Enigma upon enigma!
Initially only four volumes of the Castle Edition of The Eidolons were planned, for the simple reason that only four original paperbacks were found. Now, a fifth penny dreadful (Really ? how long are these cheap books expected to last? ? surely no more than a fortnight!) has appeared in its rightful place on the shelf next to its kin.
Curiously, the 'Preface' to the first edition was reproduced in this new volume, thereby giving new life to the 'inside job' theory of authorship. You may well imagine my chagrin at finding myself quoted on the back cover. 'Read the castle tales and enjoy!', indeed.
But what is absolutely mystifying… there are no words to express the emotion… is that this very 'Foreword' appeared as well ? paradoxically so, for I had not even begun to write it!
Yet here it is, written in an uncanny imitation of my own style, complete with expressions of my astonishment at finding it.
I will not begin an attempt at explanation. The librarian proposes, the library disposes!
Read on.
Why the vaguely Yiddish usage? Incidentally, even this footnote appears in the original.
One
Abelard, South Dakota
It was a stark and dormy night.
The campus was quiet. Northeastern State University wasn't the liveliest of schools, and it was Monday night, and it was snowing again, the wind howling out of the plains. Nothing to do but stay in the dorm and study.
There was enough on Melanie McDaniel's study agenda. Deadlines were approaching: a paper for Philosophy 101 on Aristotle's Ethics was due in three days, and one on Conrad's Nostromo, for English 125 (20th Century British Novels), had been due three days ago. There was a calculus test tomorrow. Other stuff. But Melanie didn't feel much like studying. She didn't feel much like doing anything but fiddling on her computer.
Fiddling was what it was. Melanie was on-line via modem to the campus's computer bulletin board system, or 'BBS.' Through it she was plugged into a worldwide network of amateur computer users called the CyberNet. The Net was a forum, a meeting place, for people who liked to gab about anything and everything. The discussions were grouped into topic-areas, with subjects ranging from current events to 'Star Trek' to computer software. Melanie posted messages in many areas, but she particularly liked Woman Talk: The National Women's Forum, a cross between a slumber party and a backroom political caucus.
The cathode-ray tube of Melanie's IBM clone displayed:
To: Melanie McDaniel
From: Cindy Thayer
Msg
Subject: Men again!
I second the emotion. Men are congenitally polygamous, as in Higgamus Piggamus. When WE'RE that way, we're 'sluts.' You can't win, kid. Sorry you lost him. But there are a lot of fish in that sea ? except that they're all kind of slimy and scaly. Keep your chin up. Bye!
Cindy
?
Origin: The Boardinghouse: Cooperstown, NY (1:398/276.9)
She looked out the window. Icy snowflakes ticked against the glass. Abelard was completely blotted out. Nothing was visible except an outside light in the quadrangle, a yellow halo in the darkness. She thought about Chad and about how the last thing he had said to her was that he needed 'space' and that the relationship wasn't going anywhere and that he needed to be free of commitments in order to concentrate on getting through a tough term on his way to his economics degree. Maybe when he was through grad school and had his MBA he'd be ready for a serious relationship.
Yeah? So then what was he doing now, impaled as he was on the claws of Nadine Borkowski? She was into him deep. He'd even cut his hair and sold his BMW motorcycle. She wasn't about to ride on the back of that thing, so what did he need it for? Yes, Nadine. Anything you say, Nadine.
Chad wasn't polygamous. He was just dumb. Dumb to fall for that domineering, scheming, lowborn, vile, deceitful…
She took a deep breath. So what? She'd lost him, and that was that. Did she still love him? Of course; he was terrifically good-looking and a lot of fun. But someone else had snared him, and Melanie was history. Life goes on.
Yes, she was still in love with him.
Melanie typed at the keyboard, telling the BBS to search for messages with the name McDaniel in the 'To: ' line. A pair popped up, and she keyed in the digits for the first one.
To: Melanie McDaniel
From: Fran DiMiro
Subject: Abortion
The Fundamentalists aren't going to change tactics now. Sure, some recent court decisions have been going their way, but
Melanie squelched the message. Another go-around on the abortion issue. She wasn't in the mood for serious discussion right now. Besides, she didn't know how she felt about the issue any more. For years she had harbored the suspicion, unspoken and even unrealized until very recently, that if she were indeed ever faced with the decision of whether to have an abortion, she wouldn't be able to go through with it. Not because of moral qualms, but general queasiness.
Well, now she was faced with it. She was almost sure she was pregnant with Chad's baby. You don't miss two periods and put it down to the whims of nature. Not if you knew your diaphragm had slipped off on at least one occasion. There was an outside chance that the missed periods were due to something else, but…
An abortion? She just didn't think she could go through with it. Funny how you could intellectually believe in a thing and not be able to accept it emotionally.
Without logging off the system, she left the desk and lay down on the bed to cry quietly for a while.
When she was done she got up and sat back down at the computer. She hoped The Blues weren't returning: her depression. She had suffered with it off and on since her early teens, and had once been prescribed medication for it. Now, what with Chad and the pregnancy, a bad bout of The Blues was a danger.
Drying her eyes, she punched in the other message number.
To: Melanie McDaniel
From: Linda Barclay
Msg
Subject: Boyfriends
Melanie smiled. She liked Linda and had been exchanging messages with her for several months over the private channel of the system. Linda knew everything about Chad and about Chad's straying off to Nadine. Melanie had been very open, spilling everything but the pregnancy. That was still top secret.
The body of Linda's message read:
