associating his thoughts, and his strayed in all directions at once.
“Do you want anything?” Damon asked.
“Pudding,” he said. “With fruit.” That was his favorite. He had it every meal
but breakfast; they gave him what he asked for.
“What about books? Would you like some books?”
He had not been offered that. “Yes,” he said, brightening with the memory that
he had loved books. “Thank you.”
“Do you remember me?” Damon asked.
Josh shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “We’ve probably met, but,
you see, I don’t remember things clearly. I think we must have met after I came
here.”
“It’s natural you’d forget. They tell me you’re doing very well. I’ve been here
several times to see about you.”
“I remember.”
“Do you? When you get well I want you to come to my apartment for a visit
sometime. My wife and I would like that.”
He considered it and the universe widened, doubling, multiplying itself so that
he was not sure of his footing. “Do I know her too?”
“No. But she knows about you. I’ve talked to her about you. She says she wants
you to come.”
“What’s her name?”
“Elene. Elene Quen.”
He repeated it with his lips, not to let it leave him. It was a merchanter name.
He had not thought of ships. Now he did. Remembered dark, and stars. He stared
fixedly at Damon’s face, not to lose contact with it, this point of reality in a
shifting white world. He might blink and be alone again. He might wake in his
room, in his bed, and not have any of this to hold onto. He clenched his mind
about it with all his strength. “You’ll come again,” he said, “even if I forget.
Please come and remind me.”
“You’ll remember,” Damon said. “But I’ll come if you don’t.”
Josh wept, which he did easily and often, the tears sliding down his face, a
mere outwelling of emotion, not of grief, or joy, only profound relief. A
cleansing.
“Are you all right?” Damon asked.
I’m tired,“ he said, for his legs were weak from standing, and he knew he should
go hack to his bed before he became dizzy. ”Will you come in?“
“I have to stay in this area,” Damon said. “I’ll send you the books, though.”
He had forgotten the books already. He nodded, pleased and embarrassed at once.
“Go back,” Damon said, releasing him. Josh turned and walked back inside.
The door closed. He went to his bed, dizzier than he had thought. He must walk
more. Enough of lying still, if he walked he would get well faster.
Damon. Elene. Damon. Elene.
There was a place outside which became real to him, to which for the first time
he wanted to go, a place to reach for when he turned loose of this.
He looked to the window. It was empty. For a terrible, lonely moment he thought
that he had imagined it all, that it was a part of the dream world which shaped
itself in this whiteness, and that he had created it. But it had given him
names; it had detail and substance independent of himself; it was real or he was
going mad.
The books came, four cassettes to use in the player, and he held them close to
his chest and rocked to and fro smiling to himself and laughing, cross-legged on
his bed, for it was true. He had touched the real outside and it had touched
him.
He looked about him, and it was only a room, with walls he no longer needed.
BOOK TWO
^
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter One
« ^ »
i
Downbelow main base: 9/2/52
The skies were clear for the morning, only a few fleecy puffs overhead and a
line of them marshaling themselves across the northern horizon, beyond the
river. It was a long view; it usually needed a day and a half for the horizon
clouds to come down to Downbelow base, and they planned to take advantage of
that break, patching the washout which had cut them off from base four and all
the further camps down the chain. It was, they hoped, the last of the storms of