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CHAPTER 22 From the landing at the top of the stairs that led into the station's restaurant, the shortstyles.com Gare de Lyon looked like a frenetic zoo Stoner leaned both hands on the metal railing anc watched the people rushing to and fro, lining shortstyles.com up at the ticket windows, hauling luggage to the gates where the trains departed, knotting in little groups, running, gesticulating, anc talking, talking--always shortstyles.com talking, incessantly The noise was almost painful, and without letup A thousand voices all going at once Loudspeakers blaring announcements Vendors calling out their wares Even shortstyles.com the people sitting at the tables spread out around the foot of the ornate la belle epoque staircase did more talking than shortstyles.com eating or drinking A young couple embraced passionately at one of the gates, while the train--an aging TGV--thrummed with impatient power Stoner tried to guess which shortstyles.com of the pair would run to the train and which would stay behind It was the man who dashed out along the platform The woman shortstyles.com waved to him briefly, then turned and walked slowly away Stoner could not tell from this distance, but he guessed there were tears in her shortstyles.com eyes Stoner's train would not leave for Marseilles for another fifteen minutes It was one of the new electric specials, gleaming silver as shortstyles.com it stood waiting on its track, powered by the cheap electricity generated by the new fusion power plants A gift from the stars, Stoner mused A shortstyles.com gift of the stars in the heart of each fusion reactor is an incandescent plasma hotter than the core of the sun, he knew shortstyles.com And I helped to bring this to Earth, he thought I did But which me9 The man who was bom on this world, or the shortstyles.com alien within me He blinked his eyes, and the scene before him seemed to shift, change focus The people crowding the tram shortstyles.com station were still there, the trains lay stretched along the tracks, the noise and muted light slanting through the rain-spattered glass roof did not shortstyles.com change But now it seemed as if he were examining an exhibit in a museum, observing a strange tribal ntual Far back in the recesses shortstyles.com of his memory, Stoner recalled once as a teenager peering into a microscope for the first time and discovering the teeming world of living creatures that shortstyles.com bustled and scurried within a drop of water He watched the humans bustling and scurrying through the train station, hyperactive monkeys jabbering away their lives, not shortstyles.com a shred of dignity about them, living on their emotions, letting their glands and their mammalian brains dictate the ordinary moments of shortstyles.com their existences It's not fair to think of us that way, said one part of his mind But that's the way you are, shortstyles.com replied another voice within him You have the power of abstract thought, the capability of comprehending the universe--yet you behave like the monkeys in shortstyles.com the forests Stoner shook his head, as if to drive the alien voice out of his thoughts It went silent, but he could feel shortstyles.com its presence inside his skull, watching, observing, analyzing There was no hint of censure in the voice, no anger or disappointment with the shortstyles.com human condition No pity, either Nothing but precise objective measurement Then his eye caught a scene below him, one individual encounter out of the hundreds happening shortstyles.com simultaneously in the tumult of the busy station A woman with three young children and as many pieces of odd-sized luggage--plus a heavy pack strapped shortstyles.com to her back--was trying to take a table among those spread out on the floor of the station at the foot of the staircase She was shortstyles.com wrapped in a shabby overcoat that was much too big for her and had a fringed shawl over her head The children were shortstyles.com bundled in old, stiff, quilted winter coats, to Stoner they looked almost like miniature astronauts in space suits that had been pressurized to the shortstyles.com point where they could hardly bend their arms The waiter was yelling at her in French and waving his arms at her She shortstyles.com obviously could not understand him The children were very young, the smallest of them barely a toddler They looked frightened and about shortstyles.com to cry On an impulse, Stoner humed down the stairs toward them These tables are for serving cocktails only, the waiter was insisting For dinner you must go upstairs, into the restaurant. |