Stinson ignored him. He glanced down at Sybtl, who sensed that this was a time for good-bys. He thought, perhaps I can stay here alone with her. The webfoots might find us, or the Sand God might destroy us in one of his fits, but it might be worth it. "Don't go," she said. "Not yet." "Earthman, hear me." "I hear you." "Why does your mind shrink backward?" "I've decided not to bring my people here." "_You_ decided?" "Certainly," Stinson said boldly. "Call it rationalization, if you wish. You ordered us away; and I have several good reasons for not coming here if the door was open." "I've changed my mind. You will be welcomed." "Listen to that, will you?" Stinson said angrily. "Just listen! You set yourself up as a God for the webfoots. You get them eating out of your hand. Then what do you do? You throw a fit. Yes, a fit! Like an adolescent. Worse." "Earthman, wait...." "No!" Stinson shot back. "You've owned this planet for a million years. You have brooded here alone since before my people discovered fire, and in all those ages you never learned self-control. I can't subject my people to the whims of an entity who throws a planetary fit when it pleases him." Stinson relaxed. He'd had his say. Sybtl trembled beside him. A small mammal, round, furry, hopped by, sniffing inquisitively. Sybtl said, "Is the Sand God happy?" She shook her head. "No, he is not happy. He is old, old, old. I can feel it. My people say that when one gets too old it is well to die. But Gods never die, do they? I would not like to be a God." "Stinson," the Sand God said. "You said I was adolescent. You are correct. Do you remember I told you how my people, the entire race, left their bodies at the same time? Do you imagine all of us were adults?" "I suppose not. Sounds reasonable. How old were you?" "Chronologically, by our standards, I was nine years old." "But you continued to develop after...." "No." * * * * * Stinson tried to imagine it. At first there must have been a single voice crying into a monstrous emptiness, "Mother, where are you? _MOTHER!_ Where is _everyone_?" A frenzied searching of the planet, the solar system, the galaxy. Then a returning to the planet. Empty.... Change. Buildings, roads, bridges weathering slowly. Such a race would have built of durable metal. Durable? Centuries, eons passed. Buildings crumbled to dust, dust blew away. Bridges eroded, fell, decomposed into basic elements. The shape of constellations changed. All trace of civilization passed except in the cavern of the heated pool. Constellations disappeared, new patterns formed in the night sky. The unutterably total void of time--FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND YEARS! And a nine-year-old child brooding over an empty world. "I don't understand why your development stopped," Stinson said.