 How does Rikud change through the story?
When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's going, how can they tell when it has arrived? Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watch the great changeless sweep of space. But ever since the engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone, from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of his life, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings had grown. The stars—it was a meaningless concept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the bright pinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were not apparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Often Rikud had dreamed of the time he would be thirty and a father. Rikud knew that something which he could not explain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it had departed almost before Chuls knew of its existence. Rikud, for his part, wanted to get back to the viewport and watch the one new bright star. Rikud had been stopped in this action, although there was no real authority to stop him. There had been a revolt—again a term without any real meaning, a term that could have no reality outside of the reading machine—and the elders were overthrown. The people had decided that they did not know where they were going, or why, and that it was unfair that the elders alone had this authority. They were born and they lived and they died as the elders directed, like little cogs in a great machine. Much of this Rikud could not understand, but he knew enough to realize that the reading machine had sided with the people against the elders, and it said the people had won. He could see the look of easy contentment on Chuls' face as the rays fanned down upon him, bathing his old body in a forgotten magic which, many generations before Rikud's time, had negated the necessity for a knowledge of medicine. Rikud often thought of his own death, still seventy-five years in the future, not without a sense of alarm. But if he wasn't reading himself, Rikud usually went to sleep. "You know," Rikud said, sitting up now, "the stars in the viewport are changing." "Astronomy says some stars are variable," Crifer offered, but Rikud knew his lame-footed companion understood the word no better than he did. Over on Rikud's right, Chuls began to dress.
 He questions his world, his lack of autonomy, and what it really means to live.
 He questions his world, his lack of autonomy, and what it really means to live.  He realizes that he will one day have a mate chosen for him, and children as well.  He realizes his desire to feel pain, and to hurt for the first time.  He questions his "strange" thoughts, and how pervasive they are.