Scribble habitual girl
"Hi, there," Jay said. She did not stir until the sound of a moving car faded into nothingness. Then, breathless with eagerness, she climbed the four flights of steps to the tower. It made no difference who shared it with her—the youth of the portrait or- the gnome of her hallucination. She even liked to think that the latter was beside her, that the sorrows of the world ceased to be reflected in his eyes as they led the way, while hers followed, to the land of fulfilled desires.* * * * "Its not that simple, Con. There— was — thereis— something there, some kind of elemental force. Its a being, an intelligent being. And powerful, in strange ways. It can ... alter the laws of chemistry and physics. I got it to increase the yield of terpineol — 'Neol'. At first, by about ten per cent. Then another ten per cent. It was easy. And then last night we started up the pilot plant. We ran the C-10 through first, cold, just to flush the lines and check the flowmeters. We got the ozonator tied in about midnight. Now you understand the ozone won't start reacting with the C-10 until you hit about one sixty F., and we'd planned to turn steam into the jacket after the ozone concentration had built up to about five per cent. But the reactor began to warm up. It hit one sixty in a matter of seconds. The two technicians on shift were scared. They ran over behind the explosion mat. I stayed put. I knew what was going on.He was doing it. I wanted to know how far he could push it. I shunted the C-10 through the flowmeter. I switched in the product receiver. It took about thirty minutes to feed one pound mole of C-10 ... exactly one hundred and thirty pounds. I shut everything off. I had been watching the product scales all along, so I knew what it was going to be. It was one hundred fifty-four pounds, one pound mole of Neol, exactly. Yield: one hundred per cent of theory. Mr. Barone! I shouted. That will be enough!” I remembered the dash. It was an uneasy joke, a fill-in for that cough. Goldenwhat? People had already started to feel uncomfortable. Then it went past joking and back to just golden. If thats what you called me down here— Thats part of it, Philip Hardacre said. There was that although there was much more, the freedom out there and the stars against the black and the men small in their suits and afraid and yet not afraid and even the xeeb small in the vastness and the cool joy if the xeeb was a good one. We use pit traps, Muller explained. Any other kindd be no good in this kind of country. They caught a lot of em, a couple hundred years ago. Not any more.” Three fishing smacks had arrived on the scene and with keels raised remained a quarter of a mile offshore, the crews watching from the bows. Their discretion deterred the spectators on the shore from wading out across the sand. Impatiently everyone stepped down from the dunes and waited on the single slopes, eager for a closer view. Around the margins of the figure the sand had been washed away, forming a hollow, as if the giant had fallen out of the sky. The two fishermen were standing between the immense plinths of the feet, waving to us like tourists among the columns of some water-lapped temple on the Nile. For a moment I feared that the giant was merely asleep and might suddenly stir and clap his heels together, but his glazed eyes stared skyward, unaware of the minuscule replicas of himself between his feet. Tell that to my right eye. Its been pining for the left one for more’n thirty years. Damned Reb shot it out at Antietam. Its still hard for me to understand your people’s obsession with security. Security of position, ancestry or posterity. How is it possible to differentiate so jealously between one child and another because of a biological relation or the lack of it? "No, but I would gladly sink under you." She wants to SING. Itll have to be a one-way, not a mutual, I said. I don’t have twenty-five bucks to spare.” The tunnels twisted around him crazily, shapelessly. A man was a fool to keep trying. He might spend days in this place. Why, he could starve!Yes! YES! Hitchcock cried. “Where are you?” Why couldnt we bring an old tractor up here in pieces and put it together and fix it up and find oil and … (I try to explain for the fifty-millionth time that you do not simply fix up” something which is the outgrowth of an enormous Organization of interdependent Organizations, the fruit of a dead tree, as it were. The wheel will not be turned back. The kid distrusts abstractions and generalities, and I don’t blame him, but God I’m tired!) “Let’s just clear off this corner by the olive tree, Chris, and then we’ll knock off for the day.”.
