Childhood's End - Arthur C. Clarke [38]
Their summits were streaked with snow, and the clouds above them were turning to fire as the sun descended on the last few minutes of its daily journey. As he looked at those remote ramparts, George felt awed into a sudden sobriety.
The stars that sprang out in such indecent haste the moment the sun had set were completely strange to him. He looked for the Southern Cross, but without success. Though he knew very little of astronomy, and could recognize only a few constellations, the absence of familiar friends was disturbing. So were the noises drifting in from the jungle, uncomfortably close at band. Enough of this fresh air, thought George. I'll go back to the party before a vampire bat, or something equally pleasant, comes flying up to investigate.
He was just starting to walk back when another guest emerged from the hatchway. It was now so dark that George could not see who it was, so he called out; "Hello, there. Have you had enough of it too?" His invisible companion laughed.
"Rupert's starting to show some of his movies. I've seen them all before."
"Have a cigarette," said George.
"Thanks."
By the flame of the lighter-George was fond of such antiques-he could now recognize his fellow-guest, a strikingly handsome young negro whose name George had been told but had immediately forgotten, like those of the twenty other complete strangers at the party. However, there seemed something familiar about him, and suddenly George guessed the truth.
"I don't think we've really met," he said, "but aren't you Rupert's new brother-in-law?"
"That's right. I'm Jan Rodricks. Everyone says that Maia and I look rather alike."
George wondered whether to commiserate with Jan for his newly acquired relative. He decided to let the poor fellow find out for himself; after all, it was just possible that Rupert would settle down this time.
"I'm George Greggson. This is the first time you've been to one of Rupert's famous parties?"
"Yes. You certainly meet a lot of new people this way."
"And not only humans," added George. "This is the first chance I've had of meeting an Overlord socially."
The other hesitated for a moment before replying, and George wondered what sensitive spot he had struck. But the answer revealed nothing.
"I've never seen one before, either-except of course on TV."
There the conversation languished, and after a moment George realized that Jan wanted to be alone. It was getting cold, anyway, so he took his leave and rejoined the party.
The jungle was quiet now; as Jan leaned against the curving wall of the air intake, the only sound he could hear was the faint murmur of the house as it breathed through its mechanical lungs. He felt very much alone, which was the way he wanted to be. He also felt highly frustrated-and that was something he had no desire to be at all.
Chapter 8
No Utopia can ever give satisfaction to everyone, all the time.
As their material conditions improve, men raise their sights and become discontented with powers and possessions that once would have seemed beyond their wildest dreams. And even when the external world has granted all it can, there still remain the searchings of the mind and the longings of the heart.
Jan Rodricks, though he seldom appreciated his luck, would have been even more discontented in an earlier age. A century before, his colour would have been a tremendous, perhaps an overwhelming, handicap. Today, it meant nothing. The inevitable reaction that had given early twenty-first-century negroes a slight sense of superiority had already passed away. The convenient word "nigger" was no longer tabu in polite society, but was used without embarrassment by everyone. It had no