He tried to reason it out, but only could remember that Nita, already sickly, would have no chance. And Alcala's family genes, in attempting to adapt to the previous steps, had become almost sterile. It had been difficult having children. The next step would mean complete sterility. The name of Alcala would die. The future might be wonderful, but it would not be his future!
"Johnny!" he called suddenly, something like an icy lump hardening in his chest. How long had it been since Johnny had left?
Running, Alcala went down the long half-lit stairs, out the back door and along the dark path toward the place where Johnny's 'copter had been parked.
A light shone through the leaves. It was still there.
"Johnny!"
John Osborne Drake was putting his suitcase into the rear of the 'copter.
"What is it, Ric?" he asked in a friendly voice without turning.
It would be impossible to ask him to change his mind. Alcala found a rock, raised it behind Syndrome Johnny's back. "I know I'm being anti-social," he said regretfully, and then threw the rock away.
His fist was enough like stone to crush a skull.