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see the face of Xue Ao-li smiling up at me, shaking his head as he used to do at Princeton when we were young and had stumbled together upon some mathematical key that would, we felt sure, unlock further mysteries.
    “I read the passenger list, Neil”, he said. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to see you on it.”
    “Me too, Ao-li. When I spotted your name, I thought, this is great news; nine years will be sufficient to get reacquainted.”
    “I agree. However, I must quibble with you about the time frame, since you seem to posit a one-way ticket. We have, I believe, nineteen years, voyage relativity time, to catch up on our news.”
    “You’re right. But we should subtract the year spent on the mystery planet, since we will be somewhat focused on whatever we find there.”
    “True. Now, tell me why I know so little about your later life when we spent so much of our youth together.”
    “Forgive me, Ao-li, I’ve become the world’s worst correspondent. I did read your article in last month’s Ion , but never dreamed you’d be on the ship.”
    “Nor I, you. The world’s most famous recluse. Why don’t you answer your mail?”
    “I ran out of stamps.”
    “Neil, Neil, postage stamps disappeared from Western civilization more than three decades ago.”
    “I know. I was preoccupied at the time.”
    “Working on something now?”
    “Nothing very big. Just tinkering with the Bohr radius, pulling in some new research into adiabatic ionization energy, and other fun topics.”
    “That’s fairly common stuff. Taking it to the n th?”
    “Trying to see if it’s possible. Infinity is alluring, of course. But in my golden years, I’m just having a little playtime. It’s my conjecture that fairly common stuff still has some surprises for us.”
    “My sentiments exactly. Otherwise, how are you?”
    “Very well, Owly.”
    Xue laughed in his discreet manner. The nickname had materialized years ago when side by side we had hammered out the paper that won us the Nobel. His given name, Ao-li, combined with his horned rim glasses, had been too much of a temptation. In combative moments, Xue had called me Nil—for Nil Carborundum Illegitimi .
    We watched the Earth receding for a time. People around us came and went. No one was saying much.
    When the moon was no larger than a white bead, Xue asked, “What would you have done with your life, if you had had the choice? I mean other than what you actually accomplished—which, if I may say so, is not inconsiderable, since we are standing, as we speak, upon one such work.”
    I bent my knees in reply and simulated an up-and-down bounce. “This is Nihman’s doing”, I said. “My work was supplementary.”
    “Dr. Nihman has given us the ship’s gravity, Neil, but you have given us the voyage itself. And you haven’t answered my question. What, I venture to ask again, would you have done with your life?”
    “I don’t know. Haven’t given it much thought.”
    “Surely you had dreams. Everyone has them.”
    I dropped my eyes. Such questions probe too deeply, though they may appear to be no more than casual pass-by scans.
    “A man has only one life”, I said. “But I suppose, if I’d had the time, I would have done a number of things.”
    “Such as?”
    “I would have liked to play the cello.”
    “Mmmm, interesting”, said Xue, with a nod of encouragement.
    “What else?”
    “Basketball. I always loved basketball. But with my leg. . .”
    “Truly amazing. And?”
    “I would have traveled.”
    “You’re traveling now.”
    “I mean on Earth. Climb a high mountain, swim in the ocean, see exotic places.”
    “Exotic places?” He spread his arms with a smile, indicating our present surroundings.
    “When I was younger, I dreamed of living in a houseboat on Lake Dal in the valley of Kashmir, at the foot of the Himalayas.”
    “Intriguing.”
    “And you, Owly, what would you have done?”
    “I think, dear Nil , I would have transformed myself from