（外文电子版资料）Zelazny, Roger - Doorways In The Sand.docVIP

Doorsways in the Sand Chapter 1 Lying, left hand for a pillow, on the shingled slant of the roof, there in the shade of the gable, staring at the cloud-curdles in afternoons blue pool, I seemed to see, between blinks, above the campus and myself, an instant piece of sky-writing. DO YOU SMELL ME DED? I read. A moments appraisal and it was gone. I shrugged. I also sniffed at the small breeze that had decided but moments before to pass that way. Sorry, I mumbled to the supernatural journalist. No special stinks. I yawned then and stretched. I had been dozing, had regarded the tag end of a dream, I supposed. Probably just as well that I could not recall it. I glanced at my watch. It indicated that I was late for my appointment. But then, it could be wrong. In fact, it usually was. I edged forward into a 45° hunker, my heels still resting against the ice-catching eyelets, my right hand now upon the gable. Five stories below me the Quad was a study in green and concrete, shade and sunlight, people in slow motion, a fountain like a phallus that had taken a charge of buckshot at its farther end. Beyond the phountain lay Jefferson Hall, and up on Jeffs third floor was the office of my latest adviser, Dennis Wexroth. I patted my hip pocket. The edge of my schedule card still jutted there. Good. To go in, go down, go across and go up seemed an awful waste of time when I was already up. Although it was somewhat out of keeping with the grand old tradition as well as my personal practice to do much climbing before sundown, the way across-with all the buildings connected or extremely adjacent-was easy and reasonably inconspicuous. I worked my way about the gable and over to the far eave. About three feet outward and six down, an easy jump, and I was on the librarys flat roof and trotting. Across the roofs and about the chimneys on a row of converted townhouses then. Over the chapel. Quasimodolike-a bit tricky there-along a ledge, down a drainpipe, a