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your glory!"
The people on the sidewalk backed even farther away or hurried off as Zurvan clapped his hands to
his eyes and screamed, "The light! The light!"
He fell forward on his arms and lay still for a moment.
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"Call an ambulance," someone said.
He rolled over, staring and blinking, and got unsteadily to his feet. "That won't be necessary," he said.
"I'm all right. Just a bit dizzy. I'll go home. It's near. Just leave me alone."
Jeff Caird, whispering, "The light! The light!" walked across the bridge over the canal. By the time
that he was a block away from Washington Square, he felt steady and strong.
("He's gone?" Tingle said.)
("Like the Indian that folded his tepee and stole away into the night," Wyatt Repp said.)
("He almost took me with him," Charlie Ohm said. "God! The light!")
("It was sword-shaped," Jim Dunski said. "It came down and lifted him on its blade and tossed him
up into blazing sky.")
Their voices were faint. They became a little louder when they discovered that Caird was now in
control of the body.
("Oh, my God," Ohm said, "we're sunk!")
("Look at it this way," Repp said. "Zurvan's bit the dust.
Now ... it's Caird's last stand. We'll have his scalp before this is over.")
Zurvan had not been sure that he had not been making up the voices of the others. Caird was equally
unsure. It did not matter that they might be imaginary. Nor did it matter that the voices might be those of
personae as real as his. What mattered was that he was master. And he knew what he was going todo.
He walked against the increasing wind toward the tall yellow vertical tube on the northwest corner of
the park. This was one of the entrances to the underground system of transportation belts and power and
water lines. A strip by its side warned that only SCC workers could use it. There were no workers or
uniformed organics in sight, and the few people who had lingered in the park were leaving it.
He stopped. Under the branches of an oak tree in the distance sat a lone figure. The man who had
been playing chess with Gril was walking away, shaking his head. Apparently, Gril had asked his partner
to finish the game. The man, however, would rather forfeit.
Caird stopped by the entrance to the tube.
("What now?" Ohm said faintly.)
A few leaves blown from the trees whirled by. The wind, cool with the promise of rain, lifted his hair.
A bicycler, bent over, feet pumping, sped by.
Gril stood up. His red beard and long red hair were ruffled by the wind. He gathered up the pieces,
put them in a case, folded the chessboard, and slid it into the case. Caird began running toward him. He
shouted, but the wind carried his words over his shoulder as if they were confetti.
Gril turned and saw Caird running at him. He crouched and looked to both sides as if he wanted to
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find the best way to flee. Then he drew himself up and waited.
30.
Caird slowed down and smiled to show Gril that he meant no harm. When he got within speaking
distance, he said, "I'm not an organic. Not now, anyway. Ijust wanted to talk to you for a minute,
Yankev Gad Gril. No longer than that, I swear it. I have urgent business; I won't detain you long."
Gril was regaining his color. He said in a deep rich voice, "You know my name. I don't know yours."
"No need to know it," Caird said. "Let's sit down for a minute. Too bad you put the board away. We
could have finished our game."
Gril frowned and said, "Our game?"
Caird considered saying, "I make the first move: 1 BL-WC-4. Then you make the second, BL-WC
SG."
That would be enough to tell Gril that this was his Tuesday's opponent. Last Tuesday's ex-opponent.
But Caird wanted him to know as little as possible about his identity.
("You don't know much about it, either," Ohm said.)
Instead, Jeff Caird said, "I know you're a daybreaker. No, don't be alarmed. I'm not going to turn
you in . .
He looked around. There were even fewer pedestrians and cyclists. A taxi, two people in the back
seat, went by. The rumbling was getting closer. The storm was flashing open its dark overcoat to expose
lightning.
Gril's small green eyes became smaller, and his thin lips squeezed even thinner. He said, "What do
you. want?"
"I want to satisfy my overwh~lming curiosity. That's all. I just want an answer to a question."
("Are you nuts?" Charlie Ohm said. "What if the organics come while you're indulging your craziness?
For Chrissakes, Caird! ")
"If I can answer it," Gril said.
Perhaps Ohm was right, and he was crazy. Or perhaps he was indulging the Tuesday organic in him.
Whatever the reason, he had to know the man's motive.
"From what I know of your case," Caird said, "you had no apparent reason to daybreak. Why did
you?"
Gril smiled and said, "If I told you, I don't think you'd understand."
("Any second now," Repp said, "any second now, the organics will be coming around the corner.
Maybe they won't wonder why you two are sitting under a tree that might get struck by lightning. Maybe
they won't come over and ask you why. And then maybe they won't ask for your ID. Maybe they won't
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already have your description.")
"Try me," Caird said.
"How much do you know about Orthodox Judaism?"
"Probably enough. I know your name, remember? I know who you are."
Gril looked across the table at Caird. He clutched the case so hard that his knuckles whitened. "Then
you know how important keeping the Shabbos, the Sabbath, is to us?"
Caird nodded.
"You know that the government does not forbid us to observe the Sabbath? It won't let us have a
synagogue, but it doesn't play favorites. No religion has a church or temple or mosque or synagogue."
"The people need the space those would occupy for housing
and factories," Caird said. "Also, religions are a form of malignant superstition, contrary to all . .
Gril held up a big red-haired hand.
"I don't want to get into an argument about the reasons."
"I don't either," Caird said, looking around. "It was just that . .
"Never mind. As I said, we are permitted to do what God enjoined us to do. We observe the
Sabbath. That is on the seventh day of the week, beginning with dusk on Friday and ending with the dusk
on Saturday evening."
"I understand," Caird said.
"Yes, but you don't understand how important it is that we do observe the ancient practice, the
ancient law. The law. Not the government's law. Ours. A much more ancient law." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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