The City. Dean Koontz

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       Prelude

      Malcolm gives me a tape recorder.

      He says, “You’ve got to talk your life.”

      “I’d rather live the now than talk about the was.”

      Malcolm says, “Not all of it. Just the … you know.”

      “I’m to talk about the you know?”

      Malcolm says, “People need to hear it.”

      “What people?”

      Malcolm says, “Everybody. These are sad times.”

      “I can’t change the times.”

      Malcolm says, “It’s a sad world. Lift it a little.”

      “You want me to leave out all the dark stuff?”

      Malcolm says, “No, man. You need the dark stuff.”

      “Oh, I don’t need it. Not me.”

      Malcolm says, “The dark makes the light stuff brighter.”

      “So when I’m done talking about the you know—then what?”

      Malcolm says, “You make it a book.”

      “You going to read this book?”

      Malcolm says, “Mostly. Parts of it I wouldn’t be able to see clear enough to read.”

      “What if I read those parts to you?”

      Malcolm says, “If you’re able to see the words, I’d listen.”

      “By then I’ll be able. Talking it the first time is what will kill me.”