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    Originally appeared in Astounding Science Fiction, Aug. He was not alone. There was nothing to indicate the fact but the white hand of the tiny gauge on the board before him. The control room was empty but for himself; there was no sound other than the murmur of the drives—but the white hand had moved. It had been on zero when the little ship was launched from the Stardust; now, an hour later, it had crept up. There was something in the supply closet across the room, it was saying, some kind of a body that radiated heat.

    She obeyed, his silence making the smile fade into the meek and guilty expression of a pup that has been caught in mischief and knows it must be punished. Do I pay a fine, or what? I have a position waiting for me there. My brother has been sending money home all the time to us—my father and mother and me—and he paid for a special course in linguistics I was taking.

    I graduated sooner than expected and I was offered this job in Mimir. There was plenty of room for me and I was willing to pay the fine. In a way, she could not be blamed for her ignorance of the law; she was of Earth and had not realized that the laws of the space frontier must, of necessity, be as hard and relentless as the environment that gave them birth.

    I already knew Mimir was where he would be stationed in a little over a year. Do you know him? I slipped into the closet there after the ship was ready to go just before you came in. I can cook and I can patch clothes for everyone and I know how to do all kinds of useful things, even a little bit about nursing. Equipment they needed in their work, I supposed. A fugitive from justice hoping to lose himself on a raw new world; an opportunist seeking transportation to the new colonies where he might find golden fleece for the taking; a crackpot with a mission.

    Perhaps once in his lifetime an EDS pilot would find such a stowaway on his ship—warped men, mean and selfish men, brutal and dangerous men—but never before a smiling, blue-eyed girl who was willing to pay her fine and work for her keep that she might see her brother.

    The call would be futile, but he could not, until he had exhausted that one vain hope, seize her and thrust her into the air lock as he would an animal—or a man. The delay, in the meantime, would not be dangerous with the EDS decelerating at fractional gravity. A voice spoke from the communicator. Identify yourself and proceed. Give me Commander Delhart. The girl was watching him, no longer smiling.

    This cruiser must maintain its schedule; the life of not one person but the lives of many depend on it. She was leaning forward on the bench, almost rigid, her eyes fixed wide and frightened.

    To jettison me … to go through with it—what did he mean? What did he mean—what did he really mean? You heard what the commander said. It has to be like that.

    It has to be that way and no human in the universe can change it. She released the edge of the seat and fumbled at the chain that suspended the plastic disk from her neck with fingers that were trembling and awkward. He reached down and unfastened the clasp for her, then returned with the disk to his chair.

    Are you capable of understanding that? Go ahead. Name, Marilyn Lee Cross. Sex, female. Born July 7, Weight, a hundred and ten. Eyes, blue. Complexion, light. Blood type O. She was huddled back against the wall, watching him with a look of numb and wondering fascination. Why is it? Their own supply was destroyed by a tornado. The fever is invariably fatal unless the serum can be had in time, and the six men in Group One will die unless this ship reaches them on schedule.

    These little ships are always given barely enough fuel to reach their destination, and if you stay aboard, your added weight will cause it to use up all its fuel before it reaches the ground. It will crash then, and you and I will die and so will the six men waiting for the fever serum. There are no other cruisers within forty light-years; there is nothing and no one to change things. It was better so; with the going of all hope would go the fear; with the going of all hope would come resignation.

    She needed time and she could have so little of it. How much? The EDSs were not equipped with hull-cooling units; their speed had to be reduced to a moderate level before they entered the atmosphere. They were decelerating at.

    There would be a critical point, soon to be reached, when he would have to resume deceleration. When he did so, the girls weight would be multiplied by the gravities of deceleration, would become, suddenly, a factor of paramount importance, the factor the computers had been ignorant of when they determined the amount of fuel the EDS should have. She would have to go when deceleration began; it could be no other way.

    When would that be—how long could he let her stay? How long?

    Each EDS was given a meager surplus of fuel to compensate for unfavorable conditions within the atmosphere, and relatively little fuel was being consumed for the time being. The memory banks of the computers would still contain all data pertaining to the course set for the EDS; such data would not be erased until the EDS reached its destination.

    Did you reduce the deceleration? I would like to stay at point ten as long as the computers say I can. Will you give them the question? Neither did he ask the reason for it. It was not necessary for him to ask; he had not become commander of an interstellar cruiser without both intelligence and an understanding of human nature.

    They would not have to wait long; the computers would give the answer within moments of the asking. The new factors would be fed into the steel maw of the first bank, and the electrical impulses would go through the complex circuits. Here and there a relay might click, a tiny cog turn over, but it would be essentially the electrical impulses that found the answer; formless, mindless, invisible, determining with utter precision how long the pale girl beside him might live.

    Then five little segments of metal in the second bank would trip in rapid succession against an inked ribbon and a second steel maw would spit out the slip of paper that bore the answer. The chronometer on the instrument board read when the commander spoke again.

    He nodded and she dropped her eyes to her lap again. You will complete your report at nineteen ten. Now—here are the course corrections. There would, he saw, be periods of deceleration when he neared the atmosphere when the deceleration would be five gravities—and at five gravities, one hundred ten pounds would become five hundred fifty pounds. The technician finished and he terminated the contact with a brief acknowledgment.

    Then, hesitating a moment, he reached out and shut off the communicator. It was and he would have nothing to report until In the meantime, it somehow seemed indecent to permit others to hear what she might say in her last hour.

    He began to check the instrument readings, going over them with unnecessary slowness. She would have to accept the circumstances, and there was nothing he could do to help her into acceptance; words of sympathy would only delay it. The first border of the Western continent was already in sight along the left side of the world. Four thousand miles across it lay the shore of the Western Sea and the camp of Group One.

    In Fury Born

    It had been in the Western Sea that the tornado had originated, to strike with such fury at the camp and destroy half their prefabricated buildings, including the one that housed the medical supplies. Two days before, the tornado had not existed; it had been no more than great gentle masses of air over the calm Western Sea. Group One had gone about their routine survey work, unaware of the meeting of air masses out at sea, unaware of the force the union was spawning.

    It had struck their camp without warning—a thundering, roaring destruction that sought to annihilate all that lay before it. It had passed on, leaving the wreckage in its wake.

    It had destroyed the labor of months and had doomed six men to die and then, as though its task was accomplished, it once more began to resolve into gentle masses of air. But, for all its deadliness, it had destroyed with neither malice nor intent. It had been a blind and mindless force, obeying the laws of nature, and it would have followed the same course with the same fury had men never existed. Existence required order, and there was order; the laws of nature, irrevocable and immutable.

    Men could learn to use them, but men could not change them. The circumference of a circle was always pi times the diameter, and no science of man would ever make it otherwise. The combination of chemical A with chemical B under condition C invariably produced reaction D. The law of gravitation was a rigid equation, and it made no distinction between the fall of a leaf and the ponderous circling of a binary star system.

    The nuclear conversion process powered the cruisers that carried men to the stars; the same process in the form of a nova would destroy a world with equal efficiency. Along the frontier were arrayed all the forces of nature, and sometimes they destroyed those who were fighting their way outward from Earth. The men of the frontier had long ago learned the bitter futility of cursing the forces that would destroy them, for the forces were blind and deaf; the futility of looking to the heavens for mercy, for the stars of the galaxy swung in their long, long sweep of two hundred million years, as inexorably controlled as they by the laws that knew neither hatred nor compassion.

    The men of the frontier knew—but how was a girl from Earth to fully understand? She stirred again on the seat. I want to write to Mama and Daddy. Could you let me talk to him over your radio there?

    He switched on the normal-space transmitter and pressed the signal button. Someone answered the buzzer almost immediately. Is it something important—bad news for him, or something? When he comes in, get him to the transmitter as soon as you possibly can. Is there anything else I can do? Get him there as soon as you can and signal me.

    He tore off the sheet containing his flight instructions and handed the pad to her, together with pencil. He turned back to the viewscreen, to stare at it without seeing it. She was a lonely little child trying to say her last goodbye, and she would lay out her heart to them.

    She would tell them how much she loved them and she would tell them to not feel bad about it, that it was only something that must happen eventually to everyone and she was not afraid. The last would be a lie and it would be there to read between the sprawling, uneven lines: a valiant little lie that would make the hurt all the greater for them. Her brother was of the frontier and he would understand. He would not hate the EDS pilot for doing nothing to prevent her going; he would know there had been nothing the pilot could do.

    He would understand, though the understanding would not soften the shock and pain when he learned his sister was gone. But the others, her father and mother—they would not understand. They were of Earth and they would think in the manner of those who had never lived where the safety margin of life was a thin, thin line—and sometimes nothing at all.

    What would they think of the faceless, unknown pilot who had sent her to her death? He would never see them, never know them. He would have only the memories to remind him; only the nights of fear, when a blue-eyed girl in gypsy sandals would come in his dreams to die again … He scowled at the viewscreen and tried to force his thoughts into less emotional channels.

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    There was nothing he could do to help her. She had unknowingly subjected herself to the penalty of a law that recognized neither innocence nor youth nor beauty, that was incapable of sympathy or leniency. Regret was illogical—and yet, could knowing it to be illogical ever keep it away? She stopped occasionally, as though trying to find the right words to tell them what she wanted them to know; then the pencil would resume its whispering to the paper.

    It was when she folded the letter in a square and wrote a name on it. She began writing another, twice looking up at the chronometer, as though she feared the black hand might reach its rendezvous before she had finished. It was when she folded it as she had done the first letter and wrote a name and address on it. She held the letters out to him. They said he should be in right away. I never did feel like this before; like I was all by myself and there was nobody to care what happened to me.

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    Always, before, there were Mama and Daddy there and my friends around me. I had lots of friends, and they had a going-away party for me the night before I left. I always thought danger along the frontier was something that was a lot of fun; an exciting adventure, like in the three-D shows. She shifted her position slightly to lay them on the bench beside her, moving one foot out a little.

    For the first time he saw that she was not wearing Vegan gypsy sandals, but only cheap imitations; the expensive Vegan leather was some kind of grained plastic, the silver buckle was gilded iron, the jewels were colored glass.

    Her personal possessions on the Stardust would be taken back to her parents—they would neither be of much value nor occupy much storage space on the return voyage.

    He saw by the main temperature gauge that the room was at precisely normal temperature. There may not be much time left when he comes in—not much time to talk to him before he fades out. I wish I could do something about it—I would call him right now if I could.

    Now I see how selfish I was. My people are strangers to you. Like Gerry—he sent me a bracelet of fire rubies on my sixteenth birthday. Yet I remember him more for what he did the night my kitten got run over in the street. I was only six years old and he held me in his arms and wiped away my tears and told me not to cry, that Flossy was gone for just a little while, for just long enough to get herself a new fur coat, and she would be on the foot of my bed the very next morning.

    I believed him and quit crying and went to sleep dreaming about my kitten coming back. When I woke up the next morning, there was Flossy on the foot of my bed in a brand-new white fur coat, just like he had said she would be. I would like for them to remember me like that. They could never think of you other than the way you would want them to, the way you looked the last time they saw you.

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    Did you check with the computers? I did everything I could do. If there was anything at all I could do now, I would do it. Think of me like that, Gerry; always like that and not—the other way. The inner door of the air lock slid swiftly open to reveal the bare little cell that was waiting for her, and she walked to it. She walked with her head up and the brown curls brushing her shoulders, with the white sandals stepping as sure and steady as the fractional gravity would permit and the gilded buckles twinkling with little lights of blue and red and crystal.

    He let her walk alone and made no move to help her, knowing she would not want it that way. She stepped into the air lock and turned to face him, only the pulse in her throat to betray the wild beating of her heart.

    And I think it's really powerful that this transfer is happening, that these women are able not just to share their shame but to put the shame where it belongs: on the perpetrator. For some, the fear was born of a threat of physical violence. Pascual felt trapped and terrified when her harasser began to stalk her at home, but felt she was powerless to stop him.

    If she told anyone, the abuser warned her, he would come after her or her children. Those who are often most vulnerable in society—immigrants, people of color, people with disabilities, low-income workers and LGBTQ people—described many types of dread. If they raised their voices, would they be fired? Would their communities turn against them? Would they be killed? He called the women liars. But their stories were so similar to mine, and they were such credible women.

    There was no agenda other than they wanted to share this story, be free of this story. And in a magazine interview, he called the people who said this about him 'c-nts' and 'c-cksuckers. And I wanted to give a face to these now more than women who have come out. Juana Melara, who has worked as a hotel housekeeper for decades, says she and her fellow housekeepers didn't complain about guests who exposed themselves or masturbated in front of them for fear of losing the paycheck they needed to support their families.

    Melara recalls "feeling the pressure of someone's eyes" on her as she cleaned a guest's room. When she turned around, she remembers, a man was standing in the doorway, blocked by the cleaning cart, with his erect penis exposed.

    She yelled at the top of her lungs and scared him into leaving, then locked the door behind him. While guests come and go, some employees must continue to work side by side with their harassers. Crystal Washington was thrilled when she was hired as a hospitality coordinator at the Plaza, a storied hotel whose allure is as strong for people who want to work there as it is for those who can afford a suite.

    But then, she says, a co-worker began making crude remarks to her like "I can tell you had sex last night" and groping her. One of those encounters was even caught on camera, but the management did not properly respond, her lawyers say.

    I have an year-old daughter, and she's depending on me,' says Lewis, who still works at the hotel to make ends meet. I wasn't really left with the option of leaving. I'm not left with the option of giving up. I want to show her that it's O. If you keep fighting, eventually you'll see the sun on the other side. Washington has joined with six other female employees to file a sexual-harassment suit against the hotel.

    But she cannot afford to leave the job and says she must force herself out of bed every day to face the man she's accused. Other women, like the actor Selma Blair, weathered excruciating threats. Blair says she arrived at a hotel restaurant for a meeting with the independent film director James Toback in only to be told that he would like to see her in his room.

    There, she says, Toback told her that she had to learn to be more vulnerable in her craft and asked her to strip down.

    She took her top off. She says he then propositioned her for sex, and when she refused, he blocked the door and forced her to watch him masturbate against her leg. Afterward, she recalls him telling her that if she said anything, he would stab her eyes out with a Bic pen and throw her in the Hudson River.

    Blair says Toback lorded the encounter over her for decades. Many of the people who have come forward also mentioned a different fear, one less visceral but no less real, as a reason for not speaking out: if you do, your complaint becomes your identity. The Besh Group says it is implementing new policies to create a culture of respect.

    Besh apologized for "unacceptable behavior" and "moral failings," and resigned from the company. Iwu, the lobbyist, says she considered the same risks after she was groped in front of several colleagues at an event. She was shocked when none of her male co-workers stepped in to stop the assault. The next week, she organized women to sign an open letter exposing harassment in California government.

    When she told people about the campaign, she says they were wary. And that means we have to be willing to speak out when it's a member of our own party. Anonymous28Hospital worker More The mother of two told the HR department at the hospital where she worked that an executive there repeatedly came on to her. Why couldn't I force words out of my mouth? When I got home, I crumbled. I kept thinking, Did I do something, did I say something, did I look a certain way to make him think that was O. After she complained about a Denver radio DJ named David Mueller, who reached under her skirt and grabbed her rear end, Mueller was fired.

    He sued Swift for millions in damages. Mueller's lawyer asked her, on the witness stand, whether she felt bad that she'd gotten him fired. Not mine. Actors and writers and journalists and dishwashers and fruit pickers alike: they'd had enough. What had manifested as shame exploded into outrage. Fear became fury. She reported him to his radio station, KYGO, and he was terminated. He said her accusations were false and sued Swift.

    This man hadn't considered any formalities when he assaulted me Why should I be polite? This was the great unleashing that turned the MeToo hashtag into a rallying cry. The phrase was first used more than a decade ago by social activist Tarana Burke as part of her work building solidarity among young survivors of harassment and assault.

    A friend of the actor Alyssa Milano sent her a screenshot of the phrase, and Milano, almost on a whim, tweeted it out on Oct. She woke up the next day to find that more than 30, people had used MeToo. Milano burst into tears. At first, those speaking out were mostly from the worlds of media and entertainment, but the hashtag quickly spread. By November, California farmworkers, Pascual among them, were marching on the streets of Hollywood to express their solidarity with the stars.

    Women were no longer alone. When she rebuffed him, he changed her schedule and cut her hours. The reality of being a woman is the same—the difference is the risk each woman must take. Terranea Resort declined to comment except to say that the suit involves an outside agency.

    Grasham has since been dismissed by his agency and is being investigated by the Los Angeles Police Department. And gay men are often highly sexualized in the media, so coming out with a story of sexual assault, especially one that also involved alcohol and maybe drugs, there is an idea that 'Well, did you want it?.

    Grasham never represented Lipman. That's one of the reasons why the Access Hollywood tape that surfaced in October was such a jolt. The language used by the man who would become America's 45th President, captured on a recording, was, by any standard, vulgar. He didn't just say that he'd made a pass; he "moved on her like a bitch.

    It's why women seized on that crude word as the emblem of the protest that dwarfed Trump's Inauguration crowd size. McGowan's decision to speak to the press this year helped expose Weinstein as a serial harasser. People forget a lot that there's a human behind this, someone who is very hurt. But that's O. It fuels my fire.

    They really f-cked with the wrong person. So it was not entirely surprising that began with women donning "pussy hats" and marching on the nation's capital in a show of unity and fury. What was startling was the size of the protest. It was one of the largest in U. Summer Zervos, a former contestant on The Apprentice, was one of roughly 20 women to accuse the President of sexual harassment. She filed a defamation suit against Trump days before his Inauguration after he disputed her claims by calling her a liar.

    A New York judge is expected to decide soon if the President is immune to civil suits while in office. No matter the outcome, the allegations added fuel to a growing fire.

    By February, the movement had made its way to the billionaire dream factories of Silicon Valley, when Fowler spoke out about her "weird year" as an engineer at Uber. Wendy Walsh, a psychologist and former guest on the network, was one of the first women to share her story about the star anchor—but she was initially reluctant to go on the record.

    In June, Bill Cosby was brought to trial on charges that he had drugged and sexually assaulted a woman named Andrea Constand, one of nearly 50 women who have accused Cosby of sexual assault over several decades. Although the case ended in a mistrial—it is scheduled to be retried in April—the fact that it happened at all signaled a shift in the culture, a willingness to hold even beloved and powerful men accountable for past misdeeds.

    I dipped out of the industry. When I came back, I was put in a sausage dress. The hair got blonder and the cleavage got deeper and the heels higher. Fox had created a sort of Snapchat filter: any woman, even a woman with advanced degrees, would be turned into what looked like an office sex toy.

    Part of what happened to the women at Fox News started in the makeup room. Lindsey Reynolds32Food-Blog Editor More When she quit her job as social-media manager at the restaurant group of celebrity chef John Besh, Reynolds sent an email to her bosses complaining about the company's culture of sexism.

    She later filed a complaint with the EEOC.

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