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SEA CHANGE by Bertram Chandler John Willis sat uneasily on the hard bench that ran along one wall of the Federal Employment Bureau. Now and again he tried to read the newspaper that he had bought (and could he afford the fifty cents? he had asked himself) on his way to the bureau from the Transients' Hostel. A colony on the Moon. . . . Men on Mars. . . . A manned laboratory in orbit about Venus—and none of it front page news. The big hemlines had been reserved for the Fourth Test Match between Australia and the U.S.A., currently being played in Melbourne. And rightly so, he thought with wry humor. Americans taking up cricket, of all games, was far more fantastic than the facts of the astronauts. Somebody was calling his name, "Captain Willis!" He got to his feet, bundling up the morning paper. He walked to the counter. He found it hard not to look at the firm, fully exposed breasts of the girl who had summoned him. "Yes?" he said. "Yes?" "Your personal data has been processed, Captain. It so happens that there is a vacancy for a master in one of the paper pulp tankers operated by the Ministry of Timber Products. You will report to their Dock Office at 1045 hours this morning." "But, Miss. . . ." He looked down at the little sign on the polished surface of the counter in front of her.
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