t　and

loss；　life　and　death。　There　were　a　dozen　trucks　in　the　loading　bays　out　back；

some　laid　one　over　the　other　like　bad　time　exposures。　In　the　east…wing　ballroom；

a　dozen　different　business　conventions　were　going　on　at　the　same　time　within

temporal　centimeters　of　each　other。　There　was　a　costume　ball　going　on。　There

were　soirees；　wedding　receptions；　birthday　and　anniversary　parties。　Men　talking

about　Neville　Chamberlain　and　the　Archduke　of　Austria。　Music。　Laughter。

Drunkenness。　Hysteria。　Little　love；　not　here；　but　a　steady　undercurrent　of

sensuousness。　And　he　could　almost　hear　all　of　them　together；　drifting　through

the　hotel　and　making　a　graceful　cacophony。　In　the　dining　room　where　he　stood；

breakfast；　lunch；　and　dinner　for　seventy　years　were　all　being　served

simultaneously　just　behind　him。　He　could　almost　。。。　no；　strike　the　almost。　He

could　hear　them；　faintly　as　yet；　but　clearly　—　the　way　one　can　hear　thunder　miles

off　on　a　hot　summer's　day。　He　could　hear　all　of　them；　the　beautiful　strangers。

He　was　being　aware　of　them　as　they　must　have　been　aware　of　him　from　the　very

start。

All　the　rooms　of　the　Overlook　were　occupied　this　morning。

A　full　house。

And　beyond　the　batwings；　a　low　murmur　of　conversation　drifted　and　swirled　like

lazy　cigarette　smoke。　More　sophisticated；　more　private。　Low；　throaty　female

laughter；　the　kind　that　seems　to　vibrate　in　a　fairy　ring　around　the　viscera　and

the　genitals。　The　sound　of　a　cash　register；　its　window　softly　lighted　in　the

warm　halfdark；　ringing　up　the　price　of　a　gin　rickey；　a　Manhattan；　a　depression

bomber；　a　sloe　gin　fizz；　a　zombie。　The　jukebox；　pouring　out　its　drinkers'

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