"Home Plate Home Plate Home Plate—"
He had been around fifty times; he had counted. It had taken one hundred hours; he had counted. He had transmitted steadily since the twentieth time, in the few languages he knew beside his own, for sixty hours; he had counted.
He had only a whisper for a voice now, and only aching places where his ears were.
But it didn't matter. It didn't matter.
"Home Plate, this Mrs. Grundy—
"Can anyone read me? Does anyone read me down there?
"Kann jedermann mich hören? Antworten-Sie, bitte....
"Repondez, repondez si vous m'entendrez....
"Damn you can't you hear me CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?"