World's End

Page 12

JOAN D. VINGE

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a dismissing hand, as if she were involved in something important. She was not doing anything at all that I could see.

Another obvious outsider came into the office and stood at the wall beside me, holding up a credit disc. He shouted something that sounded like "Moron!" One of the clerks, an old man with a face like a slice of dried fruit, crossed the room to us at last. He struck something against the wall and I heard a single note chime; abruptly there was a window open in front of the other man. A

breath of cool, dry air touched my face.

"Excuse me," I said, "but I was here first."

"Wait your turn," the clerk snapped at me. The other man grinned, holding his spot, as the clerk took his credit.

I waited, trying to control my anger at being treated like the lowest Unclassified back on Kharemough. The other man finished his business at last, and I leaped to take his place before the clerk could close the window again.

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"I need ... I need some information," I blurted. "I'm looking for my brothers--"

The clerk cocked his head insolently. "They're not in here, sonny. Go back where you come from, you'll find all the brothers you want." He wheezed with silent laughter.

I took a deep breath, and said, as evenly as I could, "My brothers . . . were here about a year ago.

I believe they went into World's End. They didn't come back. I'm here to search for them. I understand that I need some kind of permits to do that. I'd like to apply for them."

He turned away from the window without a word; but it stayed open and so I waited. He came back with a fistful of printout sheets. "Fill out these." He shoved them through at me and closed the window.

"You mean write on this? By hand1?" I said. But I was 14

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WORLD S END