JOURNEY WORK
BY DAVE DRYFOOS
Get mad, old man, but don't give up;
you're not through by a long shot. Somewhere
there's a job for you, a job that youth can't
do ... a dangerous job, but a good one
that'll bring you fame, fortune and peace....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, January 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
In a central California tomato field a dusty-faced man opened the autodriver of a nuclear-powered truck and inserted a cannery's address card so the truck would know where to deliver its load.
Six old men—the tomato pickers—waited for their pay in the truck's lengthening shadow. Most of them smoked or dozed, too tired for talk.
Ollie Hollveg, tallest and oldest of the pickers, eyed the heavy-set rancher who sat at the tally table figuring the payroll. For this day's work Ollie expected even less pay than usual; the mumbling, pencil-licking rancher—his name was Rost—seemed to be overacting the role of harried proprietor.
Soon Ollie saw his guess confirmed. A look of frustrated rage spread from face to face as each of the other pickers was in turn called to the table and paid.