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220 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1964

More time passed. The ship traversed new regions, and regions after regions where no man had passed but one: Lugo Teehalt. To all sides hung stars by the thousand and the million: streaming, swarming, flowing, glaring, glittering; shifting silently one across the other, and the other across another still—worlds of infinite variety, populated by who knows whom; each drawing the eye, fixing the imagination, evoking wonder; each world an urge, a temptation, a mystery; each a promise of unseen sights, unknown knowledge, unsensed beauty.
“What a paradox, what a fearful reproach, when the distinction of a few hundred miles—nay, as many feet or even inches!—can transform heinous crime to simple unqualified circumstance!”
Teehalt smiled, nodded slowly. “But still—there's always excitement The star gleams, you notice a circlet of planets, you ask yourself, will it be now? And time after time: the smoke and ammonia, the weird crystals, the winds of monoxide, the rains of acid. But you go on and on and on. Perhaps in the region ahead the elements coalesce into nobler forms. Of course it's the same slime and black trap and methane snow. And then suddenly: there it is. Utter beauty...”
Deeming the unsubstantiated dogma of a localized religious cult to be an undignified and unsuitable base on which to erect the chronology of galactic man, the members of this convention hereby declare that time shall now be reckoned from year 2000 A.D. (Old System), which becomes the year 0. The revolution of Earth about Sol remains the standard annual unit.
Kagge Kelle was a small compact man with a large solid well-arranged head. His skin was only faintly dyed, to a waxy bisque pallor; he wore a severe costume of dark brown and purple. His eyes were clear and remote, his nose short and blunt, his mouth prim, held firmly as if in compensation for its over-fullness.