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No Exit Larry Niven Produced by calibre 0.6.40 NO EXIT JEAN MARIE STINE & LARRY NIVEN The smoke spiraled up from his cigarette, engulfed his head and stung his nose: an acrid, chemical smell. He came back to consciousness and jerked his eyes up from his notebook to the ashtray. The coal was burning the filter. He stabbed it out with a muttered, "Shit." He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them Now. He resumed reading, sitting rigid in his armchair, concentrating fiercely on the page of yellow paper in the notebook. He might have been moving his eyes left to right, left to right, over blank paper. After finishing the first sentence he looked up and tried to visualize what he had read. Impossible. His recalcitrant memory would show him only one thing: The spiral. He slammed the book shut and started to throw it at a wall. Instead he got up, set the book aside and began pacing the room. His feet shook the floor as they fell. Down to the window by his littered desk, a pause to stare out at the barbershop across the street |
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