Out on the plain one of the Organisms, Alpha, sat down, caught a handful of air, a globe of blue liquid, a rock, kneaded them together, pulled the mixture like taffy, gave it a great heave. It uncoiled from his hand like rope. The Relict crouched low. No telling what devilry would occur to the creature. He and all the rest of them--unpredictable! The Relict valued their flesh as food; but they also would eat him if opportunity offered. In the competition he was at a great disadvantage. Their random acts baffled him. If, seeking to escape, he ran, the worst terror would begin. The direction he set his face was seldom the direction the varying frictions of the ground let him move. But the Organisms were as random and uncommitted as the environment, and the double set of vagaries sometimes compounded, sometimes canceled each other. In the latter case the Organisms might catch him.... It was inexplicable. But then, what was not? The word "explanation" had no meaning. They were moving toward him; had they seen him? He flattened himself against the sullen yellow rock. The two Organisms paused not far away. He could hear their sounds, and crouched, sick from conflicting pangs of hunger and fear. Alpha sank to his knees, lay flat on his back, arms and legs flung out at random, addressing the sky in a series of musical cries, sibilants, guttural groans. It was a personal language he had only now improvised, but Beta understood him well. "A vision," cried Alpha, "I see past the sky. I see knots, spinning circles. They tighten into hard points; they will never come undone." Beta perched on a pyramid, glanced over this shoulder at the mottled sky. "An intuition," chanted Alpha, "a picture out of the other time. It is hard, merciless, inflexible." Beta poised on the pyramid, dove through the glassy surface, swam under Alpha, emerged, lay flat beside him. "Observe the Relict on the hillside. In his blood is the whole of the old race--the narrow men with minds like cracks. He has exuded the intuition. Clumsy thing--a blunderer," said Alpha. "They are all dead, all of them," said Beta. "Although three or four remain." (When _past_, _present_ and _future_ are no more than ideas left over from another era, like boats on a dry lake--then the completion of a process can never be defined.) Alpha said, "This is the vision. I see the Relicts swarming the Earth; then whisking off to nowhere, like gnats in the wind. This is behind us." The Organisms lay quiet, considering the vision. A rock, or perhaps a meteor, fell from the sky, struck into the surface of the pond. It left a circular hole which slowly closed. From another part of the pool a gout of fluid splashed into the air, floated away. Alpha spoke: "Again--the intuition comes strong! There will be lights in the sky." The fever died in him. He hooked a finger into the air, hoisted himself to his feet.