The door was ajar. He entered the observatory and heard the low whine of the dome mechanism and the quiet click of the observatory clock. Except for the low glow of the clock-light, the room was in darkness. The twelve-inch refractor was in operation. He could see the observer, a dim outline, crouched over the eyepiece of the guiding telescope.

Reich walked toward him, nervous, strained, flinching at the loud clack of his footsteps in the silence. There was a chill in the air.

“Listen,” Reich began in a low voice. “Sorry to bother you but you must have noticed. You’re in the star business. You have noticed, haven’t you? The stars. They’re gone. All of them. What’s happened? Why hasn’t there been any alarm? Why’s everybody pretending? My God! The stars! We always take them for granted. And now they’re gone. What’s happened? Where are the stars?”

The figure straightened slowly and turned toward Reich. “There are no stars,” it said.

It was the Man With No Face.

Reich cried out. He turned and ran. He flew out of the door, down the steps and across the lawn to the waiting cab. He blundered against the crystal cabin wall with a crack that dropped him to his knees.

The driver pulled him to his feet. “You all right, Mac?”

“I don’t know,” Reich groaned. “I wish I did.”

“None of my business,” the driver said, “but I think you ought to see a peeper. You’re talkin’ crazy.”

“About the stars?”

“Yeah.”

Reich gripped the man. “I’m Ben Reich,” he said, “Ben Reich of Monarch.”

“Yeah, Mac. I recognized you.”

“Good. You know what I can do for you if you do me a favor? Money… New Job… Anything you want…”

“You can’t do nothin’ for me, Mac. I already been adjusted at Kingston.”

“Better. An honest man. Will you do me a favor for the love of God or anything you love?”

“Sure, Mac.”

“Go into that building. Take a look at the man behind the telescope. A good look. Come back and describe him to me.”

The driver departed, was gone five minutes, then returned.

“Well?”

“He’s just an ordinary guy, Mac. Sixtyish. Bald. Got lines in his face kinda deep. His ears stick out and he’s got what they call a weak chin. You know. It kinda backslides.”

“It’s nobody… nobody,” Reich muttered.

“What?”

“About those stars,” Reich said. “You never heard of them? You never saw them? You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Nope.”

“Oh God…” Reich moaned. “Sweet God…”

“Now don’t warp your orbit, Mac.” The driver thumped him powerfully on the back. “Tell you something. They taught me plenty up at Kingston. One of them things was… Well, sometimes you get a crazy notion. It’s brand new, see? But you think you always had it. Like… oh… for instance, that people always had one eye and now all of a sudden they got two.”

Reich stared at him.

“So you run around yellin’: ‘For Chrissakes, where did they all of a sudden get two eyes everybody?’ And they say: ‘They always got two eyes.’ And you say: ‘The hell they did. I distinctly remember everybody got one eye.’ And by God you believe it. And they have a hell of a time knockin’ the notion outa you.” The driver thumped him again. “Seems to me, Mac, like you’re on a one-eye kick.”