Sense from Thought Divide
by Mark Clifton
Alt‑text: Interior illustration by van Dongen – a nervous secretary faces a be‑robed “Swami” while a business‑suited man enters.
[p 8]
“Remembrance and reflection, how allied; what thin partitions sense from thought divide.” – Pope
When I opened the door to my secretary’s office, I could see her looking up from her desk at the Swami’s face with an expression of fascinated scepticism. The Swami’s back was toward me and on it hung the flowing folds of a black cloak. His turban was white, except where it had rubbed against the back of his neck.
“A tall, dark, and handsome man will soon come into your life,” he was intoning in that sepulchral voice men habitually use in their dealings with the Absolute.
Sara’s green eyes focused beyond him—on me—and began to twinkle. “And there he is right now,” she commented dryly. “Mr Kennedy, Personnel Director for Computer Research.”
[p 9]
The Swami whirled around, his heavy robe following the movement in a practiced swirl. His liquid black eyes looked me over shrewdly, and he bowed toward me as he vaguely touched his chest, lips, and forehead. I expected him to murmur “Effendi” or “Bwana Sahib,” or something, but he must have felt silence was more impressive.
I acknowledged his greeting by pulling down one corner of my mouth. Then I looked at his companion. The young lieutenant was standing very straight, very stiff, and a flush of pink was starting up from his collar and spreading around his clenched jaws to leave a semicircle of white in front of his red ears…
[Transcription in progress – the remainder of the novelette will appear here in the next update.]