Конец вечности
Life-Plotter
HoweasyitwastoslipbacktothoughtsofNoys.
Eventuallyhehadfallenasleepthatnight,andheawokeindaylight,withbrightnessshiningthroughtranslucentwallsallaboutuntilitwasasthoughhehadawakenedonacloudinamistymorningsky.
Noyswaslaughingdownathim."Goodness,itwashardtowakeyou."
Harlan’sfirstreflexiveactionwasascrabbleforbedclothesthatweren’tthere.Thenmemoryarrivedandhestaredatherhollowly,hisfaceburningred.Howshouldhefeelaboutthis?
Butthensomethingelseoccurredtohimandheshottoasittingposition."Itisn’tpastone,isit?FatherTime!"
"It’sonlyeleven.You’vegotbreakfastwaitingandlotsoftime."
"Thanks,"hemumbled.
"Theshowercontrolsareallsetandyourclothesareallready."
Whatcouldhesay?"Thanks,"hemumbled.
Heavoidedhereyesduringthemeal.Shesatoppositehim,noteating,herchinburiedinthepalmofonehand,herdarkhaircombedthicklytoonesideandhereyelashespreternaturallylong.
Shefollowedeverygesturehemadewhilehekepthiseyesloweredandsearchedforthebittershameheknewheoughttofeel.
Shesaid,"Wherewillyoubegoingatone?"
"Aeroballgame,"hemuttered,"Ihavetheticket."
"That’stherubbergame.AndImissedthewholeseasonbecauseofjustskippingthetime,youknow.Who’llwinthegame,Andrew?"
Hefeltoddlyweakatthesoundofhisfirstname.Heshookhisheadcurtlyandtriedtolookaustere.(Itusedtohavebeensoeasy.)
"Butsurelyyouknow.
