Melodramatic thought…
He poured himself a glass of brandy and drank it slowly. When it was finished, he left the office and ascended to his private chambers.
On the desk in his residential office lay the draft of his next sermon. He was alone now-wife dead, both children dead. He had nothing left but his company and his church. Politics was over for him, at least as a personal activity.
He toyed with the ancient pen he always used to hand write these pieces, but, looking down the lines of neatly calligraphed words, he could think of nothing more to add just now.
The world was ending and he had said everything…
Looms shook his head. Ridiculous. Still, he felt that way often. What if, tomorrow, time stopped and the end came? Would he have done all he needed to do?
Some things he no longer could finish.
There were words he had needed to say to Nyom…
He walked into his bedroom.
Someone sat on the edge of the bed. A large man, dressed darkly, bare head bowed.
"Who are you?" Looms asked automatically. He thought of the gun in his nightstand.
The man raised his head. The room's lighting played off of pale skin, rough, scarred complexion, and large eyes that seemed somehow artificial. He grinned.
"Hello, Daddy," said Gamelin. "So nice to see you after all these years.,.."
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Document ID: fbd-524005-2d2e-1c4e-ecb1-35b6-9973-756b41
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 27.07.2008
Created using: Fiction Book Designer software
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Chimera (isaac asimov's robot mystery) Page 38
