Glass Houses
SHE IS STANDING IN HER WINDOW waiting for me. She waits for me every night when I come on guard. She knows my post as well as I do—knows exactly when I will appear around the curvature of the force field. We are would-be lovers, she and I, thwarted by time and electronic sorcery.
In the lights that the army installed around the Time colony, we can see each other as well as though it were day. She smiles at me as I gaze up at her through the invisible field. Marianne. Her face is that of a beautiful woman and simultaneously that of a child. She has just combed her bright yellow hair. Her negligee is pink, but not much more so than the flesh it tries to conceal.
The field acts as a sound barrier, too, but we have learned to read each other’s lips. With hers, she forms the words I love you, Wayne. I form the words I love you, too with mine.
Who would dream that love could come to a sentry while he walked his post? Who would dream he could awaken love in a girl from the future who had come back to the past?
I ask the oft-repeated question: Marianne, have you found a way? She answers: No, but I will soon.
I want to take you in my arms. I want to kiss your hair.
I want you to.
So somehow you must escape.
Only with a disseminator can I burn through the field, and a disseminator is difficult to obtain.
Why are you imprisoned in the past?
I told you before, it does not matter why.
You must escape, Marianne. I cannot live without you.
I will, I will, I will.
* * *
I continue on my way. At unexpected times, the corporal of the guard makes his rounds, and I do not want him to catch me talking to Marianne. I walk to where the next post begins. The sentry who has it has moved out of sight beyond the curvature of the field. I would be able to see him, but the colonists’ houses are in the way. I am grateful for the conformation of the colony, for it has enabled me to keep my trysts with Marianne a secret from the other guards.
I unsling my rifle and rest for a while before starting back. It is a warm August night. I cannot see the stars because of the mercury-vapor lights, but I know that they are out. I think the moon has set. I re-sling my rifle and start back. It is unnecessary baggage. It is meant to discourage people from coming too close to the field, but the colony is out of bounds by night and no one ever comes near it.
Marianne disappeared from the window when I left. Now she reappears. I have thought of you all day, she “says.”
And I have thought of you.
There must be other women in your life besides me.
There are none anymore.
I find that hard to believe.
It is true. But with you, there must be other men.
The men I know, compared to you, are dead leaves blowing in the wind.
We converse at intervals the whole night through. We do so every night when I am on guard. At 6:30, we say good night; at 7:00, I am relieved. She must be sound asleep by now. Perhaps she is dreaming of me.
I know that I shall dream of her.
* * *
I do not like the army, but it has proved to be a blessing in disguise, for if I had not enlisted, I would never have found Marianne.
No doubt I would have come to see the Time Colony and would have stood with the other sightseers staring at the people and the houses beyond the field. But I would not have seen Marianne. Even if she had come to her window, I would not have seen her, for sightseers are not allowed to go close to the field. Then, too, the colony has many windows, and during the day many people from the future look through them into the past. With so many faces and standing so far away, I would never have been able to isolate Marianne’s.
The first time I went on duty at night, I had the eleven-to-seven shift. For a while all the windows were empty, then Marianne stepped into hers. I looked up at her and she looked down at me. After that, I made sure I got the same post again each time I went on guard at night. The other guys did not care which section of the field they patrolled. They did not know about Marianne. Soon she and I learned to read each other’s lips. Soon we fell in love.
I asked the lieutenant who is in charge of our contingent if I could have the eleven-to-seven shift right along. He looked at me as though he thought I were crazy. Then he shrugged and said it was all right with him. I was tempted to ask him if I could dispense with my nights off, but I did not think it would be wise. I always tell Marianne ahead of time when someone else will be walking my post. I know she does not appear in her window on those nights, for whenever one of the other guys sees an attractive woman, he raves about it for days.
* * *
When the Time Colony first appeared, there was a national alert, and the army at once put it out of bounds. Only after it became certain that it posed no danger and that the force field enclosing it threw forth no harmful radiation was the restriction lifted. Thousands of people began coming to view the phenomenon, people from all over the world, and the nearby town of Weberville began growing fat and rich. Only a contingent of troops guards the field now, but in the beginning our whole company was involved. But interest waned, and there really was not much of anything to see, since the colony, despite the field enclosing it, does not look markedly different from an ordinary village. People, in fact, have even begun referring to it as such. If it is indeed a village, it is a dead one, for the people in it do not work. All they do is go for leisurely walks, or sit for hours in the “village” park. The only real activity they ever engage in is a game much like croquet that they sometimes play in their back yards. Their houses are as uninteresting as they are. The structures are modular, but in appearance do not differ greatly from most modern two-story dwellings. Nevertheless, in two respects the colony, when thought of as a village, is unique: It contains no children, and all of the “villagers” are beautiful.
My “villager” is the most beautiful one of all.
* * *
Marianne, you must hurry and find a way.
The only way is with a disseminator.
Get one now.
I cannot. They are for emergency use only and are under lock and key. But I will get the key, Wayne—I will, I will, I will.
Who has it? Your jailer?
There is no jailer. We are not truly imprisoned, but it is against the rules for any of us to leave.
Why should it be against the rules?
It is not necessary for you to know.
I want you, Marianne.
I want you, too.
I cannot wait to hold you in my arms.
I will get the key, Wayne—I will, I will, I will.
* * *
END OF SAMPLE
Buy this Ebook to finish reading the above story.