Enigma Read Free Page A

for flaws. There were none. All right, then! he chided himself. Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s going to change. So why aren’t you at least enjoying it while you can?
    Over the next twelve hours, Thackery entered the Panorama four times, which was as often as the radiation medtech would allow. Each time, he felt anticipation as he neared the threshold. Inside, he was caught up in the complexities of the seething technicolor clouds. The one occasion Amalthea ’s attitude allowed, he marveled at the fractured surface of Europa, the sulfur-splattered textures of Io. He reveled in the illusion that he was the center of the universe. All those discoveries denoted new additions to his sensibilities. Like a newborn butterfly which had just unfolded its crinkled wings, he felt as though his horizons had been immeasurably broadened.
    These are things / could not feel before , he thought happily.
    But no more than a hint of his earlier rapture returned, a memory only, an echo. Thackery accepted his lot with equanimity. How could I ever forget enough to be surprised that way again? How could / ever wipe that impression from my mind? And why would I want to?
    That night, the Panorama staff closed the chamber’s clamshell shield for the last time on that voyage, as Amalthea said good-bye to Jupiter and began the two-week fall inbound to the Charan Space Operations Center and Earth.
    Now things can return to normal , Thackery told himself. To speed that process, he absented himself from the grand ballroom with its continuous music, intoxicants on tap, and seductive star projection. He steered clear of the self-proclaimed beautiful people with their gemstone nosepins and patterned skin sculptures, who hugged too readily and laughed too loudly as though determined to Have Fun during every waking moment. He refused the companionship of the young naturalists, who thought themselves his peers when they were in fact his inferiors.
    Thackery stayed within himself, recapturing the discipline and determination of the student, the dignity and distance of the GS professional. By the time the Charan shuttle pierced the atmosphere of Earth, all was as it had been—except for one moment, one memory, the flame of which would not die. And because of that flame, nothing was as it had been.
    For the most part, the changes were visible only to Thackery himself. Where he had once prided himself on never pressing the deadline on assignments, now he found himself working late nights to complete work which had gone neglected. Where he had previously preferred to direct group projects he was part of, now he allowed others to take the lead and the responsibilities that went with it.
    On more than one occasion, he tapped into the GS databases with the intent of researching one assignment or another only to find his attention turning elsewhere. He read the history of space exploration with a curiosity he had not previously known. He called up hundreds of historic photographs and video clips, including some of the crude bit-mapped images of Jupiter returned by the earliest Pioneer and Voyager probes. And he studied carefully the organization and recruitment practices of the three-headed Unified Space Service.
    In all but the most demanding seminars, Thackery’s attention wandered. He found the professors pedantic and their observations obvious. In one jarring moment, he realized he had always felt that way, except that he had been too busy trying to garner approval to care. GS Georgetown had always been a greater challenge to his endurance than to his intellect, a gateway to something better.
    But in an equally disturbing revelation, Thackery realized that living in the Council’s world would mean being surrounded by more of the same boring sameness. And since all Council decisions were collective, the product of committees and studies and consensus, he could not even count on a heady sense of power to enliven his life.
    That night he had a vivid dream which