Babs seemed to be sleepless, too. There was next to no light where Cochrane was--merely the monitor-lights which assured that the Dabney field still existed, though blocked for use by the substance of a planet. Babs arrived in the almost-dark room only minutes after Cochrane. He was moving restlessly from one port to another, staring out. "I thought I'd tell you," Babs volunteered, "that Doctor Holden put some algae from the air-purifier tanks in the airlock, and then opened the outer door." "Why?" asked Cochrane. "Algae's Earth plant-life," explained Babs. "If the air is poisonous, it will be killed by morning. We can close the outer door of the lock, pump out the air that came from this planet, and then let air in from the ship so we can see what happens." "Oh," said Cochrane. "And then I couldn't sleep," said Babs guilelessly. "Do you mind if I stay here? Everybody else has gone to bed." "Oh, no," said Cochrane. "Stay if you like." He stared out at the dark. Presently he moved to another port. After a moment he pointed. "There's a glow in the sky there," he said curtly. She looked. There was a vast curving blackness which masked the stars. Beyond it there was a reddish glare, as if of some monstrous burning. But the color was not right for a fire. Not exactly. "A city?" asked Babs breathlessly. "A volcano," Cochrane told her. "I've staged shows that pretended to show intellectual creatures on other planets--funny how we've been dreaming of such things, back on Earth--but it isn't likely. Not since we've actually reached the stars." "Why since then?" "Because," said Cochrane, half ironically, "man was given dominion over all created things. I don't think we'll find rivals for that dominion. I can't imagine we'll find another race of creatures who could be--persons. Heaven knows we try to rob each other of dignity, but I don't think there's another race to humiliate us when we find them!" After a moment he added: "Bad enough that we're here because there are deodorants and cosmetics and dog-foods and such things that people want to advertise to each other! We wouldn't be here but for them, and for the fact that some people are neurotics and some don't like their bosses and some are crazy in other fashions." "Some crazinesses aren't bad," argued Babs. "I've made a living out of them," agreed Cochrane sourly. "But I don't like them. I have a feeling that I could arrange things better. I know I couldn't, but I'd like to try. In my own small way, I'm even trying." Babs chuckled. "That's because you are a man. Women aren't so foolish. We're realists. We like creation--even men--the way creation is."