"There's never been any law or moral credo that human beings couldn't break and justify within themselves some way," Julie intoned carefully. "People can do the same with the induced precepts of the Broadcasters. If you really want to stop them, you can—by killing Joel and going ahead."
"Maybe later," Danniels mumbled. "I'll think about it."
Julie slapped his face. He wondered why he didn't feel it.
"You don't have much time left," Julie whispered. "Don't you know what's wrong with your foot? Gangrene. You have to get those toes amputated soon or you'll die."
"Yes," he said numbly. "Must get amputation." But it didn't seem urgent. He felt he should get some rest first.
"It's too bad you can't allow the operation," the girl said sweetly. "You can't allow lives to be destroyed just to save your own personality."
"What lives?" he demanded.
"All the cells and microorganisms in your toes," Julie told him. "You know they'll die if you are operated on. Are they any worse than the little bacteria you refused to murder? I suppose it's just as well that you die. How can you stand it on your conscience to breathe all the time and burn up innocent germs in your foul breath?"
Danniels understood. To live was to kill.
Every instant he lived his old cells were dying and new ones being born. So Danniels, who thought he could not kill any living thing, finally accepted himself as a killer. It wasn't human life he was taking ... but it was life.