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“None.”

“Another expedition? To Andromeda perhaps? With you the leader?”

Michael shook his head. “We’re finished with expeditions, Mr. President.”

There were mutterings in the council, and hastily whispered consultations. Now they were watching the man and woman again.

“We feel,” said the President, “it would be dangerous to allow you to go out among the people. They’ve been informed that your statement wasn’t entirely true. This was necessary, to avoid a panic. The people simply must not know the whole truth.” He paused. “Now we ask you to keep in mind that whatever we decide about the two of you will be for the good of the people.”

Michael and Mary were silent.

“You’ll wait outside the council chambers,” the President went on, “until we have reached our decision.”

As the man and woman were led away, the pumps beat in the stillness, and at the edge of the shrinking seas the salt thick waters were being pulled into the distilleries, and from them into the tier upon tier of artificial gardens that sat like giant bee hives all around the shoreline; and the mounds of salt glistening in the sunlight behind the gardens were growing into mountains.

In their rooms, Michael and Mary were talking through the hours, and waiting. All around them were fragile, form-fitting chairs and translucent walls and a ceiling that, holding the light of the sun when they had first seen it, was now filled with moonlight.

Standing at a circular window, ten feet in diameter, Michael saw, far below, the lights of the city extending into the darkness along the shoreline of the sea.

“We should have delivered our message by radio,” he said, “and gone back into space.”

“You could probably still go,” she said quietly.

He came and stood beside her. “I couldn’t stand being out in space, or anywhere, without you.”

She looked up at him. “We could go out into the wilderness, Michael, outside the force walls. We could go far away.”

He turned from her. “It’s all dead. What would be the use?”

“I came from the Earth,” she said quietly. “And I’ve got to go back to it. Space is so cold and frightening. Steel walls and blackness and the rockets and the little pinpoints of light. It’s a prison.”

“But to die out there in the desert, in that dust.” Then he paused and looked away from her. “We’re crazy—talking as though we had a choice.”

“Maybe they’ll have to give us a choice.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“They went into hysterics at the sight of those bodies in the picture. Those young bodies that didn’t die of old age.”

He waited.

“They can’t stand the sight of people dying violently.”

Her hand went to her throat and touched the tiny locket.

“These lockets were given to us so we’d have a choice between suffering or quick painless death…. We still have a choice.”

He touched the locket at his own throat and was very still for a long moment. “So we threaten to kill ourselves, before their eyes. What would it do to them?”

He was still for a long time. “Sometimes, Mary, I think I don’t know you at all.” A pause. “And so now you and I are back where we started. Which’ll it be, space or Earth?”

“Michael.” Her voice trembled. “I—I don’t know how to say this.”

He waited, frowning, watching her intently.

“I’m—going to have a child.”

His face went blank.

Then he stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. He saw the softness there in her face; saw her eyes bright as though the sun were shining in them; saw a flush in her cheeks, as though she had been running. And suddenly his throat was full.

“No,” he said thickly. “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true.”

He held her for a long time, then he turned his eyes aside.

“Yes, I can see it is.”

“I—I can’t put into words why I let it happen, Michael.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know—what to—to say. It’s so incredible.”

“Maybe—I got so—tired—just seeing the two of us over and over again and the culturing of the scar tissue, for twenty centuries. Maybe that was it. It was just—something I felt I had to do. Some—real life again. Something new. I felt a need to produce something out of myself. It all started way out in space, while we were getting close to the solar system. I began to wonder if we’d ever get out of the ship alive or if we’d ever see a sunset again or a dawn or the night or morning like we’d seen on Earth—so—so long ago. And then I had to let it happen. It was a vague and strange thing. There was something forcing me. But at the same time I wanted it, too. I seemed to be willing it, seemed to be feeling it was a necessary thing.” She paused, frowning. “I didn’t stop to think—it would be like this.”

“Such a thing,” he said, smiling grimly, “hasn’t happened on Earth for three thousand years. I can remember in school, reading in the history books, how the whole Earth was overcrowded and how the food and water had to be rationed and then how the laws were passed forbidding birth and after that how the people died and there weren’t any more babies born, until at last there was plenty of what the Earth had to give, for everyone. And then the news was broken to everyone about the culturing of the scar tissue, and there were a few dissenters but they were soon conditioned out of their dissension and the population was stabilized.” He paused. “After all this past history, I don’t think the council could endure what you’ve done.”

“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t think they could.”

“And so this will be just for us.” He took her in his arms. “If I remember rightly, this is a traditional action.” A pause. “Now I’ll go with you out onto the Earth—if we can swing it. When we get outside the city, or if we do—Well, we’ll see.”

They were very still together and then he turned and stood by the window and looked down upon the city and she came and stood beside him.

They both saw it at the same time. And they watched, without speaking, both knowing what was in the other’s mind and heart. They watched the giant four dimensional screens all through the city. A green, lush planet showed bright and clear on them and there were ships standing among the trees and men walking through the grass, that moved gently like the swells on a calm ocean, while into their minds came the thoughts projected from the screen:

“This will be your new home. It was found and then lost. But another expedition will be sent out to find it again. Be of good hope. Everything will be all right.”

Michael turned from the window. “So there’s our evidence. Two thousand years. All the others killed getting it. And with a simple twist, it becomes a lie.”

Mary sat down and buried her face in her hands.

“What a terrible failure there’s been here,” said Michael. “The neglect and destruction of a whole planet. It’s like a family letting their home decay all around them, and living in smaller and smaller rooms of it, until at last the rooms are all gone, and since they can’t find another home, they all die in the ruins of the last room.”

“I can’t face dying,” Mary said quietly, “squeezed in with all these people, in this tomb they’ve made around the seas. I want to have the open sky and the quiet away from those awful pounding pumps when I die. I want the spread of the Earth all around and the clean air. I want to be a real part of the Earth again.”