and her desires, or her skandhas, or whatever you want
to call them, are as firm as the Rock of Gibraltar. Do you realize
the intense application required for a blind person to obtain the
education she has obtained? It took a will of ten-point steel and
the emotional control of an ascetic as well"
"And if something that strong should break, in a timeless
moment of anxiety," smiled Bartelmetz sadly, "may the shades
of Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung walk by your side in the
valley of darkness.
"And if something that strong should break, in a timeless
"Five," he ticked it off on one finger. "Is she-pretty?"
Render looked back into the fire.
"Very clever," sighed Bartelmetz, "I cannot tell whether you
are blushing or not, with the rosy glow of the flames upon your
face. I fear that you are, though, which would mean that you
are aware that you yourself could be the source of- the inciting
stimulus, I shall burn a candle tonight before a portrait of Adier
and pray that he give you the strength to compete successfully
in your duel with your patient."
Render looked at Jill, who was still sleeping. He reached out
and brushed a lock of her hair back into place.
"Still," said Bartelmetz, "if you do proceed and all goes well,
I shall look forward with great interest to the reading of your
work. Did I ever tell you that I have treated several Buddhists
and never found a 'true ego'?"
Both men laughed.
Like me but not like me, that one on a leash, smelling of fear,
small, gray, and unseeing. Rrowl and he'll choke on his collar.
His head is empty as the oven till She pushes the button and it
makes dinner. Make talk and they never understand, but they
are like me. One day I will kill onewhy? . . . Turn here.
"Three steps. Up. Glass doors. Handle to right."
Why? Ahead, drop-shaft. Gardens under, down. Smells nice,
there. Grass, wetdirt, trees, and cleanair. I see. Birds are
recorded though. I see all. 1.
"Drop-shaft. Four steps."
Down. Yes. Want to make loud noises in throat, feel silly.
Clean, smooth, many of trees. God . . . She likes sitting on
bench chewing leaves smelling smooth air. Can't see them like
me. Maybe now, some. . . ? No.
Can't Bad Sigmund me on grass, trees, here. Must hold it.
Pity. Best place . . .
"Watch for steps."
Ahead. To right, to left, to right, to left, trees and grass now.
Sigmund sees. Walking . . . Doctor with machine gives her his
eyes. Rrowl and he will not choke. No fearsmell.
Dig deep hole in ground, bury eyes. God is blind. Sigmund
to see. Her eyes now filled, and he is afraid of teeth. Will make
her to see and take her high up in the sky to see, away. Leave
me here, leave Sigmund with none to see, alone. I will dig a
deep hole in the ground . . .
It was after ten in the morning when Jill awoke. She did not
have to turn her head to know that Render was already gone.
He never slept late. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, turned onto
her side and raised herself on her elbow. She squinted at the
clock on the bedside table, simultaneously reaching for a
cigarette and her lighter.
As she inhaled, she realized there was no ashtray. Doubtless
Render had moved it to the dresser because he did not approve
of smoking in bed. With a sigh that ended in a snort she slid out
of the bed and drew on her wrap before the ash grew too long.
She hated getting up, but once she did she would permit the
day to begin and continue on without lapse through its orderly
progression of events.
"Damn him," she smiled. She had wanted her breakfast in
bed, but it was too late now.
Between thoughts as to what she would wear, she observed
an alien pair of skis standing in the corner. A sheet of paper
was impaled on one. She approached it.
"Join me?" asked the scrawl.
She shook her head in an emphatic negative and felt
somewhat sad. She had been on skis twice in her life and she
was afraid of them. She felt that she should really try again,
after his being a reasonably good
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