World's End

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object. But then, he couldn't imagine that Ossidge would ever even dream of making that trip; making the

Big Mistake. . . .

He dropped into the seductive softness of his desk chair, letting it re-form around him. Just for a moment.

. . . Just for a moment adrenaline stopped spilling into his bloodstream, and he was vulnerable. If he could only close his eyes, empty his mind and meditate, have one uninterrupted moment of peace, before . . . He pushed himself up out of his seat angrily, wincing as the abrupt motion hurt the half-healed wound on his side. He

WORLD S END

forced the pain out of his mind, as he had done over and over again for the past month.

He needed this time, this final stolen hour, for something more important than rest. So much had changed, and was about to change, in his life. He needed time to remember who he was.

He touched his belt buckle, pressing the hidden

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speaker button on its built-in recorder. The recorder had a direct memory feed, which he had used when he had kept the journal--to keep it private, pointless mental digressions and all. But now he left it on voice, hearing it mimic his own speech, the sounds familiar yet sufficiently distorted to seem almost impersonal.

The voice said, "Today I arrived at World's End...."

He turned back to the window, frowning at the rain tracks on the pane. Rain again. Doesn 't it ever stop? But he knew the answer. No more than time does. He sat down on the deep sill, resting his forehead against the glass, letting the utter exhaustion of his body and mind hold him there. He watched as his breath condensed into fog, obliterating the present, and felt the empty room behind him fill up with ghosts.

day i.

Today I arrived at World's End. It's still difficult for me even to believe I'm thinking those words.

But I've decided to record everything I experience here, as completely as possible. The notes of a reasonably objective observer can only be an improvement

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over the mass of lurid misinformation about this place.

And if anything should happen--never mind. . . .

The shuttle trip from Foursgate was uneventful to the point of tedium. I could almost have Page 5

believed that I was simply another tourist sightseeing on a strange world

. . . except that there were only two other people on the flight, and neither one of them looked pleased about their destination. I didn't speak to them, and they returned the favor. The sky was overcast for almost the entire trip; I saw nothing of the world so far below. For all I knew we could have been circling Foursgate for two hours instead of covering half a planet.

When we landed the terminal was exactly like half a dozen others I've seen here on Number Four--a masterpiece of the banality that passes for modern on this world. The planetwide Port Authority runs its franchises with the same mindless efficiency wherever they are-- even at the end of the world.

As I crossed the invisible climate-control barrier that separated the terminal from the real world outside, I

finally began to realize that I had come to World's End

... I had really made the Big Mistake.

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world's end

The heat was suffocating. The air was so thick with moisture and strange odors that breathing itself was difficult. I dropped the bags that held the few belongings I'd brought with me, and looked for some sort of transportation.

If there was anything, even a ground vehicle, it wasn't running. The two locals who had been on my flight passed me worldlessly and began walking away down a cinder track. I thought I could see some sort of buildings in the distance, which I assumed were the town. A jungle of unwholesome-looking plant life pressed in on the road and the terminal. There were black scorch marks where the flora had been burned back recently along the roadsides. I took off my heavy jacket, picked up my belongings, and began to walk.

I stopped again as I reached a gateway at the edge of town.

WELCOME TO WORLD'S END

someone had scrawled on the blistered wall, complete

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with the official seals.

THE ASSHOLE OF THE HEGEMONY.

It struck me like a slap in the face, a grotesque insult. I stared at it until the tension of my clenched jaw made my face hurt--made me remember who I'm not, here. I