To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight o'clock...hands in pockets, through the silences, that was what Mr Leonard Mead most dearly loved to do.
He would stand upon the corner of an intersection and peer down long moonlit avenues of sidewalk in four directions; he was alone in the world of A.D. 2053.
Sometimes he would walk for hours and miles and return only at midnight to his house. Mr. Leonard Mead would pause, cock his head, listen, look, and march on, his feet making no noise on the lumpy sidewalk.
He turned back on a side street, circling around toward his home. He was within a block of his destination when the lone car turned a corner quite suddenly and flashed a fierce white cone of light upon him.