"Why, your fath—Doctor Stone, I mean ..." he stopped in embarrassment. The answer hammered at him suddenly and Don straightened up, the throbbing pain in his leg forgotten.
"The wave should've killed me," he practically shouted. His voice sank down. "Then—then that means I must be one of you."
There was a joyous round of congratulations. Finally Blake raised a hand for silence. "I believe we'd better leave now," he told the others. "After all, our creator"—he chidingly stressed the latter word—"our creator must rest."
The ship sped on, leaving to the future, plans for rebuilding a new Earth and civilization.