Then the door knob turned, and the door swung silently open. Stiffly, Sydney turned his head to the door. There was time, they saw to that. There was time to see the two masked men with guns in their hands. And behind them was the T.V. camera, registering the scene that was duplicated on his own screen. There was even time to turn to Ellie; to see the look of cheated disappointment in her eyes change to astonishment as the bullet cut cleanly into her open mouth. And then there was no more time for Sydney Mercer either, who had reached the age of sixty plus and therefore was past his usefulness. Another bullet stopped his intake of breath.
The camera moved in for a close up of the two men; their lips, beneath the masks, smiling and guileless. Then the camera hovered for a few moments over the ludicrously postured bodies on the couch for a fade out.
"Manhunt" was over for the night. The announcer's voice and figure gradually took over the expanse of the screen.
"Tonight's program has been sponsored, as a Public Service," the oily voice intoned, "by the National Casket Company, with offices in all principal cities.
"Remember your duty as a citizen.
"All you oldsters, between the ages of "sixty and Annihilation Day"—you may be among the ones who don't have to wait until your sixty-fifth birthday—and you others who are nearing the twilight years—be sure you have your burial arrangements taken care of. Do it tonight—at the very latest, tomorrow. For the next day may be too late.
"The management, the staff, and the actors want to extend their respects to the wonderful old couple who played their parts in tonight's real life drama.
"Goodnight all!"