hard and I might be riding them some
day. I did not bother to tell him that I'm hardly intellectually
deficient and that I'll have my B.A. before I'm old enough to
do anything with it, even join his Corps. I just watched the
ships lift off and said, "Ten years from now I'll be looking
down, not up." Then he told me how hard his own training
had been, so I did not ask howcum he got stuck with a lousy
dirtside assignment like this one. Glad I didn't, now I think
on it. He looked more like one of their ads than one of their
real people. Hope I never look like an ad.
Thank you for the monies and the warm sox and Mo-
zart's String Quintets, which I'm hearing right now. I
wanna put in my bid for Luna instead of Europe next sum-
mer. Maybe-. . . ? Possibly . . . ? Contingently . . . ? Huh?-
lf I can smash that new test you're designing for me . . . ?
Anyhow, please think about it.
Your son,
Pete
"Hello. State Psychiatric Institute."
"I'd like to make an appointment for an examination."
"Just a moment. I'll connect you with the Appointment
Desk."
"Hello. Appointment Desk."
"I'd like to make an appointment for an examination."
"Just a moment . . . What sort of examination?"
"I want to see Doctor Shallot, Eileen Shallot. As soon as
possible."
"Just a moment. I'll have to check her schedule.. . Could you
make it at two o'clock next Tuesday?"
"That would bejust fine."
"What is the name, please?"
"DeViUe. Jill DeVille."
"All right, Miss DeVille. That's two o'clock, Tuesday."
"Thank you."
/
The man walked beside the highway. Cars passed along the
highway. The cars in the high-acceleration lane blurred by.
Traffic was light.
It was 10:30 in the morning, and cold.
The man's fur-lined collar was turned up, his hands were in
his pockets, and he leaned into the wind. Beyond the fence, the
road was clean and dry.
The morning sun was buried in clouds. In the dirty light, the
man could see the tree a quarter mile ahead.
His pace did not change. His eyes did not leave the tree. The
small stones clicked and crunched beneath his shoes.
When he reached the tree he took off his jacket and folded it
neatly.
He placed it upon the ground and climbed the tree.
As he moved out onto the limb which extended over the
fence, he looked to see that no traffic was approaching. Then he
seized the branch with both hands, lowered himself, hung a
moment, and dropped onto the highway.
It was a hundred yards wide, the eastbound half of the
highway.
He glanced west, saw there was still no traffic coming his
way, then began to walk toward the center island. He knew he
would never reach it. At this time of day the cars were moving
at approximately one hundred sixty miles an hour in the high
acceleration lane. He walked on.
A car passed behind him. He did not look back. If the
windows were opaqued, as was usually the case, then the
occupants were unaware he had crossed their path. They
would hear of it later and examine the front end of their vehicle
for possible signs of such an encounter.
A car passed in front of him. Its windows were clear. A
glimpse of two faces, their mouths made into 0's, was
presented to him, then torn from his sight. His own face
remained without expression. His pace did not change. Two
more cars rushed by, windows darkened. He had crossed
perhaps twenty yards of highway.
Twenty-five...
Something in the wind, or beneath his feet, told him it was
coming. He did not look.
Something in the corner of his eye assured him it was
coming. His gait did not alter.
Cecil Green had the windows transpared because he liked it
that way. His left hand was inside her blouse and her skirt was
piled up on her lap, and his right hand was resting on the lever
which would lower the seats. Then she pulled away, making a
noise down inside her throat.
His head snapped to the left.
He saw the walking man.
He saw the profile which never turned to face him fully. He
saw that the man's gait
day. I did not bother to tell him that I'm hardly intellectually
deficient and that I'll have my B.A. before I'm old enough to
do anything with it, even join his Corps. I just watched the
ships lift off and said, "Ten years from now I'll be looking
down, not up." Then he told me how hard his own training
had been, so I did not ask howcum he got stuck with a lousy
dirtside assignment like this one. Glad I didn't, now I think
on it. He looked more like one of their ads than one of their
real people. Hope I never look like an ad.
Thank you for the monies and the warm sox and Mo-
zart's String Quintets, which I'm hearing right now. I
wanna put in my bid for Luna instead of Europe next sum-
mer. Maybe-. . . ? Possibly . . . ? Contingently . . . ? Huh?-
lf I can smash that new test you're designing for me . . . ?
Anyhow, please think about it.
Your son,
Pete
"Hello. State Psychiatric Institute."
"I'd like to make an appointment for an examination."
"Just a moment. I'll connect you with the Appointment
Desk."
"Hello. Appointment Desk."
"I'd like to make an appointment for an examination."
"Just a moment . . . What sort of examination?"
"I want to see Doctor Shallot, Eileen Shallot. As soon as
possible."
"Just a moment. I'll have to check her schedule.. . Could you
make it at two o'clock next Tuesday?"
"That would bejust fine."
"What is the name, please?"
"DeViUe. Jill DeVille."
"All right, Miss DeVille. That's two o'clock, Tuesday."
"Thank you."
/
The man walked beside the highway. Cars passed along the
highway. The cars in the high-acceleration lane blurred by.
Traffic was light.
It was 10:30 in the morning, and cold.
The man's fur-lined collar was turned up, his hands were in
his pockets, and he leaned into the wind. Beyond the fence, the
road was clean and dry.
The morning sun was buried in clouds. In the dirty light, the
man could see the tree a quarter mile ahead.
His pace did not change. His eyes did not leave the tree. The
small stones clicked and crunched beneath his shoes.
When he reached the tree he took off his jacket and folded it
neatly.
He placed it upon the ground and climbed the tree.
As he moved out onto the limb which extended over the
fence, he looked to see that no traffic was approaching. Then he
seized the branch with both hands, lowered himself, hung a
moment, and dropped onto the highway.
It was a hundred yards wide, the eastbound half of the
highway.
He glanced west, saw there was still no traffic coming his
way, then began to walk toward the center island. He knew he
would never reach it. At this time of day the cars were moving
at approximately one hundred sixty miles an hour in the high
acceleration lane. He walked on.
A car passed behind him. He did not look back. If the
windows were opaqued, as was usually the case, then the
occupants were unaware he had crossed their path. They
would hear of it later and examine the front end of their vehicle
for possible signs of such an encounter.
A car passed in front of him. Its windows were clear. A
glimpse of two faces, their mouths made into 0's, was
presented to him, then torn from his sight. His own face
remained without expression. His pace did not change. Two
more cars rushed by, windows darkened. He had crossed
perhaps twenty yards of highway.
Twenty-five...
Something in the wind, or beneath his feet, told him it was
coming. He did not look.
Something in the corner of his eye assured him it was
coming. His gait did not alter.
Cecil Green had the windows transpared because he liked it
that way. His left hand was inside her blouse and her skirt was
piled up on her lap, and his right hand was resting on the lever
which would lower the seats. Then she pulled away, making a
noise down inside her throat.
His head snapped to the left.
He saw the walking man.
He saw the profile which never turned to face him fully. He
saw that the man's gait
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