"Dad'll make you."
"You better give it to him," Sally said.
"Catch me." Earl started off. Steven pushed Sally out of the way,
lashing wildly at his brother. He collided with him, throwing him
sprawling. The box fell from Earl's hands. It skidded to the pavement,
crashing into the side of a guide-light post.
Earl and Steven picked themselves up slowly. They gazed down at the
broken box.
"See?" Steven shrilled, tears filling his eyes. "See what you did?"
"You did it. You pushed into me."
"You did it!"' Steven bent down and picked up the box. He carried it
over to the guide-light, sitting down on the curb to examine it.
Earl came slowly over. "If you hadn't pushed me it wouldn't have got
broken."
Night was descending rapidly. The line of hills rising above the town
were already lost in darkness. A few lights had come on here and
there. The evening was warm. A surface car slammed its doors, some
place off in the distance. In the sky ships droned back and forth,
weary commuters coming home from work in the big underground factory
units.
Thomas Cole came slowly toward the three children grouped around the
guide-light. He moved with difficulty, his body sore and bent with
fatigue. Night had come, but he was not safe yet.
He was tired, exhausted and hungry. He had walked a long way. And he
had to have something to eat--soon.
A few feet from the children Cole stopped. They were all intent and
absorbed by the box on Steven's knees. Suddenly a hush fell over the
children. Earl looked up slowly.
In the dim light the big stooped figure of Thomas Cole seemed extra
menacing. His long arms hung down loosely at his sides. His face was
lost in shadow. His body was shapeless, indistinct. A big unformed
statue, standing silently a few feet away, unmoving in the
half-darkness.
"Who are you?" Earl demanded, his voice low.
"What do you want?" Sally said. The children edged away nervously.
"Get away."
Cole came toward them. He bent down a little. The beam from the
guide-light crossed his features. Lean, prominent nose, beak-like,
faded blue eyes--
Steven scrambled to his feet, clutching the vidsender box. "You get
out of here!"
"Wait." Cole smiled crookedly at them. His voice was dry and raspy.
"What do you have there?" He pointed with his long, slender fingers.
"The box you're holding."
The children were silent. Finally Steven stirred. "It's my
inter-system vidsender."
"Only it doesn't work," Sally said.
"Earl broke it." Steven glared at his brother bitterly. "Earl threw it
down and broke it."
Cole smiled a little. He sank down wearily on the edge of the curb,
sighing with relief. He had been walking too long. His body ached with
fatigue. He was hungry, and tired. For a long time he sat, wiping
perspiration from his neck and face, too exhausted to speak.
"Who are you?" Sally demanded, at last. "Why do you have on those
funny clothes? Where did you come from?"
"Where?" Cole looked around at the children. "From a long way off. A
long way." He shook his head slowly from side to side, trying to clear
it.
"What's your therapy?" Earl said.
"My therapy?"
"What do you do? Where do you work?"
Cole took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. "I fix things.
All kinds of things. Any kind."
Earl sneered. "Nobody fixes things. When they break you throw them
away."
Cole didn't hear him. Sudden need had roused him, getting him suddenly
to his feet. "You know any work I can find?" he demanded. "Things I
could do? I can fix anything. Clocks, type-writers, refrigerators,
pots and pans. Leaks in the roof. I can fix anything there is."