“The countryside looks green,” he said. His eyes were flickering over the grey concrete block opposite.
“Yes,” she said.
Stackpole came bustling down the steps, apologising as he opened the car door, settled in. He let the clutch back too fast and they shot forward. Janet saw then the reason for Westermark’s jerking backwards a short while before. Now the acceleration caught him again; his body was rolled helplessly back. As they drove along, he set one hand fiercely on the side grip, for his sway was not properly counterbalancing the movement of the car.
Once outside the grounds of the institute, they were in the country, still under a mid-August day.
His theories
Westermark, by concentrating, could bring himself to con-form to some of the laws of the time continuum he had left.
When the car he was in climbed up his drive (familiar, yet strange with the rhododendrons unclipped and no signs of children) and stopped by the front door, he sat in his seat for three and a half minutes before venturing to open his door.
Then he climbed out and stood on the gravel, frowning down at it. Was it as real as ever, as material? Was there a slight glaze on it?as if something shone through from the interior of the earth, shone through all things? Or was it that there was a screen between him and everything else? It was important to decide between the two theories, for he had to live under the discipline of one. What he hoped to prove was that the permeation theory was correct; that way he was merely one of the factors comprising the functioning universe, together with the rest of humanity. By the glaze theory, he was isolated not only from the rest of humanity but from the entire cosmos (except Mars?). It was early days yet; he had a deal of thinking to do, and new ideas would undoubtedly emerge after observation and cogitation. Emotion must not decide the issue; he must be detached. Revolutionary theories could well emerge from thissuffering.
He could see his wife by him, standing off in case they happened embarrassingly or painfully to collide. He smiled thinly at her through her glaze. He said, “I am, but I’d prefer not to talk.” He stepped towards the house, noting the slippery feel of gravel that would not move under his tread until the world caught up. He said, “I’ve every respect for The Guardian, but I’d prefer not to talk at present.”
Famous Astronaut Returns Home
As the party arrived, a man waited in the porch for them, ambushing Westermark’s return home with a deprecatory smile. Hesitant but business-like, he came forward and looked interrogatively at the three people who had emerged from the car.
“Excuse me, you are Captain Jack Westermark, aren’t you?”
He stood aside as Westermark seemed to make straight for him.
“I’m the psychology correspondent for The Guardian, if I might intrude for a moment.”
Westermark’s mother had opened the front door and stood there smiling welcome at him, one hand nervously up to her grey hair. Her son walked past her. The newspaper man stared after him.
Janet told him apologetically, “You’ll have to excuse us.
My husband did reply to you, but he’s really not prepared to meet people yet.”
“When did he reply, Mrs. Westermark? Before he heard what I had to say?”
“Well, naturally notbut his life stream… . I’m sorry, I can’t explain.”
“He really is living ahead of time, isn’t he? Will you spare me a minute to tell me how you feel now the first shock is over?”
“You really must excuse me,” Janet said, brushing past him. As she followed her husband into the house, she heard Stackpole say, “Actually, I read The Guardian, and perhaps I could help you. The Institute has given me the job of remaining with Captain Westermark. My name’s Clement Stackpoleyou may know my book. Persistent Human Relations, Methuen. But you must not say that Westermark is living ahead of time. That’s quite incorrect. What you can say is that some of his psychological and physiological processes have somehow been transposed forward”
“Ass!” she exclaimed to herself. She had paused by the threshold to catch some of his words. Now she whisked in.