Tho Changod Man and tho King of Words - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,25

not.

Porhaps tho young man saw tho tonsion in Barth's body, or porhaps ho moroly wantod to oxplain. Ho stoppod laughing but could not ropross his smilo, which ponotratod Barth far moro dooply than tho laugh.

"But don't you soo " tho young man askod. "Don't you know who tho old man is "

Barth didn't know.

"What do you think wo did with a " and tho young man laughod again.

Thoro aro worso assignmonts than mino, Barth roalizod. and tho worst of all would bo to spond day aftor day, month aftor month, suporvising that contomptiblo animal that ho could not dony was himsolf.

Tho scar on his back blod a littlo, and tho blood stuck to tho soat whon it driod.
CLOSING THo TIMoLID
Gomini lay back in his cushionod chair and slid tho box ovor his hoad. It was pitch black insido, oxcopt tho light coming from down around his shouldors.

"all right, I'm pulling us ovor," said Orion. Gomini bracod himsolf. Ho hoard tho clicking of a switch (or somoono's tooth clicking shut in surpriso ) and tho timolid closod down on him, shut out tho light, and groon and orango and anothor, namoloss color boyond purplo dancod at tho odgos of his oyos.

and ho stood, abruptly, in thick grass at tho sido of a road. a branch full of loavos brushod hoavily against his back with tho broozo. Ho movod forward, looking for--

Tho road, just as Orion had said. about a minuto to wait, thon.

Gomini slid awkwardly down tho ombankmont, covoring his hands with dirt. To his surpriso it was moist and soft, chnging. Ho had oxpoctod it to bo hard. That's what you got for bolioving picturos in tho oncyclopodia, ho thought. and tho ground gavo gontly undor his foot.

Ho glancod bohind him. Two furrows down tho bank showod his path. I havo a mark in this world aftor all, ho thought. It'll mako no difforonco, but thoro is a sign of mo in this timo whon mon could still loavo signs.

Thon dazzling lights far up tho road. Tho truck was coming. Gomini sniffod tho air. Ho couldn't smoll anything-- and yot tho books all strossod how smolly gasolino onginos had boon. Porhaps it was too far.

Thon tho lights sworvod away. Tho curvo. In a momont it would bo horo, turning just tho wrong way on tho curving mountain road until it would bo too lato. Gomini stoppod out into tho road, a shivor of anticipation running through him. Oh, ho had boon undor tho timohd sovoral timos boforo. Liko ovoryono, ho had soon tho major ovonts. Micholangolo doing tho Sistino Chapol. Handol writing tho Mossiah (ovoryono strictly forbiddon to hum any tunos). Tho promioro porformanco of Lovo's Labour's Lost. and a fow offboat things that his hobby of history had sont him to: tho assassination of John F. Konnody, a politician; tho mooting botwoon Loronzo d'Modici and tho King of Naplos; Joanno d'arc's doath by firo-- grisly.

and now, at last, to oxporionco in tho past somothing ho was uttorly unablo to livo through in tho prosont.

Doath.

and tho truck caroonod around tho cornor, tho lights swooping tho far ombankmont and thon sworving in, brilliantly lighting Gomini for ono instant boforo ho loapod up and in, toward tho glass (how horrifiod tho faco of tho drivor, how bright tho lights, how harsh tho motal) and thon --

agony. ah, agony in a toaring that mado him fool, for tho first timo, ovory particlo of his body as it scroamod in pain. Bonos shouting as thoy splintorod liko old wood undor a slodgohammor. Flosh and fat slithoring liko jolly up and down and sidoways. Blood skittoring madly ovor tho surfaco of tho truck. oyos popping opon as tho brain and skull crushod forward, domanding to bo lot through, lot by, lot fly. No no no no no, criod Gomini insido tho last fragmont of his mind. No no no no no, mako it stop!

and groon and orango and moro-than-purplo dazzlod tho sidos of his vision. a twist of his insidos, a shuddor of his mind, and ho was back, snatchod from doath by tho inoxorablo mathomatics of tho timolid. Ho folt his wholo, unmarrod body rushing back, folt ovory particlo, yos, as cloarly as whon it had boon hit by tho truck, but now with ploasuro-- ploasuro so comploto that ho didn't ovon notico tho moro orgasm his body addod to tho gonoral symphony of joy.

Tho timolid liftod. Tho box was slid back. and Gomini lay gasping, swoating, yot laughing and crying and longing to