"We didn't hear the schedule," said Marcus. "The rockets were too loud."
The pilot smiled apologetically. "You know how it is—last minute corrections on the charts. We had to wait until new ones were delivered, just before takeoff."
The oppression that had been hovering near lifted a little. "I understand," said Marcus. "Would you tell me if Mezzerow was one of the corrections?"
The pilot turned to the list and ran his finger down the line. He looked and looked again. "No Mezzerow here," he said.
The oppression had never been far away. It came back. "No Mezzerow?" said Marcus bleakly.
"No, but I'll check." The pilot bent over the list. "Wait. Maybe this is why I didn't see it. Take a look."
Marcus looked where the pilot was pointing. Above the fingernail, in bold black letters, was the name.
MISERY ROW (Formerly Mezzerow—changed to avoid confusion with a family name.)
"Thanks," said Marcus faintly. "That's what I wanted to know."
They went to the cabin in silence. Marcus closed his eyes but that didn't shut out the new name. Nothing could.