Amco finally managed to say, "No reason, logically. Why go on living without an ultimate goal?" His voice bore a note of resignation, but his eyes hinted at the anxiety he felt.
"That, then, is our problem," enthused the Coordinator. "Is a worthy cause for continued Dhomastrial life determinable? If not, I'll envelop Dhoma in the vibratory blasts that destroyed the invaders of 9400." He paused, then added, thoughtfully, "Perhaps that will be the logical end of it."
Amco revealed what had occurred to him when the Coordinator first mentioned the crisis. He said: "The space-time converter. That is an answer. We could go into the plegarthic time flow called the future and find out."
The Coordinator nodded. "I can think of no other way. Even if it is unsatisfactory. Though it's been proven that the space-time converter operates satisfactorily no rationale has ever been reached as to how it functions. The converter is illogical."
Amco nodded, too. "It is that. Perhaps it's been wise, restricting the converter. But I see no other way."
"You agree then to make the attempt, Amco? You are the only one I could trust. I know of no one else who still retains adequate sense of responsibility."
"Of course," Amco was saying, his heart pounding abnormally, and his face flushed.
"Thank you, Amco. I put the future of Dhoma in your hands then. Any questions?"
"One," said Amco. "What if my findings are negative? You are definitely determined to destroy all Dhomastrial life?"