Read Online The Ultimate Egoist by Theodore Sturgeon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Theodore Sturgeon
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The door slammed, and Terry was gone for the evening. Florence shrugged. She hated scenes, but she knew that it was worth going through one every now and then: they cleared the air. Life would be peaceful for six or seven weeks, for two of which Terry would probably sulk. Ah, well. Now that Doppler effect with the interrupter at .065 … and back she went into her laboratory.
Hours later the doorbell buzzed discreetly. Florence started, then sent her mind racing after the formula she had almost stumbled on. “N to the fifth power over this cosine, take the mantissa of the log of the denom— darn it!” she said with emphasis. She threw down her pencil and marched to the door, making up her mind that hereafter the buzzer would be choked with absorbent cotton. She threw the door open and found herself staring at a collar and tie—a very tasteful tie, she had to admit, and she knew something about color-value … her gaze travelled up to a pointed chin with just the suggestion of a cleft on it, up to a well-shaped mouth, up past cheeks that were a bit too thin, up to a pair of friendly, green-flecked brown eyes. The eyes had it, she quipped to herself … “it” … “Oh,” she said, feeling very silly.
“I do hope I haven’t bothered you,” he said in a voice that matched the eyes, for it was warm and friendly, too. “Your sister said you’d be working … I’m Ben Pastene. She said you’d remember the name.” He waited patiently. Florence let the silence build agonizingly before she collected wits enough to invite him in. She did, though; and they stood there in the middle of the room, staring at each other. He was very tall and gentle-looking, and she was very appealing in the tan lab smock, though she didn’t know it. Ben Pastene had a sudden impulse to brush her soft-looking hair back from her face, and laughed at the thought. That broke the ice; she laughed too, and she did have a very lovely laugh.
She took his hat and coat, while he explained his errand. Terry was spending the night with a girlfriend, and her earring had broken, and since he would be passing this way, she had asked him to drop in and tell Florence not to expect her, and to leave the earring.
Florence was so furious at her sister’s machinations that she laughed; and as soon as she had laughed she stopped being furious. But Terry would hear about this—oh yes indeed!
“Terry has talked and talked of you,” Ben Pastene said. He offered her a cigarette, which she refused. She liked his hands and the way he handled them … “Terry is given to exaggeration,” she said primly.
He looked at her so critically that she blushed. “By no means!” he said, and she knew he meant it. She thought it very foolish to be pleased, but she was—terribly. “And she has spoken of you too. She thinks you are quite a paragon. No vices. No objectionable characteristics besides that one. And a Ph.D.”
He laughed. “She’s more than generous … What is the work she says you bury yourself in, to the exclusion of all worthwhile things in life?”
“Oh, she’s been talking that way, has she? Oh well—Terry lives in a different world from me. I’m no more fitted for the things she doesand wants to do than she is for my particular sphere. I can’t do the rumba—but then I can do wonders with the cube root of minus x.”
He laughed again and she suddenly had the feeling that she would like to keep him laughing—it was such a pleasant sound … She wondered why she found it almost imperative to defend herself against Terry’s influence with this man.
“You still haven’t told me about your work, you know.”
“Oh—I fool around with light that you can’t see, trying to find out if it could be of any use to anybody … I’m afraid it wouldn’t be very interesting. What’s interesting to you?”
“Languages, mostly. I got my Ph.D. by making a left-hand stab at a thesis on the probable location of Atlantis, as
Hours later the doorbell buzzed discreetly. Florence started, then sent her mind racing after the formula she had almost stumbled on. “N to the fifth power over this cosine, take the mantissa of the log of the denom— darn it!” she said with emphasis. She threw down her pencil and marched to the door, making up her mind that hereafter the buzzer would be choked with absorbent cotton. She threw the door open and found herself staring at a collar and tie—a very tasteful tie, she had to admit, and she knew something about color-value … her gaze travelled up to a pointed chin with just the suggestion of a cleft on it, up to a well-shaped mouth, up past cheeks that were a bit too thin, up to a pair of friendly, green-flecked brown eyes. The eyes had it, she quipped to herself … “it” … “Oh,” she said, feeling very silly.
“I do hope I haven’t bothered you,” he said in a voice that matched the eyes, for it was warm and friendly, too. “Your sister said you’d be working … I’m Ben Pastene. She said you’d remember the name.” He waited patiently. Florence let the silence build agonizingly before she collected wits enough to invite him in. She did, though; and they stood there in the middle of the room, staring at each other. He was very tall and gentle-looking, and she was very appealing in the tan lab smock, though she didn’t know it. Ben Pastene had a sudden impulse to brush her soft-looking hair back from her face, and laughed at the thought. That broke the ice; she laughed too, and she did have a very lovely laugh.
She took his hat and coat, while he explained his errand. Terry was spending the night with a girlfriend, and her earring had broken, and since he would be passing this way, she had asked him to drop in and tell Florence not to expect her, and to leave the earring.
Florence was so furious at her sister’s machinations that she laughed; and as soon as she had laughed she stopped being furious. But Terry would hear about this—oh yes indeed!
“Terry has talked and talked of you,” Ben Pastene said. He offered her a cigarette, which she refused. She liked his hands and the way he handled them … “Terry is given to exaggeration,” she said primly.
He looked at her so critically that she blushed. “By no means!” he said, and she knew he meant it. She thought it very foolish to be pleased, but she was—terribly. “And she has spoken of you too. She thinks you are quite a paragon. No vices. No objectionable characteristics besides that one. And a Ph.D.”
He laughed. “She’s more than generous … What is the work she says you bury yourself in, to the exclusion of all worthwhile things in life?”
“Oh, she’s been talking that way, has she? Oh well—Terry lives in a different world from me. I’m no more fitted for the things she doesand wants to do than she is for my particular sphere. I can’t do the rumba—but then I can do wonders with the cube root of minus x.”
He laughed again and she suddenly had the feeling that she would like to keep him laughing—it was such a pleasant sound … She wondered why she found it almost imperative to defend herself against Terry’s influence with this man.
“You still haven’t told me about your work, you know.”
“Oh—I fool around with light that you can’t see, trying to find out if it could be of any use to anybody … I’m afraid it wouldn’t be very interesting. What’s interesting to you?”
“Languages, mostly. I got my Ph.D. by making a left-hand stab at a thesis on the probable location of Atlantis, as
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