"No, not your fault." His eyes had begun to dull again. "Just a matter of enough melanin in the skin. That's all...." Then he straightened up and slammed his fist on the table. "Damn you, did you know I was a jet pilot a long time ago? Did you know I was going to be one of the space pioneers? Open up brave new worlds for Man...."
He sat there staring at me for a minute or so and the last thing he said was, "Don't you come here again—nigger."
I got up and left the table and walked out of the bar. I wasn't provoked. As I said before, we were well trained.
The first time I realized where I was was when I bumped into the fence around the spacefield. I must have walked all the way over there from the bar. I had a memory of crumbling buildings and littered streets. Things had changed while I had been out there. They were letting the city run down.
As I started to walk along the fence to the gate, I saw the ship towering against the stars. The stars and the ship. And tomorrow there would be colonists getting aboard.
I stopped and looked till I knew where home was and who the real exiles were.
I stopped feeling sorry for myself. And started feeling sorry for them.