All last week they had Burt going over my experiments and methodological charts. I shouldn't really be annoyed by their precautions.
After all, I'm just a Charlie-come-lately, and it is difficult for Nemur to accept the fact that my work might be beyond him.
He had come to believe in the myth of his own authority, and after all I am an outsider.
I don't really care any more what he thinks, or what any of them think for that matter.
There isn't time. The work is done, the data is in,
and all that remains is to see whether I have accurately projected the curve on the Algernon figures as a prediction of what will happen to me.
Alice cried when I told her the news. Then she ran out.
I've got to impress on her that there is no reason for her to feel guilty about this.
September 2 — Nothing definite yet. I move in a silence of clear white light. Everything around me is waiting.
I dream of being alone on the top of a mountain, surveying the land around me, greens and yellows—
and the sun directly above, pressing my shadow into a tight ball around my legs.
As the sun drops into the afternoon sky, the shadow undrapes itself and stretches out toward the horizon, long and thin, and far behind me....
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