"And reality?"
"Reality is divinely indifferent, Richard. A mother doesn't care what part her child plays in his games; one day bad-guy, next day good-guy. The Is doesn't even know about our illusions and games. It only knows Itself, and us in its likeness, perfect and finished."
"I'm not sure I want to be perfect and finished. Talk about boredom."
"Look at the sky," he said, and it was such a quick subject-change that I looked at the sky. There was some broken cirrus, way up high, the first bit of moonlight silvering the edges.
"Pretty sky," I said.
"It is a perfect sky?"
"Well, it's always a perfect sky, Don."
"Are you telling me that even though it's changing every second, the sky is always a perfect sky?"
"Gee, I'm smart. Yes ?"
"And the sea is always a perfect sea, and it's always changing, too," he said "If perfection is stagnation, then heaven is a swamp! And the Is ain't hardly no swamp-cookie."
"Isn't hardly no swamp-cookie," I corrected, absently. "Perfect, and all the time changing. Yeah. I'll buy that."
"You bought it a long time ago, if you insist on time. "
I turned to him as we walked. "Doesn't it get boring for you, Don, staying on just this one dimension ?"
"Oh. Am I staying on just this one dimension ?" he said. "Are you ?"
"Why is it that everything I say is wrong?"
"Is everything you say wrong ?" he said.
"I think I'm in the wrong business."
"You think maybe real estate?" he said.
"Real estate or insurance. "
"There's a future in real estate, if you want one. "
"OK, I'm sorry " I said "I don't want a future. Or a past. I'd just as soon become a nice old Master of the World of Illusion. Looks like maybe in another week ?"
"Well, Richard, I hope not that long!" I looked at him carefully, but he wasn't smiling.
9
The Days blurred one into another. We flew as always, but I had stopped counting summer by the names of towns or the money we earned from passengers. I began counting the summer by the things I learned, the talks we had when flying was done, and by the miracles that happened now and then along the way to the time I knew at last that they aren't miracles at all.
Imagine
the universe beautiful
and just and
perfect,
the handbook said to me once.
Then be sure of one thing:
the
Is has imagined it
quite a bit better
than you
have.
10
The Afternoon was quiet . . . an occasional passenger now and then. Time between I practiced vaporizing clouds.
I have been a flight instructor, and I know that students always make easy things hard; I do know better, yet there was I a student again, frowning fiercely at my cumulus targets. I needed more teaching, for once, than practice. Shimoda was stretched out under the Fleet's wing, pretending to be asleep. I kicked him softly on the arm, and he opened his eyes.
"I can't do it," I said.
"Yes you can," he said, and closed his eyes again.
"Don, I've tried! Just when I think something's happening, the cloud strikes back and goes poufing up bigger than ever. "
He sighed and sat up. "Pick me a cloud. An easy one, please."
I chose the
"Reality is divinely indifferent, Richard. A mother doesn't care what part her child plays in his games; one day bad-guy, next day good-guy. The Is doesn't even know about our illusions and games. It only knows Itself, and us in its likeness, perfect and finished."
"I'm not sure I want to be perfect and finished. Talk about boredom."
"Look at the sky," he said, and it was such a quick subject-change that I looked at the sky. There was some broken cirrus, way up high, the first bit of moonlight silvering the edges.
"Pretty sky," I said.
"It is a perfect sky?"
"Well, it's always a perfect sky, Don."
"Are you telling me that even though it's changing every second, the sky is always a perfect sky?"
"Gee, I'm smart. Yes ?"
"And the sea is always a perfect sea, and it's always changing, too," he said "If perfection is stagnation, then heaven is a swamp! And the Is ain't hardly no swamp-cookie."
"Isn't hardly no swamp-cookie," I corrected, absently. "Perfect, and all the time changing. Yeah. I'll buy that."
"You bought it a long time ago, if you insist on time. "
I turned to him as we walked. "Doesn't it get boring for you, Don, staying on just this one dimension ?"
"Oh. Am I staying on just this one dimension ?" he said. "Are you ?"
"Why is it that everything I say is wrong?"
"Is everything you say wrong ?" he said.
"I think I'm in the wrong business."
"You think maybe real estate?" he said.
"Real estate or insurance. "
"There's a future in real estate, if you want one. "
"OK, I'm sorry " I said "I don't want a future. Or a past. I'd just as soon become a nice old Master of the World of Illusion. Looks like maybe in another week ?"
"Well, Richard, I hope not that long!" I looked at him carefully, but he wasn't smiling.
9
The Days blurred one into another. We flew as always, but I had stopped counting summer by the names of towns or the money we earned from passengers. I began counting the summer by the things I learned, the talks we had when flying was done, and by the miracles that happened now and then along the way to the time I knew at last that they aren't miracles at all.
Imagine
the universe beautiful
and just and
perfect,
the handbook said to me once.
Then be sure of one thing:
the
Is has imagined it
quite a bit better
than you
have.
10
The Afternoon was quiet . . . an occasional passenger now and then. Time between I practiced vaporizing clouds.
I have been a flight instructor, and I know that students always make easy things hard; I do know better, yet there was I a student again, frowning fiercely at my cumulus targets. I needed more teaching, for once, than practice. Shimoda was stretched out under the Fleet's wing, pretending to be asleep. I kicked him softly on the arm, and he opened his eyes.
"I can't do it," I said.
"Yes you can," he said, and closed his eyes again.
"Don, I've tried! Just when I think something's happening, the cloud strikes back and goes poufing up bigger than ever. "
He sighed and sat up. "Pick me a cloud. An easy one, please."
I chose the
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