I have no time for the mind-stuff. I guard myself against it and ignore it. There are other things on my mind. Shall I go back if we ever escape from the sparkling fog? I don't know. I don't want to go back. I want to go on and on forever just like this. But the others cannot go on like this. It would be murder. I don't know.—I don't know.
I must keep awake. I use drugs. I must not sleep—not sleep.
We have cleared the fog. The instruments are working again. Again the stars glow. What shall I do. Melody....
ennedy looked up from his reading. "As I said,"—and he spoke severely—"you break off at an abrupt point. You did not complete the log."
Holloway's red eyes were glazed. "I had other things to do. I was tired of keeping a log."
Mason sought to draw Kennedy off his quarry. "There's an odd point," he said, looking at Holloway. "Only animals were recreated. Do you think the mind stuff was capable only of recreating animals?"
Holloway spoke in an exhausted monotone. "It took the clearest image from the strongest minds. Murdo thought mainly of hunting. He pondered on his more spectacular kills. Thus the mind-stuff used his images."
"I see."