So Emrys Shortmire was only half human. The other half was—well, the vidicasts called it monster, and, now that he had met the young man, Peter Hubbard was inclined to agree.
II
Outside the office building, Emrys Shortmire paused and inhaled deeply. Say what you would about the atmospheres of some of the other planets' being fresher and purer, the air of Earth, being the air in which Man had evolved, was the air that felt best in his nostrils and filled his lungs to greatest satisfaction. And, after the fetid atmosphere of Morethis, this was pure heaven. Gray sky and violet dying sun against blue sky and radiant golden sun. No wonder the Morethans were what they were, and Earthmen were what they were.
Well, the golden sun of Earth would set somewhat sooner than the physicists—or the sociologists—had prognosticated. But all that would be long after he himself had died. It was no concern of his, anyway. He was Emrys Shortmire, born out of Jan Shortmire and no mortal woman; and nothing else on Earth, or in the Universe, mattered.
Disdaining the importunate heli-cabs that besieged him with plaintive mechanical offers of transportation, he walked down the street, enjoying the pull of the planet upon the youth and strength of his body, delighting in the clarity of his vision and the keenness of his nostrils. He was so absorbed in his thoughts and so unaccustomed still to Earth's traffic that he did not look where he was going. The groundcar was upon him before he knew it. Of course something like this would happen, he thought bitterly, as darkness descended upon him and he waited for the crushing impact. It was always like that in the old stories, always some drawback to spoil the magic gift.
But then it was light again. The car had passed over him and he was unharmed, to the amazement—and disappointment—of the avid crowd that had gathered.
"Pedestrians should look where they're going," the voice of the car observed petulantly. "Repairs cost money."
Being part human, Emrys was shaken by the experience. His eye caught the brilliant sign of a bar. Here, he thought, would be syrup to soothe his nerves. And he went inside, eager to try the taste of ancient vintages of Earth—unobtainable on the other planets, since fine wines and liquors could not endure the journey through space.