Read Online Timescape by Gregory Benford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gregory Benford
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The frosted glass in each office door was black; everyone had gone home, even Shelly, whom he'd counted on talking to.
Well then, tomorrow. There was always time tomorrow, Gordon thought. He walked down the corridor woodenly, lurching to the side as his briefcase banged against a knee. The labs were in the basement of the new physics building. Because of the slope of the shoreline hills, this end of the building gave out onto flat land. Beyond the glass doors at the end of the corridor night crouched, a black square. Gordon felt that the telescoping hallway was swimming past him, and realized that he was more tired than he thought. He really ought to get more exercise, stay in shape.
As he watched, Penny stepped into the framed darkness and pushed through.
"Oh," he said, staring at her blankly. He remembered that he had mumbled a promise this morning to come home early and make supper.
"Oh damn."
"Yes. I finally got tired of waiting."
"God, I'm sorry, I, I just ..." He made a gawky gesture. The plain fact was that he had completely forgotten, but it didn't seem wise to say that.
"Honey, you get too wrapped up." Her voice softened as she studied his face.
"Well, I know, I ... I'm really sorry, God I am ..." He thought, self-accusingly, I can't even get started on an apology. He stared at her and marveled at this compact, well-designed creation, womanly and slight, making him feel bulky and awkward. He really ought to explain how it was with him, how the problems took up all the space inside him while he was working on them, leaving room for nothing else–not even for her, in a sense. It sounded harsh but it was the truth and he tried to think of a way to tell her that without ...
"Sometimes I wonder how I can love such a dope," she said, shaking her head, a small smile beginning.
"Well, I am sorry, but ... let me tell you about the set-to we had with Lakin."
"Yeah, do tell." She bent over to pick up his briefcase. She was wiry and she lifted the bulging case without difficulty, shifting her hips. Despite his fatigue, Gordon found himself studying the motion.
The tightening of her skirt made her thighs leap into outline beneath the fabric. "C'mon, what you need is food."
He began his story. She nodded at his words and led the way out the back and around the liquid nitrogen filling station and down into the small parking lot, where safety lamps cast shadows of the guard railings, making a stretched and warped fretwork on the fresh blacktop.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Penny turned the ignition key and the radio came alive, blaring a shrill,
"Pepsi Cola hits the spot! Twelve full ounces, that's a lot–"
Gordon reached over and clicked it off.
Penny pulled out of the parking lot and onto the boulevard. Cool night air fanned her hair. The strands were mousy brown at the scalp but then lightened into blond, bleached by sun and the iodine of swimming pools. A sea tang thickened the soft breeze.
"Your mother called," Penny said carefully.
"Oh. You told her I'd call back?" Gordon hoped this would chop off the subject.
"She's flying out soon to visit you."
"What? Goddamn, why?"
"She says you're not writing her at all any more and she wants to see what the west coast is like, anyhow. She's thinking of moving out here."
Penny said.
"Oh, Christ." He had a sudden mental picture of his mother in a black dress, walking down Girard Avenue in the yellow sunlight, peering in the windows of the shops, a full head shorter than everyone else going by. She would be as out of place as a nun in a nudist colony.
"She didn't know who I was."
"Huh?" The image of his mother frowning at the thinly clad girls on Girard distracted him. "She asked if I was the cleaning lady."
"Oh."
"You haven't told her we're living together, have you?"
A pause. "I will."
Penny made a humorless smile. "Why haven't you already?"
He looked out the side window, which was smeared with oil where he had been leaning his head against it, and studied the
Well then, tomorrow. There was always time tomorrow, Gordon thought. He walked down the corridor woodenly, lurching to the side as his briefcase banged against a knee. The labs were in the basement of the new physics building. Because of the slope of the shoreline hills, this end of the building gave out onto flat land. Beyond the glass doors at the end of the corridor night crouched, a black square. Gordon felt that the telescoping hallway was swimming past him, and realized that he was more tired than he thought. He really ought to get more exercise, stay in shape.
As he watched, Penny stepped into the framed darkness and pushed through.
"Oh," he said, staring at her blankly. He remembered that he had mumbled a promise this morning to come home early and make supper.
"Oh damn."
"Yes. I finally got tired of waiting."
"God, I'm sorry, I, I just ..." He made a gawky gesture. The plain fact was that he had completely forgotten, but it didn't seem wise to say that.
"Honey, you get too wrapped up." Her voice softened as she studied his face.
"Well, I know, I ... I'm really sorry, God I am ..." He thought, self-accusingly, I can't even get started on an apology. He stared at her and marveled at this compact, well-designed creation, womanly and slight, making him feel bulky and awkward. He really ought to explain how it was with him, how the problems took up all the space inside him while he was working on them, leaving room for nothing else–not even for her, in a sense. It sounded harsh but it was the truth and he tried to think of a way to tell her that without ...
"Sometimes I wonder how I can love such a dope," she said, shaking her head, a small smile beginning.
"Well, I am sorry, but ... let me tell you about the set-to we had with Lakin."
"Yeah, do tell." She bent over to pick up his briefcase. She was wiry and she lifted the bulging case without difficulty, shifting her hips. Despite his fatigue, Gordon found himself studying the motion.
The tightening of her skirt made her thighs leap into outline beneath the fabric. "C'mon, what you need is food."
He began his story. She nodded at his words and led the way out the back and around the liquid nitrogen filling station and down into the small parking lot, where safety lamps cast shadows of the guard railings, making a stretched and warped fretwork on the fresh blacktop.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Penny turned the ignition key and the radio came alive, blaring a shrill,
"Pepsi Cola hits the spot! Twelve full ounces, that's a lot–"
Gordon reached over and clicked it off.
Penny pulled out of the parking lot and onto the boulevard. Cool night air fanned her hair. The strands were mousy brown at the scalp but then lightened into blond, bleached by sun and the iodine of swimming pools. A sea tang thickened the soft breeze.
"Your mother called," Penny said carefully.
"Oh. You told her I'd call back?" Gordon hoped this would chop off the subject.
"She's flying out soon to visit you."
"What? Goddamn, why?"
"She says you're not writing her at all any more and she wants to see what the west coast is like, anyhow. She's thinking of moving out here."
Penny said.
"Oh, Christ." He had a sudden mental picture of his mother in a black dress, walking down Girard Avenue in the yellow sunlight, peering in the windows of the shops, a full head shorter than everyone else going by. She would be as out of place as a nun in a nudist colony.
"She didn't know who I was."
"Huh?" The image of his mother frowning at the thinly clad girls on Girard distracted him. "She asked if I was the cleaning lady."
"Oh."
"You haven't told her we're living together, have you?"
A pause. "I will."
Penny made a humorless smile. "Why haven't you already?"
He looked out the side window, which was smeared with oil where he had been leaning his head against it, and studied the
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