diff options
Diffstat (limited to '30283-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 30283-0.txt | 677 |
1 files changed, 677 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/30283-0.txt b/30283-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2facd2c --- /dev/null +++ b/30283-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,677 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30283 *** + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction June 1962. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright + on this publication was renewed. + + + THE SOUND + + OF SILENCE + + + BY BARBARA CONSTANT + + + Most people, when asked to define the ultimate in + loneliness, say it's being alone in a crowd. And it takes + only one slight difference to make one forever alone in the + crowd.... + + + ILLUSTRATED BY SCHELLING + + * * * * * + + + + +Nobody at Hoskins, Haskell & Chapman, Incorporated, knew jut why +Lucilla Brown, G.G. Hoskins' secretary, came to work half an hour +early every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Even G.G. himself, had he +been asked, would have had trouble explaining how his occasional +exasperated wish that just once somebody would reach the office ahead +of him could have caused his attractive young secretary to start doing +so three times a week ... or kept her at it all the months since that +first gloomy March day. Nobody asked G.G. however--not even Paul +Chapman, the very junior partner in the advertising firm, who had +displayed more than a little interest in Lucilla all fall and winter, +but very little interest in anything all spring and summer. Nobody +asked Lucilla why she left early on the days she arrived early--after +all, eight hours is long enough. And certainly nobody knew where +Lucilla went at 4:30 on those three days--nor would anybody in the +office have believed it, had he known. + +"Lucky Brown? seeing a psychiatrist?" The typist would have giggled, +the office boy would have snorted, and every salesman on the force +would have guffawed. Even Paul Chapman might have managed a wry smile. +A real laugh had been beyond him for several months--ever since he +asked Lucilla confidently, "Will you marry me?" and she answered, "I'm +sorry, Paul--thanks, but no thanks." + +Not that seeing a psychiatrist was anything to laugh at, in itself. After +all, the year was 1962, and there were almost as many serious articles +about mental health as there were cartoons about psychoanalysts, even in +the magazines that specialized in poking fun. In certain cities--including +Los Angeles--and certain industries--especially advertising--"I have an +appointment with my psychiatrist" was a perfectly acceptable excuse for +leaving work early. The idea of a secretary employed by almost the largest +advertising firm in one of the best-known suburbs in the sprawling City of +the Angels doing so should not, therefore, have seemed particularly odd. +Not would it have, if the person involved had been anyone at all except +Lucilla Brown. + +The idea that she might need aid of any kind, particularly +psychiatric, was ridiculous. She had been born twenty-two years +earlier in undisputed possession of a sizable silver spoon--and she +was, in addition, bright, beautiful, and charming, with 20/20 vision, +perfect teeth, a father and mother who adored her, friends who did +likewise ... and the kind of luck you'd have to see to believe. Other +people entered contests--Lucilla won them. Other people drove five +miles over the legal speed limit and got caught doing it--Lucilla +out-distanced them, but fortuitously slowed down just before the +highway patrol appeared from nowhere. Other people waited in the wrong +line at the bank while the woman ahead of them learned how to roll +pennies--Lucilla was always in the line that moved right up to the +teller's window. + +"Lucky" was not, in other words, just a happenstance abbreviation of +"Lucilla"--it was an exceedingly apt nickname. And Lucky Brown's +co-workers would have been quite justified in laughing at the very +idea of her being unhappy enough about anything to spend three +precious hours a week stretched out on a brown leather couch staring +miserably at a pale blue ceiling and fumbling for words that refused +to come. There were a good many days when Lucilla felt like laughing +at the idea herself. And there were other days when she didn't even +feel like smiling. + +Wednesday, the 25th of July, was one of the days when she didn't feel +like smiling. Or talking. Or moving. It had started out badly when she +opened her eyes and found herself staring at a familiar blue ceiling. +"I don't know," she said irritably. "I tell you, I simply don't know +what happens. I'll start to answer someone and the words will be right +on the tip of my tongue, ready to be spoken, then I'll say something +altogether different. Or I'll start to cross the street and, for no +reason at all, be unable to even step off the curb...." + +"For no reason at all?" Dr. Andrews asked. "Are you sure you aren't +withholding something you ought to tell me?" + +She shifted a little, suddenly uncomfortable ... and then she was +fully awake and the ceiling was ivory, not blue. She stared at it for +a long moment, completely disoriented, before she realized that she +was in her own bed, not on Dr. Andrews' brown leather couch, and that +the conversation had been another of the interminable imaginary +dialogues she found herself carrying on with the psychiatrist, day and +night, awake and asleep. + +"Get out of my dreams," she ordered crossly, summoning up a quick +mental picture of Dr. Andrews' expressive face, level gray eyes, and +silvering temples, the better to banish him from her thoughts. She was +immediately sorry she had done so, for the image remained fixed in her +mind; she could almost feel his eyes as she heard his voice ask again, +"For no reason at all, Lucilla?" + + * * * * * + +The weatherman had promised a scorcher, and the heat that already lay +like a blanket over the room made it seem probable the promise would +be fulfilled. She moved listlessly, showering patting herself dry, +lingering over the choice of a dress until her mother called urgently +from the kitchen. + +She was long minutes behind schedule when she left the house. Usually +she rather enjoyed easing her small car into the stream of automobiles +pouring down Sepulveda toward the San Diego Freeway, jockeying for +position, shifting expertly from one lane to another to take advantage +of every break in the traffic. This morning she felt only angry +impatience; she choked back on the irritated impulse to drive directly +into the side of a car that cut across in front of her, held her horn +button down furiously when a slow-starting truck hesitated +fractionally after the light turned green. + +When she finally edged her Renault up on the "on" ramp and the freeway +stretched straight and unobstructed ahead, she stepped down on the +accelerator and watched the needle climb up and past the legal 65-mile +limit. The sound of her tires on the smooth concrete was soothing and +the rush of wind outside gave the morning an illusion of coolness. She +edged away from the tangle of cars that had pulled onto the freeway +with her and momentarily was alone on the road, with her rear-view +mirror blank, the oncoming lanes bare, and a small rise shutting off +the world ahead. + +That was when it happened. "Get out of the way!" a voice shrieked +"out of the way, out of the way, OUT OF THE WAY!" Her heart lurched, +her stomach twisted convulsively, and there was a brassy taste in her +mouth. Instinctively, she stamped down on the brake pedal, swerved +sharply into the outer lane. By the time she had topped the rise, she +was going a cautious 50 miles an hour and hugging the far edge of the +freeway. Then, and only then, she heard the squeal of agonized tires +and saw the cumbersome semitrailer coming from the opposite direction +rock dangerously, jackknife into the dividing posts that separated +north and south-bound traffic, crunch ponderously through them, and +crash to a stop, several hundred feet ahead of her and squarely +athwart the lane down which she had been speeding only seconds +earlier. + +The highway patrol materialized within minutes. Even so, it was after +eight by the time Lucilla gave them her statement, agreed for the +umpteenth time with the shaken but uninjured truck driver that it was +indeed fortunate she hadn't been in the center lane, and drove slowly +the remaining miles to the office. The gray mood of early morning had +changed to black. Now there were two voices in her mind, competing for +attention. "I knew it was going to happen," the truck driver said, "I +couldn't see over the top of that hill. All I could do was fight the +wheel and pray that if anybody was coming, he'd get out of the way." +She could almost hear him repeating the words, "Get out of the way, +out of the way...." And right on the heel of his cry came Dr. +Andrews' soft query, "For no reason at all, Lucilla?" + +She pulled into the company parking lot, jerked the wheel savagely to +the left, jammed on the brakes. "Shut up!" she said. "Shut up, both of +you!" She started into the building, then hesitated. She was already +late, but there was something.... (Get out of the way, the way.... For +no reason at all, at all....) She yielded to impulse and walked +hurriedly downstairs to the basement library. + +"That stuff I asked you to get together for me by tomorrow, Ruthie," +she said to the gray-haired librarian. "You wouldn't by any chance +have already done it, would you?" + +"Funny you should ask." The elderly woman bobbed down behind the +counter and popped back up with an armload of magazines and +newspapers. "Just happened to have some free time last thing +yesterday. It's already charged out to you, so you just go right ahead +and take it, dearie." + + * * * * * + +It was 8:30 when Lucilla reached the office. + +"When I need you, where are you?" G.G. asked sourly. "Learned last +night that the top dog at Karry Karton Korporation is in town today, +so they've pushed that conference up from Friday to ten this morning. +If you'd been here early--or even on time--we might at least have +gotten some of the information together." + +Lucilla laid the stack of material on his desk. "I haven't had time to +flag the pages yet," she said, "but they're listed on the library +request on top. We did nineteen ads for KK last year and three of +premium offers. I stopped by Sales on my way in--Susie's digging out +figures for you now." + +"Hm-m-m," said G.G. "Well. So that's where you've been. You could at +least have let me know." There was grudging approval beneath his +gruffness. "Say, how'd you know I needed this today, anyhow?" + +"Didn't," said Lucilla, putting her purse away and whisking the cover off +her typewriter. "Happenstance, that's all." (Just happened to go down to +the library ... for no reason at all ... withholding something ... get out +of the way....) The telephone's demand for attention overrode her +thoughts. She reached for it almost gratefully. "Mr. Hoskins' office," she +said. "Yes. Yes, he knows about the ten o'clock meeting this morning. +Thanks for calling, anyway." She hung up and glanced at G.G., but he was +so immersed in one of the magazines that the ringing telephone hadn't even +disturbed him. Ringing? The last thing she did before she left the office +each night was set the lever in the instrument's base to "off," so that +the bell would not disturb G.G. if he worked late. So far today, nobody +had set it back to "on." + + * * * * * + +"It's getting worse," she said miserably to the pale blue ceiling. +"The phone didn't ring this morning--it couldn't have--but I answered +it." Dr. Andrews said nothing at all. She let her eyes flicker +sidewise, but he was outside her range of vision. "I don't LIKE +having you sit where I can't see you," she said crossly. "Freud may +have thought it was a good idea, but I think it's a lousy one." She +clenched her hands and stared at nothing. The silence stretched +thinner and thinner, like a balloon blown big, until the temptation to +rupture it was too great to resist. "I didn't see the truck this +morning. Nor hear it. There was no reason at all for me to slow down +and pull over." + +"You might be dead if you hadn't. Would you like that better?" + +The matter-of-fact question was like a hand laid across Lucilla's +mouth. "I don't want to be dead," she admitted finally. "Neither do I +want to go on like this, hearing words that aren't spoken and bells +that don't ring. When it gets to the point that I pick up a phone just +because somebody's thinking...." She stopped abruptly. + +"I didn't quite catch the end of that sentence," Dr. Andrews said. + +"I didn't quite finish it. I can't." + +"Can't? Or won't? Don't hold anything back, Lucilla. You were saying +that you picked up the phone just because somebody was thinking...." +He paused expectantly. Lucilla reread the ornate letters on the framed +diploma on the wall, looked critically at the picture of Mrs. +Andrews--whom she'd met--and her impish daughter--whom she +hadn't--counted the number of pleats in the billowing drapes, ran a +tentative finger over the face of her wristwatch, straightened a fold +of her skirt ... and could stand the silence no longer. + +"All right," she said wearily. "The girl at Karry Karton thought about +talking to me, and I heard my phone ring, even though the bell was +disconnected. G.G. thought about needing backup material for the +conference and I went to the library. The truck driver thought about +warning people and I got out of his way. So I can read people's +minds--some people's minds, some of the time, anyway ... only there's +no such thing as telepathy. And if I'm not telepathic, then...." She +caught herself in the brink of time and bit back the final word, +fighting for self-control. + +"Then what?" The peremptory question toppled Lucilla's defenses. + +"I'm crazy," she said. Speaking the word released all the others +dammed up behind it. "Ever since I can remember, things like this have +happened--all at once, in the middle of doing something or saying +something, I'd find myself thinking about what somebody else was doing +or saying. Not thinking--knowing. I'd be playing hide-and-seek, and I +could see the places where the other kids were hiding just as plainly +as I could see my own surroundings. Or I'd be worrying over the +answers to an exam question, and I'd know what somebody in the back of +the room had decided to write down, or what the teacher was expecting +us to write. Not always--but it happened often enough so that it +bothered me, just the way it does now when I answer a question before +it's been asked, or know what the driver ahead of me is going to do a +split second before he does it, or win a bridge game because I can see +everybody else's hand through his own eyes, almost." + +"Has it always ... bothered you, Lucilla?" + +"No-o-o-o." She drew the word out, considering, trying to think when +it was that she hadn't felt uneasy about the unexpected moments of +perceptiveness. When she was very little, perhaps. She thought of the +tiny, laughing girl in the faded snaps of the old album--and suddenly, +inexplicably, she was that self, moving through remembered rooms, +pausing to collect a word from a boyish father, a thought from a +pretty young mother. Reluctantly, she closed her eyes against that +distant time. "Way back," she said, "when I didn't know any better, I +just took it for granted that sometimes people talked to each other +and that sometimes they passed thoughts along without putting them +into words. I was about six, I guess, when I found out it wasn't so." +She slipped into her six-year-old self as easily as she had donned the +younger Lucilla. This time she wasn't in a house, but high on a +hillside, walking on springy pine needles instead of prosaic carpet. + +"Talk," Dr. Andrews reminded her, his voice so soft that it could +almost have come from inside her own mind. + +"We were picnicking," she said. "A whole lot of us. Somehow, I +wandered away from the others...." One minute the hill was bright +with sun, and the next it was deep in shadows and the wind that had +been merely cool was downright cold. She shivered and glanced around +expecting her mother to be somewhere near, holding out a sweater or +jacket. There was no one at all in sight. Even then, she never thought +of being frightened. She turned to retrace her steps. There was a big +tree that looked familiar, and a funny rock behind it, half buried in +the hillside. She was trudging toward it, humming under her breath, +when the worry thoughts began to reach her. (... only a little creek +so I don't think she could have fallen in ... not really any bears +around here ... but she never gets hurt ... creek ... bear ... twisted +ankle ... dark ... cold....) She had veered from her course and +started in the direction of the first thought, but now they were +coming from all sides and she had no idea at all which way to go. She +ran wildly then, first one way, then the other, sobbing and calling. + +[Illustration] + +"Lucilla!" The voice sliced into the night, and the dark mountainside +and the frightened child were gone. She shuddered a little, +reminiscently, and put her hand over her eyes. + +"Somebody found me, of course. And then Mother was holding me and +crying and I was crying, too, and telling her how all the different +thought at once frightened me and mixed me up. She ... she scolded me +for ... for telling fibs ... and said that nobody except crazy people +thought they could read each other's minds." + +"I see," said Dr. Andrews, "So you tried not to, of course. And +anytime you did it again, or thought you did, you blamed it on +coincidence. Or luck." + +"And had that nightmare again." + +"Yes, that, too. Tell me about it." + +"I already have. Over and over." + +"Tell me again, then." + +"I feel like a fool, repeating myself," she complained. Dr. Andrew's +made no comment. "Oh, all right. It always starts with me walking down +a crowded street, surrounded by honking cars and yelling newsboys and +talking people. The noise bothers me and I'm tempted to cover my ears +to shut it out, but I try to ignore it, instead, and walk faster and +faster. Bit by bit, the buildings I pass are smaller, the people +fewer, the noise less. All at once, I discover there's nothing around +at all but a spreading carpet of gray-green moss, years deep, and a +silence that feels as old as time itself. There's nothing to frighten +me, but I am frightened ... and lonesome, not so much for people, but +for a sound ... any sound. I turn to run back toward town, but there's +nothing behind me now but the same gray moss and gray sky and dead +silence." + + * * * * * + +By the time she reached the last word, her throat had tightened until +speaking was difficult. She reached out blindly for something to cling +to. Her groping hand met Dr. Andrews' and his warm fingers closed +reassuringly around hers. Gradually the panic drained away, but she +could think of nothing to say at all, although she longed to have the +silence broken. As if he sensed her longing, Dr. Andrews said, "You +started having the dream more often just after you told Paul you +wouldn't marry him, is that right?" + +"No. It was the other way around. I hadn't had it for months, not +since I fell in love with him, then he got assigned to that "Which +Tomorrow?" show and he started calling me "Lucky," the way everybody +does, and the dream came back...." She stopped short, and turned on +the couch to stare at the psychiatrist with startled eyes. "But that +can't be how it was," she said. "The lonesomeness must have started +after I decided not to marry him, not before." + +"I wonder why the dream stopped when you fell in love with him." + +"That's easy," Lucilla said promptly, grasping at the chance to evade +her own more disturbing question. "I felt close to him, whether he was +with me or not, the way I used to feel close to people back when I was +a little girl, before ... well, before that day in the mountains ... +when Mother said...." + +"That was when you started having the dream, wasn't it?" + +"How'd you know? I didn't--not until just now. But, yes, that's when +it started. I'd never minded the dark or being alone, but I was +frightened when Mother shut the door that night, because the walls +seemed so ... so solid, now that I knew all the thoughts I used to +think were with me there were just pretend. When I finally went to +sleep, I dreamed, and I went on having the same dream, night after +night after night, until finally they called a doctor and he gave me +something to make me sleep." + +"I wish they'd called me," Dr. Andrews said. + +"What could you have done? The sleeping pills worked, anyway, and +after a while I didn't need them any more, because I'd heard other +kids talking about having hunches and lucky streaks and I stopped +feeling different from the rest of them, except once in a while, when +I was so lucky it ... bothered me." + +"And after you met Paul, you stopped being ... too lucky ... and the +dream stopped?" + +"No!" Lucilla was startled at her own vehemence. "No, it wasn't like +that at all, and you'd know it, if you'd been listening. With Paul, I +felt close to him all the time, no matter how many miles or walls or +anything else there were between us. We hardly had to talk at all, +because we seemed to know just what the other one was thinking all the +time, listening to music, or watching the waves pound in or just +working together at the office. Instead of feeling ... odd ... when I +knew what he was thinking or what he was going to say, I felt good +about it, because I was so sure it was the same way with him and what +I was thinking. We didn't talk about it. There just wasn't any need +to." She lapsed into silence again. Dr. Andrews straightened her +clenched hand out and stroked the fingers gently. After a moment, she +went on. + +"He hadn't asked me to marry him, but I knew he would, and there wasn't +any hurry, because everything was so perfect, anyway. Then one of the +company's clients decided to sponsor a series of fantasy shows on TV and +wanted us to tie in the ads for next year with the fantasy theme. Paul was +assigned to the account, and G.G. let him borrow me to work on it, because +it was such a rush project. I'd always liked fairy stories when I was +little and when I discovered there were grown-up ones, too, like those in +_Unknown Worlds_ and the old _Weird Tales_, I read them, too. +But I hadn't any idea how much there was, until we started buying copies +of everything there was on the news-stands, and then ransacking musty +little stores for back issues and ones that had gone out of publication, +until Paul's office was just full of teetery piles of gaudy magazines and +everywhere you looked there were pictures of strange stars and +eight-legged monsters and men in space suits." + +"So what do the magazines have to do with you and Paul?" + +"The way he felt about them changed everything. He just laughed at the +ones about space ships and other planets and robots and things, but he +didn't laugh when came across stories about ... well, mutants, and +people with talents...." + +"Talents? Like reading minds, you mean?" + +She nodded, not looking at him. "He didn't laugh at those. He acted as +if they were ... well, indecent. The sort of thing you wouldn't be +caught dead reading in public. And he thought that way, too, +especially about the stories that even mentioned telepathy. At first, +when he brought them to my attention in that disapproving way, I +thought he was just pretending to sneer, to tease me, because +he--we--knew they could be true. Only his thoughts matched his +remarks. He hated the stories, Dr. Andrews, and was just determined to +have me hate them, too. All at once I began to feel as if I didn't +know him at all and I began to wonder if I'd just imagined everything +all those months I felt so close to him. And then I began to dream +again, and to think about that lonesome silent world even when I was +wide awake." + +"Go on, Lucilla," Dr. Andrews said, as she hesitated. + +"That's all, just about. We finished the job and got rid of the +magazines and for a little while it was almost as if those two weeks +had never been, except I couldn't forget that he didn't know what I +was thinking at all, even when everything he did, almost, made it seem +as if he did. It began to seem wrong for me to know what he was +thinking. Crazy, like Mother had said, and worse, somehow. Not well, +not even nice, if you know what I mean." + +"Then he asked you to marry him." + +"And I said no, even when I wanted, oh, so terribly, to say yes and +yes and yes." She squeezed her eyes tight shut to hold back a rush of +tears. + + * * * * * + +Time folded back on itself. Once again, the hands of her wristwatch +pointed to 4:30 and the white-clad receptionist said briskly, "Doctor +will see you now." Once again, from some remote vantage point, Lucilla +watched herself brush past Dr. Andrews and cross to the familiar +couch, heard herself say, "It's getting worse," watched herself move +through a flickering montage of scenes from childhood to womanhood, +from past to present. + +She opened he eyes to meet those of the man who sat patiently beside +her. "You see," he said, "telling me wasn't so difficult, after all." +And then, before she had decided on a response, "What do you know +about Darwin's theory of evolution, Lucilla?" + +His habit of ending a tense moment by making an irrelevant query no +longer even startled her. Obediently, she fumbled for an answer. "Not +much. Just that he thought all the different kinds of life on earth +today evolved from a few blobs of protoplasm that sprouted wings or +grew fur or developed teeth, depending on when they lived, and where." +She paused hopefully, but met with only silence. "Sometimes what +seemed like a step forward wasn't," she said, ransacking her brain for +scattered bits of information. "Then the species died out, like the +saber-tooth tiger, with those tusks that kept right on growing until +they locked his jaws shut, so he starved to death." As she spoke, she +remembered the huge beast as he had been pictured in one of her +college textbooks. The recollection grew more and more vivid, until +she could see both the picture and the facing page of text. There was +an irregularly shaped inkblot in the upper corner and several heavily +underlined sentences that stood out so distinctly she could actually +read the words. "According to Darwin, variations in general are not +infinitesimal, but in the nature of specific mutations. Thousands of +these occur, but only the fittest survive the climate, the times, +natural enemies, and their own kind, who strive to perpetuate +themselves unchanged." Taken one by one, the words were all +familiar--taken as a whole, they made no sense at all. She let the +book slip unheeded from her mind and stared at Dr. Andrews in +bewilderment. + +"Try saying it in a different way." + +"You sound like a school teacher humoring a stupid child." And then, +because of the habit of obedience was strong, "I guess he meant that +tails didn't grow an inch at a time, the way the dog's got cut off, +but all at once ... like a fish being born with legs as well as fins, +or a baby saber-tooth showing up among tigers with regular teeth, or +one ape in a tribe discovering he could swing down out of the treetops +and stand erect and walk alone." + +He echoed her last words. "And walk alone...." A premonitory chill +traced its icy way down Lucilla's backbone. For a second she stood on +gray moss, under a gray sky, in the midst of a gray silence. "He not +only could walk alone, he had to. Do you remember what your book +said?" + +"Only the fittest survive," Lucilla said numbly. "Because they have to +fight the climate ... and their natural enemies ... and their own +kind." She swung her feet to the floor and pushed herself into a +sitting position. "I'm not a ... a mutation. I'm not, I'm not, I'm +NOT, and you can't say I am, because I won't listen!" + +"I didn't say you were." There was the barest hint of emphasis on the +first word. Lucilla was almost certain she heard a whisper of +laughter, but he met her gaze blandly, his expression completely +serious. + +"Don't you dare laugh!" she said, nonetheless. "There's nothing funny +about ... about...." + +"About being able to read people's minds," Dr Andrews said helpfully. +"You'd much rather have me offer some other explanation for the +occurrences that bother you so--is that it?" + +"I guess so. Yes, it is. A brain tumor. Or schizophrenia. Or anything +at all that could maybe be cured, so I could marry Paul and have +children and be like everybody else. Like you." She looked past him to +the picture on his desk. "It's easy for you to talk." + +He ignored the last statement. "Why can't you get married, anyway?" + +"You've already said why. Because Paul would hate me--everybody would +hate me--if they knew I was different." + +"How would they know? It doesn't show. Now if you had three legs, or a +long bushy tail, or outsized teeth...." + +Lucilla smiled involuntarily, and then was furious at herself for +doing so and at Dr Andrews for provoking her into it. "This whole +thing is utterly asinine, anyhow. Here we are, talking as if I might +really be a mutant, and you know perfectly well that I'm not." + +"Do I? You made the diagnosis, Lucilla, and you've given me some +mighty potent reasons for believing it ... can you give me equally +good reasons for doubting that you're a telepath?" + + * * * * * + +The peremptory demand left Lucilla speechless for a moment. She groped +blindly for an answer, then almost laughed aloud as she found it. + +"But of course. I almost missed it, even after you practically drew me +a diagram. If I could read minds, just as soon as anybody found it +out, he'd be afraid of me, or hate me, like the book said, and you +said, too. If you believed it, you'd do something like having me +locked up in a hospital, maybe, instead of...." + +"Instead of what, Lucilla?" + +"Instead of being patient, and nice, and helping me see how silly I've +been." She reached out impulsively to touch his hand, then withdrew +her own, feeling somewhat foolish when he made no move to respond. +Her relief was too great, however, to be contained in silence. "Way +back the first time I came in, almost, you said that before we +finished therapy, you'd know me better than I knew myself. I didn't +believe you--maybe I didn't want to--but I begin to think you were +right. Lot of times, lately, you've answered a question before I even +asked it. Sometimes you haven't even bothered to answer--you've just +sat there in your big brown chair and I've lain here on the couch, and +we've gone through something together without using words at all...." +She had started out almost gaily, the words spilling over each other +in their rush to be said, but bit by bit she slowed down, then +faltered to a stop. After she had stopped talking altogether, she +could still hear her last few phrases, repeated over and over, like an +echo that refused to die. (Answered ... before I even asked ... +without using words at all ... without using words....) + +She could almost taste the terror that clogged her throat and dried her +lips. "You do believe it. And you could have me locked up. Only ... +only...." Fragments of thought, splinters of words, and droplets of +silence spun into a kaleidoscopic jumble, shifted infinitesimally, and +fell into an incredible new pattern. Understanding displaced terror and +was, in turn, displaced by indignation. She stared accusingly at her +interrogator. "But you look just like ... just like anybody." + +"You expected perhaps three legs or a long bushy tail or teeth like +that textbook tiger?" + +"And you're a psychiatrist!" + +"What else? Would you have talked to me like this across a grocery +counter, Lucilla? Or listened to me, if I'd been driving a bus or +filling a prescription? Would I have found the others in a bowling +alley or a business office?" + +"Then there are ... others?" She let out her breath on a long sigh +involuntarily glancing again at the framed picture. "Only I love Paul, +and he isn't ... he can't...." + +"Nor can Carol." His eyes were steady on hers, yet she felt as if he +were looking through and beyond her. For no reason at all, she +strained her ears for the sound of footsteps or the summons of a +voice. "Where do you suppose the second little blob of protoplasm with +legs came from?" Dr. Andrews asked. "And the third? If that ape who +found he could stand erect had walked lonesomely off into the sunset +like a second-rate actor on a late, late show, where do you suppose +you'd be today?" + +He broke off abruptly and watched with Lucilla as the office door +edged open. The small girl who inched her way around it wore blue +jeans and a pony tail rather than an organdy frock and curls, but her +pixie smile matched that of the girl in the photograph Lucilla had +glanced at again and again. + +"You wanted me, Daddy?" she asked, but she looked toward Lucilla. + +"I thought you'd like to meet someone with the same nickname as +yours," Dr. Andrews said, rising to greet her. "Lucky, meet Lucky." + +"Hello," the child said, then her smile widened. "Hello!" (But I don't +have to say it, do I? I can talk to you just the way I talk to Daddy +and Uncle Whitney and Big Bill). + +"Hello yourself," said Lucilla. This time when the corners of her +mouth began to tick upward, she made no attempt to stop them. (Of +course you can, darling. And I can answer you the same way, and you'll +hear me.) + +Dr. Andrews reached for the open pack of cigarettes on his deck. (Is +this strictly a private conversation, girls, or can I get in on it, +too?) + +(It's unpolite to interrupt, Daddy.) + +(He's not exactly interrupting--it was his conversation to begin +with!) + +Dr. Andrews' receptionist paused briefly beside the still-open office +door. None of them heard either her gentle rap or the soft click of +the latch slipping into place when she pushed the door shut. + +Nor did she hear them. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Sound of Silence, by Barbara Constant + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30283 *** |