Numbly he orders up a box and packs his few personal possessions from the office into it. He gives the box to his secretary Karen to mail to him. She’s been crying. He smiles briefly at her, too distracted by his own thoughts to respond adequately. She tells him that Dan Houston has been dismissed too. “Ach,” he says. That on top of everything else; bad for Dan. “I think I’ll go home now,” he says to the office wall.

The quick, shocked automatism of his actions gives him one moment of satisfaction; he’s on his way out when Lemon steps out of the elevator and says, “Dennis, let me talk to you,” with that automatic boss-assumption in his hoarse voice, the assumption that people will always do as he says. And without a glance back McPherson keeps on walking, out the door and down the stairs to the parking garage.

Driving out he doesn’t even notice the melted company sign at the entrance.

Automatic pilot home, as on so many other days of his life. It’s impossible to believe this is the last one. Traffic is a lot better this time of day. The only real clog is at the Laguna Freeway-Santa Ana Freeway interchange. On the way up Redhill the streets look empty and wrongly lit, like a bad movie set of the city. Same with Morningside, and his house.

Lucy is out. At the church. Dennis sits down at the kitchen table. Funny how not once during the struggle for the Stormbee program did it occur to him that he was fighting for his job. He thought he was only fighting for the program.…

He sits at the kitchen table and looks dully at the salt and pepper shakers. He’s numb; he even knows he’s numb. But that’s how he feels. Just go with your feelings, Lucy always says. Fine. Time to get behind some deep shock, here. Dive full into numbness.

It was nice the way he was able to walk out on Lemon at last. Just like he always wanted to. What could they possibly have in mind moving the Ball Lightning program to Florida? It’ll just screw up the work they were doing on the phased array; and if they had gotten that working right—

But no. He laughs shortly. A habit of mind. Working on the problems at home, in reveries around this table.

What will he think about now?

He solves the problem by not thinking anything.

Lucy comes home. He tells her about it. She sits down abruptly.

He glances up from the table, gives her a look: well? That’s that—nothing to be done. She reaches across the table and puts her hand on his. Amazing how extensive the private language of an old married couple can be.

“You’ll get another job.”