"We'll be all right," Endicott said. "We have food capsules—"
"Sure, Chief."
"We'll be all right, except—" Endicott peered through the rents in the hull into the storm outside. "All we have to do is sit tight," he added hastily.
"We'll freeze tonight without heat." Allison's voice was still breathless with panic.
"Yeah. Yeah, I've been thinking about that. There's some thing 'way down deep in my mind—something I can't quite get—" Endicott still looked out at the storm-thrashed trees, a puzzled expression wrinkling his face. "Something from my childhood—I was born a long time before you, you know, before they set up state conditioning homes for children. Long before they set up this 'everything-from-buttons' business. Lived with my own people, I did, and I seem to remember—seem to remember—" The puzzled expression became a frown of concentration. "Or maybe it was something I read a long time ago," he mused.
"Did what?" Allison perked up.
"Read. You wouldn't know what that was. Everything comes from buttons now, entertainment, food, light, heat—everything.... No, it was from my childhood, I'm sure. I remember my people used to take me out in the country—" Endicott mused on while a cloak of snow grew on the shoulders of his jacket, and the light began to fade.
"Out in the country? What for? Nobody goes out there." Allison's eyes gleamed slightly in the growing dusk.
"—for picnics. And—" Endicott's eyes brightened, and one hand clenched.
"For what?" Allison's head thrust forward.