Chapters (90)
- Title Page
- Enter the SF Gateway …
- Contents
- Author Note
- PROLOGUE: TRANSCRIPT
- IDENTITIES
- YEAR 0.005
- EARTHWATCH
- A CHANCE TO DREAM
- MEETING OF MINDS
- GENESIS AND REVELATION
- GRAVE IMAGE
- THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
- MANEUVERING
- BIG SISTER
- THE POWER TO SOOTHE
- YEAR 1.00
- ABOUT TIME
- HAPPY NEW YEAR
- TORN BETWEEN TWO LOVERS
- FROM EACH ACCORDING TO HIS INCLINATIONS
- IN THE DEAD VAST AND MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
- OPTIONS
- DRIFTING
- DIVIDE AND MULTIPLY
- DIONYSUS MEETS GODZILLA
- 10
- DIDN’T SHE RAMBLE?
- YEAR 1.33
- LONG-RANGE PLANS
- NEW BEGINNINGS
- UNTIMELY PLUCKED
- BLUES
- YEAR 1.88
- LABOR-SAVING DEVICE
- FROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE TO THE CRADLE
- A MODEST PROPOSAL
- ADVICE TO THE LOVELORN
- ONE PART HARMONY
- TWO PARTS DISCORD
- YEAR 3.21
- LEAVINGS
- REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST
- TRANSLATING
- YEAR 5.71
- WATERSHED, BLOODSHED
- NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD
- A WOMAN OF DISCRIMINATION
- THAT TIME OF YEAR THOU MAYE5T IN ME BEHOLD
- CATEGORIES
- YEAR 6.26
- AULD ACQUAINTANCE
- SOWING, REAPING
- TEMPERAMENT
- BAD SEED
- YEAR 8.36
- HUSBANDRY
- POPULATION EXPLOSION
- YEAR 9.88
- HOMECOMING
- THE BURDENS OF FAITH
- YEAR 11.07
- GROWING PAINS
- LONG-DISTANCE CALL
- FOUR NOVELS
- AGE 55
- IN DREAMS AWAKE
- UP TEMPO
- JUVENILIA
- POOL PARTY
- INTERIM REPORT
- CHANCES
- BE ALL THAT YOU CAN BE
- FINAL APPROACH
- AGE 56
- DAY ZERO
- FIRST CONTACT
- LETTER ‘HOME
- HOUSEKEEPING
- AGE 57
- SETTLING, UNSETTLING
- THE HUNT
- FINAL EXAM
- AGE 100
- Website
- Also by Joe Haldeman
- Dedication
- EPILOGUE
- Author Bio
- Copyright
We felt so damned healthy after eating all those carrots and turnips that we had to get a drink. The dispensary was closed, of course, but I knew Dan had some boo. I called him up at work and told him we were going to raid his supply. It wasn’t so much to get his permission as to make sure he wouldn’t be in the room with whoever that redhead is that he’s fucking now. Rhoda, Rhonda? Wanda. They sometimes use the lunch hour.
We just had a quick toast and Charlee went back to work. I decided to leave it at the one shot and come back here to type and look up some stuff. We’ve reclaimed a few diaries of famous people; I thought I’d look up what they said on their fortieth birthdays. It was more of a milestone when you couldn’t expect to make it past seventy.
Not too much luck with women. None. Margaret Mead, Leslie Morris, Dorothy Wordsworth, and Anaïs Nin were too busy at age forty to keep diaries. What does that say about me?
Even the garrulous Mr. Boswell had only one line: “I hoped to live better from this day.” By God, Sir, so shall I. Chastity. Industry. Modesty. Though it’s hard to be modest when you know that you will go down in history as The Woman Who Had The Longest Fortieth-Birthday Diary Entry In What’s Left Of The English Language.
So we’re coming up on six years aboard this hollow rock; about fifty-eight years to go, at the current rate. I’ll be not quite old enough to be useless when we get there. Of course the people down at Propulsion keep talking about further increases in efficiency, but after the scare we had last time, I’m not sure they’ll get permission to try, even from the Engineering track.
Prime says we’re 1,850,000,000,000 kilometers from Earth, about seventy-three light-days. So if somebody wished me happy birthday, it would take seventy-three days to get from there to here, by which time, Prime says, we’d have gone almost four million kilometers. That’s another three hours, forty-one minutes. I’ll bet Zeno could prove that the message would never get here.
So it’s June on Earth, a month I never experienced. I got there in September and left in March.