As we whirled from the yard, we passed the bent figure of Joseph walking unhurriedly toward a liner which was loading for the Venus run.
My heart cried out, even through my terror, my sickness:
Joseph, Joseph.... So you too are still alive; and still seeking forgiveness. I had thought I was the last.
But you are by far the better off of we two, Joseph. For at least you have been free to wander while I have stayed on this one hated spot since all those centuries ago when we fled from Calypso and the wrath of the people who had loved the boy so. As though we hadn't loved him ourselves, Joseph.
Yes, you are the better off, you can seek throughout the stars for forgiveness. Then, too, your mind is forever dulled with your madness, while mine is horribly aware, always, of what we've been through and of the centuries ahead; it is only blurred when the space cafard comes.
Joseph, Joseph ... you didn't even recognize your brother Micheal, nor I you, when we met.