"They get tired," she said. "That's all. They just get tired. That's what breaks down the cells and makes them die."
They looked at one another, back at her. "We know all of you girls are exhausted. It can't be helped. We have to work on. We need time. Just a little while longer."
She tried again, explaining over and over, trying to make them understand why people die, and why they might remain young longer if things were different. They shook their heads. Finally she flared, "Send it on to the Upper Council as I've explained it."
That brought an inkling of a smile. "That's the spirit," they agreed. "We can never lose while we have that spirit."
They agreed to send her idea, however worthless, up the line.
Early in the fall Alfred was up and able to come to the factory dining hall. He hadn't got his new arm yet, but his leg worked fine and he seemed to have no trouble at all with his breathing. His hair was iron gray, but he was still handsome, his features unwrinkled. He wore two ribbons, was shown deference by high ranking officers, and at times went away on mysterious errands.
Three men came while he was away and handed her a paper. It read merely: "Presence required at Nether Polaris."
She asked questions, but the men shook their heads, seemed impatient, urged her to hurry.
She went with them in a groundcar to a blackened plain. Memories rushed back and brought terror, but they paid no attention, led her to an atmosphere craft. They flew high above the clouds for hours, and when they came down and broke into the clear she could see nothing but endless reaches of gleaming white. The positions of the stars told her she was somewhere near the North Pole.