"Exactly. There is a chance that our nervous systems are capable of a euphoric way of integrating life stimuli."

"And death," said Scott.

"Right," said Nathan. "It takes everything the young people talk about--acceptance, giving, doing, you know everything, not just one cliche but a spirit. It's all of them. It's creative thoughtlessness. It's . . . "

"Tautological" offered Scott and Nathan became depressed. "Maybe faith," he added, thinking about New England.

"In what" asked Nathan.

"In nothing," answered Scott. "In a fecund nothingness. Don't be afraid."

"Yeh, not to be afraid," mused Nathan.

Several meetings and similar discussions later, Scott allowed a brooding expression to drift across his delicate features long enough for Nathan to ask what was wrong.

"I've decided to tell you a secret, Nathan," he said. "I'm growing a pumpkin; Perhaps I shall become a farmer. Maybe you can talk with me about my decision. 'I've always had messianic tendencies and, consequently, I need you to reassure me that, by becoming a farmer, I'm not in any way retreating from a beneficial involvement in the destiny of my species. Am I a coward Nathan?"

Nathan's face darkened. He seemed suddenly older. Scott lowered his head in the poignant silence. He spoke into his empty, neon-reflecting beer glass.

"Please don't answer me right now Nathan. Give it some thought. I've thought about it for some time, a long time, until finally thinking has bitten its own tail and I must act. I must do what I feel. I am lost Nathan."

Nathan's ponderous visage came alive.

"You said that nicely, Scott,' he said.

"Thanks old buddy." Nathan motioned for the waitress. Scott was feeling empty. He had meant to say what he said tongue in check. But it hadn't worked. He grew bitter while Nathan talked.

"Scott I think your life as an entirely does more to effect the destiny of your species than any specific thing you do outside yourself. If you are happy being a farmer you will do more good than being an unhappy president. Create happiness, Scott. To create happiness it must have a solid constant foundation in yourself before you can help the species be happy. All else is a confusion and death. Our symbolic means of communication sprang from confusion, not peace. I think symbols often create further chaos. Think of the Neanderthal. Communication by lovely wave-lengths and perhaps, as you mentioned, faith. No fear, no chaos. Perhaps it works that way." His voice trailed off.