Stilton Smyth lay nude on the table in the pristine, white travel chamber.
Its climax was a moment of blankness that he enjoyed, and it came upon him with the usual unexpected rush. It was calm and violence, expanding infinitely, contracting to singularity, pain and oblivion climaxing in blankness. All too soon, it was over.
Back to work, he thought.
He proceeded to dress himself. His clothes were fashionable for that year. He considered himself slightly ahead of his time in that department. A trendsetter, but respectable, and his haircut accentuated this look. Fashion changed so quickly, but he was pretty on top of things. The latest fashions were easy to keep up with if you knew where to go on the commons. There was no time for nostalgia in his world. The girls liked him and he knew that. When he went to the clubs with his friends, it was like browsing a bookstore;
so many intriguing titles and covers. A conversation was like reading the synopsis to see if you were still interested. Just last night he was in a club on Kepler 298. Kepler was the planet most often haunted by him and his crew. He had this group of girls believing he was a soldier battling the cretins in the Tau Ceti system. Did they really believe him? Did it matter? What was her name again?
