Are you ready for this, Richard Garrison?’
‘Is it as bad as all that?’
‘It is… remarkable.’
Garrison nodded. ‘Let’s see if I find it remarkable,’ he said.
‘“Richard Garrison,”’ Schroeder commenced. ‘“Darkness. Time-scale: now.”
‘“Limbo. Time-scale: to six months.”
‘“WK and Black Dog, ‘S’? Time-scale: to three years.”
‘“Girl “T. Time-scale: to eight years.”
‘“Machine. Time-scale: to eight years.”
‘“RG/TS…”
‘“Light!”’
Garrison was cold, his flesh creeping. He shuddered, his voice shaky when he asked, ‘That means something to you?’
Schroeder had seen his condition, however, and tossed the question right back to him. ‘How do you read it?’
‘Mumbo-jumbo!’
‘Wrong! This is the meaning:
‘That you are blind, and for six months your life will be meaningless, suspended in a sort of limbo. Then there will be a decisive change, brought about by WK and a black dog, “S”. After three years you will meet a girl, “T”, with whom your involvement is to last for four years before—’
‘Before the Machine,’ said Garrison.
‘Yes.’
‘And WK? And RG/TS?’ Garrison knew the answers but wanted them from Schroeder.
‘Willy Koenig, Richard Garrison, Thomas Schroeder,’ said the other.
‘And light?’ Garrison had gone very quiet.
‘If darkness means blindness, light can only mean sight,’ the industrialist answered.
‘I’m to see again, in eight years?’
‘So it would appear.’
‘But how?’
‘New surgical techniques, who can say?’
After a while Garrison said: ‘For a man with no real or serious hangups, it comes as a queer sensation to find myself suddenly grasping at straws.’
‘I know,’ answered Schroeder. ‘Oh, I know so well! But grasp at them, Richard, and hang on for dear life. Believe me, you are not alone.’
‘Who else’s horoscope do you have?’ asked Garrison after a pause of several minutes.
Willy Koenig’s,’ Schroeder answered. ‘My son Heinrich’s. My wife’s, my own and Vick—’ He tried to snatch back the last word, but too late.
‘Vicki’s? What of Vicki?’
‘Why, nothing!’ Schroeder tried to make light of it. ‘She was simply here when Schenk came, that’s all. Her horoscope has nothing to do with yours. There’s no connection.’
‘No connection? Between Vicki and me? There has to be read it to me, please.’
‘But, Richard, I—’
‘You don’t know all of it,’ said Garrison, never dreaming that in fact Schroeder did know all of it. ‘Please…’
Schroeder sighed.’“Vicki Maler,”’ he began, and at once halted.
Again Garrison said, ‘Please!’
‘As you wish.’ The German’s voice was now little more than a dry croak. ‘“Vicki Maler, darkness. Time-scale: now.”
“‘Death. Time-scale: one year!’”
‘ No! ’ Garrison cried. He reached out and snatched the card from Schroeder’s fingers, his instinct deadly accurate, the crumpled the card, threw it down on to the telescope’s platform.
Schroeder grabbed his trembling, balled fist. ‘Richard, schenk could be wrong. It’s possible. He’s only human. He will readily admit that he makes mistakes…’ He paused. ‘But not… often.’
Garrison’s face was twisted, his teeth gritted. ‘Vicki is to die? How? Why?’
‘She came here from Siebert’s sanatorium where they had been testing her eyes. Saul was hoping that perhaps there was a chance, for partial sight, anyway. While she was there he discovered a disease. Very rare. He knows now that this is what blinded her, and that ever since it has been spreading through her system. A sort of cancer. It is now critical. How critical remains to be seen when the final test results come in tomorrow.’
‘And does Vicki know all this?’
‘Oh, yes. About the disease, not about the horoscope.”
‘And what will these test results tell you?’
‘How much time she has.’
‘No cure?’
‘Out of the
‘Is it as bad as all that?’
‘It is… remarkable.’
Garrison nodded. ‘Let’s see if I find it remarkable,’ he said.
‘“Richard Garrison,”’ Schroeder commenced. ‘“Darkness. Time-scale: now.”
‘“Limbo. Time-scale: to six months.”
‘“WK and Black Dog, ‘S’? Time-scale: to three years.”
‘“Girl “T. Time-scale: to eight years.”
‘“Machine. Time-scale: to eight years.”
‘“RG/TS…”
‘“Light!”’
Garrison was cold, his flesh creeping. He shuddered, his voice shaky when he asked, ‘That means something to you?’
Schroeder had seen his condition, however, and tossed the question right back to him. ‘How do you read it?’
‘Mumbo-jumbo!’
‘Wrong! This is the meaning:
‘That you are blind, and for six months your life will be meaningless, suspended in a sort of limbo. Then there will be a decisive change, brought about by WK and a black dog, “S”. After three years you will meet a girl, “T”, with whom your involvement is to last for four years before—’
‘Before the Machine,’ said Garrison.
‘Yes.’
‘And WK? And RG/TS?’ Garrison knew the answers but wanted them from Schroeder.
‘Willy Koenig, Richard Garrison, Thomas Schroeder,’ said the other.
‘And light?’ Garrison had gone very quiet.
‘If darkness means blindness, light can only mean sight,’ the industrialist answered.
‘I’m to see again, in eight years?’
‘So it would appear.’
‘But how?’
‘New surgical techniques, who can say?’
After a while Garrison said: ‘For a man with no real or serious hangups, it comes as a queer sensation to find myself suddenly grasping at straws.’
‘I know,’ answered Schroeder. ‘Oh, I know so well! But grasp at them, Richard, and hang on for dear life. Believe me, you are not alone.’
‘Who else’s horoscope do you have?’ asked Garrison after a pause of several minutes.
Willy Koenig’s,’ Schroeder answered. ‘My son Heinrich’s. My wife’s, my own and Vick—’ He tried to snatch back the last word, but too late.
‘Vicki’s? What of Vicki?’
‘Why, nothing!’ Schroeder tried to make light of it. ‘She was simply here when Schenk came, that’s all. Her horoscope has nothing to do with yours. There’s no connection.’
‘No connection? Between Vicki and me? There has to be read it to me, please.’
‘But, Richard, I—’
‘You don’t know all of it,’ said Garrison, never dreaming that in fact Schroeder did know all of it. ‘Please…’
Schroeder sighed.’“Vicki Maler,”’ he began, and at once halted.
Again Garrison said, ‘Please!’
‘As you wish.’ The German’s voice was now little more than a dry croak. ‘“Vicki Maler, darkness. Time-scale: now.”
“‘Death. Time-scale: one year!’”
‘ No! ’ Garrison cried. He reached out and snatched the card from Schroeder’s fingers, his instinct deadly accurate, the crumpled the card, threw it down on to the telescope’s platform.
Schroeder grabbed his trembling, balled fist. ‘Richard, schenk could be wrong. It’s possible. He’s only human. He will readily admit that he makes mistakes…’ He paused. ‘But not… often.’
Garrison’s face was twisted, his teeth gritted. ‘Vicki is to die? How? Why?’
‘She came here from Siebert’s sanatorium where they had been testing her eyes. Saul was hoping that perhaps there was a chance, for partial sight, anyway. While she was there he discovered a disease. Very rare. He knows now that this is what blinded her, and that ever since it has been spreading through her system. A sort of cancer. It is now critical. How critical remains to be seen when the final test results come in tomorrow.’
‘And does Vicki know all this?’
‘Oh, yes. About the disease, not about the horoscope.”
‘And what will these test results tell you?’
‘How much time she has.’
‘No cure?’
‘Out of the
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