Bob stared. "The Peltior Dark," Fator explained, "is as visible now as the so-called—Oh yes, the Milky Way was in your century. We are going to strike it in three hundred and twenty nine years."
"We charted the dark regions with the iconoscope," Bob put in eagerly. "Till then, our astronomers, working with glass scopes, had only a vague idea."
"Still," Fator told him, "our speed toward the first of these abysmal regions accelerated in the last two centuries. Our sun first will expand, then contract. Now you see what we are preparing for."
Bob smiled. "But we'll be gone sir, before this happens."
Fator's smile was enigmatic. "Perhaps—not. For some of us. I trust you are reconciled, Winslow. You cannot go back. Otherwise, you are as free as any resident of Taval. You must remain inside the dome, unless it is directed otherwise. Our sun is two degrees colder today, and ice covers the northern hemisphere outside. You could not escape, but I hardly have to warn you. There are plenty of matters to interest you in our midst. You are that type. As for your companion—"
"Kenley's a sensible chap," Bob cut in. "True, he lives for sports. But he is an excellent auditor—I mean," he floundered, "good at calculation and all that."
"We have machines for that, in our cities," Fator replied. And the way he said it, made Bob feel a tiny cold shudder.
Fator closed the interview with the word that he—Bob Winslow, would be answerable to the Senior of Taval's ruling Three. He further said that Vasper would continue as his instructor for the present. Then, with a nod, he turned back to his cylinder. It was whirring as Bob and Vasper stepped into the screen.
They emerged within the sports arena again, and Bob noted Jim, watching the games. Then he thought of Fator's cylinder. "That?" Vasper replied in answer to a question. "He was dictating. We use a system—phonetic. The fingers of both hands control Taval rays and thereby, the phonetic words. Fator is writing a story of Taval, or rather, bringing the history up to date, with a plan for his successor to carry on. That is," Vasper added, "if he doesn't carry on himself."
"What do you mean?" Bob demanded. "You haven't discovered immortality!"