I hadn't wanted to wear my uniform when I left the hos- pital, but I didn't have any other clothes there and I was too glad to get out to argue about it. But as soon as I got on the local plane I was taking to Los Angeles, I was sorry I had it on.
People gawked at me and began to whisper. "The stew- ardess gave me a special big smile. She must have spoken to the pilot, for he came back and shook hands, and said, "Well, I guess a trip like this is sort of a comedown for you." A little man came in, looked around for a seat, and took the one beside me. He was a fussy, spectacled guy of fifty or sixty, and he took a few minutes to get settled. Then he looked at me, and stared at my uniform and at the little brass button on it that said "TWO."
"Why," he said, "you're one of those Expedition Two men!" And then, as though he'd only just figured it out,
"Why, you've been to Mars I"
"Yeah," I said. "I was there." He beamed at me in a kind of wonder. I didn't like it, but his curiosity was so friendly that I couldn't quite resent it.
"Tell me," he said, "what's it like out there?" The plane was lifting* and I looked out at the Arizona desert sliding by close underneath.
"Different," I said. "It's different."
The answer seemed to satisfy him completely. "I'll)ust bet it is," he said. "Are you going home, Mr… "
"Haddon. Sergeant Frank Haddon."
"You going home, Sergeant?"