"I am dying!"
The hideous accusation blasted out at him.
"As you would have had me die!"
"No, no! Devil Star, you have done a terrible thing. You—do not yet know—how terrible. Terrible—for you."
"I had choice!" he cried bitterly.
Silence. Then, from a distance, muttering: "Choice. No. There could have been no—choice. It began—how long ago? Before you were born, Devil Star. Back to—the beginning. No thought but caused a thought. No motion but caused a motion. How—else could it be?
"Devil Star!" That muttering, distant voice held blind despair. "Your only immortality—truly, your only happiness—lay in that child you and I—would have created...."
Her voice stopped. In hideous fascination, Devil Star watched that expansive greyness sweeping across her. Then, convulsively, he thrust out his para-propellents, sped across the galaxies, not stopping, frantically seeking forgetfulness.
For a million years Devil Star continued that senseless pace. Finally, deep into the bottomless darkness that cupped the lenticular universe, he stopped. And there was ultimate horror in him. The memory was not sheared off. He could not outrun himself. He was cursed.