Well, naturally I was sorry about it. In fact, I was just standing there, looking at the huddled pile of mush, when the other repair crew arrived. From their scrambled thoughts of death and radio and Main Office, I gathered they were sending for a doctor. Sure enough, he arrived in an autojet with delicious after-burners.
So then they had to send for a team of towing tractors. I just couldn't help thinking about the ignition systems of their vehicles; and to think is to eat, with an e. Or rather, if you have the speed of light—as an e being has—it takes some time before you learn to control your reactions quickly enough.
"Well, I don't know what's going on around here," said a voice which I located as the doctor thinking to himself. "But I remember Professor Bigglesby's advice. When you don't know, nod thoughtfully."
I could see his mush head and its blue haze wobbling solemnly at the other mush-men. I beg your pardon—at the other humans.
"Nervous collapse," the doctor continued in his head. "Something to do with electricity, I suppose. Powerline failure. Broken cable. Dead repair man. Don't know much about electricity. Who does? Hello, hello, what's this?"
I saw him bend his nervous skeleton over Joe's body and straighten up with a string of little silver beads sticking to his hand.
"Makes a noise. Quite musical. Adheres to skin. Light. What is it?"
"There's some more of that stuff in the jeep engine," one of the repair crew noticed.
"And on the doc's jets...."