That afternoon, Hastings and Simms sat on a large rock by the village pool, watching children splash and play in the clear water. Simms ate an exotic green fruit, while Hastings smoked a cigarette and talked.

"...so I figure four of our big choppers ought to do the job nicely. What do you think?"

"Yeah," said Simms, absently.

"Of course, Mr. Monk and his friends insist those discs are solid silver, but I don't think we need to worry about that."

"You don't think they are?"

Hastings shook his head. "Not a chance. These guys wouldn't be able to budge 'em if they were. Hell, even we'd have a tough time of it. Besides, where do you think they'd get that much silver?"

Simms nodded. "So you really think they could move those things?"

"Oh, sure, they could move 'em, with a little ingenuity. Just like those fanatics on Easter Island moved their fifty-ton statues uphill for five miles, without so much as a roller in sight. Sure, they could do it, all right. You'd be surprised what these primitives can do when they put their minds to it."

"Yeah," said Simms. "Yeah." He took another bite of fruit. It was tangy.

"Hastings, listen," he said suddenly. "Sung-Hoi was right about that number he gave us. I figured it out. It would take a million years for them to get to where they are now."

Hastings looked at Simms with an odd smile, part laughing, part contempt.

"C'mon, kid, you don't really take these guys seriously, do you? The Eternal One? God-towers? Move these discs from here to here and the world's going to go phffffft, out like a light? Don't let this crazy jungle heat get to your head, boy." He flicked his cigarette butt into the pool, where it floated and bobbed on the surface. "A million years? These people haven't been out here for a million years, and you know it."

Simms shifted uncomfortably. "Well, okay, but... where'd those towers come from, then? They couldn't build them themselves, could they?"

"Oh, you don't think so, huh? I'll tell you what - you take a trip out to Giza and stand next to one of those pyramids, and then we'll talk, okay? Ever take a good hard look at the Great Wall of China, my friend? Yes? And you still have trouble believing a few measly spires and a handful of discs?"

Simms kicked his heel against the rock and said nothing.

"I'll tell you what happens, kiddo. You stick a bunch of people out in the desert, or in the jungle somewhere, and they go a little nuts after a while, start building pyramids, or statues, or towers of giant silver discs, maybe. And a few generations later, no one remembers where the hell this stuff came from - but you've got to tell the kids something, right? And those kids grow up to be adults... and here they are, Simms." He waved his arms at the surrounding huts. "Now, what's so hard to believe about that?"

"Naw," he continued, "I'll tell you what's hard to believe. What's hard to believe is how rich we're both going to be after we've finished this little job..."

Hastings went on like this for a long time, but Simms didn't hear him. He was looking off through the jungle to where those silent towers stood, waiting.

When the Eternal One comes, he heard the priest say, the world will end.