Far out. Or far in? That used to be a joke, _so far out you’re in, so
far in you’re out, but it’s no joke, it’s not funny, it’s fun_.
_Swing on a star ... climb up a moonbeam_ ... featherlight, fearfree,
far sands of home.... _Hello!... Hello, I know you, don’t I?... Don’t
know your name, but ... funny-fun! ... the soul is familiar_....
Foolish to want a name. Baby has no name. What name for baby? _Doug,
we’ll call him Doug.... Hello, Doug_....
... and the well opened up again, great valentine lake of lovelygood,
lace-edged, beating heart, two hearts in three-quarter phase....
_Where are you? Hello? Hello?_
_Oh!_
“Oh. Oh, hi. Six _already_?”
“No,” Jim, the guard, was leaning over her, helmet to helmet. “They
been trying to call you from Dome, Miss Trovi. We kept gettin’ the call
on our sets, but you didn’t answer, so I figure your radio’s off, and
come in to tell you.”
“Oh. Thanks, Jim.”
She switched on the helmet set.
“Hello?”
“Lee! Thank God! You had us worried. Been trying to get you the last
twenty minutes!”
“Who’s that? Thad?”
“Yuh. Listen, we’ve a call for you. Earthside. Better hurry. We can’t
hold the frequency much longer.”
_Earthside?_
“Johnny!” She jumped up. “Hold it, Thad,” she said. “I’m on my way.”
_Mexcity--Wednesday, October 5, 5:35_ P.M. (_C.S.T._)
“I’m sorry, Johnny. We’ve been doing our damnedest. She’s on her way
back now, but Relay will cut out in two minutes.”
The distant voice was Chris’, but yet not Chris. He couldn’t get
_through_, somehow.
“Okay,” he said. “Look, I don’t have to talk to her. Will you send her
down?”
“I’ll tell her you called. I’ll tell her you asked her to come. I can’t
_send_ her, Johnny.”
“Okay.” _Bastard! You’ll tell her--yeah! But what? What can you tell
her to be so sure she won’t want to come?_ “Okay. If that’s it, that’s
it.”
“I’ll tell her,” the voice named Chris said again.
“Hey! Chris! Listen!” He felt his throat tighten up, but the words
squeezed past. “Chris! If she--never mind if--Chris, can you make room
for me to come up Sunday? Maybe she ought to stay--”
“I don’t know--”
“We-are-sorry-to-interrupt-this-call-but-Relay-Station-has-passed-out-
of-range-This-is-a-recorded-message-We-are-sorry-to-interrupt--”
The sound cut out. Johnny turned from the mike, and saw Jed’s hand on
the switch.
“Well,” he said. “Thanks. I--appreciate everything.”
Harbridge took a single step forward. “All right, Johnny. I’m glad
we could get you through. Wish you’d connected better. But I imagine
she’ll be down Sunday. She _is_ on the subpoena list, you know, so--”
“She is?” He hadn’t even read that. He’d forgotten about it. The
headline was all he saw, really. “You--wouldn’t care to tell me where
Phil Kutler is?” he asked, feeling the ice in his gut again, just like
he felt it when he saw the paper, her name, and Phil’s picture.