The first few weeks were mostly physical examinations and tests. Then came the endless sessions with the encephalograph and in the hypno chambers. Jon had nightmares at first, and many days had a period of half-awake, strange sensations. This was only in the beginning. The first step in the program was separating the two personalities completely. Once this happened Jon I had no knowledge of Jon II. Time went by very fast for him since he wasn't aware of most of the training.
Part of the program was orientation, teaching him how to accept and live with the hidden half of his mind. He, of course, could never meet Jon II, but he did watch another pilot's II personality. Jenkins was the one he saw, a slim boy about a year older than Jon. It was a Fine Motor Control Under Acceleration test that he watched. He found it hard to believe. The Jenkins in the test chair only faintly resembled the one he knew. Jenkins II had an expressionless face and a smoothness of motion that Jenkins I could never have. He sat in the acceleration cage that moved in sudden surges in random directions. At the same time Jenkins II had to throw small switches on a control board in response to a changing signal pattern. His fingers moved carefully, flicking the tiny switches placed only an inch apart — while the cage made sudden three-G swoops. Jenkins It's muscles were bar-hard to counteract the acceleration, but it was more than mere strength that gave the control. Heightened perception noted every thrust as it started and the opposed muscles countered with exactly the right amount of counterthrust. It was the automatic balance of an old sailor on a pitching ship, refined down to the smallest motion.
When Jon II was firmly established, Jon I had some uncomfortable experiences. Instead of coming through in the psych room one day, he found himself in the hospital. There was a tremendous gash across his palm and two fingers were broken.
"Training accident," the doctor said. "Something went wrong in the G cage and you saved yourself a good bit of injury by grabbing a bracing rod. Hurt your hand a little, that's all. Here's the rod."
The doctor smiled when he gave Jon the piece of metal — and he could see why. It was half-inch steel and the weight of his body on his fingers had bent and broken the rod. Jon I would have difficulty bending it with a hammer.
All of the training was not for Jon II's benefit. Once the second personality was strongly established, training time was split about fifty-fifty. Jon I learned everything there was to know about a spacer— outside of the control room. He took charge of the ship on the ground — checkups, repairs, even passenger goodwill. Jon I was the pilot and everyone had to have faith in him. They could never know that he blacked out whenever he entered the control room. He tried many times to see it, but never could. The control room was the deeply implanted device that triggered the personality shift. As soon as Jon I took a step through the door — or even as much as glanced inside — he was through. Jon II was in his domain and took over instantly.
Graduation day was the most important and at the same time the most frustrating day of his entire life. There was no such thing as a graduating class. As each pilot finished his training he graduated at a public ceremony. Most of the base personnel turned out, at least thirty thousand men. They paraded and Jon marched out in front of them in his pilot's black uniform. The Admiral himself took out the platinum wings — oldest symbol of mass flight — and snapped them on. It was a moment to remember.
There was just time to say goodbye to his family, when the ship was ready. That was another feature of graduation day. The new pilot made his first flight. A short hop to the moon with a shipload of supplies — but still a flight. He had climbed the ramp to the entrance, turned to wave to his family, small specks in the distance. Then he had stepped into the control room.
Then he had stepped out through the lock onto the surface of the moon.
There had been no sensation of time. One instant he had been on Earth, in the next breath he was on the moon. Only the fact that he was wearing a spacesuit and his muscles were tired and sore convinced him. It was the most anticlimactic experience of his life. .
In the garden on Earth, looking up at the newly risen moon, Jon thought about the past and tasted it dry as ashes in his mouth. Inside the house someone laughed and he heard the tinkle of bottle against glass. He pushed the thoughts away then and remembered where he was.
His family's house, the party in his honor. He had put them off time after time, then was finally forced to accept. It was just as bad as he had thought it would be. It is one thing to live a lie with yourself — something totally different to be a false hero in your own home.
Squaring his shoulders and flicking a speck of invisible dust from his jacket, he went back inside.
