“Nevertheless, you have been granted an exemption. Because it has become known that you wanted one.” Again, the warm, avuncular smile. “It is felt that your exemption is a mitzvah.” When Dev still looked blank, Cephas explained further. “Today it would be considered a good deed, but it is really a commandment of sorts. Either way, you have it.”

Dev felt he understood now, but hardly dared to do so. “You mean—I can go? With the others?”

Cephas nodded. “A mitzvah.” For a moment he seemed uncertain. “You want to go, don’t you? That is the overriding desire you have expressed, on multiple occasions, to multiple sources?”

A great rush of appreciation flowed through Dev. His parents would be saddened, his friends would express regrets at his departure, but … “That has been my desire my entire life. Since before it was known that travel between other worlds was possible. Since before it was learned that humans are not the only sentient species in the galaxy. It was a desire I could indulge in only in the writings of others and in my own imagination. That I can—go.”

“As soon as you are ready,” Cephas assured him. “The communication you hold will allow you to board any emigration shuttle at any transport point. You may bring with you the usual personal effects as they have been described to all émigrés. As has been the case with everyone else, all other necessities will be provided for you when you arrive at Reuben IV or Megiddo. Upon your arrival, a suitable occupation will be found for you based on your Earthly profession or you can choose from among those intrinsic to your new home.” He turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Cephas halted, turned back. “You have another question? If so, the device I just gave you will allow you to …”

“No, no, not that kind of question.” Dev had to pause for breath. “I am ready. Can I go with you now?”

The Gadeu looked bemused. “Now?” He gestured, taking in their surroundings, the well-furnished condo, the artwork on the walls, the books on the shelves. “Don’t you wish to take anything with you? Anything of your past life, of this world?”

Dev smiled. “I have everything I need. I have my dreams.”

They left the building together. Devali did not look back.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alan Dean Foster is the author of 140 books, hundreds of pieces of short fiction, essays, columns, reviews, the occasional op-ed for the New York Times, and the story for the first Star Trek movie. Having visited more than one hundred countries, he is still bemused by the human condition. He lives with his wife JoAnn and numerous dogs, cats, coyotes, hawks, and a resident family of bobcats in Prescott, Arizona.

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