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'
m