Duffy cut the phone off hastily and turned to him.

“Ben,” she began.

“Wait here for me,” he growled. “I’m going to find out.”

“Find out about what?”

About the stars!" he yelled. “The Christ almighty missing stars!”

He flung out of the apartment and rushed down to the street. On the empty footway, he paused and stared up again. There was the moon. There was one brilliant red point of light… Mars. There was another… Jupiter. There was nothing else. Blackness. Blackness. Blackness. I hung over his head, enigmatic, unrelieved, terrifying. It pressed downward, by some trick of the eye, oppressive, stifling, deadly.

He began to run, still staring upward. He turned a corner of the footway and collided with a woman, knocking her flat. He pulled her to her feet.

“You clumsy bastard!” she screamed, adjusting her feathers. Then in an oily voice: “Lookin’ for a good time, pilot?”

Reich held her arm. He pointed up. “Look. The stars are gone. Have you noticed? The stars are gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“The stars. Don’t you see? They’re gone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pilot. Cmon. Let’s have us a ball.”

He tore himself away from her claws and ran. Halfway down the footway was a public v-phone alcove. He stepped in and dialed information. The screen lit and a robot voice spoke: “Question?”

“What’s happened to the stars?” Reich asked. “When did it happen? It must have been noticed by now. What’s the explanation?”

There was a click, a pause, then another click. “Will you spell the word, please.”

“Star!” Reich roared. “S-T-A-R. Star!”

Click, pause, click. “Noun or verb?”

“God damn you! Noun!”

Click, pause, click. “There is no information listed under that heading,” the canned voice announced.

Reich swore, then fought to control himself. “Where’s the nearest Observatory to the city?”

“Kindly specify city.”

“This city. New York.”

Click, pause, click. “The Lunar Observatory at Croton Park is situated thirty miles north. It may be reached by Jumper Route North Coordinate 227. The Lunar Observatory was endowed in the year two thousand—”

Reich slammed down the phone. “No information listed under that heading! My God! Are they all crazy?” He ran out into the streets, searching for a Public Jumper. A piloted machine cruised past and Reich signalled. It swooped to pick him up.

“Northco 227,” he snapped as he stepped into the cabin. “Thirty miles. The Lunar Observatory.”

“Premium trip,” the driver said.

“I’ll pay it. Jet!”

The cab jetted. Reich restrained himself for five minutes, then began casually: “Notice the sky?”

“Why, mister?”

“The stars are gone.”

Sycophantic laugh.

“It’s not supposed to be a joke,” Reich said. “The stars are gone.”

“If it ain’t a joke, it needs explaining,” the driver said. “What the hell are stars?”

A blasting reply trembled on Reich’s lips. Before it could erupt, the cab landed him on the observatory grounds close to the domed roof. He snapped: “Wait for me,” and ran across the lawns to the small stone entrance.