Evolution

Public opinion on Earth was divided. Among certain segments of the population, there was a great deal of lingering resentment over the amount of money that had been spent to start the Lunar colonies. Many felt that there was an implied debt. They blamed the Depression directly on the Lunarians, feeling that the money could have been better used on Earth. Others were vaguely jealous, unable to face the fact that Luna had chosen a different path from Earth, and was leaving them behind in many respects. Some were grateful for the assistance Crisium had rendered during the war. For a growing number of people, there was a realization that, even if it had cost a fortune to start those cities, there was no way to get the money back.

Deeper forces were stirring. People were profoundly tired of rapid change. They wanted tranquility instead of the increasingly frenetic pace they had been forced to live for the past few generations. Stability looked more and more attractive. The prevailing attitude was that what was needed now was not more, bigger, better, shinier, but a settling in with what they had. A time for reflection and quiet contemplation. Back to basics.

Citing spiritual values and the rebirth of the nuclear family as benchmarks, some declared the beginning of a new golden age. A few observers cynically noted that there was little, if any, difference between the stability of a golden age and the stagnation leading to decline.

Trevor York strode into the New York terminus of the Holmes Door as though he owned it. Self-confident to the point of arrogance, he paused, eyeing the bare rock of the Crisium terminus, visible through the Door itself.

He turned to his cameraman. “Get some shots from here. I doubt we’ll use more than a few seconds, but you never know—we might need some fill.”

The cameraman slowly panned the room, pausing on the Door, the freight desk, and the ticket counter. He then nodded to York. “Got it.”

Three other people had come in behind them, fanning out to either side. One man and two attractive women, one blonde, one brunette. York checked to make sure that his entourage was intact before proceeding across the tiled floor towards the Door.

So far, the Door personnel had ignored them. After all, the Crisium to New York Door had only reopened six weeks ago and there were still occasional news crews reporting on it.

It was only when the man with the carefully coiffed hair angled across the floor as though to cross over into Crisium that they began to pay attention to him. One of the freight handlers was the first to reach him.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t go to Crisium without paying.” He pointed towards the ticket counter. “You can buy tickets over there.”

York glanced at his cameraman. “Bob,” was all he said.

The cameraman was already recording. “Ready.”

York drew himself up to his full height. “I’m Trevor York. I’m here to do a special about the Holmes Door.” The handler’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the man carefully. “You look a little like him… but I thought York was taller.”

Lips thinning, York stared at the young man. “Are you saying I can’t go to Crisium?”

“Not without paying.”

“But I’m Trevor York.”

The handler grinned insolently. “Yeah… well, the way I see it, there are two possibilities. One is that you’re not Trevor York, in which case you’re a mortal human being, and you and your friends can damn well buy tickets like everyone else. The other possibility, of course, is that you are Trevor York—”

“Oh, I’m Trevor York, all right—”