them.

He could not cry for all tears seemed useless. He said a small prayer, something he had not done in years, over the cold thing left behind.

The rain had ceased outside. Somewhere out there in his world there were men trying to undo the harm that had been done, harm that he had helped to do, then retreated from. He had no right to retreat further.

Something spoke a requiem sentence in his consciousness, light as late sunset, only vaguely there. "We are here—we will wait for you ... come to us ... come ..."

He wrote a short note for the doctor and the others who would come and hunt and go through the motions that men must live by. Perhaps the doctor might even understand.

"I have gone plumbing," the note said.

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe August 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.

A section of text was missing from the original printing. To restore narrative flow, the following italicised text has been added as a suggested amendment: "It had begun to lightning and a few large drops of rain stroked Rush's cheek. Not a good year for the farming he had retreated to. Not a good year for anything."