Cities in Flight

“Yes. That will be the end. After that June second, there will be no June third, forever and ever.”

“And so,” Hazleton said to the people in his living room. “It seemed to me that we ought to have a farewell dinner. Most of you are leaving, with He, tomorrow morning, for the metagalactic center. And those of you that are leaving are mostly my friends of hundreds of years, that I’ll never see again; for me, when June second comes, time will have to stop—whatever apotheosis you may go on to. That’s why I asked you all to eat and drink with me tonight.”

“I wish you’d change your mind,” Amalfi said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“I wish I could. But I can’t.”

“I think you’re making a mistake, Mark,” Jake said solemnly. “Nothing important remains to be done on New Earth now. The future, what little’s left of it, is on He. Why stay behind and wait to be snuffed out?”

“Because,” Hazleton said, “I’m the mayor here. I know that doesn’t seem important to you, Jake. But it’s important to me. One thing that I’ve discovered in the last few months is that I’m not cut out to take the apocalyptic view of ordinary events. What counts with me is that I run normal human affairs pretty well—nothing more. That’s what I was made for. Besting Jorn the Apostle was something that gave me great pleasure, and no matter that Amalfi set it up for me; it was fun, the kind of operation that makes me feel alive and operating at the top of my form. I’m not interested in trying to avert the triumph of time. That’s not my kind of adversary. I leave that to the rest of you; I’d better stay here.”

“Do you like to think,” Gifford Bonner said, “that no matter how well you administer the Cloud, it will all be snuffed out on June second three years from now?”

“No; not exactly,” Mark said. “But I shan’t mind having the Cloud in the best shape I can manage when that time comes. What can I contribute to the triumph of time, Gif? Nothing. All I can do is put my world in order for that moment. That’s the thing that I do—and that’s why I don’t belong aboard He.”

“You didn’t use to be so modest,” Amalfi said. “You would have bailed the universe out with the Big Dipper, once, on the first excuse.”

“Yes, I would,” Hazleton said. “But I’m older and saner now; and so, good-bye to that nonsense. Go stop the triumph of time, John, if you can—but I know I can’t. I’ll stay where I am and stop Jorn the Apostle, which is as tough a problem as I care to tackle these days. The gods of all stars be with you all—but I stay here.”

“So be it,” Amalfi said. “At least I know at last what the real difference is between us. Let’s drink to it, Mark, and ave atque vale— tomorrow we turn down an empty glass.”

They all drank solemnly, and there was a brief silence.

At last Dee said: “I’m staying too.”

Amalfi turned and looked directly at her for the first time since they had last been together on He; they had been rather pointedly avoiding each other since their painful joint fiasco.

“That hadn’t occurred to me,” he said. “But of course it makes sense.”

“You’re not required, Dee,” Mark said. “As I’ve said before.”

“If I were, I wouldn’t stay,” Dee said, smiling slightly. “But I’ve learned a few things on He—and on board the Warrior blockader, too. I feel a little out of date, just like New Earth; I think I belong here. And that’s not the only reason.”

“Thanks,” Mark said huskily,

“But,” Web Hazleton said, “where does that leave us?”

Jake laughed. “That ought to be clear enough,” he said. “Since you and Estelle made the big decision by yourselves, you don’t need us to tell you how to make little ones. I’d like to have Estelle stay home with me—”

“Jake, you’re not going either?” Amalfi said in astonishment.

“No. I told you before, I hate this careering about the universe. I don’t see any reason why I ought to go rushing madly to the metagalactic center to meet a doom that will find me just as handily in my own living room. Schloss and Retma will tell you that they don’t need me any more, either; I’ve given my best to this project, and that’s an end to it; I think I’ll see how far I can get on cross-breeding roses in this villainous climate before the three years are up. As for my daughter, as I was trying to say, I’d like to have her here with me, but she’s already left home in the crucial sense—and this last Hevian flight is as natural to her as it’s unnatural to Dee and me. In your own words, Amalfi, so be it.”

“Good. We can use you, Estelle, that’s for sure. Want to come?” Amalfi said.

“Yes,” she said softly, “I do.”

“I hadn’t thought of this,” Dee said in an uncertain voice. “Of course it means Web will go too. Do you think that’s wise? I mean—”

“My parents don’t object,” Web said. “And I notice they weren’t invited here tonight, grandmother.”