Huddling Place----Clifford D. Simak(26)
He started off and Webster called him back.
"Jenkins, does anyone else know about this? Anyone—"
"No, sir," said Jenkins. "Your father never mentioned it and I felt, somehow, that he wouldn't wish me to."
"Thank you, Jenkins," said Webster.
Webster huddled back into his chair again, feeling desolate and alone and misplaced. Alone in a humming lobby that pulsed with life—a loneliness that tore at him, that left him limp and weak.
Homesickness. Downright, shameful homesickness, he told himself. Something that boys are supposed to feel when they first leave home, when they first go out to meet the world.
There was a fancy word for it—agoraphobia—the morbid dread of being in the midst of open spaces—from the Greek root for the fear—literally, of the market place.
If he crossed the room to the television booth, he could put in a call, talk with his mother or one of the robots—or, better yet, just sit and look at the place until Jenkins came for him.
"Jenkins, does anyone else know about this? Anyone—"
"No, sir," said Jenkins. "Your father never mentioned it and I felt, somehow, that he wouldn't wish me to."
"Thank you, Jenkins," said Webster.
Webster huddled back into his chair again, feeling desolate and alone and misplaced. Alone in a humming lobby that pulsed with life—a loneliness that tore at him, that left him limp and weak.
Homesickness. Downright, shameful homesickness, he told himself. Something that boys are supposed to feel when they first leave home, when they first go out to meet the world.
There was a fancy word for it—agoraphobia—the morbid dread of being in the midst of open spaces—from the Greek root for the fear—literally, of the market place.
If he crossed the room to the television booth, he could put in a call, talk with his mother or one of the robots—or, better yet, just sit and look at the place until Jenkins came for him.
完美世界3d
