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rioting, presumably across the country, as unemployment increased because

of power cuts.

Amid it all, GSP & L's former critics and opponents were strangely si-

lent.

Finally at the press conference, somebody asked, "What's your advice to

people, Mr. Goldman?"

Nim grinned weakly. "Switch off everything you don't need to survive."

It was about two hours later, shortly after 6 P.m., when Nim returned to

his office.

He told Vicki, who was working late-it was getting to be a habit"Call

Redwood Grove Hospital and ask to speak to Miss Sloan."

She buzzed him a few minutes later. "The hospital says they have no Miss

Sloan registered."

Surprised, he queried, "Are they sure?"

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"I asked them to make sure, and they checked twice for me."

"Then try her home number." He knew that Vicki bad it, though he found

it bard to believe that Karen would not have left her apartment for the

hospital.

This time, instead of buzzing, Vicki opened his office door and came in.

Her face was serious.

"Mr. Goldman," she said, "I think you'd better take this call."

Puzzled, be picked up the phone. "Is that you, Karen?"

A choked voice said, "Ninirod, this is Cynthia. Karen is dead."

"Can't we go any faster?" Nim asked the driver.

"I'm doing my best, Mr. Goldman." The man's voice was reproachful.

"There's a lot of traffic, and more people than usual on the streets."

Nim had ordered a company car and chauffeur to be at the main doorway,

rather than lose time getting his Fiat and driving himself. He arrived

on the run and had given the address of Karen's apartment building. They

were on the way there.

Nim's thoughts were in turmoil. He had obtained no details from Cynthia,

only the bare fact that the power cut had been responsible for Karen's

death. Nim already blamed himself-for failing to follow through, for not

checking sooner to be sure Karen had gone to Redwood Grove.

Though knowing it was too late, he burned with impatiencc to arrive.

As a diversion, looking through the car's windows at the streets in

gathering dusk, he considered what the driver had just said. There were

many more people out than usual. Nim recalled reading about New York City

during blackouts-people came out-of-doors in droves but, when asked, few

knew why. Perhaps they were seeking instinctively to share adversity with

their neighbors.

Others, of course, had taken to the New York streets to break the law,

and burn, and plunder. Maybe, as time went on, both things would happen

here.

Whether they did or didn't, Nim thought, one thing was certain: Patterns

of life were changing significantly, and would change still more.

The city's lights were either on or coming on. Soon, the few remaining

pockets without power would have theirs restored too.

Until tomorrow.

And the day after.

And, after that, who knew how prolonged or drastic the departure from

normal life would be?

396

"Here you are, Mr. Goldman," the driver announced. They were at Karen's

apartment building.

Nim said, "Please wait."

"You can't come in," Cynthia said. "Not now. It's too awful."

She had come out into the corridor when Nim arrived at the apartment,

closing the door behind her. While the door was briefly open, Nim could

hear someone inside having hysterics-it sounded like Henrietta Sloan-and a

wailing which he thought was from josic. Cynthia's eyes were red.

She told him as much as she knew about the series of misfortunes which

added up to Karen's terrible, lonely death. Nim started to say what he bad

already thought, about blaming himself, when Cynthia stopped him.

"No! Whatever the rest of us did or didn't do, Nimrod, no one in a long

time did as much for Karen as you. She wouldn't want you to feel guilt or

blame yourself. She even left something for you. Wait!"

Cynthia went back inside and returned with a single sheet of blue

stationery. "This was in Karen's typewriter. She always took a long time

with anything like this and was probably working on it before . . . before

. . ." Her voice choked; she shook her head, unable to finish.

"Thank you." Nim folded the sheet and put it in an inside pocket. "Is there

anything at all I can do?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Not now." Then, as he started to leave, she asked,

"Nimrod, will I see you again?"

He stopped. It was a clear and obvious invitation, just as be remembered

the same invitation once before.

"Oh Christ, Cynthia," Nim said. "I don't know."

The damnable thing was, be thought, he wanted Cynthia, who was warm and

beautiful and eager to give love. Wanted her, despite his reconciliation

with Ruth, despite loving Ruth devotedly.

"If you need me, Nimrod," Cynthia said, "you know where I am."

He nodded as he turned away.

In the car, going back to GSP & L headquarters, Nim took out, and unfolded,

the sheet of Karen's familiar stationery which Cynthia had given him.

Holding it under a dome light, he read:

Is it so strange, my dearest Nimrod, That lights should be

extinguished? Rush lights have failed; All fires that men have

started Burn low, and die.

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Yet light, like life, survives:

The meanest gleam, a flaming brand,

Each holds a

What did they hold? he wondered. What last sweet, loving thought of

Karen's would he never know?

20

A rollaway bed had been brought into Nim's office. It was there when be

returned, made up with sheets, a blanket and a pillow, as he had asked for

it to be.

Vicki had gone home.

Thoughts of Karen still filled his mind. Despite Cynthia's words, his sense

of guilt persisted. It was a guilt, not only for himself, but for GSP&L, of

which he was a part, and which had failed her. In modern life, electricity

had become a lifeline-for those like Karen, literallyand it should not be

broken, no matter what the cause. Reliability of service was, above all,

the first duty, a near-sacred trust, of any public utility like GSP & L.

And yet the lifeline would be broken-tragically, sadly, in a sense

needlessly-again and again, beginning with tomorrow. Nim was sure that as

rolling blackouts continued, there would be other losses and hardships,

many unforeseen.

Would he ever shake off his guilt about Karen, he wondered? In time,

perhaps, but not yet.

. Nim wished there were someone be could talk to at this moment, in whom he

could confide. But he had not told Ruth about Karen, and couldn't now.

He sat at his desk and put his face in his hands. After a while, be knew he

must do something which would divert him mentally. For an hour or two, at

least.

The events of the day-trauma piled on trauma-bad prevented him from dealing

with the accumulated papers on his desk. If be failed to clear some of them

tonight, be knew there would be twice as many tomorrow. But as much for

mental relief as any other reason, he settled down to work.

He had been concentrating for ten minutes when he heard the telephone in

the outer office ring. He answered it on his extension.

"I'll bet," Teresa Van Buren's voice said, "you thought you were through

being the company's mouthpiece for today."

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"Since you mention it, Tess," he told her, "the idea had occurred to me."

The p.r. director chuckled. "The press never sleeps; more's the pity. I

have two people over here who'd like to see you. One is AP, who has some

supplementary questions for a national story on our rolling blackouts.

The other is Nancy Molineaux, who won't say what the bell she wants, but

wants something. How about it?"

Nim sighed. "Okay, bring them over."

There were moments-this was one-wben he regretted the defection and

departure of Mr. justice Yale.

"I won't stay," the p.r. director said a few minutes later. She intro-

duced AP, an elderly male reporter with rheumy eyes and a smoker's cough.

Nancy Molineaux had elected to wait in the outer office until AP was

through.

The wire service man's questions were professional and thorough and he

scribbled Nim's answers, in his own version of shorthand, on a batch of

copy paper. When they bad finished, be got up to go and asked, "Shall I

send the doll in?"

"Yes, please."

Nim heard the outer door close, then Nancy entered.

"Hil" she said.

As usual, she was stylishly, though simply, dressed-tonigbt in a silk

shirtwaist dress, coral-colored, a perfect complement to her flawless

black skin. Her handsome, bigh-cheekboned face seemed to have lost

some-tbougb not all-of its haughtiness, Nim thought, perhaps because she

bad been friendlier, ever since their meeting in the Christopher Columbus

Hotel, and the shattering events which followed it.

She sat down opposite him, crossing her long, shapely legs. Nim regarded

them briefly, then looked away.

"Hi!" be acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"

"There's this." She got up and placed a long strip of paper on the desk

in front of him. He saw it was a carbon copy of a teletype.

"It's a story that just broke," Nancy said. "Tbe morning papers will have

it. We'd like to develop it with some comments-yours for onefor the

afternoon."

Swinging his chair to where the light was better, Nim said, "Let me read

this."

"Be bard to comment if you don't," she said lazily. "Take your time."

He scanned the news story quickly, then went back to the beginning and

studied it carefully.

WASHINGTON, D.C., MAY 3-rN A DRAMATIC MOVE TO RESOLVE THE CURRENT

OIL CRISIS, THE UNITED STATES IS TO ISSUE A NEW CURRENCY, TO BE

KNOWN AS THE NEW DOLLAR. IT WILL BE BACKED BY GOLD AND BE WORTH TEN

EXISTING DOLLARS.

399

THE PRESIDENT WILL ANNOUNCE THE NEW DOLLAR AT A WHITE HOUSE PRESS

CONFERENCE TOMORROW AFTERNOON.

SOME WASHINGTON OFFICIALS HAVE ALREADY DUBBED THE NEW CURRENCY "THE

HONEST DOLLAR."

THE OIL EXPORTING NATIONS OF OPEC WILL BE ASKED TO ACCEPT PAYMENT FOR

THEIR OIL IN NEW DOLLARS, WITH PRICEADJUSTMENTS TO BE NEGOTIATED.

INITIAL OPEC REACTION HAS BEEN CAUTIOUSLY FAVORABLE. HOWEVER, OPEC

SPOKESMAN SHEIK AHMED MUSAED STATED THAT AN INDEPENDENT AUDIT OF UNITED

STATES GOLD WOULD BE SOUGHT BEFORE ANY AGREEMENT BASED ON THE NEW

DOLLAR COULD BE CONCLUDED.

11 WE WOULD NOT GO SO FAR AS TO SUGGEST THAT THE UNITED STATES HAS LIED

ABOUT ITS GOLD RESERVES," SHEIK MUSAED TOLD REPORTERS TONIGHT IN PARIS,

"BUT THERE HAVE BEEN PERSISTENT RUMORS, WHICH CANNOT BE BRUSHED ASIDE

LIGHTLY, THAT THEY ARE NOT AS LARGE AS OFFICIALLY STATED. THEREFORE WE

WISH TO MAKE SURE THAT COLD BACKING OF THE NEW DOLLAR IS REAL AND NOT

ILLUSORY."

THE PRESIDENT IS EXPECTED TO INFORM AMERICANS THAT THEY CAN ACQUIRE NEW

DOLLARS BY SURRENDERING THEIR OLD DOLLARS AT THE RATE OF TEN TO ONE.

THE CHANGE WILL BE VOLUNTARY AT FIRST BUT, UNDER PROPOSED LEGISLATION,