"What happens if I don't leave the planet within seventy-two hours?" I said as I handed the paper back to the recruiter.
"Nothing," she said, taking the form. "Except that since you're legally dead, all your belongings are split up according to your will, your health and life benefits are canceled or disbursed to your heirs and being legally dead, you have no legal right to protection under the law from everything from libel to murder."
"So someone could just come up and kill me, and there would be no legal repercussions?"
"Well, no," she said. "If someone were to murder you while you were legally dead, I believe that here in Ohio they could be tried for 'disturbing a corpse.'"
"Fascinating," I said.
"However," she continued, in her ever-more-distressing matter-of-fact tone, "it usually doesn't get that far. Anytime between now and the end of those seventy-two hours you can simply change your mind about joining. Just call me here. If I'm not here, an automated call responder will take your name. Once we've verified it's actually you requesting cancellation of enlistment, you'll be released from further obligation. Bear in mind that such cancellation permanently bars you from future enlistment. This is a onetime thing."
"Got it," I said. "Do you need to swear me in?"
"Nope," she said. "I just need to process this form and give you your ticket." She turned back to her computer, typed for a few minutes, and then pressed the ENTER key. "The computer is generating your ticket now," she said. "It'll be a minute."
"Okay," I said. "Mind if I ask you a question?"
"I'm married," she said.
"That wasn't what I was going to ask," I said. "Do people really proposition you?"
"All the time," she said. "It's really annoying."
"Sorry about that," I said. She nodded. "What I was going to ask was if you've actually ever met anyone from CDF."
"You mean apart from enlistees?" I nodded. "No. The CDF has a corporation down here that handles recruiting, but none of us are actual CDF. I don't think even the CEO is. We get all our information and materials from the Colonial Union embassy staff and not the CDF directly. I don't think they come Earthside at all."
"Does it bother you to work for an organization you never met?"
"No," she said. "The work is okay and the pay is surprisingly good, considering how little money they've put in to decorate around here. Anyway, you're going to join an organization you've never met. Doesn't that bother you?"
"No," I admitted. "I'm old, my wife is dead and there's not much reason to stay here anymore. Are you going to join when the time comes?"
She shrugged. "I don't mind getting old."
"I didn't mind getting old when I was young, either," I said. "It's the being old now that's getting to me."
Her computer printer made a quiet hum and a business card–like object came out. She took it and handed it to me. "This is your ticket," she said to me. "It identifies you as John Perry and a CDF recruit. Don't lose it. Your shuttle leaves from right in front of this office in three days to go to the Dayton Airport. It departs at 8:30 A.M; we suggest you get here early. You'll be allowed only one carry-on bag, so please choose carefully among the things you wish to take.
"From Dayton, you'll take the eleven A.M. flight to Chicago and then the two P.M. delta to Nairobi from there. They're nine hours ahead in Nairobi, so you'll arrive there about midnight, local time. You'll be met by a CDF representative, and you'll have the option of either taking the two A.M. beanstalk to Colonial Station or getting some rest and taking the nine A.M. beanstalk. From there, you're in the CDF's hands."
I took the ticket. "What do I do if any of these flights is late or delayed?"
"None of these flights has ever experienced a single delay in the five years I've worked here," she said.
"Wow," I said. "I'll bet the CDF's trains run on time, too."
She looked at me blankly.
"You know," I said, "I've been trying to make jokes to you the entire time I've been here."
"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. My sense of humor was surgically removed as a child."
"Oh," I said.
"That was a joke," she said, and stood up, extending her hand.
"Oh." I stood up and took it.
"Congratulations, recruit," she said. "Good luck to you out there in the stars. I actually mean that," she added.
"Thank you," I said, "I appreciate it." She nodded, sat back down again, and flicked her eyes back to the computer. I was dismissed.
On the way out I saw an older woman walking across the parking lot toward the recruiting office. I walked over to her. "Cynthia Smith?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"I just wanted to say happy birthday," I said, and then pointed upward. "And that maybe I'll see you again up there."
She smiled as she figured it out. Finally, I made someone smile that day. Things were looking up.
TWO