sense of depth or immensity. It's as impressive as a piece of
velvet with salt sprinkled on it.

Lloyd and I made a chessboard out of a carton. Right now we're using
buttons for men. He's one of these fast players who don't stop and think
out their moves. And so far I haven't won a game.

It looks like a long trip.

* * * * *

_October 4, 1960_

I won a game. Lloyd mistook my queen-button for my bishop-button and
left his king in jeopardy, and I checkmated him next move. He said chess
was a waste of time and he had important work to do and he went away.

I went to the galley for coffee and had a talk about moss with Kroger.
He said there was a good chance of lichen on Mars, and I misunderstood
and said, "A good chance of liking _what_ on Mars?" and Kroger finished
his coffee and went up front.

When I got back to my compartment, Lloyd had taken away the chessboard
and all his buttons. He told me later he needed it to back up a star
map.

Pat slept mostly all day in his compartment, and Jones sat and watched
the screen revolve. There wasn't much to do, so I wrote a poem, sort of.

_Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With Martian rime, Venusian slime,
And a radioactive hoe._

I showed it to Kroger. He says it may prove to be environmentally
accurate, but that I should stick to prose.

* * * * *

_October 5, 1960_

Learned Jones' first name. He wrote something in the ship's log, and I
saw his signature. His name is Fleance, like in "Macbeth." He prefers to
be called Jones. Pat uses his first name as a gag. Some fun.

And only 255 days to go.

[Illustration]

* * * * *

_April 1, 1961_

I've skipped over the last 177 days or so, because there's nothing much
new. I brought some books with me on the trip, books that I'd always
meant to read and never had the time. So now I know all about _Vanity
Fair_, _Pride and Prejudice_, _War and Peace_, _Gone with the Wind_, and
_Babbitt_.

They didn't take as long as I thought they would, except for _Vanity
Fair_. It must have been a riot when it first came out. I mean, all
those sly digs at the aristocracy, with copious interpolations by Mr.
Thackeray in case you didn't get i