"Hello, Tex. I see you've had it."
"Yeah."
"How many g's?"
"Seven."
"Same here. What do you think of it?"
"Well-" Tex seemed at a loss. "I wish my Uncle Bodie could have tried it. He wouldn't talk so much about the time he rassled the grizzly."
There were many vacant seats at lunch. Matt thought about those who had gone-did they mind being "bumped out," or were they relieved?
He was hungry but ate little, for he knew what was ahead that afternoon- rocket indoctrination. He had looked forward to this part of the schedule most eagerly. Space flight! Just a test jump, but the real thing nevertheless. He had been telling himself that, even if he failed, it would be worth it to get this first flight.
Now he was not sure; the "bumps" had changed his viewpoint. He had a new, grim respect for acceleration and he no longer thought drop-sickness funny; instead he was wondering whether or not he would ever get adjusted to free fall. Some never did, he knew.
His test group was due in Santa Barbara Field at fourteen-thirty. He had a long hour to kill with nothing to do but fret. Finally it was time to go underground, muster, and slidewalk out to the field.