work for Bunce? ”
“Be easy, Moldenke. Sit down. You're safe here.”
“You said you worked for Bunce.”
“I didn't mean to excite you. I know it's hard on the hearts. In fact, the tower belongs to Bunce. In that sense I work for him. Frankly, I've never seen the man. I just live here and do my job. He calls me sometimes and we talk about the weather.”
On one wall weather gauges gave readings. They watched the needles move.
“They aren't accurate,” Shelp said. “Bunce prefers it that way.”
A strong wind blew against the tower. The wind gauge read calm.
Shelp said, “You'll have to pardon me now. I have to do the weather.” He sat at a table under the weather gauges, spoke into a microphone:
Roving chuff clouds, floxiness hovering above L.A. unpredictable, nothing verified, minimum forecast, probable extensive sunsout, birdfall index high per hundredcount, earlier reports not reliable, premature, lofty hopes for a sunsy weekout, otherwise rain and sleet.
Moldenke slept intermittently. Shelp stood over the teaboil. The wind whistled. The fire in the floor pit died.
“Do you recognize time, Moldenke?”
Moldenke sat up, eye wide. “Where is it?” He blinked away a forming daydream, although outside the night was early.
“Consider the future, Moldenke. Do you imagine we'll ever get there? Some folks see it as a k-bus trip. You get there, you get off, set down the packages, and talk about the chuckholes. I wonder about the quality of that. Moldenke?”
38]
When the government moons went up, Eagleman's moon came down.
39]
Moldenke had postponed the matter of booster hearts until one of his lungs had collapsed.
Burnheart had written a letter:
My Dear Declining Dink,
It's not an altogether cheering prospect, you moonchild. I sat back and let you be overtaken by a flotilla of polyps. The physician's ethical silence, in deference to your feelings. I couldn't sleep. Never again, son. Where it pertains to you, nature drives in rearward gear. I've watched the teeth rot out, the eye close, and now the heart is down to a slug's crawl. In this case I will not sit back and let the long Moldenke line run out of ink.
May I suggest a set of booster hearts?
The surgery is child's work. You swallow the pill and dream about a necklace of planets, or whatever.
I'll install the hearts myself. I admit, I wouldn't mind putting on the rubbers again. It's been a number of seasons. And when it's all over, when you've got four little pumpers helping the big one along, we'll each take home two sheep for the barbecue. Look at it that way.
Your Doctor,
Burnheart
40]
“Another cup of tea, Moldenke?”
Moldenke slept.
Shelp spooned banana flowers into the teaboil. The wind died. The wind gauge needle lurched to ninety klicks per.
Moldenke sat up empty.
“More tea, Moldenke?”
“Thank you. I'm down now.”
“Not below the normal level I hope?”
“No, not much below. Yes, I'd like tea. What time is it, Shelp? ”
“You do recognize it, then? ”
“Yes, I remember the question. You asked it earlier.”
“And now you've come full circle and answered it for me. You're indirect, Moldenke. You sniff about too cautiously, like the cat and the recent turd. You parry at the body of something like a timid boxer. Let me see your nose instead of your ass. I don't know what time it is. If I had a clockpiece here it wouldn't keep the standard time, so what's the good of one? Are you in a hurry?”
“They expect me in three days.”
“You mean they expect you to arrive on the third day?”
“I can't say. I'm not the one to judge.”
“You talk like a cottonhead, Dink. Drink your tea. I'll skewer a few cat cranks. We'll eat. No sense in hurrying off. If they're expecting you on the third day, you don't want to get there before that and find the doors locked, do you?”
Moldenke agreed that he didn't.
41]
Dear Moldenke,
If you place a cup over the ear you
“Be easy, Moldenke. Sit down. You're safe here.”
“You said you worked for Bunce.”
“I didn't mean to excite you. I know it's hard on the hearts. In fact, the tower belongs to Bunce. In that sense I work for him. Frankly, I've never seen the man. I just live here and do my job. He calls me sometimes and we talk about the weather.”
On one wall weather gauges gave readings. They watched the needles move.
“They aren't accurate,” Shelp said. “Bunce prefers it that way.”
A strong wind blew against the tower. The wind gauge read calm.
Shelp said, “You'll have to pardon me now. I have to do the weather.” He sat at a table under the weather gauges, spoke into a microphone:
Roving chuff clouds, floxiness hovering above L.A. unpredictable, nothing verified, minimum forecast, probable extensive sunsout, birdfall index high per hundredcount, earlier reports not reliable, premature, lofty hopes for a sunsy weekout, otherwise rain and sleet.
Moldenke slept intermittently. Shelp stood over the teaboil. The wind whistled. The fire in the floor pit died.
“Do you recognize time, Moldenke?”
Moldenke sat up, eye wide. “Where is it?” He blinked away a forming daydream, although outside the night was early.
“Consider the future, Moldenke. Do you imagine we'll ever get there? Some folks see it as a k-bus trip. You get there, you get off, set down the packages, and talk about the chuckholes. I wonder about the quality of that. Moldenke?”
38]
When the government moons went up, Eagleman's moon came down.
39]
Moldenke had postponed the matter of booster hearts until one of his lungs had collapsed.
Burnheart had written a letter:
My Dear Declining Dink,
It's not an altogether cheering prospect, you moonchild. I sat back and let you be overtaken by a flotilla of polyps. The physician's ethical silence, in deference to your feelings. I couldn't sleep. Never again, son. Where it pertains to you, nature drives in rearward gear. I've watched the teeth rot out, the eye close, and now the heart is down to a slug's crawl. In this case I will not sit back and let the long Moldenke line run out of ink.
May I suggest a set of booster hearts?
The surgery is child's work. You swallow the pill and dream about a necklace of planets, or whatever.
I'll install the hearts myself. I admit, I wouldn't mind putting on the rubbers again. It's been a number of seasons. And when it's all over, when you've got four little pumpers helping the big one along, we'll each take home two sheep for the barbecue. Look at it that way.
Your Doctor,
Burnheart
40]
“Another cup of tea, Moldenke?”
Moldenke slept.
Shelp spooned banana flowers into the teaboil. The wind died. The wind gauge needle lurched to ninety klicks per.
Moldenke sat up empty.
“More tea, Moldenke?”
“Thank you. I'm down now.”
“Not below the normal level I hope?”
“No, not much below. Yes, I'd like tea. What time is it, Shelp? ”
“You do recognize it, then? ”
“Yes, I remember the question. You asked it earlier.”
“And now you've come full circle and answered it for me. You're indirect, Moldenke. You sniff about too cautiously, like the cat and the recent turd. You parry at the body of something like a timid boxer. Let me see your nose instead of your ass. I don't know what time it is. If I had a clockpiece here it wouldn't keep the standard time, so what's the good of one? Are you in a hurry?”
“They expect me in three days.”
“You mean they expect you to arrive on the third day?”
“I can't say. I'm not the one to judge.”
“You talk like a cottonhead, Dink. Drink your tea. I'll skewer a few cat cranks. We'll eat. No sense in hurrying off. If they're expecting you on the third day, you don't want to get there before that and find the doors locked, do you?”
Moldenke agreed that he didn't.
41]
Dear Moldenke,
If you place a cup over the ear you
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