WALL OF CRYSTAL, EYE OF NIGHT By ALGIS BUDRYS Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine December 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He was a vendor of dreams, purveying worlds beyond imagination to others. Yet his doom was this: He could not see what he must learn of his own! Soft as the voice of a mourning dove, the telephone sounded at Rufus Sollenar's desk. Sollenar himself was standing fifty paces away, his leonine head cocked, his hands flat in his hip pockets, watching the nighted world through the crystal wall that faced out over Manhattan Island. The window was so high that some of what he saw was dimmed by low clouds hovering over the rivers. Above him were stars; below him the city was traced out in light and brimming with light. A falling star--an interplanetary rocket--streaked down toward Long Island Facility like a scratch across the soot on the doors of Hell. Sollenar's eyes took it in, but he was watching the total scene, not any particular part of it. His eyes were shining. When he heard the telephone, he raised his left hand to his lips. "Yes?" The hand glittered with utilijem rings; the effect was that of an attempt at the sort of copper-binding that was once used to reinforce the ribbing of wooden warships. His personal receptionist's voice moved from the air near his desk to the air near his ear. Seated at the monitor board in her office, wherever in this building her office was, the receptionist told him: "Mr. Ermine says he has an appointment." "No." Sollenar dropped his hand and returned to his panorama. When he had been twenty years younger--managing the modest optical factory that had provided the support of three generations of Sollenars--he had very much wanted to be able to stand in a place like this, and feel as he imagined men felt in such circumstances. But he felt unimaginable, now. To be here was one thing. To have almost lost the right, and regained it at the last moment, was another. Now he knew that not only could he be here today but that tomorrow, and tomorrow, he could still be here. He had won. His gamble had given him EmpaVid--and EmpaVid would give him all. The city was not merely a prize set down before his eyes. It was a dynamic system he had proved he could manipulate. He and the city were one. It buoyed and sustained him; it supported him, here in the air, with stars above and light-thickened mist below. The telephone mourned: "Mr. Ermine states he has a firm appointment."