I moaned aloud. At the same instant I felt someone gently patting my knee. It was from the left; it was my neighbor who occupied a seat on my left,--an enormous forehead, a bald parabola, yellow unintelligible lines of wrinkles on his forehead, those lines about me. "I understand you. I understand completely," he said. "Yet you must calm yourself. You must. It will return. It will inevitably return. It is only important that everybody should learn of my discovery. You are the first to whom I talk about it. I have calculated that there is no _infinity_! No!" I looked at him wildly. "Yes, yes, I tell you so. There is no infinity. If the universe is infinite, then the average density of matter must equal zero, but as it is not zero, we know, consequently the universe is finite; it is spherical in form and the square of its radius--R2--is equal to the average density multiplied by.... The only thing left is to calculate the numerical coefficient and then.... Do you realize what it means? It means that everything is final, everything is simple.... But you, my honored sir, you disturb me, you prevent my finishing my calculations by your yelling!" I do not know which shattered me more, his discovery, or his positiveness at that apocalyptic hour. I only then noticed that he had a notebook in his hands and a logarithmic dial. I understood then that even if everything was perishing it was my duty (before you, my unknown and beloved) to leave these records in a finished form. I asked him to give me some paper, and here in the rest-room to the accompaniment of the quiet music, transparent like water, I wrote down these last lines. I was about to put down a period as the ancients would put a cross over the caves into which they used to throw their dead, when all of a sudden my pencil trembled and fell from between my fingers.... "Listen!" (I pulled my neighbor). "Yes, listen, I say. There where your finite universe ends, what is there? What?" He had no time to answer. From above, down the steps, stamping.... RECORD FORTY Facts The Bell I Am Certain Daylight. It is clear. The barometer--760 mm. It is possible that I, D-503, really wrote these--pages? Is it possible that I ever felt, or imagined I felt all this? The handwriting is mine. And what follows is all in my handwriting. Fortunately only the handwriting. No more delirium, no absurd metaphors, no feelings,--only facts. For I am healthy, perfectly, absolutely healthy.... I am smiling; I cannot help smiling; a splinter has been taken out of my head and I feel so light, so empty! To be more exact, not empty, but there is nothing foreign, nothing that prevents me from smiling. (Smiling is the normal state for a normal human being).