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HENRY KUTTNER and C. L. MOORE A Wild Surmise "Do you feel that you are dreaming now, Mr. Hooten?" Dr. Scott asked gently. Timothy Hooten evaded the psychiatrist's eyes. He fingered the smooth leather of the chair arms, found the sensation unsatisfactory, and turned his head to gaze out the window at the Empire State's tower. "It's like a dream, isn't it?" he said evasively. "What is?" "That." Hooten nodded at the needle-Eke mooring mast on the top of the tower. "Imagine mooring a dirigible to that thing. They never did, did they? It's just the sort of thing that would happen in a dream. You know. Big plans, and then somehow everybody forgets about it and starts something new. Oh, I don't know. Things get unreal." Solipsism, Dr. Scott thought, but suspended judgment. "What things?" he murmured. "You, for example," Hooten said. "You've got the wrong shape." ; "Can you amplify that, Mr. Hooten?" "Well, I don't know that I can," Hooten said, looking with fault alarm at his own hands. "I've got the wrong shape too, you see." "Do you know what the right shape is?" Hooten closed his eyes and thought hard. A look of astonishment passed fleetingly across his face. He scowled. Dr. &;ott, studying him closely, made a note on a desk pad. ^No," Hooten said, opening his eyes very wide and assuming a negativistic attitude. "I haven't the least idea." "Don't you want to tell me?" "I-ah-I don't know. I simply don't know." "Why did you come to see me, Mr. Hooten?" "My doctor said I should. So did my wife." "Do you feel they were right?" "ersonally," |
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