Avery reached for his watch, then stopped.
Rothman turned his head. "What's that?"
Nobody moved.
A noise like the roar of a swift freight train rushed into the room, rattling the windows. The walls shook, the floor trembled, the slide-rule slid off the pile of books and clattered to the floor.
They jumped to their feet and Avery ran to the window, clutching at the bars.
"Not yet," said Rothman calmly. "The cactus plant will still be there, casting its little shadow. You might as well sit down and finish the game. That was only the shock wave. Have you forgotten that it is transmitted through the Earth faster than the wave of disintegration? We still have a few minutes left. Isn't anybody going to see my bet?"
Avery lurched to the desk, grabbed a remnant of torn paper and scribbled on it
"I'll see you," he yelled, "and raise you a hundred and twenty-five billion blues!"
MacPherson walked to the window. "Look at the sky. This is it."
They all jammed against his back, trying to see the horizon, waiting. Avery dropped the scrap of paper and covered his eyes.