Leverett said, his smile narrowing. He
reached into his desk, taking from a secured compartment
two pill-filled tubes. "Had to roundabout a bit on these. All
doors open when one knows the knock," he said, laughing,
passing me one of the containers. "This will intensify Melaway's recomplexioning process. A like formula, similar to
what you have. Take one each night till departure, along
with your other dose, neither more nor less." He handed the
second tube to John. "For you."
"Added dope?" he asked, pocketing it.
"I wouldn't call it that," Leverett said. "Should assist your
trials. Again, take along with what's prescribed. There, now.
Further questions?"
"What if we find the other world's E," I asked, "and he's
disinclined to return?"
"Would anyone deny proffered godhead?" Leverett asked,
his facade agleam with a child's astonishment. "Choose a
limboed life over one spent in something approximating
heaven? If he's there, and if he's found, relate your truth
predeparture, if necessaried. Cliffside him, and show him his awaiting cities. Hold any carrots you have close to his
nose." His smile engorged, revealing rows of whitened teeth.
"If he still doubts," Leverett said, eyeing my husband as he
rattled his bottle of pills, "well, you'll convince. My trust
implicits."
"General Biggerstaff-"
"Luther, please. Formalities never suited," he said. "Listen as I tell. Point of transferral was here." He tapped
Russia's gold meadowlands with coppery fingers. "Point of
emergence, here." Adjusting his touch as if to better please
a lover, he stroked Pennsylvania's rosy mountains. "You've
been awared of the displacement effects of high velocity,
surely. Shouldn't expect similar, moving at slower pace."
"This globe," John asked, vizzing the world before him.
"Dated when?"
"1939," said Luther. "Summer. It's of our world, of
course. Eye Germany, there. Austria and Czechoslovakia already annexed. Poland not yet overrun, and the future just
over the edge."
Imprinted upon the orb were splotches of pink and green
and yellow, lingering evidence of lands long lost: Tibet and
Madagascar, Baluchistan and Siam; Chosen, Tannu Touva,
the Belgian Congo and Nyasaland. What were Nyasas?
Where had they gone? Were they sent away by others, or had
they packed themselves off en masse, that they alone might
perpetrate the erasure of their memory? Standing in his
living room, staring at his globe, I studied our world's face
as it once showed itself. Did the resemblance to theirs still
hold true, or had, unbeknownst to us or mayhap even to
them, a third world emerged from the mix?
"Enumerate their world's dissimilar manifests," John said.
"Innumerable," said Luther.
"What were your impressions?" I asked.
"Tragic beauty. Grateful loss. All descriptives are contra dictory. My opinions are meaningless, after all. Rewrite the
book according to your wishes as you read."
The Biggerstaffs were forty-seventh-floored in a new
Dryco building, on One-Eighty, near the park. I remembered going as a child to the old zoo, seeing animals so lost
as Nyasas or Baluchistanis. Those living in the surrounding
neighborhood, prior to its levelling, hadn't yet killed them
all. I trepidated that evening upon entering their apartment;
his wife, we were told, was from that other world, and no one
briefed us as to how she would show. Luther greeted us
singly, appearing to hold fewer years than in truth he actually held. After a half hour passed in his wife's absence, I
relaxed enough to almost forget she was there.
"This'll show at borderbreak?" John asked, studying a
framed photo ahang on a wall that pictured a sharp white
spear and marbled ball.
"Your guess, my guess," Luther said. "We tore ours down.
They have their own style."
As did Luther; the photo was contemporaneous with the
decor. Throughout the apartment were century-old antiques: Kodachromed postcards of erased American streets,
stony, gargoyled towers, and
reached into his desk, taking from a secured compartment
two pill-filled tubes. "Had to roundabout a bit on these. All
doors open when one knows the knock," he said, laughing,
passing me one of the containers. "This will intensify Melaway's recomplexioning process. A like formula, similar to
what you have. Take one each night till departure, along
with your other dose, neither more nor less." He handed the
second tube to John. "For you."
"Added dope?" he asked, pocketing it.
"I wouldn't call it that," Leverett said. "Should assist your
trials. Again, take along with what's prescribed. There, now.
Further questions?"
"What if we find the other world's E," I asked, "and he's
disinclined to return?"
"Would anyone deny proffered godhead?" Leverett asked,
his facade agleam with a child's astonishment. "Choose a
limboed life over one spent in something approximating
heaven? If he's there, and if he's found, relate your truth
predeparture, if necessaried. Cliffside him, and show him his awaiting cities. Hold any carrots you have close to his
nose." His smile engorged, revealing rows of whitened teeth.
"If he still doubts," Leverett said, eyeing my husband as he
rattled his bottle of pills, "well, you'll convince. My trust
implicits."
"General Biggerstaff-"
"Luther, please. Formalities never suited," he said. "Listen as I tell. Point of transferral was here." He tapped
Russia's gold meadowlands with coppery fingers. "Point of
emergence, here." Adjusting his touch as if to better please
a lover, he stroked Pennsylvania's rosy mountains. "You've
been awared of the displacement effects of high velocity,
surely. Shouldn't expect similar, moving at slower pace."
"This globe," John asked, vizzing the world before him.
"Dated when?"
"1939," said Luther. "Summer. It's of our world, of
course. Eye Germany, there. Austria and Czechoslovakia already annexed. Poland not yet overrun, and the future just
over the edge."
Imprinted upon the orb were splotches of pink and green
and yellow, lingering evidence of lands long lost: Tibet and
Madagascar, Baluchistan and Siam; Chosen, Tannu Touva,
the Belgian Congo and Nyasaland. What were Nyasas?
Where had they gone? Were they sent away by others, or had
they packed themselves off en masse, that they alone might
perpetrate the erasure of their memory? Standing in his
living room, staring at his globe, I studied our world's face
as it once showed itself. Did the resemblance to theirs still
hold true, or had, unbeknownst to us or mayhap even to
them, a third world emerged from the mix?
"Enumerate their world's dissimilar manifests," John said.
"Innumerable," said Luther.
"What were your impressions?" I asked.
"Tragic beauty. Grateful loss. All descriptives are contra dictory. My opinions are meaningless, after all. Rewrite the
book according to your wishes as you read."
The Biggerstaffs were forty-seventh-floored in a new
Dryco building, on One-Eighty, near the park. I remembered going as a child to the old zoo, seeing animals so lost
as Nyasas or Baluchistanis. Those living in the surrounding
neighborhood, prior to its levelling, hadn't yet killed them
all. I trepidated that evening upon entering their apartment;
his wife, we were told, was from that other world, and no one
briefed us as to how she would show. Luther greeted us
singly, appearing to hold fewer years than in truth he actually held. After a half hour passed in his wife's absence, I
relaxed enough to almost forget she was there.
"This'll show at borderbreak?" John asked, studying a
framed photo ahang on a wall that pictured a sharp white
spear and marbled ball.
"Your guess, my guess," Luther said. "We tore ours down.
They have their own style."
As did Luther; the photo was contemporaneous with the
decor. Throughout the apartment were century-old antiques: Kodachromed postcards of erased American streets,
stony, gargoyled towers, and
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