Eric didn't answer. He looked past Walden, at the car, wishing he could somehow call to Lisa, wishing they could perceive so that he could reassure her and promise her that somehow he'd still take her to freedom. But it would be an empty promise.... "I've warned you too late. You've found your people, but it won't do you any good. They'll hunt you through the hills, and I won't be able to help you any more." Eric looked back at him, hearing the sadness in his voice. It was real sadness, real emotion. He thought of the years he had spent with Walden, learning, absorbing the old race knowledge, and he remembered that all through those years Walden had never once made him feel uncomfortable because of the difference between them. He looked at the old man for a long time, wishing that it was day so he could read the other's expression, wondering how he had managed to take this man for granted for so long. "Why?" he whispered. "Why are you helping me? Why aren't you like the others?" "I never had a son, Eric. Perhaps that's the reason." Eric thought of Myron and shook his head. "No, it isn't that. My father doesn't feel the way you do. He can't forget that I'm not normal. With him, I'm always aware of the difference." "And you're not with me?" "No," Eric said. "I'm not. Why?" And he wondered why he had never asked that question before. "The final question," Walden said softly. "I wondered how long it would be before you asked it. I wondered if you'd ever ask it. "Haven't you ever thought about why I never married, Eric? Haven't you ever asked yourself why I alone learned to read, and collected books, and studied the old race?" "No," Eric admitted. "I just accepted you." "Even though I can perceive and you can't." Walden paused and Eric waited, not knowing what was coming and yet sure that nothing could surprise him now. "My father was normal," Walden said slowly. "But I never saw him. My mother was like you. So was my brother. We lived in the hills and I was the only one who could perceive. I learned what it was to be different." Eric stared. He couldn't stop staring. And yet he should have realized, long ago, that Walden was different too, in his own way. Walden smiled back, his face, shadowed in moonlight, as quiet and as understanding as ever. For a moment neither spoke, and there was only the faraway sound of crickets chirping and the rustling of the wind in the gardens. And then, from within the aircar, there was a different rustling, that of a person moving. "Lisa!" Eric pushed the compartment panel back. The soft light came on automatically, framing her where she curled against the far wall. "You heard us?" She nodded. Tears had dried on her cheeks. Her eyes were huge in her thin face. "We'd better go, Lisa." He reached in to help her out. They didn't see the aircar dropping in for a landing until it was almost upon them, until its lights arced down over the museum walls.