Return from the Stars

FIVE

I knocked on Olaf’s door.

“If I know you, come on in,” I heard him call.

He stood naked in the middle of the room and was spraying himself, from the flask that he held, with a pale yellow fluid that immediately set to form a fluffy mass.

“Liquid underwear?” I said. “How can you?”

“I didn’t bring a spare shirt,” he muttered. “You don’t care for it?”

“No. You do?”

“My shirt got torn.”

At my look of surprise, he added with a grimace:

“The guy who grinned.”

I did not say another word. He put on his old trousers — I remembered them, from the Prometheus — and we went downstairs. Only three places were set, and no one was in the dining room.

“There will be four of us,” I addressed the white robot.

“No, sir. Mr. Marger has gone. The lady, yourself, and Mr. Staave make three. Shall I serve, or wait for the lady?”

“We’ll wait,” Olaf replied carelessly.

A terrific fellow. Just then, the girl entered. She had on the same skirt as the day before; her hair was a little damp, as if she had come from the water. I introduced Olaf to her; he was calm and dignified. I had never managed to be that dignified.

We talked a little. She said that every week her husband had to go away for three days in connection with his work, and that the water in the pool was not so warm as it could have been, despite the sun. But the conversation quickly died, and, try as I might, I could think of nothing to say. I ate in silence, with their sharply contrasting profiles before me. I noticed that Olaf was studying her, but only when I spoke to her and she looked in my direction. His face was without expression. As if he was thinking the whole time of something else.

Toward the end of the meal, the white robot approached and said that the water in the pool would be heated for the evening, in accordance with Mrs. Marger’s wishes. Mrs. Marger thanked it and went to her room. The two of us were alone. Olaf looked at me, and again I reddened terribly.

“How is it,” he said, putting to his lips the cigarette I had given him, “that a customer who could crawl into that stinking hole on Kereneia, an old space dog — an old rhinoceros, rather, a hundred and fifty — now starts to… ?”

“Please,” I muttered, “if you really want to know, I’d crawl in there again…”

I didn’t finish.

“All right. I’ll stop. Word of honor. But, Hal, I have to say this: I understand you. And I’ll bet you don’t even know why…”

I pointed my head in the direction in which she had gone.

“Why her?”

“Yes. Do you know?”

“No. And neither do you.”

“But I do. Shall I tell you?”

“Yes. But without your jokes.”

“You really have gone crazy!” exclaimed Olaf. “It is very simple. But you always did have that fault — you didn’t see what was under your nose, only what was far removed, those Cantors, Corbasileuses…”

“Don’t preen.”

“The style is sophomoric, I know, but our development was halted when they put those six hundred and eighty screws on us.”

“Go on.”

“She is exactly like a girl from our time. Doesn’t have that red rubbish in her nose or those plates on her ears, and no shining cotton on her head; she doesn’t drip with gold; she’s a girl you could have met in Ceberto or Apprenous. I remember some just like her. That’s all.”

“I’ll be damned,” I said quietly. “Yes. Yes, but there is one difference.”

“Well?”

“I told you already. At the very beginning. I never behaved like this before. And, to be perfectly honest, I never imagined myself… I thought I was the quiet type.”

“Really, it’s a shame I didn’t take your picture when you came out of that hole on Kereneia. Then you could see what a quiet type you are. Man, I thought that you… Never mind!”

“Let’s stow Kereneia, its caves and all of that,” I said. “You know, Olaf, before I came here I went to a doctor, Juffon is his name, a very likable character. Over eighty, but…”

“That is our fate now,” Olaf observed calmly. He exhaled and watched the smoke spread out above a clump of pale purple flowers that resembled hyacinths. He went on: “We feel most at home among the o-o-old folks. With lo-o-ong beards. When I think about it, I could scream. I tell you what. Let’s buy ourselves a chicken coop, we can wring their necks.”

“Come on, enough clowning. This doctor said a number of wise things to me. That we have no family, no friends of our own generation — which leaves only women, but nowadays it is harder to get one woman than many. And he was right. I can see that now.”

“Hal, I know that you are much cleverer than I. You always liked the unprecedented. It had to be damned difficult, something that you couldn’t manage at first, something you couldn’t get without busting a gut three times over. Otherwise it didn’t tickle your fancy. Don’t give me that look. I’m not afraid of you, you know.”

“Praise the Lord. That would make things complete.”

“And so… what was I going to say? Ah. At first I thought that you wanted to be by yourself and that you hit the books because you wanted to be something more than a pilot and the guy who made the engine work. I waited for you to start putting on airs. And I must say that when you floored Normers and Venturi with those observations of yours and, all innocence, entered into those oh-so-highly-learned discussions, well, I thought that you had started. But then there was that explosion, you remember?”

“The one at night.”

“Yes. And Kereneia, and Arcturus, and that moon. My friend, I still see that moon sometimes in my dreams, and once I actually fell out of bed because of it. Oh, that moon! Yes, but what — you see, my mind is going; I keep on forgetting — but then all that happened, and I saw that you were not out to be superior. That that was simply what you liked, and you couldn’t be different. Remember how you asked Venturi for his personal copy of that book, the red one, what was it?”

“The Topology of Hyperspace.”

“Right. And he said, ‘It is too difficult for you, Bregg. You lack the background…’ “

I laughed, because he did Venturi perfectly.

“He was right, Olaf. It was too difficult.”

“Yes, then, but in time you figured it out, didn’t you?”

“I did. But… without any real satisfaction. You know why. Venturi, that poor guy…”

“Not another word. It remains to be seen who should feel sorry for whom — in the light of subsequent events.”

“He cannot feel sorry for anyone now. You were on the upper deck at the time?”

“I? On the upper deck? I was standing right beside you!”

“That’s right. If he hadn’t let it all into the cooling system, he might have got off with a few burns. The way Arne did. He had to go and lose his head.”

“Indeed. No, you’re incredible! Arne died anyway!”

“But five years later. Five years are five years.”

“Years like those?”

“Now you’re talking this way, but before, by the water, when I started to, you jumped down my throat.”

“It was unbearable, yes, but it was magnificent, too. Admit it. You tell me — but, then, you don’t need to talk. When you crawled out of that hole on Ke —”

“Enough, already, about that godforsaken hole!”

“It was only then that I understood what made you tick. We didn’t know each other that well yet. When Gimma told me, a month later, that Arder would be flying with you, I thought — well, I don’t know! I went to him but said nothing. He, of course, knew right away. ‘Olaf,’ he said to me, ‘don’t be angry. You are my best friend, but I’m flying with him this time, not with you, because…’ Do you know what he said?”

“No.” I had a lump in my throat.

“‘Because he alone went down. He alone. No one believed that it was possible to land there. He himself didn’t believe it.’ Well, did you believe that you would come back?”

I was silent.

“You see, you bastard? ‘Either he’ll return with me,’ Arder said, ‘or neither of us will return…’ “

“And I returned without him,” I said.

“And you returned without him. I didn’t recognize you. I was horrified! I was down below, at the pumps.”

“Then that was you?”

“Yes. I saw — a stranger. A complete stranger. I thought I was hallucinating. Even your suit, all red.”

“That was rust. A pipe had burst on me.”

“What, you’re telling me? I’m the one who patched that pipe later. The way you looked… But the clincher, afterward…”

“The thing with Gimma?”

“Yes. It isn’t in the official records. And they cut it out of the tape, the following week; Gimma did it himself, I think. At the time I thought you were going to kill him. Christ.”

“Don’t talk about it,” I said. I felt that in another minute I would start shaking. “Don’t, Olaf. Please.”

“No hysterics. Arder was closer to me than to you.”

“Closer, not closer, what difference does it make? You’re a blockhead. If Gimma had given him a reserve, Arder would be sitting here with us now! Gimma hoarded everything; he was afraid of running out of transistors, but running out of men didn’t bother him! I…”

I broke off.

“Olaf! This is insane. Let’s forget it.”

“Apparently, Hal, we can’t forget it. At least, not so long as we are together. After that Gimma never again…”

“To hell with Gimma! Olaf! The end. Period. I don’t want to hear another word!”

“And am I also forbidden to talk about myself?”

I shrugged. The white robot came to clear the table, but only looked in from the hall and left. Our raised voices must have frightened it off.

“Hal, tell me. What exactly is eating you?”

“Don’t pretend.”

“No, really.”

“How can you ask? After all, it was because of me…”

“What was because of you?”

“The business with Arder.”

“Wha-a-at?”

“Of course. Had I insisted from the first, before we took off, Gimma would have given…”

“Come on now! How were you to know that it was his radio that would go? It could have been something else.”

“Could have been, could have been. But it was the radio.”

“Hold on. And you walked around with this inside you for six years and never said a word?”

“What was there to say? I thought it was obvious; wasn’t it?”

“Obvious! Ye gods! What are you saying, man? Come to your senses! Had you said that, any one of us would have thought you crazy. And when Ennesson’s beam went out of focus, was that your fault, too? Well?”

“No. He… that can happen…”

“I know it can. Don’t worry, I know as much as you. Hal, I won’t have any peace until you tell me…”

“What now?”

“That you are imagining things. This is complete nonsense. Arder himself would tell you so, if he were here.”

“Thanks.”

“Hal, I have a mind to…”

“Remember, I’m heavier.”

“But I am angrier, you understand? Idiot!”

“Olaf, don’t yell. We aren’t alone here.”

“All right. OK. Well, was it nonsense or not?” .

“No.”

Olaf inhaled until his nostrils went white.

“Why not?” he asked almost genially.

“Because, even before that, I had noticed Gimma’s… tight-fistedness. It was my duty to foresee what might happen and confront Gimma immediately — and not when I returned with Arder’s obituary. I was too soft. That is why not.”

“I see. Yes. You were too soft… No! I… Hal! I can’t. I’m leaving.”

He got up from the table abruptly; so did I.

“Are you crazy?” I cried. “He’s leaving! All because…”

“Yes. Yes. Do I have to listen to your fantasies? No, thank you. Arder didn’t reply?”

“Leave it be.”

“He didn’t reply, right?”

“He didn’t reply.”

“Could he have had a corona?”

I was silent.

“Could he have had any of a thousand other kinds of accidents? Or did he enter an echo belt? Did it kill his signal when he lost contact in the turbulence? Or did his emitters demagnetize above a sunspot and… ?”

“Enough.”

“You won’t admit I’m right? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“True. Well, then, could any of the things I said have happened?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you insist that it was the radio, the radio and nothing else, only the radio?”

“You may be right,” I said. I felt terribly tired, I no longer cared.

“You may be right,” I repeated. “The radio… it was simply the most likely thing… No. Don’t say anything else. We’ve already talked about it ten times more than was necessary.”

Olaf walked up to me.

“Bregg,” he said, “you poor old soldier… you have too much good in you, you know that?”

“What good?”

“A sense of responsibility. There should be moderation in everything. What do you intend to do?”

“About what?”

“You know.”

“I have no idea.”

“It’s bad, is it?”

“Couldn’t be worse.”

“How about going away with me? Or somewhere — alone. If you like, I can help you arrange it. I can take your things or you can leave them, or…”

“You think I ought to hightail it?”

“I don’t think anything. But when I see you lose control of yourself, just a little, as you did a moment ago… then…”

“Then?”

“Then I begin to wonder.”

“I don’t want to go away. You know what? I won’t budge from here. And if…”

“What?”

“Never mind. That robot, at the service station, what did it say? When will the car be ready? Was it tomorrow or today? I’ve forgotten.”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Good. Look: it’s getting dark. We’ve chatted away the entire afternoon.”

“God preserve us from such chats!”

“I was joking. Shall we go for a swim?”

“No. I’d like to read. Can you give me something?”

“Take whatever you want. Do you know how to work those grains of glass?”

“Yes. I hope you don’t have that… that reading device with the sugary voice.”

“No, all I have is an opton.”

“Fine. I’ll take it. You’ll be in the pool?”

“Yes. But I’ll go upstairs with you. I have to change.”

I gave him a few books, mostly history, and one thing on the stabilization of population dynamics, since that interested him. And biology, with a long article on betrization. As for me, I started to change but couldn’t find my trunks. I had mislaid them somewhere. No sign of them. I took Olaf’s black trunks, put on my bathrobe, and went outside.

The sun had already set. From the west a bank of clouds was moving in, extinguishing the brighter part of the sky. I threw my robe on the sand, cool now after the heat of the day. I sat down, let my toes dangle in the water. The conversation had disturbed me more than I cared to admit. Arder’s death stuck in me like a splinter. Olaf may have been right. Perhaps it was only the claim of a memory that had never been reconciled…

I got up and made a flat dive, without any spring, head down. The water was warm. I had braced myself for cold and was taken by surprise. I surfaced. Too warm, like swimming in soup. I had just climbed out on the opposite side, leaving dark wet hand marks on the rail, when something pierced me in the heart. The story of Arder had carried me into a different world, but now, possibly because the water was warm — was supposed to be warm — I remembered the girl, and it was as if I had remembered something horrible, a misfortune that I could not overcome, yet had to.

And it may have been only my imagination. I examined the idea uncertainly, hunched over in the growing dusk. I could hardly see my own body, my tan hid me in the darkness. The clouds now filled the sky, and unexpectedly, too soon, it was night. From the house, a whiteness approached. Her bathing cap. Panic seized me. I got up slowly. I intended simply to run away, but she spotted me against the sky.

“Mr. Bregg?” she said in a small voice.

“It’s me. You want to swim? I am in the way. I’m leaving…”

“Why? You are not bothering me. Is the water warm?”

“Yes. For my taste, too warm,” I said. She walked to the edge and jumped in lightly. I saw only her silhouette. Her bathing suit was dark. A splash. She surfaced near my feet.

“Terrible!” she cried, spitting out water. “What has he done? Some cold ought to be let in. Do you know how?”

“No. But I’ll find out in a moment.”

I dived over her head. I swam down, low, until I could touch the bottom, and I began to swim along it, touching the concrete every now and then. Underwater, as is usually the case, it was a little brighter than in the air, so that I was able to locate the inflow pipes. They were in the wall opposite the house. I swam to the surface, somewhat out of breath, since I had been under for a while.

“Bregg!” I heard her voice.

“Here. What’s wrong?”

“I was frightened…” she said, more quietly.

“Of what?”

“You were gone so long.”

“I know where it is now. We’ll have it fixed in no time!” I called out and ran to the house. I could have spared myself the heroic dive; the taps were in full view, on a column near the veranda. I turned on the cold water and returned to the pool.

“It’s done. You’ll have to wait a little.”

“Yes.”

She stood below the springboard, I at the shallow end of the pool, as if I feared to draw near. Then I walked toward her, slowly, as though unintentionally. My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. I was able to make out the features of her face. She regarded the water. Was very pretty in her white cap. And seemed taller without her clothes.

I stood like a post beside her; the situation grew awkward. Perhaps that is why I suddenly sat down. Clod! I berated myself. But I could think of nothing to say. The clouds thickened, it grew darker, but it did not look like rain. Quite cool.

“Are you cold?”

“No. Mr. Bregg?”

“Yes?”

“The water doesn’t seem to be rising…”

“Because I opened the outlet. That ought to be enough. I’ll close it.”

While I was coming back from the house it occurred to me that I could call out to Olaf. I nearly laughed aloud: it was so stupid. I was afraid of her.

I dived in flat and surfaced.

“There. Unless I overdid it — just tell me, I can let in some warm.”

The water was visibly lower now, because the outlet was still open. The girl — I saw her slender shadow against the clouds — seemed to hesitate. Perhaps she no longer wanted to, perhaps she would go back; the thought flashed through me, and I felt a kind of relief. At that moment she jumped, feet first, and gave a faint cry, because the water was quite shallow there now — I hadn’t had time to warn her. She must have hit bottom quite hard; she staggered but did not fall. I hurled myself toward her.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No.”

“It’s my fault. I’m an idiot.”

We were standing in water up to our waists. She began to swim. I climbed out, ran to the house, shut off the outlet, and returned. I did not see her anywhere. I got in quietly and swam the length of the pool, then turned on my back and, moving my arms gently, sank to the bottom. I opened my eyes, saw the delicately rippled dark-glass surface of the water. I drifted upward slowly, began to tread water, and saw her. She was standing on the same side of the pool. I swam over to her. The springboard was at the other end; here it was shallow, I touched bottom immediately. The water, which I pushed aside as I walked, splashed noisily. I saw her face; she was looking at me; whether it was the momentum of my last steps — because if it is difficult to walk in water, it is not easy, either, to come to a sudden stop — or something else, I don’t know, but I found myself beside her. Perhaps nothing would have happened had she withdrawn, but she remained where she was, her hand on the first rung of the ladder, and I was too close now to speak, to take refuge in conversation…

I held her tightly. She was cold, slippery, like a fish, a strange, alien creature, and suddenly in this touch, so cool, lifeless — for she did not move at all — I found a place of heat, her mouth, I kissed her, I kissed and I kissed… It was utter madness. She did not defend herself. Did not resist at all, was as if dead. I held her arms, lifted up her face, I wanted to see her, to look into her eyes, but it was already so dark, I had to imagine them. She did not tremble. There was only throbbing — from my heart or hers, I did not know. We stood like that, until slowly she began to free herself from my arms. I released her immediately. She went up the ladder. I followed her and again embraced her, from the side; she trembled. Now she trembled. I wanted to say something but could not find my voice. I just held her, pressed her to me, and we stood, and she freed herself again — not pushing me away, but as if I were not there at all. My arms dropped. She walked away. In the light that fell from my window I saw her pick up her robe and, without putting it on, start up the stairs. Lights were on at the door and in the hall. Drops of water gleamed on her shoulders and thighs. The door closed. She was gone.

I had — for a second — the urge to throw myself into the water and not come up. No, truly. Never before had such a thing entered my head. What served for a head. It all had been so senseless, impossible, and the worst of it was that I did not know what it meant and what I was supposed to do now. And why had she been that way… so… ? Had she been overwhelmed with fear? Ah, was it always fear, then, nothing but fear? It was something else. What? How could I discover what? Olaf. Then was I a fifteen-year-old kid, to kiss a girl and go running to him for advice?

Yes, I thought I would. I went toward the house, picked up my robe, brushed the sand from it. The hall was brightly lit. I approached her door. Perhaps she would let me in, I thought. If she let me in, I would stop caring about her. Perhaps. And perhaps that would be the end of it. Or I’d get a slap in the face. No. They were good, they were betrizated, they were not able. She would give me a glass of milk; it would do me a world of good. I must have stood there for five minutes — and recalled the caves of Kereneia, the notorious hole Olaf had talked about. That wonderful hole! Probably an old volcano. Arder had got himself wedged between some boulders and could not get out, and the lava was rising. Not lava, actually; Venturi said it was a kind of geyser — but that was later. Arder… We heard his voice. On the radio. I went down and pulled him out. God! I would have preferred that ten times over to this door. Not the slightest sound. Nothing.

If only the door had had a handle. Instead, a plate. Nothing like that on mine upstairs. I did not know whether it functioned somehow as a lock, or whether I should press it; I was still the savage from Kereneia.

I raised a hand and hesitated. And if the door did not open? I pictured my retreat: it would give me something to think about for a long time. And I felt that the longer I stood, the less strength I had, as though everything were oozing out of me. I touched the plate. It did not yield. I pressed harder.

“Is that you, Mr. Bregg?” I heard her voice. She must have been standing on the other side of the door.

“Yes.”

Silence. A half a minute. A minute.

The door opened. She stood in the doorway. Wearing a fluffy housecoat. Her hair fell over the collar. Not until now, incredibly, did I see that it was chestnut.

The door, only ajar. She held it. When I stepped forward, she backed away. By itself, without a sound, the door closed behind me.

An suddenly I realized how this must look. She watched, motionless, pale, holding the edges of her robe together, and there I was, opposite her, dripping, naked, in Olaf’s black trunks, my sandy robe in my hand — gaping…

And at the thought, I broke into a smile. I shook out the robe. Put it on, fastened it, sat down. I noticed two wet marks where I had been standing before. But I had absolutely nothing to say. What could I say? Suddenly it came to me. Like an inspiration.

“You know who I am?”

“I know.”

“Ah, you do? That’s good. From the travel office?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t matter. I am… wild, do you know that?”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Terribly wild. What is your name?”

“You don’t know?”

“Your first name.”

“Eri.”

“I am going to carry you off.”

“What?”

“Yes. Carry you off. You don’t want to be?”

“No.”

“No matter. I am. Do you know why?”

“I guess.”

“You don’t. I don’t.”

She was silent

“Nothing I can do about it,” I went on. “It happened the moment I saw you. The day before yesterday. At the table. Do you know that?”

“I know.”

“But perhaps you think that I am joking?”

“No.”

“How could you… ? No matter. Will you try to escape?”

She was silent.

“Don’t,” I asked. “It would be useless, you know. I would not leave you alone. I would like to, do you believe me?”

She was silent.

“You see, it isn’t just because I am not betrizated. Nothing matters to me, you see. Nothing. Except you. I have to see you. I have to look at you. I have to hear your voice. I have to, and I care about nothing else. Nowhere. I don’t know what will become of us. It will end badly, I suppose. But I don’t care. Because something is worthwhile now. Because I speak and you listen. Do you understand? No. How could you? You have all done away with drama, in order to live quietly. I cannot. I do not need that.”

She was silent. I took a deep breath.

“Eri,” I said, “listen… but sit down.”

She did not move.

“Please. Sit down.”

Nothing.

“It won’t hurt you to sit down.”

Suddenly I understood. I clenched my teeth.

“If you don’t want to, then why did you let me in?”

Nothing.

I got up. I took her by the shoulders. She did not resist. I sat her down in an armchair. I moved mine closer, so that our knees almost touched.

“You can do what you like. But listen. I am not to blame for this. And you most certainly are not. No one is. I did not want this. But that’s how it is. It is, you understand, a beginning. I know that I am behaving like a madman. I know it. But I’ll tell you why. You’re not going to speak to me at all now?”

“It depends,” she said.

“For that much, thank you. Yes. I know. I don’t have any right and so on. Well, what I wanted to say — millions of years ago there were these lizards, brontosaurs, atlantosaurs… Perhaps you have heard of them?”

“Yes.”

“They were giants, the size of a house. They had exceptionally long tails, three times the length of their bodies. Consequently they were unable to move the way they might have wished — lightly and gracefully. I, too, have such a tail. For ten years, for reasons unknown, I poked around among the stars. Perhaps it was not necessary. But never mind. I can’t undo it. That is my tail. You understand? I can’t behave as though it never happened, as though it never was. I don’t imagine that you are thrilled about this. About what I’ve told you and what I’m saying and have yet to say. But I see no help for it. I must have you, have you for as long as possible, and that is that. Will you say something?”

She looked at me. I thought that she turned even paler, but it could have been the lighting. She sat huddled in her fluffy robe as if she were cold. I wanted to ask her if she was cold, but again I was tongue-tied. I — oh, I was not cold.

“What would you… do… in my place?”

“Very good!” I said, encouragingly. “I imagine that I would put up a fight.”

“I cannot.”

“I know. Do you think that that makes it easier for me? I swear to you it doesn’t. Do you want me to leave now, or can I say something else? Why are you looking at me that way? You know by now, surely, that I would do anything for you. Please don’t look at me like that. The things I say, they do not mean the same as when other people say them. And you know what?”

I was terribly out of breath, as if I had been running for a long time. I held both her hands — had been holding them, for how long I did not know, perhaps from the beginning. I did not know. They were so small.

“Eri. You see, I never felt what I am feeling now. At this moment. Think of it. That terrible emptiness, out there. Indescribable. I didn’t believe I would return. No one did. We used to talk about it, but only in that way. They are still there, Tom Arder, Arne, Venturi, and are now like stones, you know, frozen stones, in the darkness. And I, too, should have remained, but if I am here and hold your hands, and can speak to you, and you hear, then perhaps this is not so bad. So base. Perhaps it isn’t, Eri! Only don’t look at me like that. I beg you. Give me a chance. Don’t think that this is — merely love. Don’t think that. It is more. More. You don’t believe me… Why don’t you believe me? I’m telling you the truth. You don’t, do you?”

She was silent. Her hands were like ice.

“You can’t, is that it? It is impossible. Yes, I know it is impossible. I knew from the first moment. I have no business being here. There should be an empty space here. I belong there. It is not my fault that I came back. Yes. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. This doesn’t exist. It doesn’t, does it? If it doesn’t concern you, then it doesn’t matter. None of it You thought that I could do with you as I liked? That isn’t what I wanted, don’t you understand? You are not a star…”

Silence. The whole house was quiet. I bent my head over her hands, which lay limp in mine, and began to speak to them.

“Eri. Eri. Now you know you don’t have to be afraid, right? That nothing threatens you. But this is — so big. Eri. I didn’t know… I swear to you. Why does man fly to the stars? I cannot understand. Because this is here. But maybe you have to go there first, to understand it. Yes, that’s possible. I’ll go now. I’m going. Forget all this. You’ll forget?”

She nodded.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

She shook her head.

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

It was a whisper.

“Thank you.”

I left. Stairs. A cream-colored wall; another, green. The door of my room. I opened the window wide, I breathed in. How good the air was. From the moment I left her, I was completely calm. I even smiled — not with my mouth, not with my face. My smile was inside, pitying, toward my own stupidity, that I had not known, and it was so simple. Bent over, I went through the contents of the sports bag. Among the ropes? No. Some packages, was that it, no, wait a minute…

I had it. I straightened up, and suddenly I was embarrassed.

The lights. I couldn’t, like that. I went to turn them off and found Olaf standing in the doorway. He was dressed. Hadn’t he gone to bed?

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? What do you have there? Don’t hide it!”

“It’s nothing.”

“Show me!”

“No. Go away.”

“Show me!”

“No.”

“I knew it. You bastard!”

I did not expect the blow. My hand opened, dropping it, it clattered on the floor, and then we were fighting, I held him beneath me, he flung me off, the desk toppled, the lamp hit the wall with a crash that shook the house. Now I had him. He couldn’t break away, he only twisted, I heard a cry, her cry, and released him, and jumped back.

She was standing at the door.

Olaf got up on his knees.

“He wanted to kill himself. Because of you!” he croaked. He held his throat. I turned my face away. I leaned against the wall, my legs trembled under me. I was so ashamed, so horribly ashamed. She looked at us, first at one, then at the other. Olaf still held his throat.

“Go, both of you,” I said quietly.

“You’ll have to finish me off first.”

“For pity’s sake.”

“No.”

“Please, go,” she said to him. I stood silent, my mouth open. Olaf looked at her, dumbstruck.

“Girl, he…”

She shook her head.

Keeping his eyes on us, he edged out of the room.

She looked at me.

“Is it true?” she asked.

“Eri…”

“You must?”

I nodded yes. And she shook her head.

“You mean… ?” I said. And again, stammering, “You mean… ?” She was silent. I went to her and saw that she was cringing, that her hands were shaking as she clutched the loose edge of her fluffy robe.

“Why? Why are you so afraid?”

She shook her head.

“No?”

“No.”

“But you are trembling.”

“It’s nothing.”

“And… you’ll go away with me?”

She nodded twice, like a child. I embraced her, as gently as I was able. As if she were made of glass.

“Don’t be afraid…” I said. “Look…”

My own hands shook. Why had they not shaken then, when I slowly turned gray, waiting for Arder? What reserves, what innermost recesses had I reached at last, in order to learn my worth?

“Sit down,” I said. “You are still trembling? But no, wait.”

I put her on my bed, covered her up to the neck.

“Better?”

She nodded, better. Was she mute only with me, or was this her way?

I knelt by the bed.

“Tell me something,” I whispered.

“What?”

“About yourself. Who you are. What you do. What you desire. No — what you desired before I landed on you like a ton of bricks.”

She gave a small shrug, as if saying, “There is nothing to tell.”

“You don’t want to speak? Why, is it that… ?”

“It’s not important,” she said. It was as if she had struck me with those words. I drew back.

“You mean… Eri… you mean…” I stammered. But I understood now. I understood perfectly.

I jumped up and began to pace the room.

“Not that way. I can’t, that way. I can’t. No, I…”

I gaped. Again. Because she was smiling. The smile was so faint, it was barely perceptible.

“Eri, what… ?”

“He is right,” she said.

“Who?”

“That man, your friend.”

“Right about what?”

It was difficult for her to say it. She looked away.

“That you are not wise.”

“How do you know he said that?”

“I heard him.”

“Our conversation? After dinner?”

She nodded. Blushed. Even her ears went pink.

“I could not help hearing. Your voices were awfully loud. I would have gone out, but…”

I understood. The door of her room was in the hallway. What an idiot I had been! I thought. I was stunned.

“You heard everything?”

She nodded.

“And you knew that it was about you?”

“Mhm.”

“But how? Because I never mentioned…”

“I knew before that.”

“How?”

She moved her head.

“I don’t know. I knew. That is, at first I thought I was imagining it.”

“And when, later?”

“I don’t know. Yes, during the day. I felt it.”

“You were afraid?” I asked glumly.

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

She gave a wan smile.

“You are exactly, exactly like…”

“Like what?”

“Like in a fairy tale. I did not know that one could be that way… and if it were not for the fact that… you know… I would have thought it was a dream.”

“It isn’t, I assure you.”

“Oh, I know. I only said it that way. You know what I mean?”

“Not exactly. It seems I am dense, Eri. Yes, Olaf was right. I am a blockhead. An out-and-out blockhead. So speak plainly, won’t you?”

“All right. You think that you are frightening, but you’re not at all. You only…”

She fell silent, as if unable to find the words. I had been listening with my mouth half open.

“Eri, child, I… I didn’t think that I was frightening, no. Nonsense. I assure you. It was only when I arrived, and listened, and learned various things… but enough. I’ve said enough. Too much. I have never in my life been so talkative. Speak, Eri. Speak.” I sat on the bed.

“I have nothing to say, really. Except… I don’t know…”

“What don’t you know?”

“What is going to happen?”

I leaned over her. She looked into my eyes. Her eyelids did not flicker. Our breaths mingled.

“Why did you let me kiss you?”

“I don’t know.”

I touched her cheek with my lips. Her neck. I lay with my head upon her shoulder. Never before had I felt like this. I had not known that I could feel this way. I wanted to weep.

“Eri,” I whispered voicelessly, mouthing the words. “Eri. Save me.”

She lay motionless. I could hear, as if at a great distance, the rapid beating of her heart. I sat up.

“Could…” I began, but hadn’t the courage to finish. I got up, picked up the lamp, set the desk right, and stumbled over something — the penknife. It lay on the floor. I threw it into the suitcase. I turned to her.

“I’ll put out the light,” I said. “OK?”

She did not answer. I touched the switch. The darkness was complete, even in the open window, no lights, not even distant lights, were visible. Nothing. Black. As black as out there.

I closed my eyes. The silence hummed.

“Eri,” I whispered. She did not reply. I sensed her fear. I groped toward the bed. I listened for her breath, but the ringing silence drowned out everything, as if it had materialized in the darkness and now was the darkness. I ought to leave, I thought. Yes. I would leave at once. But I bent forward and with a kind of clairvoyance found her face. She held her breath.

“No,” I murmured, “really…”

I touched her hair. I stroked it with the tips of my fingers; it was still foreign to me, still unexpected. I so wanted to understand all this. But perhaps there was nothing to understand? Such silence. Was Olaf asleep? Surely not. He sat, he listened. Was waiting. Go to him, then? But I couldn’t. This was too improbable, uncertain. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I lay my head on her shoulder. One movement and I was beside her. I felt her entire body stiffen. She shrank away. I whispered:

“Don’t be afraid.”

“No.”

“You are trembling.”

“I’m just…”

I held her. The weight of her head slipped into the crook of my arm. We lay thus, side by side, and there was darkness and silence.

“It’s late,” I whispered, “very late. You can sleep. Please. Go to sleep…”

I rocked her, with only the slow flexing of my arm. She lay quietly, but I felt the warmth of her body and her breath. It was rapid. And her heart was beating like an alarm. Gradually, gradually, it began to subside. She must have been very tired. I listened at first with my eyes open, then shut them, it seemed to me that I could hear better that way. Was she already asleep? Who was she? Why did she mean so much to me? I lay in that darkness; a breeze came through the window, and stirred the curtains, so that they made a soft rustling sound. I was filled, motionless, with amazement. Ennesson. Thomas. Venturi. Arder. What had it all been for? For this? A pinch of dust. There where the wind never blows. Where there are no clouds or sun, or rain, where there is nothing, exactly as if nothing were possible or even imaginable. And I had been there? Really? Why? I no longer knew anything, everything dissolved into the formless darkness — I froze. She twitched. Slowly turned over on her side. But her head remained on my arm. She murmured something, very softly. And went on sleeping. I tried hard to picture the chromosphere of Arcturus. A seething vastness, above which I flew and flew, as if revolving on a monstrous, invisible carousel of fire, with tearing, swollen eyes, and repeated in a lifeless voice: Probe, zero, seven — probe, zero, seven — probe, zero, seven — a thousand times, so that afterward, at the very thought of those words, something in me shuddered, as if I had been branded with them, as if they were a wound; and the reply was a crackling in the earphones, and the giggling-squawking into which my receiver translated the flames of the prominence, and that was Arder, his face, his body, and the rocket, turned to incandescent gas… And Thomas? Thomas was lost, and no one knew that he… And Ennesson? We never got along — I couldn’t stand him. But in the pressure chamber I struggled with Olaf, who did not want to let me go because it was too late. How all-fired noble of me. But it was not nobility, it was simply a matter of price. Yes. Because each one of us was priceless, human life had the highest value where is could have none, where such a thin, practically nonexistent film separated it from annihilation. That wire or contact in Arder’s radio. That weld in Venturi’s reactor, which Voss failed to detect — but perhaps it opened suddenly, that did happen, after all, fatigue in metal — and Venturi ceased to exist in maybe five seconds. And Thurber’s return? And the miraculous rescue of Olaf, who got lost when his directional antenna was punctured — when, how? No one knew. Olaf came back, by a miracle. Yes, one-in-a-million odds. And I had luck. Extraordinary, impossible luck. My arm ached, a wonderful ache. Eri, I said in my mind, Eri. Like the song of a bird. Such a name. The song of a bird… We used to ask Ennesson to do bird calls. He could do them. How he could do them, and when he perished, along with him went all those birds…

But things grew confused, I sank, I swam through the darkness. Right before I fell asleep it seemed to me that I was there, at my place, in my bunk, deep down, at the iron bottom, and near me lay little Arne — I awoke for a moment. No. Arne was not alive, I was on Earth. The girl breathed quietly.

“Bless you, Eri,” I said, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, and slept.

I opened my eyes, not knowing where or even who I was. The dark hair flowing across my arm — the arm had no feeling, as if it were a foreign thing — astonished me. This, for a fraction of a second. Then I realized everything. The sun had not yet risen; the dawn — milk-white, without a trace of pink, clean, the air sharp — stood at the windows. In this earliest light I studied her face, as if seeing it for the first time. Sound asleep, she breathed with her lips tightly closed; she must not have been very comfortable on my arm, because she had placed a hand beneath her head, and now and then, gently, her eyebrows moved, as if in continual surprise. The movement was slight, but I watched intently, as if upon that face my fate were written.

I thought of Olaf. With extreme care I began to free my arm. The care turned out to be unnecessary. She was in a deep sleep, dreaming of something. I stopped, tried to guess, not the dream, but only whether or not it was bad. Her face was almost childlike. The dream was not bad. I disengaged myself, stood up. I was in the bathrobe I had been wearing when I lay down. Barefoot, I went out into the corridor, closed the door quietly, very slowly, and with the same caution looked into his room. The bed was untouched. He sat at the table, his head on his arms, and slept. Hadn’t undressed, as I’d thought. I don’t know what woke him up — my gaze? He started, gave me a sharp look, straightened, and began to stretch.

“Olaf,” I said, “in a hundred years I…”

“Shut your mouth,” he suggested kindly. “Hal, you always did have unhealthy tendencies.”

“Are you beginning already? I only wanted to say…”

“I know what you wanted to say. I always know what you’re going to say, a week in advance. Had there been a need for a chaplain on board the Prometheus, you would have filled the bill. A damned shame I didn’t see that before. I would have knocked it out of you. Hal! No sermons. No solemnities, swearing, oaths, and the like. How is it? Good, yes?”

“I don’t know. I suppose. I don’t know. If you mean… well, nothing happened.”

“No, first you should kneel,” he said. “You must speak from a kneeling position. You dunce, did I ask you about that? I am talking about your prospects and so on.”

“I don’t know. And I don’t think she does, either. I landed on her like a ton of bricks.”

“Yes. It’s a problem,” Olaf observed. He undressed, looked for his trunks. “What do you weigh? A hundred and ten kilos?”

“Something like that. If you’re looking for your trunks, I have them.”

“For all your holiness, you always liked to pinch things,” he mumbled, and when I started to pull them off, “Idiot, leave them on. I have another pair in the suitcase…”

“How do divorces work? Do you happen to know?” I asked.

Olaf looked at me over the open suitcase. He winked.

“No, I do not. And how would I? I have heard that it’s as easy as sneezing. And you don’t even have to say Gesundheit. Is there a decent bathroom here, with water?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. There’s only the kind — you know.”

“Yes. The invigorating wind with the smell of mouthwash. An abomination. Let’s go to the pool. Without water, I don’t feel washed. She’s asleep?”

“Asleep.”

“Then let’s blast off.”

The water was cold, superb. I did a half gainer with a twist: a good one. My first. I surfaced, snorting and choking, I had water in my nose.

“Watch out,” shouted Olaf from the side of the pool, “you’ll have to be careful now. Remember Markel?”

“Yes. Why?”

“He had gone to the four ammoniated moons of Jupiter. When he returned and set down on the training field, and got out of the rocket, laden with trophies like a Christmas tree, he tripped and broke his leg. So watch out. I’m telling you.”

“I’ll try. Damned cold, this water. I’m coming out.”

“Quite right. You could catch a cold. I didn’t have one for ten years. The moment I landed on Luna I started coughing.”

“Because it was so dry there,” I said with a serious expression. Olaf laughed and splashed water in my face, jumping in a meter away.

“Dry, exactly,” he said, surfacing. “A good way to put it. Dry, but not too cozy.”

“Ole, I’m going.”

“OK. We’ll see each other at breakfast? Or would you prefer not to?”

“Of course we will.”

I ran upstairs, drying myself on the way. At the door I held my breath. I peered in carefully. She was still sleeping. I took advantage of this and quickly changed. I had time to shave, too, in the bathroom.

I stuck my head into the room — I thought that she had said something. When I approached the bed on tiptoe, she opened her eyes.

“Did I sleep here?”

“Yes. Yes, Eri.”

“I had the feeling that someone…”

“Yes, Eri, I was here.”

She stared at me, as though gradually it was all coming back to her. First, her eyes widened a little — with surprise? — then she closed them, opened them again, then furtively, very quickly, though even so I noticed, she looked under the blanket — and her face turned pink.

I cleared my throat.

“You probably want to go to your own room, right? Perhaps I should leave, or…”

“No,” she said. “I have my robe.”

She pulled it tightly around herself, sat up on the bed.

“So… it’s real, then?” she said quietly, as if parting with something.

I was silent.

She got up, walked across the room, came back.

She lifted her eyes to my face; in them was a question, uncertainty, and something else that I could not define.

“Mr. Bregg…”

“My name is Hal. My first name.”

“Mr… Hal, I…”

“Yes?”

“I really don’t know… I would like… Seon…”

“What?”

“Well… he…”

She could not or did not wish to say “my husband.” Which?

“He will be back the day after tomorrow.”

“And?”

“What is going to happen?”

I swallowed.

“Should I have a talk with him?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

Now it was my turn to look at her with surprise, not understanding.

“Yesterday you said…”

I waited.

“That you… would take me away.”

“Yes “

“And he?”

“Then I shouldn’t talk to him?” I asked, feeling stupid.

“Talk? You want to do it yourself?”

“Who else?”

“It has to be… the end?”

Something was choking me; I cleared my throat.

“Really, there’s no other way.”

“I thought it would be… a mesk.”

“A what?”

“You don’t know?”

“I understand nothing. No. I don’t know. What is that?” I said, feeling an ominous chill. Again I had hit upon one of those sudden blanks, a mire of misunderstanding.

“It is like this. A man… a woman… if someone meets a person… if he wants, for a certain period of time… You really know nothing about this?”

“Wait, Eri. I don’t know, but I think I’m beginning to. Is it something provisional, a kind of temporary suspension, an episode?”

“No,” she said, and her eyes grew round. “You don’t know what it is… I don’t exactly know how it works myself,” she admitted. “I’ve only heard about it. I thought that that was why you…”

“Eri, I’m completely in the dark. Damned if I understand any of this. Does it have… ? In any case, it is connected in some way with marriage, right?”

“Well, yes. You go to an office, and there, I’m not exactly sure, but anyway, after that it’s… it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“Independent. So that nothing can be said. No one. Including him…”

“So it is, after all… it is a kind of legalization — well, hell! — a legalization of infidelity?”

“No. Yes. That is, it is not infidelity then — no one speaks of it like that. I know what that means; I learned about it. There is no infidelity because, well, because after all Seon and I are only for a year.”

“Wha-a-at?” I said, because I thought that I was not hearing correctly. “And what does that mean, for a year? Marriage for a year? For one year? Why?”

“It is a trial.”

“Ye gods and little fishes! A trial. And what is a mesk? A notification for the following year?”

“I don’t know what you mean. It is… it means that if the couple separates after a year, well, then the other arrangement becomes binding. Like a wedding.”

“The mesk?”

“Yes.”

“And if not, then what?”

“Then nothing. It has no significance.”

“Aha, I think I see now. No. No mesk. Till death do us part. You know what that means?”

“I do. Mr. Bregg?”

“Yes.”

“I’m completing my graduate studies in archeology this year…”

“I understand. You’re letting me know that by taking you for an idiot I’m only making an idiot of myself.”

She smiled.

“You put it too strongly.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Well, Eri, may I talk to him?”

“About what?”

My jaw fell. Here we go again, I thought.

“Well, what do you, for Christ’s…” I bit my tongue. “About us.”

“But that just isn’t done.”

“It isn’t? Ah. Well, all right. And what is done?”

“One goes through the separation procedure. But, Mr. Bregg, really… I… can’t do it this way.”

“And in what way can you?”

She gave a helpless shrug.

“Does this mean we are back where we began yesterday evening?” I asked. “Don’t be angry with me, Eri, for speaking like this, I am doubly handicapped, you see. I’m not familiar with all the formalities, customs, with what should be done and what shouldn’t, even on a daily basis, so when it comes to things like…”

“No, I know. I know. But he and I… I… Seon…”

“I understand,” I said. “Look here. Let’s sit down.”

“I think better when I stand.”

“Please. Listen, Eri. I know what I should do. I should take you, as I said, and go away somewhere — and I don’t know how I have this certainty. Perhaps it only comes from my boundless stupidity. But it seems to me that eventually you could be happy with me. Yes. At the same time I — observe — am the type who… well, in a word, I don’t want to do that. To force you. Thus the whole responsibility for my decision — let’s call it that — falls on you. In other words, to make me be a swine not from the right side, but only from the left. Yes. I see that clearly. Very clearly. So now tell me just one thing — what do you prefer?”

“The right.”

“What?”

“The right side of the swine.”

I began to laugh. Perhaps a little hysterically.

“My God. Yes. Good. Then I can talk to him? Afterward. That is, I would come back here alone…”

“No.”

“It isn’t done like that? Perhaps not, but I feel I ought to, Eri.”

“No. I… please, please. Really. No!”

Suddenly tears fell from her eyes. I put my arms around her.

“Eri! No. It’s no, then. I’ll do whatever you want, but don’t cry. I beg you. Because… don’t cry. Stop, all right? But then… cry if you… I don’t…”

“I didn’t know that it could be… so…” she sobbed.

I carried her around the room.

“Don’t cry, Eri… You know what? We will go away for… a month. How about that? Then later, if you want, you can return.”

“Please,” she said, “please.”

I put her down.

“Not like that? I don’t know anything. I thought…”

“Oh, the way you are! Should do, shouldn’t do. I don’t want this! I don’t!”

“The right side grows larger all the time,” I said with an unexpected coldness. “Very well, then, Eri. I won’t consult you any more. Get dressed. We’ll eat breakfast and go.”

She looked at me with her tear-streaked face. Was strangely intent. Frowned. I had the impression that she wanted to say something and that it would not be flattering to me. But she only sighed and went out without a word. I sat at the table. This sudden decision of mine — like something out of a romance about pirates — had been a thing of the moment. In fact I was as resolute as a weather vane. I felt like a heel. How could I? How could I? I asked myself. Oh, what a mess!

In the half-open doorway stood Olaf.

“Old man,” he said, “I am very sorry. It is the height of indiscretion, but I heard. Couldn’t help hearing. You should close your door, and besides, you have such a healthy voice. Hal — you surpass yourself. What do you want from the girl, that she should throw herself into your arms because once you went down into that hole on… ?”

“Olaf!” I snarled.

“Only calm can save us. So the archeologist has found a nice site. A hundred and sixty years, that’s already antiquity, isn’t it?”

“Your sense of humor…”

“Doesn’t appeal to you. I know. Nor does it to me. But where would I be, old man, if I couldn’t see through you? At your funeral, that’s where. Hal, Hal…”

“I know my name.”

“What is it you want? Come, Chaplain, fall in. Let’s eat and take off.”

“I don’t even know where to go.”

“By chance, I do. Along the shore there are still some small cabins to rent. You two take the car…”

“What do you mean — you take the car… ?”

“What else? You prefer the Holy Trinity? Chaplain…”

“Olaf, if you don’t stop it…”

“All right. I know. You’d like to make everybody happy: me, her, that Seol or Seon — no, it won’t work. Hal, we’ll leave together. You can drop me off at Houl. I’ll take an ulder from there.”

“Well,” I said, “a nice vacation I’m giving you!”

“I’m not complaining, so don’t you. Perhaps something will come of it. But enough for now. Come on.”

Breakfast took place in a strange atmosphere. Olaf spoke more than usual, but into the air. Eri and I hardly said a word. Afterward, the white robot brought the gleeder, and Olaf took it to Clavestra to get the car. The idea came to him at the last minute. An hour later the car was in the garden, I loaded it with my belongings, Eri also brought her things — not all her things, it seemed to me, but I didn’t ask; we did not, in fact, converse at all. And so, on a sunny day that grew very hot, we drove first to Houl — a little out of our way — and Olaf got out there; it was only in the car that he told me he had rented a cottage for us.

There was no farewell as such.

“Listen,” I said, “if I let you know… you’ll come?”

“Sure. I’ll send you my address.”

“Write to the post office at Houl,” I said.

He gave me his firm hand. How many hands like that were left on Earth? I held it so hard that my fingers cracked, then, not looking back, I got behind the wheel. We drove for less than an hour. Olaf had told me where to find the little house. It was small — four rooms, no pool — but at the beach, right on the sea. Passing rows of brightly colored cottages scattered across the hills, we saw the ocean from the road. Even before it appeared, we heard its muffled, distant thunder.

From time to time I glanced at Eri. She was silent, stiff, only rarely did she look out at the changing landscape. The house — our house — was supposed to be blue, with an orange roof. Touching my lips with my tongue, I could taste salt. The road turned and ran parallel to the sandy shoreline. The ocean, its waves seemingly motionless because of the distance, joined its voice to the roar of the straining engine.

The cottage was one of the last along the road. A tiny garden, its bushes gray from the salt spray, bore the traces of a recent storm. The waves must have come right up to the low fence: here and there lay empty shells. The slanting roof jutted out in front, like the fancifully folded brim of a flat hat, and gave a great deal of shade. Behind a large, grassy dune the neighboring cottage could be seen, some six hundred paces away. Below, on the half-moon beach, were the tiny shapes of people.

I opened the car door.

“Eri.”

She got out without a word. If only I knew what was going on behind that furrowed forehead. She walked beside me to the door.

“No, not like that,” I said. “You’re not supposed to walk across the threshold.”

“Why?”

I lifted her up.

“Open…” I asked her. She touched the plate with her fingers and the door opened.

I carried her in and put her down.

“It’s a custom. For luck.”

She went first to look at the rooms. The kitchen was in the rear, automatic and with one robot, not really a robot, only an electrical imbecile to do the housework. It could set the table. It carried out instructions but spoke only a few words.

“Eri,” I said, “would you like to go to the beach?”

She shook her head. We were standing in the middle of the largest room, white and gold.

“Then what would you like, maybe…”

Before I could finish, again the same movement.

I could see now what was in store. But the die was cast and the game had to be played out.

“I’ll bring our things,” I said. I waited for her to reply, but she sat on a chair as green as grass and I realized that she would not speak. That first day was terrible. Eri did nothing obvious, did not go out of her way to avoid me, and after lunch she even tried to study a little — I asked her then if I could stay in her room, to look at her. Promising that I would not utter a word and would not disturb her. But after fifteen minutes (how quick of me!) I realized that my presence was a tremendous burden to her; the line of her back betrayed this, her small, cautious movements, their hidden effort; so, covered with sweat, I beat a hasty retreat and began to pace back and forth in my own room. I did not know her yet. I could see, however, that the girl was not stupid, far from stupid. Which, in the present situation, was both good and bad. Good, because even if she did not understand, she could at least guess what I was and would not see in me some barbarous monster or wild man. Bad, because in that case the advice that Olaf had given me at the last moment was worthless. He had quoted to me an aphorism that I knew, from Hon: “If the woman is to be like fire, then the man must be like ice.” In other words, he felt that my only chance was at night, not during the day. I did not want this, and for that reason had been wearing myself out, but I understood that in the short time I had I could not hope to get through to her with words, that anything I said would remain on the outside — for in no way would it weaken her rectitude, her well-justified anger, which had shown itself only once, in a short outburst, when she began to shout, “I don’t! I don’t!” And the fact that she had then controlled herself so quickly I also took to be a bad sign.

In the evening she began to be afraid. I tried to keep low, step softly, like Voov, that small pilot who managed — the perfect man of few words — to say and do everything he wanted without speaking.

After dinner — she ate nothing, which alarmed me — I felt anger growing inside me; at times I almost hated her for my own torment, and the great injustice of this feeling only served to intensify it.

Our first real night together: when she fell asleep in my arms, still all hot, and her ragged breath began, in single, ever-weaker sighs, to pass into oblivion, I was certain that I had won. Throughout she had struggled, not with me but with her own body, which I came to know, the delicate nails, the slender fingers, the palms, the feet, whose every part and curve I unlocked and brought to life, as it were, with my kisses, my breath, stealing my way into her — against her — with infinite patience and slowness, so that the transitions were imperceptible, and whenever I felt a growing resistance, like death, I would retreat, would begin to whisper to her mad, senseless, childish words, and again I would be silent and only caress her, and I besieged her with my touch, for hours, and felt her open and her stiffness give way to the trembling of a last defense, and then she trembled differently, conquered now, but still I waited and, saying nothing, for this was beyond words, drew from the darkness her slender arms, and breasts, the left breast, for there beat the heart, faster and faster, and her breath grew more violent, more desperate, despairing, and the thing took place; this was not even pleasure, but the mercy of annihilation and dissolving, a storming of the last wall of our bodies, so that in violence they could be one for a few seconds, our battling breaths, our fervor passed into mindlessness, she cried out once, weakly, in the high voice of a child, and clutched me. And then her hands slid away from me, furtively, as if in great shame and sadness, as if suddenly she understood how horribly I had tricked her. And I began everything again, the kisses placed in the bends of the fingers, the mute appeals, the whole tender and cruel progression. And everything was repeated, as in a hot black dream, and at one point I felt her hand, buried in my hair, press my face to her naked shoulder with a strength I had not expected in her. And later, exhausted, breathing rapidly, as if to expel from herself the accumulated heat and sudden fear, she fell asleep. And I lay motionless, like one dead, taut, trying to figure out whether what had happened meant everything or nothing. Just before I fell asleep it seemed to me that we were saved, and only then came peace, a great peace, as great as that on Kereneia, when I lay on the hot sheets of cracked lava with Arder, whose mouth I could see breathing behind the glass of his suit although he was unconscious, and I knew that it had not been in vain, yet I hadn’t the strength then even to open the valve of his reserve cylinder; I lay paralyzed, with the feeling that the greatest thing of my life was behind me now and that if I were to die right there, nothing would change, and my immobility was like the unutterable silence of triumph.

But in the morning everything began again. In the early hours she was still ashamed, or perhaps it was contempt, I do not know whether it was directed at me or whether it was herself she despised for what had taken place. Around lunchtime I succeeded in persuading her to take a short drive. We rode along the huge beaches, with the Pacific stretched before us in the sun, a roaring colossus furrowed by crescents of white-and-gold foam, filled to the horizon with the tiny colored sheets of sailboats. I stopped the car where the beaches ended, ended in an unexpected wall of rock. The road made a sharp turn here, and, standing a meter from the edge, one could look straight down upon the violent surf. We returned for lunch. It was as on the previous day, and everything in me cringed at the thought of the night, because I did not want it. Not like that. When I was not looking at her, I felt her eyes on me. I was puzzled by her renewed frowns, her sudden stares, and then — how or why I do not know — just before dinner, as we sat at the table, suddenly, as though someone had opened my skull with a single blow, I understood everything. I wanted to punch myself in the head — what a self-centered fool I had been, what a self-deceiving bastard — I sat, stunned, motionless, a storm within me, beads of sweat on my forehead. I felt extremely weak.

“What is the matter?” she asked.

“Eri,” I croaked, “I… only now. I swear! Only now do I understand, only now, that you went with me because you were afraid, afraid that I… yes?”

Her eyes widened with surprise, she looked at me carefully, as if suspecting a trick, a joke.

She nodded.

I jumped up.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To Clavestra. Pack your things. We’ll be there” — I looked at my watch — “in three hours.”

She stood without moving.

“You mean it?” she said.

“Eri, I didn’t know. Yes, it sounds unbelievable. But there are limits. Yes, there are limits. Eri, it is still not clear to me how I could have done such a thing — because I blinded myself, I guess. Well, I don’t know, it doesn’t matter, it has no importance now.”

She packed — so quickly… Everything inside me broke and crumbled, but on the surface I was perfectly, almost perfectly, calm. When she sat down beside me in the car, she said:

“Hal, forgive me.”

“For what? Ah!” I understand. “You thought that I knew?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Let’s not talk about it any more.”

And again I drove at a hundred; houses flashed by, purple, white, sapphire, the road twisted and turned, I increased our speed, the traffic was heavy, then let up, the cottages lost their colors, the sky became a dark blue, the stars appeared, and we sped along in the whistling wind.

The surrounding countryside grew gray, the hills lost their volume, became outlines, rows of dark humps, the road stood out against the dusk as a wide, phosphorescent band. I recognized the first houses of Clavestra, the familiar turn, the hedges. At the entrance I stopped the car, carried her things into the garden, to the veranda.

“I don’t want to go inside. You understand.”

“I understand.”

I did not say good-bye to her, but simply turned away. She touched my arm; I flinched as if I had been struck.

“Hal, thank you.”

“Don’t say anything. Just don’t say anything.”

I fled. I jumped into the car, took off; the roar of the engine saved me for a while. It was laughable. Obviously she had been afraid that I would kill him. After all, she had seen me try to kill Olaf, who was as innocent as a lamb, simply because he had not let me — and anyway! Anyway, nothing. There in the car I howled, I could permit myself anything, being alone, and the engine covered my madness — and again I do not know at what point it was that I realized what I had to do. And once more, as the first time, peace came. Not the same. Because the fact that I had taken advantage of the situation so terribly and had forced her to go with me, and that everything had taken place on account of that — it was worse than anything I could have imagined, because it robbed me even of my memories, of that night, of everything. Alone, with my own hands, I had destroyed all, through a boundless egoism, a lie that had not let me see what was at the very surface, the most obvious thing. Yes, she told the truth when she said that she did not fear me. She did not fear for herself. For him.

Lights flew by, flowed, moved slowly to the rear, the landscape was indescribably beautiful, and I — torn, pierced — hurtled, tires squealing, from one turn to the next, toward the Pacific, toward the cliff there; at one point, when the car veered more sharply than I expected and went off the edge of the road with its right wheels, I panicked for a fraction of a second, then burst into crazy laughter — that I was afraid to die here, having decided to do it in another place — and the laughter turned suddenly into sobbing. I must do it quickly, I thought, I’m no longer myself. What’s happening to me is worse than terrible, it’s disgusting. And I also told myself that I ought to be ashamed. But the words had no weight or meaning. It had got completely dark, the road practically deserted, because few drove at night, when I noticed, not far behind me, a black gleeder. It went lightly and without effort in the places where I had had to employ all my skill with brake and accelerator. Because gleeders hold the road with magnetic forces, or gravitational, God knows. The point is that it could have passed me with no difficulty, but it kept to the rear, some eighty meters behind me, sometimes a little closer, sometimes farther back. On sharp bends, when I skidded across the road and cut from the left, it kept its distance, though I did not believe that it could not keep up with me. Perhaps the driver was afraid. But, then, there would be no driver. Anyway, what did the gleeder matter to me?

It mattered, because I felt that it did not hang back by chance. And suddenly came the thought that it was Olaf, that Olaf, who didn’t trust me in the least (and rightly!), had stayed in the vicinity and was waiting to see how things turned out. Yes, there was my deliverer, good old Olaf, who once again would not let me do what I wanted, who would be my big brother, my comforter; and at that thought something took hold of me, and for a second I could not see the road through my red fury.

Why don’t they leave me alone? I thought, and began to squeeze every last shred out of the machine, every possibility, as if I did not know that the gleeder could go at twice the speed.

Thus we raced through the night, among the hills with scattered lights, and above the shrill whistling of the wind I could hear now the roar of the invisible, spreading, immense Pacific, as though the sound rose from bottomless depths.

Drive, then, I thought. Drive. You don’t know what I know. You spy on me, trail me, won’t leave me be, fine; but I’ll fool you, I’ll give you the slip before you know what’s happened; and no matter what you do it won’t help, because a gleeder can’t go off the road. So that even at the last second I’ll have a clear conscience. Excellent.

I went by the cottage where we had stayed; its three lit windows stabbed me as I passed, as if to prove to me that there is no suffering that cannot be made still greater, and I began the last stretch of road, parallel to the ocean. Then the gleeder, to my horror, suddenly increased its speed and began to overtake me. I blocked its way brutally, veering to the left. It fell back, and thus we maneuvered — whenever it tried to pass me I blocked the left lane with the car, maybe five times altogether. Suddenly, though I was barring the way, it began to pull in front of me; the body of my car practically brushed the glistening black hull of that windowless, seemingly unoccupied projectile. I was certain, then, that it could only be Olaf, because no other man would have attempted such a thing — but I could not kill Olaf. I could not. Therefore I let him by. He got in front of me, and I thought that now he would in turn try to cut me off, but instead he stayed some fifteen meters ahead. Well, I thought, that’s all right. And I slowed down, in the small hope that he might increase the distance between us, but he did not; he, too, slowed down. It was about two kilometers to that last turn at the cliff when the gleeder slowed down even more and kept to the center, so that I could not pass it. I thought I might be able to do it now, but there was no cliff yet, only sandy beach, the car’s wheels would sink in the sand after a hundred meters, I wouldn’t even make it to the ocean — it would be idiotic. I had no choice, I had to drive on. The gleeder slowed down still more and I saw that it would stop soon; the rear of its black body glowed, as though splashed with burning blood, from the brake lights. I tried to slip around it with a sudden swerve, but it blocked my way. He was faster and more agile than I — but, then, a machine was driving the gleeder. A machine always has faster reflexes. I slammed on the brakes, too late, there was a terrible crash, a black mass loomed up before the windshield, I was thrown forward and lost consciousness.

I opened my eyes, awakened from a dream, a senseless dream — I dreamed that I was swimming. Something cold and wet ran down my face, I felt hands, they shook me, and I heard a voice.

“Olaf,” I mumbled. “Why, Olaf? Why… ?”

“Hal!”

I roused myself; I propped myself up on one elbow and saw her face over me, close, and when I sat up, too stunned to think, she slumped slowly onto my knees, her shoulders heaving — and still I did not believe it. My head was huge, as if filled with cotton.

“Eri,” I said; my lips were curiously large, heavy, and somehow very remote.

“Eri, it’s you. Or am I only…”

And suddenly strength came to me, I caught her by the arms, lifted her, got to my feet, and staggered with her; we both fell on the still warm, soft sand. I kissed her wet, salty face and wept — it was the first time in my life — and she wept. We said nothing for a long time; gradually we began to be afraid — of what, I can’t say — and she looked at me with lunatic eyes.

“Eri,” I repeated. “Eri… Eri…”

That was all I knew. I lay down on the sand, suddenly weak, and she grew alarmed, tried to pull me up, but hadn’t the strength.

“No, Eri,” I whispered. “No, I’m all right, it’s only this…”

“Hal. Say something! Say something!”

“What should I say… Eri…”

My voice calmed her a little. She ran off somewhere and returned with a flat pan, again poured water on my face — bitter, the water of the Pacific. I had intended to drink much more of it, flashed a thought, senseless; I blinked. I came to. Sat up and touched my head.

There was not even a cut; my hair had cushioned the impact, so I had only a lump the size of an orange, a few abrasions, still I a ringing in my ears, but I was all right. At least, as long as I sat. I tried to stand up, but my legs didn’t seem cooperative.

She knelt in front of me, watching, her arms at her sides.

“It’s you? Really?” I asked. Only now did I understand; I turned and saw, through the nauseating vertigo brought on by that movement, two tangled black shapes in the moonlight, a dozen or so meters away at the edge of the road. My voice failed j me when I returned my eyes to her.

“Hal…”

“Yes.”

“Try to get up. I’ll help you.”

“Get up?”

Apparently my head was still not clear. I understood what had happened, and I didn’t understand. Had that been Eri in the gleeder? Impossible.

“Where is Olaf?” I asked.

“Olaf? I don’t know.”

“You mean he wasn’t here?”

“No.”

“You alone?”

She nodded.

And suddenly an awful, inhuman fear gripped me.

“How were you able? How?”

Her face trembled, her lips quivered, she couldn’t say the words.

“I ha-a-ad to…”

Again she wept. Then quieted, grew calm. Touched my face. My forehead. With light fingers felt my skull. I repeated breathlessly:

“Eri… it’s you?”

Raving. Later, slowly, I stood up, she supported me as best she could; we walked to the road. Only there did I see what shape the car was in; the hood, the entire front, everything was folded like an accordion. The gleeder, on the other hand, was hardly damaged — now I appreciated its superiority — only a small dent in the side, where it had taken the main impact. Eri helped me get in, backed away the gleeder until the wreck of my car fell over on its side with a long clattering of metal, then took off. We were going back. I was silent, the lights swam by. My head wobbled, still large and heavy. We got out in front of the cottage. The windows were still lit up, as if we had left only for a moment. She helped me inside. I lay down on the bed. She went to the table, walked around it, walked to the door. I sat up:

“You’re leaving!”

She ran to me, knelt by the side of the bed, and shook her head in denial.

“No?”

“No.”

“And you’ll never leave me?”

“Never.”

I embraced her. She put her cheek to my face, and everything was drained from me — the burning embers of my obstinacy and anger, the madness of the last few hours, the fear, the despair; I lay there empty, like one dead, and only pressed her to me more tightly, as if my strength had returned, and there was silence, the light gleamed on the golden wallpaper of the room, and somewhere far away, as in another world, outside the open windows, the Pacific roared.

It may seem strange, but we said nothing that evening, or that night. Not a single word. Not until late the following day did I learn how it had been. As soon as I had driven off, she’d guessed the reason and panicked, didn’t know what to do. First she thought to summon the white robot, but realized that it could not help; and he — she referred to him in no other way — he could not help, either. Olaf, perhaps. Olaf, certainly, but she did not know where to find him, and anyway there wasn’t time. So she took the house gleeder and drove after me. She quickly caught up with me, then kept behind me for as long as there was a chance that I was only returning to the cottage.

204

“Would you have got out then?” I asked. She hesitated.

“I don’t know. I think I would have. I think so now, but I don’t know.”

Then, when she saw that I did not stop but kept driving, she got even more frightened. The rest I knew.

“No. I don’t understand it,” I said. “This is the part I don’t understand. How were you able to do it?”

“I told myself that… that nothing would happen.”

“You knew what I wanted to do? And where?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

After a long pause:

“I don’t know. Perhaps because by now I know you a little.”

I was silent. I still had many things to ask but didn’t dare. We stood by the window. With my eyes closed, feeling the great open space of the ocean, I said:

“All right, Eri, but what now? What is going to happen?”

“I told you already.”

“But I don’t want it this way,” I whispered.

“It can’t be any other way,” she replied after a long pause. “Besides…”

“Besides?”

“Never mind.”

That very day, in the evening, things got worse, again. Our trouble returned and progressed, and then retreated. Why? I do not know. She probably did not know, either. As if it was only in the face of extremity that we became close, and only then that we were able to understand each other. And a night. And another day.

On the fourth day I heard her talking on the telephone and was terribly afraid. She cried afterward. But at dinner was smiling again.

And this was the end and the beginning. Because the following week we went to Maë, the main city of the district, and in an office there, before a man dressed in white, we said the words that made us man and wife. That same day I sent a telegram to Olaf. The next day I went to the post office, but there was nothing from him. I thought that perhaps he had moved, and hence the delay. To tell the truth, even then, at the post office, I felt a twinge of anxiety, because this silence was not like Olaf, but what with all that had happened, I thought about it only for a moment and said nothing to her. As if it were forgotten.