“That’s correct,” Silvia said.
David came running into the kitchen. “Grandfather Leo’s awake,” he shouted. “I told him you were home, Dad, and he’s real glad and he wants to find out how things are going with you.”
“They’re going swell,” Jack said.
Silvia said to him, “Jack, I’d like for us to go on. If you want to.”
“Sure,” he said. “You know that, I’m back here again.” He smiled at her so forlornly that it almost broke her heart. “I came a long way, first on that no-good damn tractor-bus, which I hate, and then on foot.”
“There won’t be any more,” Silvia said, “of–other choices, will there, Jack? It really has to be that way.”
“No more,” he said, nodding emphatically.
She went over to the table, then, and bending, kissed him on the forehead.
“Thanks,” he said, taking hold of her by the wrist. “That feels good.” She could feel his fatigue; it traveled from him into her.
“You need a good meal,” she said. “I’ve never seen you so–crushed.” It occurred to her, then, that he might have had a new bout with his mental illness from the past, his schizophrenia; that would go far in explaining things. But she did not want to press him on the subject; instead, she said, “We’ll go to bed early tonight, O.K.?”
He nodded in a vague fashion, sipping his iced tea.
“Are you glad now?” she asked. “That you came back here?” Or have you changed your mind? she wondered.
“I’m glad,” he said, and his tone was strong and firm. Obviously he meant it.
“You get to see Grandfather Leo before he goes–” she began.
A scream made her jump, turn to face Jack.
He was on his feet. “Next door. The Steiner house.” He pushed past her; they both ran outside.
At the front door of the Steiner house one of the Steiner girls met them. “My brother–”
She and Jack pushed past the child, and into the house. Silvia did not understand what she saw, but Jack seemed to; he took hold of her hand, stopped her from going any farther.
The living room was filled with Bleekmen. And in their midst she saw part of a living creature, an old man only from the chest on up; the rest of him became a tangle of pumps and hoses and dials, machinery that clicked away, unceasingly active. It kept the old man alive; she realized that in an instant. The missing portion of him had been replaced by it. Oh, God, she thought. Who or what was it, sitting there with a smile on its withered face? Now it spoke to them.
“Jack Bohlen,” it rasped, and its voice issued from a mechanical speaker, out of the machinery: not from its mouth. “I am here to say goodbye to my mother.” It paused, and she heard the machinery speed up, as if it were laboring. “Now I can thank you,” the old man said.
Jack, standing by her, holding her hand, said. “For what? I didn’t do anything for you.”
“Yes, I think so.” The thing seated there nodded to the Bleekmen, and they pushed it and its machinery closer to Jack and straightened it so that it faced him directly. “In my opinion . . .”It lapsed into silence and then it resumed, more loudly, now. “You tried to communicate with me, many years ago. I appreciate that.”
“It wasn’t long ago,” Jack said. “Have you forgotten? You came back to us; it was just today. This is your distant past, when you were a boy.”
She said to her husband, “_Who is it?_”
“Manfred.”
Putting her hands to her face she covered her eyes; she could not bear to look any longer.
“Did you escape AM-WEB?” Jack asked it.
“Yesss,” it hissed, with a gleeful tremor. “I am with my friends.” It pointed to the Bleekmen who surrounded it.
“Jack,” Silvia said, “take me out of here–please, I can’t stand it.” She clung to him, and he then led her from the Steiner house, out once more into the evening darkness.
Both Leo and David met them, agitated and frightened. “Say, son,” Leo said, “what happened? What was that woman screaming about?”
Jack said, “It’s all over. Everything’s O.K.” To Silvia he said, “She must have run outside. She didn’t understand, at first.”
Shivering, Silvia said, “I don’t understand either and I don’t want to; don’t try to explain it to me.” She returned to the stove, turning down the burners, looking into pots to see what had burned.
“Don’t worry,” Jack said, patting her.
She tried to smile.
“It probably won’t happen again,” Jack said. “But even if it does–”
“Thanks,” she said. “I thought when I first saw him that it was his father, Norbert Steiner; that’s what frightened me so.’,
“We’ll have to get a flashlight and hunt around for Erna Steiner,” Jack said. “We want to be sure she’s all right.”
“Yes,” she said. “You and Leo go and do that while I finish here; I have to stay with the dinner or it’ll be spoiled.”
The two men, with a flashlight, left the house. David stayed with her, helping her set the table. Where will you be? she wondered as she watched her son. When you’re old like that, all hacked away and replaced by machinery. . . . Will you be like that, too?
We are better off not being able to look ahead, she said to herself. Thank God we can’t see.
“I wish I could have gone out,” David was complaining. “Why can’t you tell me what it was that made Mrs. Steiner yell like that?”
Silvia said, “Maybe someday.”
But not now, she said to herself. It is too soon, for any of us.
Dinner was ready now, and she went out automatically onto the porch to call Jack and Leo, knowing even as she did so that they would not come; they were far too busy, they had too much to do. But she called them anyhow, because it was her job.
In the darkness of the Martian night her husband and father-in-law searched for Erna Steiner; their light flashed here and there, and their voices could be heard, businesslike and competent and patient.