He had to find a single planet somewhere
in the vast Universe. The trouble was, if he
found it—would he remember what he must do?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
July 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He knew that there had been trouble, and he had been told what he hadto do. The trouble was he had forgotten. He didn't remember where itwas.
He had been speeding past an off-color white dwarf when it happened.If he had taken the trouble to look around, he would have seen thatthe white star was going to explode. He knew a potential nova when hetook a good look at one. But after all these centuries he had growncareless, and when the blast had come—the small star suddenly blazinginto a billion-fold brilliance—the penetrating radiation had hit himwith full intensity. There had been no ship to protect him, no clothingthat might serve as a shield. His kind had done away with such thingseons before, as they had learned to move through space by using someof the radiant energy that filled it.
He had blacked out completely.
When he came to again, he was far past the nova, in the dazzlingbrightness of a rarefied cloud of radiant hydrogen atoms. The novaitself had lost so much of its momentary brilliance that it was nowindistinguishable from the myriads of other stars. He himself wasspeeding on with feverish haste toward a nebular cluster a thousandlight years away.
He slowed down. He had the feeling that the distant cluster was not hisproper destination. But what was? What star, what planet was the spotin space he had to find? And what was he supposed to do once he gotthere?
And who had given him the instructions? Where, in the vast immensityof the universe was the place called "home", the place where he couldreturn for the information he had forgotten?
He didn't recall. He knew only, with that same distressing vagueness,that somewhere there was something he had been ordered to do. And thatonce given, the order had to be carried out.
He traveled aimlessly, by feeling alone. Time meant nothing to him asan individual, for his kind had long mastered the problems of age. Buttime meant much to those he had been sent to—to do what? Was it tohelp? They must be waiting for him now. They must be wondering why hedidn't come.
He would have to hurry. Hurry to do something he didn't yet suspect,but would sooner or later remember.
After a few centuries, he began, in his anxiety, to talk to himself,as is the way of individuals too long alone. "That star cluster therecould be it," he said to himself hopefully, and veered toward the right.
"Doesn't look familiar, though," he muttered. "Maybe if I would getcloser—"
He came close enough to see the thousands of stars as individuals, topick out the satellites circling the bright discs of light, to studythe pale planets themselves and their tiny subsatellites. As he turnedhis attention from one to another, disappointment slowly filled him.No, this was not the place. There was nothing in the configuration ofthe stars, nothing in the size or position of the planets that soundeda familiar chord in his consciousness. He would have to go further—orturn back.
He left the place behind him. The next time the same thing happened hedidn't have quite so much hope, and his disappointment was less keen.But it was disappointment none the less. Time was passing, and theymust be waiting for him impatiently.
After a while the hope and the disappointment both died away almostcompletely. The