Tomorrow Is Too Far by James White Read Free Book Online Page A

short, simple words describing what they were and how they worked, and he told her proudly that he had been studying the book to help him do his job better when he started work here. The reason he could not read the chart was because the letters on the chart were made differently.
    He had asked if it would be all right if he drew pictures of the letters he could see. She had said yes and handed him a pencil and scratch pad ...
    ‘ ... It took a long time,’ she concluded in the tone of one not expecting to be believed, ‘but he copied down every blasted letter on the chart, right down to the last line ...!‘
    She stopped but it was obvious that she wanted to say much more. Carson nodded and said quietly, ‘So he had perfect eyesight as well as muscles. But how did he impress you as a person ...?’
    ‘He made me furious! ‘ she said, her healthy colour deepening with remembered emotion. ‘There he stood, as perfect a physical specimen as I’m ever likely to see, but looking at me the way a kid looks at the teacher on his first day at school! He was so childish, so ... so innocent ... I wanted to spit or maybe burst into tears at the injustice of it all.’ She tried, not very successfully, to laugh. ‘Of course, professional etiquette forbade me doing either.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘As a fairly normal, healthy, twenty-eight-year-old spinster of this parish,’ she went on, still trying not to be serious, ‘I have the usual maternal and other instincts. Seeing him standing there, he was such a baby as well as being a man--it hit me a double wallop above and below the belt, if you know what I mean. All I can say is that when that overgrown baby reaches the age, if he ever does, of taking an interest in girls, he’ll be irresistible and I’ll envy every single one of them . . .!‘
    She took a deep breath, then ended, ‘That is how Mr Pebbles impressed me, Mr Carson. I have the qualifications to undertake an even deeper and more searching self-analysis, but probably I’ve shocked you enough for one day. Do you want to talk to my chief about this?’ Carson shook his head and stood up. ‘You’ve been very helpful, Doctor, thank you. Well, I’ll be seeing you.’
    She looked up at him--not very far up because she was a tall girl--and he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being analysed now. Suddenly she smiled and said, ‘I doubt that, Mr Carson. You’re like John Pebbles, you never take sick ...’
     

Chapter Seven
     
    That night Carson worked later than usual. He was spending so much time on his unofficial enquiries that burning the midnight fluorescents was the only way he could move the routine paperwork which was piling up. But tonight his mind refused to stay permanently in focus even on the simple jobs. It kept wandering, always in the same direction.
    While processing parking space applications he found himself wondering if Pebbles could drive. If he had ever applied for a parking slot, that would be the obvious way of making friends with him by putting him under an obligation...
    Meanwhile, Bill Savage had sent him an urgent memo. His problem was that several department heads were crying out for staff. The staff in question had been interviewed and accepted, their starting notices were ready and waiting to go out to them, but they had not yet been cleared by Security. Bill would be most grateful if the matter could be expedited.
    There was very little Carson could do about that one. Security clearance of new employees--unless they were starting fairly high on the ladder--was simply a matter of checking nationality, place of birth, nationality of parents and relatives, political activities and police record if any, and seeing whether the person concerned travelled a lot or had spent a good part of his life in another country. The local police did most of the work and all too often they, with their quota of villains to catch, had ideas regarding the priorities which were not shared by Bill