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The grass walls towered upward almost within reach; beyond the hole they so unexpectedly made in its surface the weed stretched out levelly, peaceful and inviting. I shuddered and peered down the reversed telescope where the ladder once more hung temptingly before Slafe. Again he waved it aside. Gootes appeared to argue with him for he shook his head obstinately and went on using his camera.
The Metamorphizer seems to give them the ability to break down even the most stable compound, select what they need, and also fix the inert nitrogen of the air to nourish themselves." "'Themselves," repeated Gootes, writing rapidly. "O K. If I get you which is doubtful so far it sounds just like a good new fertilizer." "Really? I tried to make myself clear." "Now don't get sore, Professor.
"It's no better than I live in myself," he added. He whistled at the dismal livingroom and raised his eyebrows at the kitchen. Before I could mutter an introduction, Miss Francis growled without turning around, "If youve come about the icebox " "Zounds!" exclaimed Gootes. "A female Linnaeus. Shades of Dorothy Dix!"
Gootes had given up his endeavor to reach the rim and apparently struggled all the way over to impart, if I understood his bêchedemer, this absurd and selfevident piece of information. "This is hardly a time for levity," I rebuked him coldly. "Couldnt think of a better. Reality is escaped through one flippancy or another.
You just keep squawking to the bookkeeping department and youll get further than coming up against the Old Man. Now let's go out and look at nature in the raw." "But my copy," I protested. "Oh, that," he said airily, "I'll run that off when we come back. Deadlines mean nothing to Jacson Gootes, the compositors' companion, the proofreaders' pardner, the layoutman's love.
It is well to be provident and I'd paid for my meal in more than money. Jacson Gootes came limply from the phonebooth, his bumptiousness gone. "No soap." He shook his head dejectedly. "Old Man said only pity for the lower mammals prevented him from letting me go to work for Hearst right away. Sorry." His nerves appeared quite shattered; capable of restoration only by Old Grandad.
The rays, directed low, were constantly being interrupted by the bodies of the militiamen hurrying back and forth to accomplish some definite task. "What goes on?" inquired Gootes. The officer addressed had two gleaming silver bars on his shoulder. He seemed very young and nervous. "Sorry no one allowed this far without special authorization." "Working press."
He enunciated clearly and precisely, speaking in an even monotone, pausing not at all, as if reading from some prepared script, though his eyes were fixed upon a vacant spot where wall and ceiling joined. "In the death today of Jacson Gootes the Daily Intelligencer lost a son. It is an old and good custom on these solemn occasions to pause and remember the dead.
Let's take in as much as youve done to the chief and either he'll be so impressed he'll put a stenographer to transcribing the rest or else " "Or else?" I prompted. "Or else he won't. Come on." Mr Le ffaçasé had apparently not stirred since last we were in his office. He opened his eyes, thumbed a pinch of snuff and asked Gootes, "Where the bloody hell is that stuff on the grass?"
I looked at Gootes to see how he was taking her hysterical outburst, but he had found a batch of empty testtubes which he was building into a perilously swaying structure. "Of course, of course," I agreed soothingly, backing away. "Youre quite right." She walked the floor as if her awkward body were a burden. "Is the instant response to an obvious truth platitude even always a diagnosis of lunacy?
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