Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [187]
"I certainly do. But everything else is typical of these fantasies I have when I'm waking up. Like this alleged language I'm speaking: it's just something my subconscious made up, to fit in with the surroundings—just gibberish, but at the moment it seems to make perfectly good sense. Too bad I can't get a tape recording of it. It would be interesting to know if it's actually a self-consistent system, or just a bunch of random sounds."
"Tazlo—please don't! You frighten me! You . . . you don't even sound like yourself!"
"Actually, I'm not," O'Leary said. "I'm actually a fellow named Lafayette O'Leary. But don't be frightened, I'm harmless."
"Tazlo—you mustn't!" Sisli whispered. "What if Wizner Hiz hears you?"
"Who's he?"
"Tazlo—Wizner Hiz is the Visioner of Thallathlone! He might not understand that you're just raving because of a blow on the head! He might take this talk of being someone else seriously! Remember what happened to Fufli Hun!"
"I'm afraid it's slipped my mind. What did happen to poor old Fufli?"
"They . . . Sang him Out."
Lafayette chuckled. "Sisli, anyone who's sat through a concert of the Royal Artesian Philharmonic isn't afraid of any mere choral group." Lafayette sat up, felt a sharp pain in the small of his back—a pain that seemed to originate from a point in midair, two feet above and to the left of his shoulder blade. He twisted his head, saw a bale of white bandages from which rather bedraggled russet feathers protruded.
"What—are you still here?"
"Who?" Sisli said in alarm. "Tazlo, you're not seeing invisible enemies, are you?"
"I'm talking about these infernal wings," Lafayette said. "I dreamed I flew through the air with the greatest of ease—until I crash-landed in a treetop. Then there was something about being attacked by meat-eating pigeons—and then a birdman arrived, and . . . and that's all I remember." He rubbed his head. "Funny—by now I should be waking up and having a good laugh about the whole thing . . ."
"Tazlo—you are awake! Can't you tell? You're here—in Thallathlone, with me!"
"And before the flying sequence," Lafayette went on, frowning in deep thought, "there was the business of being marooned on a mountaintop. A pretty obvious symbolism, reflecting my feeling of isolation with my problem. You see, I'd found this Focal Referent—some kind of probability gadget, I think, stolen from Central—and I was having a terrible time trying to get word to the authorities—"
"Tazlo—forget all that! It was just a nightmare! Now you're awake! You're going to be fine—just as soon as your wing heals!"
"I find that if you run over a dream in your mind as soon as you wake up, you can fix it in your conscious memory. Now, let's see: there was the man in the cave—that was spooky! He was under an enchantment, I suppose—except that the logical part of my mind cooked up something called a Stasis Pod to rationalize things. He represents Wisdom, I suppose—but the way he attacked me suggests that I must have a suppressed fear of knowledge."
"Tazlo—why don't we step outside and get a little sunlight, maybe that will dispel these morbid fancies—"
"Just a minute; this is pretty interesting. I never knew you could psychoanalyze yourself just by dissecting your dreams. I always thought I approved of Science—but apparently it's a secret bugaboo of mine. Now, let's see—there was a little old man, too—a cherubic type, he found me after I fell over the cliff, and brought me home and gave me a marvelous breakfast." Lafayette smiled at the recollection. "At the time it didn't even seem strange that someone living in a grass hut would have a refrigerator full of gourmet items—"
"Are you hungry, Tazlo? I have a lovely big boolfruit, just picked."
"Sure, why not?" Lafayette grinned indulgently at the girl. "I may as well sample everything this dream provides—including you . . ." He caught her hand, pulled her to him, kissed her warmly on the mouth.
"Tazlo!" She stared into his eyes with a look of amazed delight. At