* * * * *
More to achieve, somehow, my own peace of mind, than in any hope of its
being discovered, I have written this narrative. There are two copies,
this to be placed in a helio-beryllium box at the terminus of the
bridge, the other within the comet[TN-3]. One at least should thus be
able to escape the meteors which, unimpeded by the thin atmosphere, have
begun to strike everywhere, tearing up great craters in the explosion
that follows as a result of the impact.
My time is nearly up. Air is still plentiful on the _Comet_, but my
provisions will soon run short. It is now slightly over a month since I
collapsed on the sands into merciful sleep, and I possess food and water
for perhaps another. But why go on in my terrible loneliness?
Sometimes I waken from a dream in which they are all so near--Kelvar,
Garth, all my old companions--and for a moment I cannot realize how far
away they are. Beyond years and years. And I, trampling back and forth
over the dust of our old life, staring across the waste, waiting--for
what?
No, I shall wait only until the dark. When the sun drops over the
Grimaldi plateau, I shall put my manuscripts in their safe places, then
tear off my helmet and join the other two.
An hour ago, the bottom edge of the sun touched the horizon.
Transcriber's notes:
TN-1 Spaced em dash is found in the original.
TN-2 Corrected from litle to little.
TN-3 Not Capitalised or italicised in the original, but should
probably read _Comet_
TN-4 This etext was produced from "Astounding Stories" December
1931. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.