Crazy Radio eBooks

--Traveling
bars flowing along endlessly.
And then a great ball whirling in planetary space, half dark, half
incandescent white, having for its sole inhabitant, the small harried
thing that struggled to keep in the dark out of the glare of that
pitiless white pain.--One watched its struggles from a long way
off--like God.--But the ball whirled drunkenly and it made one sick to
look.--And then a supervening chaos--no longer a ball but still
whirling, reeling, tottering. Rectangles of light, which, had they kept
still, would have been windows--a mirror.
And then, very fine and small and weak, something that knew it was Rose
Stanton--Rose Stanton lying in a bed with people about her. She let her
eyes fall heavily shut again lest they should discover she was there and
want her to speak or think.
The bars came back, but the whiteness of them was no longer so white,
and slowly they faded out. Then, for a long time, nothing. Then sounds,
movements--soft, skilful, disciplined sounds and movements.


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