No weapon
has ever been frightful enough
to put a stop to war
—perhaps because
we never before had any
that thought
for themselves!
Taylor sat back in hischair reading the morningnewspaper. The warm kitchenand the smell of coffeeblended with the comfort of nothaving to go to work. This washis Rest Period, the first for along time, and he was glad ofit. He folded the second sectionback, sighing with contentment.
"What is it?" Mary said, fromthe stove.
"They pasted Moscow againlast night." Taylor nodded hishead in approval. "Gave it areal pounding. One of those R-Hbombs. It's about time."
He nodded again, feeling thefull comfort of the kitchen, thepresence of his plump, attractivewife, the breakfast dishes and coffee.This was relaxation. And thewar news was good, good andsatisfying. He could feel a justifiableglow at the news, a senseof pride and personal accomplishment.After all, he was anintegral part of the war program,not just another factory workerlugging a cart of scrap, but atechnician, one of those who designedand planned the nerve-trunkof the war.
"It says they have the newsubs almost perfected. Wait untilthey get those going." He smackedhis lips with anticipation."When they start shelling fromunderwater, the Soviets are suregoing to be surprised."
"They're doing a wonderfuljob," Mary agreed vaguely. "Doyou know what we saw today?Our team is getting a leady toshow to the school children. Isaw the leady, but only for amoment. It's good for the childrento see what their contributionsare going for, don't youthink?"
She looked around at him.
"A leady," Taylor murmured.He put the newspaper slowlydown. "Well, make sure it's decontaminatedproperly. We don'twant to take any chances."
"Oh, they always bathe themwhen they're brought down fromthe surface," Mary said. "Theywouldn't think of letting themdown without the bath. Wouldthey?" She hesitated, thinkingback. "Don, you know, it makesme remember—"
He nodded. "I know."
He knew what she was thinking.Once in the very firstweeks of the war, before everyonehad been evacuated from thesurface, they had seen a hospitaltrain discharging the wounded,people who had been showeredwith sleet. He remembered theway they had looked, the expressionon their faces, or asmuch of their faces as was left.It had not been a pleasant sight.
There had been a lot of thatat first, in the early days beforethe transfer to undersurface wascomplete. There had been a lot,and it hadn't been very difficultto come across it.
Taylor looked up at his wife.She was thinking too much aboutit, the last few months. They allwere.
"Forget it," he said. "It's allin the past. There isn't anybodyup there now but the leadys, andthey don't mind."
"But just the same, I hopethey're careful when they let oneof them down here. If one werestill hot—"
He laughed, pushing himselfaway from the table. "Forget it.This is a wonderful moment; I'llbe home for the next two shifts.Nothing to do but sit around andtake things easy. Maybe we cantake in a show. Okay?"
"A show? Do we have to? Idon't like to look at all the destruction,the ruins. Sometimes Isee some place I remember, likeSan Francisco. They showed ashot of San Francisco, the bridgebroken and fallen in the water,and I got upset. I don't like towatch."
"But don't you want to kno