
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
right inside you. I'm with you every decision you take. I'm riding your every
thought, and feeling everything you feel. This isn't the most comfortable of
minds to live in, my friend. I would appreciate it greatly if you could get it
sorted out a little. Come to terms with yourself and the universe.
If I'd known you wanted to reform me, I replied, I'd never have let you in.
You're stuck with me, and if you don't like it, then it's too bad. I don't
give a damn whether or not my mind is your idea of the
Garden of Eden. If you don't like riding my thoughts, get off.
" I'm with you till you die. You know that.
Well, you're with the me you know and apparently don't think much of. You
can't change me.
You can live in my mind, but you can't alter it. So forget it. I don't need
your help to run my affairs.
You're welcome to stay, just so long as you keep quiet.
" I'm not sure that I can comply with that, mine host. I think you
occasionally need reminding when you act the fool. And I think you might need
my help one day.
I'll do without, thanks.
" We'll see.
Do I consult you as if you were an oracle, or do we take democratic vote? I
remarked.
He observed the sarcasm, and shut up.
There was a slightly foul taste in my mouth, caused by too much thinking.
Silent conversation with the wind was engrossing. I roused myself to take note
of my surroundings and came back to the land of
the not-yet-dead.
4
The Lapthorn estate was just beyond Aurora. The train stopped at a tiny town
that looked just as deserted as the spaceport. All of Earth seemed to have
gone to sleep.
There was a car waiting at the station, with a small sandy-haired guy driving.
He didn't introduce himself, but I assumed he must be the hired hand, and that
the Lapthorns were all at home, anxiously preparing for the arrival of the
next best thing to the prodigal son. The car was a nice, newly sprayed
skyrider that was perfectly smooth on her cushion. A lot of these
fancy floating jobs are no real improvement on groundhogs as far as
jumping and jerking are concerned. But some poor engineer had put his heart
into making this one behave as the advertising material said it would. That
sort of thing had been Herault's claim to a meaningful existence.
The house was big, and the grounds suitably impressive. The grandeur of empty
land should be losing its status and becoming a fraction ridiculous now the
starward flow had reduced the population by seventy or eighty per cent, but a
bit of empty Earth was still worth noticing. The grass would be Andean, of
course, and the trees from Australia or Alaska. Ninety-nine per cent of the
Page 18
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
north-eastern states had been under concrete at one time with nothing living
free except flies, rats, and humans, plus other minor vermin. All this was
reclaimed, like the food which had made the Lapthorn family its fortune in the
first place.
The interior decor was fabulous, and the polite atmosphere you could feel
between your fingers.
It was ten minutes before anyone said anything to me which wasn't a socially
respectable synthetic. Even then we took time getting down to the real heart
of the matter.
There were four of us seated in a circle. I'd been offered food and drink and
- for the sake of convenience - met the offers with a blanket refusal. I'd
been welcomed and thanked about three times.
So now we reached the guts of the story. Lapthorn junior was dead and I
wasn't. How, why, and what the hell else was there?
Mrs Lapthorn sat on my left, leaning forward like a predatory bird waiting to
snatch up the words as they fell. William Lapthorn sat opposite, looking
majestically relaxed. The Lapthorn lips were held in a straight line - not
taut or limp, just restrained from evidencing any reaction. Eve Lapthorn - the
sister - sat to my right, waiting without having yet decided what she was
going to do or say. I had the odd sensation that she was the only living thing
in the room.
I told them about my first meeting with Michael Lapthorn - it was a continual
effort to refer to him by his first name. I'd rarely called him by any name at
all - you don't have to when you work that closely together - but I'd always
thought of him by his surname. Herault, of course, had first brought us
together. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]