[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine August 1961.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Let the dead past bury its dead?
Not while I am alive, it won't!
It surely was all right for me to let myself do it now. I couldn't have
been more safe. In the window of the radio store a color television
set was enjoying a quiz by itself and creased in my pocket was the
newspaper account of the failure of a monumental human adventure in the
blooming extinction of a huge rocket. The boys on the corner seemed
hardly human, scowling anthropoids in walrus-skin coats. It was my own
time. Anybody could see I was safe, and I could risk doing what I ached
to do.