rve their country for an
indeterminate period regulated rigidly by a rotation system."

"Liar!" Stephanie cried. "No one ever comes back. It's been thirty
years since the first group and not one of them...."

"Shh," Temple raised a finger to his lips.

"This is the thirteenth call since the inception of what is popularly
referred to as the Nowhere Journey," said the announcer. "Obviously,
the two hundred young men from Center City and the thousands from all
over this hemisphere do not in reality embark on a Journey to Nowhere.
That is quite meaningless."

"Hooray for him," Temple laughed.

"I wish he'd get on with it."

"No, ladies and gentlemen, we use the word Nowhere merely because we
are not aware of the ultimate destination. Security reasons make it
impossible to...."

"Yes, yes," said Stephanie impatiently. "Go on."

"... therefore, the Nowhere Journey. With a maximum security lid on
the whole project, we don't even know why our men are sent, or by what
means. We know only that they go somewhere and not nowhere, bravely
and not fearfully, for a purpose vital to the security of this nation
and not to slake the thirst of a chessman of regiments and divisions.

"If Center City's contribution helps keep our country strong, Center
City is naturally obligated...."

"No one ever said it isn't our duty," Stephanie argued, as if the
announcer could indeed hear her. "We only wish we knew something about
it--and we wish it weren't forever."

"It isn't forever," Temple reminded her. "Not officially."

"Officially, my foot. If they never return, they never return. If
there's a rotation system on paper, but it's never used, that's not a
rotation system at all. Kit, it's forever."

"... to thank the following sponsors for relinquishing their time...."

"No one would want to sponsor _that_," Temple whispered cheerfully.

"Kit," said Stephanie, "I--I suddenly have a hunch we have nothing to
worry about. They missed you all along and they'll miss you this time,
too. The last time, and then you'll be too old. That's funny, too old
at twenty-six. But we'll be free, Kit. Free."

"He's starting," Temple told her.

A large drum filled the entire telio screen. It rotated slowly, from
bottom to top. In twenty seconds, the letter A appeared, followed by
about a dozen names. Abercrombie, Harold. Abner, Eugene. Adams,
Gerald. Sorrow in the Abercrombie household. Despair for the Abners.
Black horror for Adams.

The drum