Free Earth vs. Everybody by John Swartzwelder Page A

that prohibited that, for one thing. So I would have to try to
make a new life for myself somewhere else.
    I looked up at the
board where all the day’s flights were listed. I wished I’d studied astronomy
when I was in school. And then remembered it until now. But I hadn’t. I didn’t
recognize the names of any of these planets. “Nice 3” sounded pretty nice. I
asked what the fare was. The ticket people didn’t understand me at first, and I
couldn’t understand what they were saying either. Just sounded like a lot of
gibberish to me. Finally I said: “Speak English, for Christ’s sake!” Then we
could understand each other. They said it was a thousand of some currency I had
never heard of to get to that particular prison planet. I checked my pockets,
while they looked on hopefully, but I didn’t seem to have any money of any kind
on me. Their attitude towards me got a little frosty after that. They said I
should quit reading the destination board if I wasn’t going to buy a ticket.
This wasn’t a library.
    I tried to get
money for airfare by begging, but nobody at the spaceport seemed to understand
what I was doing—what my business was. I explained that I had no money so I
wanted theirs, but they didn’t get it. They kept looking to see what I was
going to be giving them in exchange. Maybe I had it behind my back. Let’s all
look there. I tried to explain the concept again. I wanted their money, and in
exchange for it they would get absolutely nothing. Not even a “thank you”, or a
smile, or the back of my hand. Nothing. They still didn’t get it. Finally I
stopped begging. It wasn’t going to work here. These people were too stupid.
    Since I couldn’t
buy a ticket on a commercial flight, I decided to try hitchhiking. I borrowed a
space suit from a guy—I told him I would bring it right back, just wait right
here—then went outside and stuck out my thumb.
    Hundreds of ships
came and went over the next few hours, but nobody picked me up. I wasn’t sure
whether they didn’t understand the Earth concept of hitchhiking (for giving me
a ride you get nothing) or they just couldn’t see my tiny thumb in the vastness
of space. So I finally cut off the very end of my space suit so that my thumb
was sticking out. Due to the vacuum of space, it expanded to a thousand times
its normal size, with the rest of me getting correspondingly smaller. Now they
could see my thumb better than they could see the spaceport. I got a ride right
away. So there’s a tip for you kids traveling in space. Make your thumbs big.
    The guy who
picked me up asked me where I was headed. I said I didn’t know. He asked where
he should let me off. I said I didn’t know that either. Just drive.
    After a couple of
days, he asked if we were anywhere near where I was going yet, because I’d
already eaten most of his provisions. I said I’d tell him when we got there.
Just keep driving, and can the chatter. Later that day he set me down on a
small moon and flew off. I couldn’t figure out why he did that. We weren’t
there yet.
    I spent a week
sitting on that moon holding my breath and watching my eyes getting bigger,
until I figured out I could get enough air to stay alive by sucking it out of
the family next to me. When another ship finally came along and picked me up, I
tried to be a little more helpful to the driver. I said I wanted to go to the
nearest inhabitable planet—one that had air on it. He said okay, then asked
what I was eating back there. It wasn’t his provisions, was it? Just drive, I
said.
    When we arrived
at a planet that had a breathable atmosphere, he let me off. I didn’t want to
get off yet—there was still some food left on the ship—but he insisted. I
reluctantly disembarked and started taking a look around my new home. The air
was all right, no problem there, but all the people were fifty feet tall. And
I’m just talking about the normal people here. The basketball players were
eighty feet tall. The