The creature pulled its face around the edges until it shed off into
its hands, a green-grey pallid mask of plastic rubber. The sweating
pink face of Cross appeared. He wriggled his fingers next, until the
green-gray, chemically bleeding horror gloves sucked off. He tossed
these into a wall-incinerator. "The day of the Rocket is over," he
said, quietly. "They'll be putting your bill up before the World
Legislature tomorrow, or I miss my guess. Carefulness, thought and
intellect will now get a start. Humanity is saved from itself."
Stanley watched Cross walk into the shower-cube, peel, and switch on
the spray.
He turned to the window again. Two billion people were thinking
tonight. He knew what they were thinking. Outside, he heard the
explosion as the health department blew up the great Rocket.
That was all. The sound of water on the shower-tiles was a good clean
sound.