There were books in plenty on the wall, but no bookshelves. They seemed to grow from the wall like so many cabbages
It puzzled Stevens momentarily, but he inferred – correctly it turned out later – that a small magnet fastened to the binding did the trick
The arrangement of lighting was novel, complex, automatic, and convenient for Waldo. But it was not so convenient for anyone else in the room. The lighting was, of course, indirect; but, furthermore, it was subtly controlled, so that none of the lighting came from the direction in which Waldo’s head was turned. There was no glare – for Waldo. Since the lights behind his head burned brightly in order to provide more illumination for whatever he happened to be looking at, there was glare aplenty for anyone else. An electric eye circuit, obviously. Stevens found himself wondering just how simple such a circuit could be made
Grimes complained about it. ‘Damn it, Waldo; get those lights under control. You’ll give us headaches.
‘Sorry, Uncle Gus.’ He withdrew his right hand from its gauntlet and placed his fingers over one of the control panels. The glare stopped. Light now came from whatever direction none of them happened to be looking, and much more brightly, since the area source of illumination was much reduced. Lights rippled across the walls in pleasant patterns. Stevens tried to follow the ripples, a difficult matter, since the setup was made not to be seen. He found that he could do so by rolling his eyes without moving his head. It was movement of the head which controlled the lights; movement of an eyeball was a little too much for it
‘Well, Mr Stevens, do you find my house interesting?’ Waldo was smiling at him with faint superciliousness
‘Oh – quite! Quite! I believe that it is the most remarkable place I have ever been in.
‘And what do you find remarkable about it?
‘Well – the lack of definite orientation, I believe. That and the remarkable mechanical novelties. I suppose I am a bit of a groundlubber, but I keep expecting a floor underfoot and a ceiling overhead.
‘Mere matters of functional designs, Mr Stevens; the conditions under which I live are unique; therefore, my house is unique. The novelty you speak of consists mainly in the elimination of unnecessary parts and the addition of new conveniences
‘To tell the truth, the most interesting thing I have seen yet is not a part of the house at all.
‘Really? What is it, pray?
‘Your dog, Baldur.’ The dog looked around at the mention of his name. ‘I’ve never before met a dog who could handle himself in free flight.
Waldo smiled; for the first time his smile seemed gentle and warm. ‘Yes, Baldur is quite an acrobat. He’s been at it since he was a puppy.’ He reached out and roughed the dog’s cars, showing momentarily his extreme weakness, for the gesture had none of the strength appropriate to the size of the brute. The finger motions were flaccid, barely sufficient to disturb the coarse fur and to displace the great ears. But he seemed unaware, or unconcerned, by the disclosure. Turning back to Stevens, he added, ‘But if Baldur amuses you, you must see Ariel.
‘Ariel?
Instead of replying, Waldo touched the keyboard of the voder, producing a musical whistling pattern of three notes. There was a rustling near the wall of the room ‘above’ them; a tiny yellow shape shot towards them – a canary. It sailed through the air with wings folded, bullet fashion. A foot or so away from Waldo it spread its wings, cupping the air, beat them a few times with tail down and spread, and came to a dead stop, hovering in the air with folded wings. Not quite a dead stop, perhaps, for it drifted slowly, came within an inch of Waldo’s shoulder, let down its landing gear, and dug its claws into his singlet
Waldo reached up and stroked it with a fingertip. It preened
‘No earth-hatched bird can learn to fly in that fashion,’ he stated. ‘I know. I lost half a dozen before I was sure that they were incapable of making the readjustment. Too much thalamus.