It was not that she did not know the answer; she did not know how, or what she knew, nor did she know how to convey it, nor whether it was wise to convey it. But the knowing within her was quietly and completely certain that Donal knew, and would know what should and should not be said.

Sayona shrugged wryly. “I am a fool; I do not believe what all my own knowledge assures me. It was perfectly certain that the Select of Kultis would make such an answer. I am afraid to ask him; knowing that makes the fear no less. But you are right, my dear. I . . . will ask him.”

She lifted her hand.

“Donal!” she called.

Out on the balcony he heard her voice. He did not move his eyes from the stars.

“Yes,” he answered.

There were footsteps behind him, and then the voice of Sayona. “Donal—”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” said Donal, without turning. “I didn’t mean to make you wait. But I had something on my mind.”

“Quite all right,” said Sayona. “I hate to disturb you—I know how busy you’ve been lately. But there was a question I wanted to ask.”

“Am I a superman?” asked Donal.

“Yes, that’s essentially it,” Sayona chuckled. “Has somebody else been asking you the same question?”

“No,” Donal was smiling himself. “But I imagine there’s some would like to.”

“Well, you mustn’t blame them,” said Sayona, seriously. “In a certain sense, you actually are, you know.”

“In a sense?”

“Oh,” Sayona made a little dismissing gesture with his hand. “In your general abilities, compared to the ordinary man. But that wasn’t my question—”

“I believe you have said that a name is without meaning in itself. What do you mean by ‘Superman’? Can your question be answered, if that tag has no meaning, no definition?

“And who would want to be a Superman?” asked Donal in a tone halfway between irony and sadness, his eyes going to the depth beyond depth of star-space. “What man would want sixty billion children to raise? What man could cope with so many? How would he like to make the necessitous choices between them, when he loved them all equally? Think of the responsibility involved in refusing them candy when they shouldn’t—but could—have it, and seeing that they went to the dentist against their wills! And if ‘Superman’ means a unique individual— think of having sixty billion children to raise, and no friend to relax with, complain to, to blow off steam to, so that the next day’s chores would be more bearable.

“And if your ‘Superman’ were so super, who could force him to spend his energies wiping sixty billion noses, and cleaning up the messes sixty billion petulant bratlings made? Surely a Superman could find some more satisfying use for his great talents?”