 No weapon has ever been frightful enough to put a stop to war, perhaps because we never before had any that thought for themselves. Taylor sat back in his chair reading the morning newspaper. The warm kitchen and the smell of coffee blended with the comfort of not having to go to work. This was his rest period, the first for a long time, and he was glad of it. He folded the second section back, sighing with contentment. What is it, Mary said from the stove. They paced at Moscow again last night. Taylor nodded his head in approval, gave it a real pounding. One of those R.H. bombs. It's about time. He nodded again, feeling the full comfort of the kitchen, the presence of his plump, attractive wife, the breakfast dishes, and coffee. This was relaxation. And the war news was good, good and satisfying. He could feel a justifiable glow at the news, a sense of pride and personal accomplishment, after all. He was an integral part of the war program, not just another factory worker plugging a cart of scrap, but a technician, one of those who designed and planned the nerve trunk of the war. It says they have the new subs almost perfected, wait until they get those going. He smacked his lips with anticipation. When they start shelling from underwater, the Soviets are sure going to be surprised. They're doing a wonderful job, Mary agreed vaguely. Do you know what we saw today? Our team is getting a letty to show to the school children. I saw the letty, but only for a moment. It's good for the children to see what their contributions are going for, don't you think? She looked around at him. A letty, Taylor murmured. He put the newspaper slowly down. Well, made sure it's decontaminated properly. We don't want to take any chances. Oh, they always bade them when they're brought down from the surface, Mary said. They wouldn't think of letting them down without the bath, would they? She hesitated, thinking back. Done, you know, it makes me remember. He nodded. I know. He knew what she was thinking. Once in the very first weeks of the war before everyone had been evacuated from the surface, they had seen a hospital train discharging the wounded, people who had been showered with sleet. He remembered the way they had looked the expression on their faces, or as much of their faces as was left. It had not been a pleasant sight. There had been a lot of that at first in the early days before the transfer to under-surface was complete. There had been a lot, and it hadn't been very difficult to come across it. Taylor looked up at his wife. She was thinking too much about it the last few months. They all were. Forget it, he said. It's all in the past. There isn't anybody up there now put the leddies, and they don't mind. But just the same. I hope they're careful when they let one of them down here. If one were still hot. He laughed, pushing himself away from the table. Forget it. This is a wonderful moment. I'll be home for the next two shifts. Nothing to do but sit around and take things easy. Maybe we can take in a show, okay? A show? Do we have to? I don't like to look at all the destruction, the ruins. Sometimes I see some place I remember like San Francisco. They showed a shot of San Francisco, the bridge broken and fallen in the water, and I got upset. I don't like to watch. But don't you want to know what's going on? No human beings are getting hurt, you know. But it's so awful. Her face was set and strained. Please, no, Don. Don Taylor picked up his newspaper sullenly. All right. But there isn't a hell of a lot else to do. And don't forget, their cities are getting it even worse. She nodded. Taylor turned the rough thin sheets of newspaper. His good mood had soared on him. Why did she have to fret all the time? They were pretty well off, as things went. You couldn't expect to have everything perfect living under surface with an artificial sun and artificial food. Naturally, it was a strain not seeing the sky or being able to go any place or see anything other than metal walls, great roaring factories, the plant yards, barracks. But it was better than being on surface. And some day it would end and they could return. Nobody wanted to live this way, but it was necessary. He turned the page angrily and the poor paper ripped. Damn it! The paper was getting worse quality all the time. Bad print, yellow tint. Well, they needed everything for the war program. He ought to know that. Wasn't he one of the planners? He excused himself and went into another room. The bed was still unmade. They had better get it in shape before the seventh hour inspection. There was a one unit fine. The vid phone rang. He hauled it. Who would it be? He went over and clicked it on. Taylor, the face said, forming into place. It was an old face gray and grim. This is moss. I'm sorry to bother you during rest period, but this thing has come up. He rattled papers. I want you to hurry over here. Taylor stiffened. What is it? There's no chance it could wait. The calm gray eyes were studying him, expressionless, unjudging. If you want me to come down to the lab, Taylor grumbled, I suppose I can. I'll get my uniform. No. Come as you are and not to the lab. Meet me at second stage as soon as possible. It'll take you about a half hour using the fast car up. I'll see you there. The picture broke and moss disappeared. What was it? Mary said at the door. Moss, he wants me for something. I knew this would happen. Well, you didn't want to do anything anyhow. What does it matter? His voice was bitter. It's all the same every day. I'll bring you back something. I'm going up to second stage. Maybe I'll be close enough to the surface to... Don't. Don't bring me anything, not from the surface. All right, I won't. But of all the irrational nonsense. She watched him put on his boots without answering. Moss, Nodditt, and Taylor fell in step with him as the older man strode along. A series of loads were going up to the surface, blind cars clanking like war trucks up the ramp, disappearing through the stage trap above them. Taylor watched the cars, heavy with tubular machinery of some sort, weapons new to him. Workers were everywhere in the dark gray uniforms of the labor corps, loading, lifting, shouting back and forth. The stage was deafening with noise. We'll go up away, Moss said, where we can talk. This is no place to give you details. They took an escalator up. The commercial lift fell behind them, and with it most of the crashing and booming. Soon they emerged on an observation platform, suspended on the side of the tube, the vast tunnel leading to the surface, not more than half a mile above them now. My God, Taylor said, looking down the tube involuntarily. It's a long way down. Moss laughed. Don't look. They opened the door and entered an office. Behind the desk an officer was sitting, an officer of internal security. He looked up. I'll be right with you, Moss. He gazed at Taylor studying him. You're a little ahead of time. This is Commander Franks, Moss said to Taylor. He was the first to make the discovery. I was notified last night. He tapped a parcel he carried. I was let in because of this. Franks frowned at him and stood up. We're going up to first stage. We can discuss it there. First stage, Taylor repeated nervously. The three of them went down a signed passage to a small lift. I've never been up there. Is it all right? It's not radioactive, is it? You're like everyone else, Franks said. Old women afraid of burglars. No radiation leaks down to first stage. There's lead and rock and what comes down the tube is bathed. What's the nature of the problem, Taylor asked. I'd like to know something about it. In a moment. They entered the lift and ascended. When they stepped out, they were in a hall of soldiers, weapons and uniforms everywhere. Taylor blinked in surprise. So this was first stage, the closest under surface level to the top. After this stage there was only rock, lead and rock and the great tubes leading up like the burrows of earthworms. Lead and rock and above that where the tubes opened, the great expanse that no living being had seen for eight years, the vast endless ruin that had once been man's home, the place where he had lived eight years ago. Now the surface was a lethal desert of slag and rolling clouds. Endless clouds drifted back and forth, blotting out the red sun. Occasionally something metallic stirred, moving through the remains of a city, threading its way across the tortured terrain of the countryside. A leddie, a surface robot, immune to radiation, constructed with feverish haste in the last months before the cold war became literally hot. Letties crawling along the ground, moving over the oceans and through the skies in slender blackened craft, creatures that could exist where no life could remain, metal and plastic figures that waged the war man had conceived but which he could not fight himself. Human beings had invented war, invented and manufactured the weapons, even invented the players, the fighters, the actors of the war, but they themselves could not venture forth, could not wager themselves. In all the world, in Russia, in Europe, America, Africa, no living human being remained. They were under the surface in the deep shelters that had been carefully planned and built, even as the first bombs began to fall. It was a brilliant idea, and the only idea that could have worked. Up above on the ruined, blasted surface of what had once been a living planet, the leddie crawled and scurried and fought man's war, and under surface in the depths of the planet, human beings toiled endlessly to produce the weapons to continue the fight, month by month, year by year. First stage, Taylor said, a strange ache went through him, almost to the surface, but not quite, Moss said. Franks led them through the soldiers over to one side near the lip of the tube. In a few minutes a lift will bring something down to us from the surface, he explained. You see, Taylor, every once in a while security examines and interrogates a surface leddie, one that has been above for a time, to find out certain things. A vid call is sent up and contact is made with the field headquarters. We need this direct interview. We can't depend on vid screen contact alone. The leddies are doing a good job, but we want to make certain that everything is going the way we want it. Franks faced Taylor and Moss and continued. The lift will bring down a leddie from the surface, one of the A-class leddies. There's an examination chamber in the next room with a lead wall in the center so the interviewing officers won't be exposed to radiation. We find this easier than bathing the leddie. It is going right back up. It has a job to get back to. Two days ago an A-class leddie was brought down and interrogated. I conducted the session myself. We were interested in a new weapon the Soviets have been using, an automatic mind that pursues anything that moves. Military had sent instructions up that the mind be observed and reported in detail. This A-class leddie was brought down with information. We learned a few facts from it, obtained the usual role of film and reports, and then sent it back up. It was going out of the chamber, back to the lift, what a curious thing happened. At the time, I thought Franks broke off. A red light was flashing. That down lift is coming. He nodded to some soldiers. Let's enter the chamber. The leddie will be along in a moment. An A-class leddie, Taylor said. I've seen them on the show screens making their reports. It's quite an experience, Moss said. They're almost human. They entered the chamber and seated themselves behind the led wall. After a time a signal was flashed and Franks made a motion with his hands. The door beyond the wall opened. Taylor peered through his view slot. He saw something advancing slowly, a slender metallic figure moving on a tread, its arm grips at rest by its sides. The figure hauled it and scanned the led wall. It stood, waiting. We are interested in learning something, Franks said. Before I question you, do you have anything to report on surface conditions? No. The wall continues. The leddie's voice was automatic and toneless. We are a little short of fast pursuit craft, the single seat type. We could use also some. That has all been noted. What I want to ask you is this. Our contact with you has been through vid screen only. We must rely on indirect evidence since none of us goes above. We can only infer what is going on. We never see anything ourselves. We have to take it all second hand. Some top leaders are beginning to think there's too much room for error. Error. The leddie asked. In what way? Our reports are checked carefully before they're set down. We maintain constant contact with you. Everything of value is reported. Any new weapons which the enemy is seen to employ. I realize that Franks grunted behind his peep slug. But perhaps we should see it all for ourselves. Is it possible that there might be a large enough radiation free area for a human party to ascend to the surface? If a few of us were to come up in lead line suits, would we be able to survive long enough to observe conditions and watch things? The machine hesitated before answering. I doubt it. You can check their samples of course and decide for yourselves. But in the eight years since you left, things have continually worsened. You cannot have any real idea of conditions up there. It has become difficult for any moving object to survive for long. There are many kinds of projectiles sensitive to movement. The new mind not only reacts to motion, but continues to pursue the object indefinitely until it finally reaches it. And the radiation is everywhere. I see. Franks turned the moss, his eyes narrowed oddly. Well, that was what I wanted to know. You may go. The machine moved back towards its exit. It paused. I understand, Franks rose. He held out his hand and moss passed in the package. One thing before you leave. I want you to examine a new type of metal shield material. I'll pass you a sample with the tong. Franks put the package in the tooth grip and revolved the tong so that he held the other end. The package swung down to the leddie which took it. They watched it unwrap the package and take the metal plate in its hands. The leddie turned the metal over and over. Suddenly it became rigid. All right, Franks said. He put his shoulder against the wall and a section slid aside. Taylor gasped. Franks and moss were hurrying up to the leddie. Good God, Taylor said, but it's radioactive. The leddie stood unmoving, still holding the metal. Soldiers appeared in the chamber. They surrounded the leddie and ran a counter across it carefully. Okay, sir. One of them said to Franks, it's as cold as a long winter evening. Good. I was sure, but I didn't want to take any chances. You see, Moss said to Taylor, this leddie isn't hot at all. Yet it came directly from the surface without even being bathed. But what does it mean, Taylor asked blankly. It may be an accident, Franks said. There's always the possibility that a given object might escape being exposed above. But this is the second time it's happened that we know of. There may be others. The second time? The previous interview was when we noticed it. The leddie was not hot. It was cold, too, like this one. Moss took back the metal plate from the leddie's hands. He pressed the surface carefully and returned it to the stiff, unprotesting fingers. We shorted it out with this, so we could get close enough for a thorough check. It'll come back on in a second now. We had better get behind the wall again. They walked back, and the lead wall swung closed behind them. The soldiers left the chamber. Two periods from now, Franks said softly, an initial investigating party will be ready to go surface side. We're going up the tube in suits, up to the top, the first human party to leave under surface in eight years. It may mean nothing, Moss said, but I doubt it. Something's going on. Something strange. The leddie told us no life could exist above without being roasted. The story doesn't fit. Taylor nodded. He stared through the peep slot at the immobile metal figure. Already the leddie was beginning to stir. It was bent in several places, dented and twisted, and its finish was blackened and charred. It was a leddie that had been up there a long time. It had seen war and destruction, ruin so vast that no human being could imagine the extent. It had crawled and slunk in a world of radiation and death, a world where no life could exist. And Taylor had touched it. You're going with us, Franks said suddenly. I want you along. I think the three of us will go. Mary faced him with a sick and frightened expression. I know it. You're going to the surface, aren't you? She followed him into the kitchen. Taylor sat down, looking away from her. It's a classified project, he evaded. I can't tell you anything about it. You don't have to tell me. I know. I knew it the moment you came in. There was something on your face, something I haven't seen there for a long, long time. It was an old look. She came toward him. But how can they send you to the surface? She took his face in her shaking hands, making him look at her. There was a strange hunger in her eyes. Nobody can live up there. Look, look at this. She grabbed up a newspaper and held it in front of him. Look at this photograph. America, Europe, Asia, Africa. Nothing but ruins. We've seen it every day on the show screens. All destroyed, poisoned. And they're sending you up. Why? No living thing can get by up there, not even a weed or grass. They've wrecked the surface, haven't they? Haven't they? Taylor stood up. It's an order. I know nothing about it. I was told to report to join a scout party. That's all I know. He stood for a long time staring ahead. Slowly he reached for the newspaper and held it up to the light. It looks real, he murmured. Ruins, deadness, slag. It's convincing. All the reports, photographs, films, even air samples. Yet we haven't seen it for ourselves. Not after the first months. What are you talking about? Nothing. He put the paper down. I'm leaving early after the next sleep period. Let's turn in. Mary turned away, her face hard and harsh. Do what you want. We might just as well all go up and get killed at once, instead of dying slowly down here, like vermin in the ground. He had not realized how resentful she was. Were they all like that? How about the workers toiling in the factories day and night, endlessly? The pale, stooped men and women, plotting back and forth to work, blinking in the colorless light, eating synthetics. You shouldn't be so bitter, he said. Mary smiled a little. I'm bitter because I know you'll never come back. She turned away. I'll never see you again once you go up there. He was shocked. What? How can you say a thing like that? She did not answer. He awakened with the public newscasters screeching in his ears, shouting outside the building. Special news bulletin, surface forces report enormous Soviet attack with new weapons, retreat of key groups, all work units report to factories at once. Taylor blinked, rubbing his eyes. He jumped out of bed and hurried to the Vid phone. A moment later he was put through to Moss. Listen, he said. What about this new attack? Is the project off? He could see Moss's desk covered with reports and papers. No, Moss said. We're going right ahead. Get over here at once. But don't argue with me. Moss held up a handful of surface bulletins, crumbling them savagely. This is a fake. Come on. He broke off. Taylor dressed furiously his mind in a daze. Half an hour later he leaped from a fast car and hurried up the stairs into the synthetics building. The corridors were full of men and women rushing in every direction. He entered Moss's office. There you are. Moss said, getting up immediately. Franks is waiting for us at the outgoing station. They went in a security car, the sirens screaming. Workers scattered out of their way. What about the attack? Taylor asked. Moss braced his shoulders. We're certain that we forced their hand. We brought the issue to a head. They pulled up at the station link of the tube and leaped out. A moment later they were moving up at high speed toward the first stage. They emerged into a bewildering scene of activity. Soldiers were fastening on lead suits, talking excitedly to each other, shouting back and forth. Guns were being given out. Instructions passed. Taylor studied one of the soldiers. He was armed with a dreaded bender pistol, the new snub-nosed hand weapon that was just beginning to come from the assembly line. Some of the soldiers looked a little frightened. I hope we're not making a mistake, Moss said, noticing his gaze. Franks came toward them. Here's the program. The three of us are going up first, alone. The soldiers will follow in fifteen minutes. What are we going to tell the letties? Taylor worriedly asked. We'll have to tell them something. We want to observe the new Soviet attack, Franks smiled ironically, since it seems to be so serious we should be there in person to witness it. And then what? Taylor said. That'll be up to them. Let's go. In a small car they went swiftly up the tube, carried by anti-grab beams from below. Taylor glanced down from time to time. It was a long way back and getting longer each moment. He sweated nervously inside his suit, gripping his bender pistol with in-expert fingers. Why had they chosen him? Chance, poor chance. Moss had asked him to come along as a department member. Then Franks had picked him out on the spur of the moment. And now they were rushing toward the surface, faster and faster. A deep fear instilled in him for eight years throbbed in his mind. Radiation. Certain death. A world blasted and lethal. Up and up the car went. Taylor ripped the sides and closed his eyes. Each moment they were closer. The first living creatures to go above the first stage of the tube passed the lead and rock. Up to the surface. The phobic horror shook him in waves. It was death, they all knew that. Hadn't they seen it in the films a thousand times? The cities, the sleep coming down. The rolling clouds. It won't be much longer, Franks said. We're almost there. The surface tower is not expecting us. I gave orders that no signal was to be sent. The car shot up, rushing furiously. Taylor's head spun. He hung on, his eyes shut. Up and up the car stopped. He opened his eyes. They were in a vast room, fluorescent lit, a cavern filled with equipment and machinery, endless mounds of material piled in row after row. Among the stacks, LEDs were working silently, pushing trucks and hand carts. LEDs, Moss said. His face was pale, then were really on the surface. The LEDs were going back and forth with equipment, moving the vast stores of guns and spare parts, ammunition and supplies that had been brought to the surface. And this was the receiving station for only one tube. There were many others scattered throughout the continent. Taylor looked nervously around him. They were really there, above ground, on the surface. This was where the war was. Come on, Franks said. A B-class guard is coming our way. They stepped out of the car. A leddie was approaching them rapidly. It coasted up in front of them and stopped, scanning them with its hand weapon raised. This is security, Franks said. Have an A-class sent to me at once. The leddie hesitated. Other B-class guards were coming, scooting across the floor, alert and armed. Moss peered around. Obey, Franks said in a loud commanding voice. You've been ordered. The leddie moved uncertainly away from them. At the end of the building a door slid back. Two A-class leddies appeared, coming slowly toward them. Each had a green stripe across its front. From the surface council, Franks whispered tensely. This is above ground, all right. Get set. The two leddies approached wearily. Without speaking, they stopped close by the men, looking them up and down. I'm Franks of security. We came from under surface in order to- This is incredible. One of the leddies interrupted him coldly. You know you can't live up here. The whole surface is legal to you. You can't possibly remain on the surface. These suits will protect us, Franks said. In any case, it's not your responsibility. What I want is an immediate council meeting so I can acquaint myself with conditions with the situation here. Can that be arranged? You human beings can't survive up here, and the new Soviet attack is directed at this area. It is inconsiderable danger. We know that. Please assemble the council. Franks looked around him at the vast room lit by recessed lamps in the ceiling. An uncertain quality came into his voice. Is it night or day right now? Night. One of the A-class leddies said after a pause. Dawn is coming in about two hours. Franks nodded. We'll remain at least two hours then. As a concession to our sentimentality, would you please show us some place where we can observe the sun as it comes up? We would appreciate it. A stirrer went through the leddies. It is an unpleasant sight. One of the leddies said. You've seen the photographs. You know what you'll witness. Clowns of drifting particles fly out the light. Slag eats are everywhere. The whole M is destroyed. For you it will be a staggering sight. Much worse than pictures and film techniques. However it may be we'll stay long enough to see it. Will you give the order to the council? Come this way. Reluctantly the two leddies coasted toward the wall of the warehouse. The three men trudged after them their heavy shoes ringing against the concrete. At the wall the two leddies paused. This is the entrance to the council chamber. There are windows in the chamber room, but it is still dark outside, of course. You'll see nothing right now but in two hours. Open the door, Franks said. The door slid back. They went slowly inside. The room was small, a neat room with a round table in the center, chairs ringing it. The three of them sat down silently, and the two leddies followed after them, taking their places. The other council members are on their way. They have already been notified and are coming as quickly as they can. Again, I urge you to go back down. The leddies surveyed the three human beings. There is no way you can meet the conditions up here. Even we survived with some trouble ourselves. How can you expect to do it? The leader approached Franks. This astonishes and perplexes us. It said, Of course we must do what you tell us, but allow me to point out that if you remain here. We know, Franks said impatiently. However, we intend to remain, at least until sunrise. Yet you insist. There was silence. The leddies seemed to be conferring with each other, although the three men heard no sound. For your own good, the leader said at last. You must go back down. We have discussed this, and it seems to us that you are doing the wrong thing for your own good. We are human beings, Franks said sharply. Don't you understand? We're men, not machines. That is precisely why you must go back. This room is radioactive. All surface areas are. We calculate that your suits will not protect you for over fifty more minutes. Therefore... The leddies moved abruptly toward the men, wheeling in a circle, forming a solid row. The men stood up, Taylor reaching awkwardly for his weapon, his fingers numb and stupid. The men stood facing the silent metal figures. We must insist. The leader said its voice without emotion. We must take you back to the tube, and send you down on the next part. I am sorry, but hideous necessary. What'll we do, Moss said nervously to Franks. He touched his gun. Shall we blast him? Franks shook his head. All right, he said to the leader. We'll go back. He moved toward the door, motioning Taylor and Moss to follow him. They looked at him in surprise, but they came with him. The leddies followed them out into the great warehouse. Slowly they moved toward the tube entrance, none of them speaking. At the lip Franks turned. We are going back because we have no choice. There are three of us, and about a dozen of you. However, if you... Here comes the car, Taylor said. There was a grating sound from the tube. D-class leddies moved toward the edge to receive it. I am sorry, the leader said. But it is for your protection. We are watching over you, literally. You must stay below and let us conduct the war. In a sense it has come to be our war. We must fight it as we see fit. The car rose to the surface. Twelve soldiers armed with bender pistols stepped from it and surrounded three men. Moss breathed a sigh of relief. Well, this does change things. It came off just right. The leader moved back, away from the soldiers. It studied them intently, glancing from one to the next, apparently trying to make up its mind. At last it made a sign to the other leddies. They coasted aside and a corridor was opened up toward the warehouse. Even now, the leader said, we could send you back by force, but it is evident that this is not really an observation party at all. These soldiers show that you have much more in mind. This was all carefully prepared. Very carefully, Frank said. They closed in. How much more we can only guess. I must admit that we were taken unprepared. We failed utterly to meet the situation. Now, force would be at serve. But neither side can afford to enter the other. We, because of the restrictions placed on us, regard in human life. You, because the war demands. The soldiers fired quick and in fright. Moss dropped a one knee firing up. The leader dissolved in a cloud of particles. On all sides, D and B-class leddies were rushing up, some with weapons, some with metal slats. The room was in confusion. Off in the distance, a siren was screaming. Franks and Taylor were cut off from the others, separated from the soldiers by a wall of metal bodies. They can't fire back, Franks said calmly. This is another bluff. They tried to bluff us all the way. He fired into the face of a leddie. The leddie dissolved. They can only try to frighten us. Remember that. They went on firing and leddie after leddie vanished. The room reeked with the smell of burning metal, the stink of fused plastic and steel. Taylor had been knocked down. He was struggling to find his gun, reaching wildly among metal legs, groping frantically to find it. His fingers strained. A handle swam in front of him. Suddenly something came down on his arm, a metal foot. He cried out. Then it was over. The leddies were moving away, gathering together off to one side. Only four of the surface council remained. The others were radioactive particles in the air. D-class leddies were already restoring order, gathering up partly destroyed metal figures and bits and removing them. Franks breathed a shuttering sigh. All right, he said. You can take us back to the windows. It won't be long now. The leddie separated, and the human group, Moss and Franks and Taylor and the soldiers walked slowly across the room toward the door. They entered the council chamber. Already a faint touch of gray mitigated the blackness of the windows. Take us outside, Franks said impatiently. We'll see it directly, not in here. A door slid open. A chilled blast of cold morning air rushed in, chilling them even through their lead suits. The men glanced at each other uneasily. Come on, Franks said, outside. He walked out through the door, the others following him. They were on a hill overlooking the vast bowl of a valley, dimly against a graying sky. The outline of mountains were forming, becoming tangible. It'll be bright enough to see in a few minutes, Moss said. He shuddered as a chilling wind caught him and moved around him. It's worth it, really worth it, to see this again after eight years, even if it's the last thing we see. Watch, Franks snapped. They obeyed, silent and subdued. The sky was clearing, brightening each moment. Some place far off, echoing across the valley a rooster crowed. A chicken, Taylor murmured. Did you hear? Behind them the leddies had come out and were standing silently, watching too. The gray sky turned to white and the hills appeared more clearly, light spread across the valley floor moving toward them. God in heaven, Franks explained. Trees, trees and forests, a valley of plants and trees with a few roads winding among them, farmhouses, a windmill, a barn far down below them. Look, Moss whispered. Color came into the sky. The sun was approaching, birds began to sing. Not far from where they stood, the leaves of a tree danced in the wind. Franks turned to the row of leddies behind them. Eight years. We were tricked. There was no war, as soon as we left surface. Yes. An A-class leddie admitted. As soon as you left, the war ceased. You're right, it was a hoax. You weren't our under-surface sending up guns and weapons, and we destroyed them as fast as they came up. But why, Taylor asked Days? He stared down at the vast valley below. Why? You created us, the leddie said. To pursue the war for you, my human beings went below the ground in order to survive. But before we could continue the war, it was necessary to analyze it to determine what its purpose was. We did this and we found that it had no purpose, except perhaps in terms of human needs. Even this was questionable. We investigated further. We found that human cultures pass through phases, each culture in its own time. As the culture ages and begins to lose its objectives, conflict arises within it between those who wish to cast it off and set up a new culture pattern and those who wish to retain the old with as little change as possible. At this point, a great danger appears. The conflict within threatens to involve the society in self-war group against group. The mild traditions may be lost, not merely altered or reformed, but completely destroyed in this period of chaos and anarchy. We have found many such examples in the history of mankind. It is necessary for this hatred within the culture to be directed outward toward an external group so that the culture itself may survive its crisis. War is the result. War to a logical mind is absurd. But in terms of human needs, it plays a vital role, and it will continue to until man has grown up enough so that no hatred lies within him. Taylor was listening intently. Do you think this time will come? Of course, it has almost arrived now. This is the last war. Man is almost united into one final culture, a world culture. At this point he stands, continent against continent, one half of the world against the other half. Only a single step remains the jump to a unified culture. Man has planned slowly upward tending always toward unification of his culture. It will not be long, but it has not come yet, and so the war had to go on to satisfy the last violent surge of hatred that man felt. Eight years have passed since the war began. In those eight years, we have observed and noted important changes going on in the minds of men. Fatigue and disinterest we have seen are gradually taking the place of hatred and fear. The hatred is being exhausted gradually over a period of time, but for the present the hopes must go on at least for a while longer. You are not ready to learn the truth. You would want to continue the war. But how did you manage it, Mostas? All the photographs, the samples, the damaged equipment. Come over here. The leddie directed them toward a long, low building. Work goes on constantly, full-staffed livery to maintain a coherent and convincing picture of a global war. They entered the building. Leddies were working everywhere, pouring over tables and desks. The A-class leddie said. Two leddies were carefully photographing something, an elaborate model on a tabletop. The men grouped around, trying to see. It was a model of a ruined city. Taylor studied it in silence for a long time. At last he looked up. It's San Francisco, he said in a low voice. This is a model of San Francisco. Destroyed. I saw this on the vid screen piped down to us. The bridges were hit. Yes, notice the bridges. The leddie traced the ruined span with his metal finger, a tiny spider web almost invisible. You have no doubt seen photographs of this many times. And of the other tables in this building. San Francisco itself is completely intact. We restored it soon after you left, rebuilding the parts that had been damaged at the start of the war. The work of manufacturing news goes on all the time in this particular building. We are very careful to see that each part is in with all the other parts. Much time and effort are devoted to it. Franks touched one of the tiny model buildings, lying half in ruins. So this is what you spend your time doing. Making model cities and then blasting them. No, we do much more. We are caretakers watching over the whole world. The owners have left for a time and we must see that the cities are kept clean, that decay is prevented, that everything is kept oiled and in running condition. The gardens, the streets, the water mains. Everything must be maintained as it was eight years ago, so that when the owners return, they will not be displeased. We want to be sure that they will be completely satisfied. Franks tapped Moss on the arm. Come over here, he said in the low voice. I want to talk to you. He led Moss and Taylor out of the building, away from the leddies, outside on the hillside. The soldiers followed them. The sun was up and the sky was turning blue. The air smelled sweet and good. The smell of growing things. Taylor removed his helmet and took a deep breath. I haven't smelled that smell for a long time, he said. Listen, Franks said, his voice low and hard. We must get back down at once. There's a lot to get started on. All this can be turned to our advantage. What do you mean? Moss asked. It's a certainty that the Soviets have been tricked to, the same as us. But we have found out. That gives us an advantage over them. I see Moss nodded. We know, but they don't. Their surface council has sold out the same as ours. It works against them the same way. But if we could, with a hundred top-level men, we could take over again, restore things as they should be. It would be easy. Moss touched him on the arm. An A-class leddie was coming from the building toward them. We've seen enough, Franks said, raising his voice. All this is very serious. It must be reported below and a study made to determine our policy. The leddie said nothing. Franks waved to the soldiers. Let's go. He started toward the warehouse. Most of the soldiers had removed their helmets. Some of them had taken their lead suits off, too, and were relaxing comfortably in their cotton uniforms. They stared around them down the hillside at the trees and bushes, the vast expanse of green, the mountains and the sky. Look at the sun, one of them murmured. It sure is bright as hell, another said. We're going back down, Franks said. Fall in by twos and follow us. Reluctantly the soldiers regrouped. The leddies watched without emotion as the men marched slowly back toward the warehouse. Franks and Moss and Taylor led them across the ground, glancing alertly at the leddies as they walked. They entered the warehouse. D-class leddies were loading material and weapons on surface carts. Cranes and derricks were working busily everywhere. The work was done with efficiency but without hurry or excitement. The men stopped watching. Leddies, operating the little carts, moved past them, signaling silently to each other. Guns and parts were being hoisted by magnetic cranes and lowered gently on the waiting carts. Come on, Franks said. He turned toward the lip of the tube. A row of D-class leddies was standing in front of it, immobile and silent. Franks stopped moving back. He looked around. An A-class leddie was coming toward him. Tell them to get out of the way, Franks said. He touched his gun. You had better move them. Time passed an endless moment without measure. The men stood nervous and alert, watching the row of leddies in front of them. The A-class leddie said. It signaled and the D-class leddies moved into light. They stepped slowly aside. Moss breathed a sigh of relief. I'm glad that's over, he said to Franks. Look at them all. Why don't they try to stop us? They must know what we're going to do. Franks laughed. Stop us? You saw what happened when they tried to stop us before. They can't. They're only machines. We've built them so they can't lay hands on us, and they know that. His voice trailed off. The men stared at the tube entrance. Around them the leddies watched silent and impassive. Their metal faces expressionless. For a long time the men stood without moving. At last Taylor turned away. Good God, he said. He was numb without feeling of any kind. The tube was gone. It was sealed shut, fused over. Only a dull surface of cooling metal greeted them. The tube had been closed. Franks turned his face pale and vacant. The A-class leddie shifted. As you can see, the tube has been shut. We were prepared for this. As soon as all of you were on the surface, the order was given. If you had gone back when we asked you, you would now be safely down below. We had to work quickly because it was such an immense operation. But why must be manned angrily? Because it is unthinkable that you should be allowed to resume the war. With all the tubes sealed, it will be many much before forces from below can reach the surface. Let alone organize a military program. By that time, the cycle will have entered its last stages. You will not be so overturned to find your world intact. We had hoped that you would be under surface when a ceiling occurred. Your presence here is a new sense. When the Soviets broke through, we were able to accomplish their ceiling without- The Soviets? They broke through? Several months ago, they came up unexpectedly to see why the war had not been won. We were forced to act with speed. At this moment they are desperately attempting to cut new tubes to the surface to resume the war. We have, however, been able to seal each one as it appears. The Leti regarded the three men calmly. We are cut off, Moss said trembling. We can't get back. What'll we do? How did you manage to seal a tube so quickly? Franks asked the Leti. We've been up here only two hours. Gripping the handle of his gun, Franks turned to Moss and Taylor. What do you say? We can't go back, but we can do a lot of damage. The 15 of us. We have vendor guns. How about it? He looked around. The soldiers had wandered away again, back toward the exit of the building. They were standing outside, looking at the valley in the sky. A few of them were carefully climbing down the slope. Would you care to turn over your suits and guns? The A-class Leti asked politely. The suits are uncomfortable and don't have no meat or weapons. The Russians have given up theirs as you can see. Fingers tensed on triggers. Poor men in Russian uniforms were coming toward them from an aircraft that they suddenly realized had landed silently, some distance away. Let them have it, Franks shouted. Said the Leti. We brought them here so you could begin peace talks. We have no authority to speak for our country, Moss said stiffly. We do not mean diplomatic discussions. There will be no more. The working out of daily problems of existence will teach you how to get along in the same world. It will not be easy, but it will be done. The Russians halted, and they faced each other with raw hostility. I am Colonel Borodoy, and I regret giving up our guns. The senior Russian said, You could have been the first Americans to be killed in almost eight years. Or the first Americans to kill, Franks corrected. No one would know of it except yourselves. The Leti pointed out. It would be useless, Harold was up. Your real concern should be surviving on the surface. We have no food for you, you know. Taylor put his gun in its holster. They've done a neat job of neutralizing us, damned them. I propose we move into a city, start raising crops with the help of some Letis, and generally make ourselves comfortable. Drawing his lips tight over his teeth, he glared at the A-class Leti. Until our families can come up from under surface, it's going to be pretty lonesome, but we'll have to manage. If I may make a suggestion, said another Russian uneasily. We tried living in a city. It is too empty. It is also too hard to maintain for so few people. We finally settled in the most modern village we could find. Here in this country, a third Russian blurted, We have much to learn from you. The Americans abruptly found themselves laughing. You probably have a thing or two to teach us yourselves, said Taylor generously, though I can't imagine what. The Russian colonel grinned. Would you join us in our village? It would make our work easier and give us company. Your village, snapped Franks, it's American, isn't it? It's ours. The Leti stepped between them. When our plans are completed, the term will be interchangeable. Ours will eventually mean mankind's. It pointed at the aircraft, which was warming up. The ship is waiting. Will you join each other in making a new home? The Russians waited while the Americans made up their minds. I see what the Letis mean about diplomacy being outmoded, Franks said at last. People who work together don't need diplomats. They solve their problems on the operational level, instead of at a conference table. The Leti led them toward a ship. It is the goal of history, unifying the world. From family to tribe, to city, state, to nation, to hemisphere. The direction has been toward unification. Now the hemispheres will be joined and... Taylor stopped listening and glanced back at the location of the tube. Mary was under surface there. He hated to leave her, even though he couldn't see her again, until the tube was unsealed. But then he shrugged and followed the others. If this tiny amalgam of former enemies was a good example, it wouldn't be too long before he and Mary and the rest of humanity would be living on the surface like rational human beings, instead of blindly hating moles. It has taken thousands of generations to achieve. The A-Class Leti concluded. Hundreds of centuries of bloodshed and destruction. But each war was a step toward uniting mankind. And now the end is inside a world without war. But even that is only the beginning of a new stage of history. The conquest of space, breathed Colonel Borodoy. The meaning of life lost at it. Eliminating hunger and poverty, said Taylor. The Leti opened the door of the ship. All that and more. How much more? We cannot foresee it any more than the first men who warped a tribe before sea this day. But it will be unimaginably great. Fee, what the devil are you up to? Her husband's voice chopping through her mood of terrified rapture made her heart jump like a startled cat. Yet by some miracle of feminine self-control, her body did not show a tremor. Dear God, she thought. He mustn't see it. It's so beautiful. And he always kills beauty. I'm just looking at the moon, she said listlessly. It's green. Green mustn't, mustn't see it. And now with luck he wouldn't. For the face, as if it also heard and sensed the menace in the voice, was moving back from the window's glow into the outside dark, but slowly, reluctantly, and still fawn-like, pleading, cajoling, tempting, and incredibly beautiful. Close the shutters at once, you little fool, and come away from the window. Green is a beer-bottle, she went on dreamily. Green is emerald, green is leaves with sunshine striking through them, and green grass to lie on. She couldn't help saying those last words. They were her token to the face, even though it couldn't hear. Fee! She knew what that last tone meant. Wearily she swung shut the ponderous lead in her shutters and drove home the heavy bolts. That hurt her fingers, it always did, but he mustn't know that. You know that those shutters are not to be touched, not for five more years at least. I only wanted to look at the moon, she said, turning around, and then it was all gone. The face, the night, the moon, the magic, and she was back in the grubby, stale little hole facing an angry, stale little man. It was then that the eternal thud of the air-conditioning fans and the crackle of the electrostatic precipitators that sieved out the dust reached her consciousness again, like the bite of a dentist's drill. Only wanted to look at the moon, he mimicked her in falsetto, only wanted to die like a little fool and make me that much more ashamed of you. Then his voice went gruff and professional. Here, count yourself. She silently took the digger counter he held at arm's length, waited until it settled down to a steady ticking slower than a clock, due only to cosmic rays and indicating nothing dangerous, and then began to comb her body with the instrument. First her head and shoulders, then out along her arms and back along their underside. There was something oddly voluptuous about her movements, although her features were gray and sagging. The ticking did not change its tempo until she came to her waist. Then it suddenly spurred at clicking faster and faster. Her husband gave an excited grunt, took a quick step forward, froze. She goggled for a moment in fear, then grinned foolishly, dug in the pocket of her grimy apron, and guiltily pulled out a wrist-watch. He grabbed it as it dangled from her fingers, saw that it had a radium dial, cursed. Heaved it up as if to smash it on the floor, but instead put it carefully on the table. You imbecile! You incredible imbecile! He softly chanted to himself through clenched teeth with eyes half closed. She shrugged faintly, put the geiger counter on the table, and stood there, slumped. He waited until the chanting had soothed his anger before speaking again. He said quietly, I do suppose you still realize the sort of world you're living in. She nodded slowly, staring at nothingness. Oh, she realized all right, realized only too well. It was the world that hadn't realized, the world that had gone on stockpiling hydrogen bombs, the world that had put those bombs in cobalt shells, although it had promised it wouldn't, because the cobalt made them much more terrible, and cost no more. The world that had started throwing those bombs, always telling itself that it hadn't thrown enough of them yet to make the air really dangerous with their deadly radioactive dust that came from the cobalt, thrown them, and kept on throwing them until the danger point, where air and ground would become fatal to all human life, was approached. Then for about a month the two great enemy groups had hesitated, and then each unknown to the other had decided it could risk one last gigantic and decisive attack without exceeding the danger point. It had been planned to strip off the cobalt cases, but someone forgot, and then there wasn't time. Besides, the military scientists of each group were confident that the lands of the other had got the most dust. The two attacks came within an hour of each other. After that, the fury. The fury of doomed men who think only of taking with them as many as possible of the enemy, and in this case they hoped all. The fury of suicides who know they have botched up life for good. The fury of cocksure men who realize they have been outsmarted by fate, the enemy, and themselves, and know that they will never be able to improvise a defence when arranged before the High Court of History, and whose unadmitted hope is that there will be no High Court of History left to arrange them. More cobalt bombs were dropped during the fury than in all the preceding years of the war. After the fury, the terror. Men and women with death sifting into their bones through their nostrils and skin, fighting for bare survival under a dust-hazed sky that played fantastic tricks with the light of sun and moon, like the dust from Krakatoa that drifted around the world for years. City's countryside and air were alike poisoned, alive with deadly radiation. The only realistic chance for continued existence was to retire. For the five or ten years the radiation would remain deadly. To some well sealed and radiation shielded place that must also be copiously supplied with food, water, power, and a means of air conditioning. Such places were prepared by the farseeing, seized by the stronger, defended by them in turn against the desperate hordes of the dying, until there were no more of those. After that only the waiting, the enduring, a mole's existence without beauty or tenderness but with fear and guilt as constant companions, never to see the sun, to walk among the trees or even know if there were still trees. Oh yes, she realized what the world was like. You understand, too, I suppose, that we were allowed to reclaim this ground-level apartment only because the committee believed us to be responsible people and because I've been making a damn good showing lately. Yes, Hank. I thought you were eager for privacy. You want to go back to the basement tenements? God no! Anything rather than that fetid huddling, that shameless communal sprawl. And yet was this so much better? The nearness to the surface was meaningless, it only tantalized, and the privacy magnified, Hank. She shook her head dutifully and said, No, Hank. Then why aren't you careful? I've told you a million times, Effie, that glass is no protection against the dust that's outside that window. The lead shutter must never be touched. If you make one single slip like that and it gets around, the committee will send us back to the lower levels without blinking an eye, and they'll think twice before trusting me with any important jobs. I'm sorry, Hank. Sorry. What's the good of being sorry? The only thing that counts is never to make a slip. Why the devil do you do such things, Effie? What drives you to it? She swallowed. It's just that it's so dreadful being cooped up like this, she said hesitatingly. Shut away from the sky and the sun. I'm just hungry for a little beauty. And do you suppose I'm not? He demanded. Don't you suppose I want to get outside too and be carefree and have a good time? But I'm not so damn selfish about it. I want my children to enjoy the sun and my children's children. Don't you see that that's the all-important thing, and that we have to behave like mature adults and make sacrifices for it? Yes, Hank. He surveyed her slumped figure, her lying and listless face. You're a fine one to talk about hunger for beauty, he told her. Then his voice grew softer, more deliberate. You haven't forgotten, have you, Effie, that until last month the committee was so concerned about your sterility, that they were about to enter my name on the list of those waiting to be allotted a free woman, very high on the list, too. She could not even at that one, but not while looking at him. She turned away. She knew very well that the committee was justified in worrying about the birthright. When the community finally moved back to the surface again, each additional healthy young person would be an asset, not only in the struggle for bare survival, but in the resumed war against communism, which some of the committee members still counted on. It was natural that they should view a sterile woman with disfavor, and not only because of the waste of her husband's germplasm, but because sterility might indicate that she had suffered more than the average from radiation. In that case if she did bear children later on, they would be more apt to carry a defective heredity, producing an undue number of monsters and freaks in future generations, and so contaminating the race. Of course she understood it. She could hardly remember the time when she didn't. Years ago? Centuries? There wasn't much difference in a place where time was endless. His lecture finished, her husband smiled, and grew almost cheerful. Now that you're going to have a child that's all in the background again, do you know, Effie, that when I first came in I had some very good news for you? I'm to become a member of the junior committee, and the announcement will be made at the banquet tonight. He cut short her mumbled congratulations. So brighten yourself up and put on your best dress. I want the other juniors to see what a handsome wife the new member has got. He paused. Well, get a move on. She spoke with difficulty, still not looking at him. I'm terribly sorry, Hank, but you'll have to go alone. I'm not well. He straightened up with an indignant jerk. There you go again. First that infantile, inexcusable business of the shutters, and now this. No feeling for my reputation at all. Don't be ridiculous, Effie. You're coming. Terribly sorry, she repeated blindly. But I really can't. I'd just be sick. I wouldn't make you proud of me at all. Of course you won't, he retorted sharply. As it is, I have to spend half my energy running around making excuses for you. Why you're so odd, why you always seem to be ailing, why you're always stupid and snobbish and say the wrong thing. But tonight's really important, Effie. It will cause a lot of bad comment if the new member's wife isn't present. You know how just a hint of sickness starts the old radiation disease room we're going. You've got to come, Effie. She shook her head helplessly. Oh, for heaven's sake, come on! He shouted, advancing on her. This is just a silly mood. As soon as you get going, you'll snap out of it. There's nothing really wrong with you at all. He put his hand on her shoulder to turn her around, and at his touch her face suddenly grew so desperate and gray that for a moment he was alarmed in spite of himself. Really? He asked almost with a note of concern. She nodded miserably. Hmm. He stepped back and strode about irresolutely. Well, of course if that's the way it is. He checked himself in a sad smile crossed his face. So you don't care enough about your old husband's success to make one supreme effort in spite of feeling bad. Again the helpless head shake. I just can't go out tonight under any circumstances. And her gaze stole toward the lead shutters. He was about to say something when he caught the direction of her gaze. His eyebrows jumped. For seconds he stared at her incredulously, as if some completely new and almost unbelievable possibility had popped into his mind. The look of incredulity slowly faded, to be replaced by a harder, more calculating expression. But when he spoke again his voice was shockingly bright and kind. Well, it can't be helped naturally, and I certainly wouldn't want you to go if you weren't able to enjoy it, so you hop right into bed and get a good rest. I'll run over to the men's dorm to freshen up. No, really. I don't want you to have to make any effort at all. Incidentally, Jim Barnes isn't going to be able to come to the banquet either. Touch of the old flu, he tells me, of all things. He watched her closely as he mentioned the other man's name, but she didn't react noticeably. In fact, she hardly seemed to be hearing his chatter. I got a bit sharp with you, I'm afraid, Effie. He continued contritely. I'm sorry about that. I was excited about my new job, and I guess that was why things upset me. It made me feel let down when I found you weren't feeling as good as I was. Selfish of me. Now, you get into bed right away and get well. Don't worry about me a bit. I know you'd come if you possibly could, and I know you'll be thinking about me. Well, I must be off now. He started toward her as if to embrace her, then seemed to think better of it. He turned back at the doorway and said, emphasizing the words, You'll be completely alone for the next four hours. He waited for her nod, then bounced out. She stood still until his footsteps died away. Then she straightened up, walked over to where he'd put down the wristwatch, picked it up and smashed it hard on the floor. The crystal shattered, the case flew apart, and something went zing. She stood there breathing heavily. Slowly her sagged features lifted, formed themselves into the beginning of a smile. She stole another look at the shutters. The smile became more definite. She felt her hair wet her fingers and ran them along her hairline and back over her ears. After wiping her hands on her apron, she took it off. She straightened her dress, lifted her head with a little flourish, and stepped smartly toward the window. Then her face went miserable again, and her steps slowed. No, it couldn't be. And it won't be, she told herself. It had been just an illusion, a silly romantic dream that she had somehow projected out of her beauty-starved mind and given a moment's false reality. There couldn't be anything alive outside. There hadn't been for two whole years. And if there conceivably were, it would be something altogether horrible. She remembered some of the pariahs, hairless, witless creatures, with radiation welts crawling over their bodies like worms, who had come begging for sucker during the last months of the terror, and been shot down. How they must have hated the people and refuges. But even as she was thinking these things, her fingers were caressing the bolts, gingerly drawing them, and she was opening the shutters gently, apprehensively. No, there couldn't be anything outside. She assured herself wryly, peering out into the green night. Even her fears had been groundless. But the face came floating up toward the window. She started back in terror, then checked herself. For the face wasn't horrible at all, only very thin, with full lips and large eyes, and a thin, proud nose like the jutting beak of a bird. And no radiation welts or scars marred the skin, all even the tempered moonlight. It looked, in fact, just as it had when she had seen it the first time. For a long moment the face stared deep, deep into her brain. Then the full lips smiled, and a half-clenched, thin-fingered hand materialized itself from the green darkness, and wrapped twice on the grimy pain. Her heart-pounding, she furiously worked the little crank that opened the window. It came unstuck from the frame with a tiny explosion of dust, and a zing like that of the watch, only louder. A moment later it swung open wide, and a puff of incredibly fresh air caressed her face and the inside of her nostrils, stinging her eyes with unanticipated tears. The man outside balanced on the sill, crouching like a fawn. Head high, one elbow on knee. He was dressed in scarred snug trousers and an old sweater. Is it tears I get for a welcome? He mocked her gently in a musical voice. Are those only to greet God's own breath the air? He swung down inside, and now she could see he was tall. Turning, he snapped his fingers and called Kompus. A black cat with a twisted stump of a tail, and feet like small boxes and gloves, and ears almost as big as rabbits, hopped clumsily in view. He lifted it down, gave it a pat. Then, nodding familiarly to Effie, he unstrapped a little pack from his back and laid it on the table. She couldn't move. She even found it hard to breathe. The window! She finally managed to get out. He looked at her inquiringly, caught the direction of her stabbing finger. Moving without haste, he went over and closed it carelessly. The shutters, too, she told him. But he ignored that, looking around. It's a snug enough place you and your man have, he commented. Or is it that this is a free love-town, or a harem-spot, or just a military boast? He checked her before she could answer. But let's not be talking about such things now. Soon enough I'll be scared to death for both of us. Best enjoy the kick of meeting, which is always good for twenty minutes at the least. He smiled at her rather shyly. Have you food? Go ahead, then bring it. She set cold meat and some precious canned bread before him, and had water heating for coffee. Before he fell to, he shredded a chunk of meat and put it on the floor for the cat, which left off its sniffing inspection of the walls and ran up eagerly, mewing. Then the man began to eat, chewing each mouthful slowly and appreciatively. From across the table Effie watched him, drinking in his every deft movement, his every cryptic quirk of expression. If he attended to making the coffee, but that took only a moment. Finally she could contain herself no longer. What's it like up there? She asked breathlessly. Outside, I mean. He looked at her oddly for quite a space. Finally he said flatly. Oh, it's a wonderland for sure. More amazing than you toomed folk could ever imagine. A veritable fairyland. And he quickly went on eating. No, but really! she pressed. Noting her eagerness he smiled in his eyes filled with playful tenderness. I mean it on my oath, he assured her. You think the bombs and the dust made only death and ugliness. That was true at first. But then, just as the doctors were told, they changed the life and the seeds and loins that were brave enough to stay. Wonders bloomed and walked. He broke off suddenly and asked, Do any of you ever venture outside? A few of the men are allowed to, she told him, for short trips and special protective suits to hunt for canned food and fuels and batteries and things like that. I and those blind sold slugs would never see anything but what they're looking for. He said nodding bitterly. They'd never see the garden where a dozen buds blossom where one did before. And the flowers have petals a yard across, with stingless bees biggest sparrows gently suppin' their nectar. House cats grown spotted in huge as leopards, not little runts like Joe Lewis here, stalk through those gardens. But they're gentle beasts no more harmful than the rainbow-scaled snakes that glide round their paws. For the dust burned all the murder out of them, as it burned itself out. I've even made up a little poem about that. It starts, fire can hurt me, or water, or the weight of earth, but the dust is my friend. Ah, yes, and then the robins like cockatoos and squirrels like a princess's ermine, all under a treasure chest of sun and moon and stars that the dust's magic powder changes from ruby to emerald and sapphire and amethyst and back again. Oh, and then the new children. You're telling the truth? She interrupted him, her eyes brimming with tears. You're not making it up. I am not. He assured her solemnly. And if you could catch a glimpse of one of the new children, you'd never doubt me again. They have long limbs as brown as this coffee would be if it had lots of fresh cream in it and smile on delicate faces and the whitish teeth and the finest hair. They're so nimble that I, a sprightly man and somewhat enlivened by the dust, feel like a cripple beside them, and their thoughts dance like flames and make me feel a very imbecile. Of course they have seven fingers on each hand and eight toes on each foot, but they're the more beautiful for that. They have large pointed ears that the sun shines through. They play in the garden all day long, slipping among the great leaves and blooms, but they're so swift that you can hardly see them unless one chooses to stand still and look at you. For that matter you have to look a bit hard for all these things I'm telling you. But is it true? She pleaded. Every word of it. He said, looking straight into her eyes. He put down his knife and fork. What's your name? He asked softly. Mine's Patrick. Effie. She told him. He shook his head. That can't be. He said. Then his face brightened. Euphemia! He exclaimed, That's what Effie is short for. Your name is Euphemia! As he said that, looking at her, she suddenly felt beautiful. He got up and came around the table and stretched out his hand toward her. Euphemia! He began. Yes. She answered huskily, shrinking from him a little, but looking up sideways and very flushed. Don't either of you move? Hank said. The voice was flat and nasal because Hank was wearing a nose respirator that was just long enough to suggest an elephant's trunk. In his right hand was a large blue-black automatic pistol. They turned their faces to him. Patrick's was abruptly alert, shifty. But Effie's was still smiling tenderly as if Hank could not break the spell of the magic-guard and should be pitied for not knowing about it. You little! Hank began with an almost gleeful fury, calling her several shameful names. He spoke in short phrases, closing tight his unmasked mouth between them while he sucked in breath through the respirator. His voice rose in a crescendo, and not with a man of the community, but a pariah! A pariah! I hardly know what you're thinking, man, but you're quite wrong. Patrick took the opportunity to put in hurriedly, conciliatingly. I just happened to be coming by hungry to-night, alonely drunk, and knocked at the window. Your wife was a bit foolish, and let kind heartedness get the better of prudence. Don't think you've pulled the wool over my eyes, Effie! Hank went on with a screechy laugh, disregarding the other man completely. Don't think I don't know why you're suddenly going to have a child after four long years! At that moment the cat came nosing up to his feet. Patrick watched him narrowly, shifting his weight forward a little, but Hank only kicked the animal aside without taking his eyes off them. Even that business of carrying the wristwatch in your pocket instead of on your arm, he went on with channeled hysteria, a neat bit of camouflage, Effie, very neat, and telling me it was my child when all the time you've been seeing him for months! Man, you're mad I've not touched her! Patrick denied hotly, though still calculatingly, and risked to step forward, stopping when the gun instantly swung his way. Pretending you were going to give me a healthy child, Hank raved on, when all the while you knew it would be, either in body, a germ plasm, a thing like that! He waved his gun at the malformed cat, which had leaped to the top of the table, and was eating the remains of Patrick's food, though its watchful green eyes were fixed on Hank. I could shoot him down! Hank yelled between sobbing, chest-wracking inhalations through the mask. I should kill him! This instant for the contaminated pariah he is! All this while Effie had not seized to smile compassionately. Now she stood up without haste and went to Patrick's side. Disregarding his warning apprehensive glance, she put her arm lightly around him and phased her husband. Then you'd be killing the bringer of the best news we've ever had! She said, and her voice was like a flood of some warm sweet liquor in that musty hate-charged room. Oh, Hank, forget your silly wrong jealousy, and listen to me! Patrick here has something wonderful to tell us. Hank stared at her. For once he screamed no reply. It was obvious that he was seeing for the first time how beautiful she had become, and that the realization jolted him terribly. What do you mean? He finally asked unevenly, almost fearfully. I mean that we no longer need to fear the dust, she said, and now her smile was radiant. It never really did hurt people the way the doctor said it would. Remember how it was with me, Hank? The exposure I had and recovered from, although the doctor said I wouldn't at first, and without even losing my hair. Hank, those who were brave enough to stay outside, and who weren't killed by terror and suggestion and panic, they had dabbed it to the dust. They changed, but they changed for the better. Everything, every, he told you lies! Hank interrupted, but still in that agitated, broken voice, cowed by her beauty. Everything that grew or moved was purified, she went on ringingly. You men going outside have never seen it, because you've never had eyes for it. You've been blinded to beauty, to life itself. And now all the power and the dust has gone, and faded anyway, burnt itself out. That's true, isn't it? She smiled at Patrick for confirmation. His face was strangely veiled, as if he were calculating obscure changes. He might have given a little nod. At any rate, Effie assumed he did, for she turned back to her husband. You see, Hank, we can all go out now. We need never fear the dust again. Patrick is a living proof of that. She continued triumphantly, standing straighter, holding him a little tighter. Look at him, not a scar or a sign, and he's been out in the dust for years. How could he be this way if the dust hurt the brave? Oh, believe me, Hank, believe what you see. Test it if you want. Test Patrick here. Effie, you're all mixed up. You don't know. Hank faltered, but without conviction of any sort. Just test him. Effie repeated with utter confidence, ignoring, not even noticing, Patrick's warning nudge. All right. Hank mumbled. He looked at the stranger dolly. Can you count? He asked. Patrick's face was a complete enigma. Then he suddenly spoke, and his voice was like a fencers foil, light, bright, alert, constantly playing, yet utterly on guard. Can I count? Do you take me for a complete simpleton man? Of course I can count. Then count yourself. Hank said, barely indicating the table. Count myself, should I? The other retorted, with a quick facetious laugh. Is this a kindergarten? But if you want me to, I'm willing. His voice was rapid. I have two arms and two legs, that's four, and ten fingers and ten toes. You'll take my word for them. That's twenty-four. I had twenty-five, and two eyes, and a nose, and a mouth. With this, I mean. Hank said heavily, advanced to the table, picked up the Geiger counter, switched it on, and handed it across the table to the other man. But while it was still in arms length from Patrick, the clicks began to mount furiously, until they were like the chatter of a pygmy machine gun. Abruptly the clicks slowed, but that was only the counter shifting to a new scaling circuit, in which each click stood for five hundred and twelve of the old ones. With those horrid, rattling little volleys, fear cascaded into the room and filled it, smashing like so much coloured glass all the bright barriers of words Effie had raised against it. For no dreams can stand against the Geiger counter, the twentieth century's mouthpiece of ultimate truth. It was as if the dust and all the terrors of the dust had incarnated themselves in one dread, invading shape that said in words stronger than audible speech. Those were illusions, whistles in the dark. This is reality, the dreary pitiless reality of the burrowing years. Hank scuttled back to the wall. Through chattering teeth he babbled, enough radioactive kill a thousand men—freak, a freak! In his agitation he forgot for a moment to inhale through the respirator. Even Effie, taken off guard, all the fears that had been drilled into her twanging like piano wires, shrank from the skeletal seeming shape beside her, held herself to it only by desperation. Patrick did it for her. He disengaged her arm and stepped briskly away. Then he whirled on them, smiling sardonically, and started to speak, but instead looked with distaste at the chattering geiger counter. He held between fingers and thumb. Have we listened to this racket long enough? He asked. Without waiting for an answer he put down the instrument on the table. The cat hurried over to it curiously and the clicks began again to mount in a minor crescendo. Effie lunged for it frantically, switched it off, darted back. That's right! Patrick said with another chilling smile. You do well to cringe for I'm death itself. Even in death I could kill you like a snake. And with that his voice took on the tones of a circus-barker. Yes, I'm a freak as this gentleman so wisely said. That's what one doctor who dared talk with me for a minute told me before he kicked me out. He couldn't tell me why, but somehow the dust doesn't kill me. Because I'm a freak, you see, just like the men who ate nails and walked on fire and ate arsenic and stuck themselves through with pins. Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, only not too close and examine the man the dust can't harm. Rappaccini's child brought up to date. His embrace? Death! And now, he said, breathing heavily, I'll get out and leave you in your damned-led cave. He started towards the window. Hank's gun followed him shakingly. Wait! Effie called in an agonized voice. He obeyed. She continued falteringly. When we were together earlier, you didn't act as if when we were together earlier I wanted what I wanted. He snarled at her. You don't suppose I'm a bloody saint, do you? And all the beautiful things you told me? That, he said cruelly. It's just a line I've found that women fall for. They're all so bored and so starved for beauty, as they generally put it. Even the garden? Her question was barely audible through the sobs that threatened to suffocate her. He looked at her and perhaps his expression softened just a trifle. What's outside, he said flatly. He's just a little worse than either of you can imagine. He tapped his temple. The garden's all here. You killed it, she wept. You killed it in me. You've both killed everything that's beautiful, but you're worse. She screamed at Patrick. Because he only killed beauty once, but you brought it to life just so you could kill it again. You can't stand it. I won't stand it. And she began to scream. Patrick started toward her, but she broke off and whirled away from him to the window, her eyes crazy. You've been lying to us, she cried. The garden's there. I know it is, but you don't want to share it with anyone. No, no, euphemia. Patrick protested anxiously. It's hell out there. Believe me, I wouldn't lie to you about it. Wouldn't lie to me, she mocked. Are you afraid, too? With a sudden pull, she jerked open the window and stood before the blank, green-tinged oblong of darkness that seemed to press into the room like a menacing, heavy, wind-erged curtain. At that, Hank cried out a shocked, pleading, "'Effie!' she ignored him. "'I can't be cooped up here any longer,' she said, and I won't now that I know I'm going to the garden.' Both men sprang at her, but they were too late. She leaped lightly to the sill, and by the time they had flung themselves against it, her footsteps were already hurrying off into the darkness. "'Effie, come back! Come back!' Hank shouted after her desperately, no longer thinking to cringe from the man beside him, or how the gun was pointed. "'I love you, Effie. Come back!' Patrick added his voice. "'Come back, euphemia. You'll be safe if you come back right away. Come back to your home!' No answer to that at all. They both strained their eyes through the greenish murk. They could barely make out a shadowy figure about half a block down the near-black canyon of the dismal dust-blown street into which the greenish moonlight hardly reached. It seemed to them that the figure was scooping something up from the pavement, and letting it sift down along its arms and over its bosom. "'Go out and get her, man!' Patrick urged the other. "'For if I go out for her, I warn you, I won't bring her back.' She said something about having stood the dust better than most, and that's enough for me. But Hank, chained by his painfully learned habits and by something else, could not move. And then a ghostly voice came whispering down the street, chanting, "'Fire can hurt me or water, or the weight of earth. But the dust is my friend!' Patrick spared the other man one more look. Then, without a word, he vaulted up and ran off. Hank stood there. After perhaps a half-minute, he remembered to close his mouth when he inhaled. Finally he was sure the street was empty. As he started to close the window, there was a little mew. He picked up the cat and gently put it outside. Then he did close the window, and the shutters, and bolted them, and took up the Geiger counter, and mechanically began to count himself. End of The Moon is Green by Fritz Leiber, recording by Julie Carter