Man of the World by Robert Gibson

epilogue

I, Jolld, now nicknamed “records man”, having successfully scrounged for pen and paper and a magnifier among the relics of the old Wide World in order to enable me to write and read in this Glimmer-Place, can be sure of as much opportunity as I'll ever need to note the murmurs and whispers of us Wakeful few.
    These my fellows are so sodden with contemplation most of the time that they might as well be Drowsers, yet occasionally they do blink into alertness, become restless, even irritated, shuffle and peer about as if waiting for dawn.  During such bouts of restlessness I can sometimes hear them express the ideas that rattle around in their minds, and am moved likewise to express my own.
    “Look at Jolld Tontrar," they sometimes say; "look at his heap of scribbles. Hey, give us a story, will you, records-man?”
    They don’t usually insist if I ignore them, but sometimes I am willing to answer them because I find that my jottings have given me something to say.
    On such occasions, I notice more and more that they enjoy it when I tell them stories about Discoverer Midax Rale, whom I used to know slightly in the lost lit world of Everyday. 
    I have lately struck a vein of ideas about that man.  According to one of these speculations he has gone on a voyage to explore the Silver Stain, in order (somehow) to bring us news of another world, a bright world.
    I see smiles in the dimness as I spin these yarns which none of us can literally believe. The mere telling of tales about Midax seems to rouse a glow in our hearts.  It is the light of hope as it might be glimpsed through a slightly opened door, for that is what the Discoverer has done for us: he has left the door to our future ajar.

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