w what to do or say. I was scared and mad
and sorry for Marge for keeping such a secret bottled up inside herself
for so long.

The first thing I said was, "There must be a mistake--" until I
remembered that there were _never_ any mistakes with Grundy Projectors.

* * * * *

Nevertheless, I still tried to find a way out of the situation. "Maybe
you couldn't find us because we moved," I said quickly. "Maybe I got
another job and left town or was transferred to the Boston office. Mr.
Atkins has mentioned it a couple of times."

"I looked," Marge said miserably. "I looked everywhere and I just
couldn't see us anywhere."

"But how do you know we're going to die?" I argued. "Did you see it
happen?"

She shook her head. "I didn't dare look that close. I got it pinned down
to somewhere in the next month and I didn't dare look any closer, afraid
I might have to see something horrible. All I know is we just won't be
around sometime after the next four or five weeks."

"Has anyone mentioned anything to you about our death?" I asked. It was
considered improper to even hint at another person's death just in case
that person hadn't found out. Still, you know how tactless some people
can be.

Marge just shook her head and went right on sobbing.

"Listen," I said, "I'll bet you're getting all worked up for nothing.
Anything--absolutely anything--could happen in the next few weeks.
There's probably a perfectly simple explanation for the whole thing."

I guess I wasn't very convincing because Marge just stared dumbly at me,
tears spilling out of her eyes. "Gerry, would--would you go and look? If
it's something harmless, you can come right back and tell me. If it's
something awful, I won't ask about it."

"No," I said. "That would be just the same as telling you what's going
to happen. Besides, I don't want to know."

[Illustration]

We just sat around the house for the rest of that evening. After Marge
had gone to bed, I went down to the basement and smashed both our Bilbo
Grundy Time Projectors into little pieces. I'd seen the hopelessness and
despair in people who had learned just how and when they would die.
Smashing the things wouldn't change the future--I realized that--but I
didn't want Marge obeying the impulse to find out. Or myself, for that
matter.

* * * * *

Shortly after that, the quarreling started in earnest. Marge wouldn't
let up on the bus