Quarter bucket coast
I know, said the other, sympathetically. Its something none of us have ever had to conceive of before. The whole notion of locking up a fellow-being is an abominable one, I’ll admit But for that matter, consider the creature itself!” He stacked the groceries in the corner of the landing, except for the half-thawed pheasant, which he stuffed into his coat pocket, anticipating that his ascent would take him well past his dinner hour. Oh, yes, Mr. Candron! He said you should go on up! She waved a plump hand toward the stairway. It made Mrs. Jesser happy to think that she was the sole controller of the only way, except for the fire escape, that anyone could get to the upper floors of the building. And as long as she thoughtthat, among other things, she was useful to the Society. Someone had to handle the crackpots and lunatic-fringe fanatics that came to the Society, and one of their own kind could do the job better than anyone else. As long as Mrs. Jesser and Mr. Balfour were on duty, the Societys camouflage would remain intact. No, it cant. Yes. by Daniel Keyes And perhaps you understand, too, how interest and enthusiasm on the part of (particularly new, but also established) authors spreads and multiplies around such a focal point. The results do not all show up in NewWorlds (or inImpulse): far from it. The stories that germinate in sessions like these, or on the trip home, are as likely to turn up in the higher-paying American magazines, or in the flourishing British paperback book market. I—Ill tend to it. If I can just come over . . . At first it was uneasiness, not pressing, but pervasive, a contact quite as intimate as that of the sea; you were sheathed in it. And also there was the touch—the cold in-ward contact. Aware of it at last, you laughed: for Petes sake, what’s there to be scared of? Of course theres a switch for the trees, he informed her deflatingly, motioning the robot butler to cut his steak. Didn’t you know they were radio trees? I didn’t want to wait twenty-five years for them and they couldn’t grow in this rock anyway. A station in the city broadcasts amaster pine tree and sets like ours pick it up and project it around homes. It’s vulgar but convenient.” Weisbaum grinned.You didnt break nothing, hillbilly. You just got lucky and hit somewhere on the target. Every time you hit it, they pull it down and mark where your shot hit so you can correct your sights. See, here it comes back up again. Its like the Cap’n says, said the other Sailor. He’s too stupid to make trouble. He’s big outside but he ain’t got no proper brain at all.” The Pre-Third: the period was characterized in Travens mind above all by its moral and psychological inversions, by its sense of the whole of history, and in particular of the immediate future—the two decades, 1945-65—suspended from the quivering volcano’s lip of World War III. Even the death of his wife and six-year-old son in a motor accident seemed only part of this immense synthesis of the historical and psychic zero, the frantic highways where each morning of his life they met their deaths on the advance causeways to the global armageddon.* * * *Third Beach My searchlight made a perverse point of hitting Petes shimmering casket, spread-eagled, seven-eighths submerged, like a man floating on his back. I swung the beam steadily. The opposite wall was smooth except for a few ledges and cracks and there wasn’t any overhang to give a man below cover from someone on top. An illiterate might conceivably, while listing words, write a simple declarative sentence. With luck, he might even hit upon a compound one, perfectly grammatical. But what were the odds against his writing immortal poetry, like:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May? Capable of speech? Yes Yes No No Yes Chico laughed.Not before supper, thanks. Perhaps not. But its of no interest to me..
