An announcer spoke in a dryly excited voice.
Herb sat down, and when at length one starship lumbered into the center of the triangle and its beam struck out, weariness and futility possessed him. They were planting the atomic seed. Within an hour there would be no hope of reprieve. There was none now; and yet it seemed, doom was not irreversible until this last act was accomplished and the seed in place.
Herb spun the selector. He did not want to witness the climactic moment.
What was the name of Norma's hotel?
He remembered.
He went to the telephone....
When Norma arrived in answer to the call, she found an unshaven Herb nervously pacing the floor.
"Where have you been?" she asked breathlessly.
He seated himself on the bed and wrinkled the coverlet in his hands, working with it furiously.