By
Nat Nietzold
a careful forefinger.
"Ah," he groaned, "it's done
for."
called
"Shut up, door,"Perlock
out Lurton
before the door could
even utter a word on his
approach. Then he strode
straight into the door as
though he had expected it
to
open.
He
fell
backwards uttering nasal
moans,
hand
wrapped
around
his
wounded
appendage.
"Master, master," said the
door,
its
eye-stalks
waving about in despair,
"I only did your bidding.
'Shut up, door,’ you said. I
can
but
obey,
most
generous master. Sir," it
added
as
an
afterthought.
"You've
crushed
my
nose," he yelled, but it
came out a little muted.
"It's all gone soft. It moves
in places where it never
used to." He prodded with
Perlock's hand went to
his head and tugged at
the strands of hair spread
sparsely over his scalp.
"Quiet, I meant." He stood
up and forgot his nose for
57