THREE days after the end of the general quarantine New York had almost returned to normal. The substrips were moving again, the streets and sidewalks clogged with their usual traffic but, over the still-quarantined sections, thin columns of smoke rose towards the sky. The sterilization squads were still at work burning the dead and the condemned buildings. They would be reduced to ash, the sites would be cleared, and new buildings would rear in their place, a permanent memorial to the horror that had struck and passed away.
Sam Falkirk stood at his office window and stared at the columns of smoke, then let his eyes drift over the jagged skyline of the city. Behind him the small sounds of office routine were suddenly broken. He turned as Jelks walked towards him.
“Well, Sam, it’s all over
