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Jun. 7th, 2009 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walksthebounds"Have you heard of the Flying Dutchman? No? Nor the Wandering Jew? Well, it doesn't matter." He's babbling, he can tell. It's hard getting used to this machine. He clears his throat and tries again. "I'll tell you about them in the right place; and about Helen and Joris, Adam and Konstam, and Vanessa, the sister Adam wanted to sell as a slave. They were all Homeward Bounders like me. And I'll tell about Them too, who made us that way . . ."
It takes a long time to tell it all. Days, maybe. He's tired when he finishes, more tired than he can say, and his throat hurts like anything.
It makes him more maudlin than he means to be.
". . . you see how it works, do you? As long as I don't stay anywhere long, as long as I keep moving and don't think of anywhere as Home, I shall act as an anchor to keep all the wrlds real. And that will keep Them out. Funny kind of anchor that has to keep moving. It's going to go on for such years too. I shall grow old in the end, but it's going to take a long, long time. The more I move, the longer it'll take. So I shall have to move because of that too. I'm going to keep Them out as long as I can.
The bit that I'm going to hate is the first part, when I go and see Helen. Every time I go, she's going to be older than me. There's going to be a time when I shall still be about thirteen, and she'll be an old, old woman. I shall hate that. Still, I promised. And at least I shan't be in any danger of thinking of Helen's world as Home. Nobody could, except Helen.
If you like, you can all think of it as my gift to you. I never had much else to give. You can get on and play your own lives as you like, while I just keep moving. This story of it all can be another gift. I've made an arrangement with Adam. When I've finished, which is almost now, I'm going to put the bundle of papers in the garden of the Old Fort, before I move on. Adam's going to get them and take them to his father. And if you read it and don't believe it's real, so much the better. It will make another safeguard against Them.
But you wouldn't believe how lonely you get."
He doesn't read any of it over, as the machine churns out the last page and falls still. It isn't as if he can change it.
Perhaps he'll take out the last page later. And perhaps he won't. For now, he's got to deliver it.
all text in quotes taken from The Homeward Bounders, by Diana Wynne Jones
It takes a long time to tell it all. Days, maybe. He's tired when he finishes, more tired than he can say, and his throat hurts like anything.
It makes him more maudlin than he means to be.
". . . you see how it works, do you? As long as I don't stay anywhere long, as long as I keep moving and don't think of anywhere as Home, I shall act as an anchor to keep all the wrlds real. And that will keep Them out. Funny kind of anchor that has to keep moving. It's going to go on for such years too. I shall grow old in the end, but it's going to take a long, long time. The more I move, the longer it'll take. So I shall have to move because of that too. I'm going to keep Them out as long as I can.
The bit that I'm going to hate is the first part, when I go and see Helen. Every time I go, she's going to be older than me. There's going to be a time when I shall still be about thirteen, and she'll be an old, old woman. I shall hate that. Still, I promised. And at least I shan't be in any danger of thinking of Helen's world as Home. Nobody could, except Helen.
If you like, you can all think of it as my gift to you. I never had much else to give. You can get on and play your own lives as you like, while I just keep moving. This story of it all can be another gift. I've made an arrangement with Adam. When I've finished, which is almost now, I'm going to put the bundle of papers in the garden of the Old Fort, before I move on. Adam's going to get them and take them to his father. And if you read it and don't believe it's real, so much the better. It will make another safeguard against Them.
But you wouldn't believe how lonely you get."
He doesn't read any of it over, as the machine churns out the last page and falls still. It isn't as if he can change it.
Perhaps he'll take out the last page later. And perhaps he won't. For now, he's got to deliver it.
all text in quotes taken from The Homeward Bounders, by Diana Wynne Jones
