THE PEDESTRIAN On misty November evenings Leonard Mead would leave
his house for lonely walks through the silent city. With his
hands in the pockets, he made his way very carefully try-
ing not to step over a blade of grass. He would stand up-
on a street corner and look down long moonlit roads, decid-
ing which way to go. But it really made no difference. He
seemed to be alone in this world of 2053 A.D.
Sometimes Leonard would walk for hours and miles
and return only at midnight. And on his way he would
see the houses with their dark windows, and he seemed
to be walking through a graveyard. Sudden grey ghosts
happened to appear behind the dark curtains. He would stop, listen, look, and go on, his feet making no noise.