He sat on an air pillow, eating his late meal, all he allotted himself, a minimum diet of supper pills washed down by water. He’d been under the impression that on the real Earth it rained often and abundantly, providing natural water that didn’t even need to be recycled. He knew it didn’t rain-on-time as it did at home, but he’d been sure it rained every day or so. For that reason he hadn’t carried much water with him, and now he thought of his plastoid sack, hanging open outside, from his nodule. If it rained, he’d hear it filling, and try to make sure that it didn’t spill.

Sitting alone with all that dark space around made him uneasy, not afraid, he told himself—there was a difference. Actually, he missed the gentle dim illumination that passed for night in the floating city, even though his camping nodule lighted itself up automatically when the sun went down. Besides this, he was becoming worried about the nodule itself. It was drifting some, and he tried not to think what might happen if a really strong Earth wind began to blow. Could it rip the nodule to bits? It wasn’t made to stand free air currents.

But what if it drifted? Unless he got tangled up in trees, what could happen? Still, it might be wise to take another look around, he thought—unhappily. The skylevator ride hadn’t frightened him in the same way that going outside did now. For one thing, he trusted the skylevator, but the nodule floor wobbled when he stood up, opened the door, and went out to the tiny platform. The steps were flying out horizontally in the air, and the breeze seemed determined to pull his hair out by the roots; he still found unsteady air scary, and his eyes stung. You could fall and break a leg, he thought, holding on.

With his motion, the nodule flipped. Proteus fell off, sprawling on the ground. Desperately he sprang to his feet, trying to catch the waving steps. They eluded him, as if on purpose, he thought, until finally he jumped higher than he ever had in his life, grabbed the lowest step, and just hung on. His weight pulled the nodule down low enough so that he could climb aboard. Half-crying, out of breath, sick with relief, he went inside and drew the steps in after him, where they disappeared beneath the couch in storage position.

The wind, which actually had been a slight breeze, grew stronger. Bumpily the illuminated nodule drifted through the air, with Proteus inside, looking out, afraid that he’d run into an area of trees or shrubs that could damage the nodule beyond repair.