All of us seemed to come through unscathed by the brief battle with the UNWG forces.
Another of the crowd around the bar, a young man with piercing eyes, content to sip on club soda said, “A history teacher. You’re kind of old. What can you bring to the table where we’re going?”
A couple who had identified themselves as Mariana and Andrew Stuart both chuckled and she said, “Now Jack, be nice. There’s a place for everyone–”
“Actually,” the older man said, “I know a lot of things about a lot of things but besides, someone has to chronicle what we’re doing. Our children’s children’s children will want to know what brought us to the new planet, how we formed a government, what led up to their present situation. I rather fancy being the historian for the group. Besides, I was sick of gardening.”
“Well then,” the young man Jack said, “I dub thee ‘The Historian’.”
A middle-aged fellow, Dave, turned to Tim Watson and said, “Another beer, my good man.”
There were several others there and they soon began introducing themselves to each other and discussing everything under the Sun, or rather, the stars. Unobtrusively, the one dubbed The Historian decided this would be a good time to turn on his wrist-pad microphone and perhaps record for time immemorial the early comments of some of the colonists.