Either-or
The Man who belonged on Earth
Dr.RobertStadlerpacedhisoffice,wishinghewouldnotfeelthecold.Springhadbeenlateincoming.Beyondthewindow,thedeadgrayofthehillslookedlikethesmearedtransitionfromthesoiledwhiteoftheskytotheleadenblackoftheriver.Onceinawhile,adistantpatchofhillsideflaredintoasilver-yellowthatwasalmostgreen,thenvanished.Thecloudskeptcrackingforthewidthofasinglesunray,thenoozingclosedagain.Itwasnotcoldintheoffice,thoughtDr.Stadler,itwasthatviewthatfrozetheplace.
Itwasnotcoldtoday,thechillwasinhisbones—hethought—thestoredaccumulationofthewintermonths,whenhehadhadtobedistractedfromhisworkbyanawarenessofsuchamatterasinadequateheatingandpeoplehadtalkedaboutconservingfuel.Itwaspreposterous,hethought,thisgrowingintrusionoftheaccidentsofnatureintotheaffairsofmen:ithadnevermatteredbefore,ifawinterhappenedtobeunusuallysevere;ifafloodwashedoutasectionofrailroadtrack,onedidnotspendtwoweekseatingcannedvegetables;ifanelectricstormstrucksomepowerstation,anestablishmentsuchastheStateScienceInstitutewasnotleftwithoutelectricityforfivedays.Fivedaysofstillnessthiswinter,hethought,withthegreatlaboratorymotorsstoppedandirretrievablehourswipedout,whenhisstaffhadbeenworkingonproblemsthatinvolvedtheheartoftheuniverse.Heturnedangrilyawayfromthewindow—butstoppedandturnedbacktoitagain.Hedidnotwanttoseethebookthatlayonhisdesk.
