«See it? There! The city! Way over! That green city near the lake! It's splitting in half. It's falling!»
The men squinted and shuffled forward.
Smith stood trembling among them. He put his hand to his head as if to find a thought there. «I remember. Yes, now I do. A long time back. When I was a child. A book I read. A story. Oz, I think it was. Yes, Oz. The Emerald City of Oz…»
«Oz? Never heard of it.»
«Yes, Oz, that's what it was. I saw it just now, like in the story. I saw it fall.»
«Smith!»
«Yes, sir?»
«Report for psychoanalysis tomorrow.»
«Yes, sir!» A brisk salute.
«Be careful.»
The men tiptoed, guns alert, beyond the ship's aseptic light to gaze at the long sea and the low hills.
«Why,» whispered Smith, disappointed, «there's no one here at all, is there? No one here at all.»
The wind blew sand over his shoes, whining.