Words were no good; there was no explaining things in words. Naturally he couldn't make Gala or anyone else understand, for flesh couldn't grasp the realities of mind and spirit that were liberated from flesh. Babies! A home! And the whole grubby animal business of eating and drinking and sleeping! How could anyone ask to stay in the mire when the stars challenged overhead?
He walked slowly down the street, alone in the night, an apprentice godling renouncing mortality. There was nothing here for him, so why this sense of loss?
Duty said (or was it Pride?): "Someone must give up the flesh to control Earth's orbit and weather—why not you?"
Flesh said (or was it his soul—whatever that was?): "But you will be alone."
He stopped, and for a moment he was poised between destiny and the dust....
Until he became aware of footsteps behind him, running, and Gala's voice: "Wait! Wait, Glenn! I want to go with you!"
And he turned and waited, but only until she caught up, and then he went on.
But not—forever and always again—not alone.