„Lord Eddard Stark is my father," Jon admitted stiffly. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head." He grinned. He pressed his lips together and said nothing. Jon felt a coldness pass right through him. "„You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" It never occurred to us that anything like that might happen." We never meant to hurt you, but we probably did we probably ended up making a deep wound in your heart. And just as Kizuki loved you, I love you. Kizuki may be dead, but you are still my only link with the outside world. It just so happened that our connection with you was our first connection with anyone else. I wouldn't want you to think that we were using you, though. We were struggling through you to fit in with the outside world as best we could. You were the link connecting us with the outside world. Which is why you were so important to us. We grew up fast and had to enter society. But that kind of thing doesn't last forever. If we got hungry, we'd just pick a banana if we got lonely, we'd go to sleep in each other's arms. We were like kids who grew up naked on a desert island. Which is why Kizuki did what he did, and why I'm here. We didn't pay when we should have, so now the bills are due. She had taken her barrette off, which made the hair fall over her face when she dropped her head forward.īecause we would have had to pay the world back what we owed it," she said, raising her eyes to mine. With her fingers, Naoko combed her hair back several times. So if Kizuki had lived, I'm sure we would have been together, loving each other, and gradually growing unhappy." You throw a rock and it'll come right back at you." Everything is rigged, tied into that massive capital web, and beyond this web there's another web. But with today's sophistication, who's in a position to throw rocks? Who's going to brave what tear gas? C'mon, that's the way it is. All you had to do to express yourself was throw rocks at riot police. It's the way of the world-philosophy starting to look more and more like business administration.Īlthough I didn't think so at the time, things were a lot simpler in 1969. Like pulling on a Missoni sweater over Trussardi slacks and Pollini shoes, you can now enjoy hybrid styles of morality. Within fashionable good, there's formal and then there's casual there's hip, there's cool, there's trendy, there's snobbish. Within good, there's fashionable good and unfash-ionable good, and ditto for bad. Even the standard of right and wrong has been subdi-vided, made sophisticated. Like it or not, it's the society we live in. Maybe, said their eyes, they're already here." Proprietor for some small part of eternity of the traveling dark carnival shows. finally you wind up owner of the carousel, keeper of the freaks. The thought hit them all in the same quiet moment. And, after awhile, you'd offer rides to friends, and more friends until finally. Lord.Įach read the thoughts in the other's eyes.īut then, thought Charles Halloway, once you start, you'd always come back. Just ten times around, back, thought Charles Halloway. Just four times around, ahead, thought Jim. Just three times around, ahead, thought Will. The great machine softly tilted in the tides of night. He glanced up at Dad.ĭad nodded, once, gravely, and then nodded at the carousel, and stepped up on it, and touched a brass pole. Will looked at Jim, at his father, and then down at his own body and hands. "Why," said Dad, quietly, "maybe they're already here."īut there was only the meadow, the machine, and themselves. "What will they look like? How will we know them?" "We got to watch out the rest of our lives.
But sunrise, noon, or at the latest, sunset tomorrow they'll show. God knows what shape they'll come in next.
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