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And as the rage and hatred mounted up in him he felt-suddenly—a great change. This time it was unmistakable, though thewhy of it was as unanswerable as thewhy of the other, earlier change. Or thehow. And with the change descended a great calm. Strangely, he now felt better. Different, certainly, but better. I dont know. And then of course there isUbu Roi, by that spectacular scatologist, surrealist, speculative philosopher, and pataphysical scientist Alfred Jarry.Ubu isin. He took a sip at his acorn coffee to steady his nerves. When he put his cup down, she said, "Mr. Trevnik?" "Self-contained," explained An. "The only thing needed to keep the whole thing going is light. Just about any frequency will do, except way up on the blue end. And the shell cuts that out." Andrews, ah, Andrews, youre a sensible lad. Now you’ve just become a man and learned all about it. How d’you like it? Darling must have heard it from a set near by, because he rushed at the youths and banged two of their heads together. Other people kicked and punched at them, and they turned and ran for their lives. Oh, absolutely, the secretary assured him. I see to that myself. No one disturbs him. He thought hed have more time, but New York is very eager to have him return immediately, and he’s having to work twice as hard. It’s a great event in his life, of course. But he’s very happy you’re here. He’s often spoken of you to me. You knew him when he was still doing figurative work, I believe. Yes, Mr. Sarfatti enjoys talking about his artistic beginnings,” the secretary chatted on. “Apparently one of his works is in the collection of the American Folklore Museum, in Brooklyn. A statue called Big Bill Sugar.’ “ Patricks face was a blank. "How about Neol'?" There were several buildings, all whitewashed and well-kept. The main house was surprisingly large and elaborate for the delta country, two stories of wood and stone with a galleried porch in front. As soon as he reined up in a broad wagonyard, the front door opened and a burly fellow wearing a butternut coat over gray twill trousers came out and down the steps. Off they went to the ocean. The water was chilly but welcoming. They swam and splashed. Monica, lips wetter than ever, got hungry and thirsty. Jay, dripping puddles, pushed back his hair. He peed. Gauck never drank, never went out, never received mail, never sent mail, never spoke a spontaneous word. He was rude, never kind, never friendly, never really withdrawn: He couldnt withdraw any more than the constant withdrawal of all his life. You find me one. Im coming back for it. The tall man was wandering among the gliders, touching their wings with a sculptors hand. His morose eyes were set in a face like a bored Gaugins. He glanced at the plaster on my leg and my faded flying jacket, and gestured at the gliders. "You've given a cockpit to them, major." The remark contained a complete understanding of my motives. He pointed to the coral towers rising above us into the evening sky. "With silver iodide we could carve the clouds." "Really," he said, almost defensively. "Its all right. The next quay is as far as I go." The first time I read Day at the Beach was in one of these workshop sessions. After that, I just waited for someone to print it first, so I could next….* * * * Highly welcome was the publication in America of the three British Broadcasting Corporation TV-plays by Nigel Kneale(The Quatermass Experiment, Quatermass II andQuatermass and the Pit). which demonstrate, in a manner unknown to American TV and films, that mass-appeal s-f can still be literate and intelligently exciting..