“Ned...” said his reflection, “You’ve done your bit to try and change the world. Maybe it’s time to hang up your marching boots and let the youngsters have their day...”

Ned remembered the sit-ins, the hunger strikes, all those cold, wet marches... But what had they really achieved? Had anything really changed? God damn it, does anyone really care anymore?

Feeling his chest tighten, Ned found his inhaler and sucked in twice the recommended dose. Ralph’s voice surfaced in his mind:
“At what price peace?...”
“Yeah,” wheezed Ned, “At what price indeed.”

He was tired, tired of fighting ‘them’ and losing. He had taken a lot of hits over the years, and ‘they’ had never knocked him down. But he wasn’t as strong as he used to be. Maybe it was time to retire? He deserved a little peace and quiet of his own...
“I figured it would be nice and peaceful, to be able to just turn the volume off...”

Why not, thought Ned,
“Why not...”

He closed his eyes, took out his hearing-aids, and plunged deep into silence. He held his breath and listened. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a feint hiss, a week signal from some distant outpost. It sounded almost like music, a children’s lullaby, simple, beautiful...

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