“The windmill — Lee fixed it up for us last winter.”
“What about the windmill?”
“The boy fixed it, he was a mighty smart kid — knew his way around with electricity and machinery. He hooked a generator up to the windmill somehow. I don't know how he did it — if it ever goes out of whack, that'll be the end of it. Lee was a good kid. It plays all right as long as the wind holds out. Kinda fades away, sometimes.”
“A radio!” Gary was fascinated with it. “Well I'll be damned — a radio right here in the house with me and I never knew it worked.” He went over to it, caressed the cabinet with his fingers and let his nails flick the glass of the dial. “I want to play it.”
“Help yourself,” Hoffman returned. “Kinda keep it down though, will you? The wife's a light sleeper.”
“What? Oh, sure, sure.” The cabinet felt hot under his hand. “Sure.”
Hoffman turned away. “Good night.”
Gary was too entranced with the set to answer. The farmer left, carrying with him the only kerosene lamp and the room was plunged into darkness. Sandy's voice was audible for a few seconds and then the bedroom door slammed, cutting off her words and the last stray gleam of the light.
Impatiently, Gary flung back the blackout curtains at the windows, letting in the faint light of the clouded moon and reflected snow. He never used a light. The night outside was cold and quiet. He ran back to the radio, sank to his knees before it and excitedly twisted the knob which furnished electric current. The small dial gained life, bringing the imprinted numbers into sharp relief and bringing a hum to the speaker. His burning eagerness to hear stopped his fingers, made him aware of the peculiar thrill the glow and sound had given him. A year, a year and a half ago, this was nothing, but now it was everything. This was next to life itself. This was people somewhere on the other side of the river, healthy people, safe people, talking to each other and continuing their lives. This was civilization, and sanity, and warmth, and food, this was one man on friendly terms with the next. This was what he had lost a long time ago and despaired of ever having again.
Quickly he snapped the radio off and counted the long seconds, then eagerly turned it on again only to see the light come up, to listen to the growing power of the set. There was a strange tightness in his stomach as he touched a second control knob and moved it a fraction of an inch.