Harlan Ellison, also gone like his friend Ray, but not forgotten. In the story “The Pedestian” by Ray Bradbury it is 2053, and roads have fallen into decay. Mead enjoys walking through the city at night, something which no one else does. “In ten years of walking by night or day, for thousands of miles, he had never met another person walking, not one in all that time.” On one of his usual walks, he encounters a police car, which is possibly robotic. It is the only police unit in a city of three million, since the purpose of law enforcement has disappeared with everyone watching television at night. When asked about his profession, Mead tells the car that he is a writer, but the car does not understand, since no one buys books or magazines in the television-dominated society. Neither the police car nor its occupants can understand why Mead would be out walking for no reason and so decides to take him to the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies. He is forced to get into the car. As the car passes through his neighborhood, Leonard Mead in the locked confines of the back seat says, “That’s my house.” As he points to a house warm and bright with all its lights on unlike all other houses. There is no reply, and the story concludes. It is based on a true incident that happened to Bradbury, and led to Fahrenheit 451, chosen as one of the top 100 American novels ever written. Ray was a mentor, in a way. Answered every letter I wrote him, and even sent me a poem. The Pedestrian is included in the collection The Golden Apples of the Sun.