table," she acknowledged, running
her fingertips over the plates and the junctures. "I associated it
with you that night."
". . . And you stuffed me into it just now," he commented.
"You're a strong-willed woman."
The armor vanished and he was wearing his graybrown suit
and looseknit bloodclot necktie and a professional expression.
"Behold the real me," he smiled faintly. "Now, to the sunset.
I'm going to use all the colors. Watch!"
They seated themselves on the green park bench which had
appeared behind them, and Render pointed in the direction he
had decided upon as east.
Slowly, the sun worked through its morning attitudes. For
the first time in this particular world it shone down like a god,
and reflected off the lake, and broke the clouds, and set the
landscape to smouldering beneath the mist that arose from the
moist wood.
Watching, watching intently, staring directly into the
ascending bonfire, Eileen did not move for a long while, nor
speak. Render could sense her fascination.
She was staring at the source of all light; it reflected back
from the gleaming coin on her brow, like a single drop of blood.
Render said, "That is the sun, and those are clouds," and he
clapped his hands and the clouds covered the sun and there
was a soft rumble overhead, "and that is thunder," he finished.
The rain fell then, shattering the lake and tickling their
faces, making sharp striking sounds on the leaves, then soft
tapping sounds, dripping down from the branches overhead,
soaking their garments and plastering their hair, running down
their necks and falling into their eyes, turning patches of brown
earth to mud.
A splash of lightning covered the sky, and a second later
there was another peal of thunder.
". . . And this is a summer storm," he lectured. "You see how
the rain affects the foliage, and ourselves. What you just saw in
the sky before the thunderclap was lightning."
". . . Too much," she said. "Let up on it for a moment,
please."
The rain stopped instantly and the sun broke through the
clouds.
"I have the damnedest desire for a cigarette," she said, "but I
left mine in another world."
As she said it one appeared, already lighted, between her
fingers.
"It's going to taste rather flat," said Render strangely.
He watched her for a moment, then:
"I didn't give you that cigarette," he noted. "You picked it
from my mind."
The smoke laddered and spiraled upward, was swept away.
". . . Which means that, for the second time today, I have
underestimated the pull of that vacuum in your mindin the
place where sight ought to be. You are assimilating these new
impressions very rapidly. You're even going to the extent of
groping after new ones. Be careful. Try to contain that
impulse."
"It's like a hunger," she said.
"Perhaps we had best conclude this session now."
Their clothing was dry again. A bird began to sing.
"No, wait! Please! I'll be careful. I want to see more things."
"There is always the next visit," said Render. "But I suppose
we can manage one more. Is there something you want very
badly to see?"
"Yes. Winter. Snow."
"Okay," smiled the Shaper, "then wrap yourself in that
furpiece..."
The afternoon slipped by rapidly after the departure of his
patient. Render was in a good mood. He felt emptied and filled
again. He had come through the first trial without suffering any
repercussions. He decided that he was going to succeed. His
satisfaction was greater than his fear. It was with a sense of
exhilaration that he returned to working on his speech.
". . . And what is the power to hurt?" he inquired of the
microphone.
"We live by pleasure and we live by pain," he answered
himself. "Either can frustrate and either can encourage. But
while pleasure and pain are rooted in biology, they are
conditioned by society: thus are values to be derived. Because
of the enormous masses of humanity, hectically changing
positions in space every day
her fingertips over the plates and the junctures. "I associated it
with you that night."
". . . And you stuffed me into it just now," he commented.
"You're a strong-willed woman."
The armor vanished and he was wearing his graybrown suit
and looseknit bloodclot necktie and a professional expression.
"Behold the real me," he smiled faintly. "Now, to the sunset.
I'm going to use all the colors. Watch!"
They seated themselves on the green park bench which had
appeared behind them, and Render pointed in the direction he
had decided upon as east.
Slowly, the sun worked through its morning attitudes. For
the first time in this particular world it shone down like a god,
and reflected off the lake, and broke the clouds, and set the
landscape to smouldering beneath the mist that arose from the
moist wood.
Watching, watching intently, staring directly into the
ascending bonfire, Eileen did not move for a long while, nor
speak. Render could sense her fascination.
She was staring at the source of all light; it reflected back
from the gleaming coin on her brow, like a single drop of blood.
Render said, "That is the sun, and those are clouds," and he
clapped his hands and the clouds covered the sun and there
was a soft rumble overhead, "and that is thunder," he finished.
The rain fell then, shattering the lake and tickling their
faces, making sharp striking sounds on the leaves, then soft
tapping sounds, dripping down from the branches overhead,
soaking their garments and plastering their hair, running down
their necks and falling into their eyes, turning patches of brown
earth to mud.
A splash of lightning covered the sky, and a second later
there was another peal of thunder.
". . . And this is a summer storm," he lectured. "You see how
the rain affects the foliage, and ourselves. What you just saw in
the sky before the thunderclap was lightning."
". . . Too much," she said. "Let up on it for a moment,
please."
The rain stopped instantly and the sun broke through the
clouds.
"I have the damnedest desire for a cigarette," she said, "but I
left mine in another world."
As she said it one appeared, already lighted, between her
fingers.
"It's going to taste rather flat," said Render strangely.
He watched her for a moment, then:
"I didn't give you that cigarette," he noted. "You picked it
from my mind."
The smoke laddered and spiraled upward, was swept away.
". . . Which means that, for the second time today, I have
underestimated the pull of that vacuum in your mindin the
place where sight ought to be. You are assimilating these new
impressions very rapidly. You're even going to the extent of
groping after new ones. Be careful. Try to contain that
impulse."
"It's like a hunger," she said.
"Perhaps we had best conclude this session now."
Their clothing was dry again. A bird began to sing.
"No, wait! Please! I'll be careful. I want to see more things."
"There is always the next visit," said Render. "But I suppose
we can manage one more. Is there something you want very
badly to see?"
"Yes. Winter. Snow."
"Okay," smiled the Shaper, "then wrap yourself in that
furpiece..."
The afternoon slipped by rapidly after the departure of his
patient. Render was in a good mood. He felt emptied and filled
again. He had come through the first trial without suffering any
repercussions. He decided that he was going to succeed. His
satisfaction was greater than his fear. It was with a sense of
exhilaration that he returned to working on his speech.
". . . And what is the power to hurt?" he inquired of the
microphone.
"We live by pleasure and we live by pain," he answered
himself. "Either can frustrate and either can encourage. But
while pleasure and pain are rooted in biology, they are
conditioned by society: thus are values to be derived. Because
of the enormous masses of humanity, hectically changing
positions in space every day
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