They went into the tiled patio of the hotel. The kidney-shaped pool was empty, and its basin was criss-crossed with gaping cracks. Many of the potted shrubs had died untended, but the palms still flourished. The fronds laced skeletal fingers across the face of the full moon. The dry, desert wind washed through the trees, the ghost whisper of the dream that had died in Port City. "Don't say anything to Dr. Vayle about his book." Holly Wilson's voice was surprisingly sincere. "Play along with him, please; let him go on thinking he's found the great secret." "What is it--alcoholism or madness?" "A little of both. No one's really sane any more." "I came home the last time seven years ago. It wasn't this bad then. What's happened?" "Most of the adults have emigrated to the colonies. There are only a few derelicts left--like Adrian Vayle and myself." * * * * * Nearly sober, Greg remembered the discovery he had stumbled on in the bar, and the logic still held up. "They've taken over the earth and thrown men out." "The children? You talk as if--" "Tell me everything about it, from the beginning." "The kids are different; that's all there is to it. They read minds. They move themselves anywhere they please simply by thinking about it. God knows what else they'll learn to whip up after they get the hang of it." "Are all the children like this?" "No. The others emigrated with their parents. Dr. Vayle says there are about five million. That's approximately the total population of the earth, now. They've shoved the rest of us out." "By force?" "Who wants to hang around like a pet ape to amuse his own brats? Dr. Vayle was too old to go. I--I couldn't get a medical clearance." "I don't think the colonies are aware that the emigration was so large." "Why should they be? We've half a dozen worlds out there. They could absorb us all." "So the kids have taken over everything." "What they wanted, yes. For a while we thought it was temporary. Dr. Vayle didn't begin drinking until we knew the change was permanent. The oldest kids are nineteen now. They're beginning to marry, and all their children have the same abilities. Or witchcraft. Call it what you like." "As old as nineteen? Then the change dates from--" "From your first flight, Captain Greg. I sometimes look at that damn statue in the square and laugh till it hurts. A brave, new frontier you discovered--but that wasn't all you gave us." "You believe I'm responsible for--" Greg gestured toward the slow decay in the patio. "For this?" "Who else, Captain? It's the kids who should build you a monument. You gave them the earth."