Read Online Night Lamp by Jack Vance - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jack Vance
Tags: Science-Fiction
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Institute in the Department of Aesthetic Philosophy. You may submit your invoices to the Health Services Bursar.”
Dr. Fiorio scowled. “They are over-scrupulous at the Bursar’s office,” he said with a sniff. “On occasion they make peevish difficulties over a sol or two. But no matter! We will see Jaro in the morning.”
Four
1
Late in the afternoon, when Jaro returned from school, he found Hilyer and Althea waiting for him in the living room: an unusual situation. Althea jumped to her feet and poured three small glasses of the special Altengelb and gave one to Jaro. This was the wine of occasion, and Jaro sensed that something significant was afoot.
After a perfunctory sip, Hilyer cleared his throat. When he spoke, his discomfort caused him to sound far more pompous than he would have liked. “Jaro? your mother and I were very much surprised to learn of your problems. It’s a pity you did not confide in us sooner.”
Jaro heaved a small private sigh. The matter had entered that inevitable phase which he both dreaded and welcomed. Now he wanted to explain everything in a great spate of communication—all his awe, fear, confusion, his spasms of claustrophobic panic; his dread of the unknown. He wanted to express in a single burst of words all the love and gratitude he felt for these two kindly folk, who now might be troubled or even damaged on his account—but when he spoke, the words sounded stiff and artificial. “I’m sorry that this thing has worried you. I didn’t want it to happen that way; I thought I could work it out by myself”
Hilyer gave a crisp nod. “That’s all very well, but—”
Althea broke in. “To make a long story short, we think that you should consult with specialists. We have arranged an appointment for you with Dr. Fiorio of FWG Associates. He is well thought of, and we hope that he will be able to help you.”
Jaro sipped the wine, though he did not like it very much.
“How long will it take?”
Hilyer shrugged. “As to that, we can’t be certain, since no one knows what is causing the trouble. Your first appointment, by the way, is tomorrow morning at Buntoon House in the Celece. It’s a very nice place.”
Jaro was startled. “So soon?”
“The sooner the better. Your school has started spring recess; the time could not be more convenient.”
“I suppose not.”
Althea stroked Jaro’s shoulder. “Naturally, we will be with you. There is no reason to worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
2
Not long after dinner Jaro bade Hilyer and Althea goodnight and took himself off to bed. For a long time he lay staring into the dark, wondering what sort of therapy would be inflicted upon him. It could not be too ferocious; otherwise, FWG Associates would soon find themselves short of repeat customers.
One thing seemed certain: they would try to resolve the mysteries of his early years, which was all to the good. Jaro could offer few clues: the image of a gaunt man, silhouetted against the twilight of a distant world; a glimpse across a romantic garden, illuminated by a pair of large pale moons. And then: the voice!
A great mystery! Where did the voice originate? Jaro knew a few superficial facts regarding telepathy; perhaps here was the answer. He might have become the receptor for someone else’s tragic emotions!
Jaro often had started to confide in the Faths, but each time he had drawn back. The Faths, so kind and loving, tended to overreact. Hilyer dealt with emergencies in a rather impractical way, meticulously organizing every detail of the necessary countermeasures. Althea would alternately swoop back and forth across the room, then hug him until he was breathless, meanwhile reproaching him for his secrecy. Together, they would extract promises to report every future malaise, ache, pang, twinge and itch, no matter how trivial, since they knew best what was good for him. At least, thought Jaro, the affair would be out of his jurisdiction, and who knows what might
Dr. Fiorio scowled. “They are over-scrupulous at the Bursar’s office,” he said with a sniff. “On occasion they make peevish difficulties over a sol or two. But no matter! We will see Jaro in the morning.”
Four
1
Late in the afternoon, when Jaro returned from school, he found Hilyer and Althea waiting for him in the living room: an unusual situation. Althea jumped to her feet and poured three small glasses of the special Altengelb and gave one to Jaro. This was the wine of occasion, and Jaro sensed that something significant was afoot.
After a perfunctory sip, Hilyer cleared his throat. When he spoke, his discomfort caused him to sound far more pompous than he would have liked. “Jaro? your mother and I were very much surprised to learn of your problems. It’s a pity you did not confide in us sooner.”
Jaro heaved a small private sigh. The matter had entered that inevitable phase which he both dreaded and welcomed. Now he wanted to explain everything in a great spate of communication—all his awe, fear, confusion, his spasms of claustrophobic panic; his dread of the unknown. He wanted to express in a single burst of words all the love and gratitude he felt for these two kindly folk, who now might be troubled or even damaged on his account—but when he spoke, the words sounded stiff and artificial. “I’m sorry that this thing has worried you. I didn’t want it to happen that way; I thought I could work it out by myself”
Hilyer gave a crisp nod. “That’s all very well, but—”
Althea broke in. “To make a long story short, we think that you should consult with specialists. We have arranged an appointment for you with Dr. Fiorio of FWG Associates. He is well thought of, and we hope that he will be able to help you.”
Jaro sipped the wine, though he did not like it very much.
“How long will it take?”
Hilyer shrugged. “As to that, we can’t be certain, since no one knows what is causing the trouble. Your first appointment, by the way, is tomorrow morning at Buntoon House in the Celece. It’s a very nice place.”
Jaro was startled. “So soon?”
“The sooner the better. Your school has started spring recess; the time could not be more convenient.”
“I suppose not.”
Althea stroked Jaro’s shoulder. “Naturally, we will be with you. There is no reason to worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
2
Not long after dinner Jaro bade Hilyer and Althea goodnight and took himself off to bed. For a long time he lay staring into the dark, wondering what sort of therapy would be inflicted upon him. It could not be too ferocious; otherwise, FWG Associates would soon find themselves short of repeat customers.
One thing seemed certain: they would try to resolve the mysteries of his early years, which was all to the good. Jaro could offer few clues: the image of a gaunt man, silhouetted against the twilight of a distant world; a glimpse across a romantic garden, illuminated by a pair of large pale moons. And then: the voice!
A great mystery! Where did the voice originate? Jaro knew a few superficial facts regarding telepathy; perhaps here was the answer. He might have become the receptor for someone else’s tragic emotions!
Jaro often had started to confide in the Faths, but each time he had drawn back. The Faths, so kind and loving, tended to overreact. Hilyer dealt with emergencies in a rather impractical way, meticulously organizing every detail of the necessary countermeasures. Althea would alternately swoop back and forth across the room, then hug him until he was breathless, meanwhile reproaching him for his secrecy. Together, they would extract promises to report every future malaise, ache, pang, twinge and itch, no matter how trivial, since they knew best what was good for him. At least, thought Jaro, the affair would be out of his jurisdiction, and who knows what might
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