Read Online Dangerous Visions by edited by Harlan Ellison - Free Book Online
Authors: edited by Harlan Ellison
Tags: Science-Fiction
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terror.
"No," she whimpered.
The pain flooding from her shattered soul was exquisite in its intensity. Cassiday accepted the full flood of it. Then she clenched her fist, and the drug entered her metabolism, and she grew peaceful once more.
Observe the next one:
with a friend .
The annunciator said, "Mr. Cassiday is here."
"Let him enter," replied Mirabel Gunryk Cassiday Milman Reed.
The door-sphincter irised open and Cassiday stepped through, into onyx and marble splendor. Beams of auburn palisander formed a polished wooden framework on which Mirabel lay, and it was obvious that she reveled in the sensation of hard wood against plump flesh. A cascade of crystal-colored hair tumbled to her shoulders. She had been Cassiday's for eight months in 2346, and she had been a slender, timid girl then, but now he could barely detect the outlines of that girl in this pampered mound.
"You've married well," he observed.
"Third time lucky," Mirabel said. "Sit down? Drink? Shall I adjust the environment?"
"It's fine." He remained standing. "You always wanted a mansion, Mirabel. My most intellectual wife, you were, but you had this love of comfort. You're comfortable now."
"Very."
"Happy?"
"I'm comfortable," Mirabel said. "I don't read much any more, but I'm comfortable."
Cassiday noticed what seemed to be a blanket crumpled in her lap—purple with golden threads, soft, idle, clinging close. It had several eyes. Mirabel kept her hands spread out over it.
"From Ganymede?" he asked. "A pet?"
"Yes. My husband bought it for me last year. It's very precious to me."
"Very precious to anybody. I understand they're expensive."
"But lovable," said Mirabel. "Almost human. Quite devoted. I suppose you'll think I'm silly, but it's the most important thing in my life now. More than my husband, even. I love it, you see. I'm accustomed to having others love me, but there aren't many things that I've been able to love."
"May I see it?" Cassiday said mildly.
"Be careful."
"Certainly." He gathered up the Ganymedean creature. Its texture was extraordinary, the softest he had ever encountered. Something fluttered apprehensively within the flat body of the animal. Cassiday detected a parallel wariness coming from Mirabel as he handled her pet. He stroked the creature. It throbbed appreciatively. Bands of iridescence shimmered as it contracted in his hands.
She said, "What are you doing now, Dick? Still working for the spaceline?"
He ignored the question. "Tell me the line from Shakespeare, Mirabel. About the flies. The flies and wanton boys."
Furrows sprouted in her pale brow. "It's from Lear ," she said. "Wait. Yes. ' As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport .'"
"That's the one," Cassiday said. His big hands knotted quickly about the blanket-like being from Ganymede. It turned a dull gray, and reedy fibers popped from its ruptured surface. Cassiday dropped it to the floor. The surge of horror and pain and loss that welled from Mirabel nearly stunned him, but he accepted it and transmitted it.
"Flies," he explained. "Wanton boys. My sport, Mirabel. I'm a god now, did you know that?" His voice was calm and cheerful. "Good-by. Thank you."
One more awaits the visit:
swelling with new life .
Lureen Holstein Cassiday, who was thirty-one years old, dark-haired, large-eyed, and seven months pregnant, was the only one of his wives who had not remarried. Her room in New York was small and austere. She had been a chubby girl when she had been Cassiday's two-month wife five years ago, and she was even more chubby now, but how much of the access of new meat was the result of the pregnancy Cassiday did not know.
"Will you marry now?" he asked.
Smiling, she shook her head. "I've got money, and I value my independence. I wouldn't let myself get into another deal like the one we had. Not with anyone."
"And the baby? You'll have it?"
She nodded savagely. "I worked hard to get it! You think it's easy? Two
"No," she whimpered.
The pain flooding from her shattered soul was exquisite in its intensity. Cassiday accepted the full flood of it. Then she clenched her fist, and the drug entered her metabolism, and she grew peaceful once more.
Observe the next one:
with a friend .
The annunciator said, "Mr. Cassiday is here."
"Let him enter," replied Mirabel Gunryk Cassiday Milman Reed.
The door-sphincter irised open and Cassiday stepped through, into onyx and marble splendor. Beams of auburn palisander formed a polished wooden framework on which Mirabel lay, and it was obvious that she reveled in the sensation of hard wood against plump flesh. A cascade of crystal-colored hair tumbled to her shoulders. She had been Cassiday's for eight months in 2346, and she had been a slender, timid girl then, but now he could barely detect the outlines of that girl in this pampered mound.
"You've married well," he observed.
"Third time lucky," Mirabel said. "Sit down? Drink? Shall I adjust the environment?"
"It's fine." He remained standing. "You always wanted a mansion, Mirabel. My most intellectual wife, you were, but you had this love of comfort. You're comfortable now."
"Very."
"Happy?"
"I'm comfortable," Mirabel said. "I don't read much any more, but I'm comfortable."
Cassiday noticed what seemed to be a blanket crumpled in her lap—purple with golden threads, soft, idle, clinging close. It had several eyes. Mirabel kept her hands spread out over it.
"From Ganymede?" he asked. "A pet?"
"Yes. My husband bought it for me last year. It's very precious to me."
"Very precious to anybody. I understand they're expensive."
"But lovable," said Mirabel. "Almost human. Quite devoted. I suppose you'll think I'm silly, but it's the most important thing in my life now. More than my husband, even. I love it, you see. I'm accustomed to having others love me, but there aren't many things that I've been able to love."
"May I see it?" Cassiday said mildly.
"Be careful."
"Certainly." He gathered up the Ganymedean creature. Its texture was extraordinary, the softest he had ever encountered. Something fluttered apprehensively within the flat body of the animal. Cassiday detected a parallel wariness coming from Mirabel as he handled her pet. He stroked the creature. It throbbed appreciatively. Bands of iridescence shimmered as it contracted in his hands.
She said, "What are you doing now, Dick? Still working for the spaceline?"
He ignored the question. "Tell me the line from Shakespeare, Mirabel. About the flies. The flies and wanton boys."
Furrows sprouted in her pale brow. "It's from Lear ," she said. "Wait. Yes. ' As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport .'"
"That's the one," Cassiday said. His big hands knotted quickly about the blanket-like being from Ganymede. It turned a dull gray, and reedy fibers popped from its ruptured surface. Cassiday dropped it to the floor. The surge of horror and pain and loss that welled from Mirabel nearly stunned him, but he accepted it and transmitted it.
"Flies," he explained. "Wanton boys. My sport, Mirabel. I'm a god now, did you know that?" His voice was calm and cheerful. "Good-by. Thank you."
One more awaits the visit:
swelling with new life .
Lureen Holstein Cassiday, who was thirty-one years old, dark-haired, large-eyed, and seven months pregnant, was the only one of his wives who had not remarried. Her room in New York was small and austere. She had been a chubby girl when she had been Cassiday's two-month wife five years ago, and she was even more chubby now, but how much of the access of new meat was the result of the pregnancy Cassiday did not know.
"Will you marry now?" he asked.
Smiling, she shook her head. "I've got money, and I value my independence. I wouldn't let myself get into another deal like the one we had. Not with anyone."
"And the baby? You'll have it?"
She nodded savagely. "I worked hard to get it! You think it's easy? Two
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