Now and Forever by Ray Bradbury Page B

Small, frowning slightly at his companions, “most benevolent. You will like him, Mr. Jones.”
    And I replied, “I will?”
    Redleigh said, “Get along. We’ll meet again. Go meet your spider roommate. Good luck.”
    I tipped back my glass to take a last swallow. And then I turned, eyes shut, and said to myself, Luck. My God!
    I touched a button beside a door panel that slid open, and I walked along a dimly lit corridor till I came to room number 9. I touched the identity pad and the door glided open wide.
    But wait, I said to myself. I can’t go in. Look at my hands. Great God, they’re shaking.
    I stood there, unmoving. My roommate was inside, I knew. He had come from a far world and was a giant spider, or so they had said. Hell, I thought, step in.
    I took three steps into the room and froze.
    For in the far corner of the cubicle there was a huge shadow. Something was there, but not there.
    â€œIt can’t be,” I whispered to myself. “It simply can’t be.”
    â€œA spider,” something whispered from the far side of the room.
    The large shadow trembled.
    I flinched back into the doorway.
    â€œAnd,” the whisper continued, “a shadow of a spider? No. Stand still.”
    I stood still as commanded and watched as the room was illuminated and the shadow fell away and there before me was a great figure, a creature some seven feet tall and colored the most peculiar shade of green.
    â€œWell,” came the whisper again.
    I replied as steadily as I could. “What can I say?”
    â€œAnything,” came the whisper.
    â€œOnce,” I replied, “I went to see Michelangelo’s David. It was tall. I circled it.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œYou look to be at least as big around as that great work.”
    I moved forward and began to circle the creature, which didn’t move. I was, nevertheless, trembling.
    The shadows continued to melt, and the shape of the creature became more apparent.
    â€œQuell,” came the whisper again. “That is my name. I have come a long way, some ten million miles and five light-years. Here on your world, judging by your size, I’d say your god has just one half-cracked eye awake. On our world, God jumped with a shout of creation, thus our great height.”
    And the creature stood, even taller.
    I stared at the face and said, “You—your mouth hardly moves.”
    The thing named Quell replied, “But my thoughts move as do yours. So,” said the creature, “tell me, Jack, would you slay the giant?”
    â€œI—” I stammered.
    â€œI read the beanstalk in your mind.”
    â€œDamn!” I cried. “Forgive me,” I said. “This is my first meeting with a telepath.”
    â€œLet me save you from damnation,” said my roommate. “Once more, my name is Quell. And yours?”
    â€œYou know my name,” I said. “You read minds.”
    â€œBut out of politeness,” Quell replied, “I pretend otherwise.”
    The great creature reached down with one of his appendages. I put forward my hand, and we touched.
    â€œIshmael Hunnicut Jones,” I said.
    â€œWell,” said Quell. “That name has traveled out of your Bible and into this age of space.”
    â€œWhich is much the way you’ve come,” I said.
    â€œFive light-years off,” said Quell. “I was in deep freeze for five whole years, as cold as death. I slept the time away. It is good to be awake again. Am I not strange?”
    â€œOh, no,” I said.
    â€œOh, yes,” said Quell, with something like a laugh. “If thoughts fly, I catch them. That must be strange to you. And you must also be thinking that I have too many eyes, too many ears, far too many fingers, greenish skin—certainly strange. And yet I look at you and see that you have only two eyes, two tiny ears, five little fingers on each of only two hands. So then we are