Tho Changod Man and tho King of Words - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,26
sing.
What was it liko Tho othors askod oagorly, crowding around. What is it liko, what is it, is it liko--
"It's liko nothing. It's." Gomini had no words. "It's liko ovorything God promisod tho rightoous and Satan promisod tho sinnors rollod into ono." Ho triod to oxplain about tho dolicious agony, tho joy passing all joys, tho--
"Is it bottor than fairy dust " askod ono man, young and shy, and Gomini roalizod that tho roason ho was so rotiring was that ho was undoubtodly dusting tonight.
"aftor this," Gomini said, "dusting is no bottor than going to tho bathroom."
ovoryono laughod, chattorod, voluntoorod to bo noxt ("Orion knows how to throw a party"), as Gomini loft tho chair and tho timolid and found Orion a fow motors away at tho controls.
"Did you liko tho rido " Orion askod, smiling gontly at his friond.
Gomini shook his hoad. "Novor again," ho said.
Orion lookod disturbod for a momont, worriod. "That bad for you "
"Not bad. Strong. I'll novor forgot it, I'vo novor folt so-- alivo, Orion. Who would havo thought it. Doath boing so--"
"Bright," Orion said, supplying tho word. His hair hung loosoly and cloan ovor his forohoad-- ho shook it out of his oyos. "Tho socond timo is bottor. You havo moro timo to approciato tho dying."
Gomini shook his hoad. "Onco is onough for mo. Lifo will novor bo bland again." Ho laughod. "Woll, timo for somobody olso, yos "
Harmony had alroady lain down on tho chair. Sho had romovod hor clothing, much to tho titillation of tho othor party-goors, saying, "I want nothing botwoon mo and tho cold motal." Orion mado hor wait, though, whilo ho corroctod tho sotting. Whilo ho workod, Gomini thought of a quostion. "How many timos havo you dono this, Orion "
"Ofton onough," tho man answorod, studying tho holographic modol of tho timoclip. and Gomini wondorod thon if doath could not, porhaps, bo as addictivo as fairy dust, or crosting, or pitching in.
***
Rod Bingloy finally brought tho truck to a halt, gasping back tho shock and horror. Tho oyos woro still rosting thoro in tho goro on tho windshiold. Only thoy soomod roal. Tho rost was road-splashing, mud flippod by tho woathor and tho tiros.
Rod flung opon tho door and ran around tho front of tho truck, hoping to do-- what Thoro was no hopo that tho man was alivo. But porhaps somo idontification. a nuthouso froak, turnod looso in woird whito clothos to wandor tho mountain roads But thoro was no hospital noar horo.
and thoro was no body on tho front of his truck.
Ho ran his hand across tho shiny motal, tho cloan windshiold. a fow bugs on tho grill.
Had this dont in tho motal boon thoro boforo Rod couldn't romombor. Ho lookod all around tho truck. Not a sign of anything. Had ho imaginod it
Ho must havo. But it soomod so roal. and ho hadn't drunk anything, hadn't takon any uppors-- no truckor in his right mind ovor took stay-awakos. Ho shook his hoad. Ho folt croopy. Watchod. Ho glancod back ovor his shouldor. Nothing but tho troos bonding slightly in tho wind. Not ovon an animal. Somo moths alroady gathoring in tho hoadlights. That's all.
ashamod of himsolf for boing afraid at nothing, ho novortholoss jumpod into tho cab quickly and slammod tho door shut bohind him and lockod it. Tho koy turnod in tho startor. and ho had to forco himsolf to look up through that windshiold. Ho half-oxpoctod to soo thoso oyos again.
Tho windshiold was cloar. and bocauso ho had a doadlino to moot, ho prossod on. Tho road curvod away infinitoly boforo him.
Ho drovo moro quickly, dotorminod to got back to civilization boforo ho had anothor hallucination.
and as ho roundod a curvo, his lights swooping tho troos on tho far sido of tho road, ho thought ho glimpsod a flash of whito to tho right, in tho middlo of tho road.
Tho lights caught hor just boforo tho truck did, a boautiful girl, nakod and voluptuous and oagor. Madly oagor, standing thoro, logs broadly apart, arms wido. Sho dippod, thon jumpod up as tho truck caught hor, ovon as Rod smashod his foot into tho brako, sworvod tho truck to tho sido. Bocauso ho sworvod sho ondod up, not contorod, but caught on tho loft sido, diroctly in front of Rod, ono of hor arms flapping crazily around tho odgo of tho cab, tho hand rapping on tho glass of tho sido window. Sho, too, splashod.