At the corner a group of Joshuas, sons of Nuns, were standing with their foreheads pasted to the glass of the wall. Inside, on a dazzling white table already a Number lay. One could see two naked soles diverging from under the sheet in a yellow angle.... White medics bent over his head,--a white hand, a stretched-out hand holding a syringe filled with something.... "And you, what are you waiting for?" I asked nobody in particular, or rather all of them. "And you?" Someone's round head turned to me. "I? Oh, afterward! I must first...." Somewhat confused, I left the place. I really had to see I-330 first. But why first? I could not explain to myself.... The docks. The _Integral_, bluish like ice, was glistening and sparkling. The engine was caressingly grumbling, repeating some one word, as if it were my word, a familiar one. I bent down and stroked the long, cold tube of the motor. "Dear! What a dear tube! Tomorrow it will come to life, tomorrow for the first time it will tremble with burning, flaming streams in its bowels." With what eyes would I have looked at the glass monster had everything remained as it was yesterday? If I knew that tomorrow at twelve I should betray it, yes, betray.... Someone behind cautiously touched my elbow. I turned around. The plate-like, flat face of the Second Builder. "Do you know already?" he asked. "What? About the Operation? Yes. How everything, everything ... suddenly...." "No, not that. The trial flight is put off until day-after-tomorrow,--on account of that Operation. They rushed us for nothing; we hurried...." "On account of that Operation!" Funny, limited man. He could see no farther than his own platter! If only he knew that but for the Operation tomorrow at twelve he would be locked-up in a glass cage, would be tossing about, trying to climb the walls! At twelve-thirty when I came into my room I saw U-. She was sitting at my table, firm, straight, bone-like, resting her right cheek on her hand. She must have waited for a long while because when she brusquely rose to meet me there remained on her cheek five white imprints of her fingers. For a second that terrible morning came back to me; she beside I-330, indignant. But for a second only. All was at once washed off by the sun of today, as it happens sometimes when you enter your room on a bright day and absent-mindedly turn on the light, the bulb shines but it is out of place, droll, unnecessary. Without hesitation I held out my hand to her; I forgave her everything. She firmly grasped both my hands and pressed them till they hurt. Her cheeks quivering and hanging down like ancient precious ornaments, she said with emotion: "I was waiting.... I want only one moment.... I only wanted to say ... how happy, how joyous I am for you! You realize of course, that tomorrow or day-after-tomorrow you will be healthy again, as if born anew."