Robert F. Young by A Glass of Stars

Author:A Glass of Stars [Stars, A Glass of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-17T20:28:48+00:00

V

I made my way through the jungle of the grounds, following the grass-ruptured walk. Presently the dark mass of the building became visible against the cloud-torn sky. Just before me was the once ornate entrance, now little more than a gaping hole flanked by crumbling pillars. I wondered how I would ever find Diane in the dark empty corridors and the vast silent rooms, and then the ragged clouds parted and a gibbous moon shone through; and I saw the silvery figure standing on the steps, and I heard the indrawn breath.

The moonlight had betrayed me too, and I walked numbly through the pale whiteness of it to the steps, and up the steps to where she stood, a goddess no longer gold, but silver; no longer remote, but near. I do not know how it happened, I only know that neither of us said a word; but suddenly I felt the silver coldness of her cheek on mine, and her tall pliant body pressed against me; and then the cool-warm moistness of her lips …

After an eternity. “I looked for you so long,” she said. “I knew you had to be real. And then when I did see you there in the pit, I was so ashamed—”

“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s all right, darling.”

“Desteil appropriated me a month ago. I lived on one of the collective farms. My father kept me hidden for years, and then there was that horrible afternoon when Desteil pulled an unexpected inspection. I was in the fields, and I came walking into the community square not knowing, and suddenly there he was—”

“It’s all right,” I said again. Her cheeks were wet and I kissed the silver tears away.

“When I saw you in the Dream, I knew that you were the only one, that there could never be anyone else but you, and I wanted you to be the one who kissed me first, who—”

“I kissed you first,” I said. “That’s the only kiss that counts. What went before doesn’t matter.”

“I—I don’t even know your name.”

“Alan.”

“You know mine of course. Only it was Dianna originally, but Special Service changed it to Diane. They said ‘Diane’ looked better on the marquee.”

“Dianna or Diane, I love you just the same.”

“I love you too, Alan. I’ve loved you for years. It’s so strange, loving someone before you even meet them, dreaming of them before you even see them. Do you have the same Dream, Alan? The grayness and the awful silence, the feeling of movement. The man without a face.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Sometimes I think I can’t stand it any longer, that I must be losing my mind. What’s the reason for it, Alan? Why do we dream the same Dream every night?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I told her about Acktus and his work in ontology and I described my experience of the night before when Acktus had tried to project his new reality.

The moonlight seemed to grow brighter around us and suddenly I noticed Diane’s clothes—the simple white dress, the cheap three quarter length coat.

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