Free Prelude to Space by Arthur C. Clarke Page A

own countries. This was the last opportunity
     of getting them all together. Pierre Leduc summed up the crew’s attitude when he said:
     “If we come back, we’ll have enough parties then to last us the rest of our lives.
     If we
don’t
, then you ought to give us a good send-off.”
    The hotel selected for the bacchanalia was one of the best in London, but not one
     so good that only a few of the executives and practically none of the scientists would
     feel at ease. Speeches, it had been solemnly promised, would be kept to a minimum
     to leave as much time as possible for the proper business. This suited Dirk, who had
     a hatred for orations but a considerable fondness for banquets and buffets.
    He arrived ten minutes before the official time, and found Matthews pacing up and
     down the foyer, flanked by a couple of muscular waiters. He indicated them without
     a smile.
    “My strong-arm men,” he said. “Look carefully, and you can see the bulges in their
     hip-pockets. We expect lots of gate-crashers, particularly from the section of Fleet
     Street we haven’t invited. I’m afraid you’ll have to look after yourself tonight,
     but the chaps with ‘Steward’ on their lapels will tell you who’s who if there’s anyone
     you want to meet.”
    “That’s all right,” said Dirk, checking his hat and coat. “I hope you get time to
     have a snack now and then while you’re holding the fort.”
    “My emergency reserves are well organized. You’ll get your drinks, by the way, from
     the chaps labeled ‘Fuel Technician.’ We’ve called all the drinks after some rocket
     fuel or other, so no one will know what they’ve got until they drink it—if then. But
     I’ll give you a tip.”
    “What’s that?”
    “
Lay off the hydrazine hydrate!
”
    “Thanks for the warning,” laughed Dirk. He was somewhat relieved to find, a few minutes
     later, that Matthews had been pulling his leg and that no such disguises had been
     employed.
    The place filled rapidly in the next half-hour. Dirk did not know more than one person
     in twenty, and felt a little out in the cold. Consequently he kept somewhat nearer
     the bar than was altogether good for him. From time to time he nodded to acquaintances,
     but most of them were too fully engaged elsewhere to join him. He was rather glad
     when another equally unattached guest settled down beside him in search of company.
    They got into conversation in a somewhat desultory manner, and after a while the talk
     came around, inevitably, to the approaching adventure.
    “By the way,” said the stranger, “I’ve not seen you around Interplanetary before.
     Have you been here long?”
    “Only three weeks or so,” said Dirk. “I’m on a special job for the University of Chicago.”
    “Indeed?”
    Dirk felt talkative, and the other seemed to show a flattering interest in his affairs.
    “I’ve got to write the official history of the first voyage and the events leading
     up to it. This trip is going to be one of the most important things that’s ever happened,
     and it’s necessary to have a complete record for the future.”
    “But surely there’ll be thousands of technical reports and newspaper accounts?”
    “Quite true: but you forget that they’ll be written for contemporaries and will assume
     a background which may only be familiar to present-day readers. I have to try and
     stand outside of Time, as it were, and produce a record which can be read with full
     understanding ten thousand years from today.”
    “Phew! Some job!”
    “Yes: it’s only become possible recently through the new developments in the study
     of language and meaning, and the perfection of symbolic vocabularies. But I’m afraid
     I’m boring you.”
    To his annoyance, the other didn’t contradict him.
    “I suppose,” said the stranger casually, “you’ve got to know the people round here
     pretty well. I mean, you’re in rather a privileged position.”
    “That’s true: they’ve