* * * * * The Voice was already talking at a furious, excited pace. Bill would wait until the time-machine carried them to the very end of entropy. To the heat-death of the universe where all particles were in a state of absolute rest. "Do you not see it? It is only necessary to recreate motion. Start the process over again. How? You have atom-powered motors aboard your ship. The jets of your ship will spew out what are, in comparison with the particles of my composition, solid particles. Gamma rays. Gravitons. Protons. Electrons. Neutrons. "When you have exhausted your fuel, you will convert more in your matter-converter. You will strip the ship, if necessary. Everything must go to supply the necessary energy of motion. "Motion," went on the Voice deliriously. "The universe will once again surge with the motion you have created. Around the loosed particles atoms and molecules will form. They will grow--eventually, as you speed through time, turn into hot suns, flaming nebulae. Planets will be born as the billions of years pass. One of them will be Earth! And Earth will again result in life. Your kind of life. And your kind of life will be master of all other life. "And of course," the Intelligence added as an apologetic afterthought, "it will result in myself." Bill sat up, mouth falling open. "So that's it!" he yelled. He gaped at Molly. "_That's_ what he's been beating around the bush for. To bring about his own resurrection after he dies!" He burst out laughing. "So you want the same cycle to start all over again, Voice. Because, you, as _theta_, as the life-force, will be born again, and eventually will come to full resurrection as the universe again dies. "Reincarnation! "But I'm not sold, see? Get a better sales argument. Molly and I are happy here. We can spend our whole lives on this spaceship and get along famously." The Voice moaned like an animal in pain. Indeed, its energy of life, whatever that was, seemed to be fading. "Dying," said the Voice hollowly. "I am dying. To know that one's self will exist no more, not even in a future life. And it would be so easy for you!" A note of cunning, like an old man hatching schemes to outwit hard youth. "Matter, I would tell you how to repair your time-mechanism so that you could control your forward flight." "No sale!" snapped Bill. "You could stop at whatever point on the newly created Earth you chose. Think of it! I offer you variety, when there might well be monotony!" "We'll get along," said Bill wearily. "You haven't even got your foot in the door." Molly tugged imploringly at his arm. "Bill, you might really like it better in the long run. I wish--" The Voice roared in with new energy, now that it was being backed up. "Yes!" it roared. "Your mate--your mate--ah!"