He had never thought there might be others left on Mars. In the entire week he had seen no one. He had figured that all other towns were as empty as this one.
Now, staring at this terrible little black phone, he trembled. Interlocking dial systems connected every town on Mars. From which of thirty cities had the call come?
He didn‘t know.
He waited. He wandered to the strange kitchen, thawed some iced huckleberries, and ate them disconsolately. "There wasn‘t anyone on the other end of that call," he murmured. "Maybe a pole blew down somewhere and the phone rang by itself."
But hadn‘t he heard a click, which meant someone had hung up far away?
He stood in the hall the rest of the night. "Not because of the phone," he told himself. "I just haven‘t anything else to do."
He listened to his watch tick.
"She won‘t phone back," he said. "She won‘t ever call a number that didn‘t answer. She‘s probably dialing other houses in town right now! And here I sit — Wait a minute!" He laughed. "Why do I keep saying ‘she’?"
He walked out of the house and stood in the centre of the early, dim morning street.
He listened. Not a sound. No birds. No cars. Only his heart beating. Beat and pause and beat again. His face ached with strain. The wind blew gently, oh so gently, flapping his coat.
"Sh," he whispered. "Listen."
He swayed in a slow circle, turning his head from one silent house to another.
She’ll phone more and more numbers, he thought. It must be a woman. Why? Only a woman would call and call. A man wouldn‘t. A man‘s independent. Did I phone anyone? No! Never thought of it. It must be a woman. It has to be, by God!