The doctor stood across the room with his back to the wall, in shadow.
Mr. Pale whispered, “Better take me up on this. Better die when you have the chance than live on for a million billion years. Believe me. Iknow.I’m almost glad to die. Almost, but not quite. Self-preservation.
Well?”
The doctor was at the door. “I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t go,” murmured Mr. Pale. “You’ll regret it.”
“You’re lying.”
“Don’t let me die … ” The voice was so far away now, the lips barely moved. “Please don’t let me die. You need me. All life needs me to make life worthwhile, to give it value, to give it contrast. Don’t … “
Mr. Pale was thinner and smaller and now the flesh seemed to melt faster. “No,” he sighed. “No … ” said the wind behind the hard yellowed teeth. “Please … ” The deep-socketed eyes fixed themselves in a stare at the ceiling.
The doctor crashed out the door and slammed it and bolted it tight. He lay against it, weeping again, and through the ship he could see the people standing in groups staring back at the empty space where Earth had been. He heard cursing and wailing. He walked unsteadily and in great unreality for an hour through the ship’s corridors until he reached the captain.
“Captain, no one is to enter that room where the dying man is. He has a plague. Incurable. Quite insane. He’ll be dead within the hour. Have the room welded shut.”
“What?” said the captain. “Oh, yes, yes. I’ll attend to it. I will. Did you see? See Earth go?”
“I saw it.”
They walked numbly away from each other. The doctor sat down beside his wife who did not recognize him for a moment until he put his arm around her.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
Her shoulders shook. He held her very tightly, his eyes clenched in on the trembling in his own body. They sat this way for several hours.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “Think of something else. Forget Earth. Think about Mars, think about the future.”
They sat back in their seats with vacant faces. He lit a cigarette and could not taste it, and passed it to her and lit another for himself. “How would you like to be married to me for another ten million years?” he asked.
“Oh, I’d like that,” she cried out, turning to him and seizing his arm in her own, fiercely wrapping it to her. “I’d like that very much!”
“Wouldyou?” he said.
1997
The end
