Is was lying still, Bill's strong fingers rubbing her absently behind the fluffy ears. Something churned abruptly in Bill's stomach.
Resurrection. Turn back the universe, and give me yesterday.... He paled. Atom bombs, space fleets bristling with men for slaughter and weapons for slaughtering. Poverty. Misery. Kids in tenements without lawns.
"What do you mean by resurrection, Voice?" The question came from the very bottom of Bill. "Would the old universe come back? Our planet Earth? The other planets?"
"Yes, yes! I would arrange it. A matrix sheeted four-dimensionally about the universe—which is myself. A matrix through which all re-created motion would pass. Your Earth would be remade—"
"With all human emotions," said Bill casually.
"Exactly! You shall aid in resurrecting the universe. I have had your answer!" Delirious joy flamed through the Voice's being. "Now I shall tell you how the marvellous occurrence can be brought about!"
Molly was looking at Bill with tears in her eyes.
"Don't you want it, Bill?" she whispered. "The way it was? Some of it was beautiful."
"Some of it," said Bill grimly. "You—and Is—and Was—are the only beautiful things I ever got out of it. But let him talk."