“But tell me something,” I said. “Before we stop, don’t you want to jolt me out of this body and go into it? I mean, just to see what it’s like?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t.”

“But aren’t you curious?” I asked him. “Don’t you want to know … ”

I could see that I was taxing his patience.

“Look, the real truth is, we don’t have time for that experience. And maybe I don’t want to know. I can remember my youth well enough. Too well, in fact. We aren’t playing little games here. You can make the assault now. That’s what counts.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost three. We’ll have some supper and then we’ll sleep. We’ve a full day ahead, exploring the ship and confirming our plans. We must be rested and in full control of our faculties. Come, let’s see what we can rustle up in the way of food or drink.”

We went outside and along the walk until we reached the little kitchen—a funny, damp, and somewhat cluttered room. The kindly proprietor had left two plates for us in the rusted, groaning refrigerator, along with a bottle of white wine. We sat down at the table and commenced to devour every morsel of rice, yams, and spiced meat, not caring at all that it was very cold.

“Can you read my thoughts?” I asked, after I’d consumed two glasses of wine.

“Nothing, you’ve got the trick.”

“So how do I do it in my sleep? The Queen Elizabeth 2 can’t be more than a hundred miles out now. She’s to dock in two hours.”

“Same way you do it when you’re awake. You shut down. You close up. Because, you see, no one is ever completely asleep. Not even those in a coma are completely asleep. Will is always operative. And will is what this is about.”

I looked at him as we sat there. He was obviously tired, but he did not look haggard or in any way debilitated. His thick dark hair obviously added to the impression of vigor; and his large dark eyes had the same fierce light in them which they always had.

I finished quickly, shoved the dishes into the sink, and went out on the beach without bothering to say what I meant to do. I knew he would say we had to rest now, and I didn’t want to be deprived of this last night as a human being under the stars.

Going down to the lip of the water, I peeled off the cotton clothes, and went into the waves. They were cool but inviting, and then I stretched out my arms and began to swim. It was not easy, of course. But it wasn’t hard either, once I resigned myself to the fact that humans did it this way—stroke by stroke against the force of the water, and letting the water buoy the cumbersome body, which it was entirely willing to do.