MR. LONELINESS
By HENRY SLESAR
Illustrated by ORBAN
It is lonely out there in space. Very, very lonely! A
man needs to see a human face, hear a human voice. So
visitors have to be sent out somehow—by some means.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Super-Science Fiction February 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
There were winds on the asteroid, and they blew in threads of heat and cold, chilling your feet and dampening your brow with sweat. The man shivered and cursed when the winds blew, condemning the freak currents of space, damning the Authority which had anchored him to this lonely outpost.
"If you could only feel them," he said intensely to the three men at the other side of the room.
"No, thanks," said Briggs. He laughed, and the sound was like brass.
"I feel it in my sleep sometimes," the man said moodily, staring at the floor. "It does something to your dreams. I have the strangest nightmares...."