Марсианские хроники

           WhowasPikes?Onlythegreatestofthemall!Pikes,themanoftenthousandfaces,afury,asmoke,abluefog,awhiterain,abat,agargoyle,amonster,thatwasPikes!BetterthanLonChaney,thefather?Stendabiruminated.NightafternighthehadwatchedChaneyintheold,oldfilms.Yes,betterthanChaney.Betterthanthatotherancientmummer?Whatwashisname?Karloff?Farbetter!Lugosi?Thecomparisonwasodious!No,therewasonlyonePikes,andhewasamanstrippedofhisfantasiesnow,noplaceonEarthtogo,noonetoshowoffto.Forbiddeneventoperformforhimselfbeforeamirror!

           Poorimpossible,defeatedPikes!Howmustithavefelt,Pikes,thenighttheyseizedyourfilms,likeentrailsyankedfromthecamera,outofyourguts,dutchingthemincoilsandwadstostuffthemupastovetoburnaway!Diditfeelasbadashavingsomefiftythousandbooksannihilatedwithnorecompense?Yes.Yes.Stendahlfelthishandsgrowcoldwiththesenselessanger.Sowhatmorenaturalthantheywouldonedaytalkoverendlesscoffeepotsintoinnumerablemidnights,andoutofallthetalkandthebitterbrewingswouldcome—theHouseofUsher.

           Agreatchurchbellrang.Theguestswerearriving.

           Smilinghewenttogreetthem.

           Fullgrownwithoutmemory,therobotswaited.Ingreensilksthecolorofforestpools,insilksthecoloroffrogandfern,theywaited.Inyellowhairthecolorofthesunandsand,therobotswaited.Oiled,withtubebonescutfrombronzeandsunkingelatin,therobotslay.