THE MARK OF DEATH　　THE MOUNTAIN LIMITED was clicking slowly over the rails that trail through the highest and wildest land in America-the western slope of the Rockies.　　Speed was cut down as the big special labored toward the highest point on its line-nearly seven thousand feet above sea level.　　Midnight had struck.　　Outside, the gloomy mountains hung over the track; seemed about to close in on it, and wipe out the train and all its passengers.　　Within the club car of the train, only a handful of men remained in the fortable chairs.　　All of these were dozing away, with the exception of one　

　　And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,　　And the dry stone no sound of water. Only　　There is shadow under this red rock,　　(e in under the shadow of this red rock),　　And I will show you something different from either　　Your shadow in the morning striding behind you　　Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;　　I will show you fear in a handful of dust.　　-T. S. ELIOT "The Waste Land"　　　　If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk　　Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents　　Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents...　

To Carolyn Conger"What really interests me is whether God had any choice in the creation of the world."ALBERT EINSTEIN"Deep in the chaotic regime, slight changes in structure almost always cause vast changes in behavior. plex controllable behavior seems precluded."STUART KAUFFMAN"Sequelae are inherently unpredictable."IAN MALCOLMIntroduction:"Extinction at the K-T Boundary"The late twentieth century has witnessed a remarkable growth in scientific interest in the subject of extinction.It is hardly a new subject - Baron Georges Cuvier had first demonstrated that species became extinct back in 1　

　　　　I HAD BEEN making the rounds of the Sacrifice Poles the day we heard my brother had escaped. I already knew something was going to happen; the Factory told me.　　　　At the north end of the island, near the tumbled remains of the slip where the handle of the rusty winch still creaks in an easterly wind, I had two Poles on the far face of the last dune. One of the Poles held a rat head with two dragonflies, the other a seagull and two mice. I was just sticking one of the mouse heads back on when the birds went up into the evening air, kaw-calling and screaming, wheeling over the path through 　

　I found what follows lying on my desk one morning.　As you will see, it appears to be the first-person story of a young woman, evidently beautiful and not unskilled in the arts of love.　According to her story, she appears to have been involved, both perilously and romantically, with the same James Bond whose secret-service exploits I myself have written from time to time.　With the manuscript was a note signed "Vivienne Michel," assuring me that what she had written was purest truth and from the depths of her heart.　I was much interested in this view of James Bond, through the wrong end of the　

　I GO TO STYLES　　THE intense interest aroused in the public by what was known at the time as ``The Styles Case' has now somewhat subsided. Nevertheless, in view of the world-wide notoriety which attended it, I have been asked, both by my friend Poirot and the family themselves, to write an account of the whole story. This, we trust, will effectually silence the sensational rumours which still persist.　I will therefore briefly set down the circumstances which led to my being connected with the affair.　I had been invalided home from the Front; and, after spending some months in a rather depres　

　　William Blake　　　　"Nature does not premeditate; she does not use mathematics; she does not deliberately produce whole patterns, she lets whole patterns produce themselves. Nature does what nature demands; she is beyond blame and responsibility."　　Peter S. StevensPatterns in NatureOne　　Sunday, November 23　　Paradise, Pennsylvania　　3:00 a.m.　　　　The thing Boonie loved most about dumping off Black Bridge was how altogether goddam convenient it was. Take, for example, the traveling time. Even with miniature minefields of ice booby-trapping the backroads of Hellam, he figured ten minutes tops in th　

　　　　I was following Derry Welfram at a prudent fifty paces when he stumbled, fell face down on the wet tarmac and lay still. I stopped, watching, as nearer hands stretched to help him up, and saw the doubt, the apprehension, the shock flower in the opening mouths of the faces around him. The word that formed in consequence in my own brain was violent, of four letters and unexpressed.　　Derry Welfram lay face down, unmoving, while the fourteen runners for the three-thirty race at York stalked closely past him, the damp jockeys looking down and back with muted curiosity, minds on the business ah　

I stood in line, as patient as the other taxpayers, my filled out forms and my cash gripped body in my hand. Cash, money, the old fashioned green folding stuff. A local custom that I intended to make expensive to the local customers. I was scratching under the artificial beard, which itched abominably, when the man before me stepped out of the way and I was at the window. My finger stuck in the glue and I had a job freeing it without pulling the beard off as well."e, e, pass it over," the aging, hatchet-faced, bitter and shrewish female official said, hand extended impatiently."On the contrar　

　　July.　Heat.　In the city, they are synonymous, they are identical, they mean one and the same thing. In the 87th Precinct, they strut the streets with a vengeance, these twin bitches who wear their bleached blond hair and their bright-red lipstick slashes, who sway on glittering rhinestone slippers, who flaunt their saffron silk. Heat and July, they are identical twins who were born to make you suffer.　The air is tangible. You can reach out to touch it. It is sticky and clinging, you can wrap it around you like a viscous overcoat. The asphalt in the gutters has turned to gum, and your heels