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ramp to the street that the thought hit Colin.
He caught hold of Ed's arm and pulled him to a halt.
"Ed," he said, "how do you know a horse is a horse?"
Ed pulled his arm away roughly. "I'm in no mood for
jokes right now," he said, "so do me a favor and skip it."
"I'm not kidding. How do you know a horse is a horse?"
"All right, Mr. Interlocutor. How do I know a horse is a
horse? Because it looks like a horse. That's how." Ed stopped.
"You can't mean. . . ."
"That's exactly what I mean," Colin said. "Turn our
problem inside out. Don't try to build a horse and make it fly,
instead, take a creature that can fly already and make it took
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like a horse."
THE TRIUMPH OF PEGASUS 259
Ed was laughing. Colin thought he heard a hysterical note
in the sound.
"A ... a ... thousand-pound bird."
"It wouldn't weigh a thousand pounds. Birds are built dif-
ferently from horses. Hollow bones. . . . Are you listening?"
But Ed was still laughing. "A ... a horse with feathers."
"What is a feather if not a modified hair . . . and vice
versa."
Ed was wiping his eyes. "Hollow bones. Did you ever heft
the bones of a thirty-pound turkey? You build an animal as
big as a horse, it's going to weigh like a horse. You've still
got half a ton to lift into the air, and it doesn't much matter
whether it's a horse muscle or a bird muscle that tries to do it.
It still is an impossible job."
Ed was right. To end up with what they wanted, they
would have to start with something just as special. "I'm
sorry," Colin said, "I ... I'm Just not thinking straight."
They made their way on up the ramp and walked the
not-so-great distance to their office buildings. Colin laughed
shortly when they came in sight of it. "It's a cold night. I
hope Mrs. Bullitt hasn't managed to have us locked out."
Colin thought he was making a bitter joke, but when they
reached the door of their office, a small green placard hung
on its knob. The terms of their lease clearly prohibited the use
of the premises as living quarters. Would they kindly be
ready to vacate in the required three days.
"She is a witch," Ed said, his eyes staring.
But all Colin could do was pound his clenched hand against
the wall of the passageway until the pain of it brought him to
some semblance of calm.
"We're going back," he finally said. "We're going back
and we'll sign her contract. We'll give her something. I don't
know what, but believe me, it will look like a horse . . . and
I promise you ... it will fly."
At the Arena they found Mrs. Bullitt in the Manager's
office rattling a fistful of papers under the balding man's
nose while the handful of clerks in the room made it plain
that they were too deep in their work to see ... or hear . . .
260 F.A. Javor
what was going on. Fleetingly, Colin wondered if she wore
those roweled spurs to bed.
She did not seem suprised to see them, nor did she seem
inclined to take Colin and Ed to her own office- She half-
turned away from the manager, the papers still clutched in a
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fist, to face them. "You're back," she snapped. "I told you
you would be."
The waspish tone of her voice might have made Colin turn
around and walk away from her only the day before. Now, in
some perverse way, it made him stand his ground.
He was surprised at how quiet his voice sounded. "Yes,
Mrs. Bullitt. i think we're ready to accept your assignment."
The woman in the striped coat and boots made an abrupt
motion to one of the clerks and the girl came to her immedi-
ately. "There's a blue envelope on my desk. Get it," Mrs.
Bullitt snapped. The girl scurried out the door.
"I knew you'd be back," she said to Colin and Ed. "You
see, it's all a question of understanding people. It always is. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]