The picture had shown some buildings close to the cliffs on one side that looked like the apartment houses in Town. They broke through the brush and found one.
Other than for dust it was in good condition. The food bins were filled, but the contents had dried to the hardness of stone. As soon as they were emptied they began to refill; but it was two days of constant emptying before eatable fruit began to appear.
By the end of a week they had the rooms they needed cleaned and some of the brush about the place cut clear.
It left Henry free to roam the plant. He sat again and again through the record of construction, understanding a little more each time. He noted, for instance, where what was now forest at the entrance to the valley was once farmland, laid out in squarish, varicolored fields. He found his way into the control room, discovered how to trace the lines from the board to their end on the large map on the wall across from the board.
One day, while it was snowing heavily above the permanent defrosters, he heard a buzzer sound and saw a light turn from green to red. He traced it down. It was the damaged house where they had first taken refuge.
There was plenty of time to ponder. Each time it ended in the same question and the same conclusion. Something had to be begun before it was too late. The valley had to be stirred out of its antipathy.
But how?
One morning, before dawn, he sat up in bed. Theta asked what was wrong.
"I'm going to the meeting in Town at Peach Blossom Time," he announced. "Something has to be done."
Theta clutched his arm. "You can't! They'll kill you!"