about his quitting early, for all had guessed?or known?as well as he. You could not always tell, of course, for the foresight ability was more pronounced in some than it was in others, although the lag in even the least efficient of them would not be more than a quarter-hour at most.
He'd often wished he could understand how it had been brought about, but there were factors involved he could not even remotely grasp. He knew the story, of course, for he could remember the night that it had happened and the excitement there had been?and the consternation. But knowing how it came about and the reason for it was quite a different thing from understanding it.
It had been an ace in the hole, a move of desperation to be used only as a last resort. The nation had been ready for a long time with the transmitters all set up and no one asking any questions because everyone had taken it for granted they were a part of the radar network and, in that case, the less said of them the better.
No one had wanted to use those transmitters, or at least that had been the official explanation after they'd been used?but anything was better than another war.
So the time had come, the time of last resort, the day of desperation, and the switches had been flicked, blanketing the nation with radiations that did something to the brain 'stimulating latent abilities' was as close a general explanation as anyone had made?and all at once everyone had been able to see twenty-four hours ahead. There'd been hell to pay, of course, for quite a little while, but after a time it simmered down and the people settled down to make the best of it, to adapt and live with their strange new ability.
The President had gone on television to tell the world what had happened and he had warned potential enemies that we'd know twenty-four hours ahead of time exactly what they'd do.
In consequence of which they did exactly nothing except to undo a number of incriminating moves they had already made?some of which the President had foretold that they would undo, naming the hour and place and the manner of their action. He had said the process was no secret and that other nations were welcome to the know- how if they wanted it, although it made but little difference if they did or not, for the radiations in time would spread throughout the entire world and would affect all people. It was a permanent change, he said, for the ability was inheritable and would be passed on from one generation to the next, and never again, for good or evil, would the human race be blind as it had been in the past.
So finally there had been peace, but there'd been a price to pay. Although, perhaps, not too great a price, Williams told himself. He'd liked baseball, he recalled, and there could be no baseball now, for it was a pointless thing to play a game the outcome of which you'd know a day ahead of time. He had liked to have the boys in occasionally for a round of poker?but poker was just as pointless now and as impossible as baseball or football or horse racing or any other sport.
There had been many changes, some of them quite awkward.
Take newspapers, for example, and radio and television reporting of the news. Political tactics had been forced to undergo a change, somewhat for the better, and gambling and crime had largely disappeared.
Mostly, it had been for the best. Although even some of the best was a little hard at first?and some of it would take a long time to become completely accustomed to.
Take his own situation now, he thought.
A lot more civilized than in the old days, but still fairly hard to take. Hard especially on Florence and the children, forcing them into a new and strange attitude that in time would harden into custom and tradition, but now was merely something new and strange. But Florence was standing up to it admirably, he thought. They'd often talked of it, especially in these last few years, and they had agreed that no matter which of them it was they would keep it calm and dignified, for that was the only way to face it. It was one of the payments that you made for peace, although sometimes it was a little hard to look at it that way.
But there were certain compensations. Florence and he could have a long talk before the children arrived. There'd be a chance to go over certain final details?finances and insurance and other matters of like nature. Under the old way there would have been, he told himself, no chance at all for that.
There'd be the opportunity to do all the little worthwhile things, all the final sentimental gestures, that except for the foresight ability would have been denied.
There'd be talk with the children and the neighbours bringing things to eat and the big bouquet of flowers the office gang would send?the flowers that under other circumstances he never would have seen. The minister would drop in for a moment and manage to get in a quiet word or two of comfort, all the time making it seem to be no more than a friendly call.
In the morning the mail would bring many little cards and notes of friendship sent by people who wanted him to know they thought of him and would have liked to have been with him if there had been the time. But they would not intrude, for the time that was left was a family time.
The family would sit and talk, remembering the happy days?the dog that Eddie had and the time John had run away from home for an hour or two and the first time Mary had ever had a date and the dress she wore. They'd take out the snapshot albums and look at the pictures, recalling all the days of bitter-sweetness and would know that theirs had been a good life?and especially he would know. And through it all would run the happy clatter of grandchildren playing in the house, climbing up on Granddad's knee to have him tell a story. All so civilized, he thought.
Giving all of them a chance to prove they were civilized.
He'd have to go back inside the house now, for he could hear Florence arranging the flowers in the birthday vase that was blue and gold. And they had so much to say to one another?even after forty years they still had so much to say to one another.
He turned and glanced back at the garden.
Most beautiful flowers, he thought, that they had ever raised.
He'd go out in the morning, when the dew was on them, when they were most beautiful, to bid them all good-bye.
Neighbor
Coon Valley is a pleasant place, but there's no denying it's sort of off the beaten track and it's not a place where you can count on getting rich because the farms are small and a lot of the ground is rough. You can farm the bottom lands, but the hillsides are only good for pasture and the roads are just dirt roads, impassable at certain times of year.
The old-timers, like Bert Smith and Jingo Harris and myself, are well satisfied to stay here, for we grew up with the country and we haven't any illusions about getting rich and we'd feel strange and out-of-place anywhere but in the valley. But there are others, newcomers, who move in and get discouraged after a while and up and move away, so there usually is a farm or two standing idle, waiting to be sold.
We are just plain dirt farmers, with emphasis on the dirt, for we can't afford a lot of fancy machinery and we don't go in for blooded stock?but there's nothing wrong with us; we're just everyday, the kind of people you meet all over these United States. Because we're out of the way and some of the families have lived here for so long, I suppose you could say that we have gotten clannish. But that doesn't mean we don't like outside folks; it just means we've lived so long together that we've got to know and like one another and are satisfied with things just as they are.
We have radios, of course, and we listen to the programmes and the news, and some of us take daily papers, but I'm afraid that we may be a bit provincial, for it's fairly hard to get us stirred up much about world happenings. There's so much of interest right here in the valley we haven't got the time to worry about all those outside things. I imagine you'd call us conservative, for most of us vote Republican without even wondering why and there's none of us who has much time for all this government interference in the farming business.
The valley has always been a pleasant place?not only the land, but the people in it, and we've always been fortunate in the new neighbours that we get. Despite new ones coming in every year or so, we've never had a really bad one and that means a lot to us.
But we always worry a little when one of the new ones up and moves away and we speculate among ourselves, wonderin what kind of people will buy or rent the vacant farm.
The old Lewis farm had been abandoned for a long time, the buildings all run down and gone to ruin and the