The Lotus Caves Read Online Free PDF

there was very little in the way of luxury.”
    He could see that while she was talking she was remembering; her face relaxed from its anxious lines into a smile. Marty asked: “When did he die?”
    She hesitated and the smile went. “After we came up here. A couple of years before you were born.”
    â€œWhat was he like?”
    â€œIt’s difficult to say. A hard man, in some ways. It was hopeless to try to argue with him when his mind was made up. And yet very gentle. Birds and animals did not seem to be frightened of him—he used to tame them wherever we went. And he had this tremendous sense of humor. He was always either terribly serious or making people laugh.”
    The smile had crept back. She went on talking about him, and Marty listened. He could see how happy she had been as a girl, and it made it worse that she was so much less happy now. This life, confining for all, was harder on her because of the freedom she had known. He asked her what his grandfather had thought about her decision to come to the Moon Colony, and she was evasive and sad. He did not press the point on her. There was no need to. It was very obvious what the big bearded man, the artist and the wanderer, would have felt about such a limited and colorless existence.
    He felt a sudden resentment against his father, who took the Bubble for granted, who was neither particularly serious nor humorous, whom it was difficult to imagine taming birds and animals even if one could imagine birds and animals being here. Above all, who was responsible for his mother being here instead of leading the life she really wanted—since plainly it was only because of his father that she had chosen to come.
    â€¢ • •
    Marty had seen very little of Steve since the interview with Mr. Sherrin. He had been asked to visit a lot, to homes where there was a boy of around his age, and his mother encouraged him to ask them back and put on special treats when he did so. Then one day he accidentally overheard a visiphone conversation between her and another mother, Mrs. Parker, which explained things. It was clear from what Mrs. Parker was saying that there was a general attempt being made to detach him from what was thought to be Steve’s bad influence. The old doubts and reservations about Steve had given rise to the conviction that he had been responsible for what had ­happened—that he had talked Marty into it.
    What brought Marty up short and made him particularly indignant was the fact that he had held a similar sort of view himself. He had been annoyed with Steve for helping to get him into trouble and very much aware of the idea having been Steve’s in the first place. He realized he had been, to some extent, avoiding him.
    That other people thought the same, that this was taken for granted in the Bubble, showed him the injustice of it. Even if the notion had been Steve’s he had more than cooperated. After all, he had painted the faces on the balloons. And Steve, who had been friendless in the first place, was being further isolated while he was having people make things easy for him. He waited until his mother had gone to the store and dialed Steve’s home. Steve himself answered, his face coalescing out of the blur of the screen.
    Marty said: “Hi. How are things with you?”
    â€œI’ve known them brighter. You?”
    â€œThe same. I wondered if you might be drifting up toward the park.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œUnless you’re busy.”
    It had occurred to him while he was talking that Steve might well be feeling some resentment over the way he had neglected him lately. He showed no sign of it, though. He laughed.
    â€œBusy doing nothing. I’ll see you there.”
    They met and talked; about nothing much but he felt better afterward. When he got back his mother asked him where he had been, and he told her. A little later she asked him if he were going over to Ben