girl said to no one in particular.
‘All right, that’s enough of that,’ Secuille said; and the illusions forlornly turned into smoke and reentered the Aaian’s head, all except the yeti, who escaped by the fire exit and was hunted down and dispatched several days later by the Royal Aaian Illusion Squad.
‘You have really missed the point, Crompton,’ Secuille said after everything was back under control and the chair that the yeti had knocked over had set itself upright, somewhat abashed at having been overturned by a mere illusion. ‘Can you actually believe that I would try to coerce you into playing in my Game?’
‘Well, you’ll have to admit that it does look that way.’
‘Maybe it does to you,’ Secuille said, ‘but not to me. To me it looks like the long arm of synchronicity is stirring things into patterns again. Mr. Loomis’s address is 4567 Panderer Way, South Palmetto Shores, West Garden, South Cetesphe. He works daily at the Episodes Division of Pleasure Scenes Galaxy Spectaculars in the Gardens of Rui.’
Crompton was stunned. After a while he muttered, ‘Thank you very much.’
‘You’re entirely welcome,’ Secuille said.
‘And what happens now?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve done me a big favor. What do I have to do for you in return?’
‘Just stay as sweet as you are,’ Secuille said.
‘But I thought you needed me in your Game!’
‘That’s not important,’ Secuille said.
‘I never said that I would not help you,’ Crompton said. ‘It’s just that the way it came up –’
Secuille led him gently to the door. ‘Good-bye, Crompton. It may be that we will meet again under different conditions. Feel free to call on me for assistance. And, as much as one temporary combination of bound energies can wish another good luck, I do so wish you.’
He closed the door. And Crompton, feeling completely one-upped, walked out into the disconsolate night.
10
Crompton took a jitney ornihopter to the Episodes Division of Pleasure Scenes Galaxy Spectaculars in the Gardens of Rui. This part of the Gardens was devoted to the needs of humano-form beings and their near-relatives. These included the humans, the alinopods, the gnoles, the subquasfian tadies, the barbizans of Grustark II, the irrepressible double-jointed trelizonds, the insidious and falsely smiling lunters, and their neighbors, the hyperpromenteian muns.
As Crompton passed through the main gate, he saw a lean, intense-looking man in blue jeans and black-rimmed spectacles sitting on a stool and working away at a portable typewriter on his lap. Crompton stared at him with amazement, and the man looked up and said, ‘Yes, what is it?’
‘I’d like to know what you’re doing,’ Crompton asked.
‘I’m writing a novel,’ the man said, typing as he talked. This dialogue goes in, of course. My detractors accuse me of mere fantasizing, but I put in only what I see and hear.’
‘It seems to me –’
‘Never mind,’ the writer said. ‘No line of dialogue beginning ‘It seems to me’ ever turns out to be amusing. Perhaps I should deliver a set speech at this point. There are several delicious ironies that perhaps have not occurred to you to date. For example –’
‘I hate sentences that begin “For example,” ’ Crompton said.
‘I was going to rewrite that, actually. “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself – I am large. I contain multitudes.” How well old Whitman put it! The peculiar relevance of that conception –’
‘I must be going,’ Crompton said.
‘Good-bye,’ the writer said. ‘It’s been a short scene, but a snappy one.’
‘It must be nice being a writer,’ Crompton said.
‘It is like being a slug crawling down an infinite sheet of paper.’
‘That’s too bad,’ Crompton said. ‘Maybe –’
But the writer never listened to sentences that began ‘Maybe.’ His attention had already been captured by the sudden
‘All right, that’s enough of that,’ Secuille said; and the illusions forlornly turned into smoke and reentered the Aaian’s head, all except the yeti, who escaped by the fire exit and was hunted down and dispatched several days later by the Royal Aaian Illusion Squad.
‘You have really missed the point, Crompton,’ Secuille said after everything was back under control and the chair that the yeti had knocked over had set itself upright, somewhat abashed at having been overturned by a mere illusion. ‘Can you actually believe that I would try to coerce you into playing in my Game?’
‘Well, you’ll have to admit that it does look that way.’
‘Maybe it does to you,’ Secuille said, ‘but not to me. To me it looks like the long arm of synchronicity is stirring things into patterns again. Mr. Loomis’s address is 4567 Panderer Way, South Palmetto Shores, West Garden, South Cetesphe. He works daily at the Episodes Division of Pleasure Scenes Galaxy Spectaculars in the Gardens of Rui.’
Crompton was stunned. After a while he muttered, ‘Thank you very much.’
‘You’re entirely welcome,’ Secuille said.
‘And what happens now?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve done me a big favor. What do I have to do for you in return?’
‘Just stay as sweet as you are,’ Secuille said.
‘But I thought you needed me in your Game!’
‘That’s not important,’ Secuille said.
‘I never said that I would not help you,’ Crompton said. ‘It’s just that the way it came up –’
Secuille led him gently to the door. ‘Good-bye, Crompton. It may be that we will meet again under different conditions. Feel free to call on me for assistance. And, as much as one temporary combination of bound energies can wish another good luck, I do so wish you.’
He closed the door. And Crompton, feeling completely one-upped, walked out into the disconsolate night.
10
Crompton took a jitney ornihopter to the Episodes Division of Pleasure Scenes Galaxy Spectaculars in the Gardens of Rui. This part of the Gardens was devoted to the needs of humano-form beings and their near-relatives. These included the humans, the alinopods, the gnoles, the subquasfian tadies, the barbizans of Grustark II, the irrepressible double-jointed trelizonds, the insidious and falsely smiling lunters, and their neighbors, the hyperpromenteian muns.
As Crompton passed through the main gate, he saw a lean, intense-looking man in blue jeans and black-rimmed spectacles sitting on a stool and working away at a portable typewriter on his lap. Crompton stared at him with amazement, and the man looked up and said, ‘Yes, what is it?’
‘I’d like to know what you’re doing,’ Crompton asked.
‘I’m writing a novel,’ the man said, typing as he talked. This dialogue goes in, of course. My detractors accuse me of mere fantasizing, but I put in only what I see and hear.’
‘It seems to me –’
‘Never mind,’ the writer said. ‘No line of dialogue beginning ‘It seems to me’ ever turns out to be amusing. Perhaps I should deliver a set speech at this point. There are several delicious ironies that perhaps have not occurred to you to date. For example –’
‘I hate sentences that begin “For example,” ’ Crompton said.
‘I was going to rewrite that, actually. “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself – I am large. I contain multitudes.” How well old Whitman put it! The peculiar relevance of that conception –’
‘I must be going,’ Crompton said.
‘Good-bye,’ the writer said. ‘It’s been a short scene, but a snappy one.’
‘It must be nice being a writer,’ Crompton said.
‘It is like being a slug crawling down an infinite sheet of paper.’
‘That’s too bad,’ Crompton said. ‘Maybe –’
But the writer never listened to sentences that began ‘Maybe.’ His attention had already been captured by the sudden
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