We use a high-speed tube carrier to get to departure gate forty-nine.
At the gate, we are among a crowd of hundreds of nervous space travellers of all ages, mostly families. In front of me is an old woman who looks close to stress-related collapse. She is dressed in many layers of clothing, overlaid by a long, shiny, thick coat, which she no doubt couldn’t fit into the limited luggage space we were allowed. She is clinging to her husband, who is pale and drawn. They don’t appear to be seasoned adventurers, more like apartment languishers, and I feel sorry for them. Like many others, they are only going because their family is going; their adult children and grandchildren, who are standing with them in a group. Given the ten-year return trip, if they remain on Earth they will miss seeing t
