Read Online The Dream Master by Roger Zelazny - Free Book Online

in the bottom of the glass instead.
    Jill was clutching his bicep then, drawing his attention back to the floor.
    As the spotlight tortured the spectrum, the black robot raised the silver one high above his head, slowly, slowly, and then commenced spinning with her in that position-arms outstretched, back arched, legs scissored—very slowly, at first. Then faster.
    Suddenly they were whirling with an unbelievable speed, and the gelatins rotated faster and faster.
    Render shook his head to clear it.
    They were moving so rapidly that they had to fall—human or robot. But they didn’t. They were a mandala. They were a gray-form uniformity. Render looked down.
    Then slowing, and slower, slower. Stopped.
    The music stopped.
    Blackness followed. Applause filled it.
    When the lights came on again the two robots were standing statue-like, facing the audience. Very, very slowly, they bowed.
    The applause increased.
    Then they turned and were gone.
    Then the music came on and the light was clear again. A babble of voices arose. Render slew the Kraken.
    “What d’you think of that?” she asked him.
    Render made his face serious and said: “Am I a man dreaming I am a robot, or a robot dreaming I am a man?” He grinned, then added: “I don’t know.”
    She punched his shoulder gaily at that and he observed that she was drunk.
    “I am not,” she protested. “Not much, anyhow. Not as much as you.”
    “Still, I think you ought to see a doctor about it. Like me. Like now. Let’s get out of here and go for a drive.”
    “Not yet, Charlie. I want to see them once more, huh? Please?”
    “If I have another drink I won’t be able to see that far.”
    “Then order a cup of coffee.”
    “Yaagh!”
    “Then order a beer.”
    “I’ll suffer without.”
    There were people on the dance floor now, but Render’s feet felt like lead.
    He lit a cigarette.
    “So you had a dog talk to you today?”
    “Yes. Something very disconcerting about that…”
    “Was she pretty?”
    “It was a boy dog. And boy, was he ugly!”
    “Silly. I mean his mistress.”
    “You know I never discuss cases, Jill.”
    “You told me about her being blind and about the dog.” All I want to know is if she’s pretty.”
    “Well… Yes and no.” He bumped her under the table and gestured vaguely. “Well, you know…”
    “Same thing all the way around,” she told the waiter who had appeared suddenly out of an adjacent pool of darkness, nodded, and vanished as abruptly.
    “There go my good intentions,” sighed Render. “See how you like being examined by a drunken sot, that’s all I can say.”
    “You’ll sober up fast, you always do. Hippocratics and all that.”
    He sniffed, glanced at his watch.
    “I have to be in Connecticut tomorrow. Pulling Pete out of that damned school…”
    She sighed, already tired of the subject.
    “I think you worry too much about him. Any kid can bust an ankle. It’s a part of growing up. I broke my wrist when I was seven. It was an accident. It’s not the school’s fault those things sometimes happen.”
    “Like hell,” said Render, accepting his dark drink from the dark tray the dark man carried. “If they can’t do a good job I’ll find someone who can.”
    She shrugged.
    “You’re the boss. All I know is what I read in the papers.
    “—And you’re still set on Davos, even though you know you meet a better class of people at Saint Moritz?” she added.
    “We’re going there to ski, remember? I like the runs better at Davos.”
    “I can’t score any tonight, can I?”
    He squeezed her hand.
    “You always score with me, honey.”
    And they drank their drinks and smoked their cigarettes and held their hands until the people left the dance floor and filed back to their microscopic tables, and the gelatins spun round and round, tinting clouds of smoke from hell to sunrise and back again, and the bass went whump!
    Tchga-tchga!
    “Oh, Charlie! Here they come again!”
    The sky was clear as