Music of the Spheres Read Online Free Page B

public.
    For the most part, she wore it when she was working. In her
newest vocation as a liner hostess, being able to identify passengers by sight
was a valuable ability—especially since the majority of those passengers were country-corporate
decision makers, department heads for various science and tech companies, and influential
members of the media.
    Folding the harness carefully, she packed it in one of her
travel bags and headed out to catch her taxi to the spaceport.
    ∞
    Houston Spaceport was bustling with activity. As the taxi
pulled up the long stretch of road to the main entry gates, Justine could sense
many human forms gathered on the grassy hills in front of the twenty-foot-high
fence. While her optilink sensor picked up that the protestors held signs, she
could not read any of the slogans written on them; she could, however, hear
their angry shouts when she opened the window a crack.
    “Feed the people—not your greed!”
    “Space is a waste!”
    “We need jobs on Earth, too!”
    “God gave us Eden; only those who are unworthy seek to leave
the garden!”
    It was nearly impossible to explain to such protestors that
space exploration had opened avenues to new technologies and conveniences which
they themselves used on a daily basis. Mining the asteroid belts did provide
jobs as the raw materials were shipped back to Earth for processing; it also
saved the Earth’s natural resources.
    There were protestors at nearly every facility in the
country that promoted science and technology. If someone suffered a job loss
for whatever reason, they often didn’t care to look closely at the actual
cause; it was easier to point the finger at the nearest target. In the past few
years, it was the space industry. Nearly gutting the NASA program was not enough;
they wanted to ground all space exploration.
    There were also outcries from many of the world’s religions,
which had started from the day Justine and her crew had discovered the Dis
Pater on Pluto. Many thought it blasphemous to consider that humans weren’t
a unique and divine species. To entertain the notion that there were thousands
of alien races among the stars was sacrilege.
    Some pundits theorized the only reason there hadn’t been a full-out
religious revolution was because of the failure of Alex’s mission. He had come
back without any evidence of alien contact; that, to the religious extremists,
was proof that the entire affair had been a hoax, and humankind’s status as the
sole intelligence in the universe was secure.
    Over the past year, the crowds of protesters had gradually
dwindled, and their rants had not held the vehemence they once carried.
    Security, however, remained tight. Once the taxi arrived at
the main entrance, it was scanned before any of its occupants were allowed to
exit the vehicle. The taxi was quickly cleared of any harmful substances, such
as explosives, weapons, or contraband. Justine got out, gathered her bags, and headed
for the main building.
    The automatic doors parted for her as she entered the
spaceport, but when she stepped in, her way was blocked by a tall, thin figure
whose back was to her.
    Many first time visitors to the port were intimidated by the
size and scope of the main terminal, which also doubled as a kind of museum of
space flight. Large reproductions—most life-sized—of NASA’s various rockets,
shuttles and other craft from its long history were displayed throughout the
interior of the large building. Crowds of tourists came just to look at the scale
models, even if they didn’t have tickets for an outbound flight.
    Justine assumed the man in her way was simply taken aback by
the scope of the space terminal.
    “Excuse me,” she said politely.
    The visitor turned, and though Justine could not make out
his features, what struck her as odd was that he wore glasses. With current
technological levels, they could correct nearly everything short of blindness.
It was rare to see someone still wearing