A Walk Alone
* * *
On a world like this, you could walk forever and always be alone.
There was, of course, life; ongoing environmental stress had given the planet a rugged, strong, healthy biosphere. But life alone does not bring company, does not bring someone to talk to, someone to listen to. To talk and to listen requires more.
And this more, this exclusive feature of intelligent, sentient life, was the one thing in all the universe she lacked.
She thought about that a lot these days.
When she was young it hadn't seemed to matter so much. She liked being alone and had never seen herself as being popular like her sister. Being alone had meant freedom, time to pursue her interests, time to read and learn. Her teachers had all said she was smart, and the psychologists had said she would be well adapted to life on another world.
The latter were wrong.
Maybe it wasn't their fault; who could have foreseen the way the mission would fail? If things hadn't failed, if Dr. Smith hadn't sabotaged the Robot, the Jupiter II would have arrived at Alpha Centauri by now and there would have been other colonists joining them.
Other people.
Penny Robinson thought back and remembered.
She had been twelve that day, twelve plus a month. There had been the ceremonies, all the excitement and meeting the President, and she remembered being swept up in it, remembered her last look at Earth out the triple windows of the upper deck before stepping into the cryogenic tube. She remembered that wistful feeling about home that she had never since admitted to.
Twelve. Still a girl.
All those years ago.
Alone.
It was simple, really, to do the math, to see how each of the others had another person. Mom and Dad. Judy and Don. Will and Dr. Smith and the Robot. Each of them had each other; to talk to, to listen to, to be with. Each pairing had happened quickly and it had not occurred to her until much later that they had, not until adolescence had come on her full force and she realized that who she had been before, that twelve year old tomboy embarking on a great adventure with her family, was no more.
Penny Robinson was a young woman now, and things were different.
#
She was walking. Not forever, but still alone. Overhead, the faint white crescents of the two moons seemed to stare down at her like two wide eyes. The moons were large here, and when they were full their size and proximity made for nights so bright you could see a clear shadow of yourself if you sat outside behind the Jupiter II. Debbie liked it out there, hopping around in the faint light and sometimes looking up at her, her eyes bright and curious.
What do you see? Penny wondered sometimes. When you look at me, what do you see?
Was Debbie a friend, or a pet?
Penny thought about this now, as she walked.
There was a high spot nearby, up on a ridge, where you could get a good view of the entire valley. The Jupiter II was just visible from there, a little silver disc surrounded by the specks of equipment that made up their camp site. As Penny ascended the ridge now, her boots crunching on the soft earth, she paused to look back, the wind on her face tugging at a few errant strands of her long, dark hair.
In time she reached the place and sat.
She wondered what it was like to have a friend.
There had been one or two back on Earth, other girls with whom she had shared childish talk and giggles and gossip. But these friendships had not been serious or deep; she and they had simply had in common a school or a neighborhood before Dad had volunteered the family for the space colonization project and they had all moved off to Houston.
Training then. Adults everywhere.
She thought back.
There had been only one friend, in all the years since. Mr. Nobody. What he was, or it was, she had never known; neither had it ever been clear what he had become. But there had been love there, the particular kind of love that exists between friends, good friends. In the short time she had known him they had shared so much.
She wondered about him, even after all this time.
Penny shifted a bit to get more comfortable. This place had become familiar, but like all familiar things, it would be gone soon. Dad and Don were away with the chariot and their last radio communication had said that they had come upon a rich vein of deutronium, and that meant that once they returned the Jupiter II would be refueled and they would all be on their way.
To where?
Dad still talked about Alpha Centauri. Dr. Smith still insisted on Earth. It was an old argument and Penny wondered how much of it was now just posturing. It didn't matter anymore where they returned so long as there were human beings there. Surely the Jupiter III would have arrived at Alpha Centauri by now; the Allen family had received the same training as her own and by now the colony was probably thriving. If the Jupiter II reached Alpha Centauri after all these years there would be no talk of the Robinsons having completed their mission despite the odds; didn't Dad see this? Didn't he see that just to return alive would be a success that would make the history books?
Penny sighed and looked out across the barren valley.
Alone.
I want a friend.
I want someone, anyone, that I can talk to who isn't family.
I want a man.
She thought of Judy. It had been worse since the wedding, since that day she had stood as bridesmaid for her sister and had watched Don hold Judy in his arms and kiss her. She didn't want to envy Judy, but the emotion was there and Penny couldn't deny it. She wanted Don West to take her in his arms and hold her that way, wanted to feel his kiss on her lips, his touch on her body. It had been easy enough to deny these feelings when she was younger, but no longer, no more. Don loved Judy with the utter loyalty that Penny wanted for herself.
I want to be loved, like that. I want it and I need it.
Quietly, sitting alone, Penny Robinson lowered her face into her hands and began to weep.
#
They came quietly. She did not note their approach until it was too late, and then they had her. Her scream for help was cut off even before it even reached her lips.
* * *
On a world like this, you could walk forever and always be alone.
There was, of course, life; ongoing environmental stress had given the planet a rugged, strong, healthy biosphere. But life alone does not bring company, does not bring someone to talk to, someone to listen to. To talk and to listen requires more.
And this more, this exclusive feature of intelligent, sentient life, was the one thing in all the universe she lacked.
She thought about that a lot these days.
When she was young it hadn't seemed to matter so much. She liked being alone and had never seen herself as being popular like her sister. Being alone had meant freedom, time to pursue her interests, time to read and learn. Her teachers had all said she was smart, and the psychologists had said she would be well adapted to life on another world.
The latter were wrong.
Maybe it wasn't their fault; who could have foreseen the way the mission would fail? If things hadn't failed, if Dr. Smith hadn't sabotaged the Robot, the Jupiter II would have arrived at Alpha Centauri by now and there would have been other colonists joining them.
Other people.
Penny Robinson thought back and remembered.
She had been twelve that day, twelve plus a month. There had been the ceremonies, all the excitement and meeting the President, and she remembered being swept up in it, remembered her last look at Earth out the triple windows of the upper deck before stepping into the cryogenic tube. She remembered that wistful feeling about home that she had never since admitted to.
Twelve. Still a girl.
All those years ago.
Alone.
It was simple, really, to do the math, to see how each of the others had another person. Mom and Dad. Judy and Don. Will and Dr. Smith and the Robot. Each of them had each other; to talk to, to listen to, to be with. Each pairing had happened quickly and it had not occurred to her until much later that they had, not until adolescence had come on her full force and she realized that who she had been before, that twelve year old tomboy embarking on a great adventure with her family, was no more.
Penny Robinson was a young woman now, and things were different.
#
She was walking. Not forever, but still alone. Overhead, the faint white crescents of the two moons seemed to stare down at her like two wide eyes. The moons were large here, and when they were full their size and proximity made for nights so bright you could see a clear shadow of yourself if you sat outside behind the Jupiter II. Debbie liked it out there, hopping around in the faint light and sometimes looking up at her, her eyes bright and curious.
What do you see? Penny wondered sometimes. When you look at me, what do you see?
Was Debbie a friend, or a pet?
Penny thought about this now, as she walked.
There was a high spot nearby, up on a ridge, where you could get a good view of the entire valley. The Jupiter II was just visible from there, a little silver disc surrounded by the specks of equipment that made up their camp site. As Penny ascended the ridge now, her boots crunching on the soft earth, she paused to look back, the wind on her face tugging at a few errant strands of her long, dark hair.
In time she reached the place and sat.
She wondered what it was like to have a friend.
There had been one or two back on Earth, other girls with whom she had shared childish talk and giggles and gossip. But these friendships had not been serious or deep; she and they had simply had in common a school or a neighborhood before Dad had volunteered the family for the space colonization project and they had all moved off to Houston.
Training then. Adults everywhere.
She thought back.
There had been only one friend, in all the years since. Mr. Nobody. What he was, or it was, she had never known; neither had it ever been clear what he had become. But there had been love there, the particular kind of love that exists between friends, good friends. In the short time she had known him they had shared so much.
She wondered about him, even after all this time.
Penny shifted a bit to get more comfortable. This place had become familiar, but like all familiar things, it would be gone soon. Dad and Don were away with the chariot and their last radio communication had said that they had come upon a rich vein of deutronium, and that meant that once they returned the Jupiter II would be refueled and they would all be on their way.
To where?
Dad still talked about Alpha Centauri. Dr. Smith still insisted on Earth. It was an old argument and Penny wondered how much of it was now just posturing. It didn't matter anymore where they returned so long as there were human beings there. Surely the Jupiter III would have arrived at Alpha Centauri by now; the Allen family had received the same training as her own and by now the colony was probably thriving. If the Jupiter II reached Alpha Centauri after all these years there would be no talk of the Robinsons having completed their mission despite the odds; didn't Dad see this? Didn't he see that just to return alive would be a success that would make the history books?
Penny sighed and looked out across the barren valley.
Alone.
I want a friend.
I want someone, anyone, that I can talk to who isn't family.
I want a man.
She thought of Judy. It had been worse since the wedding, since that day she had stood as bridesmaid for her sister and had watched Don hold Judy in his arms and kiss her. She didn't want to envy Judy, but the emotion was there and Penny couldn't deny it. She wanted Don West to take her in his arms and hold her that way, wanted to feel his kiss on her lips, his touch on her body. It had been easy enough to deny these feelings when she was younger, but no longer, no more. Don loved Judy with the utter loyalty that Penny wanted for herself.
I want to be loved, like that. I want it and I need it.
Quietly, sitting alone, Penny Robinson lowered her face into her hands and began to weep.
#
They came quietly. She did not note their approach until it was too late, and then they had her. Her scream for help was cut off even before it even reached her lips.