They had his future all planned for him, but he knew that he wasn't going to be any of the things they wanted him to be.
He said boldly, "A space explorer."
She laughed. "You youngsters are all alike inside, no matter how different you seem. My boy was the same way when he was young. But he got over it. A space explorer, no less!"
Plato didn't answer. It was only a half hour's trip, and the conductor was walking down the aisle. Plato found it difficult to take his eyes off him. He was afraid that the man would take a look at his ticket, say, "Wrong plane, son," and turn him over to the stationmaster at Space Junction, to be shipped back.
In his nervousness, Plato had difficulty getting his ticket out of his pocket. As he had expected, the conductor said, "You're on the wrong flight."
The motherly woman exclaimed, "Oh, isn't that a shame! Are they waiting for you in Venusberg?"
Plato said tearfully, "Yes, ma'am." The tearfulness wasn't hard to manage; he'd learned the trick at school.
"That's too bad. How are you going to get there?"
"I don't know. I had just enough money to pay for this ticket."