Strangers are a nuisance. Few people have anything new to say to a man once he’s settled down in life.
But occasionally someone turns up whose chance words stir up vivid memories, and set me thinking again.
A man like that turned up at a small party my wife and I gave. He was small, agile, about forty, and he may have been intoxicated. With his type, it’s hard to tell. Some friends of ours had brought him along, and he clearly didn’t know whose house it was he had come to.
He was one of those people who can’t stop talking. I steer clear of talkers usually, but he managed to corner me and so I let him chatter volubly on for a few minutes.
Then I discovered that this one was different, from my point of view. He had just returned from an expedition to Celenthenis, the Planet of Cold.
I became more alive to him. “Oh yes,” I said, “I had heard there was a second expedition. What did you think of the place?”
“Well, the cold’s pretty drastic.”
“Too much for you, eh?”
“Yes.” He nodded emphatically, as if he could read my mind. “It’s too cold for description. There’s practically no temperature to the place at all. Goddammit, it’s right at the dead end of creation.”
I pondered over his words. The dead end of creation…
