They walked the few blocks. The owner of the Hobby Center was now a long-time member of KRNH Enterprises. He had the means to expand and modernize the place beyond recognition. But clearly he had realized that some things should not change.
In the display window, however, there gleamed a brand-new Archer Nine, beautiful as a garden or a town floating, unsupported, [p. 157] under the stars—beautiful as the Future, which was born of the Past.
A Bunch of fellas—the current crop of aficionados—were inside the store, making lots of noise over the news. Was that Chip Potter, grown tall? Was that his same old dog, Blaster? Frank Nelsen could see Paul Hendricks' white-fringed bald-spot.
"Go ahead—open the door. Or are you still scared?" Nance challenged lightly.
"No—just anticipating," Nelsen gruffed. "And seeing if I can remember what's Out There ... Serene, bubb, Belt, Pallas..." He spoke the words like comic incantations, yet with a dash of reverence.
"Superbia?" Nance teased.
"That is somebody's impertinent joke!" he growled in feigned solemnity. "Anyhow, it would be too bad if something that important couldn't take a little ribbing. Shucks—we've hardly started to work, yet!"
He drew Nance back a pace, out of sight of those in the store, and kissed her long and rather savagely.
"With all its super-complications, life still seems pretty nice," he commented.
The door squeaked, just as it used to, as Nelsen pushed it open. The old overhead bell jangled.