Fantasy & Science Fiction, July 1955

JULY

Father (short novel) by PHILIP JOSE FARMER 3

Silent, Upon Two Peaks (verse) by HERMAN W. MUDGETT 62

A Tale of the Thirteenth Floor hy OGDEN NASH 63

Gemini by G. B. STERN 67

The Wind's Will by THOMAS A. MEEHAN 79Walking Aunt Daid hy ZENNA HENDERSON 90"

Recommended Reading (II department)hy ANTHONY BOUCHER 98

Psychotomy by KURD LASSWITZ 102

translated by WILLY LEY

The All-Purpose Ghost Story by CHARLES W. MORTON III

? (Contest story) hy ARTHUR C. CLARKE 114

The Sealman by JOHN MASEFIELD 125

Coming Attractions appears on page IIO

COVER PAINTING BY NICHOLAS SOLOVIOFF

(from Father, by Philip Jose Farmer)

Joseph W. Ferman, PUBLISHER Anthony Boucher, BDITOR

The MagaziM of FanJasy and Science Fiction, Volume 9, No.1, Whole No. 50, July, 1955. Publishedmonthly by Fantasy House, IncA, at 35t a copy. Annual su/umption, 14.00 in U. S. and Possessions; 15.00in all other countries. Publication office, Concord, N. H. General offices, 471 Park Avenue, New York 22,N. Y. Editorial office, 2643 Dana St., Berkeley 4, Calif. Entered as second class mIltter at the Post Offi« t#:Concord, N. H. under the Act of March 3, 1879. Printed in U. S. A. Copyright, 1955, by FanJasy HOUS6Inc. All rights, including translation into other languages, reserved. Submissions must he accompanied bystll11Jped, self-addressed envelopes; the Publisher assumes no responsibilityfor return ofunsolicited manusai,..

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Rememher Father John CIJrmody, the plump, hustling, humorous, shrewdinterplanetary priest of Philip Jose Farmer's Attitudes (F&~F, October,I9JJ)? Here he returns in IJ longer story to face a new and terrihle prohlem, inwhich error on his part can mean death, ph)sical and spiritual, to all thl·passengers and crew of a spaceship . . . and possihly to the Galaxy itself.For no other planet offers such suhtle and tempting dangers as Ahatos, nordoes any other world acknowledge such a ruler as that awe-inspiring heingknown as Father, u'ho may he a superman, a charlatan - or a god.

Fatherby PHILIP JOSE FARMER

THE FIRST MATE OF THE OULL

looked up from the navigation deskand pointed to the magnified figurescast upon the information screenby the spoolmike.

"If this is correct, sir, we're ahundred thousand kilometers fromthe second planet. There are tenplanets in this system. Luckily, oneis inhabitable. The second one."

He paused. Captain Tu lookedcuriously at him, for the man wasvery pale and had ironically accented the luckily.

"Sir, the second planet must beAbatos."

The captain's swarthy skin whitened to match the mate's. His mouthopened as if to form an oath, thenclamped shut. At the same time hisright hand made an abortive gesturetowards his forehead, as if he hadmeant to touch it. His hand dropped.

3

"Very well, Mister Givens. Weshall make an attempt to land.That is all we can do. Stand by forfurther orders."

He turned away so none couldsee his face.

"Abatos, Abatos," he murmured.He licked his dry lips and lockedhis hands behind his back.

Two short buzzes sounded. Mid:..shipman Nkrumah passed his hand·over an activating plate and said,"Bridge," to a plate that spranginto life and color on the wall. Asteward's face appeared.

"Sir, please inform the captainthat Bishop Andre and Father Carmody are waiting for him in cabin7·"

Captain Tu glanced at the bridgeclock and tugged at the silver crucifix that hung from his right ear.Givens, Nkrumah, and Merkalov

4

';watched him intently, though theylooked to one side when their eyesmet his. He smiled grimly whenhe saw their expressions, unlockedhis hands, and straightened his back.It was as if he knew his men weredepending on him to preserve acalm that would radiate confidence

.in' his ability to get them to safety.So, for a half minute, he posedmonolithic in his sky-blue uniformthat had not changed since theTwenty-First Century. Though itwas well known that he felt a littleridiculous when he wore it planet'sidef when he was on his ship hewalked as a man clad in armor. Ifcoats and trousers were archaic andseen only at costume halls or inhistorical stereos or on officers ofinterstellar vessels, they did give asense of apartness and of glamor andhelped enforce discipline. The captain must have felt as if he neededevery bit of confidence and respecthe could must~r. Thus, the consciousstriking of the pose; here was thethoughtful and unnervous skipperwho was so sure of himself that hecould take time to attend to socialdemands.

"Tell the bishop I'll be in to seehim at once," he ordered the midshipman.

He strode from the bridge, passedthrough several corridors, and entered the small lounge. There hepaused in the doorway to look thepassengers over. All except the twopriests were there. None of themas ·yet was aware that the Gull was

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

not merely going through one ofthe many transitions from normalspace to perpe'ndicular space. The·two young lovers, Kate Lejeuneand Pete Masters, were sitting inone corner on a sofa, holding handsand whispering softly and everynow and then giving each otherlooks that ached with suppressedpassion. At the other end of theroom Mrs. Recka sat at a tableplaying double solitaire with theship's doctor, Chandra Blake. Shewas a tall voluptuous blonde whosebeauty was spoiled by an incipientdouble chin and dark halfmoonsunder eyes. The half-empty bottleof bourbon on the table told of theorigin of her dissipated appearance;those who knew something of herpersonal history also knew that itwas responsible for her being on theGull. Separated from her husbandon Wildenwooly, she was goinghome to her parents on the farawayworld of Diveboard on the Galaxy'srim. She'd been given the choice ofhim or the bottle and had preferredthe simpler and more transportableitem. As she was remarking to thedoctor when the captain entered,bourbon never criticized you orcalled you a drunken slut.

Chandra Blake, a short dark manwith prominent cheekbones andlarge brown eyes, sat with a fixedsmile and flickering gaze. He wasvery embarrassed at' her loud conversation but was too polite to leaveher.

Captain Tu touched his cap as he

FATHER

passed the four and smiled at theirgreetings, ignoring Mrs. Recka'sinvitation to sit at her' table. Thenhe went down a long hall andpressed a button by the door ofcabin 7.

It swung open and he strode in, atall stiff gaunt man who looked as ifhe were made of some dark inflexible metal, stopped abruptly, andperformed the seeming miracle ofbending forward. He did so to kissthe bishop's. extended hand, andwith a lack of grace and a reluctancethat took all the meaning out of theact. When he straightened up again,he almost gave the impression ofsighing with relief. It was obviousthat the captain liked to unbend tono man.

He opened his mouth as if to givethem at once the unhappy news,but Father John Carmody pressed adrink into his hand.

"A toast, captain, to a quick tripto Ygdrasil," said Father John in alow gravelly voice. "We enjoy beingaboard, but we've reason for hastein getting to our destination."

"I will drink to your health andHis Excellency's," said Tu in a harshclipped voice. "As for the quicktrip, I'm afraid we'll need a littleprayer. Maybe more than a little."

Father Carmody raised extraordinarily thick and tufted eyebrowsbut said nothing. This act of silencetold much about his inner reactions,for he was a man who must foreverbe talking. He was short and fat,about 40, had heavy jowls, a thick

5

shock of blue-black slightly wavyhair, bright blue and somewhatbulging eyes, a"drooping left eyelid.a wide thick mouth, and a long sparprocket-shaped nose. He quivere~

and shook and bounced with energy-;he must always be on the move l~st

he explode; must be turning hishand to this and that, poking JUsnose here and there, must be laughing and chattering, must give th~

impression of vibrating inside witha great tuning fork.

Bishop Andre, standing besid'ehim, was so tall and still and massivethat he looked like an oak turnedinto a man, with Carmody th.esquirrel that raced around at hisfeet. His superb shoulders and arch:ing chest and lean belly and calvesbursting with muscle told of greatstrength rigidly controlled and keptat a prizefighter's peak. His featuresdid justice to the physique; he had alarge high-cheekboned head toppedby a mane of lion-yellow hair. His'eyes were a glowing golden-green,his nose straight and classical inprofile though too narrow andpinched when seen from the front;his mouth full and red and deeply.indented at the corners. The bishop,like Father John, was the darling ofthe ladies of the diocese of Wilden:-wooly, but for a different reason·..Father John was fun to be around.He made them giggle and laugh and·made even their most serious proh~

lerns seem not insurmountable. ButBishop Andre made them weak...kneed when he looked into their

6

eyes. He was the kind of priest whocaused them regret that he was notavailable for marrying. The worstpart of that was that His Excellencyknew the effect he had and hated it.At times he had been downrightcurt and was always just a littlestandoffish. But no woman couldlong remain offended at him. In...deed, as was well known, the Bishopowed some of his meteoric rise to theefforts of the ladies behind thescenes. Not that he wasn't morethan capable; it was just that he'dattained his rank faster than mighthave been expected.

Father John poured out a drinkfrom a wine bottle, then filled twoglasses with lemonade.

"I shall drink of the vine," hesaid. "You, Captain, will be forcedto gag down this non-alcoholic bev...erage because you are on duty. HisExcellency, however, refuses thecup that cheers, except as a sacra...ment, for reasons of principle. Asfor me, I take a little wine for mystomach's sake."

He patted his large round paunch."Since my belly constitutes so muchof.me, anything I take for it I alsotake for my entire being. Thus, notonly my entrails benefit, but mywhole body glows with good healthand joy and calls for some moretonic. Unfortunately, the bishopsets such an unendurably good ex'"ample for me, I must restrain myselfto this single cup. This, in spite ofthe fact that I am suffering from aperilous toothache and could dull


the pain with an extra glass or two."Smiling, he looked over the rim

of his glass at Tu, who was grinningin spite of his tension, and at thebishop, whose set features and dig...nified bearing made him look like alion deep in thought.

"Ah, forgive me, Your Excellency," said the padre. "I cannothelp feeling that you are most immoderate.in your temperance, but Ishould not have intimated as much.Actually, your asceticism is a modelfor all of us to admire, even if wehaven't the strength of characterto imitate it."

"You are forgiven, John," saidthe Bishop gravely. "But I'd preferthat you confine your raillery - forI cannot help thinking that that iswhat it is - to times when no oneelse is around. It is not good for youto speak in such a .manner beforeothers, who might think you holdyour bishop in some measure ofcontempt."

"Now, God forgive me, I meantno such thing!" cried Carmody. "Asa matter of fact, my levity is directed at myself, because I enjoytoo much the too-good things of thislife, and instead of putting on wisdom and holiness, add another inchto my waistline."

Captain Tu shifted uneasily, thensuppressed his telltale movements.Obviously, this nlention of Godoutside of church walls embarrassedhim. Also, there just was no timeto be chattering about trivial things.

"Let's drink to our good healths,"

FATHER

he said. He gulped his ade. Then,setting the glass on the table withan air of finality as if he wouldnever get a chance to drink again,he said, "The news I have is bad.Our translator engine cut out aboutan hour ago and left us stranded innormal space. The chief says hecan't find a thing wrong with it, yetit won't work. He has no idea ofhow to start it again. He's a thoroughly competent man, and whenhe admits defeat, the problem isunsolvable. "

-- There was silence for a minute.Then Father John said, "How closeare we to an inhabitable planet?"

"About a hundred thousand kilometers," replied Tu, tugging at thesilver crucifix hanging from his ear.Abruptly realizing that he was betraying his anxiety, he let his handfall to his side.

The padre shrugged his shoulders."We're not in free fall, so there'snothing wrong with our interplanetary drive. Why can't we set downon this planet?"

"We're going to try to. But I'mnot confident of our success. Theplanet is Abatos."

Carmody whistled and strokedthe side of his long nose. Andre'sbronzed face paled.

The little priest set down hisglass and made a moue of concern.

"That is bad." He looked at thebishop. "May I tell the captain whywe're so concerned about getting toYgdrasil in a hurry?"

Andre nodded, his eyes downcast

7

as if he were thinking. of somethingthat concerned the other two not atall.

"His Excellency," said airmody,"left Wildenwooly for Ygdrasil because he thought he was sufferingfrom hermit fever." .. -

The captain flinched but did notstep back from his position .close tothe bishop. Carmody smiled andsaid, "You needn't worry aboutcatching it. He doesn't have. it.Some of his symptoms matchedthose of hermit fever, but an examination failed to disclose anymicrobes. Not only that, His E~

cellency didn't develop a typicalanti-social behavior. But the doctors decided he should go to Ygdrasil,where they have better facilitiesthan those on Wildenwooly, whichis still rather primitive, you know.Also, there's a Doctor Reudenbachthere, a specialist in epileptoid diseases. It was thought best to seehim, as His Excellency's' conditionwas not improving."

Tu held out his palms in a gestureof helplessness.

"Believe me, Your Excellency,this news saddens me and makesme regret even more this accident.But there is nothing . . ."

Andre came out of his reverie.For the first time, he smiled, a slow,warm, and handsome smile. "Whatare my troubles compared to yours?You have the responsibility of thisvessel and its expensive cargo. And,far more important, the welfare oft\venty-five souls."

8

He began pacing back and forth,speaking in his vibrant voice.

"We've all heard of Abatos. Weknow what it may mean if the translator doesn't begin working again.Or if we meet the same fate as thoseother ships that tried to land on it.We are about eight light years fromYgdrasil and six from Wildenwooly,which means we can't get to eitherplace in normal drive. We either getthe translator started or else land.Or remain in space until we die."

"And even if we are allowed tomake planetfall," said Tu, "we maysp~nd the rest of our lives onAbatos."

A moment later, he left the cabin.He was halted by Carmody, whohad slipped out after him.

"When are you going to tell theother passengers?"

Tu looked at his watch."In two hours. By then \\Te'll

know whether or not Abatos willlet us pass. I can't put off tellingthem any longer, because they'llkno,v something's up. We shouldhave been falling to Ygdrasil by

"now."The bishop is praying for us all

now," said Carmody. "I shall concentrate my own request on an inspiration for the engineer. He's going to need it."

"There's nothing wrong with thattranslator," said Tu flatly, "exceptthat it won't work."

Carmody looked shrewdly at himfrom under his thatched eyebrowsand stroked the side of his nose.


"You think it's not an accidentthat .the engine cut out?"

"I've been in many tough spotsbefore," replied Tu, "and I've beenscared. Yes, scared. 1 wouldn't tellany man except you - or maybesome other priest - but I have beenfrightened. Oh, I know it's a ,veakness, maybe even a sin ..."

Here Carmody raised his eyebrows in amazement and perhaps alittle awe of such an attitude.

" ... but I just couldn't seem tohelp it, though I swore that I'dnever again feel that way, and 1never allowed anyone to see it. Mywife always said that if I'd allowmyself now and then to sho,v a little,veakness, not much, just a little... Well, perhaps that may havebeen why she left me, I don't know,and it doesn't really matter anymore, except ..."

Suddenly realizing that he waswandering, the captain stopped,visibly braced himself, squared hisshoulders, and said, "Any,vay, Father, this set-up scares me worsethan- I've ever been scared. Why,I couldn't exactly tell you. But I'vea feeling that Something causedthat cut-out and for a purpose wewon't like when we find out. AllI have to base my reasoning on iswhat's happened to those otherthree ships. You kno,v, everybody'sread about them, how the Hoylelanded and was never heard ofagain, how the Priam investigatedits disappearance and couldn't getany closer than fifty kilometers be-

FATHER

cause her normal space drive failed,and how the cruiser Tokyo tried tobull its way in with "its drive deadand only escaped because it hadenough velocity to take it past thefifty kilo limit. Even so, it almostburned up when it was goingthrough the stratosphere."

"What I can't understand," saidCarmody, "is how such an agentcould affect us while we're in translation. Theoretically, we don't evenexist in normal space then."

Tu tugged at the crucifix. "Yes, Iknow. But we're here. Whateverdid this has a power unknown toman. Otherwise It wouldn't be ableto pinpoint us in translation soclose to Its home planet."

Carmody smiled cheerfully."What's there to worry about? Ifit can haul us in like fish in a net, itmust want us to land. So we don'thave to fret about planetfall."

Suddenly, he grimaced with pain."This perilous rotten molar ofmine," he explained. "I ,vas goingto have it pulled and a bud put inwhen I got to Ygdrasil. And I'dsworn to quit eating so much of thatchocolate of which I'm perilouslyoverfond and which has alreadycost me the loss of several teeth. Andnow I must pay for my sins, for Iwas in such a hurry I forgot to bringalong any painkiller, except for thewine. Or was that a Freudian slip?"

"Doctor Blake will have painpills."

Carmody laughed. "So he does!Another convenient oversight! I'd

9

hoped to confine myself to thenatural medicine of the grape, andignore the tasteless and enervatinglaboratory-born nostrums. But Ihave too many people looking outfor my welfare. Well, such is theprice of popularity."

He slapped Tu on the shoulder."There's adventure awaiting us,Bill. Let's get going."

The captain did not seem to re'"sent the familiarity. Evidently, he'dknown Carmody for a long time.

"I wish I had your courage,Father."

"Courage!" snorted the priest."I'm shaking in my hair shirt. Butwe must take what God sends us,and if we can like it, all the better."

Tu allowed himself to smile. "Ilike you because you can say some...thing like that without soundingfalse or unctuous or - uh priestly. I know you mean it."

"You're blessed well right I do,"answered Carmody, then shiftedfrom cheeriness to a more gravetone. "Seriously, though, Bill, I dohope we can get going soon. Thebishop is in a bad way. He lookshealthy, but he's liable at any rna"ment to have an attack. If he does,I'll be pretty busy with him for awhile. I can't tell you much moreabout him because he wouldn'twant me to. Like you, he hates toconfess to any weakness; he'll proba..bly reprimand me when I go backto the cabin for having mentionedthe matter to you. That's, one reason why he has said nothing to Doc-

10

tor Blake. When he has one of his... spells, he doesn't like anyone·but me to take care of him. And heresents that little bit of dependency."

"It's pretty bad, then? Hard tobelieve. He's such a healthy-lookingman; you wouldn't want to tanglewith him in a scrap. He's a goodman, too~ Righteous as they makethem. I remember one sermon hegave us at St. Pius' on Lazy Fair.Gave us hell and scared me intoliving a clean life for all of threeweeks. The saints themselves musthave thought they'd have to moveover for me, and then ..."

Seeing the look in Carmody'seyes, Tu stopped, glanced at hiswatch, and said, "Well, I've a fewminutes to spare, and I've not beendoing as well as I might, though Isuppose we all could say that, eh,Father? Could we step into yourcabin? There's no telling whatmight happen in the next fewhours, and I'd like to he prepared."

"Certainly. Follow me, my son."

II

Two hours later, Captain Tu hadtold crew and passengers the truthover the bridge-viser. When hisvoice died and his grim gaunt facefaded off the screen in the lounge,he left behind him silence andstricken looks. All except Carmodysat in their chairs as.if the captain'svoice had been an arrow pinningthem to the cushions. Carmodystood in the center of the .lounge, a


soberly clad little figure. in themidst of their bright clothes. Hewore no rings on his ears, his legswere painted a decent black, hispuffkilts were only moderatelyslashed, and his quilted dickie andsuspenders were severe, innocent ofgolden spangles or jewels. Like allmembers of the Jairusite Order, hewore his Roman collar only whenon planetside in memory of thefounder and his peculiar but justified reason for doing so.

He shrewdly watched the passengers. Rocking back and forth onhis heels, his forefinger tracing thelength of his nose, he seemed to beinterested in the announcementonly from the viewpoint of how itwas affecting them. There was nosign that he was concerned abouthimself.

Mrs. Recka was still sitting beforeher cards, her head bent to studythem. But her hand went out moreoften to the bottle, and once sheupset it with a noise that madeBlake and the two young loversjump. Without bothering to get upfrom her chair, she allowed thefifth to spill on the floor while sherung for the steward. Perhaps thesignificance of the captain's wordshad not penetrated the haze in herbrain. Or perhaps she just did notcare.

Pete Masters and Kate Lejeunehad not moved or spoken a word.They huddled closer, if that werepossible, and squeezed hands evenmore tightly - pale-faced, their

PAmER

heads nodded like two white bal..loons shaken by an internal wind,Kate's red painted mouth vividagainst her bloodless skin, hangingopen like a gash in the sphere andby some miracle keeping the airinside her so her head did notcollapse.

Carmody looked at them withpity, for he knew their story farbetter than they realized. Kate wasthe daughter of a rich "pelterpiper"on Wildenwooly. Pete was the sonof a penniless "tinwoodman," Olleof those armored lumberjacks whoventure deep into the planet's pe'"culiarly dangerous forests in searchof wishing-wood trees. After hisfather had been dragged into anunderwater cavern by a snoligoster,Pete had gone to work for OldMan Lejeune. That he had couragewas quickly proved, for it tookguts to pipe the luxuriously furredbut savage-tempered agropelters outof their hollow trees and conductthem into the hands of the skinners.That he was also foolhardy w~s almost as swiftly demonstrated, forhe had fallen as passionately in lovewith Kate as she had with him.

When he had summoned upenough bravery to ask her father forher hand - Old Man Lejeune wasas vicious and quickly angered asan agropelter itself and not to becharmed by any blowing on a pipe- he had been thrown out bodilywith several bruises and contusions,a slight brain concussion, and apromise that if he got within speak...

II

ing distance of her again he wouldlose both life and limb. Then hadfollowed the old and inevitablestory. After getting out of the hospital, Pete had sent Kate messagesthrough her widowed aunt. Theaunt disliked her brother and wasmoreover such an intense devotee ofthe stereo romance-serials that she'would have done almost anythingto smooth the path of true love.

Thus it was that a copter hadsuddenly dropped onto the portoutside Breakneck just before theGull was to take off. After identifying themselves and purchasing tickets - which was all they had to doto get passage, for there were novisas or passports for human beingswho wanted transportation betweenplanets of the Commonwealththey had entered. cabin 9, next tothe bishop's, and there stayed untiljust before the translator had brokendown.

Kate's aunt had been too proudof her part as Cupid to keep hermouth shut. She'd told a half adozen friends in Breakneck, aftergetting their solemn promises not totell anyone. Result: Father Car'"mody had all the facts and some ofthe lies about the Masters-Lejeuneaffair. When the couple had slippedaboard, he'd known at once whathad happened and indeed was wait...ing for the outraged father to followthem with a band of tough skinnersto take care 9f Pete. But the shiphad flashed away, and now there waslittle chance they'd be met at

12

Ygdrasil port with an order for thecouple's detentio~. They'd be luckyif they ever arrived there.

Carmody walked to a spot beforethem and halted. "Don't be frightened, kids," he said. "The captain'sprivate opinion is that we won'thave any trouble landing onAbatos."

Pete Masters was a redhairedhawk-nosed youth with hollowcheeks and a too large chin. Hisframe was large but he'd not yetfilled out with a man's muscles norgotten over the slouch of the adolescent who grows too fast. He covered the delicate long-fingered handof Kate with his big bony hand andsaid, glaring up at the priest, "And Isuppose he'll turn us over to theauthorities as soon as we land?"

Carmody blinked at the brassinessof Pete's voice and leaned slightlyforward as if he were walking againstthe wind of it.

"Hardly," he said softly. "Ifthere's an authority on Abatos, wehaven't met him yet. But we may,we may."

He paused and looked at Kate.She was pretty and petite. Her longwheaten hair was caught up inback with a silver circlet; her largeviolet eyes turned up to meet hiswith a mixture of guilelessness andpleading.

"Actually," said the padre, "yourfather can't do a thing -legally~to stop you two unless you commita crime. Let me see, you're nineteen,aren't you, Pete? And you, Kate,


are only seventeen, right? If I remember the clauses in the Free WillAct, your being under age will nothamper your moving away fromyour father~s house without his permission. You're of mobile age. Onthe other hand, according to law,you're not of nubile age. Biology,I know, contradicts that, but wealso live in a social world, one ofmanmade laws. You may not getmarried without your father's can'"sent. If you try to do so, he maylegally restrain you. And will, nodoubt."

"He can't do a thing," said Pete,fiercely. "We're not going to getmarried until Kate is of age."

He glared from under strawcolored eyebrows. Kate's palenessdisappeared under a flood of red,and she looked down at her slimlegs, painted canary yellow withscarlet-tipped toenails. Her freehand plucked at her Kelly-greenpuffkilts.

Carmody's smile remained."Forgive a nosy priest who is in

terested because he doesn't want tosee you hurt. Or to have you hurtanybody. But I know your father,Kate. I know he's quite capable ofcarrying out his threat against Pete.Would you want to see him kid...naped, brutally beaten up, perhapskilled?"

She raised her large eyes to him,her cheeks still flaming. She wasvery beautiful, very young, veryintense.

"Daddy wouldn't dare f" she said

FArnER

in a low but passionate voice. "Heknows that if anything happens toPete, I'll kill myself. I said so in thenote I left him, and he knows I'mjust as stubborn as he. Daddy won'thurt Pete because he loves me toomuch."

"Just don't bother talking to him,honey," said Pete. "I'll handle this.Carmody, we don't want any inter..ference, well meant or not. We justwant to be left alone."

Father John sighed. "To be leftalone is little enough to desire.Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, it's one of the rarest thingsin this universe, almost as rare aspeace of mind or genuine love formankind."

"Spare me your cliches," saidPete. "Save them for church.". "Ah, yes, I did see you once atSt. Mary's, didn't I?" replied Father John, stroking the side of hisnose. "Two years ago during thatoutbreak of hermit fever. Hmm."

Kate put her hand on the youngman's wrist. "Please~ darling. Hemeans well, and what he says is true,anyway."

"Thank you, Kate."Carmody hesitated, then, looking

thoughtful and sad, he reached intothe puffkilt's pocket and pulled outa slip of yellow paper. He held itout to Kate, who took it with atrembling hand.

"This was given to the stewardjust before our ship took off," hesaid. "It was too late then for anything to be done; unless it's a matter

13

of supreme importance, the ship'sschedule is adhered to."

Kate read the message and paledagain. Pete, reading over her shoulder, became red, and his nostrilsflared. Tearing the paper from her,he jumped up.

"If Old Man Lejeune thinks hecan jail me by accusing me of-steal..ing his ~oney, he's crazy!" hesnarled. "He can't prove it because Ididn't do it! I'm innocent, and I'llprove it by volunteering for chalarocheil! Or any truth drug theywant to give me! That'll show himup for the liar he is!"

Father John's eyes widened."Meanwhile, you two will be held,and Kate's father will take steps toget.her back or at least remove herto the other end of the Galaxy.Now, I'd like to suggest ..."

"Never mind your needlenosingsuggestions," barked Pete.

He crumpled the paper anddropped it on the floor. "Come on,Kate, let's go to our cabin."

Submissively, she rose, though sheshot a look at Pete as if she'd like toexpress her opinion. He ignored it.

"Do you know," he continued,"I'm glad we're being forced toland on Abatos. From what I'veread, the Tokyo determined that it'sa habitable planet, perhaps anotherEden. So Kate and I ought to beable to live fairly easy on it. I'vegot my Powerkit in my cabin; withit we can build a cabin and till thesoil and hunt and fish and raise ourchildren as we wish. And there'll be

14

no interference from anyone - noone at all."

Father John cocked rus head toone side and let his left eyelid droop."Adam and Eve, heh? Won't youtwo become rather lonely? Besides,how do you know what dangersAbatos holds?"

"Pete and I need nobody else,"replied Kate quietly. "And we'renot afraid of anything at all."

"Except your father. "But the two were walking away.

hand in hand; they might not haveheard him.

He leaned over to pick up thepaper, grunting as he did so. Straightening up with a sigh, he smoothed itout and read it.

Doctor Blake rose from the tableand approached him. He smiledwith a mixture of affability andreproach.

"Aren't you being a little bit tooofficious?"

Carmody smiled. "You've knownme for a long time, Chandra. Youknow that this long sharp nose ofmine is an excellent sign of mycharacter, and that I would not putmy hand in the flame to deny thatI am a needlenosing busybody.However, my excuse is that I am apriest and that that is a professionalattribute'. No escaping it. Moreover,I happen to be interested in thosekids; I want them to get out of thismess without being hurt."

"You're likely to get the shape ofyour nose changed. That Pete lookswild enough to swing on you."


Father John rubbed the end of hisnose. "Won't be the first time it'sbeen busted. But I doubt if. Pete'dhit me. One good thing about popping off if you're a priest. Even theroughest hesitate about hitting you.Almost like striking a woman. OrGod's representative. Or both. Wecowards sometimes take advantageof that."

Blake snorted. "Coward?" Then,"Kate's not even of your religion,Father, and Pete might as well notb "e.

Carmody shrugged and spreadhis palms out as if to show that hishands were for anybody who neededthem. A few minutes later, he waspressing the buzzer by the bishop'sdoor. When he heard no answeringvoice, he turned as if to go, thenstopped, fro'Yning. Abruptly, as ifobeying an inner warning, he pushedin on the door. Unlocked, it swungopen. He gasped and ran into theroom.

The bishop was lying face up onthe middle of the floor, his arms andlegs extended crucifix-wise, his backarched to form a bow, his eyes openand fixed in a stare at a painton theceiling. His face was flushed andglistening with sweat; his breathhissed; bubbles of foam escapedfrom his lax mouth. Yet there wasnothing of the classic seizure abouthim, for the upper part of his bodyseemed to be immobile, almost as ifit were formed of wax just on theverge of melting from some internalheat. The lower part, on the con-

FATHER

trary, was in violent movement. Hislegs thrashed, and his pelvis stabbedupwards. He looked as if a swordhad cut an invisible path throughthe region of his abdomen andsevered the nerves and muscles thatconnected the two halves. Thetrunk had cast off the hips and legsand said, "What you do is no can'"cern of mine."

Carmody closed the door andhastened to do that which neededdoing for the bishop.

III

The Gull chose to settle upon aspot in the center of the only continent of Abatos, a globe-encirclingmass large as Africa and Asia put to'"gether, all of it in the northernhemisphere.

"Best landing I ever made," saidTu to his first mate. "Almost as ifI were a machine, I set her down" soeasy." Aside, he muttered, "PerhapsI've saved the best for the last."

Carmody did not come from thebishop's cabin until twenty-fourhours later. After telling the doctorand the captain that Andre wasresting quietly and did not wish tobe disturbed, Carmody asked whatthey'd found out so far. Obviously,he'd been eaten up with curiositywhile locked in the cabin, for he-had a hundred questions ready andcould not fire them out fast enough.

They could tell him little, thoughtheir explorations had covered muchterritory. The climate seemed to beabout what you'd find in midwest

15

America in May. The vegetationand animal life paralleled those ofEarth, but of course there weremany unfamiliar species.

"Here's something strange," saidDoctor Blake. He picked up severalthin disks, cross-sections of trees,and handed them to the priest."Pete Masters cut these with his"Powerkit. Apparently, he's beenlooking for the best kind of woodwith which to build a cabin - ormaybe I should say a mansion; hehas some rather grandiose ideasabout ,vhat he's 'going to do here.Notice the grain and the distanc'ebetween the rings. Perfect grain.And the rings are separated byexactly the same length. Also, noknots or worm holes of a.ny kind.

"Pete pointed out these interest...ing facts, so we cut down about fortytrees of different types with theship's Survival Kit saw. And allspecimens showed the same perfec...tion. Not only that, but the numberof rings, plus the Mead method ofphotostatic dating, proved thatevery tree was exactly the same age.All had been planted ten thousandyears ago!"

"The only comment I could make\vould be an understatement," saidCarmody. "Hmmm. The eve!! spac'"ing of the growth rings would indi...cate that the seasons, if any, followa regular pattern, that there havebeen no irregular stretches of wet...ness and dryness but a static allot..ment of rain and sunshine. Butthese woods are wild and untended.

16

How account for the lack of damagefrom parasites? Perhaps there arenone."

"Don't know. Not only that, thefrui t of these trees is very large andtasty and abundant - all looking asif they'd come from stock carehIllybred and protected. Yet we've seenno signs of intelligent life."

Blake's black eyes sparkled, andhis hands seesawed with excitement.

"We took the liberty of shootingseveral animals so we could examinethem. I did a fast dissection on asmall zebra-like creature, a wolfwith a long copper-colored snout, ayellow red-crested corvine, and akangarooish non-marsupial. Evenmy hasty study turned up severalastonishing facts, though one ofthem could have been determinedby any layman."

He paused, then burst out, "Allwere females! And the dating oftheir bones indicated that they,like the trees, were ten thousandyears old I"

Father John's tufted eyebrowscould rise no higher; they looked,like untidy wings flapping heavilywith a freight of amazement.

"Yes, we've detected no males atall among any of the millions ofbeasts that we've seen. Not a one.All, all females.!"

He took Carmody's elbow andescorted him towards the woods.

"Ten thousand years old theskeletons were. But that wasn't allthat was marvelous about them.Their bones w~re completely inno-


cent of evolutionary vestiges, wereperfec tly func tiona!. Carmody,you're an amateur paleontologist,you should know how unique thatis. On every planet where we'vestudied fossil and contemporaryskeletons, we've found that theydisplay tag-ends of bones that havedegenerated in structure because ofloss of function. Consider the toesof a dog, the hooves of a horse. Thedog, you might say, walks on hisfingers and has lost his big toe andreduced his thumb to a small size.The horse's splint bones were oncetwo toes, the hoof representing themain toe that hardened and onwhich the fossil horse put his mainweight. But this zebra had no splintbones, and the wolf showed novestiges of toes that had lost theirfunction. The same with the othercreatures I studied. Functionallyperfect."

"But, but," said Father John,"you know that evolution on otherplanets doesn't follow exactly thesame pattern laid down on Earth.Moreover, the similarity between aterrestrial and a non-terrestrial typemay be misleading. As a matter offact, likenesses between Earth typesmay be deceiving. Look how theisolated Australian marsupials developed parallels to placen tals.Though not at all related to the·higher mammals of the other continen ts, they evolved dog-like,mouse-like, mole-like, and bear-likecreatures."

"I'm quite aware of that," re-

FATHER

plied Blake, a little stiffly. "I'm noignoramus, you know. There areother factors determining my opin..ion, but you talk so much you'vegiven me no chance to tell you."

Carmody had to laugh. "I? Talk?I've hardly gotten in a word. Nevermind. I apologize for my gabbiness.What else is there?H

"Well, I had some of the crew..men do some looking around. Theybrought in hundreds of specimens ofinsects, and of course I'd no timefor anything except a hasty glance.But there were none with any correspondence to larval forms as weknow them on Earth. All adultforms. When I, thought of that, Irealized something else we'd all seenbut hadn't been impressed by,mostly, I suppose, because the de..ductions were too overwhelming orbecause we just weren't looking forsuch a thing. We saw no youngamong the animals."

"Puzzling, if not frightening,"said Carmody. "You may release myelbow, if you wish. I'll go with youwillingly. Which reminds me, whereare you taking me?"

"Here !"Blake stopped before a redwood

ish tree towering perhaps two hundred feet. He indicated a very largehole in the trunk, about two feetfrom the ground. "This cavity wasnot the result of disease or damageby some animal. It obviously is partof the tree's structure."

He directed the beam of a flash..light into the dark interior. Car-

17'

mody stuck his head into the holeand after a moment withdrew it,looking thoughtful.,

"There must be about ten tonsof that jelly-like substance inside/'he said. "And there are bones embedded deep within it."

"Wherever you go, you find thesejelly trees, as we now call. them,"said Blake. "About half' of th~m

hold animal skeletons.""What are they? A sort of Venus

ian fly-trap?" asked the priest, in'voluntarily taking a backward step."1'10, they couldn't be that, oryou'd not have allowed me to stickmy head in. Or does it, like manymen, find theological subjects distasteful?"

Blake laughed, 'then soberedquickly. ,

"I've no idea why these bones arethere nor what purpose the jellyserves," he said. "But I can tell youhow they got there. You see, whilewe were flying around, mapping andobserving, we witnessed several kill..ings by the local carnivora. The~e

are two types we were glad wedidn't run into on the ground,though we've means to repel them ifwe see them soon enough. One's acat about the size of a Bengal tiger,leopard-like except for big roundears and tufts of gray fur on thebacks of its legs. The other's a tenfoot-high black-furred mammalbuilt like a tyrannosaurus with abear's head. Both prey on thezebras and the numerous deer andantelope. You'd think that their

18

fleet-footed prey would keep thekillers swift and trim, but theydon't. The big cats and the struthiursines are the fattest and laziestmeat-eaters you ever saw. Whenthey attack, they don't sneak upthrough the grass and then make aswift but short run. Thev walkboldly into view, roar a fe~ times,wait until the majority of the herdhave dashed off,' then select onefrom the several submissive animalsthat have refused to flee, and kill it.Those· that have been spared thendrift off. They're not frightened bythe sight of the killer devouringone of their sisters. No, they justappear uneasy.

"As if that weren't extraordinaryenough, the sequel positively astounds you. After the big killer hasgorged himself and leaves, the smallcarrion~eaters then descend, yellow..ish crows and brown-and~white

foxes. The bones are well cleaned.But they aren't left to bleach in thesun. Along comes a black ape with along lugubrious face - the undertaker ape, we call him - and hepicks the bones up and depositsthem in the jelly inside the nearestjelly tree. Now, what do you thinkof that?". "I think that, though it's a warm

day, I have a sudden chill. I ...oh, there's His Excellency. Excuseme."

The priest hurried across thedaisy-starred meadow, a long blackcase in his hand. The bishop didnot wait for him but stepped from


the shadow of the ship into the. light. Though the yellow sun had

risen only an hour ago above thepurplish mountains to the east, it\vas very bright. When it struck thebishop's figure, it seemed to burstinto flame around him and magnifyhim, almost as if its touch were thatof a golden god imparting some ofhis own magnificence to him. Theillusion was made all the stronger bythe fact that Andre showed no signsof his recent illness. His face glowed,and he strode swiftly towards thecrowd at the forest's edge, his shoulders squared and his deep chestrising and falling as if he were tryingto crowd all the planet's air into hislungs.

Carmody, who met him halfway,said, "You may well breathe thissuperb air, Your Excellency. It hasa tang and freshness that is quitevirginal. Air that has never beenbreathed by man before."

Andre looked about him with theslowness and sure majesty of a lionstaking out a new hunting territory.Carmody smiled slightly. Thoughthe bishop made a noble figure of aman, he gave at that moment justthe hint of a poseur, so subtle thatonly one with Carmody's vast experience could have detected it.Andre, catching the fleeting inden~

tations at the corners of the littlepriest's lips, frowned and raised hishands in protest.

"I know what you are thinking."Carmody bent his neck to gaze at

the bright green grass at their feet.

FATHER

Whether he did so to acknowledgethat the reprimand was just or tohide another emotion, he managedto veil his eyes. Then, as if realizingit was not good to conceal histhoughts, he raised his head to lookhis bishop in the eyes. His gesturewas similar to Andre's and had dig..oity but none of the other man'sbeauty, for Carmody could neverlook beautiful, except with the moresubtle beauty that springs fromhonesty.

"I hope you can forgive me,Your Excellency. But old habits diehard. Mockery was so long a partof me before I was convertedindeed, was a necessity if one was tosurvive on the planet where I lived,which was Dante's Joy, you knowthat it dug deep into my nervoussystem. I believe that I am making asincere effort to overcome the habit;but, being human, I am sometimeslax."

"We must strive to be more thanhuman/' replied Andre, making agesture with his hand which thepriest, who knew him .well, inter..preted as a sign to drop the subject.It was not peremptory, for he wasalmost always courteous and patient.His time was not his; the lowliest\vere his masters. Had he seen thatCarmody was persistent in dwellingon that line of thought, he wouldhave allowed it. The priest, how..e~7r, accepted his superior's de..ClSlon.

He held out a slender black casesix feet long.

19

"I thought that perhaps YourExcellency would like to try thefishing here. It may be true thatWildenwooly has a Galaxy..widereputation for the best fishing anywhere, but there's something aboutthe very looks of Abatos that tellsme we'll find fish here to put a glowin our hearts - not to mention, awhale of an appetite in our mouths.Would you care to try a few casts?It might benefit Your Excellency?"

Andre's smile was slow and gentle,ending in a huge grin of delight."I'd like that very much, John.You could have suggested nothingbetter."

He turned to Tu. "Captain?""I think it'll be safe. We've sent

out survey copters. They reportedsome large carnivores but. noneclose. However, some of the herbivores may be dangerous. Remember, even a domestic bull may be akiller. The copter c~ews did try toget some of the larger beasts tocharge and faited. The animals eitherignored them.or ambled away. Yes,you may go fishing, though I wishthe lake weren't so far off. Whatabout a copter dropping you offthere and picking you up later?"

Andre said, "No,. thank you. Wecan't get the feel of this planet byflying over it. We'll walk."

The first mate held out two pistols of some sort.

"Here you are, Reverends. Something new. Sonos. Shoots a subsonicbeam that panics man or beast,makes 'em want to get- to hell and

20

away as fast as they can, if you'llpardon the expression."

"Of course. But we can't acceptthem. Our order is never permittedto carry arms, for any reason."

"I wish you'd break the rule thistime," said Tu. "Rules aren't madeto be broken; no captain wouldsu~scribe to that proverb. But therea.re times when you have to consider their context."

"Absolutely not," replied thebishop, looking keenly at Carmody,who'd stretched out his hand as if totake a sono.

At. the glance, the priest droppedhis hand. "I merely wished to ex"amine the weapon," said Carmody."But I must admit I've neverthought much of that rule. It's truethat Jairus had his peculiar powerover beasts of prey. However, thatfact didn't necessarily endow hisdisciples with a similar gift. Thinkof what happened on Jimdandy because St. Victor refused a gun. Hadhe used one, he'd have saved athousand lives."

The bishop clo~ed his eyes andmurmured so that only Carmodycould hear, "Even though I walk in'the dark valley . .•"

carmody murmured back, "Butthe dark is sometimes cold, and thehairs on the back of the neck rise,vith fear, though I become hotwith shame."

"Hmm. Speaking of shame, John,you always manage, somehow, whiledeprecating yourself, to leave mediscomfited and belittled. It's a


talent which, perhaps, should pepossessed by the man who is mostoften with me, for it cuts down myinclination to grow proud. On theother hand . . ." .

Carmody waved the long case inhis hand. "On the other hand, thefish may not wait for us."

Andre nodded and began walkingtowards the woods. Tu said something to a crewman, who ran afterthe two priests and gave the littleone a shipfinder, a compass thatwould always point in the Gull'sdirection. Carmody flashed a grinof thanks and, shoulders set jauntily, bounced after the swiftly striding bishop, the case whipping behind him like a saucy an~enna. Hewhistled an old old tune - "MyBuddy." Though seemingly care"free, his eyes looked everywhere.He did not fail to see Pete Mastersand Kate Lejeune slipping hand inhand into the woods in anotherdirection. He stopped in time tokeep from bumping into the bishop,who had turned and was frowningback towards the ship. At firstCarmody thought he, too, had noticed the young couple, then sawhe was gazing at Mrs. Recka andFirst Mate Givens. They werestanding to one side and talkingvery intensely. Then they beganwalking slowly across the meadowtowards the towering hemisphereof the Gull. Andre stood motionlessuntil the couple went into the shipand, a moment later, came out. Thistime Mrs. Recka had her pocket..

FATHER

book, a rather large one whose sizewas not enough to conceal the out...lines of a bottle within. Still talking,the two went around the curve ofthe vessel and presently came intosight of the priests again, thoughthey could not be seen by Tu or thecrew members.

Carmody murmured, "Must besomething in the air of thisplanet ..."

'·What do you mean by that?"said the bishop, his features set verygrim, his green eyes narrowed butblazing.

"If this is another Eden, wherethe lion lies down with the lamb,it is also a place where a man andwoman ..."

"If Abatos is fresh and clean andinnocent," growled the bishop, '<itwill not remain so very long. Notwhile we have people like those,who would foul any nest."

"Well, you and I will have tocontent ourselves with fishing."

"Carmody, don't grin when yousay that! You sound almost as ifyou were blessing them instead ofcondemning!"

The little priest lost his halfsmile. "Hardly. I was neither condemning nor blessing. Nor judgingthem beforehand, for I don't actually know what they have inmind. But it is true that I have toowide a streak of the earth earthy, adabble of Rabelais, perhaps. It's notthat I commend. It's just that Iunderstand too well, and . . ."

Without replying, the bishop

turned away violently and resumedhis longlegged pace. Carmody,·somewhat subdued, follpwed at his heels,though there was often room enoughfor the two to walk side by side.Sensitive to Andre's moods, he knewthat it was best to keep out of hissight for a while. Meanwhile, he'dinterest himself in his surrounding~

The copter survey crews had reported that between the mountainsto the east and the ocean to thewest the country was much alike: arolling, sometimes hilly, land withlarge prairies interspersed with forests.The latter seemed more like a parkthan untamed woods. The grass wasa foot-high succulent kind keptcropped by the herbivores; manyof the trees had their counterpartsamong the temperate ~atitudes ofEarth; only here and there werethick tangled stretches that mightproperly be called wild. The laketowards which the two were headedlay in the center of just such a"jungle." The widely spaced oaks,pines, cypresses, beeches, sycamores,and cedars here gave way to anisland of the jelly-containing redwoods. Actually, they did not growclose together but gave that impression because of the many vines·and lianas that connected them andthe tiny parasitic trees, like ever~

greens, that grew horizontally outof cracks in their trunks.

It was darker under these greatvegetation-burdened limbs, thoughhere and there shafts of sunlightslanted, seeming like solid and lean-

22

ing trunks of gold themselves. Theforest was alive with the color andcalls of bright birds and the darkbodies and ·chitterings of arborealanimals. Some of these looked likemonkeys; when they leapt throughthe branches and came quite close,the resemblance was even moreamazing. But they were evidentlynot sprung from a protosimian base;they must have been descendedfrom a cat that had decided to growfingers instead of claws and to assume a s~mi-upright posture. Darkbrown on the back, they had grayfurred bellies and chests and longprehensile tails tufted at the endwith auburn. Their faces had lostthe pointed beastish look and becomeflat as an ape's. Three long thickfeline whiskers bristled from eachside of their thin lips. Their teethwere sharp and long, but they pickedand ate a large pear-shaped berrythat grew on the vines. Their slittedpupils expanded in the shade andcontracted in the sunlit spaces. Theychattered among themselves and behaved in general like monkeys, except that they seemed to be cleaner.

"Perhaps they've cousins whoevolved into humanoid beings," said

~ Carmody aloud, partly because he'd. the habit of talking to himself,

partly to see if the bishop were outof his mood.

"Heh?" said Andre, stopping andalso looking at the creatures, whoreturned his gaze just as curiously."Oh, yes, Sokoloff's Theory of theNecessary Chance. Every branch of


the animal kingdom as we know iton Earth seems to have had itsopportunity to develop into a sentient being some place in the Galaxy.The vulpoids of Kubeia, the aviansof Albireo IV, the cetaceoids ofOceanos, the molluscs of Baudelaire,the Houyhnhnms of Somewhere Else,the so-called lying bugs of Munchausen, the . . . well, I could go·on and on. But on almost everyEarth-type planet we find this orthat line of life seized the evolutionary chance given by God anddeveloped intelligence. All, withsome exceptions, going through anarboreal simian stage and then flowering into an upright creature resembling man."

"And all thinking of themselvesas .being God's image, even theporpoise-men of Oceanos and theland-oysters of Baudelaire," addedCarmody. "Well, enough of philosophy. At least, fish are fish, on anyplanet."

They had come out of the forestonto the lake shore. It was a bodyof water about a mile wide and twolong, fed by a clear brook to thenorth. The grass grew to the veryedge, where little frogs leaped intothe waterat their approach. Carmodyuncased their two rods but disengaged the little jet mechanismsthat would have propelled theirbait-tipped lines far out over thelake.

"Really not sporting," he said."We ought to give these foreignpiscines a chance, eh?"

FATHER

"Right," replied the bishop, smiling. "If I can't do anything with myown right arm, I'll go home with anempty basket."

"I forgot to bring along a basket,but·we can use some of those broadleaves on the vines to wrap ourcatch in."

An hour later they were forcedto stop because of the pile of finnylife behind them, and these were onlythe biggest ones. The rest had beenthrown back. Andre had hooked thelargest, a magnificent trout of about30 pounds, a fighter who tooktwenty minutes to land. After that,sweating and breathing hard butshining~eyed, he said, "I'm hot.What do you say to a swim, John?"

Carmody smiled at the use of his.familiar name again and shouted,"Last one in is a Sirian I"

In a minute two naked bodiesplunged into the cold clear watersat exactly the same time. When theycame up, .Carmody sputtered, "Guesswe're both Sirians, but you win, forI'm the ugliest. Or does that meanthat I win?"

Andre laughed for sheer joy, thensped across the lake in a fast crawl.The other did not even try to followhim but floated on his back, eyesclosed. Once he raised his head todetermine if the bishop was gettingalong but quit when he saw that hewas in no trouble. Andre had reachedthe other shore and was returningat a slower but easy pace. When hedid come back and had rested for awhile on .the beach, he said, "John

23··

would you mind climbing out andtiming me in a dive? I'd like to seeif I'm still in good form. It's about,seven feet here, not too deep."

Carmody climbed onto the grassyshore, where he set his watch andgave the signal. Andre plungedunder. When he emerged he swamback at once. "How'd I do?" he.called as he waded out of the water,his magnificent body shining we~_

and golden brown in the late afternoon sun.

"Four minutes, three seconds,"said Carmody. "About forty secondsoff your record. But still better, I'llbet, than any other man in theGalaxy. You're the champ yet,Your Excellency."

Andre nodded, smiling slightly."Twenty years ago I set the record.I believe that if I went again intorigorous training, I could equal itagain or even beat it. I've learnedmuch since then about control ofmy body and mind. Even then I wasnot entirely at ease in the pressureand gloom of the underwater. Iloved it, but my love was tingedjust a little with terror. An attitudethat is almost, you might say, one'sattitude towards God. Perhaps toomuch so, as one of my parishionerswas kind enough to point out to me.I think he meant that I was payingtoo much attention to what shouldhave been only a diversion for myidle moments.

"He was correct, ofcourse, thoughI rather resented his remarks at thetime. He couldn't have known that

24

it was an irresistible challenge to meto float beneath the bright surface,all alone, feel myself buoyed as ifin the arms of a great mother, yetalso feel her arms squeezing just alittle too tight. I had to fight downthe need to shoot to the surface andsuck in lifegiving air, yet I was proudbecause I could battle that panic,could defeat it. I felt always as if Iwas in danger but because of thatvery danger was on the verge ofsome vital dis.covery about myself- what, I never found out. But Ialwaysthought that if I stayed downlong enough, could keep out theblackness and the threat of loss ofconsciousness, I would find the secret.

"Strange thought, wasn't it? Itlead me to study the neo-Yogadisciplines which were supposed toenable one to go into suspendedanimation, death-in-life. There wasa man on Gandhi who could stayburied alive for three \veeks, butI could never determine if he wasfaking or not. He \vas some help tome, however. He taught me that ifI would~ as he put it, go dead here,first of all," and Andre touched hisleft breast, "then here," and hetouched his loins, "the rest wouldfollow. I could become as an embryofloating in the amniotic sac, livingbut requiring no breath, no oxygenexcept that which soaked throughthe cells, as he put it. An absurdtheory, scientifically speaking, yet itworked to some extent. Would youbelieve it, I now have to forcemyself to rise because it seems so


safe and nice and warm under there,even when the water is very cold, asin this lake?"

While he talked, he'd been wipingoff the water from his skin with hisquilted dickie, his back t~rned toCarmody. The priest knew his bishopwas embarrassed to expose hilnself.He himself, though he knew hisbody looked ugly and grotesque besides the other's perfect physique,was not at all ill-at-ease. In commonwith most of the people of his time,he'd been raised in a world \vherenudity on the beach and in theprivate home was socially accepted,almost demanded. Andre, born inthe Church, had had a very strictupbringing by devout parents whohad insisted that he follo\v themillennia-old pattern even in themidst of a world that mocked.

It was of that he spoke no\v, asif he'd guessed what Carmody wasthinking.

"I disobeyed my father but once,"he said. "That was when I was ten.We lived in a neighborhood composed mainly ofagnostics or membersof the Temple of Universal Light.But I had some very good palsamong the local gang of boys andtomboys, and just once they talkedme into going swimming in theriver, skin-style. Ofcourse my fathercaught me; he seemed to have aninstinct for detecting when sin wasthreatening any of his family. Hegave me the beating 'of my lifemay his soul rest in peace," he addedwithout conscious irony.

FATHER

"'Spare the rod and spoil thechild' was ever his favorite maxim,yet he had to whip me just thatone time in my life. Or rather, Ishould say twice, because I toreloose from him while he \vas strapping me in front of the gang, plungedinto tQe river, and dived deep,\vhere I stayed a long time in aneffort to frighten my father intothinking I'd drowned myself. Eventually, of course, I had to come up.My father resumed the punishment.He was no more severe the secondtime, though. He couldn't havebeen without killing me. As a matterof fact, he almost did. If it weren'tfor modern science's ability to doaway with scars, I'd still bear themon my back and legs. As it is, they'restill here," and he pointed to indicate his heart.

He finished drying himself andpicked up his puffkilt. ""VeIl, that\vas thirty-five years ago and thousands of lightyears a\vay, and I daresay the beating did me a tremendousamount of good."

He looked at the clear sky andat the woods, arched his deep chestin a great breath, and said, "Thisis a wonderful and unspoiled planet,a testimony to God's love for thebeauty of His creatures and Hisgener~sity in scattering them acrossthe universe, almost as if He had hadto do so! Here I feel as if God' isin His heaven and all's right withthe world. The symmetry and fruitfulness of those trees, the clean airand waters, the manifold songs

25

of those birds and their brightcolors ..."

He stopped, for he suddenly realized what Carmody had just previously noticed. There was none ofthe noisy but melodious twitteringsand chirpings and warblings nor thechattering of the monkeys. All washush. Like a thick blanket of moss,a silence hung over the forest.

"Something's scared those aniInals," whispered Carmody. Heshivered, though the westering sun\vas yet hot, and he looked around.Near them, on a long branch thatextended over t~e lake's edge, sata row of catmonkeys that had appeared as if from nowhere. Theywere gray-furred except for a broadwhite mark on their chests, roughlyin the form of a cross. Their headhair grew thick and forward andfell over their foreheads like amonk's cowl. Their hands wereplaced over their eyes in a monkeysee-no-evil attitude. But their eyesshone bright between their fingers,and Carmody, despite his sense ofuneasiness, felt a prickling oflaughterand murmured, "No fair peeking."

A deep cough sounded in theforest; the monk-monks, as he'dtagged them, cowered and crowdedeven closer together.

"What could that be?" said thebishop.

"Must be a big beast. I've heardlions cough; they sounded just likethat."

Abruptly, the bishop reached outa large square hand and closed

26

Carmody's little pudgy hand in it.Alarmed at the look on Andre's

face, Carmody said, "Is anotherseizure coming on?"

The bishop shook his head. Hiseyes were glazed. "No. Funny, Ifelt for a moment almost as I didwhen my father caught me."

He released the other's hand andtook a deep breath. "I'll be allright."

He lifted his kilt to step into it.Carmody gasped. Andre jerked hishead upright and gave a little cry.Something white was looming inthe shadow of the trees, movingslowly but surely, the focus andcause of the silence that spreadeverywhere. Then it grew darkeras it stepped into the sunshine andstopped for a moment, not to adjust its eyes to the dazzle but toallow the beholders to adjust theireyes to him. He was eight feet talland looked much like a humanbeing and moved with such dignityand such beauty that the earthseemed to give way respectfully ateach footstep. He was long-beardedand naked and massively male, andthe eyes were like those of a granitestatue of a god that had becomeflesh, too terrible to look straightinto.

He spoke. They knew then theorigin of that cough that had comefrom the depth of lungs deep as anoracle's well. His voice was a lion'sroar; it made the two pygmiesclasp each other's hands again andunloosed their muscles so that they


thought they'd come apart. Yetthey did not think of how amazingit was that he should speak in theirtongue.

"Hello, my sons!" he thundered.They bowed their heads."Father."

IV

An hour before sunset, Andre andCarmody ran out of the woods.They were in a hurry because of thetremendous uproar that had arousedthe forest for miles around. Menwere yelling, and a woman wasscreaming, and something was growling loudly. They arrived just intime to see the end. Two enormousbeasts, bipedal heavily tailed creatures with bearish heads, were racingafter Kate Lejeune and Pete Masters.Kate and Pete were running handin hand, he pulling her so fast thatshe seemed to fly through the airwith every step. In his other handhe carried his powersaw. Neitherhad a sono-gun with which to defendthemselves, although Captain Tuhad ordered that no one be withoutthe weapon. A moment later it wasseen that the gun would have madeno difference, for several crewmenwho had been standing by the shiphad turned their sonos against thebeasts. Undeterred by the panickingeffects of the beams, the monsterssprang after the couple and caughtthem halfway across the meadow.

Though unarmed, Andre andCarmody ran at the things, theirfists clenched. Pete turned in his

FATHER

captor's grasp and struck it acrossthe muzzle with the sharp edge ofhis saw. Kate screamed loudly, thenfainted. Suddenly, the two wereIying in the grass, for the animalshad dropped them and were walkingalmost leisurely towards the woods.That neither the sonos nor thepriests had scared them off was evi..dent. They brushed by the latterwithout noticing them, and if theformer had affected their nervoussystems at all, they gave no signs.

Carmody looked once at the young\\'oman and yelled, "Doctor Blake!Get Blake at once!"

Like a genie summoned by themention of his name, Blake was therewith his little black kit. He at oncecalled for a stretcher; ,Kate, moaningand rolling her head from side toside, was carried into the ship'shospital. Pete raged un til Blakeordered hin{ out of the room.

"I'll get a gun and kill thosebeasts. I'll track them down if ittakes me a week. Or a year! I'll trapthem and ..."

Carmody pushed him out of theroom and into the lounge, \\,here hemade the youth sit down. \Vith ashaking hand, he lit two cigarettes.

"It would do you no good to killthem," he said. "They'd be up andaround in a few days. Besides,they're just animals who were obey...ing their master's commands."

He puffed on his cigarette whilewith one hand he snapped his glow...wire lighter shut and put it back inhis' pocket.

27-

"I'm just as shaken up as you..Recent events have been too fastand too inexplicable for my nervoussystem to take them in stride. ButI wouldn't worry about Kate beinghurt, if I were you. I know shelooked pretty bad, but I'm sureshe'll be all right and in a very shorttime, too."

"You blind optimistic ass!" shoutedPete. "You saw what happened. t()her!"

"She's suffering from hystericstnot from any physical effects of hermiscarriage," replied Carmodycalmly.."I'll bet that in a few minutes, whenBlake has her calmed down with asedative, she'll walk out of the hos..pital in as good a condition as shewas in this morning. I know she will ..You see, son, I've had a talk with abeing who is not God but who con"vinces you that he is the nearestequivalent."

Pete became slack-jawed. "What?What're you talking about?"

"I know I sound as if I weretalking nonsense. But I've met theowner of Abatos. Or rather he hastalked to me, and what he has shown.the bishop and me is, to understate,.staggering. There are a hundred.things we'll have to let you and.everybody else know in due time..Meanwhile, I can give you an idea.of his powers. They range in terriblespectrum from such petty, but amaz...·mg, deeds as curing my toothache'with a mere laying on of hands t<>bringing dead bones back to life andreclothing them' with flesh. I have

28

seen the dead. arise and go forth.Though, I must admit, probably tobe eaten again."

Frowning, he added, "The bishopand I were permitted to perform or should I say commit? - a resurrection ourselves. The sensation isnot indescribable, but" I prefer notto say anything about it at present."

Pete rose with clenched fists, hiscigarette shredding under the pressure.

"You must be crazy..""That would be nice if I were,

for I'd be relieved of an awfulresponsibility. And if the choice weremi~e, I'd take incurable insanity.But I'm not to get off so easily."

t Suddenly, Father John lost hiscalmness; he looked as if he weregoing to break into many pieces. Heburied his face in his hands, whilePete stared stunned. Then the priestas abruptly lowered his hands andpresented once again the sharpnosed, round and smiling featuresthe world knew so well.

"Fortunately, the ultimate decision will not be mine but His Excellency's. And though it is cowardlyto be glad because I may pass thebuck on to him, I must confess thatI will be glad. His is the power inthis case, and though power has itsglory, it also has its burdens andgrief~. I wouldn't want to be in thebishop's shoes at this moment."

Pete didn't hear the priest's lastwOlds. He was gazing at the hospitaldoor, just opening. Kate steppedout, a little pale but walking steadily.


Pete ran to her; they folded eachother in their arms; then she wascrYIng.

"Are you all right, honey?" Petekept saying over and over.

"Oh, I feel fine," she replied, stillweeping. "I don't understand why,but I do. I'm suddenly healed.There's nothing wrong down there.It was as if a hand passed over me,and strength flowed out of it, andall was well with my body."

Blake, who had appeared behindher, nodded in agreernent.

"Oh, Pete," sobbed Kate, "I'mall right, but I lost our baby! AndI know it wa~ because we stole thatmoney from Daddy. It was our punishment. It was bad enough runningaway, though we had to do thatbecause we loved each other. Butwe should never have taken thatmoney!"

"Hush, honey, you're talking toomuch. Lees go to our cabin whereyou can rest."

Gently he directed her out of thelounge while he glared defiantly atCarmody.

"Oh, Pete," she wailed, "all thatmoney, and now we're on a planetwhere it's absolutely no good at all.Only a burden."

"You talk too much, baby," saidPete, a roughness replacing the gentleness in his voice. They disappeareddown the corridor. Carmody saidnothing. Eyes downcast, he, too,walked to his cabin and shut thedoor behind him.

A half hour later, he came out and

FATHER

asked for Captain Tu. Told that Tuwas outside, he left the Gull andfound an attentive group at theedge of the meadow on the otherside of the ship. Mrs. Recka and thefirst mate were the center of attraction.

"We were sitting under one ofthose big jelly trees and passing thebottle back and forth and talking ofthis and that," said Givens. "Mostlyabout what we'd do if we found outwe were stranded here for the rest ofour lives."

Somebody snickered. Givensflushed but continued evenly.

"Suddenly, Mrs. Recka and I became very sick. We vomited violently and broke out into a coldsweat. By the time we'd emptied ourstomachs, we were sure the 'whiskyhad been poisoned. We thought we'ddie in the woods, perhaps never tobe found, for we were quite adistance from the ship and in arather secluded spot.

"But as suddenly as it had come,the illness went away. We felt completely happy and healthy. Theonly difference was, we both wereabsolutely certain that we'd neveragain want to touch a drop ofwhisky."

"Or any other alcoholic drink,"added Mrs. Recka, shuddering.

Those who knew of her weaknessgazed curiously and somewhat doubtfully at her. Carmody tapped thecaptain's elbow and drew him off toone side.

"Is the radio and other electronic

29

equipment working by now?" heasked.

"They resumed operation aboutthe time you two showed up. Butthe translator still refuses to budge.I was worried when you failed. toreport through your wrist radios.For all I knew, some beast of preyhad killed you, or you'd fallen intothe lake and drowned. I organizeda search party, but we'd not gonehalf a mile before we noticed theneedles on our ship-finders whirling'like mad. So we returned. I didn'twant to be lost in the woods, for myprimary duty is to the ship, ofcourse. And I couldn't send out acopter crew, for the copters simplyrefused to run. They're working allright now, though. What do youthink of all this?"

"Oh, I ·know who is doing this.And why."

"For God's sake~ man, who?""I don't know if it is for God's

sake or not...." Carmody glancedat his watch. "Come with me. Thereis someone you must meet."

"Where are we going?""Just follow me. He wants a fe\v

words with you because you are thecaptain, and your decision will haveto be given also. Moreover, I wantyou to know just what we are upagainst."

"Who is he? A native of Abatos?""Not exactly, though he has lived

here longer than any native creatureof this planet."

Tu adjusted the angle of his capand brushed dust flakes from his

3°

uniform. He strode through thecorridors of the noisy jungle as ifthe trees were on parade and he wereinspecting them.

"If he has been here longer thanten thousand years," said the captainunconsciously stressing the personalpronoun as Carmody did, "then hemust have arrived long before Englishand its descendant tongue, Lingo,were spoken, when the Aryan speechwas still only the property of asavage tribe in Central Asia. Howcan we talk with him? Telepathy?"

"No. He learned Lingo from thesurvivor of the crash of the Hoyle,the only ship he ever permitted toget through."

"And where is this man?" askedTu, annoyedly glancing at a choirof howling monkeys on an overheadbranch.

"No man. A woman, a medicalofficer. After a year here, she commit ted suicide. Built a funeral pyreand burned herself to death. There~as nothing left of her but ashes."

"Why?""I imagine because total cremation

was the only way she could put herself beyond his reach. Because otherwise he might have placed her bonesin a jelly tree and brought her backto life."

Tu halted. "My mind understandsyou, but my sense of belief is numb.Why did she kill herself when, if youare not mistaken, she had eternallife before her or at least a reasonablefacsimile thereof?"

"He - Father - says that she


could not endure the thought ofliving forever on Abatos with himas her only human, or humanoid,companion. I know how she felt. Itwould be like sharing the world withonly God to talk to. Her sense ofinferiority and her loneliness musthave been overwhelming."

Carmody stopped suddenly andbecame .lost in thought, his headcocked to one side, his left eyeliddrooping.

"Hmm. That's strange. He saidthat we, too, could have his powers,become like him. Why didn't heteach her? Was it because he didn'twant to share? Come to think of it,he's made no offers of dividing hisdominions. Only wants substitution.Hmm. All or none. Either hear . ..or what?"

"What the hell are you talkingabout?" barked Captain Tu irritatedly.

,"You may be right at that," saidCarmody, absently. "Look, there'sa jelly tree. What do you say we doa little poking and prying, heh? It'strue that he forbade any needlenosing on the part of us extraAbatosians; it's true that this maybe another garden of Eden and thatI, a too true son of Adam, alas, maybe re-enacting another fall fromgr,!ce, may be driven out with flaming swords - though I wouldn'tmind being expelled back to somefamiliar planet- may even be blastedwith lightning for blasphemingagainst the local deity. Nevertheless,I think a Ii ttle delving into the con-

FATHER

tents of that cavity may he as profitable as any dentist's work. What doyou say, Captain? The consequencescould be rather disastrous."

"If you mean am I afraid, all Ican say is that you know bet ter thanthat," growled Tu. "I'll let no priestget ahead of me in guts. Go ahead.I'll back you up all the way."

"Ah," said Carmody, walkingbriskly up to the foot of the enormous redwood, "ah, but you've notseen and talked to the Father ofAbatos. It's not a matter of backingme up, for there's little you coulddo if we should be discovered. It's amatter of giving me moral" courage,of shaming me with your presenceso that I won't run like a rabbit ifhe should catch me red-handed."

With one hand he took a smallvial out of his pocket and with theother a flashlight, whose beam hepointed into the dark O. Tu lookedover his shoulder.

"It quivers, almost as if it werealive," said the captain in a low voice:

"It emits a faint humming, too.If you put your hand lightly on itssurface, you can feel the vibration."

"What are those whitish thingsembedded in it? Bones?"

"Yes, the hollow goes rather deep,doesn't it? Must be below the surfaceof the ground. See that dark massin one corner? An antelope of somesort, I'd say. Looks to me as if theflesh were being built up in layersfrom the inside out; the outermuscles and skin aren't re-createdyet."

31

The priest scooped out a sampleof the jelly, capped the vial, and putit back in his pocket. He did notrise but kept playing his beam overthe hollow.

"This stuff really makes a Geigercounter dance. Not only that, itradiates electromagnetic .waves. Ithink that radio waves from thisjelly damped out our \vrist speakersand sonos and played havoc withour ship-finders. Hey, wait a minute'Notice those very minute whitethreads that run through the wholemass. Nerve-like, aren't they?"

Before Carmody could protest,Tu stooped and dipped out a handfulof the quivering gelatinous mass."Yeah. Do you know where I'veseen something like this before?This stuff reminds me of the proteintransistors we use in the translator."

Carmody frowned. "Aren't theythe only living parts of the machine? .Seems to me I read that the translator won't rotate the ship throughperpendicular space unless these transistors are used."

"Mechanical transistors could beused," corrected Tu. "But theywould occupy a space as large as thespaceship itself. Protein transistorstake up very little area; you couldcarry the Gull's on your back.Actually, that part of the translatoris not only a series of transistors buta memory bank. Its function is to'remember' normal space. It has toretain a simulacrum of real or 'horizontal' space as distinguished fromperpendicular. While one end of the

32

translator is 'flopping us over,' asthe phrase goes, the protein end isreconstructing an image of what thespace at our destination looks like,down to the last electron. Soundsvery much like sympathetic magic,doesn't it? Build an effigy, andshortly you establish an affinity between reality and counterfeit."

"What happened to the proteinbanks?"

"Nothing that we could tell. Theyfunctioned normally."

"Perhaps the currents aren't getting through. Did the engineer checkthe synapses or just take a readingon the biostatic charge of the whole?The charge could be normal, youknow, yet any transmission could· beblocked."

"That's the engineer's province.I wouldn't dream of questioning hiswork, any more than he would

. "mIne.Carmody rose. "I'd like to talk to

the engineer. I've a layman's theory,but like most amateurs, I may beoverly enthusiastic because of myignorance. If you don't care, I'drather not disc~ss it now. Especiallyhere, where the forest may have ears,and ..."

Though the captain had not evenopened his mouth, the priest hadraised his finger for silence in a characteristic gesture. Suddenly, it wasapparent that he did have his silence,for there was not a sound in thewoods except the faint soughing ofthe wind through the leaves.

"He is around," whispered Car'"


mOOy. "Throw that jelly back in,and we'll get away from this tree."

Tu raised his hand to do so. Atthat moment a rifle shot crackednearby. Both men jumped. "MyGod, what fool's doing that?" criedTu. He said something else, but hisvoice was lost in the bedlam tha tbroke out through the woods, theshrieks of birds, the howling ofmonkeys, the trumpetings, neighings, and roarings of thousands ofother animals. Then, as abruptly 'asit had begun, it stopped, almost asif by signal. Silence fell. Then, 'asingle crx. A man's.

"It's Masters," groaned Carmody.There was a rumble, as of some

large beast growling deep in its chest.One of the leopard-like creatureswith the round ears and the graytufts on its legs padded out from thebrush. I t held Pete Masters' danglingbody between its jaws as easily as acat holds a mouse. Paying no attention to the two men, it ran pastthem to the foot of an oak, where itstopped and laid the youth down before another intruder.

Father stood motionless as stone,one nailless hand resting upon hislong red-gold beard, his deeplysunken eyes downcast, intent on thefigure on the grass. He did not moveuntil Pete, released from his paralysis,writhed in a passion of abjectnessand called out for mercy. Then hestooped and touched "the youthbriefly on the back of his head. Peteleaped to his feet and, holding hishead and screaming as if in pain, ran

FATHER

away through the trees. The leop'"ardess remained couchant, blinkingslowly like a fat and lazy housecat.

Father spoke to her. While hestalked off into the woods, she turnedher green eyes upon the two men.Neither felt like testing her competency as a guard.

Father stopped under a tree over'"grown with vines from which hungfat heavy pods like white hairlesscoconuts. Though the lowest wastwelve feet high, he had no difficultyin reaching up and squeezing it inhis hand. It cracked open with aloud report, and water shot fromthe crushed shell. Tu and Carmodypaled; the captain muttered, "I'drather tackle that big cat than him."

The giant wheeled, and, washinghis hands with the water, strodetowards them. "Would you like tocrush coconuts in one hand, too,Captain?" he thundered. "That isnothing. I can show you how yournay also do that. I can tear thatyoung beech tree Qut of the groundby the roots. I can speak a word toZeda here, and she will heel like adog. That is nothing. I can teachyou the power. I can hear yourwhisper even at a distance of ahundred yards, as you realize bynow. And I could catch yo~ withinten seconds, even if you had a headstart and I were sitting down. Thatis nothing. I can tell instantly whereany of my daughters are on the faceof Abatos, what state of health theyare in, and when they've died. Thatis nothing. You can do the same,

33

provided you become like that priestthere. You could even raise mydead, if you had the will to be likeFather John. I may take your handand show you how you could bringlife again to the dead body, thoughI do not care to touch you."

"For God's sake, say no," breathedCarmody. "It's enough that thebishop and I should have been exposed to that temptation."

Father laughed. Tu grabbed holdof Carmody's hand. He could nothave answered the giant if he hadwished, for his mouth opened andclosed like a fish's out of water, andhis eyeballs popped.

"There's something about his voicethat turns the bowels to water andloosens the knees," said the priest,then fell silent. Father stooq abovethem, wiping his hands on his beard.Aside from that magnificent growt~and a towering roach on his head,he was absolutely bald. His pale redskin was unblemished, glowing withperfect blood beneath the thin surface. His high-bridged nose wasseptumless, but the one nostril wasa flaring Gothic one. Red teethglistened in his mouth; a blue-veinedtongue shot out for a moment likea flame; then the black-red lipswrithed and closed. All this wasstrange but not enough to makethese star-traveled men uncomfortable. The voice and the eyes stunnedthem, the thunder that seemed toshake their bones so they rattled andthe black eyes starred with silversplinters. Stone come to flesh.

34

"Don't worry, Carmody. I willnot show Tu how to raise the dead.Unlike you and Andre, he'd not bedble to do it, anyhow. Neitherwo~ld any of the others, for I'vestudied them, and I know. But Ihave need of you, Tu. I will tell youwhy, and when I have told you, youwill see there is nothing else for youto do. I will convince you by reason,not by force, for I hate violence, andindeed am required by the natureof my being not to use it. Unless anemergency demands it."

Father talked. An hour. later, hestopped. Without waiting for eitherof them to say a word, even ifthey'd been capable, he turned andstrode away, the leopardess a respectable distance behind his heels. Presently, the normal calls of the woodanimals began. The two men shookthemselv~s and silently walked backto the ship. At the meadow's edge,Carmody said, "There's only onething to do. Call a Council of theQuestion of Jairus. Fortunately, youfill the bill for the kind of laymanrequired as moderator. I'll ask thebishop's permission, but I'm surehe'll agree it's the only thing to do.We can't contact our superiors andrefer a decision to their judgment.The responsibility rests on us."

"It's a terrible burden," said thecaptain.

At the ship they asked about thebishop, to be told he had walkedaway into the forest only a shorttime before. The wrist radios wereworking, but no answer came from

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FtCTION

Andre. ,Alarmed, the two decided'togo back into the forest to search forhim. They followed the path to thelake, while 'Tu checked every nowand then through his radio with acopter circling overhead. They'd reported the bishop was not by thelakeshore, but Carmody thoughthe might be on his way to it orperhaps was just sitting some placeand meditating.

About a mile from the Gull theyfound him lying at the foot of anexceptionally tall jelly tree. Tu.halted suddenly.

"He's having an attack, Father."Carmody turned away and sat

down on the grass, his back to thebishop. He lit a cigarette but droppedit and crushed it beneath his heel.

"I forgot he doesn't want us tosmoke in the woods. Not for fear offire . He doesn't like the odor oftobacco."

Tu stood by the priest, his gazeclinging to the writhing figure beneath the tree. "Aren't you goingto help him? He'll chew off histongue or dislocate a bone."

Carmody hunched his shouldersand shook his head. "You forgetthat he cured our ills to demonstrateIlis powers. My rotten tooth, Mrs.Recka's alcoholism, His Excellency's

. "seizures."But, but ...""'His Excellency has entered into

this so..called attack voluntarily andis in no danger of breaking bones orlacerating his tongue. I wish that\vere all there were to it. Then I'd

FATHER

know what to do. Meanwhile, Isuggest you do the decent thing andturn your back, too. I didn't carefor this the first time I witnessed it;I still don't."

"Maybe you won't help, but Isure as hell am going to," said 'Tu.He took a step, halted, sucking inhis breath.

Carmody turned to look, then rose."It's all right. Don't be alarmed."

The bishop had given a final via..lent spasm, a thrusting of the pelvisthat raised his arched body completely off the ground. At the sametime he gave a loud racking sob.When he fell back, he crumpled intosilence and motionlessness.

But it was not towards him buttowards the hollow in the tree thatTu stared. Out of it was crawling agreat white snake with black triangular markings on its back. Itshead was large as a watermelon; itseyes glittered glassy green; its scalesdripped with white-threaded jelly.

"My God," ·said Tu, "isn't thereany end to it? It keeps coming andcoming. Must be forty or fifty feetlong."

His hand went to the sono-gunin his pocket. Carmody restrainedhim with another shake of his head.

"That snake intends no harm.On the contrary, if I understandthese animals, it knows dimly thatit has been given life again and feelsa sense of gratitude. Perhaps he hasmade them aware that he resurrectsthem so that he may warm himselfin their automatic worship. But, of

35

course, he would never stand forwhat that beast is doing. He, ifyou've not noticed, can't endure totouch his secondhand progeny. Didyou perceive that after he had.:touched Masters, he washed his handswith coconut water? Flowers andtrees are the only things he handles."

The snake had thrust· its headabove the bishop's and was touchinghis face with its flickering tongue.Andre gr6aned and opened his eyes.Seeing the reptile, he shudderedwith fear, then grew still and allowedit to caress him. After determiningthatit meant him no harm, hestroked its back.

"Well, if the bishop should takeover from Father, he at least willgive these animals what they havealways wanted and have not gottenfrom him, a tenderness and affection.His Excellency does not hate thesefemales. Not yet."

In a louder voice, he added, "Ihope to God that such a thing doesnot come to pass."

Hissing with alarm, the snake slidoff into the grass. Andre sat up,shook his head as if to clear it, roseto greet them. His, face had lost thesoftness it had while he was caressingthe serpent. It was stern, and hisvoice was challenging.

"Do you think it is right to comespying upon mer"

"Your pardon, Your Excellency,we were not spying. We were looking for you because we have decidedthat the situation demands a Councilof the Question of Jairus."

36

Tu added, "We were concernedbecause Your Excellency seemed tobe having another attack."

"Was I? Was I? But I thoughtthat he had done away ... Imean ..."

Sadly, Carmody nodded. "He has.I wonder if Your Excellency wouldforgive me if I gave an opinion. Ithink that you were not having anepileptoid seizure coincidentally withsparking the snake with its new life.Your seeming attack was only amock-up of your former illness.

"I see you don't understand. Letme put it this way. The doctor onWildenwooly had thought that yoursickness was psychosomatic in originand .had ordered you to Ygdrasil\vhere a more competent man couldtreat it. Before you left, you toldme that he thought that yoursymptoms were symbolic behaviorand pointed the way to the seat ofyour malady, a suppressed ..."

"I think you should stop there,"said the bishop, coldly. \

"l had intended to go no further."They began walkip.g back to the

ship. The two priests dropped behind the captain, who strode alongwith his eyes fixed straight ahead ofhim.

The bishop said, hesitantly, "Youtoo experienced the glory - perhaps perilous, but nevertheless a

""glory - of bringing the dead backto life. I watch~d you, as you did'me. You were not unmoved. True,you did not fall to the ground andbecome semi-conscious. But you


tremblea and moaned in the grip ofecstasy."

He ,cast his eyes to the ground,then, as if ashamed of his hesitancy,raised them to glare unflinchingly.

"Before your conversion, you werevery much a man of this world. Tellme, John, is not this fathering something like being with a woman?"

Carmody looked to one side."I want neither your pity nor

your revulsion," said Andre. "Justthe truth."

Carmody sighed deeply."Yes, the two experiences are very

similar. But the fa thering is evenmore intimate because once enteredupon it there is no control at "all,absolutely no withdrawal from theintimacy; your whole being, mindand body, are fused and focusedupon the event. The feeling of oneness - so much desired in the otherand so often lacking - is inescapablehere. Yau feel as if you were therecreator and the recreated. Afterwards, you have a part of the animalin you - as "you well know - because there is a little spark in yourbrain tha t is a piece of its life, and\vhen the spark moves you knowthat the animal you raised is moving.And when it dims you know it issleeping, and when it flares youknow it is in a panic or some otherintense emotion. And when thespark dies, you know the beast hasdied too.

"Father's brain is a constellationof such sparks, of billions of starsthat image brightly their o\vners'

FATHER

vitality. He knows where everyindividual unit of life is on thisplanet, he knows when it is g~ne, andwhen he does, he waits until thebones have been refleshed, and thenhe fathers forth . . .""He fathers-jorth whose beauty is

past change:Praise him!" Andre burst out.Startled, Carmody raised his eyes.

"Hopkins, 1 think, would be distressed to hear you quoting his linesin tpis context. I think perhaps hemight retort with a passage fromanother of his poems."Man's spirit will beflesh-hound when

found at best,But uncumbered: meadow-down is

not distressedFor a rainbow fOoting it nor he fOr

his bones nOsen.""Your quote supports m.ne. His

bones risen. What more do you need?"But uncumbered. What is the

penalty for this ecstasy? This worldis beautiful, yes, but is it not sterile,dead-ended? Well, never mind thatnow. I wished to remind Your Excellency that this power and glorycome from a sense of union and control over brutes. The world is hisbed, but who would lie forever init? And why does he now wish toleave it, if it is so desirable? Forgood? Or for evil?"

v

An hour later, the three enteredthe bishop's cabin and sat down atthe bare round tahIe· in its center.Carmody was carrying a little black

37

bag, which he put under his chairwithout commenting on it. All weredressed in black robes, and as soonas Andre had given the openingritual prayer, they put on the masksof the founder of the order. For amoment there was silence as theylooked at each other from behindthe assumed anonymous safety o~identical features: brown skin, kinky.hair, flat nose, thick lips. And withthe intense West Africanness of theface, the maker of the masks hadmanaged to impart to them thelegendary gentleness and nobility ofsoul that had belonged to JairusCbwaka.

Captain Tu spoke through rigidlips.

"We are gathered here in thename of his love and of His love toformulate the temptation, if any,that confronts us, and take action,if any, against it. Let us speak asbrothers, remembering each time welook across the table and see theface of the founder that he never losthis temper except upon one occasionnor forgot his love except upon oneoccasion. Let us remember his agoniescaused by that forgetfulness andwhat he has directed us, priest andlayman, to do. Let us be worthy ofhis spirit in the presence of theseeming of his flesh."

"I would like it better if youdidn't rattle through the words sofast," said the bishop. "Such a pacedestroys the spirit of the thing."

"It doesn't remedy anything foryou to criticize my conduct~ng."

']8

~-'Relmke well taken. I ask you toIUrgive me."~Of course," Tu said, somewhat

uncomfortably. "Of course. Well,to :business.'" ~

"I speak for Father," said thehishop.

':'1 o~pea-k against Father," saidCarmody.~peak for °Father," said Tu.c~hesis:Father represents the

:lOrces of 'good. He has offered theChurch the monopoly of the secretofresurr-ection."

UAntithesis.o"o"Father represents the forces of

evil, for he will unloose upon theGalaxy a force owhich will destroythe Church if she tries to monopolize it. Moreover, °even if she-should refuse to :have anything todo with lit, it will desotroy mankindeverywhere and ;consequently ourChurch."

f"Developmentof thoesis."~'A11 his actions have been for

good. Point. He has cured our illnesses major and minor. Point. He°sotopped Masters and Lejeune from1:amal intercours'e and perhaps didThe same to Recka and Givens.Point. He made the former confessthey .had stolen money from Lejeune's father, and since then Lejeune has come tome for spiritualadvice. She ~eemed to consider very'Seriously my suggestion that she'have nothing to do with Mastersand 0 to return to her father, if the"t"hance came, in an attempt tosolve. their problems with his con-


sent. Point. She is studying a manual I gave her and may be led to theChurch. That will be Father's doingsand not Masters', who has neglectedthe Church though he is nominallya member ofour body. Point. Fatheris forgiving, for he didn't allow theleopardess to harm Masters, evenafter the youth's attempt at ;killinghim. And he has said that the captainmay as well release Masters from thebrig, for ohe fears nothing, and ourcriminal code is beneath his comprehension. He is sure that Masterswon't try again. Therefore, why notforget about his stealing a gun fromthe ship's storeroom and let himloose? We are using force to get ourgoal of punishment, and that is notnecessary, for according to the lawsof psychodynamicsowhich he hasworked out during ten thousandyears of solitude, a persan who usesviolence as a means to an -end -is selfpunished, is robbed of a portion ofhis powers. Even his original act ofgetting the ship down here has hurthim so much that it will be sometime before he recovers the full useof his psychic energies.

"I enter a plea that we accept hisoffer. There can be no harm becausehe wishes to °go as a passenger.Though I, Ofcoufse, possess nopersonal funds, I will write out anauthorization on the Order for histicket. And I will take his place uponAbatos while he is gone.

"Remember, too, that the decision of this· particular Council willnot commit the Church to accept his

FATHER

offer. We will merely pUt him underour patronage for a time."

"Antithesis.""I have a blanket statement that

will answer most of thesis's points.That is, that the worst evil is thatwhich adopts the lineaments ofgood,so that one has to look hard to distinguish the true face beneath themask. Father undoubtedly learnedfrom the Hoyle survivor our code ofethics. He has avoided close contactwith us so we may not get a chanceto study his behavior in detail.

"However, these are mostly speculations. What can't be denied is thatthis act of resurrection is a drug, themost powerful and insidious thatmankind has ever been exposed to.Once one has known the ecstasiesattendant upon it, one wishes formore. And as the number of suchacts is limited to the number of deadavailable, one wishes to enlarge theranks of the dead so that one mayenjoy more acts. And Father's set-uphere is one that 'combines the maximum of temptation with the maximum of opportunity.' Once a manhas tasted the act, he \vill seriouslyconsider turning his world in to onelike Abatos.

"Do we want that? I say no. Ipredict that if Father leaves here, hewill open the way to such a possibility. Won't each man who has thepower begin thinking of himself as asort of god? Won't he become asFather, dissatisfied with the originalunruly rude chaotic planet as .hefound it? Won't he find progress and

39

imperfection unbearable and remodel the bones of his creatures toremove all evolutionary vestiges andform perfect skeletons? Won't hesuppress mating among the animals- and perhaps among his fellow human beings - while allowing themales to die unresurrected untilnone but the more pliable andamenable females are left and thereis no chance of young being born?Won't he make a garden out of hisplanet, a beautiful but sterile andunprogressive paradise? Look, forexample, at the method of huntingthat the fat and lazy beasts of preyuse. Consider its disastrous results,evolutionarily speaking. In the beginning they picked out the slowestand stupidest herbivores to kill. Didthis result in the survivors breedingswifter and more intelligent young?Not at all. For the dead were raised,and caught and killed again. An~

again. So that now when a leopardessor bitch wolf goes out to eat, theunconditioned run away and theconditioned stand trembling andparalyzed and meekly submit toslaughter like tame animals in astockyard. And the uneaten returnto graze unconcernedly within leaping distance of the killer while she isdevouring their sister. This is apolished planet, where the sameevent slides daily through the samesmooth groove.

"Yet even the lover of perfection,Father, has become bored and wishesto find a pioneer world where hemay labor until he has brought it

·~

.'4B"theame..teas AbatDS. Will tthisCO ~n forev.er .until·the Galaxy willflO lol\ger.exhibit ·8 -multitude :of.world$, ~ch ·breathtakingly differcot fram ithe ·o~her, ·but -will show¥ou~Me1"fwheEe..a duplicate!of Aba~ not one -whit ·different? I warnYQU ~that that :is·one of the ·very realporils.

"Minor ·points. He is a murdererbecause he caused Kate Lejeune tomiscarry, and ..."

"Counterpoint. He maintains thatit was an accident that Kate lost herfoetus, that he had his two beastschase her and Masters out of thewoods because they were havingcarnal intercourse. And he could nottolerate that. Point. Such an attitude is in ·his favor and shows thathe is good and on the side of theChurch and of God."

"Point. It would not have mattered to him if Pete and Kate hadbeen bound in holy matrimony.Carnal intercourse per se is objectionable to him. Why, I don't know.Perhaps the act offends his sense ofproperty because he is the sole giverof life on this world. But I say hisinterference was evil because it resulted in the loss of a human life,and that he knew it would ..."

-"Point," said the bishop, somewhat heatedly. "This is, as far as weknow, a planet without true deathand true sin. We have brought thosetwo monsters with us, and he cannotendure either one."

"Point. We did not ask to comebut ,were forced."

FANTASY AND SCIENCE PlarreN

'~rder."said·the:m.oderator. "TneQuestion 'fintt, then :the formulationof the temptation, as ilaid down inthe rules. Lf .w.e 'say yes, ,and Fa-thergoes. with us, one of us must remainto 'take ollis place. Otherwise, so' heinsists, .this 'world 'will (go to wrackand ruin in his absence."

The moderator paused, then said,"For some reason, he has limited thechoice ofhis substitutes to you two."

"Point," said the bishop. "Wea·re the only candidates because wehave sworn total abstinence fromcarnal intercourse. Father seems tothink that women are even greatervessels of evil than men. He. saysthat bodily copulation involves adraining off of the psychic energyneeded for the act of resurrectionand implies also that there is something dirty - or perhaps I shouldsay, just too physical and animalabout the act. I do not, of course,think his attitude entirely justified,nor do I agree at all that women areon the same plane with animals. Butyou must remember that he has notseen a woman for ten thousandyears, that perhaps the female of hisown species might justify his reaction. I gathered from his conversation that there is a wide gap betweenthe sexes of his kind on his homeplanet. Even so, he is kind ,to ourwomen passengers. He will not touchthem, true, but he says that anyphysical contact with us is painful tohim, because it robs him of his, whatshall I say, sanctity? On the 'otherhand, with flowers and trees ..."

PAmEa

.·'~Poiat..W-hat you have told usindicates h;S aberrated nature;"

UPoint, point. You have confessedyou dare not say such a thing to hisface, that you are awed by the senseof the power that emanates fromhim. Point. He acts as one who hastaken a vow of chastity; perhaps hisnature is such that too close a contact does besmirch .him, figurativelyspeaking. I take this religious attitude to be one more sign' in hisfavor. "

"Point. The devil himself may bechaste. But for what reason? Because he loves God or because hefears dirt?"

"Time," said Tu, "time for thechance of reversal. Has thesis orantithesis altered his mind on any orall points? Do not be backward inadmitting it. Pride must fall beforelove of truthe"

The bishop's voice was firm. "Nochange. And let me reaffirm that Ido not think Father is God. But hehas Godlike powers. And the Churchshould use them."

Carmody rose and gripped thetable's edge. His head was thrust aggressively forward, his stance wasstrange in contrast to the tendermelancholy of the mask.

"Antithesis reports no change,too. Very well. Thesis has statedthat Father has Godlike powers. Isay, so has man, within limits. Thoselimits are what he may do to material things through material means.I say that Father is limited to thosemeans, that there is nothing at all

41

supernatural-about !lis so-called miracles. As a matter of fact, man cando what Father is doing, even if'ooa primitive scale.

"I have been arguing on a spirituallevel, hoping to nvay thesis with,spiritual points before r revealed toyou my discoveries. But I havefailed. Very well. I will tell you whatI have found out. Perhaps thenthe.sis will change his mind."

He stooped and picked up theIittle black bag and laid it on the'table before him. While he spoke. hekept one hand upon it, as if toenforce attention towards it.

"Father's powers, I thought, mightbe only extensions of what we humans may do. His were more subtlebecause he had the backing of amuch older science than ours. Afterall, we are able to rejuvenate theold so that our life span is about ahundred and fifty. We build organsof artificial flesh. Within a limitedperiod we may revive the dead,provided we can freeze them quicklyenough and then work on them.We've even built a simple brain offlesh - one on the level of a toad's.And the sense of the numinous andof panic is nothing new. We haveour own sonobeams for creating alike effect. Why could he not beusing similar methods?

"Just because. we saw him nakedand without a machine in his handdidn't mean that his effects wereproduceq by mental broadcast. Wecouldn't conceive of science withoutmetal mechanisms. But what if he

42

had other means? \Vhat about thejelly trees, which display electromagnetic phenomena?" What aboutthe faint humming we heard?

"So I borr·owed a microphone andoscilloscope from the engineer, riggedup a sound detector, put it in thebag. and set out to nose around. And"I observed that His Excellency wasalso making use of his time beforethe Question, that he was talkingagain to him. And while doing so,the jelly trees nearby were emittingsubsonics at four and thirteen cycles.You know what those do. The firstmassages the bowels and causesperistalsis. The second stimulates afeeling of vague overpowering oppression. There were other sonics,too, some sub, some super.

"I left Father's neighborhood toinvestigate elsewhere. Also, to dosome thinking. It's significant, Ibelieve, that we have had littlechance or inclination to do anymeditating since we've been here.Father has been pushing us, has keptus off balance. Obviously, he wantsto keep our minds blurry with toorapid a pace of events.

"I did some fast thinking, and Iconcluded that the resurrection actitself was not touched off by hisspark of genesis. Far from it. It iscompletely automatic, and it comeswhen the newly formed body isready for a shock of .hio-electricityfrom the protoplasm-jelly.

"But he ~no'WS when it is readyand tap~ the wavelengths of l~fe

blooming anew, feeds upon them.


How? There must be a tlNo-waylinkage between his -brainwaves andthe jelly's. We know that we thinkin symbols, that a mental symbol isbasically a complex combination ofbrainwaves issuing as series of singleimages. He triggers off certain pre-setmechanisms in the jelly with histhoughts, that is, with a mentalprojection of a symbol.

"Yet not anyone may do it, forwe two priests, dedicated to abstention from carnal intercourse, werethe only ones able to tap in on thewa,ves. Evidently, a man has to havea peculiar psychosomatic disposition.Why? I don't know. Maybe thereis something spiritual to the process.But don't forget that the devil isspiritual. However, the mind-body'sactions are still a dark continent.I can't solve them, only speculate.

"As for his ability to cure illnessesat a distance, he must diagnose andprescribe through the medium ofthe tree-jelly. It receives and transmits, takes in the abnormal or unhealthy waves our sick cells broadcast and sends out the healthy wavesto suppress or cancel the unhealthy.There's no miracle about the process.It works in accordance with materialistic science.

"I surmise that when Father firstcame here, he was fully aware thatthe trees originated the ecstasy, thathe was merely tuning in. But aftermillennia of solitude and an almostcontinuous state ofdrugging ecstasy,he deluded himselfinto thinking thatit was he who sparked the new life.

FATHER

"There are a few other puzzlingpoints.. How did be catch our ship?I don't know. But he knew aboutthe translator motor from the Hoylesurvivor and was thus able to set upthe required wavelengths to neutralize the workings of the protein'nonnal space' memory banks. Hecould have had half the jelly trees ofAbatos broadcasting all the time, atrap that would inevitably catch apassing ship."

Tu said, "What happened to hisoriginal spaceship?"

"If we left the Gull to sit out inthe rain and sun for ten thousandyears, what would happen to it?"

"It'd be a heap of rust. Not eventhat."

"Right. Now I suspect stronglythat Father, when he first came here,had a well-equippe~ laboratory onhis ship. His science was ahIe tomutate genes at will, and he used histools on the native trees to mutatethem into these jelly trees. Thatalso explains why he was able tochange the animals' genetic patternso' that their bodies lost their evolutionary vestiges, became perfectlyfonc tional organisms."

The little man in the mask satdown. The bishop rose. His voicewas choked.

"Admitting that _your researchesand surmises have indicated thatFather's powers are unspiritual gimmickry - and in all fairness it mustbe admitted that you seem to beright -'- admitting this, then, I stillspeak for Father."

43

Carmody's mask cocked to theleft. "What?"

"Yes. We owe it to the Churchthat she get th~ wonderful tool inher hands, this tool which, like anything in this universe, may be usedfor evil or for good. Indeed, it ismandatory that she gets control ofit, so that she may prevent thosewho would misuse it from doing so,so that she may become stronger andattract more to her fold. Do youthink tha t eternal life is no attraction?

"Now - you say that Father haslied to us. I say he has not. He neveronce told us that his powers werepurely spiritual. Perhaps, being ofan alien species, he misunderstandsour strength of comprehension andtook it for granted tha t we wouldsee how he operates.

"However, that is not the essenceof my thesis. The essence is that wemust take Father along and give theChurch a chance to decide whetheror not to accept him. There is nodanger in doing that, for he will bealone among billions. And if weshould leave him here, then we willbe open to rebuke, perhaps even amuch stronger action from theChurch, for having been cowardsenough to turn down his gift.

"I will remain here, even thoughmy motives a·re questioned by thosewho have no right to judge me. I ama tool of God as much as Father is;it is right that we both be used tothe best of our abilities; Father isdoin.g no good ·for Church or man

44while isolated here; I will endure myloneliness while waiting for yourreturn with the thought that I amdoing this as a servant who takes joyin his duty."

"What a joy!" Carmody shouted."No! I say that we reject Fatheronce and for all. I doubt very much

~ that he will allow us to go, for he willthink that, faced with spending therest of our lives here and then dying- for I don't think he'll resurrectus unless we say yes - we will agree.And he'll see to it that we arecooped up inside the ship, too. Wewon't· dare step outside, for we'llbe bombarded with panic-waves orattacked by his beasts. However,that remains to be seen. What I'dlike to ask thesis is this: Why can'twe just refuse him and leave theproblem of getting him off Abatosto some other ship? He can easilytrap another. Or perhaps, if we getto go home, we may send a government craft to investigate."

"Father has explained to me thatwe represent his only sure chance.He may have to wait another tenmillennia before ·another ship istrapped. ,Or forever. It works thisway. You know that translation ofa vessel from one point in normalspace to the other occurs simultaneously, as far as outside observersare affected. Theoretically, the shiprotates the two coordinates of itsspecial axis, ignoring time, disappears from its launching point, reappearing at the same time at itsdestination. However, there is a

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION'

discharging effect, a simulacrum ofthe ship, built of electromagneticfields, which radiates at six pointsfrom the starting place, and speeds

.at an ever-accelerating rate at sixright angles from there. These ·arecalled 'ghosts.' They've never beenseen, and we've no instruments thatcan detect them. Their existence isbased on Guizot's equations, whichhave managed to explain how elec..tromagnetic waves may exceed thespeed of light, though we know fromAuschweig that Einstein was wrongwhen he said that the velocity oflight was the absolute.

"Now, if you were to draw astraight line from Wildenwooly ~o

Ygdrasil, you would find. that Abatosdoes not lie between, that it is offto one side of the latter. But it is atright angles to it, sq that one of the'ghosts' passes here. The electromagnetic net that the trees sent upstopped it cold. The result was thatthe Gull was literally sucked alongthe line of power, following thisparticular ghost to Abatos insteadof to Ygdrasil. I imagine that weappeared for a flickering millisecondat our original destination, then wereyanked back to here. Of course, wewere unaware of that, just as thepeople on Ygdrasil never saw us.

"Now-the voyages betweenYgdrasil and Wildenwooly are in..frequent, and the field has to meshperfectly with the ghost, otherwisethe ghost passes between the pulses.So that his chances of catching an"other are very few."

FATHER

"Yes, and that is why he willnever allow us to leave. If we gowithout him and send a warshipback to investigate, it may be ableto have defenses built to combat histrees' radiations. So we represent hissole ticket. And I say no even if wemust remain marooned!"

So the talk raged for two hoursuntil Tu asked for the final formulations.

"\lery well. We have heard. Antithesis has stated the peril of thetemptation as being one that willmake man a sterile anarchistic pseudo-god.

"Thesis has stated that the peril isthat ·we may reject a gift whichwould make our Church once againthe universal, in numbers as wellas in claim, because she wouldliterally and physically hold thekeys to life and death.

"Thesis, please vote.""I say we accept Father's offer."'~Antithesis.""No. Refuse."Tu placed his large and bony

hands on the table."As moderator and judge, I agree

,,~i th anti thesis. "He removed his mask. The others,

as if reluctant to acknowledge bothidentity and responsibility, slowlytook off their disguises. They satglaring at each, and ignored thecaptain when he cleared his throat·loudly. Like the false faces they haddiscarded, they had dropped anypretence of brotherly love.

Tu said, "In all fairness, I must

45

point out one thing. That is, thatas a layman of the Church, I mayconcur in the agreement to rejectFather as a passenger. But as a captain of the Saxwell Company's vessel, it is my duty when landing uponan unscheduled stop to take on anystranded non-active who wishes toleave, provided he has passage moneyand there is room for him. That isCommonwealth law."

"I don't think we need worryabout anybody paying for his passage," said the padre. "Not now.However, if he should have themoney, he'd present you with anice little dilemma."

"Yes, wouldn't he? I'd have toreport my refusal, of course. AndI'd face trial and might lose mycaptaincy and would probably beearthbound the rest of my life.Such a thought is - well, unendurable."

Andre rose. "This has been rathertrying. I think I'll go for a walk inthe woods. If I meet Father, I willtell him our decision."

Tu also stood l:lp. "The soonerthe better. Ask him to reactivateour translator at once. We won'teven bother leaving in orthodoxstyle. We'll translate and get ourfixings later. Just so we get away."

Carmody fumbled in his robe fora cigarette. "I think I'll talk to PeteMasters. Might be able to drivesome sense into his head. Afterwards,I'll take a walk in the woods, too.There's much hereabouts to learnyet."

46

He watched the bishop walk outand grimly shook his head. "Itwent hard to go against my superior," he said to Tu. "But HisExcellency, though a great man, islacking in the understanding thatcomes from having sinned· muchyourself."

He patted his round paunch andsmiled as if all were right, thoughnot very convincingly.

"It's not fat alone that is stuffedbeneath my belt. There are yearsof experience of living in the depthspacked 'solidly there. Remenlberthat I survived Dante's Joy. I'vehad my belly full of evil. At itsslightest taste, I regurgitate it. Itell you, Captain, Father is rottenmeat, ten thousand years old."

"You sound as if you're not quitecertain." ,

"In this world of shifting appearances and lack of true self-knowledge, who is?"

VI

Masters had been released afterhe had promised Tu that he wouldmake no more trouble. Carmody,not finding the youth inside, walkedout and called him over the wristradio. No reply.

Still carrying his black bag, the"padre hurried into the woods as fastas his short legs would go. Hehummed as he passed beneath themighty branches, called out to thebirds overhead, stopped once to bowgravely to a tall heron-like bird withdark purple mask-markings over its


eyes, then staggered off laughingand holding his sides when it repliedwith a call exactly like a plungerwithdrawing from a stopped drain,·finally sat down beneath a beech towipe his streaming face with ahandkerchief.

"Lord, Lord, there are morethings in this universe . . . surelyYou must have a sense of humor,"he said out loud. "But then, Imustn't identify a purely humanviewpoint with You and make theanthropomorphic fallacy."

He paused, said in a lower tone asif not' wanting Anyone to hear."Well, why not? Aren't we, in onesense, the focus of creation, theCreator's image? Surely He too likesto feel a need for relief and finds itin laughter. Perhaps His .laughterdoes not come out as mere meaningless noise but is manifested on ahighly economical and informativelevel. Perhaps He tosses off a newgalaxy, instead of having a bellylaugh. Or substitutes a chuckle witha prodding of a species up theJacob's ladder of evolution towardsa more human state.

"Or, old-fashioned as it sounds,indulges in the sheer joy of a miracleto show His children that this is notan absolutely .orderly clockworkuniverse. Miracles are the laughterof God. Hmm, not bad. Nov/, wheredid I leave my notebook? I knew it.Back in my cabin. That would havemade such a splendid line for an article. Well, no matter. I shall probablyrecall it, and posterity won't die if I

FATHER

don't. But they'll be the poorer,and "..."

·He fell silent a~ he heard Mastersand Lejeune nearby. Rising, hewalked towards them, calling out sothey wouldn't think he was eavesdropping.

They were facing each otheracross a tremendous fringe-toppedtoadstool. Kate had quit talking,but Pete, his face red as his hair,continued angrily as if the priestdid not exist. He gestured wildlywith one fist, while the other hungby his side, clenching a powersaw'shandle.

"That's final! We're not goingback to Wildenwooly. And don'tthink I'm afraid of your father,'cause I'm afraid of nobody. Sure,he won't press charges against us.He can afford to be noble-hearted.The Commonwealth will prosecuteus for him. Are you so stupid youdon't remember that it's the lawthat the Board of Health must takeinto custody anyone who's been puton notice as guilty of unhealthypractices? Your father must havesent word on to Ygdrasil by now.We'll be detained as soon as we putfoot on it. And you and I will be sentto an institution. We won't evenget to go -together to the sameplace. They never send partnersin-misdoing to the same resort. Andhow do I know that I won't havelost you then? Those rehabilitationhomes do things to people, changetheir outlooks. You might lose yourlove for me. Probably that would

47

be fine with them. They'd say you·were gaining a healthy attitude ingetting rid of me."

Kate raised her larg.e violet eyes.to his. "Oh, Pete, that wouldnever ever happen. Don't talk suchstuff. Besides, Daddy wouldn't report us. He knows I'd be taken awayfor a long time, and he couldn'tstand that. He won't inform thegovernment; he'll send his own menafter us."

"Yeah? What about that telegram to the Gull just before weleft?"

"Daddy didn't mention themoney. We'd have been held fora juvenile misdemeanor only."

"Sure, and then his thugs wouldhave beaten me up and dropped meoff in the Twogee Woods. I supposeyou'd like that?"

Tears filled Kate's eyes. "Please,Pete, don't. You know I love youmore than anybody else in the\vorld."

"Well, maybe you do, maybeyou don't. Anyway, you forget thatthis priest knows about the money,.and his duty is to report us."

"Perhaps I am a priest," saidCarmody, '~but that doesn't automatically classify me as non-human.I wouldn't dream of reporting you.Needlenose though I am, I am not amalicious troublemaker. I'd like tohelp you out of your predicament,though just now I must confess to aslight inclination to punch you inthe nose for the way you are talkingto Kate. However, that is neither

48"

here ~or there. What is important isthat I'm under no cqrnpulsion totell the authorities, even thoughyour act was not told to me inconfession.

"But I do believe you should follow Kate's advice and go back toher fatper and conf~ss all and try tocome to an agreement. Perhaps hewould consent. to your marriage ifyou were to promise him to waituntil you had proved yourself capable of supporting Kate happily. Andproved that your love for her isbased on more than sexual passion.Consider his feelings. He's as muchconcerned in this as you. More, forhe's known her far longer, loved hera greater time." ·

"Ah, to hell with him and thewhole situation!" shouted Pete. Hewalked off and seated himself undera tree about twenty yards away.Kate wept softly. Carmody offeredher a handkerchief, saying, "A triflesweaty, perhaps, but sanitary withsanctity." He smiled at his own witwith such self-evident enjoyment,mingled with self-mockery, that shecould not help smiling back at him.While she dried her tears, she gavehim her free hand to hold.

"You are sweet and patient, Kate,and very much in love with a manwho is, I'm afraid, afflicted with ahasty and violent temper. Now, tellme true, is not your father much thesame? Wasn't that part of the reasonyou ran away with Pete, to get awayfrom a too-demanding, jealous, hotheaded father? And haven't you


found out since that Pete is somuch like your father that you havetraded one image for its duplicate?"

"You"'re very perceptive. But Ilove Pete truly."

"Nevertheless, you should gohome. Pete, if he really loves you,will follow you and try to come toan honest and open contract withyour father. After all, you mustadmit that your taking the moneywas not right."

"No," she said, beginning to weepagain, "it wasn't. I don't want to bea weakling and put the blame onPete, for I did agree to take themoney, eve!) if it was his suggestion.I did so in a weak moment. And eversince, it's been bothering me. Evenwhen I was in the cabin with himand should have been deliriouslyhappy, that money bothered mel'''

Masters jumped up and strodetowards them, the powersaw swing'ing in his hand. It was a wickedlooking tool, with a wide thin adjust~ble blade spreading out like afan from a narrow motorbox. Heheld the saw like a pistol, his handaround the butt and one finger onthe trigger.

"Take your paws off her," hesaid.

Kate withdrew her hand fromCarmody's grip, but she faced theyouth defiantly. "He isn't hurtingme. He's giving me a real warmthand understanding, trying to help."

"I know these old priests. He'staking advantage of you so he canhug and pinch you and . • ."

FATHER

"Old?" exploded the padre. "Listen, Masters, I'm only forty ..."

He laughed. "Almost got me going, didn't you?" He turned toKate. "If we do get off of Abatos, gohome to your father. I'll be stationed at Breakneck for a while;you may see me as often as you wish,and I'll do my best to help you.And though I foresee some years ofmartyrdom for you, placed betweentwo fires like Pete and your father,I think you're made of strong stuff."

His eyes twinkling, he added,"Even if you do look fragile andexceedingly beautiful and very huggable and pinchable."

At that moment a deer trottedinto the little glade. Rusty red,flecked with white tiny spots edgedin black, her large liquid black eyesunafraid, she danced up to themand held out her nose inquiringlytowards Kate. She seemed to knowthat Kate was the only female there.

"Evidently one of those unconditioned to being killed by thebeasts of prey," said Carmody."Come here, my beauty. I do believe that I brought along somesugar for just such an occasion.Wha t .shall I call you? Alice? Everybody is mad at this party, butwe've no tea."

The girl gave a soft cry of delightand touched the doe's wet blacknose. It licked her hand. Petesnorted with disgust.

"You'll be kissing it next.""Why not?" She put her mouth

on its snout.

*9His face became even redder.

Grimacing, he thrust the bladeedge of the saw against the animal'sneck, and pressed the trigger. Thedoe dropped, taking Kate with it,for she had no warning to remov~

her arms from around its neck.Blood spurted over the saw andPete's chest and over her arm. Thefan-edge of the tool, emitting supersonic waves capable ofeating throughgranite, had sliced a thin planethrough the beast's cells.

Masters stared, white-faced now."I only touched it. I didn't reallymean to pull the trigger~ I musthave nicked its jugular vein. Theblood, the blood ..."

Carmody's face was also pale, andhis voice shook. i

"Luckily, the doe won't remaindead. But I hope you keep the sightof this blood in your mind the nexttime you feel anger. I t could just aseasily be human, you know."

He quit talking to listen. Theforest sounds had ceased, overcomeby a rush'of silence, like the shadowof a cloud. Then, the striding legsand stone eyes of Father.

His voice roared around them asif they were s~anding beneath awaterfalL

"Anger and death in the air! Ifeel them when the beasts of preyare hungry. I came quickly, for Iknew that these killers were notmine. And I also came for anotherreason, Carmody, for I have heardfrom the bishop of your i9vestigationsand of your mistaken coneIu-

\

·sions ·and· the decision which youforced u~n the captain and thebishop. I came to show you how youhave deceived yourself about mypowers, to teach you humility towards your superiors."

Masters gave a choked cry,gr~bbed Kate's hand with his bloodied hand, and began half.-running,half-stumbling, dragging her afterhim. Carmody, though trembling,stood his ground.

"Shut off your sonics. I know howyou create awe and panic in mybreast."

"You 'have your device in thatbag. Check it. See if there are anyradiations from the trees."

Obediently, the man fumbled atthe lock of his case, managed aftertwo tries to get it open. He twisteda dial. His eyes grew wide when ithad completed its circuit.

"Convinced? There are no sonicsat that level, are there? Nowkeep one eye on the oscilloscope butthe other on me."

Father scooped from the hole ofthe nearest tree' a great handful ofthe jelly and plastered it over the

·bloodied area of the doe's neck.i "This liquid meat will close up the~ wound, which is small to begin with,and will rebuild the devastatedcells. The jelly sends out probingwaves to the surrounding parts ofthe wound, identifies their structureand hence the structure of themissing or ruptured cells, and beginsto fill in. But not unless I direct theprocedure. And I can, if necessary,


do without the jelly. I do not'needit, for my power is good because itcomes from God. You· should' spendten thousand years with no one totalk to but God. Then you wouldsee that it is impossible for me to doanything but good, that I see to themystical heart of things, feel itspulse as nearer than that of mybody."

He had placed his hand over theglazed eyes. When he withdrew it,the eyes were a liquid shining blackagain, and the doe's flanks rose andfell. Presently it got on its hooves,thrust a nose towards Father, wasrepelled by a raised hand, wheeled,and bounded off.

"Perhaps you would like to callfor another Question," roared Father. "I understand that new evidence permits it.- Had I known thatyou were filled with such a monkeylike curiosity - and had reasoningpowers on a monkey's level- Ishould have shown you exactly whatI am capable of."

The giant strode away. Carmodystared after him. Shaken, h~ saidto himself, "Wrong? Wrong? Have Ibeen lacking in humility, too con"temptuous of His Excellency's perceptiveness because he lacked myexperience . . . I thought. H·ave Iread too much into his illness, mistaken its foundations?"

He took a deep breath. "Well, ifI'm wrong, I will confess it. Pub..licly, too. But how small this makesme. A pygmy scurrying around thefeet of giants, tripping them up in

FATHER

an effort to prove myself largerthan they."

He began walking. Absently, hereached up to a branch from whichhung large apple-like fruit.

"Hmm. Delicious. This world isan easy one to live in. One neednot starve nor fear death. One maygrow fat and lazy, be at ease inZion, enjoy the ecstasy of re-crea··tion. That is what you have wantedwith one part of your soul, haven'tyou? God knows you are fat enough,and if you give others the impressionof bursting with energy, you oftendo so with a great effort. You haveto ignore your tiredness, appearbristling with eagerness for work.And your parishioners, yes, andyour superiors, too, who shouJdknow better, take your labor forgranted and never pause to wonderif you, too, are tired or discouragedor doubtful. Here there \vould beno such thing."

Half-eaten, the apple was dis-carded for red-brown berries from abush. Frowning, muttering, he atethem, his eyes always on the retreating shoulders and golden-red roachof Father.

"Yet ... ?"After a while, he laughed softly.

"It is indeed a paradox, John I.Carmody, that you should be considering again the temptation afterhaving talked Tu and Andre out ofit. And it would be an everlastinglesson - one that you are not, Ihope, too unintelligent to profitfrom - if you talked yourself into

51

changing your mind. Perhaps youhave needed this because you havenot considere~ how strong was thebishop's temptation, because youfelt a measure - oh, only a tinge,but neverthele~s a tinge - of contempt for him because he fell soea~ily and you resisted so easily.

"Hah, you thought you were s()strong, you had so many years ofexperience packed beneath yourbelt! It was grease and wind thatswelled you out, Carmody. Youwere pregnant with ignorance andpride. And now you must give birthto humiliation. No, humility, forthere is a difference between thetwo, depending on one's attitude.God give you insight for the latter.

"And admit it, Carmody, admitit. Even in the midst of the shock atseeing the deer killed, you felt a joybecause you had an excuse to resurrect the animal and to feel againthat ecstasy which you know shouldbe forbidden because it is a drugand does take your mind from. thepressing business of your calling.And though you told yourself youweren't going to do it, your voicewas feeble, lacking the authority ofconviction.

"On the other hand, doesn't Godfeel ecstasy when He creates, beingThe Artist? Isn't that part of creating? Shouldn't we feel it, too? Butif we do, doesn't that make us thinkof ourselves as godlike? Still, Fathersays that he knows from whence hederives his powers. And if he actsaloof, noli me tangere, he could be

52

excused by reason· of ten thousandyears of solitude. God knows, someof the saints were eccentric enoughto have been martyred by the-veryChurch that later canonized them.

"But it's a drug, this resurrectionbusiness. If it is, you are correct, thebishop is wrong. Still, alcohol, food,the reading of books, and manyother things may become drugs.The craving for them can be controlled, they may be used temperately. Why not the resurrection,once one has gotten over the firstflush of intoxication? Why not,indeed?"

He threw away the berries andtore off a fcui t that looked like abanana with a light brown shellinstead of soft peelings.

"Hmm. He keeps an excellentcuisine. Tastes like roast beef withgravy and a soup~on of onions.Loaded with protein, I'll bet. Nowonder Father may be so massively,even shockingly, male, so virilelooking, yet a strict vegetarian.

"Ah, you talk too much to yourself. A bad habit you picked up onDante's Joy and never got rid of,even after that night when youwere converted. That was a terribletime, Carmody, and only· by thegrace ... Well, why don't you·shut up, Carmody?"

Suddenly, he dropped behind abush. Father had come to a largehill which rose from the forest andwas bare of trees except for a singlegiant crowning it. The huge 0 atthe base of its trunk showed its


nature, but where the others of itskind were brown-trunked and lightgreen-leaved, this had a shiny whitebark and foliage of so dark a greenthat it looked black. Around itsmonstrous white roots, which swelledabove the ground, was a crowd ofanimals. Lionesses, leopardesses,bitch wolves, struthiursines, a hugeblack cow, a rhino, a scarlet-facedgorilla, a cow-elephant, a moa-likebird capable of gutting an elephantwith its beak, a man-sized crestedgreen lizard, and many others. Allmassed together, moving restlesslybut ignoring each other, silent.

When they saw Father, they gavea concerted, muted roar, a bellydeep rumble. Moving aside for'him,they formed an aisle through whichhe walked.

Carmody gasped. What he hadmistaken for the exposed white rootsof the tree were piles of bones, atumulus of skeletons.

Father halted before them, turned,addressed the beasts in a chantingrhythm in an unknown tongue,gestured, describing large and sma~l

wheels that, interwove. Then hestooped and began picking up theskulls one by one, kissing them ontheir grinning teeth, -replacing themtenderly. All this while the beastscrouched silently and motionless, asif they understood what he wassaying and doing~ Perhaps, in away, they did, for through them,like wind rippling fur, ran a currentof anticipation..

The padre, straining his eyes,

FArnER

muttered, "Humanoid skulls. Hissize, too. Did he come here withthem, and they died? Or did hemurder them? If so, why the ceremony of loving, the caresses?"

Father put down the last grislyarticle, lifted his hands upwards andaut in a sign that took in the skies,then brought them in so theytouched his shoulders.

"He's come from the heavens?Or· he means he identilies himselfwith the sky, the whole universe,perhaps? Pantheism? Or what?"

Father shouted so loudly thatCarmody almost jumped up from.behind the bush and revealed himself. The beasts growled an antiphony. The priest balled his fistsand raised his head, glaring fiercely.He seemed to be gripped with anger. He looked like a beast of prey,so much did his snarling face re"semble the assembled animals'. They,too, had been seized with fury. Thebig cats yowled. The pachydermstrumpeted. The cow and bearsbellowed. The gorilla beat her chest.The lizard hissed like a steamengIne.

Again Father shouted. The spellthat held them in restraintwasshattered. En masse, the packhurled itself upon the giant. Without resistance, he went down beneath the heaving sea of hairy backs.Once, a hand was thrust above thescreaming m~lee, making a circularmotion as if it were still carryingout the prescribed movements of aritual. Then it was engulfed in a

53

lioness' mouth, and the spurtingstump fell back.

Carmody had been groveling inthe dirt, his fingers hooked into thegrass, obviously restraining himselffrom leaping up to join the slaughter. At the moment he saw Father'shand torn off,. he did rise, but hisfacial expression was different.Fright showed on it, and horror. Heran off into the woods, doubledover so the bush would concealhim from the chance gaze of theanimals. Once, he stopped behind atree, vomited, then raced off again.

Behind him rose the thunder ofthe blood-crazed killers. -

VII

The enormous melon ..stripedmoon rose shortly after nightfall. Itsbright rays glimmered on the hemisphere of the Gull and on the whitefaces gathered at the meadow's edge.Father John walked out of the forest's darkness. He stopped andcalled out, "What is the matter?"_Tu disengaged himself from the

huddled group. He pointed at theopen main port of the ship, fromwhich light streamed.

Father John gasped, "Him? AI-ready?"

The majestic figure stood motionless at the foot of the portable steps,waiting as if he could stand there patiently for another ten thousandyears.

Tu's voice, though angry, wasedged with doubt.

"The bishop has betrayed us! He's

54

told him of the law that we mustaccept him and has given himpassage money!"

"And what are you going to doabout it?" said Carmody, his gravelly voice even rougher than usual.

"Do? What else can I do but takeAim on? Regulations require it.. If Irefuse - why, why, I'd lose mycaptaincy. You know that. The mostI can do is put off leaving until dawn.The bishop may have changed hismind by then."

"Where is His Excellen~y?"

"Don't Excellency that traitor.He's gone off into the woods andbecome another Father."

"We must find him and save himfrom himself!" cried Carmody.

"I'll go with you," said Tu. "I'dlet him go' his own way to hell, except that the enemies of our Churchwould mock us. My God, a bishop,too!"

Within a few minutes, the twomen, armed with flashlights, shipfinders and sonobeams, walked into'the forest. Tu also wore a pistoLThey went alone because the padredid not want to expose his bishop tothe embarrassment that would be hisif confronted by a crowd" of angrymen. Moreover, he thought they'dhave a better chance of talking himback into his senses if just his oldfriends were there.

"Where in hell could we findhim?" groaned the captain. "God,it's dark in here. And look at thoseeyes. There must be thousands."

"The .beasts know something


extraordinary is up. Listen, thewhole forest's awake."

"Celebrating a change of reign.The King is dead; long live theKing. Where could he be?"

"Probably the lake. That's theplace he loved best."

"Why didn't you say so? Wecould have been there m twominutes in a copter."

"There'l1 be no using the coptertonight."

Father John flashed his light onthe ship-finder. "Look how theneedle's whirling. I'll bet our wristradios are dead."

"Hello, Gull, Gull, corne in, comein.... You're right. It's out.Christ, those eyes glowing, the treesare crawling with them. Our sonosare kaput too. Why don't ourflashes go out?"

"I imagine because he. knows thatthey enable his beasts to loeate usmore quickly. Try your automatic.Its mechanism is electrically powered, isn't it?"

Tu groaned again. "Doesn't work.Oh, for the old type!"

"It's not too late for you to turnback;" said Carmody. "We may notget out of the woods alive if we dolocate the bishop."

"What's the matter with you? Doyou think I'm a coward? I allow noman, priest or not, to call me that."

"Not at all. But your primaryduty is to the ship, you know.'1

"And to my passengers. Let's go.""I thought I wa.s wrong. I almost

changed my mind about Father,"

FATHER

said the priest. "Perhaps he was us"ing his powers, which didn't dependentirely on material sources, forgood. But I wasn't sure. So I tallowed him, and then, when I wit..nessed his death, I knew I'd beenright, that· evil would cotpe fromany attempted use of him."

"His death? But he was at theGull a moment ago."

Carmody hurriedly told Tu whathe'd seen. -

"But, but ... I don't under..stand. Father can't stand the touchof his own creatures, and he exercises perfect control over them. Whythe mutiny? How could he havecome back to life so quickly, espe"cially if he were torn to pieces? Say,maybe there's more than one Father,twins, and he's playing tricks on us.Maybe he just has control over afew animals. He's a glorified lion..tamer, and he uses his trained beastswhen he's around us. And he ran intoa group he couldn't handle."

"You are half-right. First, it was amutiny, but one that he drove theminto, a ritual mutiny. I felt his mental command; it almost made mejump in and tear him apart, too.Second, I imagine he came back tolife so quickly because the whitetree" is an especially powerful andswiftly acting one. Third, he is playing tricks on us, but not the kindyou suggest."

Carmody, slowing his pace, puffedand panted. "I'm paying for my sinsnow. God help me, I'm going on adiet. I'll exercise, too, when this 'af-

55

fair is over. I loathe my fat carcass.But what about when I'm seatedhungry at a table piled high with thetoo-good things of life, created inthe beginning to be enjoyed? Whatthen?"

"I could tell you what then, butwe've no time for talk like that.Stick to the point," Tu growled.His contempt for self-indulgers wasfamous.

"Very well. As I said, it was ob-.viously a ritual of self-sacrifice. Itwas that knowledge which sent mescurrying off in an unsuccessfulsearch for the bishop. I meant to tellhim that Father was only half-lyingwhen he said he derived his powersfrom God and that he worshipedGod.

"He d~es. But the god ,is himself!In his vast egoism he resembles theold pagan deities of Earth, who weresupposed to have slain themselvesand then, having made the supremesacrifice, resurrec ted themselves.Odin, for instance, who hung himself from a tree."

"But he wouldn't have heardof them. Why would he imitatethem?"

"He doesn't have to have heardof our Earth myths. After all, thereare certain religious rites and symbols that are universal, that sprangup spontaneously on a hundred different planets. Sacrifice to a god,communion by eating the god, sowing and reaping ceremonies, theconcept of being a chosen people,the symbols of the circle and the

.,6

::;·cross. ·So Father may have broughtthe idea from his home world. OrIJe may have thought it up as thehighest possible act he was capable.of. Man must have a religion, evenif it consists of worshipping himself.

uAlso, don't forget that his ritual,like most, combined religion withpracticality. He's ten millepnia oldand has preserved his longevity bygoing from time to time into thejelly tree. He thought he'd be goingwith us, that it'd be some timebefore he could grow a tree on analien world. A rejuvenation treat..ment is part of the re-creation, you·know. The calcium deposit in yourvascular system, the fatty depositsin your brain cells, the other degenerations that make you old, areleft out of the process. You emergefresh and young from the tree."

"The skulls?""The entire skeleton isn't neces'"

sary for the re-creation, though it'sthe custom to put it in. A sliver ofbone is enough, for a single cell contains the genetic pattern. You see,I'd overlooked something. That wasthe problem of how certain animalsmay be conditioned into being~illed by the carnivores. If theirflesh is rebuilt around the bonesaccording to the genetic recordalone, then the animal should bewithout memory of its previous life.Hence, its nervous system wouldcontain no conditioned reflexes. Butit does. Therefore, the jelly mustalso reproduce the contents of theneural system. How? I surmise that

FANTASY AND SCIENCE ncnoN

at the very .,moment af dying thenearest jelly-deposit records the total wave output of the cells, includ...ing the complex of waves radiatedby the 'knotted' molecules of thememory. Then it reproduces it.

"So, Father's skulls are left out-·side, and when he rises, he is greetedwith their sight, a most refreshingvision to him. Remember, he kissedthem during the sacrifice. Heshowedhis love for himself. Life kissingdeath, knowing he had conquereddeath."

"Ughl""Yes, a~d that is what will hap

pen to the Galaxy if Father leaveshere. Anarchy, a bloody battle untilonly one person is left to eachplanet, stagnation, the end of sentient life as we know, no goal ...Look, there's the lake ahead!"

Carmody halted behind a tree.Andre was standing by the shore,.hi~ back turned to them. His headwas bent forward as if in prayer ormeditation. Or perhaps grief.

"Your Excellency," said the padresoftly, stepping out from behind thetree.

Andre started. His hands, whichmust have been placed together onhis chest, flew out to either side.But he did not turn. He sucked in adeep breath, bent his knees, anddived into the lake.

Carmody yelled, "No!" andlaunched himself in a long flat dive.Tu was not long behind him butstopped short of the edge. Hecrouched there while the little waves

PA"tIIER

caused :hy the· .'disappearance .of lthetwo spread, ,then subsided .into -littlerings, moonlight ,haloed ·on a darkflat mirror. He removed his coat andshoes but .still did .not .leap in. Atthat moment ahead .broke the sur"face and 'a :loud whoosh sounded asthe .man itook in a deep breath.

Tu called, "Carmody? Bishop?"The other sank again. Tu jumped

in, disappeared. A minute passed.Then three heads -emerged simul..taneously. Presently, the captainand the little priest stood gaspingabove the limp form of Andre.

"Fought me," said Car"morly hoarsely, his chest rising andfalling quickly. "Tried push me off.So . . . put my thumbs behind hisears ... where jaw meets ...squeezed ... went limp but don'tknow if he'd breathed water orI'd made him unconscious orboth . . . no time talk now . . ."

The priest turned the bishop overso he was face downward, turnedthe head to one side, and straddledthe back on his knees. Palms placedoutwards on the other's shoulders,he began the rhythmic pumping hehoped would push the water out andthe breath in.

"How could he do it?" said Tu.".How could he, born and raised inthe faith, a consecrated and re"spected bishop, betray us? Who'dhave thought it? Look what he didfor the Church on Lazy Fair; he wasa great man. And how could he,knowing all it meant, try to killhimself?"

51·"~Shut your damn mouth," re"

'plied :Gatmody, harshly. "Were youexposed to :/1is temptations? Whatdo you know of .his agonies? Quitjudging him. :Make yourself ·useful.Give ·me a count by your watchso I can adjust my pumpings.Here we ·.go. One. .. . two . . .three ...'"

Fifteen minutes later, the bishopwas able to sit up and hold his headbetween his hands. Tu had walkedoff a little distance and stood there,back turned to them. Carmodyknelt down and said, "Do youthink you can walk now, Your Excellency? We ought to get out ofthis forest as quickly as possible. Ifeel danger in the air."

"There's more than just danger.There's damnation," said Andrefeebly.

He rose, almost fell, was caughtby the other's strong hand.

"Thank you. Let's go. Ah, oldfriend, why didn't you let me sinkto the bottom and die where hewould not have found my bones andno man would have known of mydisgrace?' ,

"It's never too late, Your Ex"cellency. The fact that you regretted your barg~in and weredriven by remorse ..."

"Let's hurry back before -it doesbecome too late. Ah, I.feel the sparkof another life being born. Youknow how it is, John. It glows andgrows and flares until it fills yourwhole body and you're about toburst with fire and light. This one is

58

powerful. It must be in a nearbyt~ee. Hold me, John. If I go intoanother seizure, drag me away, nomatter how I fight.

"You have felt what I did, youseem to be strong enough to fightagainst it, but I have fought againstsomething' like it all my life andnever revealed it to anyone, evendenied it in my prayers - the worstthing I could do - until the toolong-punished body took over andexpressed itself in my illness. Now Ifear that ... Hurry, hurry!"

Tu grabbed Andre's elbow andhelped Carmody propel him onwards through the darkness, lit onlyby the priest's beam. Overhead wasa solid roof of interlacing branches.

Something coughed. Theystopped, frozen.

"Father?" whispered Tu."No. His representative, I fear."Twenty yards away, barring their

path, crouched a leopardess, spottedand tufted, five hundred poundsready to spring. Its green eyesblinked, narrowing in the beam; itsround ears were cocked forward.Abruptly, it rose and stalked slowlytowards them. It moved \vith acomic mixture of feline grace andoverstuffed waddle. At another timethey might have chuckled at thiscreature with its fat sheathing itsspring-steel muscles and its saggingswollen belly. Not now, for it could- and probably would - tear themto bits.

Abruptly, the tail, .which- hadbeen moving gently back and forth,


stiffened out. It roared once, thensprang at Father John, who hadstepped out in front of Tu andAndre. -

Father John yelled. His flashlightsailed through the air and -into thebrush. The big cat yowled andbounded off. There were two sounds:a large body crashing through thebushes and Father John cursingheartily, not with intended blasphemy but for the sake of an intenserelief.

"What happened?" said Tu. "Andwhat are you doing there, down on

, your knees?""I'm not praying. I'll save that

for later. This perilous flashlightwent out, and I can't find it. Getdown here and help me and be useful. Get your hands dirty for once;we're not on your perilous vessel,you know."

"What happened?""Like a cornered rat," groaned

Carmody, '-'I fought. Out of sheerdesperation I struck with my fistand accidentally hit it on its nose.I couldn't have done better if I'dplanned it. These beasts of prey arefat and lazy and cowardly after tenthousand years of easy living onconditioned victims. They have noreal guts. Resistance scares them.This one would not have attacked ifit had~'t been urged by Father,I'm sure. Isn't that so, Your Excellency?"

"Yes. He showed me how to control any animal on Abatos any"where. I'm not advanced enough as

FATHER

yet ,to-recognize the individual whenshe's out of sight and transmit men.tal commands, 'but I can do so atclose range."

"cAb, I've found this doubly perilous flashlight.'"'

Carmody turned the beam onand rose. "Then I was wrong inthinking my puny fist had driven offthat monster? You instilled panicin it?"

":No. 'I canceled out Father'swavelengths and left the cat on itsown. Too late, of course - once ithad 'begun an attack, its instinctwould :urge it on. -We owe its flightto your courage."

"If my 'heart would stop hammering'so hard, I~d believe more in mycourage. Well, let's go. Does YourExcellency feel stronger?"

-'~I'll keep up with any -pace youset. And don't use the title. Myaction in -defying the QuestionCouncil's decision constituted anautomatic -resignation. You knowthat."

'~I know -only -what Tu has toldme rF-ather told ·him."

They walked on. Occasionally,Carmody flashed his light behindhim. While -doing this he becameaware that the leopardess or one ofits sisters was following them bysome forty yards.

"We are not alone," he said.Andre said nothing, and Tu, misunderstanding .him, began to prayin a very low voice. Carmody didnot elucidate but urged them towalk faster.

-59Suddenly, the shadow of the for"

est fell awa-ybefore the -brightnessof the mOOD. There was still a crowdon the meadow, but it was awayfrom the edge, gathered beneaththe curve of the ship. Father wasnot in sight.

"Where is he?" called FatherJohn. An echo answered from themeadow's other side, followed atonce by the giant's appearance in themain port. Stooping, Father walkedthrough it and down the steps tothe ground, there to resume hismotionless vigilance. .

Andre muttered, "Give mestrength."

-Carmody spoke to the -captain."You must make a choice. Do whatyour faith and intelligence tell youis best. Or obey the regulations ofSaxwell and the Commonwealth.Which is it to be?"

Tu was rigid and silent, cast intothought like bronze. 'Without waiting fora reply, Carmody started towalk towards the ship. Halfwayacross the meadow, he stopped andraised clenched fists and cried, "Nouse trying that panic trick on us,Father! Knowing what you are doing-, and how, we may fight againstit, for we are men!"

His words were lost to the peoplearound the ship. They were yellingat each other and scrambling for aplace on the steps so they could getinside. Father must have evoked abattery of waves from the surround...ing trees, more powerful than anything used before. It -struck like a

60

tidal wave, carrying all before it.All except Carmody and Andre.Even Tu broke and ran for theGull.

"John," moaned the bishop. "I'msorry. But I can't stand it. Not thesubsonics. No. The betrayal. Therecognition of what I've been fighting against since manhood. It's nottrue that when you first see the faceof your unknown enemy you havethe battle half-won. I can't stand it.The need I have for this damnablecommunion ... I'm sorry, be'"lieve me. But I must ..."

He whirled and ran back into theforest. Carmody chased after him,shouting, but his short legs werequickly outdistanced. Ahead of him,out of the darkness, came a coughingroar. A scream. Silence.

Unhesitatingly, the priest plungedon, his light stabbing before him.When he saw the cat crouchingover the crumpled form, one gray'"furred paw tearing at its victim'sgroin, he shouted again and charged.Snarling, the leopardess arched itsback, seemed ready to rear on itshind legs and bat at the man withits bloodied claws, then roared,turned, and bounded away.

It was too late. There'd be nob~inging back of the bishop thistime. Not unless . • .

Carmody shuddered and liftedthe sagging weight in his arms andstaggered back "across the meadow.He was met by Father.

"Give me the body," thunderedthe voice.


"No! You'll not put him in yourtree. I'm taking him back to theship.- After we get home, we'll givehim a decent burial. And you mightas ·well quit broadcasting your panic.I'm angry, not scared. And we'releaving in spite of you, and we'renot taking you. So do your damnedest!"

Father's voice became softer. Itsounded sad and puzzled.

"You do not understand, man. Iwent aboard your vessel and into thebishop's cabin and tried to sit downin a chair that was too small for me.I had to sit on the cold and hardfloor, and while I waited I thoughtof going out into vast and emptyspace again and to all the manystrange and uncomfortahIe andsickeningly undeveloped worlds. Itseemed to me that the walls weregetting too close and were collapsingin upon me. They would crush me.Suddenly, I knew I could not enduretheir nearness fOf any time at all,and that, though our trip would beshort, I'd soon be in other too...smallrooms. And there would be many ofthe pygmies swarming about me,crushing each other and possibly mein an effort to gape at me, to touchme. There would be millions of them,each trying to get his dirty Iittlehairy paws on me. And I thought ofthe planets crawling with uncleanfemales ready to drop their litters ata moment's notice and all the at...tendant uncleanlinesses. And themales mad with lust to get themwith child. And the ugly cities stink...

FATHER

ing with refuse. And the deserts thatscab those neglected worlds, the diso'rder, the chaos, the uncertainty. Ihad to step out for a moment tobreathe again the clean and certainair of Abatos. It was then that thebishop appeared."

"You were terrified by the thoughtof change. I would pity you, exceptfor what you have done to him,"said Carmody, nodding down at theform in his arms.

"I do not want your pity. Afterall, I am Father. You are a man whowill crumble into the dust forever.But do not blame me. He is dead because of what he was, not because ofme. Ask his real father why he didnot give him love along with hisblows and why he shamed him without justifying why he should beshamed and why he taught him toforgive others but not himself.

"Enough of this. Give me him. Iliked him" could almost stand histouch. I will raise him to be mycompanion. Even I want someoneto talk to who can understand me."

"Out of the way," demandedCarmody. "Andre made his choice.He trusted me to take care of him,I know. I loved the man, though Idid not always approve of what hedid or was. H'e was a great man, evenwith his weakness. None of us cansay anything against him. Out ofthe way, before I commit the violence which you say you so dread butwhich does not keep you from sending wild beasts to bring about yourwill. Out of the way!" ,

61'

" You do not understand," mur-mur~d the giant, one hand pullinghard upon his beard. The black,silver-splintered eyes stared hard,but he_did not lift his hand againstCarmody. Within a minute, thepriest had carried his burden intothe Gull. The port shut softly, butdecisively, behind him.

Some time later, Captain Tu, having disposed of his major duties intranslating the ship, entered thebishop's cabin. Carmody was there,kneeling by the side of the bed thatheld the corpse.

"I ,vas late because I had to takeMrs. Recka's bottle away from herand lock her up for a while," heexplained. He paused, then, "Pleasedon't think I'm hateful. But rightis right. The bishop killed himselfand doesn't deserve burial in consecrated ground."

"How do you know?" repliedCarmody, his head still bent, his lipsscarcely moving.

"No disrespect to the dead, butthe bishop had power to control thebeasts, so he must have ordered thecat to kill him. I t was suicide."

"You forget that the panic waveswhich Father caused in order to getyou and me quickly into the shipalso affected, any animals in the area.The leopardess may have killed thebishop just because he got in theway of her flight. How are we tokno,v any different?

"Also, Tu; don't forget this. Thebishop may be a martyr. He knew

62

that the one thing that would forceFather to stay on Abatos would befor himself to die. Father would nothe able to endure the "idea of leavinghis planet fatherless. Andre was theonly one among us that could takeover the position Father had vacated.He was ignorant at that time, ofcourse, that Father had changed hismind because of his sudden claustrophobia.

All the bishop could know wasthat his death would chain Fatherto Abatos and free us. And if he de...


liberately slew himself by meansof the leopardess, does that makehim any less a martyr? Women havechosen death rather than dishonorand been canonized.

"We shall never know the bishop'strue motive. We'll leave knowledgeof that to Another.

"As for the owner of Abatos, myfeeling against him was right. Nothing he said was true, and he was asmuch a coward as any of his fat andlazy beasts. He was no god. He \vasthe Father ... of Lies."

Sileot, upon two peaks ..

In the Fo~eign Press Cluo masked hall at Rome's historic Mattoi Palace,actress Gina Lollohrigida won an award as... "Space Girl of I9J4. ,. Associated Press, Fehruary 22, I9JJ.

As everyone gets in the actTo seize tomorrow for today's publicity,What other spacemaid is, with such felicity,So round, so firm, so fully packed?

Space, \vhich once seemed a vacuum-hollow,Has now been plumply filled by Lollo.Than any man-made vacuum frigider,It now may glow with warmth from Brigida.

At such a choice all BEMs rejoice;Come, fellow BEMs, and carol with full voice:Where a new planet swims within our ken,\Ve bear the symbol of Breast-Eager Men.

HERMAN W. MUDGETT

It wotlrtd be presumptuous even to attempt to introduce :the: .peerless OgdenNash. Let me say only that America's favorite verN-satirist here reveals,in a poem never hefore puhlished anywhere, surprising nlw fIKets of his art,and displays an unexpectedly aucte knowledge of true murder in a horrorhallad suggesting nothing so much as a twentieth century companion pieceto Thomas Hood'] nightmare, J:he Dream of Eugene Aram.

~ erale of the erhirteenth Floorby OGDEN NASH

The hands of the clock were reaching highIn an old midtown hotel;I name no name, but its sordid fameIs table talk in Hell.I name no name,·but ·Hell's own flameIllumes the lobby garish,A gilded snare just off Times SquareFor the virgins of the parish.

The revolving door swept the grimy floor.Like a crinoline grotesque,And a lowly bum from an ancient slumCrept furtively past the desk.His footsteps sift into the liftAs a knife in the sheath is slipped,Stealthy and swift into the liftAs a vampire into a crypt.

Old Maxie, the elevator boy,Was reading an ode by Shelley,But he dropped the ode as it were a toadWhen the gun jammed into his belly.There came a whisper as soft as mudIn the bed of an old canal:"Take me up to the suite of Pinball Pete,The rat who betrayed my gal."

63

PANTASYAND SCIENCE FICTION

The lift doth rise with groans and sighsLike a duchess for the waltz,Then in middle shaft, like a duchess daft,It changes its mind and halts.The bum bites lip as the landlocked shipDoth neither fall nor rise,But Maxie the elevator boyRegards him with burning eyes."First to explore the thirteenth floor,"Says Maxie, "would be wise."

Quoth the bum, "There is moss on your double cross,I have been this ,vay before,I have cased the joint at every point,And there is no thirteenth floor.The architect he skipped directFrom twelve unto fourteen,There is twelve below and fourteen above,And nothing in between,For the vermin who dwell in this hotelCould never abide thirteen."

Said Max, "Thirteen, that floor obscene,Is hidden from human sight;But once a year it doth appear,On this Walpurgis night.Ere you peril your soul in murderer's role,Heed those who sinned of yore;The path they trod led away from God,And onto the thirteenth floor,Where those they slew, a grisly crew,Reproach them forevermore.

"We are higher than twelve and below fourteen,"Said Maxie to the bum,"And the sickening draft that taints the shaftIs a whiff of kingdom come.The sickening draft that taints the shaftBlows through the devil's door!"And he squashed the latch like a fungus patch,And revealed the thirteenth floor.

A TALE OF 'THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR

It was cheap cigars like lurid scarsThat glowed in the. rancid gloom,The murk was·a-boil with fusel oilAnd the reek of stale perfume.And round and round there dragged ~nd woundA loathsome conga chain,The square and the hep in slow lock step,The slayer and the slain.(For the souls of the victims ascend on high,But their bodies below remain.)

The clean souls fly to their home in the sky,But their bodies remain belowTo pursue the Cains who emptied their veinsAnd harry them to and fro.When lif~ is extinct each corpse is linkedTo its gibbering murderer,As a chicken is bound with wire aroundThe neck of a killer cur.

Handcuffed to Hate come Doctor Waite(He tastes the poison now),And Ruth and Judd and a head of bloodWith horns upon its brow.Up sashays Nan with her feathery fanFrom Floradora bright;She never hung for Caesar Young,But she's dancing with him tonight.

Here's the bulging hip and the foam-flecked lipOf the mad dog, Vincent ColI,And over there that ill-met pair,Becker and Rosenthal.Here's Legs and Dutch and a dozen suchOf braggart bullies and brutes,f\nd each one bends 'neath the \veight of friends'Vho are \vearing concrete suits.

No,,, the damned make way for the double damned\Vho emerge with shutRing paceFrom the nightmare zone of persons unkno\\rn,

65

66 FANTASY AND SCIENCE: FICTION

With neither name nor face.And poor Dot King to one doth cling,Joined in a ghastly jig,While Elwell doth jape at a goblin shapeAnd tickle it with his wig.

See Rothstein pass like breath on a glass,The original Black Sox kid;He riffles the pack, riding piggybackOn the killer whose name he hid.And smeared like brine on ~ slavering swine,Starr Faithful, once so fair,Drawn from the sea to her debauchee,'Vith the salt sand in her hair.

..-\nd still they come, and from the bumThe icy sweat doth spray;His white lips scream as in a dream,"For God's sake, let's away!If ever I meet with Pinball PeteI will not seek his gore,Lest a treadmill grim I must trudge with himOn the hideous thirteenth floor."

"For you I rejoice," said Maxie's voice,"And I bid you go in peace,But I am late for a dancing dateThat nevermore will cease.So remember, friend, as your way you wend,That it would have happened to you,But I turned the heat on Pinball Pete;You see-l had a daughter, too!"

The bum reached out and he tried to shout,But the door in his face was slammed,And silent as stone he rode down aloneFrom the floor of the double damned.

LOOK HERE ••• WHAT HAS BE

come of David Merriman?"They had asked this so often;

but just tonight it seemed a goodthing to go and find out. For theymissed Merriman. They missed hisvitality and his good humour, andhis preposterous habit of rushingaway on by-issues, whatever subject was in discussion, like a riverin full spate, and having to bedammed and dammed for it'

Up till six weeks ago, Merrimanwas accessible \vhenever they wantedhim, any or all of them; but lately,queer rumours \vere about; for hehad not disappeared, after the fashion of Waring and other mysteriousvictims of the Wanderlust-

Every reader, I trust, knows G. B. Stern's novels of the fllscinl/lting Ra~nit(

family and her delightfully ramhling memoirs of her own 111m more fascinating family and friends. But her skilful short stories are 100 little known,and hardly anyone - not even such a scholar as Everett F. Bleiler in hisCHECKLIST OF FANTASTIC LITERATURE - seems aware that she has writtenfantasies. Best of them, to my taste, is this tantali(ing story of glowinglllovely twin sisters, rhapsodic gypsy music . . • and the strange powers of abottle of Slivovitz.

Geminiby G. B. STERN

ent in London, in his rooms; exceptfor one month when he had impulsively quitted them without leavinga clue as to his whereabouts. I twassocially that he had given his comrades the slip. And then, these puzzling reports: "They say he's chuckedhis job on the Gazette. They sayhe's turned analytical chemist ...something of that sort; they sayhe's hunting for the elixir of youth- as though Vardaroff hadn't already obligingly found it for us;they say he potters about all dayand most of the night in his dressinggown, with a ju.ogle of beard on hisface, pouring things out of bottles;they say he smashes the bottles andthat his roon1S are a heap of brokenglass; they say he \von't see anyone,

"What's become a/Waring that he's looking; .. Dh they say,Since he gave us all the slip?" .

they say, and they say ..."- Corporeally, he \vas still pres- "Come on. I'm sick of this. Let's

Copyright, 1929, hy G. B. Stern

67

68

go and rout him out; make him dressand shave and spend the eveningwith us, like a human being."

So Prentice fetched his car fromthe garage, and they went off insearch of David Merriman.

His three friends were anxiousabout him, in spite of their assumption that all they missed ,vas hisrollicking good company. The fourthman did not care. He \vas a new acquaintance brought in casually thatnight by Johnny Carfax; youngerthan the others, better dressed andbetter looking; a handsome youngster with an air of secret adventure,and not too scrupulous adventureat that! - Yau could imagine hiswearing a coat slung round his shoulders without putting his arms intothe sleeves - that type of man! Aman of easy conquest. He seemedamused at all this fuss about DavidMerriman. A sneer hung on his lips:

"If the poor beggar wants to beleft' alone to smash medicine bottles ..." For he was reluctant tobe hauled out of Prentice's comfortable chambers, having once beenbrought there. It was a blowy night,and the whisky was good, and whatdid Merriman matter, any\vay?

"Why not ring up?" he suggested.But the others took no notice.

He was the youngest, and a stranger- a rather impudent strangerand they did not want strangers;they wanted Merriman back again.Johnny Carfax wondered why hehad bothered at all \vith youngThea Strake?


What was the matter with David?His rooms were in the City; a

deserted city that night; all theempty streets were full of wind,instead of the usual hustle andcrowd. Merriman's rooms were atthe top of the house. They bangedand banged at the door, and nobodyanswered. Then suddenly came acrash - and a sombre trickle underthe door. It was too melodramaticto be true; and Theo Strake laughedat the white faces of his companions.

" That's not blood," he said, inscoffing reassurance. "I've seen a lotof blood. Smell it if you doubt me.It's - yes, vermouth; Cinzano."... But Prentice had lost his

head, and was pounding at the panelsof the door as though he hoped tosmash them. Then suddenly thedoor flew open, and there stoodMerriman, looking like a conventional illustration of the weird storiesthey had heard about him; lookinglike Lucifer fallen from Heavenwith a whack. He was unshaven,and wore his dressing-gown andslippers. But his aspect was hollo\vand hunted and wild, beyond thesemere externals. Nor did he seem aspleased at the sight of his visitors asmight have been expected from aman of such wontedly genial temperament.

"Do you want to come in?" heasked, abruptly.

"Don't be a fool, Merriman!"cried Carfax impatiently. "Do yousuppose we want to stop outside andshout through the door? If you've

GEMINI

got something to hide, sling it inthe cupboard, quick: him or her orit. We'll give you fifty seconds'grace."

Merriman shrugged his shoulders."I've got some thing to find; nothingto hide."

"Missing \Vill?"He grinned impishly, more like

the David they "rere familiar \vith."Missjng cocktail ..." he said."Come in, come in! I'm not so surethat I'm sorry to see you. This roomis mouldy with enigmas, and I'msick of groping. If you wanted toget to Hungary, Johnny, how wouldyou do it? Would you go to thestation and take a ticke t ? Wouldyou go by train and boat and trainagain? Would you? Well, that's justwhat I can't do, you see. Oh, thesplendid insolent simplicity of goingto the station and taking a ticket.And here I am - stuck! I tell you,it's driving me mad!"

Mad? ... The unswept floor ofthe room was piled high with bottles; so \vere the tables, chairs andshelves. Glasses and broken glasseswere littered every,vhere~and glasseshalf-full of pale liquids, colourless orfaintly gold, dimly green, deep wink..ing evil red. David Merriman, standing in the midst 6f this fantasticwreckage, this confusion of alchemy,standing there, a despairing djinnin a dressing-gown, brandishing hisarms and shouting; "Open Sesame!- Blast you! Open!" to an invisiblebox-office that was to take him toHungary, and left him in the City

69

of London ... What did it allmean? It was quite incredible, andquite incredibly idiotic.

- "You'd better tell us about it,David," Carfax suggested, gently.He and Prentice and Richardsonwere rather \vishing that the ne\vfellow were not looking on at thisspectacle of a disintegrated Merri-man.

"Look here," Richardson pointedout, for his spirit was the most laborious in the group; "Look here,you kno\v, Merriman, if you want togo to Hungary - and it beats mewhy anyone should! - If you wantto go . . . Look here, why thedevil don't you let Cook or Lunnor one of those fello\vs fix you up?I suppose you're after a womanover there? - da\k and gypsyish,aren't they? Not my type....But sitting about, and turning downyour friends, and drinking too much,won't take you far."

Their host burst into a shout oflaughter: "Won't take me far!" hecried. . . . And his arIns involuntarily described a series of motionsfamiliar to all of them: the flamboyant rhythm of cocktail shaking. . . in the air and without implements. So that Carfax shuddered atthe grotesque spectacle; and hecrunched a way over to the window,bits of glass snapping under his feet;there at any rate he could look out;need not watch the spectral pantomime by the ghost of a once saneand witty Merriman.

- "Won't take mefar? But I tell

7°you, it'll take me farther, when Isl:lcceed, if I succeed, than all yourCooks and your Lunns and yourwagon-lits! It'll take me as far as Iwant to go: As far as Heavenand Hungary . . . And, oh, Hor..ace, you chump, do you really suppose I'm drinking too much just forthe sake of getting drunk?" Suddenly, he seemed to perceive thatCarfax, whom he had always likedbest of the three, \vas definitely unhappy about him. "All right, Johnny,all right, all right - I'll tell you.Then you can judge. Horace won'tbelieve a word of what I say, andit'll be good fun \vatching Horacenot believing me - best fun I'vehad for weeks. I'm not sure that Ibelieve myself. . . .

"You know, in the summer, I wasrambling about Central Europe?I stuck to the smaller places; didn'tgo near Prague or Budapest or anyof the capitals; hadn't got theclothes, for one thing. At a villagein the Carpathians+ St. Rudigund,the host of the pub asked me to trysome home-grown Slivovitz; not hisown vintage; his father's. It waspretty old, he said. He only had afew bottles left. It was unusual stuff,not too sweet, with a haunting flavour of plum running through it.I wanted a bottle to take home withme. In fact, it was to be a littlepresent for Horace.... Say thankyou, Horace, even though you nevergot it! The old fellow made me paysuch a thumping pri,e that I decided not to give it to Horace.


"When I got home - do you re'"member that night when I gave adinner, and wasn't there?"

Prentice nodded. He had been.one of the guests. And that had beenthe beginning of Merriman's oddness; the beginning of eccentricrumour ...

"I was going to mix the cocktailsand. have 'em ready, just before anyof you turned up, when it struck methat I might invent a new one witha strain of Slivovitz in it. So I openedthe bottle, and shook up one glassful, for myself, just to try it; it wasby way of an experiment. I didn'tput in more than a dash of the Slivo-vitz .

" And there I was, drinkingit a~ table in a cabaret in some foreign town. There \vere gypsies playing, the real Tzigany; and I thoughtat once that it might be Hungary;Budapest, probably. I recognisedthe sort of naked piano instrumentthey have, striking at the bars withtwo little balled sticks.

"No, no, it wasn't a magic carpetor any obvious damfool wizardy likethat. I didn't fall asleep and dream,or fly through the air. I was justthere - there and not here. It's simple enough. You believe a lot ofmore absurd things every day ofyour life, Horace, only you're usedto them. You simply wouldn't believe the things that you believe!

"There I \vas, and not at all surprised. It was one of those pleasantly. irresponsible cafes where youcouldn't take your sister, and

GEl\lINI

\vouldn't if you could. Lewd andexpensive and picturesque. Well patronised, too.

"Gypsy music slithers about theroom like shining water; you can'tgather it up, or remember it afterwards, but at the time, by God, itdoes make you feel a glorious beast!I told you that there were no womenthere, didn't I? The nalne of thecafe \vas Kiss Ludo. I saw it upsidedown over the entrance. Not a joke.Kisses are common in HungaryKiss Ludo; the surname first. Presently, they brought in three enormous trays with huge silver dishcovers over them; everybody applauded when the covers werewhisked off - three girls lying thighdeep in flowers! YlJu'd have applauded, Horace -" But Merrimanglared at Thea Strake, as though hehad only just perceived that herewas an intruder; and disliked himfiercely on sight. ' ,Yes, the usualContinental cabaret surprise. Butreally pretty girls. One of them -"he dropped his voice.... Andagain his hands described the mechanical motion of shaking a cocktail, as though they had done it forso long that now they acted withouthis volition - "One of them waslovely. She reminded me of theKirschners we used to tack up onthe walls of our huts at the beginning of the War, do you remember?Swift and young and roguish. Delectable . . . ! Fair bobbed hair,very round and shining, like a goldenapple. She leaped off her tray, scat...

71

tering flowers, and ran, light-footed,straight to me; yes, straight over tomy table, and knelt on the chairbeside me. My word, I was flattered!

"She spoke a little French, aboutas much as I did. "'aiting till theroom was full of noise and music, shemurmured:

" 'Take me back. 1 am frightened.I like you, 1 love you, but I amfrightened.'

" 'Take you back where?' I asked."I was thunderstruck when she

answered: 'Back to school!'"School, she said, was about thirty

miles out of Budapest, on the plain.She couldn't quite explain to me her French was too limited, or minewas! - how she came to be on thetray and under the dishcover in theCafe of Kiss Ludo. It didn't seem tome a normal position for any pupilat a Young Ladies' Seminary, but Igathered that it was a joke; thatshe had wanted to see life; that shewas bored at school; and that shehad changed places with one Marishka, whose name occurred severaltimes in the story; that now she hadhad enough of the joke, and pleasewould I take her back? 'I like you,I love you, I am frightened' - thiswas her refrain. I wondered how shewould have got out of her scrape ifshe had found no one to like or lovewith quite so much cherubic confidence that the liking would be returned, and the love - wouldn't.Well ... There's a dash of RudolfRassendyll in us all! I picked up thelittle beauty; hoisted her on to my

72

shoulder, and staggered out withher, swaggering and shouting asthough she were my legitimate prize.That being presumed, nobodystopped us. The other two girls wereleft behind, and those gypsies werefiddling away like mad.... Theirmusic was the incoming tide, darkand flowing.... We splashedthrough, and out into the street.Two or three cars were "'Taiting onthe cobbles, and I told her to bribeany driver of them - I couldn'tspeak their language, and she could!- to take her out to wherever herschool was. Of what I should say tothe headmistress - the headmistress, mark you! - I hadn't the remotest idea. I don't kno\v now what1 would have said if there had beena headmistress; only there wasn't,as you'll see presently.

"She was still wearing her Kirschner-Girl costume, a sort of cowslipcoloured tunic of thin silk; so Iwrapped her in my overcoat. Wedrove for nearly two hours overthose mournful Hungarian plainsthat are velvety purple by day, decorated with tall yello\v sunflowersand fat ~Nhite geese. They spreadlike heartbreak to the horizon. . . .No end to them. Of course, this wasnight, and I couldn't see where we\vere gOIng.

"She snuggled down into myarms, and slept.... It's time thatsomebody disproved the continentallegend of the 'cold English.' ...Damn silly legend!

"At last we drew up at some tall

FANTASY A!'jD SCIE~CE FICTION

iron gates, obviously the entranceto quite a big garden, if not anestate.

"'I know my way now,' saidCarla. She had told me her name.And then: 'Good-bye. Thank you!'And put up her face to be kissed the scamp!

" 'Shall I see you again?'"'It depends!' She was poised,

ready to be off." 'Depends on what?' I was in a

blue funk that I should lose her al~

together ... while I waited for heranswer.

"Which, incidentally, I never got,because by then, I \vas back hereagaIn.

"No, I can't tell you how it happened. It's no good asking me. Ijust know that I didn't wake up, ortumble down the chimney, or driftin on a moonbeam. Nothing of thatsort. If the magic worked by anytalisman - and it didn't seem likemagic; it was all much too naturalbut if it had a talisman, it \\7as thecocktail ; .. because 1 was stilltightly grabbing the empty glass.

"How long had I been away ? Yes,I thought you'd ask that. I had beenaway for exactly the amount oftime I hadn't been here - not allowing for a journey out to Hungary and back. I must have beenabout an hour in the cafe, and aboutan hour and three-quarters in thecar; and I left at -let rne see, forwhat time had I invited you to dinner, Prentice? Eight o'clock? AndI was getting the cocktail ready at,

GEMINI

say, a quarter to 8. It was twenty toI I when the adventure shrank upand ended. And here I stood, gaping, with the glass in my hand, andCarla's clear laugh still in my ears,and not a blessed idea how I couldget back to her!

"It was a week before it dawnedon me that the bottle of Slivovitzmight have had something to dowith it. So I dressed as carefully asa bridegroom - for I might be going to see Carla again at any moment! and I drank some Slivovitz,neat. You would have laughed if youhad seen the way my hand trembledwhen I poured it out. I spilt quite alot of it on the table....

"And then, you know, I didn'tbudge! Nothing whatever happened!You'd have laughed still more tosee me standing there expecting tobe whisked off somehow into thefourth dimension in Hungary; butstanding on and on at my own dining-room table!

"I racked my memory for everystory of enchantment that I hadever read; and I came to the conclusion tha t each detail had got to beexactly the same - to make thesame spell work in the same way,and to the same end. So I waited tillit was a quarter to 8, and I mixedmyself exactly the same cocktailI remembered the ingredients, because I had been rather precise aboutthem, on the first occasion; I wantedto impress Dicky Foster, who's inclined to be swollen-headed abouthis private recipes.

73

"I drank.•••"It was all right, this time. I was

back again in Hungary. But no, notexactly the same place; but in some'sort of a great hall in a castle. Indeed - because I needn't botheryou with my discoveries in proper'sequence! - I learnt afterwards thatit was the inside instead of the outside of Carla's 'School.' School?The little devil! It was no more 3;

school than this house is a school. Itwas her husband's country seat;'and he \\7as a count or a field-marshal- or both. At any rate, his servants}saluted him.

"... Carla appeared, presently..She came into the hall, where I sat·disconsolate, looking at the greatantlered beasts on the walls, andwondering where the hell I was this:time, and what was going to happen,next? She came down the carved.staircase, very much grande dame,very decorous, and very decorative;and told me politely how glad shewas to welcome me, and how sorry~hat her husband was away huntIng.

"It was an unsatisfactory evening,on the whole. For she remainedchilly; not in the least like the gamine whom I had seen carried on atray in a heap of roses. She was sofrigid that I hardly dared remind:her of that escapade; nor ask her why· .she had played the trick. on me, ofpretending that she was still a schoolgirl when she was a wife? But at last,I. did call up enough courage. Shefrowned at first, bewildered and.

74

angry. Then a gleam of light brokethrough - a very pale gleam.

"'That must have been mywicked little sister, Carla. My twinsister. I am Zena, not Carla. We areso alike thatit is difficult to tell usapart.'

" 'Is she,' I enquired, my heartthumping, 'is she in the castle now?'

" 'Yes, she lives with me. I wouldlike to have left her longer at school,but they would not have her. Sheis too naughty and wild. So we aregoing to marry her quickly to afriend of my husband's.'

"After that, she wouldn't speakofCarla any more. I paid her compliments in stilted French. But Zena,who was, more formally, the Countess Janoschoza, didn't like me; Of,

if she did, she was too virtuous toshow it. So she kept me in my place.••• I might have been a vassal;they are feudal, those Hungarians!I was given refreshments; shownpictures. And still I sat there, longing and longing for Carla to come in.I didn't see Carla that time....

"How in God's name did they account for me? I couldn't account formyself, certainly. But all the peopleI met took me for granted.

"Back I came, to these rooms ofmine. Ten o'clock was striking.Forty minutes less than my last allowance of Paradise. The cocktailmight have been slightly smaller.

"You can imagine, can't you, howI spent my time after that. I darednot keep on ·going back and back.Suppose I used up all my time, and


that precious bottle of Slivovitz, onlong sedate, amiable conversationswith the Countess Zena, who was solike my wicked little love, Carla?So pretty, and so strikingly alike,but in behaviour how different!

"But I did see Carla again, onmy fifth visit to the castle. By then,I was getting desperate. On my fifthvisit, I saw Carla, and not Zena.Carla was as provocative and as im...petuous as ever - and as fond ofme. She only laughed when I demanded, with as much fierceness asI could command, how she haddared make me her buffoon on ourlast encounter?

" 'Ii: was fun!' she cried."In my between-times here in

London, in these rooms - for theyonly counted as between-times now;my new life, the life that mattered,was away on that fantastic bit ofexistence that had got loose and wasfloating aboutl- but in my between-times, I was trying to learnHungarian, so that I could rea~h amore enlightened understandingwith the twin sisters than by payingcompliments to Zena, or kissingCarla. Have you ever tried to learnHungarian, any of you? It's worsethan Chinese. Somehow, when itcame to the point, however much Iswatted, I could never rememberany more than hideg and meleg,hot and cold. 'Hot' meant Carla,and 'cold' was Zena, and I got noforrarder, and the Slivovitz was sinking in its bottle. Not a wine-mer"chant in London had ever" heard of

GEMINI

the stuff, leave alone supply it. Iconsoled myself by planning that,of course t the minute I had finishedit, I could go out to Hungary prop·erly, in a decent normal fashion,and stay there as long as I liked. Itwould be easy enough to find outthe cafe in Budapest where I hadbegun my adventures, and easyenough to discover the castle ofCount Janoschoza. Nevertheless, Iwas beginning to get worried - lotsof things were worrying me . . . Inever saw the twins together; thatwas odd. And then, neither of thesisters seemed curious about myspasmodic comings and goings; and1 couldn't explain them; the wholeaffair was so incredible, and none ofus knew enough French; and I\vasn't there long enough; and Iwanted Carla with me always. Ihad a horrible notion that Carlamight equally have said, to whateverstrange man had shot in on a cocktail~ so to speak: 'I like you, I loveyou, I am frightened!' Supposing Ilost the trick of re-entrance ! Sup·posing the power went to somebodyelse; somebody better-looking, more- more dashing, than myself? Andat the mere idea of such a rival ..•

"Gh, well, it's no good raving!"My paper gave me the chuck

at about that time. They said I wasgrowing too absent-minded. Thatwas literally the matter with me absent-minded! Soul and mind andheart were absent, and only my reluctant body dragging about here inLondon. .

75

"When I made my cocktail withthe last of the Slivovitz - a biggerdose than usual! - I reckoned itwould carry me over, to the fourthdimension or wherever it was, forabout four hours. I had quite de..cided that this time I would contriveto make a definite appointment withCarla, only coming into Hungarythe right way round, the real way.

"But I forgot!"You'll hardly credit that. But if

you'd had the same revelation ..•you'd have forgotten. It knockedeverything else to blazes.

"The revelation was just this:there were no twins: Carla was Zena,and Zena was Carla; and she thoughtshe was twins. It was her delusion.

"No wonder I had never seenthem together! They had each talkedso convincingly of 'my sister': Zenaa trifle wistfully, as thou'gh regretting' that little Carla was so wildand unmanageable and did suchfreakish things; and Carla, of Zena,rebelliously, a pout on her lips, hereyes sullen: Zena was so staid. Shehad married a year ago, when shewas only seventeen! And Zena wasso good; she never did anythi~g

bad; she would not even betray herhusband, she! ...

"I was told about this - thisgemini complex, by a charming elderly Hungarian. who spoke English,and whom I met there that night,at a dinner-party to which I didn'tin the least want to go, only I 'hadbeen tipped into the middle of it atsomewhere round the third course,

76

so that I couldn't very well rise andwalk out. But my hours were tooprecious to waste in this fashion, andI sat there hating my neighbour,and wondering where Carla was?Where did she always hide herself?Surely sh~ could be present, knowing that I worshipped her! that I,vas crazy for her! - crazy as Tzigane music stealing at night overthe plains....

"Zena sat at the head of the table.She smiled at me very graciously;but I knew she didn't like me. Iguessed the elderly gentleman whospoke English to be the friend ofCount Janoschoza, for whom theydestined Carla, because she was ripefor marriage. Ripe .•. at eighteen, Continental fashion! If only Ihad carried her off that first time,instead of bringing her home to hersister . . . to herself! But I hadbeen too dazed to realise what Ishould have done; and now I was toohelpless and hemmed in - hemmedin by that exciting duenna, a bottleof Slivovitz! What a position for alover!

"If I could only see Carla again,and get her well started for England, by the time my spell hadstopped its work - And then meether at the other end - You see,vhat I mean, don't you? No, ofcourse you don't.... Horace looksas though he'd like to take my temperature!

"The Tokay Aszubor - seventyyears old - was put on the table\vith the dessert; and the ladies with-


drew to the drawing-room. Theywere very formal, these assemblies atthe castle. It was then that I droppedinto canversation with the onlyman present who could speak English - my rival, as I rather melodramatically termed him.

"He said: 'Do you not think ourhostess is very beautiful?'

"I answered, daring him: 'Yes,but not so beautiful as her sister;as her twin sister.'

"And then he told me.". . . I was not as surprised as

you might have supposed. Subconsciously, I already had suspicions.I had never once seen them to·gether. It had always been Carlaor Zena; never Carla and Zena.

"Where I cursed my luck wasthat so often, by some whimsicalirony, I met the Zena side of Carla,who was cold and virtuous and alittle antagonistic; and so rarely, sovery rarely, I had the good fortuneto arrive just at the propitious mo·ment to meet the Carla side ofZena....

"I vowed grimly that I would waitno longer, but that the very nexttime Carla was uppermost - well,the Carla delusion, then; I don'tcare how you put it! - I wouldtake what the cocktail gods hadsent me. I needn't mind. The childhad a husband, a protector. I neededto mind when I had thought of heras the little sister - the deliciousurchin who looked up wide-eyed atthe stranger from England, and said:'I like you, I love you!'

GEf\.lINI

"I strolled out into the garden,after dinner. rhat Tokay was heavy,rich and cloying. While we sipped it,the Count clapped his hands, andgot his gypsy band in, to play for us.So my pulses were racing that night!

"Down by the iron gates where Ihad first left Carla, I met her again- on the inside, this time. She was,of course, wearing the same dressshe had been wearing when she hadsat as Zena at the head of her table.But I knew she was not Zena anymore, for she ran straight into myarms.

"... At that moment, the devilsdropped me back here. I don't kno\vwho they are, or what they are, or.why they do. it, but damn them!Damn them! The devils! Theyknow I can't get back to her. ...Damn theml

"I never saw her again. ThoughI went straight out to Hungary, bytrain and boat and train, I couldn'tfind the cafe of Kiss Ludo. Thereare dozens of Kisses - all up thestreets of Budapest. The name is ascomtnon as Smith in EnglC:lnd. Butjust this one cafe didn't exist. Nor,as far as I could discover, did thecastle of Count Janoschoza exist; noton the normal and conscious plane,anyway. I' circled Budapest at aradius of twenty and thirty andforty miles, like a hound casting. Iwent nearly frantic. I made enquiries everywhere.

"... But all that world, andall those people who d\velt in it,they couldn't be reached in the

77

direct way. Perhaps they had noindependent existence apart froman unholy cocktail.

"I wasn't going to give up Carla,though. Obviously, the next thingto be done was to go to St. Rudigund, in the Carpathians, and get agood supply of Slivovitz - all thatI could persuade the innkeeper tolet me buy. It didn't m~tter what itcost - if it cost every penny Iowned, Carla \vas \\'orth it. NotZena, you understand, \vho adoredher husband, but Carla. And ourmeetings had only been one in seven!If I had any sense· of humour left,that \vould have amused me!

"At St. Rudigund, the old chapI knew had died, and his successorat the inn had drunk all the remaining Slivovjtz except seven bottles.I paid a fantastic price for these,because I simply couldn't bother tohide my eagerness. Then I rushedhome. I dared not risk starting offfrom any other place, in case itwould only work using the sameroom, the same table, the same glass,the same shaker. Carla was waiting,and somebody else might comealong - she was like a fruit near itsperfect hour. . . . One tap \vouldknock it to the ground.

"Carla! ... If you'd heard myheart thump as I sloshed in the ingredients, careful not to waste theSlivovitz, shook up the cocktail,poured it out, and drank it ...Carla . . . Carla . . .

"Again, not a damn thing hap"pened. I stopped \vhere I \vas. ,

78

"After the first shock of disappointment, ,it struck me that thecocktail hadn't tasted quite thesame. Either the quality in one ofthe bottles, or the proportions weredifferent. How much gin had I putin, before? And just how muchFrench Vermouth? I hardly usedany Italian, the Slivovitz made thatunnecessary. A spot of lemon; adash of bitters ... Well, but aslack estimate of spots and dasheswasn't good enough. I had to remember exactly. It tasted wrong. Iknew the right shade and flavour, asit ought to be, but this agitatedtearing round Europe had shakenmy memory. How much of theFrench Vermouth? How much gin?Did I jerk -the Angostura twice orthree times through the dropper?

"It was no good," David Merriman finished, morosely. "I've beenat it ever since. No .good. I've almost given up." During t4e latterpart of his tale, he had been mechanically pouring out liquids fromthe bottles on the table, as thoughhe could not stop doing it, now: asthough he \vould have to go on mixing cocktails all his life, till perhapsaccident should slant him obliquelyon to· the recipe he had forgotten.The men who listened to the storynoticed a dark plum-coloured bottle,


square in shape, with no label on it.He poured out all that was left of it,tilting it upside down as he did so.Then, in a sudden fury, he shookand shook and shook at the cocktail,holding the shaker high above hishead, still with that hopeless rhythmof movement, as though he neitherknew nor cared any more whatwould be the result, but was forcedby some goblin Council of Ten togo on shaking cocktails for theiramusement. Finally, noticing withlistless amusement what he had beend9ing, he poured out the mixture,and nonchalantly passed the glass toJohnny Carfax.

"Try it?" he suggested. "It's theonly refreshment I can offer you.It's about the hundred and seventhof a long line. I shall have to chuckit now, as there's no Slivovitz left;and Horace, bless his kind heart,can remove me quickly to a lunaticasylum."

Carfax said: "Not in my line,thanks. I don't mind a glass ofsherry, but cocktails -" He shookhis head, and passed on his glass toyoung Strake, \vho was nearest.

"Good luck!" cried Theo Strake,and drank it off.

. . . They all stared at the spacewhere he had been standing. Theowas no longer there.

Thomas A. Meehan, hy his own account, has heen "television producer, corporation executive, laborer, instructor, student, huckster, sucker, enterprisint,husinessman and wage-slave.l· he has written in any available style ormedium from textbooks to films, s.f. to TV." (He has even appeared inF&SF before, though under a different name.) A friend points out that suchwidespread zeal and enthusiasm may well indicate that Mr. Meehanis really a HoL in disguise - and not such II good disguise at that, sincehe even looks like a furless mutation of those stellar teddyhears. Whateverhe may himself be, he ohserves the foibles of humanity with an acute eye, andhere provides us with valuahle notes on the future of spaceflight, advertisingagencies and puppetronics.

crhe Wind~s Willhy THOMAS A. MEEHAN

And a verse ofa Lapland songIs haunting my memory still.·"A boy's will is the wind's will,And the thoughts of youth are lo~g,

long thoughts."LONGFELLOW, My Lost Youth

BARNEY WADDLED IN, HIS PERPET'"

ual plastic grin on his irrestibly cuteface. "Hi, friend!" his gay .littlevoice piped.

Philip Harrington winced. I chosethat inflection, he reflected. It neverfailed to elicit a joyful response frommillions of children all over the,world. And it never varied.

Barney sat in the pneumoplush,his muddy feet dangling half-way tothe floor. The roboval reached sue-

tion tentacles to\vard the mud, itssterile spray poised. Harrington gestured it away. Torn between itsbuilt-in impulse and the humancommand, the robotic cleanser gavea tiny blue puff and short-circuited.

Harrington glanced at Barney,hoping that the puppetron hadn'tnoticed the incident. But then, heremembered, that sort of thingwouldn't bother Barney. Barney'seyes twinkled merrily at him, hisdangling feet casually splatteringmud on the chair and on the floor.

Barney had all the freedom fromparental discipline that every littleboy on Earth would like to have.He had been built that way. He hadalmost all the natural impulses of a

79

80

healthy little boy but, untroubledby. parents, never to be frustrated,untouched by the real world, thelittle puppetron had none of themore gory, curious or angry daydreams of small children.

But he had day-dreams. This hadbeen the delicate part of the design.And he had them fulfilled. That waswhat delighted millions of smallchildren throughou t the en tireworld.

If Barney -wished for an adventurein the Wild West, in a jungle, anywhere on Earth or in the space surrounding it, the International Telecasting Systet:n - through Harrington - saw that that wisQ. was fulfilled. Little children all over theworld ecstatically saw Barney (TheBarney Hour, ITS, every night) getwhatever his little puppetronic circuits could desire. Barney's perpetual grin and merrily twinklingprisms made the puppetron an idoland a wonder and The Barney Hourthe most profitable property ITSpossessed.

"Hi, Barney!" a \varm resonantvoice said with just the right note ofcheerfulness. \Vith a little surpriseHarrington recognized his ownvoice. He knew then that his unlinedface was serene, with a slight smile.He knew that with his prematurelywhite hair he appeared as just theright father-image to Barney, a forever indulgent father.

Harrington leaned forward. "Howare the Invaders from Space?"

"Cleaned up on 'em last night."


As the man did n~t respond Barneyrepeated, "Yup. Last night."

Harrington was startled. TheSpace Invaders had been budgetedto last three months. Barney's eyestwinkled merrily at him. It was notpuppetronically conceivable thatPhilip Harrington had not beenwatching The Barney Hour.

"All of them?" the ITS executiveasked anxiously.

"All of 'em," Barney repliedemphatically.

And it ,took $4,000,000,000 tobuild a space platform duplicatingthose of the Warld Council, Harrington 'thought with a sinking feeling. Not to mention the even moreexpensive rocket ship - spaceship,really - which went beyond theEarth's orbit to bring the puppetronic Invaders down to Barney'sSpace Platform. Fox less than twoweeks of story.

Harrington almost showed alarmas he thought of the budget, usedup, about which Barney couldnever know. Fleetingly Harringtonrecalled a childhood memory of abudget of many years before, in theearly days of TV. $4,000,000 - butjust across the central band of onecontinent - had been all it cost.Harrington sighed. With only colorand 3D they had been able to use"sets" and fake things. But withthe Tingle-Tactile Tube, whichseemed to delight small children andtheir' more erotic elders, it wascheaper more often than not to givethem the reaJ thing.

THE 'VI r\D'S ',,"ILL

Harrington permitted a slightfrown to crease his brow and gentlywarned the puppetron, "There maybe others, you know. Don't youthink you ought to keep a lookout?"

"Nope," Barney responded witha small boy's finality. "Got 'em all!"

Harrington looked at Barneywith a cheerful sick smile. Barney'seyes twinkled merrily at him. ITSwouldn't like this.

"Maybe you'd like to go somewhere -" Harrington suggestedhopefully "- on your own SpacePlatform, your very own -"

"Where?" Barney asked practically.

"You might -" Harrington fumbled "- find an Adventure!"

"What?" Barney asked with achild's directness.

Harrington wrenched his mindfrom the budget and back to thesmall boy's concept. "There mightbe Space Pirates!" he suggestedeagerly.

"Aw, that's old stuff!" Barneycrossed his stiff little legs.

Barney monitored the other programs, too. Took a small boy's delight in it.

Harrington had to suggest a storyline. He tried to keep the expressionof playful eagerness on his youngishface. If he didn't . . . A slightshiver ran through him.

"What would you like to do,Barney?" Harrington asked, appealin his voice.

"Oh, I dunno." Barney leaned

81

back in the pneumoplush, his twinkling eyes directed at the ceiling,dawdling. Harrington had a momentary vision of millions of youngsters\vatching Barney dawdle all throughThe Barney Hour....

"Surely -" there was a trace ofbitterness in the dulcet tones"- there is something you'd like todo on yo~r own, your very ownSpace Platform...."

"Na\v. I'm tired of that ole SpacePlatform!" Barney informed himcategorically.

$9,3 I 1,000,000, three monthsbudget! Harrington tensed in spiteof his relaxed pose. He hoped thegentIe smile had not left his face. Hecouldn't discipline Barney. Anyway, Barney couldn't be disciplined.It wasn't built into the circuits.

Harrington had just one job. Tokeep Barney happy. That was all.

He had created and welcomed thejob. That was before he had studiedthe psychology of little boys. . . .Now it \\'as up to him, Philip Harrington, Executive Vice-Presidentfor The Barney Hour of International Telecasting System, one ofthe top men in ITS, to stimulate thelittle-boy imagination of the puppetrone ... He couldn't. Hecouldn't think of a thing.

He looked at Barney. Barney'seyes twinkled merrily at him. Sometimes, he thoug~t, sometimes I wishI had ordered just a little less twinklein those prismatic lenses. Nevermind that. Think ofsomething. . . .

Barney's eyes t,,,inkled at him.

82

Harrington felt a surge of resentment. This is ridiculous! he thought.I'm reacting as though Barney werea person instead of a tangle of puppetronic circuits I ordered built.

"One of these days," he heard hisvoice say and he detected annoyance in the warm resonant tones,"one of these days, 1 suppose . . ."This is not the way to do it! hismind told him, no \\Tay to handlehis own creation! He went on," ... you'll ask me for the moon!"

Barney sat up. His eyes twinkledat Harrington. "Gee! That's wunnerful!"

"What is?" Harrington \vas startled.

"I could take all my li'l friendsthere, too." Barney enlarged. Hiswondering tones sounded ominousto the ITS executive.

"Where?" Harrington asked,knowing the answer.

"On a trip to the moon, 'course,"Barney stated matter-of-factly.

"Well- I'm afraid, Barney, thatthat would be ..." Harringtoncouldn't say imp0 ssi'ble. Technologically it was possible. And whilesmall boys occasionally had to facereality, that must never" happen tothe puppetron. Not to Barney.

"Well, Barney," the executiveparried evasively, "nobody's everbeen there, you know, and-"

"Why not?" Barney \vanted toknow, as children do.

"Because - because it would bea lot of trouble and ..." Harrington peered sharply at the merrily


twinkling prisms. No. No smallchild would understand that themonumental cost of reaching airlessuseless rock in midspace was toogreat, great enough to overrule themost roman tic of dreamers." ... and nobody ever reallywanted to go there. Not enough,anyway." That was substantiallytrue and put in terms which Barneycould understand.

"But I do!" the puppetron pipedwith triumphant finality.

"Now, Barney -" he remonstrated in his gentle paternal tone.

"Gee! I'll need a Rocket Ship.Naw, 1 got one. 'N a Space Suit.Lotsa space suits. Fer the kids andme." Barney continued, "'N a placefer our moms 'n dads to stay \vhilewe're havin' fun!"

Space suits. Insurance. Fuel. Automatically Harrington's fingersstarted punching keys on the deskcomputer. An air bubble. Artificialatmosphere. Luna City, complete.

"'N Moon Dwellers. 'N a rollercoaster. Boy, what a ride that'dbe . . . I" Harrington's mind waswrenched from the childish patter.The desk computer had almost runout of zeros. He stared. He tried tointerrupt, to divert the childlikemind.

"Barney, I have an idea. Maybeanother Rocket Ship would bemore -" ,he was about to sayeconomical "- fun!"

"Naw," Barney disagreed. "I got"one.

Harrington allo\ved a dubious

THE WIND'S WILL

note in his voice, keeping his serenesmile. "It would be a lot of - trouble, Barney," he warned.

"Aw, that's awright!" Barneytold him generously. "Gee! This isgonna be totsa futi!" He slid off thepneuffioplush. That settled it. F'orBarney.

Barney had never been deniedanything. That was what made TheBainey Hour the perfect wishfulfillment, the program that nochild in the world could resist.Barney couldn't - theoreticallybe denied anything by ITS.

But there were limits. Even forpuppetrons. Harrington hesitated,then reached a decision.

The little head just showed overHarrington's desk. Barney's eyestwinkled at him, merrily. Harrington set his jaw. "I'm afraid, Barney,"he said with grim caution, "thatwe just don't have enoughmoney. . . ." When the effect wasnot disastrous Harrington leanedback in his chair, rather pleasedwith his handling of the situation.HNope. Nobody in the world hasenough money to give you themoon!"

Barney beamed at him. "Oh, Igot lotsa money!" He reached in hispocket and h~ld out a handful ofBarneycoins. Harrington had forgotten.

Through Barneycoins ITS hadmade The Barney Hour a sponsor'sparadise, forcing reluctant parentsto spend billions in.additional sales.With a box-top of Popsi-Crisps or

83

Crispi-Pops or whatever the productwas, a Barneycoin would bring youa toy robot (humanoid), a ridablerocket, a needle gun (non-lethaltraumatic type) or whatever noveltywas being used to increase sales. ToBarney - and to children all overthe world - it was the only coinwhich had any v·alue.

"That isn't quite what I meant,Barney -" he began gently.

"You want more?" Barney askedeagerly. "I'll ask all the kids to sendme theirs!"

"No! Don't do that!" Harringtonexclaimed. He thought of all thesponsors and shuddered. Barneycoins had value - to ITS - only ifthey were spread. throughout theworld helping sales.

"You don't need any money?"Barney exclaimed gleefully. Harrington couldn't explain about othermoney to the puppetion, not without destroying the basis of TheBarney Hour. There was even thedanger that Barney would start telling the children that there wasanother kind of money. He shookhis head.

"When kin I have it?" the puppetron asked eagerly.

"What?""When kin I have the moon?"

Barney repeated patiently."Barney -" Harrington leaned

forward. His tone was firm but regretful. "I can't give you the moon,just because you ask for it."

The effec t was startling. For amoment it looked as though Barney

84

might short-circuit. Barney hadnever known, was never supposed toknow, an experience like this.

The little prisms stared at him,glazed, uncomprehending. Harrington's brow betrayed cold beads ofmoisture. "Barney!" he called .in hismost soothing voice. "Barney!" Thepuppetron turned and staggered.

"All right!" the executive calledout in desperation, "If you want themoon you can have it I Barney! I'llgive you the moonf"

Barney hesitated and Harrington's heart skipped. Then theprisms twinkleq. "Gee, that's swell!"the puppetron said in his gay littlevoice. He waddled out of the roomon his stiff little legs.

The ITS executive literally wipedhis brow. Of course there \vere duplicates in stock for any puppetronin case of accident, attuned to thecircuit of the active model. But ifthis Barney had short-circuited, allthe other inactive Barney puppetrons would have, mentally, beenthrough the same terrifying experIence.

He tried to think of a way out.There was none. -..

He would have to put through arequisition. Regardless of the consequences. For a moment Harrington thought bitterly of his dilemma.All he had to do was keep Barneyhappy - and \vithin a budget. AndITS' was no more capable of goingover a budget than Barney was ofhaving his \vildest ,vish denied.


Maybe if they could introduce justone inhibitory circuit . . . No, no,the whole basis of The Barney Hourwould be gone. And so \vould hisjob.

He finished the requisition.For a moment his mind concen

trated on the delicate tracery ofChannels. No man ever became anExecutive Vice-President withoutmastering the vast spidery web ofChannels. An executive who onceforgot a single microlength of themyriad interconnecting strands wasOut. An ITS executive had to GetThings Done. And through Channels. That was the first qualificationfor an ITS executive and, in a \vay,the only one.

Yes, he concluded, he could directit to Larry. Larry was not the manwho had advanced him through ITSand given him The Barney Hour, ofcourse. He was the man Harringtonhad helped to replace that man.

For a moment the executive'shands played upon the buttons onhis desk with a rapidity and -surenessborn of years of experience. Hestopped. He sat back in his chair,waiting. He had sent the requisitionthrough Channels.

ITS won't refuse me this, herationalized. Even though it doesrun into billions. Not after all I'vedone for puppetronics. And the waythey've publicized it.

Puppetrons had had no minds oftheir own when Harrington was putin charge. They walked and theytalked. They \vere complex elec-

THE WIND'S \VILL

tronic devices operated by highlys~il.led - and highly paid - technICians.

Then puppetronics developedthrough cerebrocrinology. The puppetrons were given the mind patinaof good little children. But TheBarney Hour still had writers,highly paid and quite often difficult.Because they had originated an ideathey were singularly opinionated asto how it should develop.

Cerebrocrinology did away withall that by giving the puppetronicdevices synthetic glands. Now thepuppetrons thought, acted and evenfelt like little children.

ITS had been excited about puppetronics. Barney was a delight, tothe audience and to the ITS accounting department. He thoughtup his own stories and played themout with Teddy the Panda, his perpetual pal, attuned to Barney's circuit. Actors, always a problem andan expense, were eliminated by various other puppetrons. At least onThe Barney I-Iour.

Harrington was the man who hadPut It Through. He had reluctantlycarried out the enthusiastic ordersof his superior regarding puppetrons,helped to oust him when puppetronics was proven a success and,naturally, received the credit. ITSshould be grateful.

With that ability to face factswhich had enabled him to rise sohigh, Harrington realized that ITSwould not be grateful. ITS, a vastspun organization, lacked that. at-

85

tribute as puppetrons lacked certainattributes.

The light on the camera - onein every office - came on. Harrington leaned forward in a relaxed butinterested position.

The wall glowed, formed a picture. Then he seemed to be lookingdirectly into Larry's office.

"Hi, Phil," said Larry with thatgenial intimacy demanded of all ITSexecutives. "How've you and Marybeen?"

"Fine," Phil replied composedly."Just fine. And Beatrice?"

"Just wonderful." Larry pausedmomentarily, smiling genially atPhil. "We must get together soon."This was the sparring period. Larry'seyes' were searching for a chink inhis armor.

"Love to." Phil replied. He wasconfident there was none. His facewas serene, he knew, his blue eyesuntroubled, the slight smile in place."Any time." There was nothing inPhil's appearance to indicate anything but routine.

"Oh!" Larry held up the requisition as though he had just remembered it. "Production sent this up tome...." He glanced at Harrington. Phil nodded slightly, serenely.Larry asked it casually, off-handedly: "The moori?"

"Yes." Phil injected a lift to hisreply, as though this were a brightsignificant suggestion. "The moon."

Larry looked at the requisitionand then again at Phil. His smilebecame more genial, his manner

86

more casual. Phil recognized thedanger signs and tensed.

"How are you and Barney Getting Along these days?" he askedpleasantly.

Phil knew it for the worst sort ofthreat. An executive who did notGet Along with people (or things),no matter how impossible theymight be, was of no use to ITS.

Phil permitted his smile to broadenslightly, become quizzical. He hopedhis own eyes twinkled now. "Thelittle fellow still looks upon me as afa ther," he assured Larry.

"Then this was your idea?"Larry's voice jabbed genially.

Phil saw the trap too late. Larryhad fixed the responsibility on him.There was no chance to maneuver orfeint - briefly, to put the blame onsomeone else. Phil saw that he wouldhave to fight it out on this line.

He allowed an eyebrow to rise."Of course," he asserted.

Larry glanced at the requisition.He shook his head slightly. lIechuckled. "Jack may grumble alittle when he gets· this • • ." hesuggested.

Phil knew what he meant. Jackwas the undisputed head of ITS.When he grumbled the delicatenetwork of ITS all over the worldtrembled in response.. "Not when he realizes the Possibilities," Phil stated serenely. Larrylooked at him now. Obviously hehad no idea what was in Phil's mind.The important point was that hethought something was there.


Larry chuckled and shook hishead. "Well, Phil, you know Jack!"he countered. " 'Money is money.' "For a moment they looked at eachother, their guards down, in mutualunderstanding and sympathy. HowJack, who never Got Along withanyone, who had the most primitiveidea of Values, whose only talentwas for collecting dollars, had everbecome head of ITS was a crypticpuzzle to both of them.

"Right after the Space Platform,too ..." Larry jabbed. He lookedup sharply. "Phil, can't you persuade Barney to use the SpacePIatform a Ii ttle longer? Or thatRocket Ship?"

Now he was caught, between thepuppet and the human. "Of coursenot!" He said it as thoug~ it shouldbe obvious. He smiled mysteriously."Don't you see, Larry? That's partof it."

Larry stared at hiin as frankly asLarry coul~ stare. At least, Philthought, I won't get a flat turndown. He can't turn me down untilhe finds out what I Have In Mind,Harrington reflected. And it hadbetter be good.

He watched Larry's thought...processes as the executive turnedfrom him to look again at the requisition, then at another sheet ofmicrofilm that had been thrust onhis desk. With a falling feeling hesaw Larry's brow clear, saw himbecome genial, even expansive.

"I'm just a little bit afraid, Phil,that we might have a little difficulty

THE "VIND'S \\TILL

pushing this through. . • ." Larrywas relishing it with every appearance of deep regret. "You've usedall your operations budget on theSpace Platform. And now -" hechuckled at Harrington "- you'renot using the Space Platform."

Phil looked mildly surprised."But this isn't operations, Larry.

This is an Investment."Larry stared at him. Phil knew

that Larry couldn't admit he didn'tknow what Harrington was talkingabout. Phil smiled confidentially,man to man.

"Don't you see what it will mean,Larry?" he urged. Larry didn't.Phil stared tensely, searching. "Themoon. Just for Barney . . ."

He stopped. A dawning look ofrealization was coming over Larry'sface. "Oh, I see!" he said, Philwondered what he saw. He had togo on.

". . . Fixed up a little, of course.So humans can stay there -"

"I think it's a wonderful idea!"Larry exploded. He looked at Harrington shrewdly, appraisingly. Philhoped he would drop a clue. "Tellme frankly, Phil. Did you have thisin mind when you requisitioned theRocket Ship?"

He had to look confident."Frankly, no. But you know howone thing leads to another. . . ."

Larry was staring at the ceiling,ecstatic. "It'll be the biggest advertising stunt the world has everseen I" he exclaimed. "All thosespace-mad kids for so many box-

87

tops of - what is that stuff?and a few Barneycoins, going inBarney's own Rocket Ship-"

"On a trip to the moon!" Philfinished in a triumphant tone ofwonder.

Larry looked at Phil, fortunatelywithout a trace of a smile. "Harring~ton," he said, and his tone wasbusiness-like, "I think you're doinga pretty good job on The BarneyHour...." The smile came backbut the eyes remained challenging."How do you like my idea?"

"I think it's wonderful, Larry.Just wonderful," he said promptlywith just the right resonant warmth,just the right amount of casualconfidence. He knew, now, that hisserene manner had not deserted himonce during the interview.

"Good," Larry grunted approv"ingly. "I'll take it up with Jack assoon as I've developed it. Probablytonight." He turned to Harrington.The business-like manner faded andthe genial smile returned. "Phil, it'sbeen great to have this little chatwith you. Give my love to Mary,will you?"

"I certainly will, Larry," Philanswered cordially. "And say helloto Beatrice."

"I'll do that. And we must gettogether soon." He added, "I mean ~

we really ought to." This was praiseof the highest order.

"Love to," Phil answered. "Anytime."

"See you soon, Phil.""So long, Larry."

88.

Barney waddled in on his stifflittle legs. "Hi, friend!" his gay littlevoice piped.. The deep lines of Harrington'sface folded into a smile almost asperpetual as Barney's. "Back soso soon?" he asked and detectedtestiness in his voice.

"Yup!" Barney wandered aim..lessly, listless and bored. Harringtonfelt his heart skipping.

"How was Jupiter?" He hopedthe eagerness in his voice concealedhis anxiety.

"Aw!" Barney dismissed it.Harrington's jowls sagged. Barney

dawdled. . . . Harrington glancedsurreptitiously at the clock. Fortyminutes to The Barney Hour. Heran his hand through his white hair,now yellow with age. Frantically hetried to think of an idea that wouldappeal to the childlike mind.

"I've got an idea, Barney. Whydon't you -" The puppetron'sprisms turned"' toward him with in-terest. Do what? "Take your SpaceShip and go to all the planets you'vediscovered in the last t\venty years.Mars, Venus, Mercury, Saturnall of 'em. And see all the moms anddads you've left there, the colonists.A real merry-go-round all aroundthe Sun! Doesn't that sound likelotsa fun?"

Barney's prisms stared at himfixedly. "Naw!" the puppetronanswered.

Harrington half-rose from hischair and his face became danger-ously red. "Why don't you take that


Space Ship of yours and .••" Theexecutive strangled his anger. Thisis only a puppetron, he remindedhimself, only a bundle of circuits!"And go • • ." He fell back in hischair, his arm making a wide helplessgesture.

"Yeah!" Barney responded with asmall boy's enthusiasm. "Gee! that'swunnerful!"

"What is?" Harrington askedquerulously.

"There're lotsa stars besides ourole sun," Barney mused.

"You - you're going out inSpace?" Harrington's voice quavered. His thin hands clenched intoineffectual fists, the blue veinsstancing out. Gently now, he toldhimself. "But you can't go fasterthan-light, Barney! We haven'tdeveloped a sub-space drive, not yet,maybe not for another 50 years.We don't know, yet, how to convert~pace and time into units of energy,although our best scientists ..."He saw from the lack of response inthe puppetron's prisms that thewords meant nothing.

He smiled an indulgent fatherlysmile. "We - couldn't be with youa~y more, Barney."

"Aw, that's awright," Barney saidgenerously.

"But the kids. They couldn't seeyou~ Barney!"

"Aw, you kin fix that," Barneydeclared. The puppetron had an unspoiled faith in the omnipotence ofthe father-image. "Gee!: This. isgonna be totsa fun! 'Bye."

THE \VIND'S WILL

Barney waddled out of the room,and Harrington went back to work.

Maybe, Harrington reflected,maybe the half-dozen spatia-temporal physicists together with asmany astrophysicists as he couldget, under narcoempathy with forcedteletransrnission, hourly dosages ofhypnohypo, constant electrostimuIus through deep probe-shafts sunk

89

in their brains, the thoughts of theircombined hyperstimulated unconscious minds recorded on the tattlencephelograph, could produce theidea in a week, two weeks . . . ITSwould provide generously for theirfamilies and Barney would have hisinterstellar drive.

He started to make out the requisition.

..~.~.....;'

"O.K. - now pass the bat's blood."

Since F&SF puhlished her first story some three and a half years ago,Zenna Henderson has received honors in many fields, ranging/rom a master'sdegree to representation in the Bleiler-Dikty BEST SCIENCB FICTION STORIES

in I9J3 and a well-earned second prize in Ellery Queen's detective storycontest in I9J4. This latest Henderson story should, I think, enhance analready high reputation.," in a different vein from anything else she's written,it's an eerie glimpse of mingled horror and beauty which may disturb yourmind for some tiine to come.

Walking cAunt Vaidby ZENNA HENDERSON

I LOOKED UP IN SURPRISE AND SO

did Ma. And so did Pa. Aunt Daidwas moving. Her hands were comingtogether and moving upward tillthe light from the fireplace had arest from flickering on that cracked,wrinkled wreck that was her face.But the hands didn't stay long.They dropped back to her saggy laplike two dead bats, and the sunkenold mouth that had fallen in on itslips years before I \vas born puckeredand worked and let Aunt Daid'stongu€ out a little ways before itpulled it back in again. I swallowedhard. There was something aliveabout that tongue and alive wasn'ta word I'd associate with Aunt Daid.

Ma let out a sigh that was almosta snort and took up her fancy workagain. "Guess it's about time," shesaid over a sudden thrum of rainagainst thedarkening parlor windows.

"Naw," said Pa. "Too soon. Yearsyet."

"Don't know 'bout that," saidMa. "Paul here's going on twenty.Count back to the last time. Remember that, Dev?"

"Awl" Pa squirmed in his chair.Then he rattled the Weekly Wadrowopen and snapped it back to thestate news. "Better watch out," hewarned, his eyes answering hers. "Imight learn more this time and decide I need some other woman."

"Can't scare me," said Ma overthe strand of embroidery thread shewas holding between her teeth toseparate it into strands. "'Twon'tbe your place this time anyhow.Once for each generation, hasn't itbeen? It's Paul this time."

"He's too young," protested Pa."Some things younguns should besheltered from." He was stern.

WALKING AUNT DAID

"Paul's oldern'n you were at hisage," said Ma. "Schooling does thatto you, I guess."

"Sheltered from what?" I asked."What about last time? What's allthis just cause Aunt Daid movedwithout anyone telling her to?"

"You'll find out," said Ma, andshe shivered a little. "We makejokes about it - but only in thefamily," she warned. "This is strictlyfamily business. But it isn't anyjoking matter. I wish the good Lordwould take Aunt Daid. It's creepy.It's not healthy."

"Aw, simmer down, Mayleen,"said Pa. "It's not all that bad. Everyfamily's got its problems. Ours justhappens to be Aunt Daid. It couldbe worse. At least she's quiet andclean and biddable and that's morethan you can say for some other people's old folks."

"Old folks is right," said Ma."We. hit the jackpet there."

"Howald is Aunt Daid?" I asked,wondering just how many.years ithad taken to suck so much sap outof her that you wondered that thehusk of her didn't rustle when shewalked.

"No one rightly kno\vs," said Ma,folding away her fancy work. Shewent over to Aunt Daid and put herhand on the sagging shoulder.

"Bed time, Aunt Daid," shecalled, loud and clear. "Time forbed."

I counted" to myself. "••. three,four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,ten," and Aunt Daid· \vas on her feet,

91

her bent old knees wavering to holdher scanty weight.

I shook my head wonderingly andhalf grinned. Never failed. Up atthe count of ten, which was prettygood seeing as she never started stirring until the count of five. It tookthat long for Ma's words to sink in.

I watched Aunt Daid follow Ma·out. You couldn't push her to goanywhere, but she followed realgood. Then I said to Pa, "What'sAunt Daid's whole name? How'sshe kin to us?" _

"Don't rightly know," said Pa."I could maybe figger it out - howshe's kin to us, I mean - if I tookthe time ... a lot of it. Greatgreat-grampa started calling herAunt Daid. Other folks thought itwas kinda disrespectful but it stuckto her." He stood up and stretchedand yawned. "Morning comesearly," he said. "Better hit the hay."He pitched the paper at: the'woodboxand went off toward the kitchen forhis bed snack.

"What'd he call her Aunt Daidfor?" I hollered after him.

"Well," yelled Pa, his voice muffled, most likely from coming out ofthe icebox. "He said she shouldabeen 'daid' a long time ago, so hecalled her Aunt Daid."

I figured on the edge of the HogBreeders' Gazette. "Let's see. Aroundthirty years to-a .generation. Me, Pa,grampa, great-grampa, great-greatgrampa - and let's see, for me that'dbe another great. That makes sixgenerations. That's '180 years ~". I

9~

chewed on the end of my pencil, afunny flutter inside me.

"'Course, that just guessing," Itold myself. "Maybe Pa just piledit on for devilment. Minus a genera...tion - that's 150'" I put my pencildown real careful. Shoulda been deada long time ago. How old was AuntDaid that they said that about hera century and a half ago?

Next morning the whole worldwas fresh and clean. Last night's spellof rain had washed the trees and theskies and settled the dust. I stretchedin the early morning cool and feltlike life was a pretty good thing.Vacation before me and nothingmuch to be done on the farm for awhile.

Ma called breakfast and I followedmy nose to the buttermilk pancakesand sausages and coffee and out-atePa by a stack and a half of pancakes.

"Well, so», looks like you're finallya man," said Pa. "When you canout"'eat your pa-"

Ma scurried in from the otherroom. "Aunt Daid's sitting on theedge of her bed," she said anxiously."And I didn't get her up."

"Urn," said Pa. "Begins to lookthat way doesn't it?"

"Think I'll go up to Honan'sLake," I said, tilting my chair back,only half hearing what they weresaying. "Feel like a coupla daysfishing."

'.'Better hang around, son," saidPa. "We might be needing you in aday or so."

FANTASY A~D SCIENCE FICTION

"Oh?" I said, a little put out. "Ihad my mouth all set for Honan'sLake."

"Well, unset it,for a spell," saidPat "There's a whole summerahead. "

"But \-vhat for?" I asked. ",",'hat'scooking?"

Pa and Ma looked at each otherand Ma crumpled the corner of herapron in her hand. ""Ve're going toneed you," she said.

"How come?" I asked."To walk Aunt Daid," said Ma.

-"To walk Aunt Daid?" I thumpedmy chair back on four legs. "But mygosh, Ma, you always do for AuntDaid."

"Not for this," said Ma, smoothing at the ,vrinkles in her apron."Aunt Daid won't walk this walkwith a ,vornan. It has to be you."

I took a good look at Aunt Daidthat night at supper. I'd never reallylooked at her before. She'd beenaround ever since I could remember.She was as much a part of the houseas the furniture.

Aunt Daid was just so-so sized. Ifshe'd been fleshed out, she'd beabout Ma for bigness. She had awisp of black hair t,visted into awalnut-sized knob at the back ofher head. The ends of the hairsp~ayed ou t stiffly from the knoblike a worn-out brush. Her facelooked like wrinkles had wrinkledon wrinkles' and all collapsed intothe emptiness of no teeth and nomeat on her skull bones. Her tiny

\VALKING AU~T DAlD

eyes, almost hidden under the crepeof her eyelids, were empty. Theyjust stared across the table throughme and on out into nothingnesswhile her lips sucked open at the tapof the spoon Ma held, inhaled thesoft stuff Ma had to feed her on, andthen shut, working silently until her~kinny neck bobbed with swallowIng.

"Doesn't she ever say anything?"I finally asked.

Pa looked quick at Ma and thenback down at his plate.

"Never heard a word out of her,"said Ma.

"Doesn't she ever do anything?"I asked.

"Why sure," said Ma. "She shellspeas real good \vhen I get herstarted. "

"Yeah." I felt my spine crinkle,remembering once when I was little.I sa t on the porch and passed thepeapods to Aunt Daid. I \vas remembering how, after I ran out of peas,her withered old hands had keptreaching and taking and shelling andthrowing away \vith nothing butemptiness in them.

"And she tears rug rags good. Aridshe can pull \veeds if nothing else isgrowing \vhere they are."

"Why -" I started - andstopped.

"vVhy do we keep her?" askedMa. "She doesn't die. She's alive.What should we do? She's no trouble. Not much, any,vay."

"Put her in a home somewhere," Isuggested.

93

"She's in a home now," said Ma.,spooning up custard for Aunt Daid."And we don't have to put out cashfor her. Besides, they'd never walkher and no telling what'd happen toher."

"What is this walking businessanyway? Walking where?"

"Down hollow," said Pa, cuttinga quarter of a cherry pie. "Down tothe oak -" he drew a deep breathand let it out - "and back again."

"Why down there?" I asked."Hollow's full of weeds and mos·quitoes. Besides it's - it's -"

"Spooky," said Ma, smiling at me."Well, yes, spooky," I said.

"There's always a quiet down therewhen the wind's blowing everywhereelse, or else a wind when everything's still. Why down there?"

"There's where she wants towalk," said Pal "You.\valk her downthere."

"Well," I stood up. "Let's get itover with. Come on, Aunt Daid."

"She ain't ready yet," said Ma."She won't go till she's ready."

"Well, Pa, why can't you walkher then?" I asked. "You did itonce-"

"Once is enough," said Pa, hisface shut and still. "It's your jobthis time. You be here when you'reneeded. It's a family duty. Themfish will wait."

"Okay, okay," I said. "But atleast tell me what the deal is. Itsounds like a lot of hogwash to me."

There wasn't much to tell. AuntDaid was a family heirloom, like, but

94

Pa never heard exactly who she wasto the family. She had always beenlike this - just as old and so driedup she wasn't even repulsive. I guessit's only when there's enough juicefor rotting that a body is repulsiveand Aunt Daid was years and yearspast that. That must be why thesight of her wet tongue jarred me.

Seems like once in every twentythirty years, Aunt Daid gets an awfulcraving to go walking. And alwayssomeone has to go with her. A man.She won't go with a \voman. Andthe man comes back changed.

"You can help being changed,"said Pa, "When your eyes look onthings your' mind can't -" Paswallowed.

"Only time there was any realtrouble with Aunt Daid," said Pa,"was when the family came west.That was back in your great-greatgrampa's time. They left the oldplace and came out here in coveredwagons and Aunt Daiq didn't evennotice until time for her to walkagain. Then she got violent. Greatgrampa tried to walk her down theroad, but she dragged him all overthe place, coursing like a huntingdog that's lost the trail only \vithher eyes blind-like, all through thedark. Great-grampa finally broughther back almost at sunrise. I-Ie waspert nigh a broken man, \vhat withcuts and bruises and scratches . . .and walking Aunt Daid. She'd finally settled on down hollow."

"What does she walk for?" Iasked. "What goes on?"

FANTASY AND SqlENCE FICTION

"You'll see, son,".said Pa. "Wordswouldn't tell anything, but you'llsee."

That evening Aunt Daid coveredher face again with her hands. Latershe stood up by herself, teetering byher chair a minute, one witheredold hand pawing at the air, till Ma,with a look at Pa, set her down again.

All next day Aunt Daid was quiet,but come evening she got restless.She went to the door three or fourtimes, just waiting there like a puppyasking to go out, but after my hearthad started pounding and I hadhurried to her,and opened the door,she just waved her face blindly atthe darkness outside and \vent backto her chair.

Next night was the same untilalong about 10 o'clock, just as Mawas thinking of putting Aunt Daidto bed. First thing we knew, AuntDaid was by the door again, her feettramping up and down impatiently,her dry hands whispering over thedoor.

"I t's time," said Pa quiet-like andI got all cold inside.

"But it's blacker'n pitch tonight,"I protested. "I t's as dark -as the insideof a cat. No moon."

Aunt Daid \vhimpered. I nearlydropped .. It was the first sound I'dever heard from her.

"It's time," said Pa again, his facebleak. "Walk her, son. And, Paul. . . bring her back."

"Down hollow's bad enough byday," I said, watching, half-sick, as

WALKING AUNT DAtD

Aunt -Daid spread her skinny armsout against the door, her face pushedup against it hard, her saggy blackdress looking like spilled ink drippeddown. "But on a moonless night-"

"Walk her somewhere else, then,"said Pa, his voice getting thin. "Ifyou can. But get going, son, anddon't come back without her."

And I was ou tside, feeling theshifting of Aunt Daid's hand bonesinside my hand as she set off throughthe dark, dragging me along withher, scared half to death, wonderingif the rustling I heard was her skinor her clothes, wondering on theedge of screaming where she wasdragging me to - what she wasdragging me to.

I tried to head her off from downhollow, . steering her towards thelane or the road or across lots or outinto the pasture, but it was likebeing a dog on a leash. I went myway the length ofour two arms, thenI went her way. Finally I gave upand let her drag me, my eyes openedto aching, trying to see in the darkso heavy that only a less dark showedwhere the sky \vas. There wasn't asound except the thud of our feet inthe dust and a thin straining hiss thatwas Aunt Daid's breath and a gulp·ing gasp that \vas mine. I'd've criedif I hadn't been so scared.

Aunt Daid stopped so quick thatI ploughed in to her, breathing in asudden puff of a smell like a stack ofold newspapers that have been along time in a dusty shed~And therewe stood, so close I could touch her

95

but I couldn't even see·a glimmer ofher face in the "darkness that was sothick it seemed like the whole nighthad poured itself down into thehollow. But between one blink andanother, I could see Aunt Daid. Notbecause there was any more light,but because my eyes seemed to getmore seeing to them.

She was yawning - a soft littleyawn that she covered with a quickhand - and then she laughed. Mythroat squeezed my breath. Theyawn and the hand movement andthe laugh were all young and grace...ful and - and beautiful- but thehand and the face were still withered-up old Aunt Daid.

"I'm waking up." The voice sentshivers up me - pleasure shivers."I'm waking up," said Aunt Daidagain, her soft, light voice surprisedand delighted. "And I know I'mwaking up!"

She held her hands up and lookedat them. "They look so horriblyreal," she marveled. "Don't they?"

She held them out to me and inmy surprise I croaked, "Yeah, theydo."

At the sound of my voice, shejerked all over and got shimmery allaround the edges.

"He said," she whispered, her lipsfirming and coloring as she talked,"he said if ever I could know in mydream that I was just dreaming, I'dbe on the way to a cure. I k?zow thisis the same recurrent nightmare. Iknow I'm asleep, but I'm talking toone of the creatures -" she looked

96

.at me a minute "- one of th, peoplein my dream. And he's talking tome- for the first time!"

Aunt Daid was changing. Her facewas filling out and her eyes widen..ing, her body was straining at theold black dress that wasn't saggy anymore. Before I could draw a breath,the old dress rustled to the groundand Aunt Daid - I mean she wasstanding there, light rippling aroundher like silk - a light that cast noshadows nor even flickered on thetangled growth in the hollow.

It seemed to me that I could seeinto that light, farther than any human eyes ought to see, and all atonce the world that had always beenabsolute bedrock to me became ashimmering edge of something, apath bet\\Teen places or a brief stopping place.. And the wonder thatwas the existence of mankind wasn'tunique any more.

"Oh, if only I am cured!" shecried. "If only I don't ever have togo through this nightmare again!"She lifted her arms and drew herselfup into a slim gro\ving exclamationpoint.

"For the first time I really kno\vI'm dreaming," she said. "And Iknow this isn't reall" Her feetdanced across the hollow and shetook both my numb hands. "Youaren't real, are you?" she asked."None of this is, is it? All this ugly,old, dragging -" She put her armsaround me and hugged me tight.

My hands tingled to the icy fire ofher back and my breath ,vas tangled


in the heavy silvery gleam of herhair.

"Bless you for being unreal!" shesaid. "And may I never dream youagain!"

And there I was, all alone in thedark hollow, staring at hands Icouldn't see, trying to see the iceand fire that still tingled on myfinger tips. I took a deep shudderybreath and stopped to grope forAunt Daid's dress that caught atmy feet. Fear melted my knees andthey wouldn't straighten up again. Icould feel terror knocking at mybrain and I knew as soon as it couldbreak through I'd go screaming upthe hollow like a crazy man, squeezing the back dress like a rattlesnakein my hands. But I heard Pa saying,"Bring her back," and I thought,"All my grampas saw it, too. All ofthem brought her back. It's happened before." And I crouchedthere, squinching my eyes tightshut," holding my breath, my fingersdigging into my palms,. clutchingthe dress.

It might have been a minute, itmight have been an hour, or a lifetime before the dress stirred in myhands. My knees jerked me uprightand I dropped the dress like a livecoal.

She \vas there again, her eyesdreaming-shut, her hair swinginglike the start of music, her face likeevery tender thing a heart couldever know. Then her eyes openedslowly and she looked around her.

"Oh, 110!" she cried, the back of

WALKING AUNT DAID

her hand muffling her words. "Notagain! Not after all this time I I

. thought I was over it!"And I had her crying in my a'rms

- all that wonderfulness against me.All that softness and sorrow.

But she pulled away and lookedup at me. hWell, I'll say it again so I

. 'won't forget it," she said, her tearsslipping from her face and glitteringdown through the dark. "'And thistime it'll work. This is only a dream.My own special nightmare. Thiswill surely be the last one. I have justthis one night to live through andnever again, never again. You aremy dream - this is all a dream -"Her hands touched the wrinklesthat started across her forehead.The old black dress' was creeping likea devouring snake up her and herflesh was sagging away before it as itcrept. Her hair was dwindling andta'cnishing out of its silvery shining,her eyes shrinking and blanking out.

~'No, nof" I cried, sick to the marrow to see Aunt Daid coming backover all that wonder. I rubbed myhand over her face to- erase the lines

97

that were crackihg across it, but theskin under my fingers stiffened and'crumpled and stiffened and hardenedand,. before I could wipe the feel ofd'ried oldness from the palm of myhand, all of AWlt Daid was there andthe hollow was fading as my eyeslost their seeing.

I felt the drag and snag of weedsand briars as I brought Aunt Daid·back - a sobbing Aunt Daid, tottering and weak. I finally had tocarry ber, all match..sticky andmusty in my arms.

As I struggled up out of the hollow that was stirring behind me .in awind that left the rest of the worldsilent, I heard singing in my head,Life is but a dream. . . . Life is buta dream. But before I stumbledblindly into the blare of light fromthe kitchen door, I shook the sobbing bundle of bones in my arms the withered cocoon, the wrinkledseed of such a flowering - and whis...pered, .

"Wake up, Aunt Daidl Wake up,you.f"

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1{ecommended 1{eadinghy ANTHONY BOUCHER

FOR SEVERAL MONTIlS NOW MY LIST and one of the best of all Besters,of recommended reprints, coming Adam and no Eve; and John W.at the end of this department, has Campbell, Jr.'s WHO GOES THERE?been squeezed out by limitations of (Dell, 3S¢), not so much a reprintspace. So this time let's start off with as a new edition including 6 storiesthe reprints and make sure of listing from his two hardcover collectionsany titles you may have overlooked plus a brand new introduction byon the newsstands. Theodore Sturgeon - a warm and

Urgently recommended: You can't just appreciation of Campbell's imgo wrong with any of the following, portance as a creator in writing (aseach representing as rewarding an Don A. Stuart) these stories whichinvestment in creative science fic- so admirably foretold the innovation as you can hope to make with tions in modern science fiction thatyour qyarter (or quarter plus dime): he was later, as an editor, to evokeKarel Capek's 1937 classic WAR WITH from other writers.THE NEWTS (Bantam, 35¢), a long- Of interest: Ray Bradbury's 1953out-of-print rarity fully worthy of THE GOLDEN APPLES OF THE SUNthecreatorofR.u.R.;FredricBrown's (Bantam, 3S¢), a mixed lot ranging1953 THE LIGHTS IN TIlE SKY ARE from Bradbury's impressive best· toSTARS (Bantam, 25¢), an unusually his equally impressive worst; Richhuman story of politics, spaceflight ard Matheson's THIRD FROM THEand middle-aged love; Kurt Vonne- SUN (Bantam, 2S¢), a group covergut, Jr.'s UTOPIA 14 (Bantam, 35¢)' ing almost as wide a gamut, selecteda retitling of the satiric PLAYER from his 1954 BORN OF MAN ANDPIANO, worthy runner-up for the WOMAN (musing aside: I suppose you1953 International Fantasy Award; have to be as brilliantly gifted as aMORE ADVENTURES IN TIME AND Bradbury or a Matheson to seem soSPACE (Bantam, 25¢), a second vol- spectacular in your occasional failume of selections from the superb ures); Robert A. Heinlein's 19541946 Healy-McComas anthology REVOLT IN 2100 (Signet, 2S¢), acontaining 7 stories from As~ound- lesser volume in the Future Historying 1937-1942, among them Cleve featuring an extensively rewrittenCartmill's finest work, The Link, b.ut still not quite convincing version

98

RECO~DED READING

of the 1940 Astounding serial, "IF

THIS GOES ON -"; and Gore Vidal's1954 MESSIAH (Ballantine, 3S¢), asomewhat heavy and ill-constructedbut magnificently thought-out studyof a future religion based on thedeath-wish. (If one could only com'"bine Heinlein's storytelling andVidal's theological insight. . .)

Doubtful value: Murray Leinster'sSPACE TUG (Pocket Books, 25¢), anacceptable 1953 juvenile republished (without warning) as an adultnovel; David Karp's ESCAPE TO

NOWHERE (Lion, 3S¢), retitling of1953'S ONE, a self-consciously "liter'"ary"· and singularly dull attack onthe familiar Huxley...Orwell...Brad...bury theme; Ambrose Bierce's THE

MONK AND THE HANGMAN'S DAUGH

TER (Avon, 2S¢), an indifferentlychosen Bierce selection (very littleof it fantasy) - which I still hope.may succeed well enough to elicitlater cheap editions of better Bierce.

Avoid at all costs: 20 GREAT GHOST

STORIES (Avon, 25¢), an anony'"mously edited group of wisely anon'"ymous crudities; THE DELUGE (Lion,25t) , a poor fantasy novella byRobert Payne labeled "a science...fantasy novel by Leoq.ardo cIa Vinci";Jerry Sohl's COSTIGAN'S NEEDLE

(Bantam, 2S¢).Please note how many of these

reprints, and particularly how manyof the best, come from Bantamobviously the' reprint house that is,at the moment, devoting the mostserious attention to science fiction.

\Vhile we're on the subject of

99

the newsstands,; let me note a fewbooks of cartoons which containsome noble' specimens of fantasyhumor. Edna Bennett's THE BEST

CARTOONS FROM FRANCE (Lion, 35'#),reprint of a 1953. hardcover collec .tion, is a wholly entrancing anthol...ogy of, to quote Philippe Halsman'sintroduction, "a world where every'"thing is possible [and] in which weare immediatdy at home." FRENCH

POSTCARDS (Avon, 2S¢), an anony'"mously edited paper,; original, isnearly as good . . . and even moredevoted to those immortal themeswhich the puritan Anglo-Saxon can'"siders characteristically "French."And the American Virgil Partchshows that he can rival the fantasticimaginings of any dozen Frenchmenin MAN THE- BEAST AND THE WILD,

WILD WOMEN (Dell, 2S¢), a double...reprint of two hardcover volumes.CAVE~AN CARTOONS, edited by Har...old Meyers (Avon, 2S¢), may beskipped as unimaginative and drear...ily repetitious.

To turn to hardcover books, theoddest event of the year is the allbut simultaneous appearance of an'"thologies on the same theme by twoveteran editors: Groff Conklin'sSCIENCE FICTION TERROR TALES

(Gnome, $3.50*; Pocket Books, 2S¢)and Donald A. Wollheim's TERROR

IN THE MODERN VEIN (Hanover,$3.9S*). What's perhaps even odderis that the Wollheim volume is, tomy taste,. incomparably the betterof the two.

Both edito~sagree that the Gothic

too

tale of supernatural terror is ouimoded, and that sciepce-fantasy isdeveloping fresh and subtler horrorsfor our more skeptical minds. Noww·hat one finds terrifying is at leastas individual and unarguable as whatone finds funny (eith~r reaction, Iimagine, being of acute interest toone's psychoanalyst). To some extent I can try for critical objectivityand say that Conklin lays morestress upon physical terror, Wollheim upon psychical, and that theWollheim collection strikes a higheraverage of literary quality, coversa .wider field of selection, and includes a much smaller percentage ofpreviously an~hologized wordage.·But primarily it boils down to this:Mr. Conklin's terrors don't scareme and Mr. Wollheim's do.

This is not to say that the Conklinbook is negligible; of its 15 stories(5 previously anthologized), 7 rangefrom good to excellent in their ways,if only I is truly disturbing. (Thatone, Heinlein's They, is the onlystory common to both volumes.) OfWollheim's 17 stories (3 previouslyanthologized), at least 12 are admirable' and 5 of these. extraordinarily so: the Heinlein, H. G.Wells's The Croquet Player (originally a separate book), a fine RobertBloch novelet from Beyond aboutsile.nt films, and striking rediscov...eries of old and forgotten magazinestories by Philip M. Fisher, Jr. andVernard McLaughlin (this last accomplishing the impossible by lending. new life to the Adam-and-Eve


theme!). Stories by Bradbury, Grin...nell, Kafka, Leiber and Lovecraftare only minutely less good; and thewhole is (again I must say, to mytaste) as disquieting a volume ofsubtle modern wrongness as you canask.

(One small bone to pick with botheditors: Since neither was 'whollyeschewing the familiar, how couldeither of them omit John Campbell'sWho ·Goes There? and Philip MacDonald's Private- Keep Out!, eachas unsettling as anything I know inthis particular vein?)

Two recently published juvenilesdeserve your attention, not merelyas presents for children, but foryour own enjoyment. RuthvenTodd's SPACE CAT VISITS VENUS

(Scribner's, $2*) introduces Flyball,that fine feline of free fall, to aplanet of intelligent plants and enables him to establish telepathicrapport with the human space pilotwho foolishly considers himself theeat's master. It's a witty and charming book - not to be judged byPaul Galdone's illustrations, whichare cutely anthropomorphic ("Ohlookit the kitty in his darling littlespacesuit!") as the text never is.(After this and the ghastly misrepresentation of Heinlein's Lummox, I wonder if anybody at Scribner's ever compares text and pictures.)

Ray Bradbury's SWITCH ON THE

NIGHT (Pantheon, $2.50*) is, forall its brevity, one .of Bradbury'smaj <if achievemen ts to da te-

RECO~ENDED READING

enough in itself to restore the confidence of anyone worried by thosefailures mentioned above. It's asimple and highly effective tale (tosome extent autobiographical) of achild's conquest of his fears of. thedark; told in glittering cascades ofexquisitely tasteful poetic prose surpassing, stylistically, anything theauthor has attempted before; andthe text is perfectly fused with theillustrations of Madeleine Gekiereto-produce a new visual form beyondwords or pictures. Forget about itsbeing primarily addressed to thepre-school level; here is a superbcreative work of imagination. (Andappealing to every age. So manybooks are loved only by the veryyoung and by the sophisticated. Inthis case my teen-age sons' pronounced the unquestioning superlative: "Cool!")

The latest novels offer nothingin the way of Iiterary depth or scientific ingenuity; but they do include two agreeable specimens ofold-style out-and-out space opera.Robert Moore Williams' CONQUEST

10.1

OF THE SPACE SEA (Ace, 35¢, witha reprint of Leigh Brackett's 1952THE STARMEN, retitled THE GALACTIC

BREED) is about the foiling of ~n

alien invasion of our Plutonian outpost, and may remind you - withits robots, spies, supermen, et alof Ed Hamilton in his best CaptainFuture days. And Stanton A. Coblentz's brand-new UNDER THE TRIPLE

SUNS (Fantasy Press, $3*) soundsexactlv like one of his first sciencefantasies back in 1928 - adventureon an alien planet with Good (birdlike) and Bad (spider-like) nativeraces, tinged with some amusingtopsy-turvy satire. David V. Reed'sMURDER IN. SPACE (Galaxy, 3S¢),first book appearance of a 1944Amazing novel, and Charles EricMaine's TIMELINER (Rinehart,$2·7S*), an adaptation of a BBCradio play, are mere cliche-museums.As McComas said of the Mainenovel in the Times, the recentBeaumont-Oliver spoof in F.&SFincluded very nearly as many outworn devices in much briefer compass, and was meant to be funny.

* Books marked with an asterisk may be ordered through P&SP's Readers' Book Service. Fordetails, see page 2.

In I9JJ F&SF had th, honor of introducing to the English language thefiction of KmJ Lasswit( (z848-z9z0), the German professor whose novel.AUF ZWEI PLANBTEN (ON TWO PLANETS), though never puhlished inEnglish, has pt-olJahly had more influence upon factual science than anyother work of science fiction. lAsswi~' short stories are far less seriousthan his- novel./ they are Nsually outrageous fantasy-caprices, though with anundercurrent of aulte scientific slltire - as in this zBH} story, now unearthed for us hy Willy Ley, which pokes delightful fun at all the ponderouspretensions of Nineteenth Century German philosophy.

Psychotomyhy KURD LASSWITZ

translated by Witty Ley

ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS AN but the critic's own opinIon. IfAssistant Professor of Philosophy people would only realize that one'swhose name has to be mentioned for opinions score their greatest victorypositive identification: it was Dr. if they are sacrificed for the purposeSchulze. One afternoon he was sit- of replacement by a better set ...ting at his desk, trying to give shape Obviously truth speaks for itself,to his thoughts. But that was diffi- provided that the inertia of errorcult for they did riot have enough could be stopped. If one could onlyvolume to be even properly cloudy. neutralize contradiction by othersWhat there was of them ran as fol- ... Then everybody would surelylows: agree with Dr. Schulze's treatise On

Another philosophical writer had Emotions. The trouble was that hemisunderstood him completely. This lacked a method for this. Thewas due, of course, to vulgar con- best was indubitably the experitrariness, to contradiction not even mental method. If one had it onefor argument's sake but on prin- could easily measure the width ofciple - the principle being the sup- consciousness, the depth of an emoposition that nothing can be true tion or even the height of an ideal.

Copyright held by Dr. Erich Lasswitz.

102

PSYCHOTOMY

While he was thinking there was aknock at the poor and immediatelyafterwards a man entered. He worea heavy overcoat, for it was winter,and he carried a box which he puton Dr. Schulze's desk. Then he satdown. It was impossible to tellwhether he was young or old, hisforehead was so high that there wasnot much room for hair, but the eyesunder the bushy eyebrows appearedas luminous as stars. The visitor began to talk.

"Please permit me, Herr Doktor,to acquaint you with the latest accomplishments of science. I am apsychotomist and right now engagedin a business trip to make contactsfor my preparations; if you want toyou may regard me as a commisvoyageur in philosophical requirements. You don't quite understandme?.oh yes, I see some doubt there;permit me please...."

He reached over and into Dr.Schulze's hair and in precisely themanner in which one might removea' beetle or a grasshopper from somebody's clothing he took a smallsomething which he placed on therim of the inkwell. With great surprise Dr. Schulze saw an enchantingsmall lady, hardly an inch tall, whoimmediately bent down for a drinkfrom the inkwell.

"This,"· the psychotomist explained, "is the Category of Negation who made it hard for you tofollow my expqsition. I have therefore removed her and you'll be surprised by the results."

1°3

"But, my dear sir ..•" ."Please, Herr poktor, .your doubts

now are merely an after~.1fect~"Don't

fear, I'll put her back into yourmake-up later. She'll strengthen herself in the meantime, for ink is herfavorite liquid ·refreshment. But togo on. You must know that thebrain physiologists fail to arrive atany reliable philosophical results.We psychotomists have chosen another road for this reason; we dissectthe ego. One must not just 'think'logical abstractions. One has to makethem real; they need personification. Yes, I know you are going tosay that that isn't a new thoughtand it can be read in Plato's works.But did he succeed in making themreal enough so that one can actuallyhandle them? He did not! But ourpreparations. are personages - incomplete, of course, since they areonly parts of the human personality;but they are alive."

"This is perfectly clear to me,"Dr. Schulze replied. "You evidentlyhave a m"ethod -"

"Dear Doktor, the method of psychotomy is something I can't develop today. Please be satisfied forthe nonce with the results. I havebrought the most impor~ant onesalong."

He opened the lid of the box andtook out a few cartons and jars.

"First a few minor things," hesaid. "These are our earliest prodducts; we began with them and practiced on them until we progressedto the functions of the soul. Here,

1°4

for example, are the Platonic ideas."He handed Dr. Schulze a small

sealed package. Schulze tried to unwrap it, but the stranger snatched itaway from him.

"NoP' he cried. "Mustn't open.Without a material shell the ideasare invisible."

"But how would I know what'sin the paper?"

"You simply have to believe me.Here are a few of the atoms ofDemokritos. They grew a bit toolarge and I'll gladly make you apresent of them if you want them.And how do you like this little universe in nuce? Looks pretty betweenthe two halves of a walnut shell,doesn't it? I admit it's a bit darkinside; it is one of Leibnitz's monads,they are that way. Here in this jar"is something quite rare but I'll sellit to you cheaply; it is a sample ofKant's Pure Reason."

"But this looks quite gray.""Well, it grew a bit dusty in a

hundred years, but if you have itpopularized it will be like new. Butnow: the recent accomplishments."

"He put some of the things backinto his box and Dr. Schulze noticed a few strange bundles. "Whatfunny sausages you have there."

"These are space samples.""Space samples?""Yes! Samples of the various kinds

of space, positively or negativelycurved, with three, four, five and ndimensions. We sell by the dimension, so and so much per -foot. I'llleave some with you."

FANTASY AND SCIENCE PICTION

"What's the arrow and the comb?""Dh these. They have been

marked down. Really not of muchuse except maybe as window trimming. That arrow is the one oftencalled the 'eleatic arrow' in elementary texts, the arrow whichrests in flight. And the comb hasbeen made from the" turtle whichAchilles could not catch. But watchnow."

He put three objects on the desk.One was a glass box, furnished almost like a doll house. A large number of tiny fairy-like figures weremoving around in it and Dr. Schulzeat once classified them as the Categories of Reason because they soclosely resembled the Category ofNegation who had meanwhile con..sumed a good amount of ink.

"One would hardly think," hemused, "that just the Categories ofReason, something that sounds admittedly dry, would have such beautiful figures."

"That's true," the psychotomistagreed, "but it can be explained bytheir pure philosophical origin. Andthey have to be female, of course;you can sense that from the soundof their names - names like Quantity, Reality, Causality could notbelong to men. There: see this ladyin the colorful veils who is slowlyturning around? That is Limitation;she causes things to be neither blacknor white, neither yes nor no - youhave no idea how much she is indemand around election time. Hereyou have the Category ofPossibility,

'PSYCHOTOMY

in great demand with -the clergy,and there is her twin' sister Impossibility - we can write our ownprice for her with defense lawyers.'But we now progress to the emo"tions."

He opened a round box full ofdark, small and slimy spheres.

"Caviar I" Schulze said with con"viction.

"Looks like it, but these are pre"pared emotions and moods. Lookmore closely, you'll see that each ofthem has its own characteristics.But they are, in a manner of speaking, the lower organisms of philosophy - but important just the same.Their sliminess often causes trouble:you think you picked Pleasure andwhen you look closely it turns out tobe Disappointment. We have num..bered them - here's the list - because there are too many. I can'tsell them separately because theykeep only when complete. Also no"body would buy Sorrow or Fear orAnxiety.... Now, I couldn't bringany human character traits along(they are still being purified) buthere are the ideals I"

"I should have thought themliquor samples," Dr. Schulze admitted.

"In a way they are, because theyhave to be kept in alcohol for stor"ability. If you look through thebottle against a light you'll seeslightly luminous figures. Here, thebottle with the red stopper containsFreedom. It's a small sample, butwe are, after all, in Europe. Here is

t:"105

Humaneness~ I had more' of that t

but my 'best customers are thevarious Societies for the Preventionof Cruelty to Animals. This one herecontains Immortality - doesn't sellwell, people think that the bestvariety is 'self-made. I must leaveyou now, but I'll leave these sampler»with you so that you can study themat leisure. And this item here migh'tinterest you too."

It was a fairly tall narrow glassvessel, filled with a liquid in which asmall figure, something like a littledevil, was floating up an~ down'.

"What's that? What do you callit?" Schulze said.

"Advanced Nonsense," the psy.chotomist replied, disappearing.

After some reflection, Dr. Schulzecame to the conclusion that all thismight have been a cloak for a burglary or theft of some sort. But hehad to realize that his powers of de..duction were not very efficient, fornothing was missing. And therewere, on his desk, the glass box withthe Categories, the container withthe Moods and Emotions, the littlebottles with the Ideals in them andeven the strange sausages containingsemi-mathematical space samples. Henoticed that La Negation was stillperched on the rim of the inkwell.Too bad; the psychotomist had neglected to put her back. On theother hand, the man would certainlyreturn for his samples and in themeantime Dr. Schulze did not feelunhappy wit~ol;l~· her. He looked fora while at the glass box with the

106-

Categories and carefully lifted thelid off the container of Emotions and

-·Moods. Then it struck him that heneeded fresh air. While descendingthe staircase he tripped over thelandlady's tomcat and "almost fell it made him very happy that he hadnot hurt the dear little animal.

Outside the door he noticed thatone of the small spheres from thebox of emotions was sticking to histhumb. He could make out that itbore the number One and remem"bered that the list began with Con..tentment. He felt most content thathe had not lost it and put it in hismatchbox for safekeeping.

In the morning snow had fallenand during the afternoon there hadbeen a slight thaw. As a result half..melted snow covered the cobble..stones so that it was hard to take afew steps without slipping. It wasquite dark, for a fog swallowed upthe last of the evening twilight butthe street lamps were not yet on. Aworkman carrying a bag of flour raninto Dr. Schulze who most politelybegged his forgiveness. He then noticed that flour had spilled on hisdark overcoat and watched withfascination and contentment howthe fog changed the flour into pleas..ing paste.

The next man he met was CityCouncilor Billig whom he had oftenannoyed by his criticism of munici..pal administration.

"This weather isn't fit for dogs,"the City Councilor growled. "To


scrape up all this 'snow and cart itaway will cost ..."

"Yes, yes, of course," Dr. Schulzeinterrupted him, "that will putmoney into circulation, but it is justas nice to leave the snow where it is.Our cobblestones are quaint andpicturesque and the melting snowbetween them is a fine example ofNature's way of evening things out.Any civic-minded person should in...sist upon keeping our city as naturalas possible."

"Doctor, I hope you are notmaking fun of the city's adminis"tration -"

"1 assure you, Councilor, that Iam perfectly content. I only wishthat others would realize the educa..tional value of difficult streets. Thedarkness will improve the senses ofboth pedestrians and drivers. It pre"serves city funds and it may aug"ment the savings of doctors and surgeons. Just consider how much un"necessary expenditure for dressesand toiletries is saved by the simplefact that it is too dark after 4 P.M.

for our ladies to be seen in thestreets. If I were an alderman ..."

"You will be one, you will be one,I'll see to it."

"Thank you ever so much. Youcan count on it that I'll vote 'yes'for any ordipance anybody mightwish to pass."

"Including the planned new citytax?"

"Of cours~e. I favor taxes. Nothingcan give me a g~e~ter feeling of contentment than to sacrifice my worldly

PSYGHOTOMY

goods for the welfare of the community."

"Bravol Doctor, you ~re practically elected. I am leaving for myfavorite Bierstube now and I'll haveat least ten votes rounded up for youbefore the evening is over."

The idea of a beer struck a responsive chord in Dr. Schulze andhe turned the corner toward a placewhere he would be sure to meetsome of the faculty. He had hardlywalked a hundred yards when he raninto a lady whom he usually avoidedcarefully. Linolinde von Zwinkerwitz was, to speak politely, of talkative habits, and for the last ten yearsshe not only claimed that Dr.Schulze courted her, she also forcedhim into long conversations at-everyopportunity. Schulze told his colleagues that she had cost him twofull semesters, the semester countedas three months, the month astwenty days and the day as 90 minutes, which was the length of hisclass on the history of Greek philosophy prior t<;> Sokrates.

Linolinde von Zwinkerwitz wascharmed with Dr. Schulze's completely unexpected pleasant manners and with little hesitation sheadmitted that she had written anovel, only a few hundred pages.Would he like to read it?

"But with the greatest ofpleasure,my dear lady! In fact I am lookingforward to the opportunity to peerinto your· soul."

"You don't know, doctor-""I do know that I'm content."

10']

Linolinde pressed his arm: "Whyshouldn't we admit that we under...stand each other?"

"We do," he replied, although hehad a faint feeling that this was notwhat he really intended to say. Ashas been mentioned, the streets,thanks to City Councilor Billig'scareful management of the municipal finances, were dark. But somebody cleared his throat and Linolinde suddenly disappeared. Schulzehappily entered his Bierstube, almost colliding on the doorstep withthe head of the Department ofPhilosophy, Professor Oberwasser.

The evening turned out to bequite difficult for Schulze for hesimply couldn't say no to anything. ·He promised the geologist to accompany him on a field trip the next.day, an all-day trip. But he alsopromised his neighbor at his left tohelp him with. som~ literary research in the University Library atnoon. And after both of them hadleft he accepted an invitation forlunch from a later arrival. Duringthe exchange of travel reminiscenceshe lost himseif in a thick net of con"tradictions and lies, for wheneversomebody asked him whether he hadseen this or that he was compelledto say yes. Finally he got himselfinto the bad graces of ProfessorOberwasser who was heavily engaged in a literary feud with thephilosopher Weisschon, concerningthe possibility ofthe demonstrabilityof Nothing.

"Can any·sensible person," Oberwasser thundered, "believe that thesiinple negation of a concept, by a.process of abstraction, could resultin a determination which is logically·equivalent to the Non-assumption·0£ the Not-being?"

Of course he expected Schulze tosay no with conviction, but to every-Ix>dy's surpri~e Schulze said:

"Difficulties notwithstanding, onemust accept the Nothing as a positive value because it is impossible tonegate it. As regards your essay,'which I recall with positive pleasure,I -feel that you are just as right asDr. Weisschon, since in the end alljudgments of all people must beaffirmative."

At that Professor Oberwasserrose in indignation, convinced thatSchulze had had too much to drink.This, of course, was true. Wheneverthe waiter asked Schulze whether hewould like another glass of beer,Schulze was unable to refuse; besides, he enjoyed his beer \vith greatcontentment. It grew very late andwhen the restaurant closed andSchulze had to go home there wasstill a minor delay because he had totell the night watchman how muchhe envied him the pleasure of standing all night, leaning against a wall,in slowly melting sn~w, the familiarview of the old city transformed intoa strange mystery by the dense fog.

When he woke up it was almostnOOD. He tried to reconstruct theevents of the previo~s night but


found large gaps in his memory.Then he noticed the landlady's tomcat which was sitting on the chairnext to his bed, watching him witha strong expression of disapproval.Not only that, but the cat was holding his Category of Negation between his front paws; the animal hadprobably thought her a mouse or abird and caught her. He reached outalmost in a reflex movement, butstopped when· the cat opened hismouth and talked.

"Just stay where you are, myvenerable doctor, and don't wastetime marveling at the fact that I amtalking to you. Literature has beenso full of talking tomcats that onemore really doesn't make 'any difference. Besides, they all had far lessreason to speak than I do, becauseduring the night I ate all the Categories on your desk."

"Holy Immanuel," moaned Dr.Schulze. "How. many of them?"

"Unfortunately I did not countthem and regret very much to beunable to decide the·old controversyabout the nwnber ofCategories. Butwhile I'm at it· I might call yourattention to the fact that it is nowtwelve noon and that you are notin the library as promised. Of courseyou also failed to cancel the lunchinvitation and you did not meetProfessor Steinschleifer for his geological field trip."

"I know, I know; thes~ gentlemenwill no doubt be angry. But please,return my Negation to me."

"Patience,.'-' said the, :cat. "I still

PSYCHOTOMY

have to add a few things. After yourdiscussion with Professor Oberwasser last night I have the feeling thatyour promotion may be delayed forquite some time. That you lost yourlighter, ruined your overcoat andspent all your cash is relatively unimportant by comparison. Oh yes,the mailman was here and I thinkyou ought to know what hebrought."

"Go ahead," Schulze said quietly."Well, City Councilor Billig writes

that your election is in the bag" Schulze emitted a cry of horror"and that your other remarks en"couraged him to talk to the taxcommissioner. Then \ve have a sub...poena for a hearing • . . let's see. . . 'with reference to premeditated insult of the Municipal NightWatchman Warmbier, while the lat..ter was on duty.' Then there is aheavy manuscript, Night of Heartand Might of Love: A Novel, byLinolinde von Zwinkerwitz, and another manuscript by the same hand,On the Immortality of the Soul:Thoughts of a Living Person. Plus aletter saying:"Darling! I told mother.She expects you for lunch. I'm sohappy. Ever thine, Linolinde.' - Inshort, my dear Dr. Schulze, nexttime. you go out with Contentmentdon't leave Negation at, home. Ihave the honor to restore her to yourmake..up."

The cat suddenly looked like thepsychotomist. Schulze felt somepressure against his head and thenboth cat and Negation has disap-

::1°9 \:

peared. Schulze jumped up, put ona bathrobe and stuck his head invery cold water.

The first thing he saw in his studywas his little dog named ~onsense;

one of the space samples was hangingout of his mouth. The dog hadthought them digestible; but when I

he swallowed them, the coordinates ~had come loose and now the dog was l

on the flOOf, curled up in all dimensions and motionless. Schulze bentdown to pick him up, but a familiarvoice said:

"Just leave him alone, Schulze;this is only temporary. A true philosopher's dog will get rid of metageometry just as soon as he finds outthat it can't be digested."

The voice belonged to Schulze'sclosest friend, Adolf Miller, M.D.,who was lying on the sofa, happilysmoking a cigar. "Boy, do you lookawful," he continued. "I'ni sorrythat I didn't leave some of thatcaviar for you. Incidentally, whomade you a present of that?"

"For God's sake, Miller, youdidn't eat the contents of that box,did you?"

"I did - it was wonderful. Youdon't mind, do you? I also drankthose liqueur samples. A bit strong,but good."

"This is awful, awful, awful. Man,those were my Emotions and myIdeals. You've swallowed the Emotions and Ideals of humanity, 'youcannibal. What do you think willhappen to you now?"

"Emotions in caviar and Ideals in

r,· :110

schnappS? You philosophers are morepractical by far than one wouldthink. Well, you see it didn't hurtme, medical men have to be abovesuch minor matters. Incidentally,here's your lighter, you lost it on thestaircase. Oh, there is another ofthose sturgeon eggs -"

"Keep it. That's Contentment.""Probably a new variety of para

site. I'll try to make a culture of it.And now tell me what happened toyou."

Schulze confessed.After he had finished the doctor

felt his pulse and said: "What youneed is more sleep. Go back to bed;in the afternoon you'll feel better.You should be happy that that tomcat and I ate those things up - theywouldn't have agreed with you. I'll


leave you alone now; you can giveme another one of your cigars forthe road, provided, of course, that itdoesn't contain some psychologicalmonstrosity."

After he had left, Schulze, insteadof going to bed, sat down at hisdesk. He dipped his pen into the inkwell which was only half full andwrote apologetic letters. And because his Category of Negation wasfull of ink he began writing a bookreview after the last letter had beensigned. After that was done, too, herested his heavy head in his hands,stared into space and thought of thepsychotomist and his gifts. Theywere all gone now - except for onetall glass out of which a little devilstared at him with unwinking eyes.

It was Advanced Nonsense.

Coming Next Month

Our next issue, on the stands in early July, will introduce a novelexperiment in magazine contents: We'll bring you Paul Andersonand Gordon R. Dickson separately, each in strong serious stories ofinterplanetary exploration and conflict, and then show you howuniquely their talents combine in the latest of the uproarious adventures of those earnestly imitative transgalactic teddy bears, theHokas: The Tidd/ywink Warriors, in which you'll be delighted bythe Hokan concept of the French Foreign Legion. There'll also bea powerful nov-elet of future crime and punishmen,t,Two-HandedEngine, by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore, and new short stories(no reprints this time) by such favorite F&SF a~t~ors as MildredClIngerman, Charles Beaumont and the late Elisabeth SanxayHolding.

Charles W. Morton, associate eaitor of The Atlantic Monthly and himself an essayist for whom the adjective urbane might have heen invented, isparticularly noted among fellow writers and editors for his u.feful inventionof "the all-purpose story." As a special service to F&SF's readers and contrihutors, here is his all-purpose ghost story - which a numher of ourwould-he contributors ohviou.rly read on its earlier Atlantic appearance,since every mail delivery bring.r a copy with the blanks jilled in. As Mr.Morton too truly ohserves, "It practically writes itself, once you get thething going. ,t

erhe cAll-Purpose ghost Storyhy CHARLE"S W. MORTON

"I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS-"YET a --, a good --, and the possi..how else to account for what hap- bility of-- the next morning."pened to me that night in --?" Any reader l¥ho will stick with a

This model opening sentence is ghost story, once he knows it foradjustable in various ways, but the that, is a highly suggestible personmain point must be made at the ality. He creates his own atmosvery beginning: It's a ghost story; phere for himself out of anythingeerie doings impend. Once he un- the author sees fit to tell him, so itderstands that, the reader will find matters little what the layout atsomething spooky in even the most -- proves to be. .commonplace details. "There was nothing about the

With the full gullibility of the outward appearance of No. -reader thus fired at the take-off, the that was in the least unusual, but asghost-story writer need only breeze I mounted the steps and rang thealong, filling in the blanks as he bell I had a sudden feeling of--. Igoes. noticed, too, that a -- across the

"It was late in the afternoon when street seemed to be eying me ratherI finally reached --," he con- closely, but I must confess that Itinues. "I had been -- ing hard thought nothing of it at the ti~e."

all day and I ,vas looking forward to Just who the author's host willCopyright, 1953, hy the Atlantic Monthly

III

rii:l"'be at -No. -- is easily settled. Itcan.be an old friend, though a land.~dy 'would do just as well- butonly one in either case. ("1 realized'when Blank answered the door'himself that his servants must haveleft and that we were alone in the.house....") You can't afford to~ve too many people around in astory of this kind.

The reader ought to have built upa fair head of steam by this time andbe ready to assign odd meanings toany old statement. "The hall wasbrightly lighted" will worry him asmuch as no lights at all. If the authorreports a window open, the readerwonders who opened it. Was itBlank? Why was it open?

A few such details set the readerup for the first really scarey deyelopment - the extraordinary changein Blank (or the landlady): "Thewarmth of my welcome was like oldtimes, but I was hardly prepared forBlank's appearance. He was much~r than when I had last seenhim; his --, which I had remembered as downright --, was nowquite --. His --s, too, were nolonger as I had known them. All inall, he seemed like a man who had~d, if I may be permitted theword."

Reader and author alike are thoroughly frightened by the wayBlank is looking, and here is just themoment to plant another disturbingtrifle: "I could not help noticing, aswe exchanged greetings, Blank's--; it was very old, as 1 could tell

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FlcnON

at a glance, and ofcurious workman..ship." (This item could be almostanything - Blank's clock, teapot,set of false teeth, or what you will. 1tmay' be that nothing will come of itanyhow, but there it is, if the authorfinds later on that he needs it. Mean..while, it sets the reader to breathingnoisily.)

"The room to which 'Blankshowed me seemed cheery enough,"the story goes on, "but I was struckby the huge -- which occupiedalmost one entire wall. Once ortwice, as 1 turned suddenly andlooked at it, I could have sworn thatit was --ing, but this, of course,was absurd. -·-s simply do not--, I told myself."

Let us not linger over Blank'sdinner (unless the author fancieshimself as a food-and-drink expert),and the conversation over the cigarscan be cut short, too. Blank himselfcertainly won't be allowed to givethe story away at this juncture, andthe author is still feeling the ~ffects

of a hard day's --ing. The soonerboth men are in bed, the better.Thus:-

"So far as 1 could tell, my roomwas just as I had left it, but the-seemed even larger_than before. Itsbulk dwarfed everything else, and 1wa~ uncomfortably aware of it as Idropped off to sleep~

"I have no way of judging howlong 1 slept, but suddenly I waswide awake. The room was pitchblack; all was still. Then I heard,faintly and as at a great distance, the

THE ALL-PURPOSE GHOST STORY

sound of--ing. It was as if a very-- --, or a --, were being-ed, far away. I cannot describethe feeling of--, of--, of sheer--, that swept over me. The--ing grew louder. It seemed to becoming from the general directionof the vast -- that I have mentioned. My-- was --. I tried to--, but to no avail. Suddenly Irealized that I could see taking formin the darkness the unmistakableoutlines of a -- (italics)!

"At that point I must have --

113

-- altogether, for the next t;hing Iknew, it was ----, and .Blank·was --ing ------ jug ofhot water.

"I - - - -, Blank--------, and the housewas sold. Shortly afterwards, I cameupon this story in my eveningpaper:-

" 'Workmen --ing an old houseat No. ---- Street discoveredtoday in the wall of a bedroom themummified remains ofa--. Policeare investigating.' "

All too often, ,British writers of science ftction have insisted upon envision-·ing a purely American future, with space dominated hy American spacemen from American spaceports. Arthur C. Clarke is too wise a writer .tosuccumh to the superficial commercialism (HAmerican markets pay better,don't they?") which has prompted such treason.,' and in such novels as theclassic PRELUDE TO SPACE and the hrilliant recent EARTHLIGHT he has seento it that Britain (as is indeed logical and probable) claims her honoredshare in the ~ontjuest of space, Now, in this new story for which you canprovide the title (see page I2J for details), he writes of a situation neverhefore touched on in science fiction - a moving situation which is bound toarise in time, and which only an Englishman (and one as talented asClarke) could write.

'2•

by ARTHUR C. CLARKE

"WHEN HE COMES ABOARD," SAID

Captain Saunders, as he waited forthe landing ramp to extrude itself,"what the devil shall I call him?"

There was a thoughtful silencewhile the navigation officer and theassistant pilot considered this problem in etiquette. Then Mitchelllocked the main control panel, andthe ship's multitudinous mechanisms lapsed into unconsciousness aspower was withdrawn from them.

"The correct ~ddress," he drawledslowly, "is Your Royal Highness."

"Huhf" snorted the captain. "I'llbe damned if I'll call anyone that!"

"In these progressive days," putin Chambers helpfully, "I believe

114

that Sir is quite sufficient. Butthere's no' need to worry if youforget: it's been a long time sinceanyone went to the Tower. Besides,this Henry isn't as tough a proposition as the one who had all thewives."

"From all accounts," addedMitchell, "he's a very pleasantyoung man. Quite intelligent, too.He's often been known to ask peopletechnical questions tha t theycouldn't answer."

Captain Saunders ignored the implications of this remark, beyondresolving that if Prince Henrywanted to know how a Field Compensation Drive generator worked,

?

then Mitchell could do the explaining. He got gingerly to his feetthey'd been operating on half agravity during flight, and now theywere on Earth he felt like a ton ofbricks - and started to make hisway along the corridors that led tothe lower airlock. With an oily purring, the great curving door sidestepped out ·of his way. Adjustingrus smile, he walked out to meet thetelevision cameras and the heir tothe British throne.

The man who would, presumably,one day be Henry IX of Englan<;l,vas still in his early twenties. Hewas slightly below average height,and had fine-drawn, regular featuresthat really lived up to all the genealogical cliches. Captain Saunders,who came from Dallas and had nointention of being impressed by anyPrince, found himself unexpectedlymoved by the wide, sad eyes. Theywere eyes that had seen too manyreceptions and parades, that had hadto watch countless totally uninteresting things, that had never beenallowed to stray far from the carefully planned official routes. Lookingat that proud but weary face, Captain Saunders glimpsed for the firsttime the ultimate loneliness of royalty. All his dislike of that institution became suddenly trivial againstits real defect: what was wrong withthe Crown was the unfairness ofinflicting such. a burden on any human being... ~

The passageways of the Centauruswere too narrow to allow for general

115

sightseeing, and it was soon. clearthat it suited Prince Henry verywell to leave his entourage behind.Once they had begun movingthrough the ship, Saunders lost allhis stiffness and reserve, and withina few minutes was treating. thePrince exactly like any other visiter.He did not realize that one of theearliest lessons royalty has to learnis that of putting people at theirease.

"You. know, Captain," said thePrince wistfully, "this is a, big dayfor us. I've always hoped that oneday it would be possible for spaceships to operate from England. Butit still seems strange to have a portofour own here, after all these years.Tell me - did you ever have muchto do with rockets?"

"Well, I had some training onthem, but they were already on theway out before I graduated. I waslucky: some ~lder men had ,to goback to school and start alloveragain - or else abandon space completely if they couldn't convert tothe new ships."

"It made as much difference asthat?"

"Gh yes - when the rocket went,it was as big as the change from sailto steam. That's an analogy you'lloften hear, by the ~ay. There was aglamor about the old rockets, just asthere was about the old windjammers. These "modern ships haven'tgot it. - When the Centaurus takesoff, she goes up as quietly as a balloon- and as slowly, if she wants to.

But· a rocket blast-off shook theground for miles, and you'd be deaffor days if you were too near thelaunching apron. Still, you'll knowall that from the old news-recordings."

The Prince smiled."Yes," he said. "I've often run

through them at the Palace. I thinkI've watched every incident in allthe pioneering expeditions. I waisorry to see the end of rockets, too.But we could never have had a spaceport here on Salisbury Plain - thevibration would have shaken downStonehenge!' ,

"Stonehenge?" queried Saundersas he held open a hatch and let thePrince through into Hold Number 3.

"Ancient monument - one of themost famous stone circles in theworld. It's really impressive, andabout three thousand years old. Seeit if you can - it's only ten milesfrom here."

Captain Saunders had some difficulty in suppressing a smile. Whatan odd country this was: where else,he wondered, would you find contrasts like this? I t made him feelvery young and raw when he remembered that back home, theAlamo was ancient history, and therewas hardly anything in the whole ofTexas as much as 500 years old. Forthe first time he began to realizewhat tradition meant: it gave PrinceHenry something that he couldnever possess. Poise-self-confi ...dence, yes, that was it. And a pridethat was somehow free from arro'"


gance, because it took itself so muchfor granted that it never had to beasserted.

It was surprising how many questiops Prince Henry managed to askin the 30 minutes that had beenallotted for his tour of the freighter.They were not the routine questionstha t people asked out of politeness,quite uninterested in the ans~ers.

H.R.H. Prince Henry knew a lotabout spaceships, and Captain Saunders felt completely exhausted whenhe handed his distinguished guestback to the reception committee,which had been waiting outside theCentaurus with well-simulated patience.

"Thank you very much, Captain," said the Prince as they shookhands in the airlock. "I've not enjoyed myself so much for ages. Ihope you have a pleasant stay inEngland, and a successful voyage."Then his retinue whisked him awayand the port officials, frustra teduntil now, came aboard to checkthe ship's papers.

"Well," said Mitchell when itwas all over, "what did you think ofour Prince of Wales?"

"He surprised" me," answeredSaunders frankly. "I'd never haveguessed he was a Prince. I alwaysthought they were kind of dumb.But hell, he k!zew the principles ofthe Field Drive! Has he ever been upin space?"

"Once, I think. Just a hop abovethe atmosphere in a Space Forceship. It didn't even reach orbit

?

·before it'came back again - but the'Prime Minister nearly 'had a fit.There were questions in the Houseand editorials in the Times. Everyone decided that the heir to theThrone was too valuable to risk inthese newfangled inventions. So,though he has the rank of Commodore in the ·Royal Space Force, he'snever even been to the Moon."

"The poor guy," said CaptainSaunders.

He had three days to burn, sinceit was not the Captain's job to supeFVise the loading of the ship or:the preflight maintenance. Saundersknew skippers who hung aroundbreathing heavily on the necks ofthe servicing engineers, but hewasn't that type. Besides, he wantedto see London. He had been to Marsand Venus and the Moon, but thiswas his first visit to England. Mitchell and Chambers filled him withuseful information and put him onthe monorail to London before dashing off to see their own families.They would be returning to thespaceport a day before he did, tocheck that everything was in order.It was a great relief having officersone could rely on so implicitly: theywere unimaginative and cautious,but thoroughgoing almost to a fault.·If they said that everything was shipshape, Saunders' knew he could takeoff without qualms.

The sleek streamlined ·cylinderwhistled across the carefully tailoredlandscape. I t was so close to theground. and traveling so swiftly

-{-Ii

that one could' 'only .gather .fleetingimpressions of the towns and fieldsthat flashed by. Everything, thoughtSaunders, was so incredibly compact,and on such a Lilliputian scale. Therewere no open spaces, no fields morethan a mile long in any direction. Itwas enough to give a Texan claustrophobia - particularly a Texanwho also happened to be a space-pilot. .

The··sharply defined edge of London appeared like the bulwarks ofsome walled 'cityon the horizon.With few exceptions, the buildingswere quite low - perhaps fifteen ortwenty stories in height. The mono-

,rail shot through a narrow canyon,over a very attractive park, acrossa river that was presumably theThames, and then came to rest witha steady, powerful surge of deceleration. A loudspeaker announced, ina modest voice that seemed afraidof being overheard: "This is Paddington. Passengers for the Northplease remain seated." Saunderspulled his baggage down from therack and headed out into the station.

As he made for the entrance to theUnderground, he passed a bookstalland glanced at the magazines ondisplay. About 'half of them, itseemed, carried photographs ofPrince Henry or other members ofthe Royal Family. This, thoughtSaunders,was altogether too muchof a good thing. He also noticed thatall the evening papers showed thePrince entering or leaving theCentaurus, and bought copies to

118

read "in the subway - he begged itspardon, the "tube.U

The editorial comments had amonotonous similarity. At last, theyrejoiced, England need no longertake a back seat among the space"going nations. Now it was possibleto operate a space fleet without re"quiring a million square miles ofdesert: the silent, gravity-defyingships of today could land, if neela ve,in Hyde Park, without even disturbing the ducks on the Serpentine.Saunders found it odd that this sortof patriotism had managed to sur"vive into the age -of space, but heguessed that the British had felt itpretty badly when they'd had toborrow launching sites from theAustralians, the Americans arid theRussians.

The London Underground wasstill, after a centucy and a half,the best transport system in theworld, and it deposited Saunderssafely at his destination less than tenminutes after he had left Paddington. In ten minutes the Centauruscould have covered ;0,000 miles;hut space, after all, was not quite socrowded as this. Nor were the or'"hits of spacecraft so tortuous as thestreets Saunders had to negotiate toreach his hotel. All attempts tostraighten out London had faileddismally, and it was fifteen minutesbefore he completed the last hun...dred yards of his journey.

He stripped off his jacket andcollapsed thankfully on his bed.Three quiet, carefree days all to him-


self: it seemed too good to be true.It was. He had barely taken a deep

breath when the phone rang."Captain Saunders? I'm so glad

we found you. This is the B.B.e. Wehave a program called In Town Tonight and we were wondering • • ."

The thud of the airlock door wasthe sweetest sound Saunders hadheard for days. Now he was safe:nobody could get at him here in hisarmored fortress, which would soonbe far out in the freedom of space.It was not ,.that he had been treatedbadly: on the contrary, he had beentreated altogether too well. He hadmade four (or was it five?) appearances on various TV programs; hehad been to more parties than hecould remember; he had acquiredseveral hundred new friends and(the way his head felt now) forgottenall his old ones.

"Who started the rumor," he saidto Mitchell as they met at the port,"that the British were reserved andstandoffish? Heaven help me' if Iever meet a demonstrative Englishman."

"I take it," replied Mitchell,"that you had a good time."

"Ask me tomorrow," Saundersreplied. "I'll be at home then."

~~I saw you on that quiz programlast night," rema~ked Chambers."You looked pretty ghastly."

"Thank you: that's jus t the sortof sympathetic encouragement Ineed at the moment. I'd like to seeyou think of. a synonym for jejune

after you'd been up until three.inthe motnihg~"

"Vapid," replied Chamberspromptly.

"Insipid," said ~1itchell, not to beoutdone.

"You win. Let's have those overhaul schedules and see what the engineers have been up to."

Once seated at the control desk,Captain Saunde~s quickly becamehis usual efficient self. He was homeagain, and his training took over. Heknew exactly what to do, and woulddo it with automatic precision. Toright and left of him, Mitchell andChambers were checking their instruments and calling the controltower.

It took them an hour to carry outthe elabora te preflight rou tine.When the last signature had beenattached to the last sheet of instructions, and the last red light on themonitor panel had turned to green,Saunders flopped back in his seatand lit a cigaret. They had ten minutes to spare before takeoff.

"One day," he said, "I'm going tocome to England incognito to findwhat makes the place tick. I don'tunderstand ho"w you car:t crowd somany people onto one little islandwithout its sinking."

"Huh," snorted Chambers. "Youshould see Holland. That makesEngland look as wide open as Texas."

"And then there's this RoyalFamily business. Do you know,wherever I went everyone kept asking me how I got on with Prince

Henry, what .we!d talked abQut,didn't I think he was a fine guy, andso on. Frankly, I got fed up with it.I can't imagine how you've managedto stand it for a thousand years."

"Don't think that the RoyalFamily's been popular all the time,".replied Mitchell. "Remember whathappened to Charles the First? Andsome of the things we said aboutthe early Georges were quite as rudeas the remarks vour people madelater."

"We just happen to like tradition," said Chambers. "We're notafraid to change when the timecomes, but as far as the Royal Famity is concerned . . . well, it'sunique and we're rather fond of it.Just the way you feel about theStatue of Liberty."

"Not a fair example. I don'tthink it's right to put human beingsup on a pedestal and treat them asif they're - well, minor deities.Look at Prince Henry, for instance.Do you think he'll ever have achance of doing the things he reallywants to do? I saw him three timeson TV when I was in bondon. Thefirst time he was opening a newschool somewhere; then he wasgiving a speech to the WorshipfulCompany of Fishmongers at theGuildhall (I swear I'm· not makingthat up) and finally he was receivingan address of welcome from theMayor of Podunk, or whatever yourequivalent is." ("Wigan," inter~

jected Mitchell.) "I think I'd ratherbe in jail than live that sort of life.

120

Why. can't you leave the poor guyalone?"

For once, neither Mitchell norChambers rose to the challenge. In...deed,. they maintained a somewhatfrigid silence. That's torn it, thoughtSaunders. I should have kept mybig mouth shut; now I've hurt- theirfeelings. I should have rememberedthat advice I read somewhere: "TheBritish have two religions: cricketand the Royal Family. Never at-tempt to criticize either."

The awkward pause was brokenby the radio from the spaceportcontroller.

"Control to CtmtauruJ. Your flightlane clear. OK to lift."

"Takeoff program starting ...now!" replied Saunders, throwingthe master switch. Then he leanedback, his eyes taking in the entirecontrol panel, his hands clear of theboard ·but ready for instant action.

He was tense but compktely can"fident. Better brains than hisbrains of metal and crystal and flash-ing electron streams - were incharge of the Centaurus now. Ifnecessary, h~ could take command,but he had never yet lifted a shipmanually and never expected to doso. If the automatics failed, hewould cancel the takeoff and sithere on Earth until the fault hadbeen cleared.

The main field went on, andweight ebbed from the Centaurus.There were protesting groans fromthe ship's hull and structure as the'strains redistributed themselves. The


curved arms of the· -landing .cradlewere carrying no load now; theslight~st breath of wind would ·carrythe freighter away into the sky.

Control called from the tower:"Your weight now zero: checkcalibration."

Saunders looked at his meters.The upthrust of the field should nowexactly equal the weight of theship, and the meter readings shouldagree with the totals on the loadingschedules. In at least one instancethis check had revealed the presenceof a stowaway on. board a spaceship- the gauges were as sensitive asthat.

"One million, five hundred andsixty thousand, four hundred andtwenty kilograms," Saunders readoff from the thrust indicators."Pretty good - it checks to withinfifteen kilos. The first time I've beenunderweight, though. You couldhave taken on some- Inore candyfor that plump girl-friend of yoursin Port Lowell, Mitch."

The assistant pilot gave a rathersickly grin. He had never quitelived down a blind date on Marswhich had given him a completelyunwarranted reputation for preferring statuesque blondes.

There was no sense of motion, butthe Centaurus was now climbing upinto the summer sky as her weightwas not only neutralized but reversed. To the watchers below, shewould be a swiftly mounting star,a silver globule falling through andbeyond the clouds. Around her, the

blue of the atmosphere was deepeninginto the eternal darkness of space.Like a bead moving along an invisible wire, the freighter was followingthe pattern of radio waves thatwould lead her from world to world.

This, thought Captain Saunders,was his twenty-sixth takeoff fromEarth. But the wonder would neverdie, nor would he ever outgrow thefeeling of power it gave him to sithere at the control panel, the masterof forces beyond even the dreams ofMankind's ancient gods. No twodepartures were ever the same:some were into the dawn, sometowards the sunset, some above acloud-veiled Earth, some throughclear and sparkling skies. Spaceitself might be unchanging, but onEarth the same pattern neyer recurred, and no man ever lookedtwice at .the same landscape or thesame sky. Down there the Atlanticwaves were marching eternally towards Europe, and high above them- but so far below the eentaurus!the glittering bands of cloud wereadvancing before the same winds.England began to merge into thecontinent, and the European coastline became foreshortened and mistyas it sank hull-down beyond thecurVe of the world. At the frontierof the west, a fugitive stain on thehorizon, was the first hint of America. With a single glance, CaptainSaunders could span all the leaguesacross which Columbus had laboredhalf a thousand years ago.

With the. silence of limitless

121

power, the ship shook itself· freefrom the last bonds of Earth. To anoutside observer, the only sign ofthe energies it was expending wouldhave been the dull red glow from theradiation fins· around the vessel'sequator, as the heat loss from thernass-converters was dissipated intospace.

"14:03:45," wrote Captain Saunders neatly in the log. "Esca.pe velocity attained. Course deviationnegligible."

There was little point in makingthe en~ry. The modest 25,~oo milesan hour which had been the almostunattainable goal of the first astronauts had no practical significancenow, since the Centaurus was stillaccelerating and would continue togain speed for hours. But it had aprofound psychological meaning.Until this moment, if power hadfailed, they would have fallen backto Earth. But now gravity couldnever recapture them: they hadachieved the freedom of space, andcould take their pick of the planets.In practice, ofcourse, there would beseveral kinds of hell to pay if theydid not pick on Mars and delivertheir cargo according to plan. ButCaptain Saunders, like all spacemen,was fundamentally a romantic. Evenon a milk-run like this he wouldsometimes dream of the ringed gloryof Saturn, or the sombre Neptunianwastes, lit by the distant fires of theshrunken sun.

One hour after takeoff, accordingto the hallowed. ritual, Chambers

·I.~'

lrit the course computer to its owndeyices and·· produced the threeglasses that lived beneath the charttable. As he drank the traditionalmast to Newton, Oberth and Einstein, Saunders wondered how thislittle ceremony had originated.Space crews had certainly beendoing it for at least 60 years: perhapsit could be traced back to the legeridary rocket engineer who made theremark: "I've burnt more alcohol insixty seconds than you've ever soldacross this lousy bar."

Two hours later, the last coursecorrection that the tracking stationson Earth could give them had beenfed into the computer. From now00, until Mars came sweeping upahead, they were on their own. Itwas ,a lonely thought, yet a curiously exhilarating one. Saunderssavored it in his mind. There werejust the three of them here - anqno one else within a million miles.

In the circumstances, the detonation of an atomic bomb could hardlyhave been more shattering than themodest knock on the cabin door.

Captain Saunders had never beenso startled in his life. With a yelpthat ,had already left him before hehad a chance- to suppress it, he shotout of his seat and rose a full yardbefore the ship's residual gravityfield dragged him back. Chambersand Mitchell, on the other hand,behaved with traditional Britishphlegm. They swiveled in theirbucket seats,. stared at the door, and


then waited' for their captain to takeaction.

It took Saunders several seconds torecover. Had he been confrontedwith what might be ·called a normalemergency, he would already havebeen halfway into a spacesuit. But adiffident knock on the door of thecontrol cabin, when everyone in theship was sitting inside, was not a fairtest.

A stowaway was simply impossible. The danger had been so obvious,right from the beginning ofcommercial spaceflight, that the moststringent precautions had been takenagainst it. One of his officers, Saunders knew, would always have beenonduty during loading; .no one couldpossibly have crept in unobserved.Then there had been the detailedpreflight inspection, carried out byboth Mitchell arid Chambers. Finally, there was the weight check atthe moment before takeoff; thatwas conclusive. No, a stowaway wastotally ...

The knock on .the door soundedagain. Captain Saunders clenchedhis fists and squared his jaw. In a fewminutes, he thought, some romanticidiot was going to be very, verysorry.

"Open the door, Me. Mitchell,"Saunders growled. In a single longstride, the assistant pilot crossed thecabin and jerked open the hatch.

For an age, it seemed, no onespoke. Then the stowaway, waveringslightly in the low' gravity, cameinto the cabin. He was completely

?

self-possessed, and looked verypleased with himself.

"Good afternoon, Captain Saunders," he said, "I must apologise forthis intr~sion."

Saunders swallowed hard. Then,as the pieces of the jigsaw fell intoplace, he looked first at Mitchell,then at Chambers. Both of his of...ficers stared guilelessly back at himwith expressions of ineffable innocence. "So that's it," he said bitterly.There was no need for any explanations: everything was perfectly clear.It was easy to picture the complicated negotiations, the midnightmeetings, the falsification of records,the off-loading of non-essential cargoes that his trusted colleagues hadbeen conducting behind his back.He was sure it was a most interestingstory, but he didn't want to hearabout it now. He was too busy wondering what the Manual of SpaceLaw would have to say about asituation like this, though he was

123"

already gloomily <;ertain that itwould be of no use to him at al1~

It was too late to turn back, ofcourse: the conspirators wouldn'thave made an elementary miscalculation like that. He would just haveto make the best of what looked likebeing the trickiest voyage in hiscareer.

He was still trying to think ofsomething to say when the PRIORITY

signal started flashing on the radioboard. The stowaway looked at hiswatch.

"I was expecting that," he ·said."It's probably the Prime Minister.I think I'd better speak to the poor.man." .

Saunders thought so too."Very well, Your Royal High...

ness," he said sulkily.It was the Prime Minister all

right, and he sounded very upset.Several times he used the phrase"your duty to your people" andonce there was a distinct catch in his

WIN $200.00by submitting the best title for this story!JUST FILL IN your titIe suggestion on the coupon on page 124 or on a reasonable facsimile.... Entries must be in by July 5, 1955, and the $200 prizewill be awarded by July 18, 1955.... Titles will be judged on the basis ofaptness and effectiveness. . . . The winning title will be selected by the editorial staffofThe Magazine ofFantasy and Science Fiction and their decisionwill be accepted as final; in case ofa tie duplicate prizes will be awarded..•.No entries can be returned. . . . This contest is open to everyone exceptemployees of Fantasy and Science Fiction or Mercury Publications, Inc.,and their families.

124thr{)at .as hesaid something about"devotion of your subjects to theCrown."

While this emotional haranguewas in progress, Mitchell leaned overto Saunders and whispered in hisear:

"The old boy's on a sticky wicket,and he knows it. The people will bebehind the Prince when they hearwhat's happened. Everybody knowshe's been trying to get into spacefor years."

"Shush!'·' said Chambers. ThePrince was speaking, his worclswinging back across the abyss thatDOW sundered him from the islandhe would one day rule.

"I am sorry, Mr. Prime Minister,"he said, "if I've caused you anyalarm..I will return as soon as it isconvenient. Someone has to doeverything for the first time, and Ifelt the moment had come for amember of my family to leaveEarth. My great-grandfathers were


sailors before they became Kings ofa maritime nation. This will be avaluable part of my education, and·will make me more fitted to caeryout my duty. Goodby."

He dropped the microphone andwalked over to the observation window - the only spaceward-lookingport on the entire ship. Saunderswatched him standing there, proudand lonely - but contented now.

No one spoke for a long time.Then Prince Henry tore his gazeaway from the blinding splendorbeyond the port, looked at CaptainSaunders, and smiled.

"Where's the galley, Captain?"he asked. "I may.be out of practice,but when I used to go scouting Iwas the best cook in my patrol."

Saunders slowly relaxed, thensmiled back. The tension seemed tolift from the control room. Marswas still a long way off, but he knewnow that this wasn't going to besuch a bad trip after all.

....................................................TITLE CONTEST COUPONIMy title for Arthur C. Clarke's story in the July i88ue is:

NAHE _

ADDBESS _

CITY ~z,ONE STATE _

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION, 471 PARK AVENUE, ·N. Y. 22, N. Y.

Ther,' s something peculillrly haunting ahout seals, " not ahle to live eitherin the sea or on the land",; and as poetically evocative a story as this maga~ine has reprinted was Eric Linklater's tale of the love of a sealman, Sealskin Trousers (F&SF, April, I9J2). Now we have a different treatmentof the same .rad and disturbing theme by none less than the Poet Laureate ofEngland, who proves in this 40-year-old and almost forgotten story that folk-fanta~y can be pure beauty.

erhe Sealmanhy JOHN MASEFIELD

"THE SEALS IS PRETTY WHEN THEY "One time there was a man of thedo be playing," said the old woman. O'Donnells came here, and' he was"Ah, I seen them frisking their tails a bad man. A saint in Heaven wouldtill you'd think it was rocks with have been bothered to find good inthe seas beating on them, the time him. He died of the fever that camethe storm's on. I seen the merrows before the Famine. I was a girl then;of the sea sitting yonder on the dark and if you'd seen the people in themstone, and they had crowns on them, times; there wasn't enough to buryand they were laughing. The mer.. them. The pigs used to eat them inrows is not good; it's not good to the loanings. And their mouthssee too many of them. They are would be all green where they'dbeautiful like young men in their eaten grass from want of food. Ifshirts playing hurley. They're as you'd seen the houses there wasbeautiful as anything you would be then, indeed, you'd think the placeseeing in Amerikey or Australeyey, bewitched. But the cabins is all fellor any place. The seals is beautiful in, like yonder, and there's no dane..too, going through the water in the ing or fiddling, or anything at all,young of the day; but they're not and all of my friends is gone toso beautiful as them. The seals is Amerikey or Australeyey; I've no,no good either. It's a great curse one at all to bury me, unless it'skeeps them the way they are, not that humpy o,ne who comes here,able to live either in the sea or on and she's as proud as a Jew. She'sthe land." She shook her head sadly. no cause to be proud, with a hump

From MAINSAIL HAUL, hy Jolm Masefield, copyright 1913 antl1951 by the authorand used with permission of the Macmillan Co., publishers.

125

I:i6

.on-her; her fat~er was just a poorma~, the same as any.

"This O'Donnell I was tellingyou~ My father was at his wake."And they'd the candles lit, and theywere drinking putcheen. My fatherwas nearest the door, and a fear took

- him, and he got up, with his glass inhis hand, and he cried out: 'There'ssomething here is not good.' Andanother of them said: 'There's some-thing wants to get out.' And an-other said: 'It's himself wants to goout into the dark night.' And an"other said: 'For the love of God,open the door.' So my father flungthe door open; and, outside, themoon shone down to the sea. Andthe corpse of the O'Donnell was allblue, and it got up with the sheetknotted on it, and walked out with..out leaving -a track. So they fol ..lowed· it, saying their prayers toAlmighty God, and it walked ondown to the sea. And when it cameto the edge of the sea, the sea waslike a flame before it. And it bowedthere, three times; and each time itrose up it screamed. And all theseals, and all the merrows; and allthem that's under the tides, theycame up to welcome it. They calledout to the corpse and laughed; andthe corpse laughed back, and fell onto the sand. My father and the othermen saw the wraith pass from it,into the water, as it fell.

"It was like a little black boy,laughing; with great long arms onhim. It was all bald and black; and-its hands moved like he was tickling.


"And after that the priest hadhim buried, like they buried theOld Ones; but the wraith passedinto a bull seal. Yau would be fearedto see the like of the bull seal. Therewas a man of the O'Kanes fired ablessed shilling at him, and the sealroared up at him and tore his armacross. There was marks like blackstars on him after till he died. Andthe bull seal walked like a man atthe change of the moon, like a big,tall, handsome man stepping theroads. YC?u'd be feared, sir, if yousaw the like. He set his eyes onyoung Norah O'Hara. Lovely shewas. She'd little ways, sir, woulddraw the heart out of an old bach..elor. Wasn't it a great curse heshould take her when there was oldhags the like of Mary .that has nomore beauty than a withered broomthat you wouldn't be" bothered tomend, or a done-out old gather..upof a duck that a hungry dog wouldblush to be biting? Still, he tookNorah.

"She had a little son, and the littleson was a sealman; the priestwouldn't sign him with the cross.When Norah died he used alwaysto be going to the sea; he wouldalways be swimming. He'd little softbrown hair, like a seal's, the prettiestyou would be seeing. He used totalk to the seals. My father was com-ing home one night from Carnmore,and he saw the little sealman in thesea; and the seals were playing withhim, singing songs. But my fatherwas feared to hear; he ran away.

THE SEALMAN

They stoned the sealman, whiles,after that; but whiles theV didn'tstone it. They had a kindness for it,although it had no holy water on it.It was a very young thing to bewalking the world, and it was abeautiful wee thing, with its eyes sopretty; so it grew up to be a man.

"Them that live in the water, theyhave ways of calling people. Themwho passed this sealman, they feltthe call in their hearts. Indeed, ifyou passed the sealman, stepping theroads, you would get a queer twistfrom the way he looked at you.

"And he set his love on a younggirl of the O'Keefe's, a little younggirl with no more in her than theflower on its stalk. You would seethem in the loanings coming home,or in the bright of the day going.There was a strong love was on themtwo young things; it was like thelove of the Old Ones that took ninedeaths to kill. They would be tellingKate it was not right she should sether love on one who wasn't like ourselves; but there's few indeed as theyoung'll listen. They are all forpleasure, all for pleasure, before theyare withered hags. And at last theyshut her up a~ home, to keep herfrom seeing him. And he came byher cabin to the west of the road,calling. There was a strong lovecame up to her at that, and she putdown her sewing on the table, aOnd'Mother,' she says, 'there's no lock,and no key~ and no bolt, and nodoor. There's no iron, nor no stone,nor anything at all will keep me this

127

night from the man I love.' Andosheowent out into the moonlight to him~

there by the bush where the flowersis pretty, beyond the river. And hesays to her: 'You are all of the beautyof the world, will you come whereI go, over the waves of the sea?'And she says to him: 'My treasureand strength,' she says, 'I wouldfollow you on the frozen hills, myfeet bleeding.'

"Then they went down into thesea together, and the moon made atrack upon the sea, and they walkeddown it; it was like a flame beforethem. There was no fear at all on her,anIy a great love like the love ofthe Old Ones, that was strongerthan the touch of the fool. She hada little white throat, and little cheekslike flowers, and she went down intothe sea with her man, who wasn't aman at all. She was drowned, ofcourse. It's like he never thoughtthat she wouldn't bear the sea likehimself.

"When it come light they saw thesealman sitting yonder on the rock,and she lying by him dead, with herface as white as a flower. He wascrying and beating her hands tobring life to her. It would havedrawn pity from a priest to hearhim though he wasn't Christian.And at last, when he saw that shewas drowned, he took her in hisarms and slipped into the sea like aseal. And he swam, carrying her,with his head up, laughing andlaughing and laughing, and no oneever saw him again at all."

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Fantasy & Science Fiction, July 1955