"Isn't it exciting, watching from here?" she asked, showing enthusiasm at the sight of the crowd below. "You should be enjoying this immensely, you know. Not all the people here have windows to look out of like this." There, now, that should make him feel a little better. His eyes, in their wandering, came to rest upon her uniform, so cool and comforting in its greenness. A flicker of light gleamed from the metallic insignia on her sleeve: "To Care for the Aged." Somewhere inside him an association clicked, a brief fire of response to a past event kindled into a short-lived flame, lighting the way through cobwebs for another _shadow_.... * * * * * How many years he had been waiting for the opportunity, he did not know. It seemed like decades, although it might have been only a handful of months. And all the time he had waited, he could feel himself growing older, could sense the syneresis, the slow solidifying of the life elements within him. He sat quietly and grew old, thinking the chance would never come. But it did come, when he had least expected it. It was a treat--his birthday. Because of it, they had given him actual food for the first time in years: a cake, conspicuous in its barrenness of candles; a glass of real vegetable juices; a dab of potato; an indescribable green that might have been anything at all; and a little steak. A succulent, savory-looking piece of genuine meat. The richness of the food would probably make him sick, so unaccustomed to solid food was his digestive tract by now, but it would be worth the pain. And it was then that he saw the knife. It lay there on the tray, its honed edge glittering in the light of the sun. A sharp knife, capable of cutting steak--or flesh of any kind. "Well, how do you like your birthday present, Mr. Symmes?" He looked up quickly at the woman standing beside the tray. The yellow pallor of her middle-aged skin matched the color of her uniform. She wore the insignia of a geriatrics supervisor. He let a little smile flicker across his face. "Why, it's ... it's wonderful. I never expected it at all. It's been so long, you know. So very long." How could he get rid of her? If he tried anything with her watching, she would stop him. And then he'd never get another chance. "I'm glad you like it, Mr. Symmes. Synthetic foods do get tiresome after a while, don't they?" The idea came with suddenness and he responded to it quickly. "But where are my pink pills? I always take them at lunch." "You won't need them if you're eating real food." He whipped his voice into petulance. "Yes, I will! I don't care if it is real food--I want my pills!" "I'll get them for you later. Go ahead and eat first." "I can't eat until I take my pink pills! You ought to know that! I won't touch a thing until I get them! You've ruined my birthday party."