Hentia toons
The Starman told me where he was from. A place called Alfa Sentori, Papa, which sounds like it is in Italy. He glowered at her. There wasnt a trace of the seductive charm, the predatory lothario he had exhibited in his office at Bradford and Egan; in a sense he stood naked before her, his true vindictive, phlegmatic, self-involved nature revealed in all its unsavoriness. Then, abruptly, he turned on his heel and stomped out. Then why all the mystification? Sabina asked. Why not simply shoot Sonderberg and slip away into the night with the loot?” A hand touched my shoulder. I looked up. A grey-haired Irishman was standing there with calm authority the face portentous and distant as if I were recovering consciousness after a blow on the head. They do not always remember. "Go over there by the fountain, Bill. Ill look into this." I could feel his eyes on my back see the sad head shake hear him order two coffees in excellent Spanish ... dry fountain empty square silver paper in the wind frayed sounds of distant city ... everything grey and fuzzy ... my mind isnt working right ... who are you over there telling the story of Harry and Bill? ... The square clicked back into focus. My mind cleared. I walked toward the café with calm authority. Casey flicked a quick glance at her as he lit the pipe.Its all been worked out, Mary. "Youve learned it. Youve done it. You 'ave said it as we do, without thinking. The 'I' ... " Goodby, Bernie, Clinton said. The prospect of dealing withthe monthly necessities displeased him, but it was more than offset by the acceptance of not one but two new cases to begin the week; separate investigations meant separate fees to swell the agencys bank account. He hoped Sabina’s client was likewise a person of means, not one of the indigent types she was sometimes inclined to succor. Altruism was all well and good, but it did not pay the bills. Well, he would find out soon enough. About her new case and Banker Wrixton’s problem, both. I have mentioned the newsmen. Dr. Nesvadba (with Romain Gary, Frank Roberts, José Gironella, Isaac B. Singer) represents another trend. A prominent Czechoslovak psychiatrist, he is also a widely published journalist and short-story writer. His work, he writes, is in psychotherapy, group psychotherapy, and artetherapy; hobby is literature. He has published five books of SF (only one Vampires, Ltd., in English); three of his stories have been made into Czech films, and “Last Secret” (which has also been translated into German, French, Russian, Polish, Serbocroatian, Yugoslav, and Hungarian) is now being filmed for TV. The tiger sat. Even sitting it was as tall as he, and even now, in repose, with glossy fur lying smooth and soft against the body, every line spoke of the coiled steel within. Chico— Tom bit his lower lip, then went on. I been thinking. Why dont we split up?” Translated by Richard Ellmann That, then, would be it. The sentiment, as well as the vocabulary, was so similar that it would be a perfect exercise. Like putting Poe into French. I would never be a convert to the Way of Malann, but I would show them that an Earthman had once thought the same thoughts, felt similarly. Whore you? asked Josey. My dad don’t like fellers snooping around. What’s your name? Maybe you better get out; he’s got a gun andbelieve me he can use it. What’s that stuff you’re wearing? Looks like it was your skin, only blue, not something sewed at all. I can sew real good myself; it relaxes me, so I’ll probably never be a delinquent. You’re not deaf and dumb, are you, Mister? There’s a man in Henryton’s deaf, dumband blind. People buy pencils from him and drop pennies and nickels in his hat. Say, why don’t you say something? My dad’ll sure run you off. That’s a funny kind of humming. Can you whistle? There’s a piece they got a record of in school—I can whistle the whole thing. It’s calledFlight of the Bumblebee. Want to hear me? Like this... Gee, you don’t need to look so miserable. I guess you just don’t like music. That’s too bad. I thought when you were humming like that—the way you are now too, and I think it sounds real nice even if you don’t like my whistle—you must like music. All us Maxills do. My Dad can play the fiddle betterthan anybody....” So it was true! Reese wanted to shout with excitement.How many? he asked breathlessly. In those years, Ignatius was happy. He had enough to eat, a clean room to sleep in, and books to count and feel, touch, lift, pack, wrap, and distribute on shelves. He had no ambitions and would have been content with his job except for authors. They became worse and worse. I did, yes, the nun said. Her voice was a thin, middle-aged contralto. I wished to spend the day in my room in meditation and prayer.” In me, said Ian. He turned toward the hotel door. It happened the first time with the one patient of all his patients that Dr. Olie most dreaded to see. Mary Castle was a small, pale six-year-old whose weekly visit to his office was an ordeal for her mother and her doctor alike. Childhood leukemia is always a fearful illness; in Mary Castles case the progress of the disease had been swift and inexorable since diagnosis had been made a few weeks before. In the face of expert consultation, the newest drugs, transfusions and supportive care the little girl had become steadily sicker, until the doctor found himself shrinking from eachweekly visit. Are you a policeman? Youre not dressed like one..
