At the end of the week, Puck felt his life draining from him, as by now he knew he would. He knew that as he lay dying, Mr. Bernard Dworksy would break into his apartment and watch his final moments. The thought terrified and disgusted him, but he had no control over it. He had done all he could. He had left a hidden message that he was sure his successor would understand, better than he had understood the warning his predecessor had left for him.
With these thoughts the only thing left to comfort him, Puck lay down for the last time in his own bed. He couldn’t sleep but he trusted the plan they had developed. The only hope for the survival of his race was not to let Dworsky know that they knew who they were. He had to act normally, as if he weren’t going to die. But sleep was impossible.
He lay silently in the dark and heard the door to his apartment open. Footsteps crept slowly across his living room toward his open bedroom door. Pretending to sleep, he saw a figure through his eyelashes. A frumpy man stood in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded across his chest.
Puck wanted to jump up and attack him, take the satisfaction of watching Dworsky die instead of the other way around. It was only through a supreme effort of self-control, and the knowledge that his true survival depended on the survival of Dworsky, that he lay still in his bed. He lay there, prepared to die, in the view of this odious man, so that his successor and others of his species could live…