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well... though I have not eaten in four years, and therefore would benefit
from the intake of appropriate nourishment."
"We'll get you some food, don't worry," Festina said. "Come into the studio
and sit down; I'll ask Lady Bell... no, I'll ask Lord Rye to bring you
something from the galley."
She attempted to take me by the arm and guide me through a nearby door. I did
not wish to be guided I was not some frail muddle-head whose brain might go
blank at any moment, I had simply been distracted by the notion of becoming a
prophet. There is nothing sinister about a momentary preoccupation; it was
most annoying for Festina to Show Undue Concern. Therefore, I shrugged off her
efforts to baby me, and surged boldly through the door myself.
I had never visited a broadcast studio before, but I expected such a place to
contain ostentatious banks of Technology. Instead, the room was just a large
empty space with jet-black carpet on the floor. The walls were glass, but with
a fuzzy feathered texture; this had the effect of suppressing echoes, for the
room was extremely quiet, as if some Uncanny Force were muting every sound we
made. The very air seemed to press against my eardrums, stifling noises before
they reached me: a most eerie and disturbing effect. Compared to the clutter
in the rest of the ship, an area with no knickknacks or dead animals should
have cheered my heart... but the atmosphere made me most edgy, as if I were
cut off from important auditory input that might warn me of danger.
Lady Bell, on the other hand, was clearly glad to reach the place after
fretting through so much delay. No sooner had she entered than she threw
herself down on the carpet... and the woolly black surface reshaped itself
beneath her, the floor acquiring bumps and hollows molded perfectly to the
lady's body. I had to admit she looked striking, the frost green of her skin
almost fluorescent against the heavy black background. This might have been
why the floor was so dark; she would not have stood out as well against the
ship's clear glass.
"Sit down, sit down," she said with expansive cheer, gesturing to the floor
beside her. "Make yourself comfortable. Can my darling husband get you
anything? Accelerants? Placations? Our synthesizers have complete
pharmaceutical indices for Earthlings and Divians; it'll only take a second to
whip up your favorite stimulant."
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"How about food?" Festina said, making no effort to seat herself. "Something
humans can digest." She glanced in my direction. "Preferably transparent."
I lowered my head, trying not to show shame. It is mortifying when your
Faithful Sidekick believes you are crazed with hunger and she makes a scene to
ensure you are properly fed. I knew I could not the from starvation, but I was
not so certain about embarrassment.
Fortunately, Lady Bell was not such a one as could feel urgency about someone
else's problem. She therefore did not make a fuss:Oh yes, we must quickly
bring sustenance for the poor dear and make her lie down in the meantime. She
merely told Rye, "See to that, darling!" and puckered several of her cranial
orifices at him. He muttered something in the universal language of
unappreciated persons and slunk out of the studio.
"Now everyone just sit down!" Lady Bell said brightly. "I don't want you
pacing during the show. Pacing will upset the audience not to mention that the
lights and cameras will have a hard time following you. Shadows on one's face
can completely ruin credibility. Sit down, sit down!"
"Where are the cameras?" I asked, looking around the blank room.
"Built into the walls, dear."
"But the walls are clear glass. They do not contain cameras."
"You'reclear glass, and you contain all kinds of things: lungs, kidneys, a
heart... pity you only have one of those, but let's pray it holds out till the
recording is over. And your heart will last ten times longer if you justsit
down."
Grudgingly, I lowered myself to the floor. I do not enjoyanyone offering
advice about my health; and I knew I would not enjoy the floor either. Sure
enough, the moment my bottom touched the carpet, it began to squirm beneath
me. (The carpet, I mean, not my bottom.) A sizable gully sank down to
accommodate my feet, while a woolly black hump rose to support my back. I
grant that the seat was comfortable like reclining on a mound of dead sheep
whose bones have been softened with hammers. The problem was I did notwish to
be comfortable. I did not wish to be soothed because...
...I worried I would not retain consciousness.
There. I have said it. Though I told Festina I was fine and resented her
suggesting otherwise, I feared my mind would go blank if I allowed myself to
relax. Perhaps it would happen even if I didnot relax. No matter how hard I
fought the Tiredness, I still was most terrified I would sink into the cozy
carpet and my brain would cease to function. Mental emptiness had swallowed me
too often in the past few hours; it seemed as if I could not spend an idle
minute without slipping away from the world. Being forced to sit in a comfy
place was almost a sentence of execution... but of course I could not say that
for fear of being called a coward.
So I sat and cringed and shivered.
"Excellent," Lady Bell said as the others also claimed sections of carpet.
Festina sat right beside me, probably wishing to be within reach in case my
brain dribbled out my ears: a gesture which infuriated me greatly.
"Now," said Bell, "we'll record everything before we broadcast, so we can
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edit out slips of the tongue, and perhaps passages of testimony that don't
work... though I don't want anyone to be self-conscious, just say whatever you
want and letme decide whether you're being tedious and pedantic. By the way, I
hope you can all take direction. And perhaps it would be best to do vocal
warm-ups right now: run through some tongue-twisters, practice speaking from
the diaphragm. You all have diaphragms, correct? Except for you, cloud man, I
don't know what you have. Why don'tyou practice holding a nice solid shape
rather than wavering about. Try to look like aperson instead of apukka -ball.
And make your arms bulgy to suggest muscles. Viewers like muscles. Taut lean
muscles gleaming with sweat. Perforated with tight puckered orifices and
preferably highlighted in at least two of the primary colors. Umm, well...
work on that, do your best. Meanwhile, I'll call a newsbroker I know on
Jalmut have him put out the word that we'll soon have some hydrogen-hot
footage for sale."
She raised her voice slightly and said something in Cashlingese. I did not
know whom she was addressing; but a moment later, a gusty voice whooshed and
fribbled an answer from the ceiling. Either the words came from another person
elsewhere in the ship, or it was the voice ofUnfettered Destiny itself: what [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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