"Barlow, C S - Juxtaposed, Yet Infinitely Distant" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barlow C S)

At nine I ate a solitary breakfast (a servant told me Kathrine had not yet risen), and then proceeded to Connerly's study.
With my tread on the last step, I heard his voice. "You're alone, aren't you, Stephenson? Of course you are -- I recognize her footsteps. Let me get the key."
A click, and the door swung back into the gloomy study. With no less trepidation than before, I entered.
"My right forearm and hand went during the night, Stephenson. I can pick my ear and rub my toe! Sit down and watch."
I closed and locked the door. The drapes, again, were only partly open, and, as previously, my friend was positioned before them, though without the deerstalker. With a touch of horror I noted the slackness of his dressing gown's right sleeve. As I sat, Connerly leaned over the table, exhibiting the left side of his head. "Watch," he repeated.
I stared at the impossible absence, noting with peripheral sight the movement of his right arm up across his chest (sleeve unsupported from the elbow down). A pink disc unexpectedly eclipsed what remained of the ear, grew, and was quickly centred, target-like, by a smaller white disc, which itself gained a honeycomb heart. I was looking at the perfect, living, cross-section of a finger.
"It's wonderful, isn't it, Stephenson? Think how a biologist would value this! Would you like to see the stump? It's quite fascinating observing the muscles flex."
I declined. Surprised at my ability to disregard the situation, I told Connerly what I had resolved to say since the early morning's incidents, "You must stop this at once, Stanley. You don't know what you're getting into! And you're driving your wife, your wife, mad! Didn't you hear her this morning?"
The glee on his face disappeared, he lowered his arm and sat back. "I heard her. But I have told you, Stephenson, she cannot know. Stop this? Were I so inclined, it would be impossible. The sphere is inaccessible, responding to nothing while it transports me. Didn't you tell Kathrine what I said?"
"She saw through it."
"Unfortunate. But there's nothing to be done about it. Nothing, I tell you. Forget the subject. Now, you must have other questions."
I glared at him. It was true, in spite of myself there were more queries. But I could not ask them, I would be condoning his actions.
"Ah. I see I have upset you. Then I shall assume your questions: you recall my letter mentioning the difficulty the cultists must have faced constructing the pentagram? And how none of us at the dig could explain how they did it? Well, it's obvious now, isn't it? As the globe easily whisks beings to Aldebaran, what's to stop it summoning aid for the cultists from the star? It's quite fantastic -- ahhh."
"What?" I asked.
He grinned. "My right thigh has just crossed over."
I leaned forwards. Where the thigh should have filled his pyjama leggings they lay loose, deflated. And yet there was the knob of his knee and the remainder of his leg, upright.
"Can you stand?"
He stood, and walked about as if nothing was amiss, tugging at the empty material happily.



And that was the way of it for the next few days. Each time I entered his study -- I was given the key; he knew he would eventually become unable to admit me -- to find another part of him, in haphazard order, missing. Fingers, further toes, his scalp. He even guessed when internal organs had "crossed over": "My stomach seems surprisingly yielding today, Stephenson." He came to resemble a walking anatomy lesson, and I saw his wisdom in banishing Kathrine, whom I saw less and less and grew more despairing of, for she now rarely left her rooms. I often wondered if she wanted me gone, but -- thankfully, because I had become as enthusiastic as Connerly -- she never suggested it. I myself had grown almost uncaring at Connerly's aspect, but I had had time to adjust.
His other ear departed, and I was forced to scribble my comments upon a pad. Eagerly, we both awaited the transporting of an eye, his sense of touch feeling nothing but cool floors and still air, his ears catching nothing but occasional whistles. What wonders would he behold? What sights?
And one morning I found him, stood upon his remaining foot, his visibly unattached left hand resting on the desk, continually turning his head about, his right eye closed, the left open and revealing, to my excitement, bunched extraocular muscles and his optic nerve.
I grabbed his shoulder, startling his whole eye open. He grinned. The stump of his right arm moved towards his empty eyesocket -- he was covering that eye there to simplify his vision here.
"It's happened, Stephenson! I've seen Aldebaran as if it were our own sun! It's huge, incredibly bright, but maroon clouds diffuse the rays. Maroon clouds? Yes, man! The clouds are maroon, and the sky is three different shades of yellow! It's the most amazing sight! Over there I'm in a roofless chamber, circular with a diameter double that of this study, black, and seamless, with walls far too high to see over and no apparent window or egress. There's another sphere there, twin to this. They'll be connected, don't you think? Wait a minute."
He closed his right lid again, and let his arm drop. "This planet must spin faster than Earth, Aldebaran's disappearing over the wall... There, it's gone. Oh! A flight of ... of things has just shot across the sky -- I didn't see them clearly, I'm not sure if they were creatures or machines. It's beginning to darken now. The sky's turning orange... falling quickly through red... purple. Oh Good God, man! The cities! They outnumber the stars! I can see them flashing message beams to one-another. Pyramids, cuboids, cylinders. And the moons, Stephenson! Huge moons! Faces swarming with... I don't know, indistinct moving things. They must be bigger than New York! Hello, I can hear that whistling again, but louder this time. Continuing to increase in volume. Oh! The floor just shuddered. The walls are beginning to open outwards, like a flower! The whistling's getting quite uncomfortable ... I can almost see what's about me ... I seem to be on a tow--"
He stopped. His jigsaw body began to shudder.
Like a fool I shouted at him, "Connerly! Connerly, what's wrong, man?!"
He started to pant, canine-like. His jaw clamped shut, hung slack, and then stretched wide, "BRING ME BACK STEPHENSON! Oh Jesus God."
Desperate, I moved to grab his shoulder, but it winked out of this existence. I almost stumbled. His dressing gown began to slide off.
The words rolled together as he began to shout, "There are towers everywhere to the horizon and there are THINGS on them winged THINGS too pulling and tearing and chittering Byhakee they are Byhakee! Wrongwrongwrong! GodLordGod!"
The door crashed open behind me. I had neglected to lock it. I knew who it was, but I could not turn, I was transfixed:-
"The SCREAMING STOP THE SCREAMING something's coming for me a city! Huge incomprehensible city its opening oh Good Jesus BRING ME BACK!"
The top of his skull went, leaving only the eye and a slice of brain. Kathrine gibbered behind me. Then his extant limbs, as one, jumped the terrifying gap.
"SCREAMING stopistopit they ring me now flapping chittering I smell them taste them! Something's descend... What is it what STOP SCREAMING backbackbackbackba-"
The transference accelerated. His head crossed, silencing him; his torso, and the dressing gown fell floor-wards. Only a rapidly beating heart and bloodshot eye were left, suspended. The orb swivelled away from me, its pupil gaping towards Kathrine... and was gone. The heart swelled, fit to burst, before it too vanished.



1939

And that is it.
Kathrine went mad; and, blamed with her husband's disappearance, has been incarcerated in an insane asylum -- which I, to my everlasting shame, allowed (but what could I do? Tell the truth?). Background and the complete lack of evidence has kept me from possible sentence.
The globe lies at the bottom of Loch Morar, and Connerly's notes and books have been incinerated.
I offer no answers. I have none. Some amongst you will scoff at my tale, accusing me of weaving fantasy about facts. Please continue; as I said at the beginning, it is safer that way.