Night Of Light by Philip Jose Farmer

By Philip Jose Farmer

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Said one. “I think he is,” replied another. ” “No. ” Carmody began to feel less humiliated. Apparently, he was important, not only to the second group, but to the first. Though if the first wanted him for something, they had a strange way of enlisting him. What made the procedure so peculiar was that no man in the two groups was distinguished by any conventional marks of good or evil. All were handsome, vigorous, and seemingly self-confident. The only difference in their bearing was that the first, those who spoke for Yess, seemed to be having a good time, and were not afraid to lose their dignity in laughter.

His jaws moved vigorously while his blue eyes remained fixed on Carmody. The Earthman stopped when he was a few feet from him. ” “I know the reference in the phrase,” the Kareenan said. “You are a cool one. To answer your question, I am Yess. ” Carmody decided the Kareenan was no immediate threat. He continued his examination of the room by flashlight. At one end was an archway with steps leading upward. Above, projecting from the wall at a height of about forty meters, was a balcony. It was capable of holding about fifty spectators on its banked array of seats.

He had allowed himself to be caught up in the bronze thoughts of this statue, had felt as it did, had slowed time and let it lap around him gently and dreamily, just as he had experienced the hard scarlet lust of Skelder, Mary’s meltingness and liquid movements toward the satyr-priest, the impact of bullets tearing into her, her terror of death, of dissolvingness, and Ralloux’s agony of flesh in his sheet of flame and agony of soul over man’s damnation—just as he had felt all these, so now he had fallen prey to this creature’s mineral philosophy; and might perhaps have ended as it had, if something had not jarred him out of the fatal contemplation.

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