Eventually, however, the span of time set for making contact, one month, reached its end. The last hour of the last day went past without anyone showing up. Soviet intelligence did not mourn, tear their hair out, or sprinkle their heads with ashes, though it was of course a pity that things had not worked out.
In spite of their high hopes being dashed, the sun still shone, and a rich scent of herbs and fine cooking still came from the restaurant’s kitchen. At the nearby and more distant piers alike, boats still moored and unmoored, yachts sailed across the bay, throngs of people enjoyed Pier 39. The sky did not fall, the end of the world did not come, mankind successfully continued to grow and remained on the path of progress.
When the attaché seated at the distant table saw that time wa
