He came and stood beside her. "I couldn't stand being out in space, or anywhere, without you."
She looked up at him. "We could go out into the wilderness, Michael, outside the force walls. We could go far away."
He turned from her. "It's all dead. What would be the use?"
"I came from the Earth," she said quietly. "And I've got to go back to it. Space is so cold and frightening. Steel walls and blackness and the rockets and the little pinpoints of light. It's a prison."
"But to die out there in the desert, in that dust." Then he paused and looked away from her. "We're crazy—talking as though we had a choice."
"Maybe they'll have to give us a choice."
"What're you talking about?"
"They went into hysterics at the sight of those bodies in the picture. Those young bodies that didn't die of old age."
He waited.
"They can't stand the sight of people dying violently."