Конец вечности
Life-Plotter
"Theywouldn’tlikemetobelate,"hesaid,yetthoughtlonginglyjustthesameofthetwo-daymarginallowedforinhischart.
Sheadjustedthecontrolsofamusicalinstrumentthatplayedsoftandcomplicatedstrainsoutofitsowncreativebowelsbystrikingnotesandchordsinarandommanner;therandomnessweightedinfavorofpleasantcombinationsbyintricatemathematicalformulae.Themusiccouldnomorerepeatitselfthancouldsnowflakes,andcouldnomorefailofbeauty.
ThroughthehypnosisofsoundHarlangazedatNoysandhisthoughtswoundtightlyabouther.Whatwouldshebeinthenewdispensation?Afishwife,afactorygirl,themotherofsix,fat,ugly,diseased?Whatevershewas,shewouldnotrememberHarlan.HewouldhavebeennopartofherlifeinanewReality.Andwhatevershewouldbethen,shewouldnotbeNoys.
Hedidnotsimplyloveagirl.(Strangely,heusedtheword"love"inhisownthoughtsforthefirsttimeanddidnotevenpauselongenoughtostareatthestrangethingandwonderatit.)Helovedacomplexoffactors;herchoiceofclothes,herwalk,hermannerofspeech,hertricksofexpression.AquartercenturyoflifeandexperienceinagivenRealityhadgoneintothemanufactureofallthat.ShehadnotbeenhisNoysinthepreviousRealityofaphysioyearearlier.ShewouldnotbehisNoysinthenextReality.
ThenewNoysmight,conceivably,bebetterinsomeways,butheknewonethingverydefinitely.HewantedthisNoyshere,theonehesawatthismoment,theoneofthisReality.
