physical presence of the state.
It was one thing to joust with dragons on some far-off tilting day when his lance was honed and he was mounted and mailed. It was another, lanceless and without armor, to find the dragon coiled within this room and breathing flames.
She was trapped. This girl of tender flesh and fragile bones carried with her the evidence of a conspiracy that would destroy them both.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He got up and paced the floor. “There are drugs.”
“Ask for them at the pharmacy and you’ll be arrested on the spot.”
“Who was that Frenchman, Thoreau, who had the idea that running around on all fours would make a miscarriage come about?”
“It was Rousseau,” she said, “and it was to make childbirth easier.”
“If we could get you into a centrifuge…”
“Not unless you’re going to another planet.”
He sat down on the sofa, breathing heavily. “Maybe a trampoline…”
“What would a professional be doing acting like a circus prol?”
He thought for a moment. She could take a trip out to Sea Lion Park and ride the roller-coaster. She could tilt her body back to get the true perpendicular to the uterus “I think,” he said, noticing for the first time that if the brocaded tiger were to lunge forward, it would not strike the nose of the elongated roebuck head that formed the base of the end lamp. It would claw the roebuck’s eye.
“What do you think?”
“I think anything we say or do is academic.” He got up and walked over to the end lamp, lifting it. Beneath the hollow base of the end lamp, lying on the table, was a small metallic object no larger than a tarantula but far more deadly. All the sounds they had made had been picked up and broadcast to a distant amplifier.
Where were the listeners? A block away? Half a block away? In this very building?
Whoever listened heard the end lamp lifted. They heard his hand wrap itself around the microphone as he carried it to a side window, and they heard the crunch as it landed on the pavement eight stories below.
“You shouldn’t have destroyed it,” she said. “Now you’ll be charged with destroying state property. They’ll make you regret and repent.”
Shaken by waves of anger and fear that canceled each other, he stood before her, outwardly unshaken, preparing his last will and testament for the only being he loved.
He sensed that in her present turmoil she would little note nor long remember what he said here unless he could associate his words with phrases she knew already and would never forget. So, to preserve for her, forever, a reminder of his love, his genius of desperate inspiration leaped to his side, and he said, “Regret a microphone? No! Not for that, nor what the pimps of Soc and Psych may else inflict do I repent or change, but will always feel a high disdain for those unthinking shepherds who overwhelm us with their stench of lanolin.”
“But, what can we do, Haldane?”
“Beloved, I know not what course you may take but as for me, I’ll fight. I’ll fight them here, I’ll fight them in the slimes of Venus, I’ll fight them, if need be, from the frozen corners of Hell. I’ll never surrender!
“I’m not the master of my fate, but I’m the captain of my mind, and I shall not cease from mental strife, nor shall my thoughts sleep in my brain, till we have built anew upon this earth an edifice of liberty…”—his voice sank—“… or death,”
He sat down beside her, his face white with anger, breathing in short gasps, catching in an open palm the vicious punches of his fist.
Her keen mind grasped his intentions. Leaning over to stroke his hair, she said, “So fair, so bright!” Then she spoke to him, saying, “I cannot change the tenor of your thoughts nor make our coming trials a little thing, but if I could raise my hand and say to the evidence within me, ‘Out, damned spot,’ my heart would still cry ‘Hold!’, for this, my hand, would rather, a
It was one thing to joust with dragons on some far-off tilting day when his lance was honed and he was mounted and mailed. It was another, lanceless and without armor, to find the dragon coiled within this room and breathing flames.
She was trapped. This girl of tender flesh and fragile bones carried with her the evidence of a conspiracy that would destroy them both.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He got up and paced the floor. “There are drugs.”
“Ask for them at the pharmacy and you’ll be arrested on the spot.”
“Who was that Frenchman, Thoreau, who had the idea that running around on all fours would make a miscarriage come about?”
“It was Rousseau,” she said, “and it was to make childbirth easier.”
“If we could get you into a centrifuge…”
“Not unless you’re going to another planet.”
He sat down on the sofa, breathing heavily. “Maybe a trampoline…”
“What would a professional be doing acting like a circus prol?”
He thought for a moment. She could take a trip out to Sea Lion Park and ride the roller-coaster. She could tilt her body back to get the true perpendicular to the uterus “I think,” he said, noticing for the first time that if the brocaded tiger were to lunge forward, it would not strike the nose of the elongated roebuck head that formed the base of the end lamp. It would claw the roebuck’s eye.
“What do you think?”
“I think anything we say or do is academic.” He got up and walked over to the end lamp, lifting it. Beneath the hollow base of the end lamp, lying on the table, was a small metallic object no larger than a tarantula but far more deadly. All the sounds they had made had been picked up and broadcast to a distant amplifier.
Where were the listeners? A block away? Half a block away? In this very building?
Whoever listened heard the end lamp lifted. They heard his hand wrap itself around the microphone as he carried it to a side window, and they heard the crunch as it landed on the pavement eight stories below.
“You shouldn’t have destroyed it,” she said. “Now you’ll be charged with destroying state property. They’ll make you regret and repent.”
Shaken by waves of anger and fear that canceled each other, he stood before her, outwardly unshaken, preparing his last will and testament for the only being he loved.
He sensed that in her present turmoil she would little note nor long remember what he said here unless he could associate his words with phrases she knew already and would never forget. So, to preserve for her, forever, a reminder of his love, his genius of desperate inspiration leaped to his side, and he said, “Regret a microphone? No! Not for that, nor what the pimps of Soc and Psych may else inflict do I repent or change, but will always feel a high disdain for those unthinking shepherds who overwhelm us with their stench of lanolin.”
“But, what can we do, Haldane?”
“Beloved, I know not what course you may take but as for me, I’ll fight. I’ll fight them here, I’ll fight them in the slimes of Venus, I’ll fight them, if need be, from the frozen corners of Hell. I’ll never surrender!
“I’m not the master of my fate, but I’m the captain of my mind, and I shall not cease from mental strife, nor shall my thoughts sleep in my brain, till we have built anew upon this earth an edifice of liberty…”—his voice sank—“… or death,”
He sat down beside her, his face white with anger, breathing in short gasps, catching in an open palm the vicious punches of his fist.
Her keen mind grasped his intentions. Leaning over to stroke his hair, she said, “So fair, so bright!” Then she spoke to him, saying, “I cannot change the tenor of your thoughts nor make our coming trials a little thing, but if I could raise my hand and say to the evidence within me, ‘Out, damned spot,’ my heart would still cry ‘Hold!’, for this, my hand, would rather, a
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