"From Dayton, you'll take the eleven A.M. flight to Chicago and then the two P.M. delta to Nairobi from there. They're nine hours ahead in Nairobi, so you'll arrive there about midnight, local time. You'll be met by a CDF representative, and you'll have the option of either taking the two A.M. beanstalk to Colonial Station or getting some rest and taking the nine A.M. beanstalk. From there, you're in the CDF's hands."

I took the ticket. "What do I do if any of these flights is late or delayed?"

"None of these flights has ever experienced a single delay in the five years I've worked here," she said.

"Wow," I said. "I'll bet the CDF's trains run on time, too."

She looked at me blankly.

"You know," I said, "I've been trying to make jokes to you the entire time I've been here."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. My sense of humor was surgically removed as a child."

"Oh," I said.

"That was a joke," she said, and stood up, extending her hand.

"Oh." I stood up and took it.

"Congratulations, recruit," she said. "Good luck to you out there in the stars. I actually mean that," she added.

"Thank you," I said, "I appreciate it." She nodded, sat back down again, and flicked her eyes back to the computer. I was dismissed.

On the way out I saw an older woman walking across the parking lot toward the recruiting office. I walked over to her. "Cynthia Smith?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"

"I just wanted to say happy birthday," I said, and then pointed upward. "And that maybe I'll see you again up there."

She smiled as she figured it out. Finally, I made someone smile that day. Things were looking up.