Warlock

not man still travel there?
        
        “Man does not even fly his own skies, let alone those of other worlds,” Sandow said.
        
        The specter was quiet a while. Yes, I can see that now. If I focus my attention in on the years ahead, the immediate, future, I can see that man is still struggling to regain civilization. Forgive me for being so stupid; but with all eternity commanding one's attention, the woes of a few thousand years seem as nothing and go unnoticed.
        
        “Please, a request,” Commander Richter interrupted.
        
         That is?
        
        “Can you see our futures? Can you know if we will meet with success?”
        
         Such is not my province. The sweep of it all, you see, is far too massive to make any single man's destiny stand out, even if he should be a king.
        
        “Of course,” Richter said. But he was disappointed. All of them were, for all of them were not above knowing if the gods were on their side or not. Even an atheist would welcome a burning bush which brought him the word that he was Chosen.
        
        Shaker Sandow returned the specter to the subject at hand. “Will man ever return to the stars? Do you see that in the vista of the future?”
        
         Yes. And he will be greater than ever.
        
        “Permit me a moment,” Richter said again. “The sun is all but gone. Let us make camp, Shaker. Then you can speak with your crystal friend all night if such is your desire.”
        
        “It is mine,” the Shaker said. “But is it the desire of our friend?”
        
         I have time. The only way I can ever converse with a single man, in a single mote of history, is if he comes here among the crystals. Now and then, such a diversion is welcomed. The minuscule, after the eternal, can be quite fascinating.
        
        “A backhanded compliment, that one!” Mace said, roaring with laughter, though no one else seemed so amused.
        
        “Come on, you lummox,” Gregor said. “Let's get our things settled, then scoop up our ration of these jewels. Leave the Shaker to his specter.”
        
        “I would think you would be interested in the apparition as fully as the master,” Mace said.
        
        “That I am. But I fear my presence would dull some of the Shaker's enthusiasm. There are times when a man needs to be alone, even when he desires company. The Shaker understands. He will tell me of it later, in detail and with flourishes that will make it even better than it was.”
        
        And so, though the others slept to conserve their energy for the continuation of the trek in the morning, the Shaker spoke to the face in the diamonds-which had settled from overhead until it appeared on the bole of a palm tree on a level with the seated Shaker's face.
        
        And the night passed.
        
        He held the diamond snake, running slim fingers along its super-hard skin, along the light pattern of colors.
        
        And tales were told.
        
        In the morning, as fresh as he had been that night, he ate his breakfast while listening to the faceted face, and when it was time for them to depart, he asked one last question which he had been saving for such a time as this.
        
        “Good friend,” he addressed the specter, “I have been wondering whether your imprisonment has been hell for you, or heaven. And perhaps-perhaps you would wish me to try to help. These constructs-but for the lacy palm leaves and ferns-are quite solid. But perhaps I could smash the image of your body and free you from torment, if such you are in.”
        
         No , the specter replied. If I sound morose, it is not because I am tortured. Indeed, it was a hell at first, a madness of confusion and anguish. Never to know the breasts of a woman, the taste of wine or food… Well, you could see how the mind would rebel at such a future. But with time, wisdom came. A man cannot be eternal, living across all of time, without gaining wisdom. And with that came acceptance, for a wise man knows never to battle that which is ultimately immovable. And with the acceptance, there was a joy of a sort, though it is a joy far different from any human joy - quite indescribable, I am afraid, good Shaker.
        
        “I imagine so,” Sandow said. “Yet I seek knowledge more than all else. I know the joy of which you speak. It