"Go away！ Tell it to someone else！"
"Well， look for yourself！ Here is the telescope."
They had already disappeared. Endless green desert— and in that desert， dominating it completely and dominating me， and everybody， the piercing vibrations of the gong； dinnertime， one minute to twelve.
For a second the little world around me became incoherent， dispersed. Someone"s brass badge fell to the floor. It mattered little. Soon it was under my heel. A voice： "And I tell you， it was a face！" A black square， the open door of the main saloon. White teeth pressed together， smiling...And at that moment， when the clock began slowly to strike， holding its breath between beats， and when the front rows began to move toward the dining saloon， the rectangle of the door was suddenly crossed by the two familiar， unnaturally long arms.
"STOP！"
Someone"s fingers sank piercing into my palm. It was I-330. She was beside me.
"Who is it？ Do you know him？"
"Is he not？ ...Is he not？..."
He was already lifted upon somebody"s shoulders. Above a hundred other faces， his face like hundreds， like thousands of other faces， yet unique among them all
"In the name of the Guardians！ You， to whom I talk， they hear me， every one of them hears me. I talk to you： we know！ We don"t know your numbers yet， but we know everything else. The Integral shall not be yours！ The test flight will be carried out to the end and you， you will not dare to make another move！ You， with your own hands， will help to go on with the test and afterward...well， I have finished！"
Silence. The glass plates under my feet seemed soft， cotton-like. My feet， too—soft， cotton-like. Beside me—she with a dead-white smile， angry blue sparks. Through her teeth to me：
"Ah！ It is your work！ You did your "duty"！ Well... " She tore her hand from mine； the Valkyrie helmet with indignant wings was soon to be seen some distance in front of me. I was alone， torpid， silent. Like everyone else I followed into the dining saloon.
But it was not I， not I！ I told nobody， save these white， mute pages ...I cried this to her within me， inaudibly， desperately， loudly. She was across the table， directly opposite me， and not once did she even touch me with her gaze. Beside her someone"s ripe， yellow， bald head. I heard （it was I-330"s voice）：
""Nobility" of character！ But my dear professor， even a superficial etymological analysis of the word shows that it is a superstition， a remnant of the ancient feudal epoch. We..."
I felt I was growing pale， and that they would soon notice it. But the phonograph within me performed the prescribed fifty chewing movements for every bite. I locked myself into myself as though into an opaque house； I threw up a heap of reeks before my door and lowered the window blinds....
Afterward， the telephone of the commander was again in my hands， and again we made the flight through the clouds with icy， supreme anxiety into the icy， starry， sunny night. Minutes， hours passed...Apparently all that time the motor of logic within me was working feverishly at full speed. For suddenly somewhere， at a distant point of the dark blue space， I saw my desk， and the gill-like cheeks of U- bent over it， and the forgotten pages of my records！ It became clear to me； nobody but her...everything was dear to me！
If only I could reach the radio room soon...wing-like helmets， the odor of blue lightning...I remember telling her something in a low voice， and I remember how she looked through me， and how her voice seemed to come from a distance：
"I am busy. I am receiving a message from below. You may dictate yours to her."
The small， box-like little cabin...I thought for a second and then dictated in a firm voice：
"Time fourteen-forty. Going down. Motors stopped. The end of all."
The commander"s bridge. The machine heart of the Integral stopped； we were falling； my heart could not catch up and would remain behind and rise higher and higher into my throat....Clouds....And then a distant green spot—everything green， more and more distinct， running like a storm toward us. "Soon the end."
The porcelain-like distorted white face of the Second Builder！ It was he who struck me with all his strength； I hurt my head on something； and through the approaching darkness， I heard while falling：
"Full speed—aft！"
A brusque jolt upward....