"When you're rested—" he let Walt and Julia go through the door in front of him—"when you're rested, we'll want to see both of you again. You said something, Julia, about making us all like you were: with all those unusual abilities?"
"Later. Please, later. I'm just too tired to think." She held onto Walt's arm possessively.
But do, she wondered, do I remember enough details to enable a surgeon to install a bridge?
A welter of other thoughts and impressions seethed to the surface of her leaden brain: The international situation ... if nothing changes ... for the last few years, there is an equilibrium ... working for genuine peace.... War is farther off every year.... But to interfere? When people can still be convinced of so many, so many falsehoods? Patterns of hatred (like of superstition), are they (aren't they: who can say? would the bridge not join but divide, upset the equilibrium?) are the patterns of hatred too deep, and too dangerous, and too entrenched in our generation?
She was tired; but out of the exhaustion, the weariness, the fatigue, she suddenly realized with startling clarity, like the chime of a great, flawless bell, ringing hope and promise: That it will come; the next development of man will come, lies waiting in the future (near or far) to be born, to be born: will come. When mankind is ready, it will come: will come.
A wave of exultation filled her. Oh, be ready soon! she cried. Be ready soon!
"I, I don't think I can, can be of any help on that, General," she said.
"After you get some rest—"
"No," she said. Did she remember enough to guide a surgeon? "No, I'm afraid I've forgotten too thoroughly."