But there was no note on the landing of the first unmanned rocket
on Luna.
He put the notes away and went back to his desk, rummaging through the
drawers, and finding nothing. He searched everywhere in the apartment
where a sheet of paper could have been mislaid, taking all his
books, one by one, from the shelves and leafing through them, even
books he knew he had not touched for more than three years. In the
end, he sat down again at his desk, defeated. The note on the _Kilroy_
simply did not exist.
Of course, that didn't settle it, as finding the note would have. He
remembered--or believed he remembered--having gotten that item of
knowledge--or delusion--in 1970, shortly before the end of the school
term. It hadn't been until after the fall opening of school that he
had begun making notes. He could have had the knowledge of the robot
rocket in his mind then, and neglected putting it on paper.
He undressed, put on his pajamas, poured himself a drink, and went to
bed. Three hours later, still awake, he got up, and poured himself
another, bigger, drink. Somehow, eventually, he fell asleep.
* * * * *
The next morning, he searched his desk and book-case in the office at
school.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35