Time is the Simplest Thing

“A tough one?” asked one face.

“They all are tough,” said Blaine.

If you ever should go alien, take it on the lam.

Far off he saw the life — the thing that sprawled limply on the floor, as a lazy man might sprawl, not doing anything, not expecting to do anything, but just lying there.

It was pink; an exciting pink, not a disgusting pink as pink so often can be, not a washed-out pink, nor an anatomical pink, but a very pretty pink, the kind of pink the little girl next door might wear at her seventh birthday party.

Hi, pal, it said. I trade with you my mind.

to know the trail.”

“But why, in the name of God—”

“