27 Short Stories - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,201

was like watching one of those out-of-date educational films in grade school. This kid was clearly caught in a time warp

Still, it wouldn't have turned Tim out of his planned route -- the circuit of Elm, Pisgah Church , Yanceyville, and Cone -- if it hadn't been for the bag of papers saddled over the rack on the back of the bike. Printed on the canvas it said, "The Greensboro Daily News.

Now, if there was one thing Tim was sure of, it was the fact that Greensboro was a one-newspaper town, unless you counted the weekly "Rhinoceros Times," and sure, maybe somebody had clung to an old canvas paper delivery bag with the "Daily News" logo -- but that bag looked new

It's not as if Tim had any schedule to keep, any urgent appointments. So he turned around and jogged after the kid, and when the brand-new ancient bicycle turned right on Glenside, Tim was not all that far behind him. He lost sight of him after Glenside made its sweeping left turn to the north, but Tim was still close enough to hear, in the still morning air, the faint sound of a rolled-up newspaper hitting the gravel of a country driveway

He found the driveway on the inside of a leftward curve. The streetlight showed the paper lying there, but Tim couldn't see the masthead or even the headline without jogging onto the gravel, his shoes making such a racket that he half-expected to see lights go on inside the house

He bent over and looked. The rubber band had broken and the paper had unrolled itself, so now it lay flat in the driveway. Dominating the front page was a familiar picture. The headline under it said: Babe Ruth, Baseball'sHome Run King, DiesCancer of Throat Claims LifeOf Noted Major League StarI thought he died years ago, Tim thought

Then he noticed another headline: Inflation Curb Signed By TrumanPresident Says Bill InadequateTruman? Tim looked at the masthead. It wasn't the "News and Record,

it was the "Greensboro Daily News." And under the masthead it said: Tuesday Morning, August 17, 1948 ... price: five cents.What kind of joke was this, and who was it being played on? Not Tim -- nobody could have known he'd come down Yanceyville Road today, or that he'd follow the paperboy to this driveway

A footstep on gravel. Tim looked up. An old woman stood at the head of the driveway, gazing at him. Tim stood, blushing, caught. She said nothing

"Sorry," said Tim. "I didn't open it, the rubber band must have broken when it hit the gravel, I --

He looked down, meant to reach down, pick up the paper, carry it to her. But there was no paper there. Nothing. Right at his feet, where he had just seen the face of George Herman "Babe" Ruth, there was only gravel and moist dirt and dewy grass

He looked at the woman again. Still she said nothing

"I ..." Tim couldn't think of a thing to say. Good morning, ma'am

I've been hallucinating on your driveway. Have a nice day. "Look, I'm sorry.

She smiled faintly. "That's OK. I never get it into the house anymore these days.

Then she walked back onto the porch and into the house, leaving him alone on the driveway

It was stupid, but Tim couldn't help looking around for a moment just to see where the paper might have gone. It had seemed so real

But real things don't just disappear

He couldn't linger in the driveway any longer. An elderly woman might easily get frightened at having a stranger on her property in the wee hours and call the police. Tim walked back to the road and headed back the way he had come. Only he couldn't walk, he had to break into a jog and then into a run, until it was a headlong gallop down the hill and around the curve toward Yanceyville Road

Why was he so afraid? The only explanation was that he had hallucinated it, and it wasn't as if you could run away from hallucinations. You carried those around in your own head. And they were nothing new to him. He'd been living on the edge of madness every since the accident. That's why he didn't go to work, didn't even have a job anymore -- the compassionate leave had long since expired, replaced by a vague promise of "come back anytime, you know there's always a job here for you.

But he couldn't go back to work, could only leave the house to go jogging