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Suddenly there was more and redder brightness overhead than the stars. A narrow ribbon of rock along the top of the opposite wall was glaringly bathed in orange, while the rim peaks beyond glowed faintly, like smoldering volcanoes. Light from the orange ribbon bounced down into my fissure, caroming back and forth between the walls until I could dimly see again the holes I was headed for. "O.K. kids," Nina Rampart called to her brood. "Lets start pitching this junk out of the shack so we can move in. Is there any way we can drive our camper down here, Clarence?" For another three days he sat staring at his hands. Once, he had wished for a miracle—an idle, hopeless, vagrant thought—and the miracle somehow had come about. And now, hour by hour, as committees, newspapers, television programs, governments, clergymen, doctors and lawyers all clamored for his services he was hating that vagrant thought, wishing desperately to retract it.If only he had never wished it. If only the magic could be gone— Ecclesiastes could take a night off. I wanted to write a poem, a poem about the one hundred-seventeenth dance of Locar; about a rose following the light, traced by the wind, sick, like Blakes rose, dying... Cord flushed red. "Con, for goodness sake. It isnt at all remarkable!" The flattery, typically overdone, was nonetheless sincere and therefore appealing.And how have you been, Mr. Cleghorne? The bearded man looked skeptical, but didnt challenge the assertion. That’s not in his vocabulary, he told Hitchcock. “You’re new here, so I guess it isn’t your fault. But after this, if you want a Flopper to scram, say, That’s all,’ and he’ll get right out. They’re real obedient if you’re proper with ‘em. But you got to give ‘em the right commands.” So we went to sleep. When I woke, Frenchy was lying awake, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on her face. I wouldnt have cared if shed turned into a marmalade cat overnight. I felt hot and itchy after listening to her moans and mutters all night and I could feel a migraine coming on. I took Beatrice Lafferty to live with me in Nolans studio in the desert near Coral D. We heard no more of Nolan, and never flew the gliders again. The clouds carry too many memories. Three months ago a man who saw the derelict gliders outside the studio stopped near Coral D and walked across to us. He told us he had seen a man flying a glider in the sky high above Red Beach, carving the strato-cirrus into images of jewels and childrens faces. Once there was a dwarf's head. Say after me. Hitchcock scowled. Then youll do something? How can I put it in terms of earth years—of revolutions around this sun by this planet? It wouldnt make sense even if I knew the mathematics involved and could translate one measurement into another. Look at it this way: wheat is old at six months, an oak is young at fifty years. Yeah, I thought, like a rag-and-bone-mans a customer at the Ritz. Hed heard it from some spy. Then they took off another bar and this one went faster, now that Mose had the hang of it. Item and contents property of ... read the circumferential legend if one cared to crane one's neck and bend kiss-close to the poor dead face to see. For the benefit of any readers who, like Mr. Amis, are unfamiliar with the authors work—the name is Finney. Jack Finney. And it has been a familiar one in science-fantasy since Robert Heinlein’s 1951 anthology, Tomorrow the Stars, first offered it to the specialty field. Conmanship, seminal..
