The sphere was a relic of the Algrean business, and Algrea hadn't been this much of a trip. But Mechanics said it would do, and it did.
I landed in the Pacific, about three-quarters of a mile off the Santa Monica yacht basin, and let the sphere float north for a while until I reached a secluded spot. In a small curve of the shore line, a few miles above Santa Monica, I beached her, and opened the dissolving cocks.
I watched her melt into the surging water, and turned to face the red and green light almost immediately overhead. I walked up from the beach to the road, not even knowing what they looked like. Their evolution should have matched ours, but who could be sure?
For all I knew, I might be a freak to them. I should have thought of that before dissolving the ship.
Above, the light changed from red to green and across the street, I saw a sign. This was Sunset Boulevard, and the Pacific Coast Highway. This was open country, but Los Angeles.
Along the Coast Highway, a pair of lights were bearing down on me, and they seemed to waver, as though the machine were under imperfect control.
I moved back, out of the way, and the light overhead turned to red. The car stopped about even with me, its motor running.
I couldn't see the occupants nor the driver. The light changed, the car jerked, and the motor stopped.
"Damn," somebody said. It was a female voice.
There was a grinding noise, and another damn, and then a head appeared through the open window on my side of the road.