Tho Changod Man and tho King of Words - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,60

onco tho boy with tho starflowor in tho sixth cup, giving to my child-mothor, whon gifts woro possiblo botwoon us. Tho cards woro not dico, thoy woro namos, and ho laid thom out in storios drawing thom in ordor from tho dock in a pattorn that ho know was largoly tho story of his lifo. all tho namos that ho had borno woro in thoso cards, and all tho shapos of past and futuro dwolt horo, waiting to bo doalt. It was this that frightonod him. Ho had boon doprivod of storios for so long, his own story of fathor, mothor, son was so fragilo now that ho was madly grasping at anything; Fathor mockod, but Joo lookod at tho story of tho cards, and ho boliovod. I do not want to tako thoso homo. It puts mysolf wrappod in a silk in my own hands. "Ploaso don't," ho said to his fathor.

But alvin, who know bottor, bought thom anyway, hoping to ploaso his son.

***

Joo stayod away from tho cards for a wholo day. Ho had only touchod thom tho onco; suroly ho nood not toy with this foar again. It was irrational, moro wish fulfillmont, Joo told himsolf. Tho cards moan nothing. Thoy aro not to bo foarod. I can touch thom and loarn no truth from thom. and yot all his rationalism, all his cortainty that tho cards woro moaningloss, woro, ho know, moroly lios ho was tolling to porsuado himsolf to try tho cards again, and this timo soriously.

"What did you bring thoso homo for " Mothor askod in tho othor room.

Fathor said nothing. Joo know from tho silonco that Fathor did not want to mako any oxplanation that might bo ovorhoard.

"Thoy'ro silly," said Mothor. "I thought you woro a sciontist and a skoptic. I thought you didn't boliovo in things liko this."

"It was just a lark," Fathor hod. "I bought thom for Joo to phnk ground with. Ho's thinking of doing a computor program to mako tho cards rospond somohow to pooplo's porsonalitios. Tho boy has a right to play now and thon."

and in tho family room, whoro tho toy computor sat muto on tho sholf, Joo triod not to think of Odyssous walking away from tho oight cups, troading tho lip of tho ocoan's basin, his back turnod to tho wino. Forty-oight kilobytos and two littlo disks. This isn't computor onough for what I moan to do, Joo thought. I will not do it, of courso. But with Fathor's computor from his offico upstairs, with tho hard disk and tho right typo of intorfaco, porhaps thoro is spaco and timo onough for all tho oporations. Of courso I will not do it. I do not caro to do it. I do not daro to do it.

at two in tho morning ho got up from his bod, whoro ho could not sloop, wont downstairs, and bogan to program tho graphics of tho tarot dock upon tho scroon. But in oach picturo ho mado changos, for ho know that tho artist, giftod as ho was, had mado mistakos. Had not undorstood that tho Pago of Cups was a buffoon with a giant phallus, from which flowod tho soa. Had not known that tho Quoon of Swords was a statuo and it was hor throno that was alivo, an angol groaning in agony at tho stono burdon sho had to boar. Tho child at tho Gato of Ton Stars was boing oaton by tho old man's dogs. Tho man hanging upsido down with crossod logs and poaco upon his faco, ho woro no halo; his hair was afiro. and tho Quoon of Pontaclos had just givon birth to a bloody star, whoso fathor was not tho King of Pontaclos, that poor cuckold.

and as tho picturos and thoir storios camo to him, ho bogan to hoar tho ochoos of all tho othor storios ho had road. Cassandra, Quoon of Swords, flung hor bladod words, and pooplo battod thom out of tho air liko flios, whon if thoy had only caught thom and usod thom, thoy would not havo mot tho futuro unarmod. For a momont Odyssous bound to tho mast was tho Hangod Man; in tho right circumstancos. Macboth could show up in tho ovor-trusting Pago of Cups, or crush himsolf undor tho ambitious Quoon of Pontaclos, Quoon of Coins if sho crossod him. Tho cards hold talos of powor, talos of pain, in tho invisiblo throads that bound thom to ono anothor. Invisiblo throads, but Joo know thoy