Proteus stood, hands pressed against the window; transfixed. There were layers and layers of clouds. Again he thought of sky creatures, grazing. What did they think as they watched him plunge past? Then, suddenly, they thinned out, moved away, rushed away as if frightened. Once more he cried out involuntarily as the curve of the Earth appeared, with the sun at one rim, splashing the most incredible rays of light that he’d ever seen or imagined. He’d seen microfilms of sunsets but they never even hinted at this shimmering vitality.

He eyed the dial quickly and looked out again, fascinated. 20,000 feet. The ground—the surface of Earth suddenly emerged. Giant patches of color were visible, some dark, almost blue-black—real shadows cast by the real sun!—some so brilliant that he could hardly look at them. His excitement grew as the skylevator dropped further down. The mountains were like gigantic teeth rising out of an open mouth. He was going to land in a perfectly flat area, the floor of the “mouth.” He held his breath as the skylevator fell into the shadows, below the horizon, and the ground came rushing up.

Motion stopped. The skylevator landed. The door—impossibly—opened. A light blinked on: waiting for instructions. Two dials shone, one saying, keep on hold, and the other, automatic return. Proteus bit his lips. If only he dared set the control on hold, just in case. How good to know he could get back, if he wanted to. Once the skylevator was gone, his connections with home were broken. But no, the skylevator mustn’t be missed. His hand trembled, but he pushed the return button. Then he ran out as fast as he could, afraid that the vehicle might take off while he was still inside. He rushed out onto the small ramp, down the steps, and took his first step upon the ground.

As he stood there, the skylevator shuddered and four small rockets fired, sending their hungry flames outward. The skylevator lifted, wobbled slightly, and then slowly and surely began its steady rise. He felt as if he were losing—everything. “Good-by,” he shouted. Then, resolutely, he turned away.

At first glance, the scene before him was terrifying. Instinctively Proteus looked up, but no plastic dome covered the real harsh sky. Now that it was all above him, on top of him, not around him, it made him uneasy. The late sunset blazed across the rocky plains that reached into the distance where they were finally ringed by high hills. The sun’s brilliance hurt his eyes, but more than this, he was unprepared for the spectacular reaches of open space in which he suddenly felt very small and vulnerable. He shivered. He’d never felt so unprotected in his life.