* * * * * Dazed and numb, Cudyk felt the universe moving under him like a gigantic pendulum. He saw faces appear and vanish, felt someone push him aside, heard voices faintly. After a long time his head cleared, and there was silence. He was lying at the foot of the stairs, one arm flung over the first step. Rack was not there; no one was there but himself. He moved cautiously and was rewarded by an astonishing number and variety of pains. But apparently he had broken no bones. He felt weak and hollow; he was afraid he might vomit. He hoisted his torso up slowly, sat on the lowest step and then put his head between his trembling knees. He heard a foot scuff on the concrete floor, and looked up. It was Seu. The Chinese looked at him anxiously. "You're all right?" "Yes. I think so. I have felt better in my life." "Do you want to get up? Did you jump or fall?" Cudyk leaned forward, trying the strength of his thighs to raise him, and Seu put a hand under his arm to help. "I jumped," Cudyk said. "What happened, afterward?" "The mob came down, me in the middle, and I couldn't stop to see if you were all right. They took Rack with them. He was unconscious then; he may have been dead." "And?" "They tore him apart," said Seu. They moved toward the exit from the kitchen, Seu holding Cudyk's arm firmly. "I don't know if you felt this," the mayor said stiffly, "but the way it seemed to me was that Rack suddenly represented all of it--not only the bombings, but the Quarter, the Galaxy, Earth--everything we hated. It was a feeling of release, a kind of ecstasy. Watch out for the sill." "Scapegoat," Cudyk said, indistinctly. "Yes.... Zydh Oran saw it, you know. He was there when the mob came out. He saw it all. This finishes the Quarter, Laszlo. After this there won't be any more reprieves." Cudyk glanced down at Seu's plump fingers. There was a thin film of blood on the skin, and a dark line of it around each finger-nail. * * * * * Cudyk stood at the top of the gentle rise opposite the Washington Avenue bridge, and looked down at the Quarter. It was just after sunset, and the ranked street-lights cast a lonesome gleam. The streets were empty. There was no one left in the Quarter except one man in the powerhouse. When the time was up, he would pull the switches on the master board and come out; then the Quarter would be dead. The Niori edict had come on the Wednesday morning after Rack's death. They had been given four days to pack their belongings, arrange for assignment of cargo space, and wind up their several affairs. Cudyk's stock was small and his personal belongings few; he had been ready two days ago. The evening breeze, freshening, pressed Cudyk's trousers against his calves and stirred the hair at the back of his head. Looking into the east, he saw a few pallid stars in the sky.