The Deadly Sky Read Online Free PDF

with a drell.”
    “Sargoth is different,” I said.
    “As I want to be different.”
    “You’re soft in the head.”
    I had never seen an unctuous smile until I met the receptionist who worked in the front office of the drell’s establishment.
    “Mr. Somely,” he said without interest. He looked from me to Willmett and back again, smiled in his sickening way and settled his gaze upon me.
    “All we want is literature,” I said.
    “I’ve already read it,” said Willmett. “I’m ready for the first step.”
    “That isn’t enough.” Somely looked bored. “Unless you’re ready for the last step you shouldn’t be here.”
    “Can’t we go in the back?” said my friend. “To surgery?”
    I elbowed him without making myself too obvious. It seemed in gross bad taste to express a desire to see people having their arms, legs, heads and whatever disconnected. In fact I was so disgusted by the mere idea that I wanted to kick Willmett and stalk out of the place.
    “You have my permission to leave,” he said to me in cold tones, obviously having read my mind.
    I would have done so, but hanging around trying to haul his chestnuts from the fire had almost become habit. I merely stepped aside and waited to see what Somely was going to do. Perhaps he would cart my friend away and that would be the last I would ever see of him. Surely I wouldn’t be interested in continuing our friendship if he ended up like Sargoth. One glass-covered personality was enough for me, and besides it wouldn’t be Willmett anymore. A person was flesh and bones, eyes, nose, hair and physical mannerisms. He was a sniffle, flash of teeth, dirty fingernails, hairy knuckles, a whisper, glance of recognition, glowing soul endowed with shortcomings. Take those away and what did you have left?
    “Come back at nine o’clock Thursday morning for your examination,” said Somely.
    “Why?” I said. “Does his body have to be healthy before you’ll begin to take it away from him?”
    “Mental tests. Do you mind?”
    “Don’t pay any attention to him,” Willmett said of me. “He’s an idealist and a substance worshiper. Nothing is any good unless it needs a deodorant.”
    Outside in the street he drew a breath of fresh air and patted himself on the chest. “I can’t make it through life in the normal manner. Maybe I’ll do better as a glass man.”
    “I’m warning you,” I said. “If you show up here Thursday, that’s the end of our acquaintanceship. It will prove you’re totally crazy and unfit to be around.”
    He looked at me in angry amusement. “You have a lot of nerve questioning my sanity. Between you and the old boy there isn’t a full brain to be found anywhere. He’s senile and you’re a mad scientist.”
    “I mean it. If I see you anywhere near this place Thursday—”
    “You might for a minute or two, before I pass my mentals. Then it’s the glass jar for me.”
    On the way home alone I stopped at an astrologer’s booth on the boulevard to have my bad dream interpreted. For three dollars I was fed a great deal of nonsense about my harboring a secret desire to try my wings and fly away to another life-style, thoughts of which supposedly scared the daylights out of me.
    The fact was that I lived the way I wanted. Having run away from home and civilization at age twelve, I knew how the other half lived and I possessed the sense to realize that hedonism combined with poverty wasn’t for me. Some sort of maturing effect had imparted to me at least a partial understanding of my father and what it was he expected of me. I was more aware of the kind of existence he wanted for me than he. It would be all right with him if I turned out to be decent and happy, and it didn’t matter that he wasn’t the gushing sort with his affections. Intent and meaning, though often silent, were all too audible in the world. For instance, I knew that Willmett was filled with self-hatred. He was no more a fit candidate for drelldom than