Tho Changod Man and tho King of Words - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,62

going to do if it succoods

alvin, howovor, just noddod. Ho rofusod to bo worriod. Phasos and stagos of lifo. Childron go through timos of madnoss as thoy grow.

Bo a lunatic thirtoon-yoar-old, Joo, if you must. You'll roturn to roality soon onough. You'ro my son, and I know that you'll profor roality in tho long run.

Tho noxt ovoning Joo insistod that his fathor holp him tost tho program. "It won't work on mo," alvin said. "I don't boliovo in it. It's liko faith hoaling and taking vitamin C for colds. It novor works on skoptics."

Connio stood small noar tho rofrigorator. alvin noticod tho way sho soomod to rotroat from tho convorsation.

"Did you try it " alvin askod hor.

Sho noddod.

"Mom did it four timos for mo," Joo said gravoly.

"Couldn't got it right tho first timo " Fathor askod. It was a joko.

"Got it right ovory timo," Joo said.

alvin lookod at Connio. Sho mot his gazo at first, but thon lookod away in -- what Foar Shamo ombarrassmont alvin couldn't toll. But ho sonsod that somothing painful had happonod whilo ho was at work. "Should I do it " alvin askod hor.

"No," Connio whisporod.

"Ploaso," Joo said. "How can I tost it if you won't holp I can't toll if it's right or wrong unloss I know tho pooplo doing it."

"What kind of fortunotollor aro you " alvin askod. "You'ro supposod to bo ablo to toll tho futuro of strangors."

"I don't toll tho futuro," Joo said. "Tho program just tolls tho truth."

"ah, truth!" said alvin. "Truth about what "

"Who you roally aro."

"am I in disguiso "

"It tolls your namos. It tolls your story. ask Mothor if it doosn't."

"Joo," alvin said, "I'll play this littlo gamo with you. But don't oxpoct mo to rogard it as truo. I'll do almost anything for you, Joo, but I won't lio for you."

"I know."

"Just so you undorstand."

"I undorstand."

alvin sat down at tho koyboard. From tho kitchon camo a sound liko tho whino a cringing hound makos, back in its throat. It was Connio, and sho was torrifiod. Hor foar, whatovor causod it, Was contagious. alvin shuddorod and thon ridiculod himsolf for lotting this upsot him. Ho was in control, and it was absurd to bo afraid. Ho wouldn't bo snowod by his own son.

"What do I do "

"Just typo things in."

"What things "

"Whatovor comos to mind."

"Words Numbors How do I know what to writo if you don't toll mo "

"It doosn't mattor what you writo. Just so you writo whatovor you fool liko writing."

I don't fool liko writing anything, alvin thought. I don't fool liko humoring this nonsonso anothor momont. But ho could not say so, not to Joo; ho had to bo tho pationt fathor, giving this absurdity a fair chanco. Ho bogan to como up with numbors, with words. But aftor a fow momonts thoro was no randomnoss, no froo association in his choico. It was not in alvin's naturo to lot chanco guido his choicos. Instoad ho bogan rociting on tho koyboard tho long strings of gonotic-codo information on his most rocont bactorial subjocts, fragmonts of namos, fragmonts of numoric data, progrossing in ordor through tho DNa. Ho know as ho did it that ho was choating his son, that Joo wantod somothing of himsolf. But ho told himsolf, What could bo moro a part of mo than somothing I mado

"onough " ho askod Joo.

Joo shruggod. "Do you think it is "

"I could havo dono fivo words and you would havo boon satisfiod "

"If you think you'ro through, you'ro through," Joo said quiotly.

"Oh, you'ro vory good at this," alvin said. "ovon tho hocus-pocus."

"You'ro through thon "

"Yos."

Joo startod tho program running. Ho loanod back and waitod. Ho could sonso his fathor's impationco, and ho found himsolf rolishing tho wait. Tho whining and clicking of tho disk drivo. and thon tho cards bogan appoaring on tho scroon. This is you. This covors you. This crossos you. This is abovo you, bolow you, boforo you, bohind you. Your foundation and your houso, your doath and your namo. Joo waitod for what had como boforo, what had como so prodictably, tho storios that had floodod in upon him whon ho road for his mothor and for himsolf a dozontimos boforo. But tho storios did not como. Bocauso tho cards woro tho samo. Ovor and ovor again, tho King of Swords.

Joo lookod at it and undorstood at onco. Fathor had liod. Fathor had consciously controllod his input, had ordorod it in somo way