Fantastic Stories Presents the Fantastic Universe Super Pack. Roger Dee

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СКАЧАТЬ I could manage better. I experimented with a cereal called oatmeal, which was delicious, then I went back to the motel, packed up all my new belongings, left the key on the desk—as instructed by the sign on the door—and started out for Denver.

      *

      Denver, according to the Encyclopedia Americana, is more of a true metropolitan area than Colorado Springs; that means—on Earth—that it is dirtier, more crowded, far less pleasant to look at or live in, and a great deal more convenient and efficient to do business in. In Denver, and with the aid of a Colorado driver’s license for casual identification, I was able to sell two of my larger diamonds fairly quickly, at two different places, for something approximating half of their full value. Then I parked the car they had given me on a side street, took my suitcase, coat, and book with me, and walked to the nearest car sales lot. I left the keys in the old car, for the convenience of anyone who might want it.

      Everything went extraordinarily smoothly, with just one exception. I had found out everything I needed to know in that library, except that when dealing with humans, one must always allow for waste time. If I had realized that at the time I left Colorado Springs that morning, everything might have turned out very differently indeed—although when I try to think just what other way it could have turned out, I don’t quite know . . . and I wonder, too, how much they knew, or planned, before they sent me down there . . . .

      This much is sure: if I hadn’t assumed that a 70-mile trip, with a 60-mile average speed limit, would take approximately an hour and a half, and if I had realized that buying an automobile was not the same simple process as buying a nightgown, I wouldn’t have been late for my luncheon appointment. And if I’d been there on time, I’d never have made the date for that night. As it was, I started out at seven o’clock in the morning, and only by exceeding the speed limit on the last twenty miles of the return trip did I manage to pull into that diner parking space at five minutes before two.

      His car was still there!

      It is so easy to look back and spot the instant of recognition or of error. My relief when I saw his car . . . my delight when I walked in and saw and felt his mixture of surprise and joy that I had come, with disappointment and frustration because it was so late, and he had to leave almost immediately. And my complete failure, in the midst of the complexities of these inter-reactions, to think logically, or to recognize that his ordinary perceptions were certainly the equivalent of my own . . . .

      At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about any of these things. I spent a delirious sort of five minute period absorbing his feelings about me, and releasing my own at him. I hadn’t planned to do it, not so soon, not till I knew much more than I did—perhaps after another week’s reading and going about—but when he said that since I’d got there so late for lunch, I’d have to meet him for dinner, I found I agreed with him perfectly.

      *

      That afternoon, I bought a dress. This, too, took a great deal of time, even more than the car, because in the one case I simply had to look at a number of component parts, and listen to the operation of the motor, and feel for the total response of the mechanism, to determine whether it was suitable or not—but in the other, I had nothing to guide me but my own untrained taste, and the dubious preferences of the salesgirl, plus what I thought Larry’s reactions might be. Also, I had to determine, without seeming too ignorant, just what sort of dress might be suitable for a dinner date—and without knowing for sure just how elaborate Larry’s plans for the evening might be.

      I learned a lot, and was startled to find that I enjoyed myself tremendously. But I couldn’t make up my mind, and bought three dresses instead of one. It was after that, emboldened by pleasure and success, that I went back to that first drugstore. The Encyclopedia volume I had taken from the library, besides containing the information I wanted on Colorado, had an article on Cosmetics. I decided powder was unnecessary, although I could understand easily enough how important it must be to the native women, with their thick skin and large pores and patchy coloring; that accounted for the fact that the men were mostly so much uglier . . . and I wondered if Larry used it, and if that was why his skin looked so much better than the others’.

      Most of the perfumes made me literally ill; a few were inoffensive or mildly pleasant, if you thought of them just as smells, and not as something to be mistaken for one’sown smell. Apparently, though, from the amount of space given over to them on the counter, and the number of advertisements I had seen or heard for one brand or another, they were an essential item. I picked out a faint lavender scent, and then bought some lipstick, mascara, and eyebrow pencil. On these last purchases, it was a relief to find that I had no opportunity to display my ignorance about nuances of coloring, or the merits of one brand over another. The woman behind the counter knew exactly what I should have, and was not interested in hearing any of my opinions. She even told me how to apply the mascara, which was helpful, since the other two were obvious, and anyhow I’d seen them used on television, and the lipstick especially I had seen women use since I’d been here.

      It turned out to be a little more difficult than it looked, when I tried it. Cosmetics apparently take a good deal more experience than clothing, if you want to have it lookright. Right by their standards, I mean, so that your face becomes a formal design, and will register only a minimum of actual emotion or response.

      I was supposed to meet Larry in the cocktail lounge of a hotel in Manitou Springs, the smaller town I’d passed through the day before on my way down from the mountain. I drove back that way now, with all my possessions in my new car, including the purse that held not only my remaining diamonds and birth certificate, but also a car registration, driver’s license, wallet, money, and makeup. A little more than halfway there, I saw a motel with a “Vacancy” sign out, and an attractive clean look about it. I pulled in and got myself a room with no more concern than if I’d been doing that sort of thing all my life.

      This time there was no question about my age, nor was there later on that evening, in the cocktail lounge or anywhere else. I suppose it was the lipstick that made the difference, plus a certain increase in self-confidence; apparently I wasn’t too small to be an adult, provided I looked and acted like one.

      The new room did not have a bathtub. There was a shower, which was fun, but not as much as the tub had been. Dressing was not fun, and when I was finished, the whole effect still didn’t look right, in terms of my own mental image of an Earth-woman dressed for a date.

      It was the shoes, of course. This kind of dress wanted high heels. I had tried a pair in the store, and promptly rejected the whole notion. Now I wondered if I’d been too hasty, but I realized I could not conceivably have added that discomfort to the already-pressing difficulties of stockings and garter belt.

      This last problem got so acute when I sat down and tried to drive the car, that I did some thinking about it, and decided to take them off. It seemed to me that I’d seen a lot of bare legs with flat heels. It was only with high heels that stockings were a real necessity. Anyhow, I pulled the car over to the side on an empty stretch of road, and wriggled out of things with a great deal of difficulty. I don’t believe it made much difference in my appearance. No one seemed to notice, and I do think the lack of heels was more important.

      *

      All of this has been easy to put down. The next part is harder: partly because it’s so important; partly because it’s personal; partly because I just don’t remember it all as clearly.

      Larry was waiting for me when I got to the hotel. He stood up and walked over to me, looking at me as if I were the only person in the room besides himself, or as if he’d been waiting all his life, and only just that moment saw what it was he’d been waiting for. I don’t know how I looked at him, but I know how I felt all of a sudden, and I don’t СКАЧАТЬ