Explore "The 13th Immortal" by Robert Silverberg on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When morning finally came, Kesley had long since decided to leave the Colony.
As the first rays of dawn broke, he rose and made his way over the huddling sleepers in the room. Lisa stirred; the poetess had slumped over yawningly more than an hour before. On the floor, between the sleepers, lay remnants of artistic achievement -- strewn manuscripts, curious statuettes, musical scores, musical instruments and such things. Kesley carefully avoided stepping on them. He wanted no contact here.