THE RAG AND BONE MEN
By ALGIS BUDRYS
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine February 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Unfortunate castaway! Marooned
far from home—with nothing to
share his loneliness but humans!
The other one—Charpantier, he called himself—he and I were going back up the hill to the Foundation, carrying our bags, when I happened to remark I didn't think the Veld was sane anymore. (I call myself Maurer.)
Charpantier said nothing for a moment. We kept walking, up the gravel path between the unimaginatively clipped hedges. But he was frowning a little, and after a while he said in an absent way: "Now, how would one determine that?" He looked straight into my eyes, which is something that has always upset me, and challenged: "I don't think one could."
I felt the shock of inadequacy. Words come out of me—perfectly accurate words, I know; but I never know how, and sometimes when asked I forget.