And, after all, he said, weren’t there already countless children in the world desperate for protection from already existing threats? Weren’t there millions upon millions of people suffering from various humanitarian crises that millions upon millions of other people simply chose to forget? Why could we not turn our attention to the teeming sufferers already in our midst?

And here, perhaps, was a last chance for us to redeem ourselves, the man raised his voice to say. The only moral, meaningful course for a civilization facing its own end: To learn how to ask forgiveness and to atone in some tiny measure for the devastating harm we had done to our human family and to our fellow creatures and to the beautiful earth. To love and forgive one another as best we could. And to learn how to say goodbye.

The man took his iPad from the lectern and walked swiftly backstage. You could hear from the rhythm of the clapping that people were confused. Was that it? Was he coming back? But it was the woman who had introduced him who now reappeared on the podium, thanked everyone for coming, and wished us all good night.

And then we were on our feet and moving herdishly out of the auditorium, spilling out of the building, into the crisp night air. Which, in spite of it being so far one of the warmest years on record, was, just now, the perfect seasonable temperature for that month in that part of the world.

I need a drink, a voice near me said. To which: Me too!

There was a subdued aura about the departing crowd. Some people looked dazed and were silent. Others remarked on the lack of a Q&A. That’s so arrogant, said one. Maybe he was miffed because it wasn’t a full house, said another.

I heard: What a bore.

And: It was your idea to come to this thing, not mine.

An elderly man at the center of a knot of other elderly people was making them all laugh. Oy! It’s over, it’s over, it’s ohhhh-ver. I thought it was Roy Orbison up there.

I heard: Melodramatic . . . Irresponsible.

And: Totally right, every word.

And (furiously): Will you please tell me, what was the fucking point?

I quickened my pace, leaving the crowd behind, but walking almost in step with me was a man I recognized from the audience. He was wearing a dark suit, running shoes, and a baseball cap. He was alone, and as he walked he was whistling, of all tunes, “My Favorite Things.”