He paused. "Is there anything you wish to say?" "Yes, there is." "Proceed." Michael stared straight at the President. After a long moment, he raised his hand to the tiny locket at his throat. "Perhaps you remember," he said, "the lockets given to every member of the expedition the night before we left. I still have mine." He raised it. "So does my wife. They were designed to kill the wearer instantly and painlessly if he were ever faced with pain or a terror he couldn't endure." The President was standing again. A stir ran along the barricade of desks. "We can't endure the city," went on Michael, "or its life and the ways of the people." He glanced along the line of staring faces. "If what I think you're about to say is true," said the President in a shaking voice, "it would have been better if you'd never been born." "Let's face facts, Mr. President. We were _born_ and haven't died--yet." A pause. "And we can kill ourselves right here before your eyes. It'd be painless to us. We'd be unconscious. But there would be horrible convulsions and grimaces. Our bodies would be twisted and torn. They'd thresh about. The deaths you saw in the picture happened a long time ago, in outer space. You all went into hysterics at the sight of them. Our deaths now would be close and terrible to see." The President staggered as though about to faint. There was a stirring and muttering and a jumping up along the desks. Voices cried out, in anger and fear. Arms waved and fists pounded. Hands clasped and unclasped and clawed at collars, and there was a pell mell rushing around the President. They yelled at each other and clasped each other by the shoulders, turned away and back again, and then suddenly became very still. Now they began to step down from the raised line of desks, the President leading them, and came close to the man and woman, gathering around them in a wide half circle. Michael and Mary were holding the lockets close to their throats. The half circle of people, with the President at its center was moving closer and closer. They were sweaty faces and red ones and dry white ones and hands were raised to seize them. Michael put his arm around Mary's waist. He felt the trembling in her body and the waiting for death. "Stop!" he said quietly. They halted, in slight confusion, barely drawing back. "If you want to see us die--just come a step closer.... And remember what'll happen to you." The faces began turning to each other and there was an undertone of muttering and whispering. "A ghastly thing.... Instant.... Nothing to do.... Space's broken their minds.... They'll do it.... Eyes're mad.... What can we do?... What?..." The sweaty faces, the cold white ones, the flushed hot ones: all began to turn to the President, who was staring at the two before him like a man watching himself die in a mirror. "I command you," he suddenly said, in a choked voice, "to--to give me those--lockets! It's your--duty!"