you feel, Mr. Wiggin? Actually quite well, except hungry. Hungry? Oh, yes, they don’t let you eat for twenty hours before the launch. How interesting, I never knew that. All of us are quite hungry, actually. And all the while, during the interview, Ender and the TV guy would slink along smoothly in front of the cameraman, taking long, lithe strides. The TV guy was letting him be the spokesman for all the boys, though Ender was barely competent to speak for himself. For the first time, Ender felt like laughing. He smiled. The other boys near him were laughing at the moment, too, for another reason. They think I’m smiling at their joke, thought Ender. But I’m smiling at something much funnier.
“Go up the ladder one at a time,” said an officer. “When you come to an aisle with empty seats, take one. There aren’t any window seats.”
It was a joke. The other boys laughed.
Ender was near the last, but not the very last. The TV cameras did not give up, though. Will Valentine see me disappear into the shuttle? He thought of waving at her, of running to the cameraman and saying, “Can I tell Valentine good-bye?” He didn’t know that it would be censored out of the tape if he did, for the boys soaring out to Battle School were all supposed to be heroes. They weren’t supposed to miss anybody. Ender didn’t know about the censorship, but he did know that running to the cameras would be wrong.
He walked the short bridge to the door in the shuttle. He noticed that the wall to his right was carpeted like a floor. That was where the disorientation began. The moment he thought of the wall as a floor, he began to feel like he was walking on a wall. He got to the ladder, and noticed that the vertical surface behind it was also carpeted. I am climbing up the floor. Hand over hand, step by step.
And then, for fun, he pretended that he was climbing down the wall. He did it almost instantly in his mind, convinced himself against the best evidence of gravity until he reached an empty seat. He found himself gripping the seat tightly, even though gravity pulled him firmly against it.
The other boys were bouncing on their seats a little, poking and pushing, shouting. Ender carefully found the straps, figured out how they fit together to hold him at crotch, waist, and shoulders. He imagined the ship dangling upside down on the undersurface of the Earth, the giant fingers of gravity holding them firmly in place. But we will slip away, he thought. We are going to fall off this planet.
He did not know its significance at the time. Later, though, he would remember that it was even before he left Earth that he first thought of it as a planet, like any other, not particularly his own.
“Oh, already figured it out,” said Graff. He was standing on the ladder.
“Coming with us?” Ender asked.
“I don’t usually come down for recruiting,” Graff said. “I’m kind of in charge there. Administrator of the School. Like a principal. They told me I had to come back or I’d lose my job.” He smiled.
Ender smiled back. He felt comfortable with Graff. Graff was good. And he was principal of the Battle School. Ender relaxed a little. He would have a friend there.
Adults helped the other boys belt themselves in place, those who hadn’t done as Ender did. Then they waited for an hour while a TV at the front of the shuttle introduced them to shuttle flight, the history of space flight, and their possible future with the great starships of the I.F. Very boring stuff. Ender had seen such films before.
Except that he had not been belted into a seat inside the shuttle. Hanging upside down from the belly of Earth.
The launch wasn’t bad. A little scary. Some jolting, a few moments of panic that this might be the first failed launch since the early days of the shuttle. The movies hadn’t made it plain how much violence you could experience, lying on your back in a soft chair.
Then it was over, and he really was hanging by the straps, no gravity anywhere.
But because he had already reoriented himself, he was not surprised when Graff came up the ladder backward, as if he were climbing down to the front of the shuttle. Nor did it bother him when Graff hooked his feet under a rung