Tompkins picked up the morning Globe. The war was still going on. Raids on Britain. The blitz was coming. He read the accounts through.
What was this?
"Prominent scientist forecasts doom of earth in two million years. Lee Garth...."
He read the article through. He thought heavily for a few moments. Then he spoke into the box on his desk.
"Get me Sullivan on the phone."
The bell of an invisible alarm clock was ringing in Lee Garth's mind. He turned over, tried to go back to sleep. Sleep was such a wonderful sensation, especially when you were so tired. He wanted to sleep forever, and forever. There wasn't enough time left for him to get rested. Days and yet more days the driving pressure of screaming energy had run through him. It had burned out his muscles, put a flutter in his heart. His whole body screamed for rest. He had to rest. He tried to go back to sleep.
The invisible alarm clock rang again.
Abruptly, Garth rolled over and sat up. Yawning, he flexed his arms. Every nerve ending in his body told him to lie down again, called to him to lie down, begged him. He was going to lie down.