tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43365924428080497152023-12-09T12:40:43.988-08:00New Adventures in Sci-fiChris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-74853204991487745222023-01-17T17:58:00.000-08:002023-01-17T17:58:18.841-08:00Art - Kentaro Kameda<p style="text-align: center;">Art - <a href="https://www.this-is-cool.co.uk/the-science-fiction-art-of-kentaro-kameda/" target="_blank">Kentaro Kameda</a> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdHTBGR1Ygg9JQ2mhgGAYe7tAByAfIbqZznjol-69lSUS9YeTng30Su56o78gwcfVCzrkiou-AY_eVvA2EQeT3uDDQSF7djYx9aK2CElnaQiNAhw30eywbLcmzI0wI-KL5G6q-ies3eVNe63V908rx0A-wusBpWD6yyT-Zl3LgkPM-kr3iA78ioRo/s1920/the-digital-art-of-kentaro-kameda-14.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="1920" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdHTBGR1Ygg9JQ2mhgGAYe7tAByAfIbqZznjol-69lSUS9YeTng30Su56o78gwcfVCzrkiou-AY_eVvA2EQeT3uDDQSF7djYx9aK2CElnaQiNAhw30eywbLcmzI0wI-KL5G6q-ies3eVNe63V908rx0A-wusBpWD6yyT-Zl3LgkPM-kr3iA78ioRo/w400-h240/the-digital-art-of-kentaro-kameda-14.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">14 - untitled</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrkwps5OHpHnBTmmltMABoGKAoYkIFW42GTDVpuwJ9joCefQQjfXU6eC0L9o1H1Ih4GBIXFog5JZxhrOTakyuV0HFNVsNSZAsOYqzfEzkvftBqweZvpj2eHlCBPfAWwHV7ap7edPVIKfjimqnEd2VuH2MLxf_JT575wipvp9MQZDlpGJaIgQ1lVED/s1920/bad%20landing%20or%20blue%20desert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="1920" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrkwps5OHpHnBTmmltMABoGKAoYkIFW42GTDVpuwJ9joCefQQjfXU6eC0L9o1H1Ih4GBIXFog5JZxhrOTakyuV0HFNVsNSZAsOYqzfEzkvftBqweZvpj2eHlCBPfAWwHV7ap7edPVIKfjimqnEd2VuH2MLxf_JT575wipvp9MQZDlpGJaIgQ1lVED/w400-h173/bad%20landing%20or%20blue%20desert.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">bad landing / blue desert</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXw8MzFc9dK-OvOnh8CUZppH34LN2JZISmPCNycHZ7PTdg9cP_WimEDO2I83j3P1E6bGadILlveDTTnbSRwoa0N1ns3lAjPUIZoAYdx4xlSiza3JfHv_PhX6WIqkR55p2Znzj1PmOFVUnc4fnVQz5XUSMni1W18iM6yR0krrwjMKuIYxbGyJ5iaSvi/s1920/riverside%20village.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="1920" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXw8MzFc9dK-OvOnh8CUZppH34LN2JZISmPCNycHZ7PTdg9cP_WimEDO2I83j3P1E6bGadILlveDTTnbSRwoa0N1ns3lAjPUIZoAYdx4xlSiza3JfHv_PhX6WIqkR55p2Znzj1PmOFVUnc4fnVQz5XUSMni1W18iM6yR0krrwjMKuIYxbGyJ5iaSvi/w400-h168/riverside%20village.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">riverside village</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_j875TZnGeh_2q80_imegw1jPTzz-qxfY-gGEs8yC7Gedw7n_HmjfQQsbDVl0LhSRq08AkW5jJNnlAZ4-htCCH_lji3Xchmt3uPtbKSdVG4pcNm7cwg3VkVW8OZp5a6M2MNUVzSWOL9eAV8YHfDP4RGJwP6TW9Bj7yTSSkZzyFtr3w9uWoP2TpMU5/s2748/scifi%20poster%20art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2748" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_j875TZnGeh_2q80_imegw1jPTzz-qxfY-gGEs8yC7Gedw7n_HmjfQQsbDVl0LhSRq08AkW5jJNnlAZ4-htCCH_lji3Xchmt3uPtbKSdVG4pcNm7cwg3VkVW8OZp5a6M2MNUVzSWOL9eAV8YHfDP4RGJwP6TW9Bj7yTSSkZzyFtr3w9uWoP2TpMU5/w280-h400/scifi%20poster%20art.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">sci-fi poster art</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_FOrA_KjizSOoG8UUDfgy0dMIKo0iSXbdsvzFM4ZCj64zFfvK58FJm75Szxh0KpwC36sem9xJnZS2mDKTedO_Vobk9D2H2cZMPIpBMXpT-lnIHXPqPrRGjl7xpfM2QDM26kXmsiGB4kuvWsR9wNr1EWKqBGcX32EVsnz0hb2JHJAKihecIwWrz7m/s1920/spherical%20vehicle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="1920" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_FOrA_KjizSOoG8UUDfgy0dMIKo0iSXbdsvzFM4ZCj64zFfvK58FJm75Szxh0KpwC36sem9xJnZS2mDKTedO_Vobk9D2H2cZMPIpBMXpT-lnIHXPqPrRGjl7xpfM2QDM26kXmsiGB4kuvWsR9wNr1EWKqBGcX32EVsnz0hb2JHJAKihecIwWrz7m/w400-h226/spherical%20vehicle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">spherical vehicle</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIDdg6fvKeisRZIPYUVDn0e-gO_SXjuwyaHcAu0rxTnWTDRt7hexqOK5BCMrfXWccC3ZSWDrblqZN6swOnncobDxOxn-V-exWbAfGmIAbeTfsdZVWIjKaOEhurFT5UHoX_g8flcp02IxN09HkA8sCq56Z2ZyxJ_tA8WMV-4FKQzuTLrvGV3NhVMJC/s1920/Vehicle%20Design.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="1920" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIDdg6fvKeisRZIPYUVDn0e-gO_SXjuwyaHcAu0rxTnWTDRt7hexqOK5BCMrfXWccC3ZSWDrblqZN6swOnncobDxOxn-V-exWbAfGmIAbeTfsdZVWIjKaOEhurFT5UHoX_g8flcp02IxN09HkA8sCq56Z2ZyxJ_tA8WMV-4FKQzuTLrvGV3NhVMJC/w400-h240/Vehicle%20Design.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Vehicle Design</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjin3FxyQdLjsYmIQhG5JfOJkc9_BJCSbatmP2kIwC4Z7O_IH15sen7M5sIC2OGzJBTgiXQIXvwToMHdORcepNJGPbDrziWExB3skoMhpzrIYhfQ7MhTQ98K2gogb9KB7R0rX-Zw1EvilDxzZDOwRE1o1MvtFkJi73wEft-xL2kOIjVi_gaynwPDwze/s1920/vehicle%20design2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1920" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjin3FxyQdLjsYmIQhG5JfOJkc9_BJCSbatmP2kIwC4Z7O_IH15sen7M5sIC2OGzJBTgiXQIXvwToMHdORcepNJGPbDrziWExB3skoMhpzrIYhfQ7MhTQ98K2gogb9KB7R0rX-Zw1EvilDxzZDOwRE1o1MvtFkJi73wEft-xL2kOIjVi_gaynwPDwze/w400-h185/vehicle%20design2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Vehicle Design 2</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNE3vO6EYJKXD3eM-obYkdf5Z9MAYXStUUAHTV1r7IOLRDA3kkx3Xjup5B00nKL20PN1zDaWWyM-hVsTW2QxIaVWkrgC-vKEl7bZWpqtcbW9SIarKjvV5spT3Y3tpaWmnRxHf75FVZxpDNaTHEVoNTq_x8JfMIo1VypFIlCzT96Y4oBEfCX01Aif0T/s1920/riverside%20village%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="892" data-original-width="1920" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNE3vO6EYJKXD3eM-obYkdf5Z9MAYXStUUAHTV1r7IOLRDA3kkx3Xjup5B00nKL20PN1zDaWWyM-hVsTW2QxIaVWkrgC-vKEl7bZWpqtcbW9SIarKjvV5spT3Y3tpaWmnRxHf75FVZxpDNaTHEVoNTq_x8JfMIo1VypFIlCzT96Y4oBEfCX01Aif0T/w400-h186/riverside%20village%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">riverside village 2</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-52000809800170243832023-01-15T00:30:00.002-08:002023-11-13T19:18:42.684-08:00Through the LEaves<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>Through the LEaves</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by Chris Morton</b></span></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The
storm ends on the seventh day and the ship pulls in close enough for
our shuttle to make the final run in to the island.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>I
have all my equipment, suffice to say. Telescopes and spare lenses.
Two tripods. The main telescope and one other of smaller size, easier
to carry and that would stand up to better conditions. I will not
tire the recipient with the details (astronomers will know I am using
the John Hope models. For non-astronomers this name will mean
nothing).</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>I
have food, water, and the means to replenish my rations. I have the
opportunity to fish, and the practice. Apparently there are bOar on
the island. And mOnkeys.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The
shuttle took us in through waves.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>And
I pulled my crate along the beach, looking at where to set up camp.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>I
have spare clothes, dried meat, a pillow (the one luxury I allowed
myself); torch, knives and fire-sparks. I have a saw, a hammer and
nails. No books, no holo-novels; no music.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>But
I have my knowledge of survival and my sanity remains, despite what
they say.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Up
above the asteroid is invisible to the naked eye as I drag my crate
along the beach of pure white sand. There is a cool breeze while the
twin Solaris bear down. Solaris-4 and -5. I must be careful not to
get burnt.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>...</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>This story appears in the collection <i>Adventures in Sci-fi</i>. To continue reading, click <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/zh_TW/Chris-Morton-ebook/dp/B07NCX62XM/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">here</a>.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-23064256366001575402023-01-04T20:35:00.003-08:002023-01-06T18:39:00.874-08:00Bookspot - Moon Life by Hank Fabian and Marlene Fabian<p style="text-align: center;"> Bookspot - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Moon-Life-Hank-Fabian-ebook/dp/B09BPMVX44/ref=sr_1_1?crid=18EBQ2QCIL39F&keywords=moon+life+by+hank+fabian&qid=1672892656&s=digital-text&sprefix=moon+life+by+hank+fabian%2Cdigital-text%2C440&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Moon Life</a> by <a href="http://storystyles.com" target="_blank">Marlene Fabian</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0B9HTNXX7?ingress=0&visitId=22238d85-2d81-4bbf-9b6c-9abe527521a5" target="_blank">Hank Fabian</a></p><p><br /></p><p><span face="Amazon Ember, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #0f1111;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">A fantastic blend of believable science and great storytelling.</span></span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2D7ONBCTGzeVQebvua1pPX6tr-WFKJVzKLH8pHCA8i4uZXilNUEkJGh3E_D0d1mEtPUGtNJJmhrL5YR68CSAO-vhKHrCdMt1skQESLSfnPPfOR6nCHUPp4yYy2pnipMUJu9KRdSGW8ygI3mJVu-DmWKcJeR6FZiJUxYmVSzV4nWGEqMzWJRaR_sdp/s346/419D4ZVOYNL._SY346_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="229" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2D7ONBCTGzeVQebvua1pPX6tr-WFKJVzKLH8pHCA8i4uZXilNUEkJGh3E_D0d1mEtPUGtNJJmhrL5YR68CSAO-vhKHrCdMt1skQESLSfnPPfOR6nCHUPp4yYy2pnipMUJu9KRdSGW8ygI3mJVu-DmWKcJeR6FZiJUxYmVSzV4nWGEqMzWJRaR_sdp/w265-h400/419D4ZVOYNL._SY346_.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br /><p><span face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px;">It is the year 2051 and the International Space Institute has just sent two rival astrobiologists to search for extraterrestrial life on Europa, the mysterious ice moon of Jupiter. What they encounter could not only revolutionize science, it might make one of them the most famous person on Earth. Or does the Universe have other plans?</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-61013788860194434662023-01-03T18:15:00.001-08:002023-01-03T18:15:22.182-08:00Egocentric Orbit by John Cory<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>Egocentric Orbit</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by John Cory</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Near the end of his fifteenth orbit
as Greenland slipped by noiselessly below, he made the routine
measurements that tested the operation of his space capsule and
checked the automatic instruments which would transmit their stored
data to Earth on his next pass over Control. Everything normal; all
mechanical devices were operating perfectly.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>This information didn't surprise him,
in fact, he really didn't even think about it. The previous orbits
and the long simulated flights on Earth during training had made such
checks routine and perfect results expected. The capsules were
developed by exhaustive testing both on the ground and as empty
satellites before entrusting them to carry animals and then the first
human.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He returned to contemplation of the
panorama passing below and above, although as he noted idly, above
and below had lost some of their usual meaning. Since his capsule,
like all heavenly bodies, was stable in position with respect to the
entire universe and, thanks to Sir Isaac Newton and his laws, never
changed, the Earth and the stars alternated over his head during each
orbit. "Up" now meant whatever was in the direction of his
head. He remembered that even during his initial orbit when the Earth
first appeared overhead he accepted the fact as normal. He wondered
if the other two had accepted it as easily.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>For there had been two men hurled
into orbit before he ventured into space. Two others who had also
passed the rigorous three-year training period and were selected on
the basis of over-all performance to precede him. He had known them
both well and wondered again what had happened on their flights. Of
course, they had both returned, depending upon what your definition
of return was. The capsules in which they had ventured beyond Earth
had returned them living. But this was to be expected, for even the
considerable hazards of descent through the atmosphere and the
terrible heating which occurred were successfully surmounted by the
capsule.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Naturally, it had not been expected
that the satellites would have to be brought down by command from the
ground. But this, too, was part of the careful planning – radio
control of the retro-rockets that move the satellite out of orbit by
reducing its velocity. Of course, ground control was to be used only
if the astronaut failed to ignite the retro-rockets himself. He
remembered everyone's surprise and relief when the first capsule was
recovered and its occupant found to be alive. They had assumed that
in spite of all precautions he was dead because he had not fired the
rockets on the fiftieth orbit and it was necessary to bring him down
on the sixty-fifth.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Recovery alive only partially solved
the mystery, for the rescuers and all others were met by a haughty,
stony silence from the occupant. Batteries of tests confirmed an
early diagnosis: complete and utter withdrawal; absolute refusal to
communicate. Therapy was unsuccessful.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The second attempt was similar in
most respects, except that command return was made on the
thirty-first orbit after the astronaut's failure to de-orbit at the
end of the thirtieth. His incoherent babble of moons, stars, and
worlds was no more helpful than the first.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Test after test confirmed that no
obvious organic damage had been incurred by exposure outside of the
Earth's protective atmosphere. Biopsy of even selected brain tissues
seemed to show that microscopic cellular changes due to prolonged
weightlessness or primary cosmic-ray bombardment, which had been
suggested by some authorities, were unimportant. Somewhat
reluctantly, it was decided to repeat the experiment a third time.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The launching was uneventful. He was
sent into space with the precision he expected. The experience was
exhilarating and, although he had anticipated each event in advance,
he could not possibly have foreseen the overpowering feeling that
came over him. Weightlessness he had experienced for brief periods
during training, but nothing could match the heady impression of
continuous freedom from gravity.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Earth passing overhead was also to be
expected from the simple laws of celestial mechanics but his feeling
as he watched it now was inexpressible. It occurred to him that
perhaps this was indeed why he was here, because he could appreciate
such experiences best. He had been told the stars would be bright,
unblinking, and an infinitude in extent, but could mere descriptions
or photographs convey the true seeing?</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>On his twenty-first orbit he
completed his overseeing the entire surface of the planet in
daylight. He had seen more of Earth than anyone able to tell about
it, but only he had the true feeling of it. The continents were
clearly visible, as were the oceans and both polar ice caps. The
shapes were familiar but in only a remote way. A vague indistinctness
borne of distance served to modify the outlines and he alone was
seeing and understanding. On the dark side of the planet large cities
were marked by indistinct light areas which paled to insignificance
compared to the stars and his sun.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He speculated about the others who
had only briefly experienced these sights. Undoubtedly they weren't
as capable of fully grasping or appreciating any of these things as
he was. It was quite clear that no one else but he could encompass
the towering feeling of power and importance generated by being alone
in the Universe.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>At the end of the twenty-fifth orbit
he disabled the radio control of the retro-rockets and sat back with
satisfaction to await the next circuit of his Earth around Him.</b></span></p><p><br /></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__512_406586733"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>This story is taken from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=science+fiction+short+stories&submit_search=Go%21" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>. The </i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>etext was produced from Outstanding Science Fiction May 1960. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-87323319383309671092022-12-23T04:35:00.001-08:002022-12-23T04:38:35.227-08:00Bookspot - Neon Goldfish by S. C. Jensen<p style="text-align: center;">Bookspot - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Neon-Goldfish-HoloCity-Case-Files-ebook/dp/B09N9TY5QJ/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2E2VIO3MUZW2C&keywords=neon+goldfish&qid=1671506419&s=digital-text&sprefix=neon+goldfish%2Cdigital-text%2C569&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Neon Goldfish by S. C. Jensen</a> </p><p><br /></p><p><span class="a-text-bold a-text-italic" face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">Blade Runner</span><span class="a-text-bold" face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 700;"> meets </span><span class="a-text-bold a-text-italic" face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700;">The Fifth Element</span><span class="a-text-bold" face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 700;"> in this eccentric cyber-noir thriller series about a bleak world ravaged by corrupt leaders, mega-corporations, and crime lords… and the washed-up detective who might be the only one crazy enough to take them on.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />A darkly funny mashup for fans of space opera, cyberpunk, and hard-boiled noir thrillers. Delve into the secrets of this gritty future world, and buckle up for an adventure full of unusual characters, dark humour, and non-stop action.</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOEncZzdCntkWjmgmVg6nEcGuQNQPsw67MWxwPKTGg0gTqSncl00RbQXYERZl8z9TgXBjMd8GH2FdADtD45no5eVgqM8rV2DsyaFKWkPoJ_ZkXA1owDsis02r_SAHkJBMtSdaG8kwFfTKHmmRXSmSuQqAnJEwBlp_hAqnCeXxWnkY8m6yJfSUWLky/s500/513GC4BaNAL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="313" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOEncZzdCntkWjmgmVg6nEcGuQNQPsw67MWxwPKTGg0gTqSncl00RbQXYERZl8z9TgXBjMd8GH2FdADtD45no5eVgqM8rV2DsyaFKWkPoJ_ZkXA1owDsis02r_SAHkJBMtSdaG8kwFfTKHmmRXSmSuQqAnJEwBlp_hAqnCeXxWnkY8m6yJfSUWLky/w250-h400/513GC4BaNAL.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">When Bubbles Marlowe discovers a jaw-dropping bounty on a pair of stolen diamonds, she agrees to find the jewels and bring the thief to justice.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But she soon realizes she’s not the only one after the infamous ice, and the competition is brutal.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The case takes a turn for the depraved when she finds out the true reason the diamonds were stolen.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />By the time she gets wise, she’s in way over her head…</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="a-text-italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="a-text-italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="a-text-italic" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic;">Neon Goldfish</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> is the third stand alone mystery novella in the </span><span class="a-text-bold" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">HoloCity Case Files</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> series, a companion collection to the </span><span class="a-text-bold" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">Bubbles in Space</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> series.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-28706382274056958652022-12-15T19:30:00.000-08:002022-12-15T19:30:12.405-08:00Alien by George O. Smith<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>Alien</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by George O. Smith</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;"><br /></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>The telephone rang and the
lieutenant of police Timothy McDowell grunted. He put down his
magazine, and hastily covered the partially-clad damsel on the front
cover before he answered the ringing phone.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"McDowell," he grunted.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"McDowell," came the
voice in his ear. "I think ye'd better come overe here."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"What's up?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Been a riot at McCarthy's
on Boylston Street."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"That's nothing new,"
growled McDowell, "excepting sometimes it's Hennesey's on
Dartmouth or Kelley's on Massachusetts."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Yeah, but this is
different."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Whut's so different about a
riot in a jernt like McCarthy's on a street like Boylston?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Well, the witnesses say it
wuz started by a guy wearin' feathers instead uv hair."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"A bird, you mean."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Naw. 'Twas a big fella,
according to tales. A huge guy that refused to take off his hat and
they made a fuss. They offered to toss him out until he uncovered,
and when he did, here was this full head of feathers. There was a
general titter that roared up into a full laugh. The guy got mad."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Yeah?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Yeah. He got mad and made a
few swings. 'Twas quite a riot."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"What did McCarthy expect –
a dance? When a guy gets laughed at for having feathers instead of
hair. … Holy St. Patrick! Feathers, did ye say?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Yup."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Look, O'Leary,"
growled McDowell angrily, "you've not been drinkin' yourself,
have ye?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Nary a drop, lieutenant."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"So this bird takes off his
hat and shows feathers. The crowd laughs and he gets mad. Then what?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Well, he tossed the
bartender through the plate glass window, clipped McCarthy on the
button and tossed him across the bar and wrecked about fifteen
hundred dollars worth of fine Irish whiskey. Then he sort of picked
up Eddy, the bouncer, and hit Pete, the waiter, with him. Then,
having started and finished his own riot, the guy takes his drink,
downs it, and stamps out, slamming the door hard enough to break the
glass."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Some character,"
glowed McDowell, admiringly. "But what am I supposed to do?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"McCarthy wants to swear out
a warrant for the guy. But before we do, I want to know more about
this whole thing. First off, what's a man doing wearing feathers
instead of honest hair?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Ask him," grunted
McDowell.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Shall I issue the warrant?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Yeah – disturbing the
peace. He did that, anyway. And if it's some advertising stunt –
this feathers business – I'll have some wiseacre in jail in the
morning. Look, O'Leary, I'll meet you at McCarthy's in ten minutes."
He hung up the phone and snapped the button on his communicator.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Doc?" he barked. "Come
along if you want to. We've got us a guy wearing feathers instead of
hair!"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Trick," growled the
doctor. "Go away. No one can grow feathers instead of hair."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"That's why I want you
along. Come on, Doc. This is an order!"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Confound you and your
orders." He hung up angrily, and the lieutenant heard him
breaking up the poker game as he snapped his own switch closed.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>It was ten minutes to the second
when the car pulled up before McCarthy's. O'Leary was already inside,
talking to a man holding a chunk of raw beef to his eye.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Now," said McDowell,
entering with the doctor on his heels, "what's this about
feathers?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Swear it, lieutenant. An' I
want the devil clapped in jail where he belongs."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Sure now," said
McDowell in a mollifying tone, "and you can prove them feathers
were really growin'?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Sure," snapped
McCarthy. "Here!" and he handed Lieutenant McDowell
something slightly bloody. It was a bit of skin, to which was
attached three tiny feathers. "Just before he bopped me I got me
hands in his scalp to see if they wuz real. They wuz, because they
came hard and he howled and went madman."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell handed the specimen to
Doc. "Examine it, Doc. One, are they real feathers? Two, is that
real human skin, and three, is that human blood?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"That'll take time,"
said the doctor looking at the bloody bit. "Bet that hurts,
though."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Hurts?" grunted
McDowell. "So what?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"By which I mean that he'll
be visiting a doctor or a hospital for treatment. That's no
home-remedy job!"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"O.K.," smiled McDowell
cheerfully. "Now look, McCarthy. We'll get right on it. You've
got your warrant and can prefer charges. Meanwhile there's nothing I
can do here. We'll go back to the station and go to work."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"How about the damages?"
growled the owner.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I'm a policeman, not a
civil lawyer," returned McDowell. "Take it to court when we
catch our – bird."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"A fine force we got,"
grumbled McCarthy belligerently.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell grunted angrily and
turned to O'Leary. "He don't like us," he said.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"McCarthy, have you been
closing promptly at midnight on Saturday night?" demanded
O'Leary. "That's a bad law to break, you know."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I've been lawful,"
returned the barkeep. "And I'll watch me step in the future."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell laughed and he and the
Doc left the place.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Back
at the station, reporters met them with questions. McDowell held up a
hand. "Look, boys," he said with a grin, "this may be
something you can print. It may also be an attempt to ridicule the
force. I'll tell you this much: There was a guy apparently wearing
feathers instead of hair that started a riot in McCarthy's on
Boylston a little while ago. Now if you'll hold off phoning that in
until we check, we'll tell you whether the guy was wearing feathers –
or </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>growing
them</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">!
Also – whether he was human. Mind waiting?"</span></span></b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"We'll wait," came the
chorused reply.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Whatcha going to use for
lead?" asked one reporter of another.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I don't know yet. It
depends whether he was having a frat initiation or was really one of
our fine feathered friends."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell followed the doctor in –
and the reporters followed the lieutenant in. Gag or not, thought
McDowell, these guys will be as good to me as I am to them. And if it
is a gag, we'll show 'em that we know how to find out about such,
anyway.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Doc ignored the room teeming with
people, and went to work. He made test after test, and then pored
through a couple of volumes from his bookcase. Finally he gave that
up and faced the group, casting a glance at McDowell.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell said: "This is off
the record until I find out what he's got to say. If it's O.K., you
get it first hand, O.K.?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>The reporters nodded.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Doc cleared his throat. "The
skin is human – so is the blood. Indications are the feathers were
growing out of the skin, not merely inserted."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"You're certain?"
gasped one reporter.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I'm reasonably sure,"
qualified the doctor. "Skin ... well, skin has certain tests to
prove it. This stuff is human skin, I'm certain. It couldn't be
anything else. The feathers – I tried to classify them, but it will
take a professional ornithologist to do that."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"But Doc," queried the
reporter, "if that's human skin, how can feathers be growing out
of it?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Ask me another," said
the doctor, puzzled.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Huh," grunted the
reporter. "Man from – ?" He shut his trap but quick, but
the words carried enough connotation.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Look," said McDowell,
"you can use that Man from Mars gag if you want to, but don't
say we said so. It's your own idea, see?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Right, lieutenant,"
they said, happy to get this much. It would make a bit of reading,
this item.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Now," said McDowell.
"Doc and I are going over to Professor Meredith's place and ask
him if he knows what kind of feathers these are."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>One reporter spoke up quickly.
"I'm holding mine until we get Meredith's report," he said.
"And I've got a station wagon outside. Come on, lieutenant and
Doc – and any of you mugs that want to ride along."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>There was a grand rush for the
door.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Professor Meredith looked the
feather over carefully, classifying it as best he could. He sorted
through several books, consulted many notes of his own, and made
careful counts of the spines-per-inch along the shaft of the feather.
He noted its coloring carefully and called for a general statement as
to the color, size, and general shape of the feather.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"This is done somewhat like
you file fingerprints," he told the lieutenant. "But here
at home I'm stumped. I've never seen that kind before. However, over
at the university we have a punched-card sorter. We can run through
all known birds and see if any of the feathers agree with this
specimen."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>This time they took Professor
Meredith along with them. Using official sanction, the professor
opened the laboratory and entered the building. It was three hours
later that the professor made his official statement to the police
and to the press.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"This feather is not known
to the scientific world," he said. "However, it does exist,
and that proves that the scientific world does not know everything
there is. I would say, however, that the animal from which this came
is not known in any regular part of the civilized world."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Explain that, Professor
Meredith," requested McDowell.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"It is a small feather –
fully grown. It is in an advanced stage of evolution. Feathers, you
know, evolved from scales and we can tell how far they have come. It
must come from a small bird, which is also evidenced by the fact that
it is not known to man. There are places in the backwaters of the
Amazon where man has not been, and certain spots in Africa and the
part of the world near Malaya. Oceania, and others."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">"May
we quote you on this, professor?" asked the </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Press</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Why – yes. But tell me
now, where did you get that feather?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell explained. And Professor
Meredith gasped. "I'll revise my statements," he said with
a smile. "This feather is not known to exist in the scientific
world. If the story is true, that this feather emerged from the scalp
of a man, it is a scientific curiosity that would startle the world –
and make a mint for the owner in any freak show."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">The
reporter from the </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Press</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">
said: "Professor, you state that this feather is not known to
the scientific world. Is there any chance that this – creature –
is utterly alien?"</span></span></b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Since the disclosure of the
affair at Hiroshima and Nagasaki," smiled the professor, "a
lot of people have been thinking in terms of attaining the stars –
interplanetary travel. As a member of a certain society known as the
Forteans, one of our big questions has been this: If interplanetary
travel is possible, why hasn't someone visited us? Gentlemen, I'd not
like to hear myself quoted as giving the idea too much credulence,
but it is something to ponder."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">That
did it. There was another general rush for the car. There was a wild
ride following, in which the man from the </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Press</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">
displayed that he had two things – a careful disregard for traffic
laws, plus illegal ownership of a siren. But they delivered Professor
Meredith to his home, the policemen to their station, and then the
party broke up heading for their respective telephones.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Three hours later Lieutenant
McDowell was reading a headline stating: "Hub of world to be Hub
of Universe?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell groaned. "Everything
happens to Boston, and everything in Boston happens on Boylston
Street. And everything that happens on Boylston Street happens to
me."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Doc smiled sourly. "Now
what?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"We've canvassed the medical
profession from Brookline to Everett, including the boys on Scollay
Square and a bouquet of fellows who aren't too squeamish about their
income. Not a sign. Furthermore, that feather specimen was
telephotoed to the more-complete libraries at New York, Chicago,
Washington, and Berkeley. The Audubon Society has been consulted, as
well as have most of the big ornithologists in the world. The sum
total is this:</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"That feather is strictly
unlike anything known. The skin is human – or as one dermatologist
put it, is as human as possible considering that it is growing
feathers instead of hair. The blood is the same story."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Doc nodded. "Now what?"
he repeated, though the sense of his words was different.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">"We
wait. Boy, there's a big scareline in all the papers. The </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Press
</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">is
hinting that the guy is from outer space, having been told that there
were intelligent humans here by that series of atom bomb explosions."</span></span></b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"If we were really
intelligent, we could get along with one another without atom bombs,"
grunted the Doc.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">"Well,
the </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Sphere</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">
claims that the character is a mutant resulting from atom bomb
radiation by-products, or something. He quotes the trouble that the
photographic manufacturers are having with radioactive specks in
their plants. The </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Tribune</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">
goes even further. He thinks the guy is an advance spy for an
invasion from outer space, because his gang of feather-bearing humans
are afraid to leave any world run loose with atom bombs.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">"The
ultraconservative </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Events</i></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">
even goes so far as to question the possibility of a feather-bearing
man growing to full manhood without having some record of it. Based
on that premise, they build an outer space yarn about it, too."</span></span></b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Doc grunted. "Used to be
invasions from Mars," he said.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"They're smarter now,"
explained McDowell. "Seems as how the bright boys claim that
life of humanoid varieties couldn't evolve on any planet of this
system but the Earth. Therefore if it is alien, it must come from one
of the stars. If it came from Mars it would be green worms, or
seven-legged octopuses. Venus, they claim, would probably sprout
dinosaurs or a gang of talking walleyed pike. Spinach, I calls it."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Doc smiled. "Notice that
none of 'em is claiming that they have the truth? It's all conjecture
so far."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Trouble is that I'm the
fall guy," complained McDowell. "It landed in my lap and
now I'm it – expected to unravel it myself or be the laughingstock
of the country, Canada, and the affiliations of the Associated
Press."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>The phone rang, and McDowell
groaned. "Some other guy wanting to climb on the wagon with us.
Been ringing all morning, from one screwbell or another with
theories, ideas, un-helpful suggestions as to how to trap the alien,
and so forth. My own opinion is to treat him nice, apologize for our
rather fool behavior, and see that he don't take a bad statement home
with him. If he tells 'em about us from what he's seen – Hello,"
he bawled into the phone.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I am Mrs. Donovan, on
Tremont Street. I wanted to report that the fellow with the feathers
on his head used to pass my window every morning on his way to work."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Fine," said McDowell,
unconvinced. "Will you answer me three questions?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Certainly."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"First, how do you know –
seems he never took his hat off?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Well, he was large and he
acted suspicious –"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Sure," growled
McDowell, hanging up the phone.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>He turned again to Doc. "It's
been like this. People who think they've seen him; people who are
sure they've had him in for lunch, almost. Yet they missed calling
about a character growing feathers instead of hair until there's a
big fuss – just as though a guy with a head covered with feathers
was quite the ordinary thing until he takes a swing at a guy in a
saloon."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Doc said: "You've canvassed
all the medics in Boston and environs?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"In another hour we'll have
all the medics in Massachusetts. Give us six hours and we'll have 'em
all over New England and part of Canada, New York, and the fish along
the Atlantic Ocean."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Have you tried the
non-medics?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Meaning?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Chiropodists, and the like.
They aren't listed in the Medical Register, but they will often take
care of a cut or scrape."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell laughed. "Just like
a stranger to go to a foot specialist to get a ripped scalp taken
care of."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Well, it is farfetched, but
might be."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I'm going to have the boys
chalk all sorts, and we'll follow up with the pharmacists. Does that
feather-headed bird know how much money he's costing the city, I
wonder?" McDowell gritted his teeth a bit as the phone rang
again. "I wonder what this one has to say," he snarled, and
then barked: "McDowell," into the instrument.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I have just seen the
feather-headed man on Huntington Avenue," replied a gruff voice.
"This is Dr. Muldoon, and I'm in a drugstore on the corner of
Huntington and Massachusetts."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"You've seen him? How did
you know?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"His hat blew off as he came
out of the subway entrance here."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Subway -?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>The doctor chuckled. "The
Boston Elevated, they call it. He headed toward Symphony Hall just a
moment ago – after collecting his hat."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"How many people were
there?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Maybe a dozen. They all
faded out of sight because they're a bit scared of that alien-star
rumor. He grabbed his hat rather quickly, though, and hurried out of
the way as I came here to telephone."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Stay there," snapped
McDowell, "and I'll be right over."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell and Doc jumped into the
car and went off with the siren screaming. McDowell cursed a traffic
jam at Copley Square and took the corner on one and one-half wheels
into Huntington. They ignored the red light halfway up Huntington,
and they skidded to a stop at Massachusetts Avenue to see a portly
gentleman standing on the corner. He wasted no time, but jumped in
the car and introduced himself as Dr. Muldoon.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"He went this way,"
pointed the doctor. The car turned roughly and started down the
street. They combed the rabbit-warren of streets there with no sign
of the feather-headed man at all.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell finally gave up. "There
are a million rooming houses in this neighborhood," he said
sorrowfully. "He could lose himself in any one of them."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I'm sorry," said the
doctor. "It's funny that this cut scalp hasn't caused him to
turn up somewhere."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"That's what we'd hoped
for," said McDowell. "But either the guy is treating
himself or he's got an illegal medic to do the job."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"From what you say – a
piece of scalp ripped loose – it is nothing to fool around with.
How big was the piece?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"About as big as a
fingernail," grinned McDowell.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Most dangerous. He might
die of infection."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I wonder if he knows that?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I wouldn't know," said
Dr. Muldoon.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Well, I've combed the
doctors. Now I'm going after the dermatologists, chiropodists,
osteopaths, and pharmacists. I might as well take a swing at the
chiropractors, too, and maybe hit that institution down on Huntington
near Massachusetts. They might know about him."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>McDowell looked up at the
second-story offices that bordered Massachusetts Avenue between
Huntington and Boylston and shook his head. "A million doctors,
dentists, and what-nots. And what is a follicologist?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"A hair specialist."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"A what?" exploded
McDowell. He jammed on the brakes with a hundred and seventy pounds
of man aided with some muscle-effort against the back of the seat.
The police car put its nose down and stopped. But quick. Traffic
piled up and horns blasted notice of impatience until McDowell jumped
out, signaled to a traffic cop to unsnarl the mess. Then McDowell
raced into the office.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>He paused at the door marked:
Clarence O'Toole, Follicologist. McDowell paused, listening, for two
voices were coming through the door. One was rumbling, low. The other
was in a familiar brogue.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"But this hurts,"
complained the rumble.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Naturally. Any scalping
hurts. But money will ease any hurt."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"But where's this money?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"You are to get ten percent
of my profit for a year. That plus a good head of hair. Isn't that
enough?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Ordinarily, yes. But I'm in
a jam, now. The police are looking for me with blood in their eyes."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Now, surrender yourself,"
said the brogue. "Go to this Lieutenant McDowell. Explain the
error. Tell them that you were afraid, that you'd been hiding because
of the ridicule attendant to the feathers on your scalp. Then go to
the press and demand satisfaction for their ridicule, libel; throw
the book at them. That will get us the publicity we want, and as soon
as the thing is explained, people will come in droves. But first you
can explain to McDowell –"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"And start now!"
exploded McDowell, bursting in angrily. He pointed the business-end
of his revolver at them and waved them back. "Sit down," he
barked. "And talk!"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"It was him," accused
the feather-headed one. "He wanted me to do this – to get into
an argument. To get publicity. He can grow hair – I've been as bald
as an onion."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Sure," drawled
McDowell. "The jury will decide." He turned to O'Toole.
"Are you a doctor?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I am not a licensed Doctor
of Medicine."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"We'll see if what you are
doing can be turned into a charge of practicing with no license."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I'm not practicing
medicine. I'm a follicologist."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Yeah? Then what's this
feather-business all about?"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Simple. Evolution has
caused every genus, every specimen of life to pass upward from the
sea. Hair is evolved from scales and feathers evolved also from
scales.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Now," continued
O'Toole, "baldness is attributed to lack of nourishment for the
hair on the scalp. It dies. The same thing often occurs in
agriculture –”</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"What has farming to do with
hair-growing?" demanded McDowell.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"I was coming to that. When
wheat will grow no longer in a field, they plant it with corn. It is
called 'Rotation of Crops.' Similarly, I cause a change in the
growth-output of the scalp. It starts off with a light covering of
scales, evolves into feathers in a few days, and the feathers evolve
to completion. This takes seven weeks. After this time, the feathers
die because of the differences in evolutionary ending of the host.
Then, with the scalp renewed by the so-called Rotation of Crops."</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>"Uh-huh. Well, we'll let the
jury decide!"</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Two months elapsed before O'Toole
came to trial. But meantime, the judge took a vacation and returned
with a luxuriant growth of hair on his head. The jury was not cited
for contempt of court even though most of them insisted on keeping
their hats on during proceedings. O'Toole had a good lawyer.</b></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>And Judge Murphy beamed down over
the bench and said: "O'Toole, you are guilty, but sentence is
suspended indefinitely. Just don't get into trouble again, that's
all. And gentlemen, Lieutenant McDowell, Dr. Muldoon, and Sergeant
O'Leary, I commend all of your work and will direct that you, Mr.
McCarthy, be recompensed. As for you," he said to the
ex-featherhead. "Mr. William B. Windsor, we have no use for
foreigners -"</b></span></p><p>
</p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><b>Mr. Windsor never got a chance to
state that he was no foreigner; his mother was a Clancy.</b></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Liberation Serif, serif;">You can check out George O. Smith's wikipedia page <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_O._Smith" target="_blank">here</a></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__512_406586733"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>This story is taken from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=science+fiction+short+stories&submit_search=Go%21" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>. The </i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>etext was produced from Outstanding Science Fiction October 1946. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-54435894863667531772022-12-08T16:03:00.000-08:002022-12-08T16:03:54.046-08:00The First Man on the Moon by Alfred Coppel<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: "Courier New", serif; font-size: 21.3333px;">The First Man on the Moon</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by Alfred Coppel</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The
ship lay at a crazy angle on the stark whiteness of the pumice plain.
The rocket nozzles were a fused lump of slag; the fire-darkened hull
crumpled and warped by the impact of landing. And there was silence …
complete and utter silence.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There
could be no return. Thurmon realized this. At first the thought had
brought panic, but, as the scope of his achievement dawned on him,
the fear retreated. Bruised, giddy, half-crazed … the certainty of
death held no terrors. Not yet. And it was worth it! Fame …
</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>immortality</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">!
Glory … in return for the last few years of a blighted, embittered,
over-shadowed life. Yes, it was </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>well</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
worth it. And, except for the crash-landing and the certainty of no
return, it had all come to pass just as he had planned it for so
long.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>On
his knees he caressed the gritty soil. He lifted his arms toward the
Day Star flaming in the day-night of space and knew completion. Tears
streaked his stubbled face, and strange noises came from his slack
mouth. The ecstasy of success was almost unbearable. For this, he had
labored a lifetime. For this, he had murdered a friend. …</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Across
the abyss, the whole world waited for word. The transmitter in the
rocket had survived the crash. The word would come, thought Thurmon …
when he was ready to send it. And sending it, he would place the
official seal of immortality on his brow. The book would close. But
wonderfully, satisfyingly. There would be no other to steal his
rightful glory. Only Wayne could have done that … and Wayne was
dead. He laughed weirdly within his helmet. So simply done!</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>The
Sea of Serenity stretched out before him in weird magnificence. In
the far distance a mountain range rose precipitously from the
wilderness of pumice to hump its spiny backbone at the brilliant
stars. A limbo of black shadows and stark white talus slopes.
Moonscape! Thurmon stumbled to his feet and fought the wave of nausea
that surged over him as his equilibrium teetered from the low
gravity. Then in an instant his discomfort was forgotten. Standing on
the brink of the cosmos, his ego drank of grandeur. All the splendor
of Creation lay before him like a jeweled carpet. All his! All for
John Thurmon, genius … explorer … murderer! For John Thurmon …
first man on the Moon!</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>With
an effort he dragged his eyes from the sky. Slowly, his reason was
returning. There was work to do. Wayne must be hidden. The next to
come must never know. And it should be done quickly. Time would fly
and in the last hours the fear would return. He knew that. Right now
his triumph sustained him.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>There
was the broadcast to look forward to. A billion people waited for his
words. It was a sop to his ego, but it could not make him forget that
this was costing him his life. On occasion, Thurmon could be
realistic, and he knew that, when there was nothing left to do but
sit and wait for the end, he would be afraid. Terribly, hideously
afraid and alone. It was the only flaw in his plan for immortality.
Yet, his life had been a barren thing, devoid of love or any real
success. It was little enough to trade. And this was his only chance
for lasting fame. He could not let it go.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The
plan was working … almost of its own inertia. He was alone. He was
on the Moon, where no man had ever been before him. Not even Wayne.
Wayne, who designed the rocket and guided it. Wayne, who had stolen
every chance Thurmon had ever had for recognition! Well, Wayne was
dead now. He had never put a living foot on the soil of the Moon.
Only Thurmon had done that. And it was his passport to eternal glory!
No one, </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>no
one</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
could take that away from him! Weighed in the loaded balance of his
mind, it more than compensated for dying alone and on an alien world.
In fact, even the dying would add to the legends, and Thurmon would
live forever. The first man on the Moon!</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>He
ran his tongue over dry lips and stooped to pick up the thing at his
feet. Wayne's corpse was still bloated from internal pressures, and
the naked flesh was drying fast to a parchment-like consistency.
Moisture was still seeping in awful little globules from the
shattered skull where Thurmon's unseen blow had landed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Thurmon
found himself shuddering. The murder had been the hardest part …
but now it was done … and all that remained was to give his dead
companion a secret resting-place somewhere in the vast expanse of
pumice that lay out there under the blistering sun. …</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Thurmon's
unsteady mind swerved from high elation to sadness. Poor Wayne! He
felt he could afford to be generous now. So many years of work so
soon to be forgotten. Just one quick blow, and poor, poor Wayne
slipped into the limbo of the Earth's forgotten. …</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Under
the light gravity, he carried the naked, grisly bundle easily. And,
as he walked out into the Mare Tranquilitatis, his spirits rose
again. How wonderful it was to be certain that no one could steal his
triumph! Not even Wayne. Particularly not Wayne. He looked down at
the thing in his arms and chuckled. The sound was uncanny within the
pyrex bubble of his helmet.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>After
what seemed a long time, Thurmon stopped and set down his burden.
With his pack-spade he set to work digging a trench in the pumice. As
he dug, he found himself crooning happily to the corpse. His voice
was high-pitched and hysterical, but of course he did not notice it.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"There,
there ... Wayne, old friend ... see? I am making a grave for you. The
very first grave, Wayne ... and you shall have it, old friend! Yours
the grave and mine the glory!" He laughed hilariously at the
thought. "I'll say you didn't make it alive. You didn't, did
you? But </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>I</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
made it, Wayne. </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Me!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
Alone ... all alone! With no help from you, do you hear?"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Thurmon
chattered on, the sound of his crazed voice dying within the confines
of his helmet, while all around him the eternal silence of the Sea of
Serenity continued unbroken. The stars shown steadily in the airless
sky, and the sun flamed in impotent splendor, furiously silent.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>At
last the pit was done, and Thurmon lowered the nude corpse into the
shadows. "Goodbye, Wayne. You see, you shouldn't have come here
with me. You shouldn't have tried to steal my success. That was a
wrong thing. But you're sorry now, aren't you, old friend? Don't feel
too badly, Wayne. I'll join you soon. Goodbye, Wayne. Goodbye.…"
Laboriously, he shoveled pumice into the pit and tamped it down with
his leaded boots. Then he smoothed the surface of the dig until it
was as smooth as the rest of the surrounding plain. Satisfied, he
turned his back on the grave and started for the rocket.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>He
sang on the way back, so happy was he to have done with his ghastly
companion. Recklessly prodigal of his oxygen supply, he ran toward
the open valve of the ship. Breath coming hard, he stumbled into the
rocket and across the buckled deck-plates to the radarphone. The tiny
atomic batteries hummed as he removed the cadmium dampers. Power
flickered the needles of the main set. Thurmon adjusted the selector
to "relay" and tuned in his suit radio. Then he returned to
sit in the open valve and call the monitoring station.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>He
smiled with satisfaction as the response cut through the blanket of
hissing solar static.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>"Hello!
Hello, ES-1! This is White Sands! My Lord, we'd given you up for
lost! Where are you?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Thurmon
took a steadier grip on his dancing mind and replied:</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Listen
carefully. Carefully, you understand? This is John Thurmon. I am on
the westernmost edge of the Sea of Serenity on the Moon. Wayne is
dead ... he didn't make it. Died during acceleration and I had to
dispose of his body in space. Did you get that? I am alone here. The
ship crashed on landing. I can't get back ... but it's worth it! I
haven't much time left ... but I want everyone to know that I made
it. It will be easier now for others ... after I've pointed the way.
I'm the </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>first</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
and it's worth it! Did you get that?"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>There
was a long silence. Finally, the radarman spoke respectfully. "Yes,
Thurmon, we got that. Your transmission is being shunted onto the
commercial bands. Can you tell us what you see up there? And ... and
Thurmon, we all want you to know that our prayers are with you."
Tears were flowing on Earth now, Thurmon knew. Tears for a martyr to
science doomed to death alone on an alien world. He smiled thinly.
Even this tiny taste of deference and respect was heady wine to his
frustrated psyche.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Thurmon
stepped through the valve and lowered himself to the plain. His heart
was pounding triumphantly. Carefully, painstakingly, he began to
describe his surroundings, interspersing his words with scientific
data. He played the hero well. There was no hysteria recognizable in
his voice ... and, if it trembled slightly, there was reason enough
for that.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>He
rounded the bulge of the rocket's nose and looked for the first time
at the western edge of the Mare. In the near distance an
irregularly-shaped outcropping of rock caught his eye. Transmitting
as he went, he made his way toward it.... He drew nearer. And as he
did, fear began to stir within him. His steps faltered, but some
awful power drew him on. His voice became a shrill rasp in his ears,
and on Earth a billion people gasped with horror....</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Wayne!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Thurmon
shouted the name in fear and threw his arm over his face. But the
thing remained. It was </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>real</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">!</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Wayne
... no!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
IT CAN'T BE! NO...."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>But
the figure did not move. The vast colossus loomed stark white and
naked in the brilliant sunlight. Legs apart, arms folded on its
breast, it stared with brooding eyes at the vast emptiness of the
lunar plain.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Thurmon
howled with terror and fury.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Damn
you! </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Damn
you!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
Why don't you answer me? I killed you once … I'll kill you again!
I'm the first one here! Do you hear me? I'll kill you again!"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>He
lowered his head and charged. The last thing he remembered was the
soundless tinkle of his shattering helmet, and the terrible pain as
his skull cracked under the suddenly shifting pressures....</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i><b>"...
And strangely enough, the story of the race's first conquest of space
is the story of one man, Sargon, the Lemurian Immortal, who led his
people to the Moon in the misty past of Earth's youth. The Lemurians
are gone now, but on the westernmost edge of the Sea of Serenity
there stands a statue of Sargon. It stands in magnificent isolation,
a monument to the first man on the Moon."</b></i></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Liberation Serif, serif;">You can check out Alfred Coppel's wikipedia page <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred_Coppel" target="_blank">here</a></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__512_406586733"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>This story is taken from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=science+fiction+short+stories&submit_search=Go%21" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>. The </i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1950. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-29232011384128558042022-12-03T18:58:00.000-08:002022-12-03T18:58:09.213-08:00Art - Jae Cheol Park<p style="text-align: center;"> Art - <a href="https://www.this-is-cool.co.uk/the-exquisite-futuristic-art-of-jae-cheol-park-paperblue/" target="_blank">Jae Cheol Park</a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qtvIbSVrS7OEiR3k1JE4DtSucHdL1ToVEd8Nbvb3X6PEZrksZGW_w7wn47dovHCZ2xByMDGE57_2iESF-m-0vSLaVART7CltwbJO7ceNiSdK8dYr24ZrtOAXg5Ny6tgyHlTbd0OKsHfknXmvNr7ei0rbqdiIVG9on5mQPobWIUwQDUj3hFBIE6kb/s1800/paperblue-net-ap-b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="939" data-original-width="1800" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qtvIbSVrS7OEiR3k1JE4DtSucHdL1ToVEd8Nbvb3X6PEZrksZGW_w7wn47dovHCZ2xByMDGE57_2iESF-m-0vSLaVART7CltwbJO7ceNiSdK8dYr24ZrtOAXg5Ny6tgyHlTbd0OKsHfknXmvNr7ei0rbqdiIVG9on5mQPobWIUwQDUj3hFBIE6kb/w400-h209/paperblue-net-ap-b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">City - ap - b</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirg74LWT40OtOgqoyunNv6PBCokGgfKwgu_oQBb3q4hy-fTJyf97w_pi3bVUa4ptHIgLSyyfSN2pxUKBA8H8Y_uasjHK6maoqmRqTwxppqV-YnYo44fMtkm21USuuePJXKLaiSomG9h9FaFVb_NWU1I5--67nZwWnSr9ho1KQ_BnUekzYQehEBZDsj/s1700/paperblue-net-city-f-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1700" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirg74LWT40OtOgqoyunNv6PBCokGgfKwgu_oQBb3q4hy-fTJyf97w_pi3bVUa4ptHIgLSyyfSN2pxUKBA8H8Y_uasjHK6maoqmRqTwxppqV-YnYo44fMtkm21USuuePJXKLaiSomG9h9FaFVb_NWU1I5--67nZwWnSr9ho1KQ_BnUekzYQehEBZDsj/w400-h214/paperblue-net-city-f-17.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">City - f-17</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKi9xPXjCVpHEp1Gh94RcbtVd9Ojxl3DyZQZGGHw6i6pXcLlFw-wLsjEtcFxAczPo0PzSD81sfcwlYL_grMHyTX5jGtdL6_OW4AOuyxJdoUHcQ8o2SxSGlh0I2ycPAlm_IycgG2gMFTiP4EOKVQIHO6HoVkA0xhg4EHK-pQ4tSgUXEkNFwIwtr-5Dg/s1103/paperblue-net-drift-city-t.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1103" data-original-width="1100" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKi9xPXjCVpHEp1Gh94RcbtVd9Ojxl3DyZQZGGHw6i6pXcLlFw-wLsjEtcFxAczPo0PzSD81sfcwlYL_grMHyTX5jGtdL6_OW4AOuyxJdoUHcQ8o2SxSGlh0I2ycPAlm_IycgG2gMFTiP4EOKVQIHO6HoVkA0xhg4EHK-pQ4tSgUXEkNFwIwtr-5Dg/w399-h400/paperblue-net-drift-city-t.jpg" width="399" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Drift City</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-U_cUsH-kdkgEfi5ZoJ-k24pNgCOzmTPDcHhI_AC3GXtaaDVQmCRFVfKqVzr3e35bacU5wPYwzAUb_48jGd4YSdKHyU9a8ssIF9zPSCmtGuqbgAm9SV06s832W3zy8nz1ew0RSIKhxCGt2s6Zgu0ZlURtwAP1rQVxJSl1rFjzs_7IHhQqH7C2PJCB/s1900/paperblue-net-transport-hangar-06a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1029" data-original-width="1900" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-U_cUsH-kdkgEfi5ZoJ-k24pNgCOzmTPDcHhI_AC3GXtaaDVQmCRFVfKqVzr3e35bacU5wPYwzAUb_48jGd4YSdKHyU9a8ssIF9zPSCmtGuqbgAm9SV06s832W3zy8nz1ew0RSIKhxCGt2s6Zgu0ZlURtwAP1rQVxJSl1rFjzs_7IHhQqH7C2PJCB/w400-h216/paperblue-net-transport-hangar-06a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Transport Hangar</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWg2GPQOfb1cJTNMLubPHomNC4GxWrjUdd9wd8BW1uGJ2jYNpx_JQA0fV2m2MxsV8GlOs83vVHDFg38oqZdE995t4t-gq2QakRSB4Q39pFXN7_3kr2Y5LAcf8yFqB60FDZqlO2yY4NLC27bCCmFyKIW_s-WZRWqBOpDXgYliFp2JiUIFCNHmpoAK4O/s1500/-sf-city-b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="863" data-original-width="1500" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWg2GPQOfb1cJTNMLubPHomNC4GxWrjUdd9wd8BW1uGJ2jYNpx_JQA0fV2m2MxsV8GlOs83vVHDFg38oqZdE995t4t-gq2QakRSB4Q39pFXN7_3kr2Y5LAcf8yFqB60FDZqlO2yY4NLC27bCCmFyKIW_s-WZRWqBOpDXgYliFp2JiUIFCNHmpoAK4O/w400-h230/-sf-city-b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">s-f city b</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrrPcOn-pERqdQBD1NMBv6_nh_QwbT866wKivBMwOGhs4wy_gV1rCaBKr0C_CZGs3GdxXsws3aZi8mVUz0CvhjfEDlNqgzZ_6UKO6o96DRB-s_PuVgf-cCB2N5VOcD48YIn_U-RZQPMv0Ep4g5GDiTyBtqwNe8AU4wQWQGtoIuURI2_NSa_PYLu24I/s1250/-ship-interior-aaa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="1250" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrrPcOn-pERqdQBD1NMBv6_nh_QwbT866wKivBMwOGhs4wy_gV1rCaBKr0C_CZGs3GdxXsws3aZi8mVUz0CvhjfEDlNqgzZ_6UKO6o96DRB-s_PuVgf-cCB2N5VOcD48YIn_U-RZQPMv0Ep4g5GDiTyBtqwNe8AU4wQWQGtoIuURI2_NSa_PYLu24I/w400-h221/-ship-interior-aaa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">ship interior</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQKZPLQcqAcqqtJ4YBNuWXwTX8zlJF_UDkg9mJ6hcD6fQzTdarm_DdQDvZqsW-pVSlQ2_xUzw0zvj2cpGoDGcv4uySAnuqoUFwaUQv0ACK-0ZqnmVNzHiPYs1U3lcQK7jtvQPfCtJEFhuWA0DQB72H8M1IiqEMS3yP2AW_g72kj-_FLwDDlbDBmjk/s1910/spaceship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1910" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQKZPLQcqAcqqtJ4YBNuWXwTX8zlJF_UDkg9mJ6hcD6fQzTdarm_DdQDvZqsW-pVSlQ2_xUzw0zvj2cpGoDGcv4uySAnuqoUFwaUQv0ACK-0ZqnmVNzHiPYs1U3lcQK7jtvQPfCtJEFhuWA0DQB72H8M1IiqEMS3yP2AW_g72kj-_FLwDDlbDBmjk/w400-h191/spaceship.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Spaceship</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-16013347977899225922022-11-17T16:06:00.000-08:002022-11-17T16:06:49.965-08:00The Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: "Courier New", serif; font-size: 21.3333px;">The Big Trip Up Yonder</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by Kurt Vonnegut</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Gramps
Ford, his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his
cane, was staring irascibly at the five-foot television screen that
dominated the room. On the screen, a news commentator was summarizing
the day's happenings. Every thirty seconds or so, Gramps would jab
the floor with his cane-tip and shout, "Hell, we did that a
hundred years ago!"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Emerald
and Lou, coming in from the balcony, where they had been seeking that
2185 A.D. rarity – privacy – were obliged to take seats in the
back row, behind Lou's father and mother, brother and sister-in-law,
son and daughter-in-law, grandson and wife, granddaughter and
husband, great-grandson and wife, nephew and wife, grandnephew and
wife, great-grandniece and husband, great-grandnephew and wife –
and, of course, Gramps, who was in front of everybody. All save
Gramps, who was somewhat withered and bent, seemed, by
pre-anti-gerasone standards, to be about the same age – somewhere
in their late twenties or early thirties. Gramps looked older because
he had already reached 70 when anti-gerasone was invented. He had not
aged in the 102 years since.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Meanwhile,"
the commentator was saying, "Council Bluffs, Iowa, was still
threatened by stark tragedy. But 200 weary rescue workers have
refused to give up hope, and continue to dig in an effort to save
Elbert Haggedorn, 183, who has been wedged for two days in a ..."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
wish he'd get something more cheerful," Emerald whispered to
Lou.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Silence!"
cried Gramps. "Next one shoots off his big bazoo while the TV's
on is gonna find hisself cut off without a dollar –" his voice
suddenly softened and sweetened – "when they wave that
checkered flag at the Indianapolis Speedway, and old Gramps gets
ready for the Big Trip Up Yonder."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
sniffed sentimentally, while his heirs concentrated desperately on
not making the slightest sound. For them, the poignancy of the
prospective Big Trip had been dulled somewhat, through having been
mentioned by Gramps about once a day for fifty years.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Dr.
Brainard Keyes Bullard," continued the commentator, "President
of Wyandotte College, said in an address tonight that most of the
world's ills can be traced to the fact that Man's knowledge of
himself has not kept pace with his knowledge of the physical world."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Hell!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"
snorted Gramps. "We said </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>that</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
a hundred years ago!"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"In
Chicago tonight," the commentator went on, "a special
celebration is taking place in the Chicago Lying-in Hospital. The
guest of honor is Lowell W. Hitz, age zero. Hitz, born this morning,
is the twenty-five-millionth child to be born in the hospital."
The commentator faded, and was replaced on the screen by young Hitz,
who squalled furiously.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Hell!"
whispered Lou to Emerald. "We said that a hundred years ago."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
heard that!" shouted Gramps. He snapped off the television set
and his petrified descendants stared silently at the screen. "You,
there, boy –"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
didn't mean anything by it, sir," said Lou, aged 103.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Get
me my will. You know where it is. You kids </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>all</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
know where it is. Fetch, boy!" Gramps snapped his gnarled
fingers sharply.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Lou
nodded dully and found himself going down the hall, picking his way
over bedding to Gramps' room, the only private room in the Ford
apartment. The other rooms were the bathroom, the living room and the
wide windowless hallway, which was originally intended to serve as a
dining area, and which had a kitchenette in one end. Six mattresses
and four sleeping bags were dispersed in the hallway and living room,
and the daybed, in the living room, accommodated the eleventh couple,
the favorites of the moment.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>On
Gramps' bureau was his will, smeared, dog-eared, perforated and
blotched with hundreds of additions, deletions, accusations,
conditions, warnings, advice and homely philosophy. The document was,
Lou reflected, a fifty-year diary, all jammed onto two sheets – a
garbled, illegible log of day after day of strife. This day, Lou
would be disinherited for the eleventh time, and it would take him
perhaps six months of impeccable behavior to regain the promise of a
share in the estate. To say nothing of the daybed in the living room
for Em and himself.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Boy!"
called Gramps.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Coming,
sir." Lou hurried back into the living room and handed Gramps
the will.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Pen!"
said Gramps.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
was instantly offered eleven pens, one from each couple.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Not
</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>that</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
leaky thing," he said, brushing Lou's pen aside. "Ah,
</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>there's</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
a nice one. Good boy, Willy." He accepted Willy's pen. That was
the tip they had all been waiting for. Willy, then – Lou's father –
was the new favorite.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Willy,
who looked almost as young as Lou, though he was 142, did a poor job
of concealing his pleasure. He glanced shyly at the daybed, which
would become his, and from which Lou and Emerald would have to move
back into the hall, back to the worst spot of all by the bathroom
door.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Gramps
missed none of the high drama he had authored and he gave his own
familiar role everything he had. Frowning and running his finger
along each line, as though he were seeing the will for the first
time, he read aloud in a deep portentous monotone, like a bass note
on a cathedral organ.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I,
Harold D. Ford, residing in Building 257 of Alden Village, New York
City, Connecticut, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my
last Will and Testament, revoking any and all former wills and
codicils by me at any time heretofore made." He blew his nose
importantly and went on, not missing a word, and repeating many for
emphasis – repeating in particular his ever-more-elaborate
specifications for a funeral.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>At
the end of these specifications, Gramps was so choked with emotion
that Lou thought he might have forgotten why he'd brought out the
will in the first place. But Gramps heroically brought his powerful
emotions under control and, after erasing for a full minute, began to
write and speak at the same time. Lou could have spoken his lines for
him, he had heard them so often.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
have had many heartbreaks ere leaving this vale of tears for a better
land," Gramps said and wrote. "But the deepest hurt of all
has been dealt me by –" He looked around the group, trying to
remember who the malefactor was.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Everyone
looked helpfully at Lou, who held up his hand resignedly.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Gramps
nodded, remembering, and completed the sentence –"my
great-grandson, Louis J. Ford."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Grandson,
sir," said Lou.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Don't
quibble. You're in deep enough now, young man," said Gramps, but
he made the change. And, from there, he went without a misstep
through the phrasing of the disinheritance, causes for which were
disrespectfulness and quibbling.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>In
the paragraph following, the paragraph that had belonged to everyone
in the room at one time or another, Lou's name was scratched out and
Willy's substituted as heir to the apartment and, the biggest plum of
all, the double bed in the private bedroom.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"So!"
said Gramps, beaming. He erased the date at the foot of the will and
substituted a new one, including the time of day. "Well – time
to watch the McGarvey Family." The McGarvey Family was a
television serial that Gramps had been following since he was 60, or
for a total of 112 years. "I can't wait to see what's going to
happen next," he said.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Lou
detached himself from the group and lay down on his bed of pain by
the bathroom door. Wishing Em would join him, he wondered where she
was.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
dozed for a few moments, until he was disturbed by someone stepping
over him to get into the bathroom. A moment later, he heard a faint
gurgling sound, as though something were being poured down the
washbasin drain. Suddenly, it entered his mind that Em had cracked
up, that she was in there doing something drastic about Gramps.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Em?"
he whispered through the panel. There was no reply, and Lou pressed
against the door. The worn lock, whose bolt barely engaged its
socket, held for a second, then let the door swing inward.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Morty!"
gasped Lou.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Lou's
great-grandnephew, Mortimer, who had just married and brought his
wife home to the Ford menage, looked at Lou with consternation and
surprise. Morty kicked the door shut, but not before Lou had glimpsed
what was in his hand – Gramps' enormous economy-size bottle of
anti-gerasone, which had apparently been half-emptied, and which
Morty was refilling with tap water.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>A
moment later, Morty came out, glared defiantly at Lou and brushed
past him wordlessly to rejoin his pretty bride.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Shocked,
Lou didn't know what to do. He couldn't let Gramps take the
mousetrapped anti-gerasone – but, if he warned Gramps about it,
Gramps would certainly make life in the apartment, which was merely
insufferable now, harrowing.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Lou
glanced into the living room and saw that the Fords, Emerald among
them, were momentarily at rest, relishing the botches that the
McGarveys had made of </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>their</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
lives. Stealthily, he went into the bathroom, locked the door as well
as he could and began to pour the contents of Gramps' bottle down the
drain. He was going to refill it with full-strength anti-gerasone
from the 22 smaller bottles on the shelf.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
bottle contained a half-gallon, and its neck was small, so it seemed
to Lou that the emptying would take forever. And the almost
imperceptible smell of anti-gerasone, like Worcestershire sauce, now
seemed to Lou, in his nervousness, to be pouring out into the rest of
the apartment, through the keyhole and under the door.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
bottle gurgled monotonously. Suddenly, up came the sound of music
from the living room and there were murmurs and the scraping of
chair-legs on the floor. "Thus ends," said the television
announcer, "the 29,121st chapter in the life of your neighbors
and mine, the McGarveys." Footsteps were coming down the hall.
There was a knock on the bathroom door.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Just
a sec," Lou cheerily called out. Desperately, he shook the big
bottle, trying to speed up the flow. His palms slipped on the wet
glass, and the heavy bottle smashed on the tile floor.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
door was pushed open, and Gramps, dumbfounded, stared at the
incriminating mess.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Lou
felt a hideous prickling sensation on his scalp and the back of his
neck. He grinned engagingly through his nausea and, for want of
anything remotely resembling a thought, waited for Gramps to speak.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,
boy," said Gramps at last, "looks like you've got a little
tidying up to do."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>And
that was all he said. He turned around, elbowed his way through the
crowd and locked himself in his bedroom.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
Fords contemplated Lou in incredulous silence a moment longer, and
then hurried back to the living room, as though some of his horrible
guilt would taint them, too, if they looked too long. Morty stayed
behind long enough to give Lou a quizzical, annoyed glance. Then he
also went into the living room, leaving only Emerald standing in the
doorway.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Tears
streamed over her cheeks. "Oh, you poor lamb – </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>please</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
don't look so awful! It was my fault. I put you up to this with my
nagging about Gramps."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No,"
said Lou, finding his voice, "really you didn't. Honest, Em, I
was just –"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"You
don't have to explain anything to me, hon. I'm on your side, no
matter what." She kissed him on one cheek and whispered in his
ear, "It wouldn't have been murder, hon. It wouldn't have killed
him. It wasn't such a terrible thing to do. It just would have fixed
him up so he'd be able to go any time God decided He wanted him."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What's
going to happen next, Em?" said Lou hollowly. "What's he
going to do?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Lou
and Emerald stayed fearfully awake almost all night, waiting to see
what Gramps was going to do. But not a sound came from the sacred
bedroom. Two hours before dawn, they finally dropped off to sleep.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>At
six o'clock, they arose again, for it was time for their generation
to eat breakfast in the kitchenette. No one spoke to them. They had
twenty minutes in which to eat, but their reflexes were so dulled by
the bad night that they had hardly swallowed two mouthfuls of
egg-type processed seaweed before it was time to surrender their
places to their son's generation.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Then,
as was the custom for whoever had been most recently disinherited,
they began preparing Gramps' breakfast, which would presently be
served to him in bed, on a tray. They tried to be cheerful about it.
The toughest part of the job was having to handle the honest-to-God
eggs and bacon and oleomargarine, on which Gramps spent so much of
the income from his fortune.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,"
said Emerald, "I'm not going to get all panicky until I'm sure
there's something to be panicky about."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Maybe
he doesn't know what it was I busted," Lou said hopefully.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Probably
thinks it was your watch crystal," offered Eddie, their son, who
was toying apathetically with his buckwheat-type processed sawdust
cakes.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Don't
get sarcastic with your father," said Em, "and don't talk
with your mouth full, either."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I'd
like to see anybody take a mouthful of this stuff and </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>not</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
say something," complained Eddie, who was 73. He glanced at the
clock. "It's time to take Gramps his breakfast, you know."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yeah,
it is, isn't it?" said Lou weakly. He shrugged. "Let's have
the tray, Em."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"We'll
both go."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Walking
slowly, smiling bravely, they found a large semi-circle of long-faced
Fords standing around the bedroom door.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Em
knocked. "Gramps," she called brightly, "</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>break</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-fast
is </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>rea</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-dy."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>There
was no reply and she knocked again, harder.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
door swung open before her fist. In the middle of the room, the soft,
deep, wide, canopied bed, the symbol of the sweet by-and-by to every
Ford, was empty.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>A
sense of death, as unfamiliar to the Fords as Zoroastrianism or the
causes of the Sepoy Mutiny, stilled every voice, slowed every heart.
Awed, the heirs began to search gingerly, under the furniture and
behind the drapes, for all that was mortal of Gramps, father of the
clan.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>But
Gramps had left not his Earthly husk but a note, which Lou finally
found on the dresser, under a paperweight which was a treasured
souvenir from the World's Fair of 2000. Unsteadily, Lou read it
aloud:</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"'Somebody
who I have sheltered and protected and taught the best I know how all
these years last night turned on me like a mad dog and diluted my
anti-gerasone, or tried to. I am no longer a young man. I can no
longer bear the crushing burden of life as I once could. So, after
last night's bitter experience, I say good-by. The cares of this
world will soon drop away like a cloak of thorns and I shall know
peace. By the time you find this, I will be gone.'"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Gosh,"
said Willy brokenly, "he didn't even get to see how the
5000-mile Speedway Race was going to come out."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Or
the Solar Series," Eddie said, with large mournful eyes.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Or
whether Mrs. McGarvey got her eyesight back," added Morty.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"There's
more," said Lou, and he began reading aloud again: "'I,
Harold D. Ford, etc., do hereby make, publish and declare this to be
my last Will and Testament, revoking any and all former wills and
codicils by me at any time heretofore made.'"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No!"
cried Willy. "Not another one!"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"'I
do stipulate,'" read Lou, "'that all of my property, of
whatsoever kind and nature, not be divided, but do devise and
bequeath it to be held in common by my issue, without regard for
generation, equally, share and share alike.'"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Issue?"
said Emerald.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Lou
included the multitude in a sweep of his hand. "It means we all
own the whole damn shootin' match."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Each
eye turned instantly to the bed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Share
and share alike?" asked Morty.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Actually,"
said Willy, who was the oldest one present, "it's just like the
old system, where the oldest people head up things with their
headquarters in here and –"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
like </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>that</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">!"
exclaimed Em. "Lou owns as much of it as you do, and I say it
ought to be for the oldest one who's still working. You can snooze
around here all day, waiting for your pension check, while poor Lou
stumbles in here after work, all tuckered out, and –"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"How
about letting somebody who's never had </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>any</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
privacy get a little crack at it?" Eddie demanded hotly. "Hell,
you old people had plenty of privacy back when you were kids. I was
born and raised in the middle of that goddamn barracks in the hall!
How about –"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yeah?"
challenged Morty. "Sure, you've all had it pretty tough, and my
heart bleeds for you. But try honeymooning in the hall for a real
kick."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Silence!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"
shouted Willy imperiously. "The next person who opens his mouth
spends the next sixth months by the bathroom. Now clear out of my
room. I want to think."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>A
vase shattered against the wall, inches above his head.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>In
the next moment, a free-for-all was under way, with each couple
battling to eject every other couple from the room. Fighting
coalitions formed and dissolved with the lightning changes of the
tactical situation. Em and Lou were thrown into the hall, where they
organized others in the same situation, and stormed back into the
room.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>After
two hours of struggle, with nothing like a decision in sight, the
cops broke in, followed by television cameramen from mobile units.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>For
the next half-hour, patrol wagons and ambulances hauled away Fords,
and then the apartment was still and spacious.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>An
hour later, films of the last stages of the riot were being televised
to 500,000,000 delighted viewers on the Eastern Seaboard.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>In
the stillness of the three-room Ford apartment on the 76th floor of
Building 257, the television set had been left on. Once more the air
was filled with the cries and grunts and crashes of the fray, coming
harmlessly now from the loudspeaker.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
battle also appeared on the screen of the television set in the
police station, where the Fords and their captors watched with
professional interest.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Em
and Lou, in adjacent four-by-eight cells, were stretched out
peacefully on their cots.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Em,"
called Lou through the partition, "you got a washbasin all your
own, too?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Sure.
Washbasin, bed, light – the works. And we thought </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Gramps'</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
room was something. How long has this been going on?" She held
out her hand. "For the first time in forty years, hon, I haven't
got the shakes – look at me!"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Cross
your fingers," said Lou. "The lawyer's going to try to get
us a year."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Gee!"
Em said dreamily. "I wonder what kind of wires you'd have to
pull to get put away in solitary?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"All
right, pipe down," said the turnkey, "or I'll toss the
whole kit and caboodle of you right out. And first one who lets on to
anybody outside how good jail is ain't never getting back in!"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
prisoners instantly fell silent.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
living room of the apartment darkened for a moment as the riot scenes
faded on the television screen, and then the face of the announcer
appeared, like the Sun coming from behind a cloud. "And now,
friends," he said, "I have a special message from the
makers of anti-gerasone, a message for all you folks over 150. Are
you hampered socially by wrinkles, by stiffness of joints and
discoloration or loss of hair, all because these things came upon you
before anti-gerasone was developed? Well, if you are, you need no
longer suffer, need no longer feel different and out of things.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"After
years of research, medical science has now developed
</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Super</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-anti-gerasone!
In weeks – yes, weeks – you can look, feel and act as young as
your great-great-grandchildren! Wouldn't you pay $5,000 to be
indistinguishable from everybody else? Well, you don't have to. Safe,
tested </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Super</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-anti-gerasone
costs you only a few dollars a day.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Write
now for your free trial carton. Just put your name and address on a
dollar postcard, and mail it to '</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Super</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,'
Box 500,000, Schenectady, N. Y. Have you got that? I'll repeat it.
'</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Super</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,'
Box 500,000 ..."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Underlining
the announcer's words was the scratching of Gramps' pen, the one
Willy had given him the night before. He had come in, a few minutes
earlier, from the Idle Hour Tavern, which commanded a view of
Building 257 from across the square of asphalt known as the Alden
Village Green. He had called a cleaning woman to come straighten the
place up, then had hired the best lawyer in town to get his
descendants a conviction, a genius who had never gotten a client less
than a year and a day. Gramps had then moved the daybed before the
television screen, so that he could watch from a reclining position.
It was something he'd dreamed of doing for years.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Schen-</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>ec</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-ta-dy,"
murmured Gramps. "Got it!" His face had changed remarkably.
His facial muscles seemed to have relaxed, revealing kindness and
equanimity under what had been taut lines of bad temper. It was
almost as though his trial package of </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Super</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-anti-gerasone
had already arrived. When something amused him on television, he
smiled easily, rather than barely managing to lengthen the thin line
of his mouth a millimeter.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Life
was good. He could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Liberation Serif, serif;">You can check out Kurt Vonnegut's wikipedia page <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurt_Vonnegut" target="_blank">here</a></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__512_406586733"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>This story is taken from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=science+fiction+short+stories&submit_search=Go%21" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>. The </i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction January 1954. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-71967598135682530282022-11-10T06:04:00.000-08:002022-11-10T06:04:51.301-08:00Bookspot - Rememory by Fraiser Armitage<p style="text-align: center;"> Bookspot - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/zh_TW/Frasier-Armitage-ebook/dp/B09LX8KCFR/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1QPRR5G6ZAWT0&keywords=rememory+by+frasier+armitage&qid=1667791288&sprefix=rememory+by+fraiser+armitag%2Caps%2C549&sr=8-1&language=en_US" target="_blank">Rememory by Fraiser Armitage</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">In the future, memory is currency. Felix is broke, on the run, with nothing in his head but a combination of numbers.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Someone robbed him of his mind. Now it's time he took it back.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweD8EcR1kUzmn0WT7NUEpJCnSf-Gq11zNp8XVhomMt8PxF4dXXBe9eb3qXZzBvn8Z352fOiiet5BsB14AmXqVhaZAtXxYf7I_mthuM_42c0VTzHQmpppqOpAS_9yZ69m49I-bC-GS53ZTt-kwNLxN9UgS3qfd9WurwiIK6tUuKZ2yf-M8y5ympp6l/s500/rememory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="330" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweD8EcR1kUzmn0WT7NUEpJCnSf-Gq11zNp8XVhomMt8PxF4dXXBe9eb3qXZzBvn8Z352fOiiet5BsB14AmXqVhaZAtXxYf7I_mthuM_42c0VTzHQmpppqOpAS_9yZ69m49I-bC-GS53ZTt-kwNLxN9UgS3qfd9WurwiIK6tUuKZ2yf-M8y5ympp6l/w264-h400/rememory.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><br /><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">On the run from the law but without any memory of why. This bite-sized cyberpunk novella hits straight in with a pace that doesn't hold up until the end. A fantastic blend of twists and reveals that keeps you guessing all the way.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-18412574003994949362022-11-06T01:36:00.004-08:002022-11-24T07:08:13.441-08:00Art - Eric Gagnon<p style="text-align: center;">Art - <a href="https://www.artstation.com/gryphart" target="_blank">Eric Gagnon</a> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1AL7N-0Sre2Qfqs3o9A6D1nSE-ZdN3O9DV-SwQDE8sQupFepp4SIsDkBuButXyfbYh3VCs95yQF-xIic5NadhVXsZwPe6h5XH1usWFiGOj9CJHgzNhFczhB0SM7o_HF2WfzdrlrqIwMN43-DrN8OZ1UBASMtMOtiMtTTiDnm7O6w1yVofrA8GdeR/s1920/flying%20steam%20ship%20arrival.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1595" data-original-width="1920" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1AL7N-0Sre2Qfqs3o9A6D1nSE-ZdN3O9DV-SwQDE8sQupFepp4SIsDkBuButXyfbYh3VCs95yQF-xIic5NadhVXsZwPe6h5XH1usWFiGOj9CJHgzNhFczhB0SM7o_HF2WfzdrlrqIwMN43-DrN8OZ1UBASMtMOtiMtTTiDnm7O6w1yVofrA8GdeR/w400-h333/flying%20steam%20ship%20arrival.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Flying Steam-Ship Arrival</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMavFSrWlAD-wwpNQVJ6S5y2yPowPCb9a7zBd66kZUvIXAVRsobiHctsWgy7i4FQ16kL_qugRO0AN8QBdq4K6jsodHHXa4qzeVeykiBex4OgW9cfZU5Gx6xnu_43Nbqhjd6CYDnZFwEssqxVgTjhGm1xsNq6ey4QWicD6GKWbREeSLBmRsfrGFmef/s1920/eric-gagnon-bigboat-floating-over.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1920" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMavFSrWlAD-wwpNQVJ6S5y2yPowPCb9a7zBd66kZUvIXAVRsobiHctsWgy7i4FQ16kL_qugRO0AN8QBdq4K6jsodHHXa4qzeVeykiBex4OgW9cfZU5Gx6xnu_43Nbqhjd6CYDnZFwEssqxVgTjhGm1xsNq6ey4QWicD6GKWbREeSLBmRsfrGFmef/w400-h171/eric-gagnon-bigboat-floating-over.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Big Boat Floating Over</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSYeLsXvXQZ9U49pE879doAyAYz3DsPYkOX-pcU_1PsuzMetfhyFhoVDO7DwzGxoNebLVkcpwWIsE8W2EaylcynOsWqzNrOLR7ujWOy5RfNGcTQzWa9LzycG6V6v0lTaw-vyd80Vadys6e1mwbX4MpORyDkwQQvndyZ9vm1K8wZFhmTR-V0j7Tg5iK/s1920/corpa%20city%2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="1920" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSYeLsXvXQZ9U49pE879doAyAYz3DsPYkOX-pcU_1PsuzMetfhyFhoVDO7DwzGxoNebLVkcpwWIsE8W2EaylcynOsWqzNrOLR7ujWOy5RfNGcTQzWa9LzycG6V6v0lTaw-vyd80Vadys6e1mwbX4MpORyDkwQQvndyZ9vm1K8wZFhmTR-V0j7Tg5iK/w400-h155/corpa%20city%2003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Corpa City 03</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlHUzTc2wzTbKEJnRsVbWG2v_2U2xXUPpBeORI_lccJvKWKhoB_m3XwImYt-GDS55g-n4YajC-Ege0dizpWpHlON5aOfnaCaA5D1FskH_KsfBtgi8-815Y2fH1JARh93eU7Eoe9uDttaX8aHazr2_yUmTd0rQoXCBYh1P6IXJ4cchUSyN8xYSggp0/s960/Old%20Science%20Fiction%20Sketches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="960" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlHUzTc2wzTbKEJnRsVbWG2v_2U2xXUPpBeORI_lccJvKWKhoB_m3XwImYt-GDS55g-n4YajC-Ege0dizpWpHlON5aOfnaCaA5D1FskH_KsfBtgi8-815Y2fH1JARh93eU7Eoe9uDttaX8aHazr2_yUmTd0rQoXCBYh1P6IXJ4cchUSyN8xYSggp0/w400-h350/Old%20Science%20Fiction%20Sketches.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">[from] Old Science Fiction Sketches</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7dvkiU5SNH_H1VkjSuhlcts__RHZT0rm04vMr7Ar-Mui-trjlAyNDs2DXxqu_o_R1FiA-uiz5zglO16D8qXcNhIblV7UHG-3Dq2_N_n_C7hA35DURDvDJON8hiAq4-DmlcjMW3RSsbUvpQ6moiICgAd_5wmfTwNaZhYjzLaHalmTeMtZVc1WSLBpa/s1920/spaceship%20hanger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1920" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7dvkiU5SNH_H1VkjSuhlcts__RHZT0rm04vMr7Ar-Mui-trjlAyNDs2DXxqu_o_R1FiA-uiz5zglO16D8qXcNhIblV7UHG-3Dq2_N_n_C7hA35DURDvDJON8hiAq4-DmlcjMW3RSsbUvpQ6moiICgAd_5wmfTwNaZhYjzLaHalmTeMtZVc1WSLBpa/w400-h141/spaceship%20hanger.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Spaceship Hanger</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLoC_gHPtE1ZlywRlJNXVIB-89iVdLZpgcIENXsKfVBEVtA3nv1NAaaPAjVkT5l4MMkfga1omsVnK7ad_5hUsR2_RU5RpAYDwnqoBELaMSwu2K2uIdkVBnS2GOIMqDOR2aBHN2hOoLzpXu3rBhf9_kObIrkd-1c9_Lah92wUMtFv811i7CY4jPbZJ/s1015/the%20cold%20halt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="1015" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLoC_gHPtE1ZlywRlJNXVIB-89iVdLZpgcIENXsKfVBEVtA3nv1NAaaPAjVkT5l4MMkfga1omsVnK7ad_5hUsR2_RU5RpAYDwnqoBELaMSwu2K2uIdkVBnS2GOIMqDOR2aBHN2hOoLzpXu3rBhf9_kObIrkd-1c9_Lah92wUMtFv811i7CY4jPbZJ/w400-h255/the%20cold%20halt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The Cold Halt</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgIn4NuDkyL_pQUoFRDaoMviX5E6MHwi4zNiClstzvdCRp-x8XXxTfJ8kZT58Y64S4BAgP1hylty8WG-XmBt2zk0Z12cz2w9q-qs_BsKzNa7IDC8dApc0NZbxYlqIQICbAjgMtZT1vNP5d5qNbDIeCmYX8MUaGYULQQTWWNZWtlHj7dFj60lnLvpP/s1875/the%20sentinel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="805" data-original-width="1875" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgIn4NuDkyL_pQUoFRDaoMviX5E6MHwi4zNiClstzvdCRp-x8XXxTfJ8kZT58Y64S4BAgP1hylty8WG-XmBt2zk0Z12cz2w9q-qs_BsKzNa7IDC8dApc0NZbxYlqIQICbAjgMtZT1vNP5d5qNbDIeCmYX8MUaGYULQQTWWNZWtlHj7dFj60lnLvpP/w400-h171/the%20sentinel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The Sentinel</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;">Check out more from Eric Gagnon <a href="https://www.artstation.com/gryphart" target="_blank">here</a></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-35700446241513035262022-11-04T18:29:00.001-07:002022-11-04T18:29:42.260-07:00Doctor Mecha<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>Doctor Mecha</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by Chris Morton</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Doctor
Mecha had been ten years old when he made his first invention. Of
course he hadn’t been called Doctor Mecha then. Young Alfred, he’d
been. Alfred Junior. Alfred Huang Junior. Son of a pilot, son of a
nurse. His parents had a large house on the coast of Dunedin, and at
that time a flight to the Motherland took ten hours and was so
expensive that even on his pilot’s wages and discount, the father
could only afford the family to visit once a year during the summer.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Nevertheless,
Alfred had a rather close relationship with his grandparents. In fact
he’d been able to recall snippets of memories involving the
earliest visits of all; being pushed on the swing, sat in a high
chair being fed by his grandmother and even a mountain walk to see
wild sheep when he’d dropped an ice-cream and cried and cried,
comforted by his grandpa and tasted chocolate chunks for the first
time. When he couldn’t have yet been three years old, they’d
found him in the outhouse covered in engine oil, cleaned him up and
told no one – but he’d remembered this incident vaguely and one
day when he was nine, he brought it up with his grandma.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Black,
sticky … was it oil?” he’d asked.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">But
… how?” his grandma had gasped. “You must have been only. …
How old was he?” she shouted over to the connecting room where
Alfred’s grandpa was sat, out of sight as was typically the case.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
communicated with his grandparents using a software programme named
Skype-x. A pad called a ‘laptop’ that was basically a screen and
keyboard (a dormant pad with alphabet and numbers to ‘key in’)
was used for this kind of communication. A video image of the other
person would appear on their respective screens. The quality was poor
and there were often delays and occasional shut-downs, but before
this there had only been the telephone, which meant no visual image
at all.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>When
he was just over ten and a half years old, young Alfred had a
brainwave. If he could somehow make the laptop at his grandparent’s
house mobile …</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
tended to talk to his grandma in her kitchen while she cooked or
prepared food. She would often disappear out of sight momentarily.
He’d lean at his screen, wishing he could look around to follow her
movement. His grandpa would come to say hello for all of five
seconds.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Their
house was on a riverbank, deep in the Cotswolds. The ground-floor had
five rooms; the kitchen, wash room, a spacious living and dining
room, another dining room and a toilet. Beside the living room area
were double glass patio doors leading to their large flower garden
with the flowing river at the bottom.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">If
I could just get their laptop to move.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>In
a few weeks he’d rigged up an unsophisticated contraption – it
had started off as a box with wheels, remotely controlled with a
swivelling top on which the laptop could be attached. The swivelling
motion could also be controlled remotely via his computer. He’d
downloaded the program needed which worked on the same principle as
archaic, remotely controlled toys. Practising in his room, Alfred
could command his laptop to move around on the wheels, to twist so
the screen could point at all three hundred and sixty degree angles.
But then he started to go all out, replacing the smaller wheels with
a set of thicker track tires. It could jump down from his desk and
land safely to the floor where it moved about the room.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Mum,
Dad!” he’d shouted, once he was ready to reveal what he’d been
doing for all those spare hours in his room. “Mum, Dad! It’s
finished!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They’d
come in, to witness the scene. The mobile computer shifting about his
room like a little toy robot. Their ten year-old son stared up at
them, beaming.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">What
can it do?” asked his father. Home on leave, he’d been tired,
rubbing his eyes. It was six o’clock in the morning and little
Alfred had been up all night.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">So
this is what you’ve been working on?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>But
they’d been interested, they really had. Proud of their little
prodigy.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I’m
going to send one of these to Grandma and Grandpa!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You’re
going to …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">What’s
it for?” asked his mother.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You’ll
see.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>If
they had only known where it would lead. If they could have stopped
that moment in time; stopped him from getting involved in his new
love for robotics.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>That’s
what they’d called it: the robot. His grandparents had even given
it a face. A little head on a spring attached to the top that would
wobble about cutely.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>In
his little computer body, Alfred could roam the house. “How are you
doing, Grandpa?” he’d ask back from his room in Dunedin, tilting
the screen to see his grandpa sucking on his vapor.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">My
goodness, Alfred,” his grandpa would joke. “Didn’t see you
there … creeping up on me like that.” </span></span>
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Open
the doors for me, Grandpa.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>And
through the little robot, Alfred would move out into the garden,
across the grass and down towards the river.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Sat
in his room in Dunedin, Alfred thought about how to improve the
device. “Stairs,” he’d murmur to himself. “If only I could
build it some legs.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>It
could bob down steps easily enough, but getting back up again was an
impossibility so far.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Somebody
fetch me out of here!” he’d shout, stuck under a tree root, stuck
on his side.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>This,
however, was not the next update.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>On
Alfred’s birthday, his parents had bought him a gaming headset.
Virtual reality. VR. In those days it was like a wrap-around
head-band with a visor; no direct link to the brain. You viewed a
screen just like the pad, but with it pushed up to your eyes it could
trick the brain into experiencing a full awareness of your virtual
surroundings.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
headset was for fantasy games such as Dragon Warriors, Virtual
Fighter and other classics. There were virtual sports games … but
young Alfred had the idea of linking it up to his computer, the
little ‘robot’ that he’d sent to his grandparents. If he could
really see through its ‘eyes’, properly experience an awareness
of actually being there, at their house in the Cotswolds.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
bought a globe-cam (a globe-shaped device enabling three hundred and
sixty degree vision through a complication of built in lenses) and
sat with that and the headset in his room, knowing what he wanted to
achieve, not yet quite knowing how.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>When
Alfred was twelve the second world trade war was at its peak. Further
politics had led to poverty in many parts of the Motherland, though
with owning a house, his grandparents had escaped the worst of it.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>His
parents, however, were not so lucky. New Zealand and especially its
minor cities had become cornered off from the rest of the world.
Dunedin, the southernmost of them all had become a regular ghost
town. His father moved to Japan for test flights of the JP-2 jets
(space-tourism had been put on hold, although preparations for its
inevitable boom were still underway) and not long after this, Alfred
and his mother followed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
was schooled in the Okinawa prefecture, then at fourteen was given
the chance of specialising at the Tokyo college of robotics.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>By
that time the little laptop-come-robot at his grandparents house was
moving around with arms and legs. He’d send them updates with
instructions on how to assemble the extra parts while at the same
time always updating his own model, trying to persuade at least his
grandma to use it in the same way he did; sending her the headset and
everything, all to no avail. But it was this model he’d entered for
an inter-school science competition and it was this that won him the
scholarship to Tokyo.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>At
the age of fourteen, he was the youngest freshman in the history of
that college, a record he still holds to this day.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Our
little prodigy.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>His
parents had been so proud.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>That
year, he qualified as the number one student of the college, his team
designing a robotic stag-beetle, realistic enough to pass as genuine.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
fifteen year-old Alfred hadn’t visited his grandparents in person
for four years, yet when he’d put on his visor he’d be in their
house, their world. In the body of ‘Little Alfred,’ he’d roam
the town at night.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandma.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They
were in the kitchen.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandma,
are you okay?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Using
controls from the gloved pads he was wearing back in their Tokyo
apartment, Alfred moved the robot along the kitchen sideboard to
where his grandmother was bending over the sink, breathing deeply.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandma,”
his voice rang out through the microphone. Little Alfred moved
closer, next to her now, it turned up at her face – she’d gone
white, she was going to faint. “Grandma!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandpa!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandma,
hold on! I’m going to get help.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Little
Alfred jumped down from the work surface, made its way to the next
room where Grandpa was sleeping, snoring in his favourite chair.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandpa!”
screamed Alfred from his home in Tokyo.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
heard a crash from the kitchen.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandpa!
Somebody! Help!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
took off his headset, dialled an international number; emergency
services for the Cotswold area. He told them the address. They’d
need an ambulance.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>When
the call finished, he returned to the headset again. Back in the body
of Little Alfred, he shifted back to the kitchen to see his grandma
had hit her head. Her body was shaking in a disturbing set of spasms.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandma!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
moved closer to the face on the floor. She was smiling.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Alfred,
my boy.” Her lips large and purple moved slowly, so close to his
eyes.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Grandma,
don’t go. They’ll be here soon. I’ve called for help,” he
explained, pleaded. “Just hold on. Help is on its way.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I
love you, Alfred.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
death of Alfred’s grandmother (and shortly after, his grandfather)
is said by some to have been the driving force for his persistence
with the Mecha project.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Without
proper funding, the robots Alfred was building in college were never
to be more than models. Along came a new wave of financial crash as
oil was losing its value and those countries with power held on to
their bargaining chips. Statisticians predicted it would take years
before the Middle East and Russia would catch up with the Western and
Eastern powers. World leaders had become irritable. They wanted
soldiers, not doctors. They wanted armies.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They
needed protection.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Status.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Status,”
his tutor had said, staring at the seventeen year-old Alfred. “If
you quit now, you’ll never build anything.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Alfred’s
design for the robot doctor had been passed from hand to hand, from
university to university. It was certainly impressive. There was
impact. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Revolutionary</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">,
the reply had told him.</span></b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
had then been called before a board of directors: a company from the
Eastern Union.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>In
a silver room of mirrored walls and thick green carpet, the four men
sat behind a wide curved desk in their immaculate suits that spelled
money and funding and a career with prospects.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Controlled
from a remote location by an expert, you say?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">That’s
right,” said Alfred. He stood before them with no seat, the soles
of his sandals sinking into the carpet. The room was circular and he
wondered if it were intentional for him to be feeling this dizzy.
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Intimidation</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">,
he thought. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>They want
something. They need this.</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
He should have been smiling, but sensed something was wrong.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Controlled,
how?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I’m
sure you’ve read the proposal. My paper,” said Alfred, “explains
it all in –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Yes,
yes, we’ve read the paper,” said another. He coughed, looking
across at his three colleagues. “What we want is to hear it in your
own words.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
others rumbled in agreement. They were young, these men. Surprisingly
young. Who were they?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">My
own words,” the seventeen year-old Alfred repeated.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Another
cough, then silence as they waited.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">The
robot,” Alfred began. “It is of a humanoid figure. But the hands,
they the most important feature. To have successfully replicated the
human hand –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Yes,
yes, we know about that,” one of them cut in.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Then
you see how that breakthrough has allowed, has enabled, opened up …
the possibility,” Alfred stumbled, “of creating a force of robot
doctors to be sent –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">A
force, he says,” sneered the youngest looking man of the three.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Let
him continue.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">These
models,” carried on Alfred. “They can be posted all around the
world. We are finding cheaper ways to build them. The actual
materials involved in assembling the droids is relatively
inexpensive. The programming simple.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">How
many of them can you build us?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>This
question came from the oldest of them and in a murmur. Looking up
from the carpet, Alfred stared at the three poker faces. “How …
many?”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">An
army, you say?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Yes,
I mean, no, not an army. They are doctors,” Alfred mumbled.
“Controlled by … you see, that’s the beauty of it. Sending a
qualified doctor to a remote location, his expertise will be needed
once every, well I’m not in charge of the stats but all the
predicted data is there.” It was Alfred’s turn to cough. “The
idea is,” he stumbled, “is that just one doctor can, through the
remote manipulator, be in many places at once.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">At
once?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">No,
I mean no, not at once. But a doctor can jump from location to
location. Where they are needed. It could revolutionise …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Revolutionise
what, Alfred?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>But
Alfred was staring ahead, all the way past the three of them; he was
staring at the future, for he could see it even then.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">This
army,” he heard. “Just how quickly can we get production online?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Things
moved quickly. Doctor Mecha, as he would soon be known as, was forced
to sign the agreement.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Status,”
his tutor had said. “I know what you want, Alfred. “But to get a
project as large as this one underway, there are short-cuts and there
are short-cuts.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">There’s
no other way?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Trust
me,” his tutor had replied. “If you want these doctors of yours
to go into production, it’s better you stay in the project. If you
don’t,” he said darkly, “then it could take a lot longer for
them to realise …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">That
we should be saving people, not killing them?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">That,”
his tutor replied, “is the nature of humanity.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>But
Alfred still didn’t understand. He left the room, left the
university. He returned to his parents, to Okinawa. For three weeks
he hid from them. It had been a dream. A mistake.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Then
two men had caught him on the way home.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">We
have the signatures of your friends,” they’d said lightly.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>One
on each arm, they’d led him back to his home.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">We’ll
be seeing you,” they’d said.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>On
every street corner. In every shop, in every restaurant; outside his
window; dark silhouettes on the beach at night. They were there,
waiting.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">We’ll
be seeing you,” they’d repeat. “Your parents. You love them,
don’t you?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Some
argue it made no difference. That the Eastern Union would have
invaded the Baltics anyway. That the loss of lives would have been
greater, yet the result the same. By then the Eastern Union was the
largest and richest superpower. They had the resources, the numbers.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Doctor
Mecha’s robot army spread quickly across Europe. They were giants,
controlled from booths in classified locations. Booths packed with
soldiers, remotely destroying cities and towns. The opposing armies
were human; rebel fighters were human. They had tanks, they had
weapons, but the soldiers of the East were expendable and larger in
number. The Eastern army of Mecha droids could be repaired; they
marched on like ants, swarming nation after nation.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>White
flags were raised. It was over in months. The Eastern Union
controlled half the world’s commerce. They owned half the world’s
resources.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
Western powers were quick to negotiate their holding over the
Motherland, which remained as a neutral zone of sorts. France and the
Scandinavian Union were taken by the Eastern Union while Canada
re-joined the West. Africa, along with United Iran joined the East,
while the Argentines gave in to Western control.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Fall
in or become our enemy,” was the Eastern message.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Join
the Western powers or give yourselves over to communism,” had been
the answer from New Washington.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred’s
father had taken early retirement. No longer a test pilot, he
revealed to Alfred (who by then had moved in to the adjoining
apartment) that the next generation of pilots were already being
trained in methods of remote piloting.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">No
need for pilots at all,” he’d said over dinner, holding his fork
out absently. “Gamers, that’s who they’re employing. Damned
kids. Damned …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
let his fork drop, looked away to the window.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred’s
mother took up the plates. Her forced smile hurt Alfred more than he
could express. Their politeness, their understanding. They never
blamed him, not out loud.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">It
would have happened eventually,” his mother said to him, another
time when they were in the kitchen. A glass of wine was in her hand.
“And anyway, we’re lucky, really.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Lucky?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">To
be on this side,” she explained, eyes dazed, unable to meet his
own. “You know, you probably did us a favour,” she hiccuped. “If
the West had got there first …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">So
this is it, then?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">This
is it,” replied Alfred.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They
were stood in a warehouse. Alfred’s friend, Suki, worked here
assembling engine parts for automotives. The room was full of buckles
and jacks; wires and belts. In the corner a crate of square
watermelons stood out in the space next to a similar stack of
super-sized kumquats. Between them a large robot stood in the
shadows. From a small window above, rays of sunshine streaked at the
dusty air.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>It
was red and gold in colour with thick arms and torso. Bulky yet
agile, with large hands and fingers that were enveloped in replica
flesh. Across the robot’s front was stamped the Eastern Union flag.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">And
how in the hell did you manage to –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Let’s
just say I pulled at a few connections.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Suki
looked across, suitably impressed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Never
seen one this close.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
even seen one?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
mean in the flesh?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
laughed. “Flesh,” he repeated. “Don’t tell me, you’re
starstruck.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Yeah,
yeah, I know. I’m a dumbass.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Why
I brought you here,” retorted Alfred. He was nineteen by then. They
both were.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
have the RCC for this?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
robot was immobile.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Controls
didn’t come with it,” answered Alfred.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Wait,
you mean …?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Don’t
worry yourself,” Alfred said, placing a palm on Suki’s shoulder.
“It came from a trusted source.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">A
source that could be watching us at this very moment,” answered
Suki in a whisper. “How you know it’s not gonna spring into life?
Dice us up for breakfast,” he murmured, moving closer nonetheless.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
large robot stood there stoically. Like a tower, a statue. It stared
ahead at nothing, this killing machine. The threat of its appearance,
Alfred could only imagine what that must be like when the power came
on.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">And
you’re gonna take it apart?” asked Suki, staring up into the
robot’s eyes as though it were more than just a complication of
cables, plastic and metal. As though it were listening …</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">The
plan,” answered Alfred.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>When
their eyes met, he huffed, not exactly knowing. Gazing around at the
dismantled engine parts, Alfred suddenly felt so small. He stared
back at Suki.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You’ll
help me.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
know I will.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">It
may take some time.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Got
your back, man. No one else comes in here.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">No
boss that’s gonna –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Hey,
when it comes to this place, there’s only one boss, and that’s
me.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Suki
walked back to Alfred. He took his hand. “You gotta do this, I
know.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Yeah
…”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Give
it hell, dude. You designed it. It’s your baby.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Just
the two of them and the dormant robot. Every day, Alfred would go
there. Doctor Mecha taking apart his creation piece by piece. The
months wore on while meanwhile the Eastern Union took Canada.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
Western powers were by then building their own Mecha droids. They
were larger, stronger, but moved much more slowly. The first Mecha
battle took place in Michigan in August 2044, bizarrely becoming more
of a sports event than a political fight for territory. The media
coverage focussed on the Mecha themselves, comparing design and
strategy. Bets were won and lost. Individuals and conglomerates –
money was there to be made. The West then came out with a newer,
faster model, this one manned by humans sat within the robot bodies
of the Mecha. These models proved at first to be superior; despite
the loss of human life, the Western powers were fighting back. But
the Eastern Mecha were so large in number that it wasn’t long
before they had regained their ground. Bets were exchanged again
while the Eastern Union moved south to Washington, the whole world
watching the live feeds.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
heard the latest?” asked Suki.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred’s
Mecha robot lay splayed across the warehouse in bits.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Don’t
tell me. We’ve taken Hawaii.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Not
yet.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Not
yet,” Alfred repeated.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
stood up, hands on hips. A tall, thin twenty year-old. Much taller
than Suki, by this time much thinner. Suki drank too much beer.
Alfred worked too hard.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
know, I’ve been thinking,” said Suki.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I
don’t wanna hear it.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Just
hear me out.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I
know what you’re gonna say. So don’t. Not you as well. Get enough
of this from my parents. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Find
a job, plenty of opportunities for a young man of your talent.</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
spat on the concrete floor.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
know, the answer could be in the communications.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">It’s
not the communications.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Break
the connection, they’re about as useful as this one,” Suki
murmured, walking over to an engine he was working on.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
stared at his own engine – at the broken robot. “Too obvious,”
he sighed. “Anyway, we’ve been through this before. It has to be
–”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Has
to be what? You been at it for a year and what’ve you found?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">It’s
here,” Alfred whispered. “The answer’s staring right at me.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Later
that night, the two of them sat in the warehouse eating noodles and
watching the latest video feed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Gotta
hand it ’em,” slurped Suki. “Those brutes can sure kick some
ass.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
view on the screen was showing a close up of an Eastern Mecha
pulverising a tank from the Western Powers. As they watched, it
lifted the said tank up, which by then was a nugget of metal. It
lifted it high and threw it across the street-turned-battlefield,
then turned to see a Western Mecha running at it full pelt.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
Western model was much larger. It had a human inside, but the human
was not visible; though the stance, the posture was much more
human-like as it bowled over the Eastern Mecha in the mightiest of
tackles.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
know these feeds are delayed,” commented Suki, waving his
chopsticks at the screen. “If that WEB takes out ours, I’m a
monkey’s uncle.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
laughed, appreciating the fact that Suki still had the power to
lighten his mood. He stared across at his friend, at his light hands
stabbing the chopsticks back into his bowl; watched as he lifted out
more noodles that with a flick of his wrist, he’d woven into a
ball.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">They
don’t use weapons,” Alfred said, looking back at the screen.
“They use gloves, gloves made of the hardest steel.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
know as well as I do that weapons are useless.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Bullets
don’t make a dent. Electric bolts are like snacks to them …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Lasers?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Lasers,”
Alfred scoffed, still looking at the screen while like a wrestler,
the Eastern Mecha had turned the other onto its back. “Time it’d
take to penetrate even the first layer of shielding.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">So
make ’em more powerful.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Make
them …” </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>And then the
sudden realisation.</i></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Look
at their hands,” Alfred whispered.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Which
ones?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Ours
… our own …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Dunno
what you mean, they’re not, you mean their gloves? Or you mean –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Exactly,”
Alfred said, rising unsteadily. “My God, why didn’t I see it
before!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
began pacing the room, his brow furrowed in intensity. He’d gone
over to another world. “The hands,” he was mumbling.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I
still don’t –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Can’t
you see it?!” shouted Alfred.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
turned back to Suki, taking him by the shoulders. “I can destroy
them,” he said, eyes now shot with madness. “I can …”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred’s
father came to his room later that night. He’d let himself in to
Alfred’s place when Alfred had failed to answer any calls. He’d
ascended the stairs, pushed open the door.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">So
you’re packing?” he asked, for Alfred was sat in the middle of
the room stuffing belongings into a large rucksack.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
looked up, dazed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Yes,
I mean …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You’re
going away?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Unable
to meet his father’s eyes, Alfred replied that it was complicated.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
father sat down on Alfred’s soft double bed. He pulled out a stick
of chewing gum, tore at the wrapper and began to chew slowly.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">This
thing you’ve been working on …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">What
thing?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Staring
down at his son, the father said nothing.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>With
a huff, Alfred went back to his packing, stuffing in a bundle of
socks from under the desk next to him. He moved over to a drawer,
sifted through a pile of t-shirts. Looking back at his father, he
said again: “It’s complicated.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
know your mother and I are very proud of you.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You’re
very …?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">What
you did.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
went back to the t-shirts, the hunch of his back at his father. “What
I did was cause all of this,” he mumbled. “This, war. This –”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">It
would have happened with or without you.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">But
I designed them, dammit!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
slammed the drawer shut.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Nobody
can blame you. This past year, we know you’ve been trying to put
right what you did.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Oh,
you do, do you?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">And
now you’ve found a way,” continued the father. “We could see it
in your face. When you came home tonight. We saw you through the
window and your mother said –”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">So
what if I have?” huffed Alfred, twisting round, jutting his face up
in defiance. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>These people,
what did they know?</i></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
can destroy them?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I
can. … Yes,” Alfred relented. “I can and I will.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
heard his father sigh, watched him chew slowly, grasping for the
right words. “We were afraid this day may come,” the father
spoke. “You’re an intelligent boy. More than intelligent.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Your
little prodigy.” Alfred stuffed the chosen t-shirts into his pack.
“The prodigy who destroyed the world.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Peace
will come.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Peace?!”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">It
will come. Soon. Eventually. One state. One rule.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">My
God,” Alfred spat. “You sound just like them.” </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>This
man before him, the greying hair and sad expression. The man who had
once beamed at Alfred with such sparkle, so proud.</i></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Who
are you going to give this idea to? The Americans?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Maybe.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">You
want to give power over to the West?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">The
West will bring peace.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">The
West will fight back. They’ll want the return of what they’ll say
is rightfully theirs. My God, Alfred,” the father cried. “This
war could go on forever if you even the balance.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">How
do you know I want to even anything?” said Alfred with forced
rebelliousness. “Maybe I’m just a traitor. Could be that I’ll
give the Western powers the means to crush us all.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Alfred,
my boy, we both know that’s not what you want.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">So
what do I want, then?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">To
erase your part in this. To destroy your own Mecha. That’s what
you’ve been working on …”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Suki,”
Alfred murmured.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Not,
not Suki. Your mother and I. … You’re our son. We see it in you.
The shame, the regret, the … anger.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Then
you understand,” said Alfred now rising to a standing position. He
picked up his backpack. “Be seeing you, Pa.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Alfred
…”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>But
Alfred was already out the door. He was off without even saying
goodbye to his mother. Or to Suki, the only friend he had, who’d
stuck by him.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Suki,”
Alfred hushed, walking through the night; the lit up harbour below
him, where his passage was waiting; a boat not to the mainland but to
the Pacific island of Guam, still under Western rule.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
had set up a meeting and from there he’d be taken by fighter jet to
Washington.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i><b>Flying
in a jet like his father.</b></i></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He
smiled, coughed and he sang out loud, making his way down the hill to
the busy harbour below.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They’d
believe him – even then he was with the nickname of ‘Doctor
Mecha’ in some reports.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Going
over to the other side.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>But
he’d end it. End it for good.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i><b>The
hands.</b></i></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
laughed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>It’d
been so damned obvious.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
flesh. The weakness.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Mr.
Huang.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Alfred
turned at the sound of his name. At the formality. At the suit.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Mr.
Huang, I’ve a message for you.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A
thickset man in dark-red business clothes. Sunglasses and the
notability of profession. He was holding out a gun, the barrel
pointed casually at the easily dressed twenty year-old roboticist
looking back at him in shock.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">A
message,” the man repeated. But they both knew what was coming
next.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>In
2059, the Western Powers finally surrendered to Eastern Union
control. In seventeen years the East and their Mechas had achieved
total world domination.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Suki
was by then married with a second baby on the way. The next
generation would learn that the Mecha war had been a revolution.
Scholars would say that it had been inevitable and even necessary. A
one planet rule.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The
Mecha army remained. People were encouraged to call them Peace-bots,
or Peas, for short. Their design changed to that of a more cuddly
appearance. A matriarchal, watchful eye. Less for intimidation and
threat, more of a reminder that peace should remain at all cost. That
we had to work together.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Doctor
Mecha’s name began to be thrown around in legend. Some say he’s
alive even now. Some say it was his parents who sold him out, who
notified the authorities when he threatened to betray the Eastern
Powers in the hope of stopping the war and bringing about a settled
peace. Others say it was his friend Suki, who later, to the contrary,
became outspoken in defending the name of his former friend.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A
thousand history essays, a thousand debates. If he could have in fact
done so, would Doctor Mecha have been right to put a premature end to
the fighting?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Very
few people died in the third world war. Robots fighting robots.
Eastern Power. World control. Victory!</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Peace.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Some
say we’re living on borrowed time. A poisoned chalice; a corrupt
leader – that this is all it would take for the world as it is to
regress into a much darker age. That utilitarianism ignores justice.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>On
every street corner the Mecha robots stare down at us as we pass.
They are watching. Listening. Those men behind the machinery in their
castles, far away. They care for us, keep us in line.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A
statue of Doctor Mecha stands in New Times Square. He’s bending
down inspecting the hand of a first model Mecha droid. The droid too
is made of grey stone, though the Eastern Union flag across its front
is boldly painted in red and white.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>If
you gaze at them for long enough you may see the sadness in Doctor
Mecha’s eyes. The lanky figure of the roboticist. Lost hope.
Confusion. A well meant vision that somehow would never turn out to
be quite what he’d hoped.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">It’s
unknown if the sculptor intended this impression, but many have
commented upon it. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>The sad
scientist</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">, they say. And
there’s talk of the authorities taking it down, replacing it.</span></b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Go
see it yourself, while you still have the chance.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span lang="en-GB"><b>Doctor
Mecha, the child prodigy who grew up to be remembered as the father
of the modern world; whose original design for remotely controlled
droid doctors finally came to use during the Great Rebuilding. With
no wars, no famine, and disease under control, there is even talk of
Mecha droids being sent to Mars; talk among scientists that they
could go even further; that the possibilities are endless.</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><div align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><em>Chris Morton is the creator of this blog.</em></span></div><div align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><em>He has released two sci-fi novels,</em></span></div><div align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><em>one collection of </em></span><em style="font-family: garamond; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;">short stories</em></div><div align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><em style="font-family: garamond; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;">and a few other scribblings.</em></div><div align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><em>You can find his amazon page </em><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Chris-Morton/e/B007ZRY2YQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1550675511&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><em>here.</em></a></span><em></em></div><div><em><br /></em></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-5307391377797879642022-10-25T05:53:00.003-07:002022-10-25T05:53:29.744-07:00Art - Pavel Oliva<p style="text-align: center;"> Art - <a href="https://www.artstation.com/paveloliva" target="_blank">Pavel Oliva</a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcEicPTlCJ2u1oWomadmxM3ka7ZGw64GGd0c6DsqfMf_kFEAIc58jtbXWPI71mNZhk6w7IVkGdmUq5n_x2jMp-MdYA6xxk9sJm6NjJboDfSDZDC8tSMY_7EBh10WHGb7mrx86iON9OLbO1KFLNoGhct3Ys8CJ2XyQooeRNkC2Eyap3ex6F5vezq2M/s1920/photospace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcEicPTlCJ2u1oWomadmxM3ka7ZGw64GGd0c6DsqfMf_kFEAIc58jtbXWPI71mNZhk6w7IVkGdmUq5n_x2jMp-MdYA6xxk9sJm6NjJboDfSDZDC8tSMY_7EBh10WHGb7mrx86iON9OLbO1KFLNoGhct3Ys8CJ2XyQooeRNkC2Eyap3ex6F5vezq2M/w400-h225/photospace.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Photospace</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEECCX5wlsTSrKMhQwPDvYRN_qLMs3A2dyUHQBmTyxl2mi3ZhZFb9gdmf7HDsenPtCbQN0o4u_3HULGQNWhZmUEyC2bME2HZhCNaLPQmVYsJCjR5Sdve9pAmdJY7poptSoIgzegpSraMsz5o3REgAOl9IHsDVwRvbOQU9sc5uPIGa-1M2VmLR29NDK/s1920/Menhirs%20of%20Immortality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEECCX5wlsTSrKMhQwPDvYRN_qLMs3A2dyUHQBmTyxl2mi3ZhZFb9gdmf7HDsenPtCbQN0o4u_3HULGQNWhZmUEyC2bME2HZhCNaLPQmVYsJCjR5Sdve9pAmdJY7poptSoIgzegpSraMsz5o3REgAOl9IHsDVwRvbOQU9sc5uPIGa-1M2VmLR29NDK/w400-h225/Menhirs%20of%20Immortality.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Menhirs of Immortality</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ3ijTUY81gDAxl4q0aHV6yhD8k-f2taOHaViImTItwLrn8g1yJRD0fOCVFlCsyf0WH6KezyxzfSYsIfClwUcUmazTTwXFD_5do_FEVEDpCRIO9Axd1z29FzRhzjXScFf3C87OPsp9etbwVdcCHnENA-elfZwPchRqMyWTB6PdPvXWhD81BLbfIHA4/s1920/gate-to-ether.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ3ijTUY81gDAxl4q0aHV6yhD8k-f2taOHaViImTItwLrn8g1yJRD0fOCVFlCsyf0WH6KezyxzfSYsIfClwUcUmazTTwXFD_5do_FEVEDpCRIO9Axd1z29FzRhzjXScFf3C87OPsp9etbwVdcCHnENA-elfZwPchRqMyWTB6PdPvXWhD81BLbfIHA4/w400-h225/gate-to-ether.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Gate to Ether</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGS7DE8Nsp8iq20o3DfLbcMy6pCl3s7ZirPvC_IaAlqcbxvPj4dOgZLongahHw7Rk7j6ksf_7FRHb4S2QfIE6itQCI4x2BCXzxIQwg03oIE_Zw6pGY2vDelhk-KpOHvtLbRRmkj7gxeDu5c3jaGYnEVPOajys9_BlpLloDlDL3sg40gcxL_OXRmF5R/s1642/Lab%20Robbery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1642" data-original-width="1300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGS7DE8Nsp8iq20o3DfLbcMy6pCl3s7ZirPvC_IaAlqcbxvPj4dOgZLongahHw7Rk7j6ksf_7FRHb4S2QfIE6itQCI4x2BCXzxIQwg03oIE_Zw6pGY2vDelhk-KpOHvtLbRRmkj7gxeDu5c3jaGYnEVPOajys9_BlpLloDlDL3sg40gcxL_OXRmF5R/w316-h400/Lab%20Robbery.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Lab Robbery</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd08U8pN0__8GSMSQewZHP8dpXxbaRpY9shTBrbOfDI7TWKJzL0GXVEKsI6gsEvGZCByajlJz1Y6HCOXkFgsdUE0Ci3XEmlVo5dWJhXqiAc5iPlS-O7BoEU3bKaY2eXsmKx23BqcIaJQnuQvW87aZWYkIfTird2dTxgJ4Z2vcJh3W4gEew-I3S_62g/s2715/pavel-oliva-the-cube-jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2715" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd08U8pN0__8GSMSQewZHP8dpXxbaRpY9shTBrbOfDI7TWKJzL0GXVEKsI6gsEvGZCByajlJz1Y6HCOXkFgsdUE0Ci3XEmlVo5dWJhXqiAc5iPlS-O7BoEU3bKaY2eXsmKx23BqcIaJQnuQvW87aZWYkIfTird2dTxgJ4Z2vcJh3W4gEew-I3S_62g/w283-h400/pavel-oliva-the-cube-jpg.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The Cube</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGR397Dio8j-2XbLWTNkfuEpvp-sWPDestFJkP9d63QVn4Vm6Zheuq-0ntLWMzNWYbo23D_UCu2LTphyKg6GtKg-jvNBT0ITrNhVSe6T34nV40BX7iGz5bbb16sKJMizpJVANou2KNE1fBC6FV-14LKq9BudaIH0kApHOvpSgU1moMI51RXYwltPbK/s1920/Tarox's%20Car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGR397Dio8j-2XbLWTNkfuEpvp-sWPDestFJkP9d63QVn4Vm6Zheuq-0ntLWMzNWYbo23D_UCu2LTphyKg6GtKg-jvNBT0ITrNhVSe6T34nV40BX7iGz5bbb16sKJMizpJVANou2KNE1fBC6FV-14LKq9BudaIH0kApHOvpSgU1moMI51RXYwltPbK/w400-h225/Tarox's%20Car.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Tarox's Car</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-79724412704525978012022-10-20T19:26:00.001-07:002022-11-06T01:25:01.899-08:00Come Into My Parlor by Charles E. Fritch<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>Come Into My Parlor</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by Charles E. Fritch</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;"><br />
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I found Johnny a few blocks from our
hotel in a little bar that was nearly deserted. He was sitting alone
at a table in a dark corner, staring morosely at nothing in
particular, his hand limp around an almost-empty glass. He seemed
perfectly sober, though his eyes stared glassily ahead.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I sat down beside him. "What do
you say we go back to the hotel, Johnny? Tomorrow's another slave
day."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>His eyes shifted to me and then back
to nothing. I wondered if he had actually seen me.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"We can talk about it over some
coffee and a bit to eat." </b></span><b style="font-family: "Courier New", serif; text-indent: 0.56cm;">I suggested, placing my hand on his
arm.</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Go to hell," he said
quietly and shook me loose. He lifted his glass, drained the last few
drops. He held the empty glass to the light, then set it down,
regretfully. "But first buy me a drink."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"You'd better go home," I
said. "You've had enough."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He laughed harshly. "Look who's
giving me orders. I know things about this cock-eyed old world you
never had nightmares about, and you're ordering me around! Bossy
newspapermen! Go to hell, then; I'll get my own drink."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He rose unsteadily and managed his
way to the bar. He came back with the glass full.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"You still here. I thought I
told you--"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"You'd better lay off that
stuff," I said quietly. "You're not used to it."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Boy, oh boy, you're just full
of orders today, aren't you? Charlie Bennet, boy crusader! Well, I've
got something you can crusade about. Anything else you'd like?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"That's enough for now."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"You're damn right it is. Now
get the hell out of here and leave me alone. Can't you see I'm
brooding over the fate of the world?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"What are you so mad about?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He looked annoyed, and a little
startled. "Brother, if you only knew –"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He raised his glass, and then stopped
and set it on the table. "Wait a minute. Maybe I ought to tell
you. Maybe I ought to let the two of us worry about it, instead of
just me. Maybe you should print it in that newspaper of yours."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"I'm willing to listen, anyway."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Sure! Why not? I'm just
beginning to experience that rosy sensation, that warm feeling of
camaraderie they keep stoppered up in bottles. It's the only place on
this planet you can find it."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Don't be cynical."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Maybe I should bust out
laughing. The whole thing's really funny; it's the funniest thing
I've ever heard."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"We'd better go."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Sure, let's go. But first –
you want to see something really funny? Here."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He took a pair of glasses from his
pocket and handed them to me. They seemed like ordinary shell-rimmed
glasses, though the lenses were tinted a slight blue.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Put them on," he prompted.
"Go ahead."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Where'd you get these?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"Made 'em," he said. "My
job is optical research, remember. I was fooling around in the lab
with some invisible light experiments. The right combination of
lenses and coatings –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">and
whammo! This." He took a drink. "I should have been a
lawyer or a plumber or something." He grunted. "Or even a
newspaperman!"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"What are they supposed to
do</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">-</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">see
in the dark?"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He laughed humorlessly. "That'd
be a boon for a reporter, wouldn't it? No, my friend, much worse than
that. Try them on. Go ahead."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I did. "Well?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Notice anything peculiar?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"The coating makes everything
here seem bluish – maybe even unearthly, if that's what you want –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">but –"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"C'mon outside, then," he
said. This time he took my arm and steered me from the bar. I was
glad of the opportunity to get him into the night air.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Look at the sky," he
directed. "See anything unusual?" He stood waiting,
expectant.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"I see stars," I said.
"Nothing unusual about that, is there?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Stars! Only stars?" His
voice had lost its tinge of sarcasm. His fingers were tight on my
arm. "Look, across the sky, see those luminous bands? All across
the sky. Like a giant spider web."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I looked again. After awhile, I said,
"Sorry, Johnny, but there aren't any luminous bands, spider webs
or otherwise. I think we'd better get to the room. A good night's
rest –"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"Wait a minute," he cried
suddenly, his face pale. "You think I'm drunk –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">or worse. I tell you there </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>is</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
something up there. Shining streamers crisscrossing the sky, like –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">like –"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"There's nothing, Johnny. Only
stars."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I took the glasses off. He made a
quick grab for them and somehow they fell to the pavement and
shattered.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>For a moment, Johnny stared at the
glittering fragments, his jaws working. "You've broken them,"
he accused finally, his eyes filled more with sudden despair than
hatred. "It took weeks to build them."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"It was an accident," I
told him. "But it's just as well they are broken. I tell you,
Johnny, there's nothing unusual in the sky. Nothing at all. Spider
webs! Next you'll be seeing pink elephants."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Johnny stood in the cool night and
stared at the sky. "They're up there, I tell you. They're up
there, and I want to know why. And there's one thing I want to know
more than anything else; suppose they're really spider webs--"
His face was deathly white. "Are there spiders?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He stared at me insanely in the
darkness. "Do you realize what that would mean, Charlie? Giant
spiders, invisible, roaming across the Earth!" His fingers were
digging into my arm again.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Johnny, come out of it," I
snapped, shaking him. "There is no web in the sky, you hear me?
And there aren't any spiders, either. It's just some crazy figment of
your imagination. That's all."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"But just suppose there are,"
he persisted, a little wildly.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"Maybe –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">maybe it's not just the
glasses. Maybe it's partly me, too; maybe I'm the only one who can
see them; maybe that's why you didn't see the web. Maybe –"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Johnny, be sensible! If there
were such monsters roaming around, don't you think they'd have been
discovered by now?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"I don't know," he said,
helplessly. "I don't know, and it's driving me crazy. You've
probably wondered why I haven't slept very well for the past couple
of weeks; well, that's the reason. I didn't want to say anything. I
hardly dared put the glasses on, I was so afraid. Not of being
thought crazy, but –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">but
afraid of what </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>they</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
might do if they knew they were discovered."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Look, Johnny. Even supposing
you might be right, why wouldn't they show themselves? Why just stay
up in the sky in a large web?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Maybe they're sizing us up,"
Johnny said, trembling but not with cold. "After all, we've got
a few weapons, too. Maybe a machine gun or an atomic bomb can hurt
them, as well as humans."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Unless they're here for some
good?" I suggested.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Johnny laughed. "Spiders? Maybe
they're hungry –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">and
they think we're a bunch of flies down here. That's more likely."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"Isn't this –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">rather fantastic?"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Of course it is. Why do you
suppose I've been keeping quiet about it for the past two weeks? Why
do you suppose I'm out trying to get drunk?" He added
disgustedly: "I can't even do that."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"C'mon," I said, "let's
go to the room and we'll have some coffee. We can talk about it
there."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Sure," he said, and his
voice was suddenly subdued. "Sure, why not?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>We went to the hotel room and I made
some coffee, being careful to slip enough sleeping tablets in
Johnny's cup. In a few minutes he was sprawled across the bed.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">I went to the window and looked at
the glowing beads of traffic below. I looked at the sky –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">at the stars. Spiders in the
sky; what a story that would make. The editor'd slap me in the booby
hatch if I ever handed in a who-what-when-where like that.</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>When I left for work the next
morning, Johnny was still snoozing. Let him sleep it off. Do him
good. He'd been working too hard at the lab, anyhow.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I couldn't get back to the hotel room
that morning, though I wanted to see if Johnny was okay. I was pretty
busy writing a human interest yarn kidding the pants off some
astronomer's notion that light waves coming from certain portions of
the sky were being deflected or refracted slightly for no discernible
reason.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The amount of difference was
microscopic, and I wrote it up to emphasize its ridiculous splitting
of hairs and the fact that you can't take some of these crackpots
seriously. Here the world is on the verge of coming apart at the
seams, and they worry about wayward light rays.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">During the afternoon, I managed to
drop into the hotel to see if Johnny had slept off the liquor and the
sleeping tablets. He had, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed,
looking grim –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">and
a little perplexed.</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"How ya feeling, Johnny?" I
said.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Great," he said, though he
didn't sound it. "Things seem a lot clearer this morning."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Good. I thought they would. You
know, you really had me going last night. I thought you meant all
that stuff, but I guess imagination and a few beers can do a lot."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Cut the kidding," he said
grimly.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"What?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"I said, cut it. I'm not in the
mood."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Now what's the matter?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"This," he said. He held up
a pair of glasses, twins to those destroyed.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"But –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">how could you have made
another set? You haven't been near the lab today."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"When I first discovered this
web business, I made two pair of glasses. I figured two people could
do something about it a whole lot easier than just one. But I was
afraid to let anyone in on it. I thought maybe I </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>was</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
batty."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"So?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"I made this pair for you. For
you, Charlie, so you could write the stuff up in your paper to let
people know. That's a laugh, isn't it?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"Say –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">that's swell. But –"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Stand back!" Johnny cried
suddenly, as I started to move toward him. He snatched a gun from
beneath a pillow and waved it threateningly. "Know what I was
doing this afternoon before you came in?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Johnny, this is crazy! Put down
that gun and listen to reason."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"I had the glasses on," he
continued, "and I was looking out the window here. I'm getting
real brave –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">even
in broad daylight –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">but
there comes a time when you just don't care. I saw </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>spiders</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
in the streets. Huge spiders walking along the streets, mingling with
human beings. And get this, Charlie –</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">when I took the glasses off,
they were like human beings. Like humans, you understand. You know
what that means? They're in disguise all around us!"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"That's not true, Johnny,"
I insisted. "There are no webs in the sky. There are </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>no</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">
spiders. It's your imagination. The strain. Working in the lab –"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"No," he cried, and the gun
never wavered. "You know what else I saw? A few minutes ago. I
was looking down into the street, and a spider got out of a car just
in front of the hotel here and started coming in. I took off the
glasses to see if it might be someone I knew."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He began to laugh hysterically. "You
know who it was, Charlie –"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I leaped forward, trying to knock the
gun down. But Johnny's hand came up, and the gun jumped, spurting
noise and flame. The bullet slammed into my body.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Desperately, I drove forward. My arms
went around him. The gun went off again, before I could prevent it. A
furrow of pain shot across my stomach, and I shrieked out in sudden
anguish.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Johnny, Johnny. Stop it. Stop!"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I struck his hand. The gun clattered
to the floor. He was struggling frantically, striking out against me
with doubled fists. His shirt was splattered with my blood. He
gasped, clearing his lungs for a scream.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>There was nothing else I could do.
The life was draining from me.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>I held his arms and legs together and
tried not to look into the terrified expression crossing his face. I
held him tightly while he squirmed in helpless frustration.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.56cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>And with my two remaining arms I
strangled him!</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Liberation Serif, serif;">You
can check out Charles E. Fritch’s wikipedia page <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_E._Fritch" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__512_406586733"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>This story is taken from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=science+fiction+short+stories&submit_search=Go%21" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>. The </i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine February 1953. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-2454460429899747822022-10-12T20:18:00.001-07:002022-10-12T20:18:18.636-07:00Spaceman's Luck by George O. Smith<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>Spaceman's Luck</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by George O. Smith</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A flare of light arced upwards and moments later the shattering report dinned in the ears of the crowd, rolling across the field like thunder. The noise covered the sharply indrawn breath of ten thousand people. A sonorous voice amplified a millionfold announced: "X Minus Fifteen Minutes!"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>There was a second or two of absolute silence and then the waiting crowd let out its breath all at once in an audible sigh. They wiped their glasses nervously, or poised their binoculars, or scratched their heads for the last nervous time, hoping that they would not sneeze at the improper second and so miss the takeoff; it would be over just about that quickly.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Out across the field, the focus of ten thousand pairs of eyes, stood the </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">. She looked small from the crowd, but the three men who stood at one tail-fin were dwarfed by her size.</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"This is about it, Gordon," said the oldest of the lot.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Gordon Holt nodded. "I've about five minutes yet," he said nervously.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The middle-aged man said, "Time for a last cigarette, Gordon."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Holt shook his head. "Not after training to do without for six months. Save it until I come back."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Doctor Walsch nodded. "That's good sense, Gordon. We'll be waiting for you. How do you feel?"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Fine. Just a bit jumpy."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"You ought to feel as fit as a Guarnerius. You've been trained and you're trim and fit. I doubt that you'll ever feel any better in your life than you do right now."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>General Towne nodded. "Don't forget the honor, either," he said. "The excitement should give your high feelings another lift. Imagine being the first man to ever set foot on the soil of another world."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"It's a bit of a sterile world, I'm told. Not much more honor than the first man to put his sandal on the top of Pike's Peak. They sell postcards there, now."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Too bad we've named all the visible Lunar Craters," said General Towne. "Seems to me that some signal honor--well, anyway, Gordon, we'll name a big one on the other side after you."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"It –"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A siren wailed and Holt jumped. "That's it," he said.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Good luck, Gordon," said the general, wringing the spaceman's hand. The doctor clapped Gordon on the back as he turned away.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Doctor and general got into the waiting jeep, and the driver turned and called, "Don't take any wooden moonbeams up there, Holt!"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Holt shrugged noncommittally and climbed the ramp into the spacelock. He sneered at the crowd beyond closing spacelock.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Wooden moonbeams?" he said aloud. "Oh brother!"</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">He went to the control chamber of the </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> and ran through his checklist almost mechanically. He waited almost breathlessly until the radio barked the word that told him to hit the ignition switch, and when it came he hit it with a vigor and enjoyed the crushing sensation that followed. The thunder from below was music in his ears; now he was on his way and they wouldn't call him back.</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Holt was no mere glory machine. Not for him was the simple honor. He had it planned, had it planned from the moment he was selected.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>For Holt, the honor of setting the first foot on another world was a flat and tasteless award. It would last only until someone else did something slightly better. What could he get out of driving a space rocket to Luna? Not a hell of a lot. He was not headed for an adventure and he knew it; with everything precalculated, including the risk, what adventure could he have? To land and collect a quart of pumice and a pound of rock and maybe a shiny stone. Look for lichen or moss. Listen to the Geiger.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>This sort of dry action would sell no books, collect no royalties, make no moving pictures, bring in no dough.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Gordon took a deep breath as soon as the motor cut off. He was on his way and he knew how to handle everything from here on in.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He had seen enough of human nature to foresee it all. A slight mishap and a call for help would start it. A landing just hard enough to bend the control vanes or to plug up the rocket exhaust. Maybe to dinge up the spacecraft enough to make it unspaceworthy. Then –</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The cry for help and the whole world crying in return that a Human Being was marooned out there, helpless and alone.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They'd come.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They'd turn handsprings to get out there. Time and money would be tossed down the drain, and men would strive and women would cry, and the news would be filled with daily columns of how the rescue was progressing.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Drop a man in the ocean and the navies of every country go out and comb the sea to find him. Put a cat on the telephone pole and three hundred people struggle to get the animal down. Drop a child in a well and the countryside turns out en masse to help.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Well, maroon a man on the moon and watch 'em struggle.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He had air for ninety days and food and water and just about anything a man would need. He could sit it out and he knew it. And he knew that there was a second rocket that could be put in space within a couple of months. Sixty days he'd sit it out and then –</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>It would be the story of his life, the tale of his rescue, the bright lights and the personal appearances. Radio and television and endorsing this junk and that googoo. Women and liquor and money.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He came down in the Crater Plato, tail first but far too fast. The tailfins crumpled and the sifting pumice drove up into the exhaust and packed like cement. A seam whistled far below to let out some air from a sealed compartment, cracked in the bump.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The crash staggered him a bit, but all he suffered was a nosebleed and a set of sprained chest muscles. He sat up and looked around.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">The radio. He snapped it on and called: "</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> Gordon Holt reporting. Made a crash landing. May be dangerous. Will check and call at 0300."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He eyed the radio thoughtfully; it only took about three seconds for an answer, but in that time Gordon considered smashing the radio in the middle of the next broadcast and then discarded the idea because it might lead people to think that he, too, had been smashed. Gordon wanted to be rescued, not given a hero's brief hail and farewell.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"Calling </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">. Holt! Are you all right? Explain!"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"I am all right. I am not hurt. Crash landing rather rough but nothing broken. No air leakage, nothing completely ruined that I can tell. Landed as per program in the dead center of Plato, but a little too hard."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>That ought to do it. Let 'em get excited slowly. They'll forget me less slowly.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> what happened?" They were worried.</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"I don't know. I have a hunch that the pumice does not provide a true ground-plane for the radar. We landed as though the ground were about thirty feet below the surface."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>That sounds logical. Such things are entirely possible, I'm told. Powdery, filmy stuff with no water shouldn't have a firm ground-plane.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> inspect your damage and report as planned at 0300."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Holt checked his air first. Plenty of it. Not a bit gone. Water next and food next. He checked the hull as well as he could from the inside and then went out in his space suit to view the damage.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He had done an admirable job. The tail fins were bent messily and the hull was crumpled a bit just above the place where the rocket motor ended. If this ship took off –</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> calling home. Reporting as per plan. Hull bent, tail fins ruined. Crater filled with powdery pumice and I feel that the exhaust is packed. Shall I try a blast to clear it?"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>While he waited for the answer Gordon found a bit of wire and shorted the battery for a second. He had to fade out slowly enough to fool them completely.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">, do not try a clearing blast. You'll explode. Wait for instructions."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Will do. Will do."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He shorted the battery a couple more times and watched the voltmeter drop.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> can you dig down to the exhaust port?"</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>"Will try. Note battery dropping. Nothing else in danger. Food, water, air all okay. Hull sound but battery dropping."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Seconds went on and Holt could see the resources of the entire world collecting to prepare the First Spacewreck Rescue. Complete with video, reporters, clergymen, politicians, and humanity waiting.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> repeat. You are fading."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Holt repeated, insisting that he was all right. "I can stick it out. I can stick it out."</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>He watched the radio battery fade.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Let it fade. He could stand the silence for two months until rescue came.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A billion people listened to his voice die away. And when their radio networks went dead, they raced to their telephones and clogged the land wires demanding that something had to be done.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Congressmen gave speeches and clergymen spoke and doctors gave opinions and scientists differed. A government seldom known for its cooperation announced that its new atomic-powered rocket was about to effect the rescue single-handedly. But the atomic part blew up in front of the video cameras and took some of the landscape with it. The Council of the United Nations called a meeting. The newspapers and networks covered everything.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A man known for his brilliance came on the air.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">"The batteries of the </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> have run down," he said. "We must get there in less than ten days."</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>They tried to do it.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A second rocket exploded in France.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>A third blew up in Germany.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The fourth would not be ready for space for sixty days.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>That was seventy long days after Holt's landing.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Without a miracle, Holt would be dead, even if the experts were wrong.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Protestants prayed, Catholics crossed themselves, and Mohammedans called it </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>kismet</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> and let it go at that. A scientist suggested that since there was no habitable planet in the solar system and that mankind could never reach the stars, there was small point in this effort to make space travel pay off. An economist computed the sum of money shelled out already and called it damned foolishness. A Senator Maculay suggested that taxes could be lowered if such expenditures were cut out.</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>And ten days after the accident there was a world-wide prayer said for Gordon Holt.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The other rocket at White Sands grew cobwebs in its empty fuel tanks.</b></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">And the </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><i>Lady Luna</i></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"> slipped into the dark of the moon. It grew colder and colder as time went on. …</span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__512_406586733"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>This story is taken from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=science+fiction+short+stories&submit_search=Go%21" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>. The </i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine February 1953. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-710344618669003552022-10-12T20:08:00.001-07:002022-10-12T20:19:48.675-07:00Bookspot - Behind Blue Eyes by Anna Mocikat<p style="text-align: center;"> Bookspot - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Blue-Eyes-Cyberpunk-Thriller-ebook/dp/B088GSXB88/ref=sr_1_2?crid=3LIJGLEIMEI0E&keywords=behind+blue+eyes+anna+mocikat&qid=1665629843&qu=eyJxc2MiOiIxLjgyIiwicXNhIjoiMi4wNCIsInFzcCI6IjEuODUifQ%3D%3D&sprefix=behind+blue+eyes%2Caps%2C476&sr=8-2" target="_blank">Behind Blue Eyes by Anna Mocikat</a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Since it was released two years ago, this new cyberpunk has been growing in popularity on the undergraound scene. With all the makings of a classic, if you're into the genre, Behind Blue Eyes ticks all the right boxes.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2gh3xv97IOfCQZB2ygy_Mvt8hWsaPoZWCAjx1ZDUGjLg11tYQibhnoxyehrH4gkYfQw1_aIBdTWq04Gf6BScsyiIuyVX5zdPkP_5biSub09nq5DYWsDpsOpdOkQLiljbLNAGL6cwyn9Ysvg-W-DZLzJFyvOpS1-v6hSEv8F0f6jLtESuCMDhamHQ/s500/behind%20blue%20eyes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="335" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2gh3xv97IOfCQZB2ygy_Mvt8hWsaPoZWCAjx1ZDUGjLg11tYQibhnoxyehrH4gkYfQw1_aIBdTWq04Gf6BScsyiIuyVX5zdPkP_5biSub09nq5DYWsDpsOpdOkQLiljbLNAGL6cwyn9Ysvg-W-DZLzJFyvOpS1-v6hSEv8F0f6jLtESuCMDhamHQ/w268-h400/behind%20blue%20eyes.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h4 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 4px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">In a future world ruled by warring mega-corporations, cyborg Nephilim believed she was fighting a righteous cause.</span></h4><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">As a powerful, cybernetically enhanced elite soldier her job is to do all the dirty work for the mega-corporation she belongs to. She and her elite cyborg squad are deployed on the most dangerous missions – to protect Olympias from threats outside and inside at any cost.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">One day, a malfunction in her implants separates her from the all-controlling grid. For the first time in her life, Nephilim is free.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">She learns that everything she has believed in all her life is a lie and decides to defend her newfound freedom.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">But Metatron, the leader of her unit, has very special plans for her future and won’t let her get away.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Soon, Nephilim finds herself hunted by the killer squads she once belonged to. She’s the best of them but will her skills be enough to survive?</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Blade Runner meets John Wick with a badass female lead!</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-43590954774181680142022-09-18T00:54:00.002-07:002022-09-18T00:54:34.189-07:00Art - Eddie Mendoza<p style="text-align: center;">Art - <a href="https://www.artstation.com/eddie" target="_blank">Eddie Mendoza</a> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCpk9SgpPugU5vqKWFrMfZaZxnko_1ZY9RZc-oD1AW263WkXDP9AZ4uyWlQPuoRHZF-2rJUcrM860s6VDtst2Rcd62pyMutCQx1cakt2TWw3X8yNEuBmCSvri0lMJm3VaeVfa8CNHk5xaREx6t7STNljom8B9vbl4xTEI2UNevUBxzuchiLMqVIiw/s1920/2099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="1920" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCpk9SgpPugU5vqKWFrMfZaZxnko_1ZY9RZc-oD1AW263WkXDP9AZ4uyWlQPuoRHZF-2rJUcrM860s6VDtst2Rcd62pyMutCQx1cakt2TWw3X8yNEuBmCSvri0lMJm3VaeVfa8CNHk5xaREx6t7STNljom8B9vbl4xTEI2UNevUBxzuchiLMqVIiw/w400-h224/2099.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">2099</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusSJMWqGlQE2d_l9VMYG5BY6xQzH2AVDGTN_RogKpjoV1A2G3bwByFOlH3GJRFbG8BmgyLficdMJLDlvFULMv25uFL5A3DDa9noN46UrCmoxg_nZvaPlbZsKcraMjGHnqxgrA9Sp-PL4gvegkxu909v_cyA-JOeKjpG0TcyukEBdLhzIANNt7-j2f/s1920/AtlasPlaza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1920" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusSJMWqGlQE2d_l9VMYG5BY6xQzH2AVDGTN_RogKpjoV1A2G3bwByFOlH3GJRFbG8BmgyLficdMJLDlvFULMv25uFL5A3DDa9noN46UrCmoxg_nZvaPlbZsKcraMjGHnqxgrA9Sp-PL4gvegkxu909v_cyA-JOeKjpG0TcyukEBdLhzIANNt7-j2f/w400-h223/AtlasPlaza.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Atlas Plaza</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUrEjSUwCEYG9F0hAEJtUdw-HuVt_4Hdle56RQJMei3Dj61-Ku15mGO7HiXZbCniDII5y7JyHbC9vyTa9LPUTRsjoWRVQptP7EB7caf4x_dXdBUaDIa5qr5lLdK5QekRXvDqgSpkt2Fa4O9-i8Mw-3jqwzXcDJ1oUF609Aoq3DDeU9xLWSHtxlmzW/s1600/Dr.%20Octopus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="1600" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUrEjSUwCEYG9F0hAEJtUdw-HuVt_4Hdle56RQJMei3Dj61-Ku15mGO7HiXZbCniDII5y7JyHbC9vyTa9LPUTRsjoWRVQptP7EB7caf4x_dXdBUaDIa5qr5lLdK5QekRXvDqgSpkt2Fa4O9-i8Mw-3jqwzXcDJ1oUF609Aoq3DDeU9xLWSHtxlmzW/w400-h166/Dr.%20Octopus.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Dr Octopus</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHY-C5-lklEgnE0YLYNsYoGbo-QOigCnujfbEBXfF_K-iWlpjhsByFpgFzEwM24aRbc-mxGw2uDKL4A4OgI6EkHDloto-c1JqY-MzMyLXSLuemWulAE9fH8b4GJGYxBZb8_dof7dFIHrozfYIPVSzUvom5GpkVNY7-97VUcr7wEpVR4q0sUlvFcNi/s1200/Electric%20Dreams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="935" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHY-C5-lklEgnE0YLYNsYoGbo-QOigCnujfbEBXfF_K-iWlpjhsByFpgFzEwM24aRbc-mxGw2uDKL4A4OgI6EkHDloto-c1JqY-MzMyLXSLuemWulAE9fH8b4GJGYxBZb8_dof7dFIHrozfYIPVSzUvom5GpkVNY7-97VUcr7wEpVR4q0sUlvFcNi/w311-h400/Electric%20Dreams.jpg" width="311" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Electric Dreams</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltU8gjuaFKktilnPyh2hqldOxPpEWaMwU8ghGNAAPbM9hgp1TQ2-3L9WxUS5BISmQyffkyMZADCl30m9wXq15mi0e7objjbMV9cHUTV5Hd8h2Z4nFTE7vVn1t-4hSwEts-Ddx4LRPhZT6WrRvDgXtCbHdDH9QIfz6nwafMhE8kriqfMbJOa8eA1z2/s1920/Hydroponix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="1920" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltU8gjuaFKktilnPyh2hqldOxPpEWaMwU8ghGNAAPbM9hgp1TQ2-3L9WxUS5BISmQyffkyMZADCl30m9wXq15mi0e7objjbMV9cHUTV5Hd8h2Z4nFTE7vVn1t-4hSwEts-Ddx4LRPhZT6WrRvDgXtCbHdDH9QIfz6nwafMhE8kriqfMbJOa8eA1z2/w400-h206/Hydroponix.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Hydroponix</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_rzt92yGCWECFobFUaBMInXgjTlOx0kQXPMp_mR-JyW_JxeTQCgGj3941aW8dT5JUVK2xvTpT8e9zQnTbif6VghrSsrVuiyUE8YcnlrybVBMBiOOWPttFO0ST_us0yy7bwPwrUVxzTAc0WTeTvYs35gl-TbaUzl9fmP-UsW5EhGSvvLTIU7baltTM/s1800/Information%20Age.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1800" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_rzt92yGCWECFobFUaBMInXgjTlOx0kQXPMp_mR-JyW_JxeTQCgGj3941aW8dT5JUVK2xvTpT8e9zQnTbif6VghrSsrVuiyUE8YcnlrybVBMBiOOWPttFO0ST_us0yy7bwPwrUVxzTAc0WTeTvYs35gl-TbaUzl9fmP-UsW5EhGSvvLTIU7baltTM/w400-h223/Information%20Age.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Information Age</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;">For more by Eddie Mendoza, check out his artstation page <a href="https://eddie.artstation.com/" target="_blank">here</a></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-90396318463441100402022-09-07T22:51:00.000-07:002022-09-07T22:51:07.702-07:00 The Short History of Dogs by Howard Loring<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKYfD7aBrH1eLJkDZ7l9Y9V7qDfPb_025WH56hicXY9_ixcogyqDrT8LYu9IeaVIfPvnspNCgQ9uOFLJ_Ob2jhsxL-9FWMf1kVd_WDqP_DyQ2OC-F7pIleStWKbauAl2Mm2f7ABUdHrk/s200/Tetraexutoroid.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKYfD7aBrH1eLJkDZ7l9Y9V7qDfPb_025WH56hicXY9_ixcogyqDrT8LYu9IeaVIfPvnspNCgQ9uOFLJ_Ob2jhsxL-9FWMf1kVd_WDqP_DyQ2OC-F7pIleStWKbauAl2Mm2f7ABUdHrk/s0/Tetraexutoroid.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>How It All Started</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">Or</span></span></b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>The Short History of Dogs</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;">by <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Howard-Loring/e/B00JDUTMTS/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_book_1" target="_blank">Howard Loring</a></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
young upright man, in reality still only a boy, had smelled the
cooking meat from quite a distance. It was compelling. The wafting
aroma was mesmerizing, faint at first but unmistakable, growing only
stronger with each tentative step that he took, tearing away at his
empty stomach, forcing him ever forward.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Finding
himself in unfamiliar territory, the youngster was understandably
leery, but also being very hungry he continued through the thick
underbrush with a determined purpose, in an unending quest. He knew
he had to find nourishment or he would die. Then who would tell his
strange story?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He’d
eaten little the day before, too agitated by the gathering to come,
for it was the first such endeavor that he’d ever been permitted to
accompany. Due to his age, before this his never-ending chores of
toting water from the river, or dragging tree limbs for the
ever-present fire had always been in close proximity to his clan’s
current, well-defended enclosure. No excitement there, to be sure.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Of
course, the youth had often longed to join in one these gatherings,
seemingly a hopeless wish, given his tender years. Still, he dreamed
of the day for it was his undeniable path, as it was for each of the
clan’s boys. His time would come.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Then,
on one of his last wood collecting expeditions he’d found a heavy
branch that made for him, with little augmentation, a fine club. All
of the mature upright men had admired this new weapon, hefting and
swinging it, testing its strength and balance. Each had been
impressed by the unexpected discovery.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>His
uncle, headman of the clan, was most pleased, taking the find as an
omen predicting a plentiful gathering. As a consequence, he allowed
his nephew to join the upcoming venture. Sadly, this snap assessment
had proved a mistake.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>All
gatherings were, and always had been unpredictable things, the
outcomes ever in doubt. Still, the clan’s most recent location was
extremely bountiful and of late all such expeditions had indeed been
successful. Each time the upright men had returned from them both
cheerful and fully laden with meat.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
gathering party took to the great river before dawn, paralleling its
meandering path, following the clan’s standard operating procedure.
Several times along the way the uprights noticed promising footprints
of the four legs at the water’s edge, an event that engendered much
excited interest. However, nothing came of them as they petered out
once the ground became firmer inland from the river’s bank, and so
the determined party had returned each time to its previous route.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Gathering
from the four legs was the best possible scenario for they could be
beaten off their kill with little trouble. Often this kill was a
large animal. The four legs were formidable, always hunting in
numbers that employed coordinated attack, and this strategy was
highly effective in bringing almost anything down.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Yet,
if they were attacked with sufficient preparation, successfully
employing the tactics of surprise and overwhelming forces, the four
legs would quickly relent and run off. The gathering party would then
divide their efforts. Some would butcher while the others stood
guard, encircling the kill, protecting the periphery of the grisly
action.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
four legs always took a dim view of this, of course. They never
retreated very far at first, but hung at a distance growling and
snapping at each other in their displeasure over losing their kill.
At some point though, compelled by hunger, they would be off in
search of more game, and often this occurred before the meaty prize
had been hacked into smaller pieces suitable for transport.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Other
hunters in the area, such as the deadly long claws, were not so
obliging. They were to be avoided at all times, for backing down and
running away wasn’t in their fierce nature. No, they attacked to
protect their kill, and they were much larger, highly aggressive and
so more dangerous than the four legs were.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Fortunately,
their deeply resonate growl and loud, piercing cries could be heard
at great distance and usually the ferocious creatures could be given
a wide berth. Of course, this was not always possible and chance
meetings sometimes occurred. When they did, the standard outcome
never favored the upright men.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
long claws had very long teeth, too.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
clan’s ancestors had learned all these hard-earned lessons well,
ages ago in the olden times. They hadn’t been forgotten in the
great interim since. Many well-known and oft repeated stories told of
such horrifying encounters.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>No,
the four legs were clearly the best choice and the clan always
preferred gathering from them, but where were they now?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Late
in the day and far from home, the weary upright men turned a sharp
bend in the river only to find there a large horned one lying dead on
the bank. Nothing seemed to be near it, although it was evident that
the fresh carcass had been fed upon. The group advanced with alacrity
to investigate, but only when they were up on the beast did the
shocking truth become known.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Behind
it, shielded by its very size, rested two sleeping cubs of the
terrifying great one of the forest. This was a most surprising turn
having frightening consequences, for before the upright men could
react, the cubs’ mother broke from the nearby scrub. Very large and
bristling, she was already snarling in anger at this intrusion,
berserk now in her attempt to protect her young ones.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
startled group of gatherers was no match for her massive claws and
great bulk. Several of them were immediately mauled before they could
move away, and more were quickly run down and dispatched as her cubs,
awakened by the unknown sounds, began crying loudly in fear. This
event propelled their mother into a true frenzy, and she viciously
lashed out unhindered by any thought, fueled only by her terrible
rage.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
young upright boy, proudly clutching his fine new club, had been
among the first gatherers to reach the dead horned one. Soon he was
caught with a tremendous, backhanded blow from the giant, swinging
paw of the great one of the forest, who was madly thrashing about
consumed by her impassioned slaughtering. It was as if a tree had
hit him, and he was thrown unceremoniously into the great river.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>This
alone had saved him.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Of
course, the youth couldn’t swim, none of the upright men could. The
always churning and never-ending river was very much viewed as a
mystical thing by the clan, and so they had yet to even learn how to
fish. But the boy, stunned, had nevertheless somehow floated to a
passing log that bore him downstream, and thus away from the horrid
carnage still viciously transpiring on the now overly-bloodied and
gory bank.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>After
some time of desperately clutching about the log, he was rudely
deposited ashore after his transport was beached while traversing a
long bend in the river. The exhausted youngster had pulled himself
further up on the bank and collapsed in a heap. It was then that he
smelled the cooking meat in the distance.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Naturally
the boy was unsure of his location, but that didn’t matter. He had
to eat soon or he would never live to find his way home, if that were
even possible now. He began to move, honing in on the enticing scent
of roasting flesh.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Evening
was near, and approaching swiftly. Soon he wouldn’t be able to
discern anything in the quickly growing gloom. Next, however, he saw
the piercing light of a fire in the distance, shrouded by the
surrounding forest.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
calling aroma was strong now. It turned his empty stomach into knots.
He crept closer taking care to move as quietly as he could, always
forward towards the illumination beyond, which at this point was
enveloped by the deepening darkness.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>At
last he could see the entire scene through the underbrush. A fine
campsite had been laid in a small clearing rimmed by huge boulders. A
giant fire, blazing away, cast flickering shadows against the rocks
and shrubbery around them.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
saw no one about. It seemed the whole area was deserted. He did see
the meat though, sizzling on a spit very near the fire, a huge hunk
dripping tasty fat.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Who
would leave such a treasure unattended?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Instinctively
he reached for his sharpened butchering stone, a most valued object
that everyone carried during a gathering, a highly-prized implement
carefully chiseled with precision to fit the owner’s hand. He found
it missing as was, of course, his fine new club. He should have
realized that the unforgiving waterway had already swallowed both of
his precious tools.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
young upright man next judged himself not only lost and alone, which
he was, but now totally weaponless as well. </span></span>
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Yet
here he was wrong.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>His
finest instrument, possessed by every member of his clan as well as
those scattered about like them, had been minutely honed through time
itself, from the very beginnings of his kind. It was a natural
development unique to the now fully defined species, and no other
living thing possessed it. Nothing came close, not even the
lumbering, flat-headed men in the area who were generally so similar
in other ways to the uprights.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>This
singular, superior weapon, at present being furiously employed to
assess the situation, was his very large human brain.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>This
particular circumstance, however, was difficult to understand. Where
was the owner of the meat, he wondered? And why had they left such an
item unprotected?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Upright
men cooked their food, of course, but they weren’t the only ones to
do so. The flatheads had fire as well, and they, according to the
clan’s ancient lore, were the ones who’d first unlocked its
hidden secrets. And they could be fearsome.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>At
last he could stand it no longer. He broke through the brush and
dashed to the spit, thinking only at first of grabbing the roasting
meat and beating a hasty retreat. Yet, after laying hands on the
greasy haunch, he instead had a much better idea.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
boy sank to his knees and bit into the still sizzling flesh. Nothing
had ever tasted so good to him, and he moaned in delight as the
succulent juices dripped down his face. Despite his earlier
trepidation, he sat by the fire and ate with gusto, unconcerned now
with what might happen next.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>After
savoring several mouthfuls he reconsidered, thinking again of dashing
off with his purloined meal, but he didn’t. He was so exhausted he
found that he couldn’t move, only concentrate on the task at hand.
He reasoned if the food’s owner did return and killed him, well at
least by then he’d die with a full stomach.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>While
munching away, he heard movement in the brush, the sound of someone
approaching. The youngster, still chewing as fast as he could, sat in
place and awaited his fate. At this stage, no other viable option was
left open to him.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>An
upright man then appeared, but unlike any that he’d ever seen
before. He was very tall, as tall as a flathead, but unlike them he
was thin and dressed in a bizarre fashion. He wore no stitched animal
skins but some kind of covering that aside from his hands and face
totally wrapped him, clinging tightly to his body.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Welcome,”
he said, but the boy didn’t respond.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
newcomer then held out his arms, his palms open and pointed toward
the youngster, who had stopped his mastication at the action. After a
few seconds, the strange upright man dropped his hands. Then he
smiled.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Welcome,”
he said again, and this time the interloper replied.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I’m
hungry,” the young boy related, as if that would explain
everything. It did. The upright man smiled again, and then sat on a
large stone at the edge of the firelight.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
know,” he answered. “I cooked it for you. I knew that you’d
make your way here, to this clearing, tonight.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
boy’s eyes opened widely as he considered this. Could it be so?
Then with a shrug he commenced his meal, knowing now that no
immediate danger awaited him.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yet,
after swallowing his latest mouthful, he asked, “How?” </span></span>
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Now
the sitting man considered. He rearranged himself and, crossing his
long legs, he leaned forward. After a bit he answered.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
know much,” he stated as a fact. “I know that today was your
first gathering, and I know the result. This adventure will make for
you a fine story to tell.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>At
this the boy only grunted. How would he ever get back to his clan,
and how would he tell his story if he didn’t? He knew not.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Again
he sunk his teeth into the roast but without frenzy now, in a slower
and more deliberate pace, still thinking.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
stranger spoke no more, for the present only waiting for the boy to
finish his meal. He understood that the youngster’s mind was
racing, trying to comprehend. He was content to sit and let him try.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Soon
enough the upright boy was satiated, his stomach now overly full.
Still chewing his last bite, he stared down at the meat in his hands.
Then he held it out to the stranger, offering the leftovers but the
man shook his head, declining.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Take
it with you, on the morrow,” he said. “Just head back to the
river and follow its bank, but moving against the current this time.
You’ll be home by nightfall.” </span></span>
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
boy nodded. It made sense. He would do so.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Then
he thought of something else.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
of the others?” he asked. Of course, this question referred to the
ambushed gathering party. Here the man, while giving no answer,
answered all by his silence.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
boy sighed, already knowing the truth. He’d reflected on the
horrific episode while clinging to the log in the river. The great
one of the forest was the most fearsome thing known, and the females
were ever tenacious when their cubs were involved.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
thought first of his uncle, and then the others, the best uprights in
his clan, each gone. Who would gather now? How would they ever
survive this horrible loss?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
strange man understood his concerns. He felt sorry for the boy, but
only in a peripheral, disconnected fashion. He had to remain above
the fray, so to speak.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>After
all, time does march on, and always it will have its due.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Other
clans would welcome you,” he said, in a comforting tone. “Your
women and children are a wonderful asset, and greater numbers help
insure the future. You must lead them, your clan, to another clan,
and so save them.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
young upright was rendered speechless by this bold suggestion. How
could he lead them, or what was left of them? He was just a boy,
lost and helpless.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
now have a powerful story,” instructed the man, “for there’s a
grander purpose behind it. It has meaning beyond the event itself, a
lesson to be learned. So they will listen and agree with your
assessment, why wouldn’t they?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
purpose?” asked the incredulous youth, who certainly saw none. The
whole thing was senseless as far as he could judge, the gathering
nothing but a colossal failure. He boldly looked the man in the face,
awaiting an answer.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
must change the way you gather meat,” calmly said the stranger, as
if it were only a foregone conclusion. “Another way must be found.
A better way.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>A
moment went by, the boy deep in thought.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">How?”
he asked for a second time.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
strange man then slowly stood and, after holding out his hands in
reassurance, he stepped over and sat closer to the boy.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Why
do you always chase the four legs away?” he quietly asked. “They
are the ones that find your meat, after all. Do you not have to go
out and waste your time locating them all over again, when the next
gathering is needed?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Now
the youngster was really confused. How could you not chase them away?
The hard-earned carcass was their prize and they didn’t give it up
freely, without some sort of altercation.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
began to answer as such, but the man cut him off by continuing, “Why
not instead give them some of the kill? It’s easily done for they
never run far, and you know this to be true. You could just throw
them some of the meat.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Why?”
blurted the boy. “It’s our food then. Why give it away?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Again,
the stranger smiled, understanding the boy’s perplexed state.
Change once made could take hold quickly, but embracing this choice
often required great amounts of time to accomplish. Yet, small steps
were still forward progress.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
if you gave them some they would stick close by,” he explained,
“and they’d gladly follow you home if you fed them along the way.
Then you wouldn’t have to find them when the meat was gone. Once
you stop feeding them they’d just go off in search of more, yet you
could then follow them, is this not so?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
they are killers,” said the boy, now the one trying to explain.
How, he marveled, could such an absurd thing even be contemplated?
This was not the established way.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
do they kill,” asked the man, “after they’re chased off? Do
they attack you as you butcher the carcass, as the long claws would?
No, they just get angry and then move on.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
boy shook his head. This was too much. It was unheard of.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">That’s
never done,” he stated flatly, as if it closed the subject.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Again,
the stranger paused. Another approach was needed now, that much was
evident. He held one in reserve, of course.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
leaned in some and quietly asked, “How did the upright men first
come by fire, I wonder? There was a distant age, long ago, when you
had none, is this not true? Many stories from the olden times say as
much, do they not?”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
boy had to admit that this was so. Everyone knew that the uprights
had stolen fire from the flatheads, for they were the only ones who
knew how to make it. As such, keeping the fire lit was always a prime
concern for the clan.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Sometimes
it did go out, of course, a big problem. Other clans had to share
then, but they only did so after some price had been paid. Finding
fire in the forest was always possible, it had happened before, but
it wasn’t very likely and the more prudent course was to make sure
that it never died in the first place.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>But
the boy, young as he was, had made this vital connection. Things
change. Even the oldest of established ways must have been new once,
he currently saw.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Yes,
now he understood that change was very real, and perhaps inevitable.
The day’s bizarre events had proved as much. And he certainly
didn’t wish to repeat that particular change if he could help it,
not if it could be avoided, that is.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>So,
he mused after reflection, “Perhaps this would be better.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Then
the young boy causally made another, most crucial connection. It was
one that went beyond the moment at hand, critical as it turned out,
to the very future of his entire species. And this simple train of
thought would soon beget profound historic ramifications, for the
conception easily defined by example the most important, pertinent
tenant of humanity itself.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,”
he said at last, “I guess I’ll never know unless I try.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>It
turned out that he did try, and he succeeded, too. Once his
decimated clan had effectively joined with another, the novel
procedure was instigated and it proved most advantageous. The four
legs indeed followed the gathering uprights home, and they hung close
by until the meat was gone, as predicted.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Gatherings
then became hugely profitable. After the clan took to the forest,
almost at once the four legs would find a scent and, with little
trouble they would then run some prey aground. Abundant meat was
thus found every day.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>There
were also other benefits to the new arrangement.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
four legs were wonderful sentries. Nothing in the night could creep
up on them or, by extension, the clan. They still kept their
distance, but the animals inherently understood the advantages too,
and they protected them. Living near the upright men supplied a safe
environment in which to raise their young. True, their kill was
taken from them, but the meat they were always given was enough, and
this was their main concern. They stayed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>There
were only five of them at first, a small pack consisting of an alpha
couple and three juveniles, two males and one female. Soon enough
more pups followed. This event was viewed as a good omen by the
clan, and it was.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Then,
after several seasons had passed, the four legs one night raised a
cry in the dark. The hair-raising shrieks of the long claws were soon
heard in the distance. A loud altercation then ensued, very brief but
brutal, then all was quiet.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
next morning the boy, who was now a strapping teenager, found at some
distance a dead four legs, lacerated by the long claws. Her pack was
nowhere to be seen, having run off in angry pursuit in order to
harass the retreating perpetrator. The boy was unconcerned by this as
they often ran off and, he knew from experience that they would soon
return, demanding more meat.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>It
was then that he discovered the pups, newly orphaned and whimpering
in the grass. They were young, hardly weaned, and almost without
thinking he took them inside the clan’s fortified enclosure. They
became instant celebrities.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Again
they were five, four brothers and a sister. They snapped and growled
much, but due to their tiny size they posed no real problems. That
soon changed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
two largest males, angling for dominance, became a danger because
they consistently wished to demonstrate their fierceness. Within
weeks the boy, again without a thought, clubbed them both. That left
two males and the female.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>These
pups grew and in time joined the pack outside the upright’s base.
While not really tame, at a distance they interacted much more with
the clan, and were even permitted entry into their enclosure if they
wished. They were easily tolerated there, if not provoked by being
approached too closely or quickly.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Once
the young female bore pups, being proud, she brought them in for
inspection, and they became instant celebrities, too. </span></span>
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Again
the boy, now a man in earnest, clubbed the most vicious babies, and
the offspring of the tamer survivors were more tolerant still. This
now, entrenched protocol continued unabated. By the fifth generation,
taking less than ten full seasons, the newest born pups, while
hunting every day in the forest, stayed every night within the
enclosure, content if still irascible at times.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
boy, currently a fully mature man, realized they now preferred the
company of the uprights to their wilder kin, still ensconced at the
encampment’s edge.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Ten
more seasons came and went. The boy, having lived nearly thirty
years, was now an old man. He had many good dogs by then, and they
all loved him.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>One
day he sat on the great river’s broad bank. The scene was idyllic,
shaded with the air neither hot nor cold, but he was thinking of
another instance along the water’s edge. That particular time, he
recalled, had not been so pleasant.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
was remembering the day it had all started.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Then
he heard someone approaching and the strange, upright man appeared,
stepping from the brush. He looked exactly the same, as if the
passing seasons had no hold on him. They didn’t, of course, for he
was a time traveler.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,
my friend,” the man said to the one who was once only a lost and
hungry boy, “you have done much good work. I knew that you would.
Does it please you?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
old one, pausing to consider, reached over and scratched the ear of
his nearest companion, which wagged its tail in response to the
tender action. Then the upright realized that none of his dogs,
before ever vigilant, had reacted in the least to the stranger’s
advance. Yet upon short reflection, given the context, the upright
man knew this wasn’t a surprising circumstance.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
am content,” he announced at last, “for the clan has much meat.
And I’m amazed that the dogs now love and protect us. So yes, I’m
very pleased that a change was made, and that it was you who found me
in the forest so long ago.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>This
sentiment caused the time traveler to laugh aloud. He sat near to the
upright, as he had done the last time. Then he caressed the dog
stretched prone between them.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Again
the animal wagged its tail, thumping slowly this time.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
you were the one who found me,” the tall man pointed out. “You
could have given up in the river, or at its bank. Yet you didn’t
relent, only bravely pushed on.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
old man hunched his shoulders, replying, “I was hungry.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>They
both enjoyed this banter, each chuckling some.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>After
a time the old man asked, “What will happen now?”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">More
change,” was the time traveler’s answer. “It is always so. It
will always be so, forever.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
old man nodded, knowing it was true.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
how?” he probed, wishing clarification. “What new changes come?
What will happen next?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
stranger leaned in, again as he had done at their last encounter, and
after a bit he answered with, “The upright man is a strong animal,
and he thinks. Now he can hunt, not just gather. So, he can provide
for, and protect himself well.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
old one nodded.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><a name="_GoBack"></a>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
when an upright man takes himself a family,” came next, “he will
always protect them, too.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
old one nodded again, adding, “Yes.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
families of his kin are also his family,” the stranger next
explained, “for they are related, and when many such families join
they become a clan, as yours did. Each member of this clan is now
also his kin, for they are all connected in some way. So a man will
protect his clan as well as his own, for they are the same.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yes,”
the old one said once more.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Now,”
the man said, “you have dogs in your family, and they will protect
you too, for they are a true part of your clan, as well. Because of
them, your clan will become much stronger. Other clans will do this
also, and then all clans will grow stronger.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
see it,” nodded the old one, but next he saw something else. It was
another correlation. He didn’t like its portent, but still he
understood it well enough.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">They
will squabble with each other for the best meat,” he predicted.
“They will fight over the finer ground that has it. And soon they
will club each other to acquire it, in order to provide for, and so
protect their family.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yes,”
the stranger concurred, but then he added, “Yet, at some point
certain clans will join together, forming a tribe, and things become
very different then.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
upright man was surprised by this assertion.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">These
new tribes, they will not fight each other?” he asked.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No,
they will fight,” was the answer, “that’s not my meaning. I
mean that tribes fight for a different reason, a new reason. Tribe
members will do battle for those not related to them, for in tribes
there are many that aren’t connected by family ties.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>This
new concept once more took the old one aback. Who would fight for
those who weren’t related? Then he thought of his beloved dogs, so
different from the upright men and he understood, again making the
proper connection.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Next,
once seeing the consequences, the old man expanded upon them. Yes, he
easily sensed the broader implications involved. His very large
human brain, ancient by current standards still worked, and it worked
very well.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Such
new tribes, after growing ever stronger, will then band together?”
he asked of the stranger.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">In
the far future, yes,” was the answer. “Tribes become states, and
states become mighty nations. The strongest of these nations will
grow further still, becoming vast empires.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
old man was amazed by this insightful declaration. It was a great
vision, no doubting that. He was humbled.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
stranger slowly stood, and added, “All because of the dogs, my
friend. It will happen because you made this vital connection and
took them in. Everything now changes because you tried something
different by thinking in a new and unexpected way.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
astounded upright sighed after this lofty pronouncement. He turned
to look at the time traveler before him. Again he hunched his
shoulders, adding a wistful smile.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
was hungry,” he reiterated, as if that explained everything.</span></span></b></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 16.64px; margin-bottom: 0.01cm; margin-left: -0.03cm; margin-right: 0.17cm;">
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>It
did, and the tall stranger then walked away for the last time.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 17.28px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0.64cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><br /></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 17.28px; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0.64cm; margin-right: 0cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><br /></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 16.48px; margin-bottom: 0.01cm; text-indent: 0cm;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span face="Amazon Ember, Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">HOWARD LORING creates EPIC FABLES on the ELASTIC LIMIT of TIME.</span></span></span></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 16.48px; margin-bottom: 0.01cm;">These exciting time travel books encompass universal human themes,</p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 16.48px; margin-bottom: 0.01cm;">often employing real history.</p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 16.48px; margin-bottom: 0.01cm;"><br /><br /></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 16.48px; margin-bottom: 0.01cm;">For more information you can check out his amazon page <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Howard-Loring/e/B00JDUTMTS/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_book_1" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #3333ff;">.</span></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 16.48px; margin-bottom: 0.01cm; text-align: right;">And his website <a href="https://www.howardloring.com/" target="_blank">here</a> </p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-62016797744111547542022-09-04T00:35:00.001-07:002022-09-04T00:35:23.470-07:00The Hunted Heroes by Robert Silverberg<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>The Hunted Heroes</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by Robert Silverberg</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>"Let's
keep moving," I told Val. "The surest way to die out here
on Mars is to give up." I reached over and turned up the
pressure on her oxymask to make things a little easier for her.
Through the glassite of the mask, I could see her face contorted in
an agony of fatigue.</b></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>And
she probably thought the failure of the sandcat was all my fault,
too. Val's usually about the best wife a guy could ask for, but when
she wants to be she can be a real flying bother.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It
was beyond her to see that some grease monkey back at the Dome was at
fault – whoever it was who had failed to fasten down the engine
hood. Nothing but what had stopped us _could_ stop a sandcat: sand in
the delicate mechanism of the atomic engine.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>But
no; she blamed it all on me somehow: So we were out walking on the
spongy sand of the Martian desert. We'd been walking a good eight
hours.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Can't
we turn back now, Ron?" Val pleaded. "Maybe there isn't any
uranium in this sector at all. I think we're crazy to keep on
searching out here!"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
started to tell her that the UranCo chief had assured me we'd hit
something out this way, but changed my mind. When Val's tired and
overwrought there's no sense in arguing with her.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
stared ahead at the bleak, desolate wastes of the Martian landscape.
Behind us somewhere was the comfort of the Dome, ahead nothing but
the mazes and gullies of this dead world.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Try
to keep going, Val." My gloved hand reached out and clumsily
enfolded hers. "Come on, kid. Remember – we're doing this for
Earth. We're heroes."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>She
glared at me. "Heroes, hell!" she muttered. "That's
the way it looked back home, but, out there it doesn't seem so
glorious. And UranCo's pay is stinking."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"We
didn't come out here for the pay, Val."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
know, I know, but just the same –"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It
must have been hell for her. We had wandered fruitlessly over the red
sands all day, both of us listening for the clicks of the counter.
And the geigers had been obstinately hushed all day, except for their
constant undercurrent of meaningless noises.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Even
though the Martian gravity was only a fraction of Earth's, I was
starting to tire, and I knew it must have been really rough on Val
with her lovely but unrugged legs.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Heroes,"
she said bitterly. "We're not heroes--we're suckers! Why did I
ever let you volunteer for the Geig Corps and drag me along?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Which
wasn't anywhere close to the truth. Now I knew she was at the
breaking point, because Val didn't lie unless she was so exhausted
she didn't know what she was doing. She had been just as much
inflamed by the idea of coming to Mars to help in the search for
uranium as I was. We knew the pay was poor, but we had felt it a sort
of obligation, something we could do as individuals to keep the
industries of radioactives-starved Earth going. And we'd always had a
roving foot, both of us.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>No,
we had decided together to come to Mars – the way we decided
together on everything. Now she was turning against me.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
tried to jolly her. "Buck up, kid," I said. I didn't dare
turn up her oxy pressure any higher, but it was obvious she couldn't
keep going. She was almost sleep-walking now.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>We
pressed on over the barren terrain. The geiger kept up a fairly
steady click-pattern, but never broke into that sudden explosive
tumult that meant we had found pay-dirt. I started to feel tired
myself, terribly tired. I longed to lie down on the soft, spongy
Martian sand and bury myself.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
looked at Val. She was dragging along with her eyes half-shut. I felt
almost guilty for having dragged her out to Mars, until I recalled
that I hadn't. In fact, she had come up with the idea before I did. I
wished there was some way of turning the weary, bedraggled girl at my
side back into the Val who had so enthusiastically suggested we join
the Geigs.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Twelve
steps later, I decided this was about as far as we could go.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
stopped, slipped out of the geiger harness, and lowered myself
ponderously to the ground. "What'samatter, Ron?" Val asked
sleepily. "Something wrong?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"No,
baby," I said, putting out a hand and taking hers. "I think
we ought to rest a little before we go any further. It's been a long,
hard day."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It
didn't take much to persuade her. She slid down beside me, curled up,
and in a moment she was fast asleep, sprawled out on the sands.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Poor
kid</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">,
I thought. Maybe we shouldn't have come to Mars after all. But, I
reminded myself, </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>someone</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
had to do the job.</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>A
second thought appeared, but I squelched it:</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Why
the hell me?</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
looked down at Valerie's sleeping form, and thought of our warm,
comfortable little home on Earth. It wasn't much, but people in love
don't need very fancy surroundings.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
watched her, sleeping peacefully, a wayward lock of her soft blonde
hair trailing down over one eyebrow, and it seemed hard to believe
that we'd exchanged Earth and all it held for us for the raw, untamed
struggle that was Mars. But I knew I'd do it again, if I had the
chance. It's because we wanted to keep what we had. Heroes? Hell, no.
We just liked our comforts, and wanted to keep them. Which took a
little work.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Time
to get moving.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
But then Val stirred and rolled over in her sleep, and I didn't have
the heart to wake her. I sat there, holding her, staring out over the
desert, watching the wind whip the sand up into weird shapes.</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The
Geig Corps preferred married couples, working in teams. That's what
had finally decided it for us – we were a good team. We had no ties
on Earth that couldn't be broken without much difficulty. So we
volunteered.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>And
here we are.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
Heroes. The wind blasted a mass of sand into my face, and I felt it
tinkle against the oxymask.</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
glanced at the suit-chronometer. Getting late. I decided once again
to wake Val. But she was tired. And I was tired too, tired from our
wearying journey across the empty desert.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
started to shake Val. But I never finished. It would be </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>so</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
nice just to lean back and nuzzle up to her, down in the sand. So
nice. I yawned, and stretched back.</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
awoke with a sudden startled shiver, and realized angrily I had let
myself doze off. "Come on, Val," I said savagely, and
started to rise to my feet.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
couldn't.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
looked down. I was neatly bound in thin, tough, plastic tangle-cord,
swathed from chin to boot-bottoms, my arms imprisoned, my feet
caught. And tangle-cord is about as easy to get out of as a spider's
web is for a trapped fly.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It
wasn't Martians that had done it. There weren't any Martians, hadn't
been for a million years. It was some Earthman who had bound us.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
rolled my eyes toward Val, and saw that she was similarly trussed in
the sticky stuff. The tangle-cord was still fresh, giving off a
faint, repugnant odor like that of drying fish. It had been spun on
us only a short time ago, I realized.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Ron
–"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Don't
try to move, baby. This stuff can break your neck if you twist it
wrong." She continued for a moment to struggle futilely, and I
had to snap, "Lie still, Val!"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"A
very wise statement," said a brittle, harsh voice from above me.
I looked up and saw a helmeted figure above us. He wasn't wearing the
customary skin-tight pliable oxysuits we had. He wore an outmoded,
bulky spacesuit and a fishbowl helmet, all but the face area opaque.
The oxygen cannisters weren't attached to his back as expected,
though. They were strapped to the back of the wheelchair in which he
sat.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Through
the fishbowl I could see hard little eyes, a yellowed, parchment-like
face, a grim-set jaw. I didn't recognize him, and this struck me odd.
I thought I knew everyone on sparsely-settled Mars. Somehow I'd
missed him.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>What
shocked me most was that he had no legs. The spacesuit ended neatly
at the thighs.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>He
was holding in his left hand the tanglegun with which he had
entrapped us, and a very efficient-looking blaster was in his right.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
didn't want to disturb your sleep," he said coldly. "So
I've been waiting here for you to wake up."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
could just see it. He might have been sitting there for hours,
complacently waiting to see how we'd wake up. That was when I
realized he must be totally insane. I could feel my stomach-muscles
tighten, my throat constrict painfully.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Then
anger ripped through me, washing away the terror. "What's going
on?" I demanded, staring at the half of a man who confronted us
from the wheelchair. "Who are you?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"You'll
find out soon enough," he said. "Suppose now you come with
me." He reached for the tanglegun, flipped the little switch on
its side to MELT, and shot a stream of watery fluid over our legs,
keeping the blaster trained on us all the while. Our legs were free.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"You
may get up now," he said. "Slowly, without trying to make
trouble." Val and I helped each other to our feet as best we
could, considering our arms were still tightly bound against the
sides of our oxysuits.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Walk,"
the stranger said, waving the tanglegun to indicate the direction.
"I'll be right behind you." He holstered the tanglegun.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
glimpsed the bulk of an outboard atomic rigging behind him, strapped
to the back of the wheelchair. He fingered a knob on the arm of the
chair and the two exhaust ducts behind the wheel-housings flamed for
a moment, and the chair began to roll.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Obediently,
we started walking. You don't argue with a blaster, even if the man
pointing it is in a wheelchair.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"What's
going on, Ron?" Val asked in a low voice as we walked. Behind us
the wheelchair hissed steadily.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
don't quite know, Val. I've never seen this guy before, and I thought
I knew everyone at the Dome."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Quiet
up there!" our captor called, and we stopped talking. We trudged
along together, with him following behind; I could hear the
</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>crunch-crunch</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
of the wheelchair as its wheels chewed into the sand. I wondered
where we were going, and why. I wondered why we had ever left Earth.</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The
answer to that came to me quick enough: we had to. Earth needed
radioactives, and the only way to get them was to get out and look.
The great atomic wars of the late 20th Century had used up much of
the supply, but the amount used to blow up half the great cities of
the world hardly compared with the amount we needed to put them back
together again.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>In
three centuries the shattered world had been completely rebuilt. The
wreckage of New York and Shanghai and London and all the other ruined
cities had been hidden by a shining new world of gleaming towers and
flying roadways. We had profited by our grandparents' mistakes. They
had used their atomics to make bombs. We used ours for fuel.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It
was an atomic world. Everything: power drills, printing presses,
typewriters, can openers, ocean liners, powered by the inexhaustible
energy of the dividing atom.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>But
though the energy is inexhaustible, the supply of nuclei isn't.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>After
three centuries of heavy consumption, the supply failed. The mighty
machine that was Earth's industry had started to slow down.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>And
that started the chain of events that led Val and me to end up as a
madman's prisoners, on Mars. With every source of uranium mined dry
on Earth, we had tried other possibilities. All sorts of schemes came
forth. Project Sea-Dredge was trying to get uranium from the oceans.
In forty or fifty years, they'd get some results, we hoped. But there
wasn't forty or fifty years' worth of raw stuff to tide us over until
then. In a decade or so, our power would be just about gone. I could
picture the sort of dog-eat-dog world we'd revert back to. Millions
of starving, freezing humans tooth-and-clawing in it in the useless
shell of a great atomic civilization.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>So,
Mars. There's not much uranium on Mars, and it's not easy to find or
any cinch to mine. But what little is there, helps. It's a stopgap
effort, just to keep things moving until Project Sea-Dredge starts
functioning.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Enter
the Geig Corps: volunteers out on the face of Mars, combing for its
uranium deposits.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>And
here we are, I thought.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>After
we walked on a while, a Dome became visible up ahead. It slid up over
the crest of a hill, set back between two hummocks on the desert.
Just out of the way enough to escape observation.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>For
a puzzled moment I thought it was our Dome, the settlement where all
of UranCo's Geig Corps were located, but another look told me that
this was actually quite near us and fairly small. A one-man Dome, of
all things!</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Welcome
to my home," he said. "The name is Gregory Ledman." He
herded us off to one side of the airlock, uttered a few words keyed
to his voice, and motioned us inside when the door slid up. When we
were inside he reached up, clumsily holding the blaster, and
unscrewed the ancient spacesuit fishbowl.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>His
face was a bitter, dried-up mask. He was a man who hated.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The
place was spartanly furnished. No chairs, no tape-player, no
decoration of any sort. Hard bulkhead walls, rivet-studded, glared
back at us. He had an automatic chef, a bed, and a writing-desk, and
no other furniture.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Suddenly
he drew the tanglegun and sprayed our legs again. We toppled heavily
to the floor. I looked up angrily.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
imagine you want to know the whole story," he said. "The
others did, too."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Valerie
looked at me anxiously. Her pretty face was a dead white behind her
oxymask. "What others?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
never bothered to find out their names," Ledman said casually.
"They were other Geigs I caught unawares, like you, out on the
desert. That's the only sport I have left – Geig-hunting. Look out
there."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>He
gestured through the translucent skin of the Dome, and I felt sick.
There was a little heap of bones lying there, looking oddly bright
against the redness of the sands. They were the dried, parched
skeletons of Earthmen. Bits of cloth and plastic, once oxymasks and
suits, still clung to them.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Suddenly
I remembered. There had been a pattern there all the time. We didn't
much talk about it; we chalked it off as occupational hazards. There
had been a pattern of disappearances on the desert. I could think of
six, eight names now. None of them had been particularly close
friends. You don't get time to make close friends out here. But we'd
vowed it wouldn't happen to us.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It
had.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"You've
been hunting Geigs?" I asked. "</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Why?</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
What've they ever done to you?"</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>He
smiled, as calmly as if I'd just praised his house-keeping. "Because
I hate you," he said blandly. "I intend to wipe every last
one of you out, one by one."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
stared at him. I'd never seen a man like this before; I thought all
his kind had died at the time of the atomic wars.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
heard Val sob, "He's a madman!"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"No,"
Ledman said evenly. "I'm quite sane, believe me. But I'm
determined to drive the Geigs--and UranCo--off Mars. Eventually I'll
scare you all away."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Just
pick us off in the desert?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Exactly,"
replied Ledman. "And I have no fears of an armed attack. This
place is well fortified. I've devoted years to building it. And I'm
back against those hills. They couldn't pry me out." He let his
pale hand run up into his gnarled hair. "I've devoted years to
this. Ever since – ever since I landed here on Mars."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"What
are you going to do with us?" Val finally asked, after a long
silence.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>He
didn't smile this time. "Kill you," he told her. "Not
your husband. I want him as an envoy, to go back and tell the others
to clear off." He rocked back and forth in his wheelchair,
toying with the gleaming, deadly blaster in his hand.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>We
stared in horror. It was a nightmare – sitting there, placidly
rocking back and forth, a nightmare.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
found myself fervently wishing I was back out there on the infinitely
safer desert.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Do
I shock you?" he asked. "I shouldn't--not when you see my
motives."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"We
don't see them," I snapped.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Well,
let me show you. You're on Mars hunting uranium, right? To mine and
ship the radioactives back to Earth to keep the atomic engines going.
Right?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
nodded over at our geiger counters.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"We
volunteered to come to Mars," Val said irrelevantly.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Ah
– two young heroes," Ledman said acidly. "How sad. I
could almost feel sorry for you. Almost."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Just
what is it you're after?" I said, stalling, stalling.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Atomics
cost me my legs," he said. "You remember the Sadlerville
Blast?" he asked.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Of
course." And I did, too. I'd never forget it. No one would. How
could I forget that great accident--killing hundreds, injuring
thousands more, sterilizing forty miles of Mississippi land--when the
Sadlerville pile went up?</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
was there on business at the time," Ledman said. "I
represented Ledman Atomics. I was there to sign a new contract for my
company. You know who I am, now?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
nodded.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
was fairly well shielded when it happened. I never got the contract,
but I got a good dose of radiation instead. Not enough to kill me,"
he said. "Just enough to necessitate the removal of –" he
indicated the empty space at his thighs. "So I got off lightly."
He gestured at the wheelchair blanket.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
still didn't understand. "But why kill us Geigs? </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
had nothing to do with it."</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"You're
just in this by accident," he said. "You see, after the
explosion and the amputation, my fellow-members on the board of
Ledman Atomics decided that a semi-basket case like myself was a poor
risk as Head of the Board, and they took my company away. All quite
legal, I assure you. They left me almost a pauper!" Then he
snapped the punchline at me.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"They
renamed Ledman Atomics. Who did you say you worked for?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
began, "Uran–"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Don't
bother. A more inventive title than Ledman Atomics, but not quite as
much heart, wouldn't you say?" He grinned. "I saved for
years; then I came to Mars, lost myself, built this Dome, and swore
to get even. There's not a great deal of uranium on this planet, but
enough to keep me in a style to which, unfortunately, I'm no longer
accustomed."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>He
consulted his wrist watch. "Time for my injection." He
pulled out the tanglegun and sprayed us again, just to make doubly
certain. "That's another little souvenir of Sadlerville. I'm
short on red blood corpuscles."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>He
rolled over to a wall table and fumbled in a container among a pile
of hypodermics. "There are other injections, too. Adrenalin,
insulin. Others. The Blast turned me into a walking pin-cushion. But
I'll pay it all back," he said. He plunged the needle into his
arm.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>My
eyes widened. It was too nightmarish to be real. I wasn't seriously
worried about his threat to wipe out the entire Geig Corps, since it
was unlikely that one man in a wheelchair could pick us all off. No,
it wasn't the threat that disturbed me, so much as the whole concept,
so strange to me, that the human mind could be as warped and twisted
as Ledman's.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
saw the horror on Val's face, and I knew she felt the same way I did.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Do
you really think you can succeed?" I taunted him. "Really
think you can kill every Earthman on Mars? Of all the insane,
cockeyed –"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Val's
quick, worried head-shake cut me off. But Ledman had felt my words,
all right.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Yes!
I'll get even with every one of you for taking away my legs! If we
hadn't meddled with the atom in the first place, I'd be as tall and
powerful as you, today – instead of a useless cripple in a
wheelchair."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"You're
sick, Gregory Ledman," Val said quietly. "You've conceived
an impossible scheme of revenge and now you're taking it out on
innocent people who've done nothing, nothing at all to you. That's
not sane!"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>His
eyes blazed. "Who are you to talk of sanity?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Uneasily
I caught Val's glance from a corner of my eye. Sweat was rolling down
her smooth forehead faster than the auto-wiper could swab it away.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Why
don't you do something? What are you waiting for, Ron?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Easy,
baby," I said. I knew what our ace in the hole was. But I had to
get Ledman within reach of me first.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Enough,"
he said. "I'm going to turn you loose outside, right after –"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Get
sick!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"
I hissed to Val, low. She began immediately to cough violently,
emitting harsh, choking sobs. "Can't breathe!" She began to
yell, writhing in her bonds.</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>That
did it. Ledman hadn't much humanity left in him, but there was a
little. He lowered the blaster a bit and wheeled one-hand over to see
what was wrong with Val. She continued to retch and moan most
horribly. It almost convinced me. I saw Val's pale, frightened face
turn to me.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>He
approached and peered down at her. He opened his mouth to say
something, and at that moment I snapped my leg up hard, tearing the
tangle-cord with a snicking rasp, and kicked his wheelchair over.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The
blaster went off, burning a hole through the Dome roof. The automatic
sealers glued-in instantly. Ledman went sprawling helplessly out into
the middle of the floor, the wheelchair upended next to him, its
wheels slowly revolving in the air. The blaster flew from his hands
at the impact of landing and spun out near me. In one quick motion I
rolled over and covered it with my body.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Ledman
clawed his way to me with tremendous effort and tried wildly to pry
the blaster out from under me, but without success. I twisted a bit,
reached out with my free leg, and booted him across the floor. He
fetched up against the wall of the Dome and lay there.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Val
rolled over to me.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Now
if I could get free of this stuff," I said, "I could get
him covered before he comes to. But how?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Teamwork,"
Val said. She swivelled around on the floor until her head was near
my boot. "Push my oxymask off with your foot, if you can."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
searched for the clamp and tried to flip it. No luck, with my heavy,
clumsy boot. I tried again, and this time it snapped open. I got the
tip of my boot in and pried upward. The oxymask came off, slowly,
scraping a jagged red scratch up the side of Val's neck as it came.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"There,"
she breathed. "That's that."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
looked uneasily at Ledman. He was groaning and beginning to stir.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Val
rolled on the floor and her face lay near my right arm. I saw what
she had in mind. She began to nibble the vile-tasting tangle-cord,
running her teeth up and down it until it started to give. She
continued unfailingly.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Finally
one strand snapped. Then another. At last I had enough use of my hand
to reach out and grasp the blaster. Then I pulled myself across the
floor to Ledman, removed the tanglegun, and melted the remaining
tangle-cord off.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>My
muscles were stiff and bunched, and rising made me wince. I turned
and freed Val. Then I turned and faced Ledman.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
suppose you'll kill me now," he said.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"No.
That's the difference between sane people and insane," I told
him. "I'm not going to kill you at all. I'm going to see to it
that you're sent back to Earth."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>No!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"
he shouted. "No! Anything but back there. I don't want to face
them again – not after what they did to me –"</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Not
so loud," I broke in. "They'll help you on Earth. They'll
take all the hatred and sickness out of you, and turn you into a
useful member of society again."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
hate Earthmen," he spat out. "I hate all of them."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"I
know," I said sarcastically. "You're just all full of hate.
You hated us so much that you couldn't bear to hang around on Earth
for as much as a year after the Sadlerville Blast. You had to take
right off for Mars without a moment's delay, didn't you? You hated
Earth so much you </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>had
</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">to
leave."</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Why
are you telling all this to me?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Because
if you'd stayed long enough, you'd have used some of your pension
money to buy yourself a pair of prosthetic legs, and then you
wouldn't need this wheelchair."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Ledman
scowled, and then his face went belligerent again. "They told me
I was paralyzed below the waist. That I'd never walk again, even with
prosthetic legs, because I had no muscles to fit them to."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"You
left Earth too quickly," Val said.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"It
was the only way," he protested. "I had to get off –"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"She's
right," I told him. "The atom can take away, but it can
give as well. Soon after you left they developed </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>atomic-powered</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
prosthetics – amazing things, virtually robot legs. All the
survivors of the Sadlerville Blast were given the necessary
replacement limbs free of charge. All except you. You were so sick
you had to get away from the world you despised and come here."</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"You're
lying," he said. "It's not true!"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Oh,
but it is," Val smiled.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
saw him wilt visibly, and for a moment I almost felt sorry for him, a
pathetic legless figure propped up against the wall of the Dome at
blaster-point. But then I remembered he'd killed twelve Geigs – or
more – and would have added Val to the number had he had the
chance.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"You're
a very sick man, Ledman," I said. "All this time you could
have been happy, useful on Earth, instead of being holed up here
nursing your hatred. You might have been useful, on Earth. But you
decided to channel everything out as revenge."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"I
still don't believe it – those legs. I might have walked again. No
– no, it's all a lie. They told me I'd never walk," he said,
weakly but stubbornly still.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
could see his whole structure of hate starting to topple, and</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>decided
to give it the final push.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Haven't
you wondered how I managed to break the tangle-cord when I kicked you
over?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Yes
– human legs aren't strong enough to break tangle-cord that way."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Of
course not," I said. I gave Val the blaster and slipped out of
my oxysuit. "Look," I said. I pointed to my smooth,
gleaming metal legs. The almost soundless purr of their motors was
the only noise in the room. "I was in the Sadlerville Blast,
too," I said. "But I didn't go crazy with hate when I lost
</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>my</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
legs."</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Ledman
was sobbing.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Okay,
Ledman," I said. Val got him into his suit, and brought him the
fishbowl helmet. "Get your helmet on and let's go. Between the
psychs and the prosthetics men, you'll be a new man inside of a
year."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"But
I'm a murderer!"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"That's
right. And you'll be sentenced to psych adjustment. When they're
finished, Gregory Ledman the killer will be as dead as if they'd
electrocuted you, but there'll be a new--and sane--Gregory Ledman."
I turned to Val.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Got
the geigers, honey?"</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>For
the first time since Ledman had caught us, I remembered how tired Val
had been out on the desert. I realized now that I had been driving
her mercilessly – me, with my chromium legs and atomic-powered
muscles. No wonder she was ready to fold! And I'd been too dense to
see how unfair I had been.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>She
lifted the geiger harnesses, and I put Ledman back in his wheelchair.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Val
slipped her oxymask back on and fastened it shut.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Let's
get back to the Dome in a hurry," I said. "We'll turn
Ledman over to the authorities. Then we can catch the next ship for
Earth."</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Go
back? </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Go
back?</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
If you think I'm backing down now and quitting you can find yourself
another wife! After we dump this guy I'm sacking in for twenty hours,
and then we're going back out there to finish that search-pattern.
Earth needs uranium, honey, and I know you'd never be happy quitting
in the middle like that." She smiled. "I can't wait to get
out there and start listening for those tell-tale clicks."</span></span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
gave a joyful whoop and swung her around. When I put her down, she
squeezed my hand, hard.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Let's
get moving, fellow hero," she said.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I
pressed the stud for the airlock, smiling.</b></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p>
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<p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Robert Silverberg is one of the masters of sci-fi. If you are unfamiliar with his work, check out the amazon page <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Robert-Silverberg/e/B000APLXDS?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1630564496&sr=8-1" target="_blank">here</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i> and his Wikipedia page <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Silverberg" target="_blank">here</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>.</i></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>For an interview with Rober Silverberg click <a href="https://mythaxis.com/2021/03/28/robert-silverberg-needle-in-a-timestack/?fbclid=IwAR3GbO_FlVxslm7KG33SkHKV3hpZePg-7CzpMpb6mekDxPrqinoQ_BbAsqk" target="_blank">here</a></i></span></p><p align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><a name="__DdeLink__512_406586733"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>This story is taken from <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=science+fiction+short+stories&submit_search=Go%21" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><i>. The </i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>etext was produced from Amazing Stories September 1956. For legal
reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This
eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></p>
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<pre class="western" style="orphans: 2; widows: 2;"></pre>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-82678125793915954242022-09-03T02:44:00.001-07:002022-09-03T02:44:14.139-07:00Bookspot - All That's Left by K. A. Allen<p style="text-align: center;">Bookspot - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/All-Thats-Left-Adventure-Sci-fi-ebook/dp/B09BKZ2BJR/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1HF77GBZEC5DN&keywords=All+That%27s+Left+by+K.+A.+Allen&qid=1662198085&sprefix=all+that%27s+left+by+k.+a.+allen%2Caps%2C533&sr=8-1" target="_blank">All That's Left</a> by K. A. Allen</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">When you're all that's left, who can you count on?</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFnyHNTMiNjrOetNStQb6OgQHY2aXiJGLhDxzIR4Dk-MFAHogzG5iNWwOYIy9lOVzG6ZlerNQmy85JRZQOq0Lo1beY1TZ9ChjnlAkUlBiv_WGSl_UyCDxMvk79rnMK3mqXsaUZGjbmfv-2R2_hLPWdxBaBsYjef3i8AzoMsu0mPz2eqFoiCUvU6x1/s346/51cbhXFFKGL._SY346_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="230" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFnyHNTMiNjrOetNStQb6OgQHY2aXiJGLhDxzIR4Dk-MFAHogzG5iNWwOYIy9lOVzG6ZlerNQmy85JRZQOq0Lo1beY1TZ9ChjnlAkUlBiv_WGSl_UyCDxMvk79rnMK3mqXsaUZGjbmfv-2R2_hLPWdxBaBsYjef3i8AzoMsu0mPz2eqFoiCUvU6x1/w266-h400/51cbhXFFKGL._SY346_.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">I’m Jessica (Doc) and this is my story of how our small group of people tried to survive when the aliens began the extermination of our species. Our only escape from the relentless bombing was into the tropical rainforest, but it is a much harsher place to live than you’d think and without medical care, it can be as deadly as any environment on earth. I was a third-year pharmacy student, what did I know about being a doctor? Nothing really, but I was the closest thing we had, so I had to learn fast.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We all did that, found a need and became that person. Jared, an ex-army reservist became our leader, and it was his idea that started us on the epic 150km trek through the rainforest that would ultimately either save our lives... Or break us beyond repair.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We became a family, and live or die, at least we had each other…</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">This is the debut novel and first in series of Australian author K A Allen. A unique story of survival and friendship in the face of an alien invasion. It is told in first-person and suits all audiences who appreciate a fast-paced read with a plot that doesn’t give up.</span></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-62373595780177569452022-08-19T06:02:00.000-07:002022-08-19T06:02:06.101-07:00Art - Sin Jong Hun<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Art - <a href="https://www.artstation.com/huniartist" target="_blank">Sin Jong Hun</a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fYdfI9MDwD8Jk3ldNuqW3-rKeEWiDRsfnOvIBv8ksD1Sl5iOo_iE9eUkWTmzoIWFRaAnxabFWkev6yLQL2HaLAW6j93wgn6qyIJr-LlgZl-QWfEZbNwCm7ymZlwbsGrp9zI5h5PchYPpmmUs7bjMu1MnxTl9OFJciw1GlK-PppTklYImMy3fCLQ2/s1920/Galaxy%20Work%20Room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="759" data-original-width="1920" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fYdfI9MDwD8Jk3ldNuqW3-rKeEWiDRsfnOvIBv8ksD1Sl5iOo_iE9eUkWTmzoIWFRaAnxabFWkev6yLQL2HaLAW6j93wgn6qyIJr-LlgZl-QWfEZbNwCm7ymZlwbsGrp9zI5h5PchYPpmmUs7bjMu1MnxTl9OFJciw1GlK-PppTklYImMy3fCLQ2/w400-h159/Galaxy%20Work%20Room.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Galaxy Work Room</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDH_NoLH6iC0rx_Y0N0ot662NNiBKMKJM_AIIlJnPuJTdwaZkUZhuIqsDzKqo5OMHzSemJ9VA0CS6m53zDk1yaT1jljv0ul6RvgYWyrtVbNOKgVNvQWmycgKUBPFveSwy2Ew7NhwDICGnODxdCrb1bTIkUDW8pWuopBq_y1plguTzCqmEXmH82SptN/s2240/Time%20and%20Space.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2240" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDH_NoLH6iC0rx_Y0N0ot662NNiBKMKJM_AIIlJnPuJTdwaZkUZhuIqsDzKqo5OMHzSemJ9VA0CS6m53zDk1yaT1jljv0ul6RvgYWyrtVbNOKgVNvQWmycgKUBPFveSwy2Ew7NhwDICGnODxdCrb1bTIkUDW8pWuopBq_y1plguTzCqmEXmH82SptN/w274-h320/Time%20and%20Space.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Time And Space</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMSUnP4WY65sWdyipQHBpnjwvi6xOuAFLstwaq3dq8w3pvk94regaBpWBKvanMlttMb5BoOdXBVpSsvCI0D-lnWHSViNddristV8xZNEQiGruqwzDA4sD0-Q21GKkTKx1XQZQVvkxGAxrBi4jLiHts3tH6k46EZBYGXyDrMB22QP7EHZXwAv-mfWf/s2452/Cafe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2452" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMSUnP4WY65sWdyipQHBpnjwvi6xOuAFLstwaq3dq8w3pvk94regaBpWBKvanMlttMb5BoOdXBVpSsvCI0D-lnWHSViNddristV8xZNEQiGruqwzDA4sD0-Q21GKkTKx1XQZQVvkxGAxrBi4jLiHts3tH6k46EZBYGXyDrMB22QP7EHZXwAv-mfWf/s320/Cafe.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Cafe</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFOi7eLrQ8bVJ81G49qQF4hu4J5vWfcgpkajbZJ6tsmUpsr75uTOscPZL5xKHdnU4lS5DdmQdOb_NlTPzZuF2raiCdzSRK_8nJxLCKQyzAP84DUPF9GP7fln7XA4tqcJ1fApuwErooqFDaXEbsF6WkWzI6j02ENeUj1vfIbgpL9VyB924PqT0pwG6/s1920/Travel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1915" data-original-width="1920" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFOi7eLrQ8bVJ81G49qQF4hu4J5vWfcgpkajbZJ6tsmUpsr75uTOscPZL5xKHdnU4lS5DdmQdOb_NlTPzZuF2raiCdzSRK_8nJxLCKQyzAP84DUPF9GP7fln7XA4tqcJ1fApuwErooqFDaXEbsF6WkWzI6j02ENeUj1vfIbgpL9VyB924PqT0pwG6/s320/Travel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Travel</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhig5sYYql7pmkY-PZP3dRE2jHYQMWm3Nlmhsu2yXTou_Kbx1WAVOwLNTBMiOhL3wDySKW_BXbe3HAjJ7Nu0vwFID5Si7IIMpdBQPqG5TjniPfEmDVjPzC5qfI1NQFEp_U1CppoKeqhHaO8AHllDg9SLAhtJhSWmO0BPxXx_hZQJCsy0JBp54srmHGS/s1920/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="1920" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhig5sYYql7pmkY-PZP3dRE2jHYQMWm3Nlmhsu2yXTou_Kbx1WAVOwLNTBMiOhL3wDySKW_BXbe3HAjJ7Nu0vwFID5Si7IIMpdBQPqG5TjniPfEmDVjPzC5qfI1NQFEp_U1CppoKeqhHaO8AHllDg9SLAhtJhSWmO0BPxXx_hZQJCsy0JBp54srmHGS/s320/Untitled.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Daily Sketch (Untitled)</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIF1EbpFoevuPdviymUSiQ3wpBQ2CjIdRgLBkBwul3sglBhzMJsgu61gaz3GV5xF957gkyHWkmfBGDwqTcSBsNYuB2liKHnGGcnFOHz5XbYvY1Bgn1K98e_w23GzhTv8vCv2GtJcLRbrFrYVLB9CehmJYwnRkJYxbaF_fbVJPj1ej9c6618HGKKPMy/s2097/Pastel%20Sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2097" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIF1EbpFoevuPdviymUSiQ3wpBQ2CjIdRgLBkBwul3sglBhzMJsgu61gaz3GV5xF957gkyHWkmfBGDwqTcSBsNYuB2liKHnGGcnFOHz5XbYvY1Bgn1K98e_w23GzhTv8vCv2GtJcLRbrFrYVLB9CehmJYwnRkJYxbaF_fbVJPj1ej9c6618HGKKPMy/s320/Pastel%20Sunset.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Pastel Sunset</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;">You can check out more from Sin Jong Hun by clicking <a href="https://www.artstation.com/huniartist" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="https://thecollectibles.tumblr.com/post/649080361100378112/art-by-sin-jong-hun" target="_blank">here</a>, or <a href="https://www.instagram.com/s_jonghun_art/" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-12015979829917094272022-08-16T05:51:00.001-07:002023-11-13T19:20:06.360-08:00The Syphon<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN7VenGPjQ9vdHp2s76owGXdk5354ptc9nUXqkoNS-LF3UzUAAAHYNaPfCzn75QOXhXRv2Af1JrxAPbtzciH7YJx9cU8wScAFvin3VZMQMOf00LqVSAJlO-eHG93R47SzQTOgW427lVHq8BV8rT_w9DSKRcwYmRzn0ZLOmNFfIrYEO3KpO7-Wqnwrc" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>The Syphon</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>by Chris Morton</b></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Four
days into the voyage you will notice a change in the crew. Each of
the other ten will have heard the Syphon’s call by then, and will
have made their visits to its chamber.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>None
will form an official report of their private meetings with the
Syphon. They will record no log entries. Already there will be a
growing sense of paranoia among the group.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>Lilly
Clark, the ship’s assistant engineer, will be the first to be
affected. She has never experienced love of any kind, so she is the
most susceptible. Abandoned at birth, no lasting relationships and
still a virgin; to say she is unsuitable for this mission would be an
understatement.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><b>We
approximate that five or six days in she will make an attempt to lock
herself in with the Syphon. The crew, too preoccupied with their own
feelings, will fail to notice her mental instability in time to stop
this. She will shut herself in its pod; the pod within the room that
will be referred to as its chamber. And with her knowledge of the
ship’s computer, she will be able to temporarily override any
efforts to break her out.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>...</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>This story appears in the collection <i>Adventures in Sci-fi</i>. To continue reading, click <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/zh_TW/Chris-Morton-ebook/dp/B07NCX62XM/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">here</a>.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-3611858241985684272022-08-07T06:27:00.002-07:002022-08-07T06:27:16.798-07:00Bookspot - The Many by Seamus O'Dwyer<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> Bookspot - <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Many-Seamus-ODwyer-ebook/dp/B09PKHGBHS/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2TBPNJPBRHEAQ&keywords=the+many+by+seamus+o%27dwyer&qid=1659878088&sprefix=the+many+by+seamus+o%27dwyer%2Caps%2C657&sr=8-1" target="_blank">The Many</a> by Seamus O'Dwyer</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">A twist on what we expect from aliens in science fiction. The Many were created to help by a long-lost alien race that have spread across the stars, unknown to humans until now.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6nc2uu7EubmhoIywRRIkErxSZzkiG574iSaGunA9JFhPA6shGmtu42E9GKfI67q8yaL_RRKEoNpdZgGfHFhuMqaLbw7Dv5eg5W2ZoXcysG9keVAW22hFjC5DGD1RyZ69Abimj_TDCgZfgI_PF_d9hjS4QAAz6S406-OuFX0geXJMkpWTYwd4RfOY/s293/31rpPhh7e0L._SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_ML2_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6nc2uu7EubmhoIywRRIkErxSZzkiG574iSaGunA9JFhPA6shGmtu42E9GKfI67q8yaL_RRKEoNpdZgGfHFhuMqaLbw7Dv5eg5W2ZoXcysG9keVAW22hFjC5DGD1RyZ69Abimj_TDCgZfgI_PF_d9hjS4QAAz6S406-OuFX0geXJMkpWTYwd4RfOY/w214-h320/31rpPhh7e0L._SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_ML2_.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It is difficult for a young Many to conform and find their place within Nest and learn the tasks they must do. When caught up in the middle of human conflict it is all too easy for a single Many to become confused and stray from the group. A Many named Two lost in the confusion of conflict is forced to make difficult and dangerous choices as she tries to take her place with the adults who work to help humans prosper. Can she become one among many or set a path all her own, only she can decide.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-67708935942324709462022-08-06T20:13:00.001-07:002022-08-06T20:13:59.415-07:00Piper in the Woods by Philip K. Dick<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLA0mGf3eW9FEPzezs-ublH6MeKmtaG2d2_LbUSFgeip6MRE942cPLEgxMbXPN22X0a0bT88axf2cY7fIrRzNlvZ_EzAuvbHvxNNGWTBNHr793bUGBAIkrxs8XDCiERALPd_uHuzl7Ak/s670/Tetraexutoroid.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="670" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLA0mGf3eW9FEPzezs-ublH6MeKmtaG2d2_LbUSFgeip6MRE942cPLEgxMbXPN22X0a0bT88axf2cY7fIrRzNlvZ_EzAuvbHvxNNGWTBNHr793bUGBAIkrxs8XDCiERALPd_uHuzl7Ak/w200-h198/Tetraexutoroid.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /> <div><br /><p><br /></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b>Piper in the Woods</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">by P</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">hilip </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">K. D</span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">ick</span></span></b></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b><br /></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b> “<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,
Corporal Westerburg,” Doctor Henry Harris said gently, “just why
do you think you’re a plant?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As
he spoke, Harris glanced down again at the card on his desk. It was
from the Base Commander himself, made out in Cox’s heavy scrawl:
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Doc,
this is the lad I told you about. Talk to him and try to find out how
he got this delusion. He’s from the new Garrison, the new
check-station on Asteroid Y-3, and we don’t want anything to go
wrong there. Especially a silly damn thing like this!</i></span></span></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
pushed the card aside and stared back up at the youth across the desk
from him. The young man seemed ill at ease and appeared to be
avoiding answering the question Harris had put to him. Harris
frowned. Westerburg was a good-looking chap, actually handsome in his
Patrol uniform, a shock of blond hair over one eye. He was tall,
almost six feet, a fine healthy lad, just two years out of Training,
according to the card. Born in Detroit. Had measles when he was nine.
Interested in jet engines, tennis, and girls. Twenty-six years old.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,
Corporal Westerburg,” Doctor Harris said again. “Why do you think
you’re a plant?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
Corporal looked up shyly. He cleared his throat. “Sir, I </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>am</i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
a plant, I don’t just think so. I’ve been a plant for several
days, now.”</span></span></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
see.” The Doctor nodded. “You mean that you weren’t always a
plant?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No,
sir. I just became a plant recently.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
what were you before you became a plant?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,
sir, I was just like the rest of you.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>There
was silence. Doctor Harris took up his pen and scratched a few lines,
but nothing of importance came. A plant? And such a healthy-looking
lad! Harris removed his steel-rimmed glasses and polished them with
his handkerchief. He put them on again and leaned back in his chair.
“Care for a cigarette, Corporal?”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No,
sir.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
Doctor lit one himself, resting his arm on the edge of the chair.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Corporal,
you must realize that there are very few men who become plants,
especially on such short notice. I have to admit you are the first
person who has ever told me such a thing.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yes,
sir, I realize it’s quite rare.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
can understand why I’m interested, then. When you say you’re a
plant, you mean you’re not capable of mobility? Or do you mean
you’re a vegetable, as opposed to an animal? Or just what?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
Corporal looked away. “I can’t tell you any more,” he murmured.
“I'm sorry, sir.”</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;">“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,
would you mind telling me </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>how</i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
you became a plant?”</span></span></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Corporal
Westerburg hesitated. He stared down at the floor, then out the
window at the spaceport, then at a fly on the desk. At last he stood
up, getting slowly to his feet. “I can’t even tell you that,
sir,” he said.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
can’t? Why not?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Because
– because I promised not to.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
room was silent. Doctor Harris rose, too, and they both stood facing
each other. Harris frowned, rubbing his jaw. “Corporal, just </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>who</i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
did you promise?”</span></span></span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
can't even tell you that, sir. I’m sorry.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
Doctor considered this. At last he went to the door and opened it.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">All
right, Corporal. You may go now. And thanks for your time.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I'm
sorry I’m not more helpful.” The Corporal went slowly out and
Harris closed the door after him. Then he went across his office to
the vidphone. He rang Commander Cox’s letter. A moment later the
beefy good-natured face of the Base Commander appeared.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Cox,
this is Harris. I talked to him, all right. All I could get is the
statement that he’s a plant. What else is there? What kind of
behavior pattern?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well,”
Cox said, “the first thing they noticed was that he wouldn’t do
any work. The Garrison Chief reported that this Westerburg would
wander off outside the Garrison and just sit, all day long. Just
sit.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">In
the sun?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yes.
Just sit in the sun. Then at nightfall he would come back in. When
they asked why he wasn’t working in the jet repair building he told
them he had to be out in the sun. Then he said –” Cox hesitated.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yes?
Said what?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
said that work was unnatural. That it was a waste of time. That the
only worthwhile thing was to sit and contemplate – outside.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
then?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Then
they asked him how he got that idea, and then he revealed to them
that he had become a plant.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I'm
going to have to talk to him again, I can see,” Harris said. “And
he’s applied for a permanent discharge from the Patrol? What reason
did he give?”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
same, that he’s a plant now, and has no more interest in being a
Patrolman. All he wants to do is sit in the sun. It’s the damnedest
thing I ever heard.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">All
right. I think I’ll visit him in his quarters.” Harris looked at
his watch. “I'll go over after dinner.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Good
luck,” Cox said gloomily. “But who ever heard of a man turning
into a plant? We told him it wasn’t possible, but he just smiled at
us.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I’ll
let you know how I make out,” Harris said.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>*
* * * *</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
walked slowly down the hall. It was after six; the evening meal was
over. A dim concept was coming into his mind, but it was much too
soon to be sure. He increased his pace, turning right at the end of
the hall. Two nurses passed, hurrying by. Westerburg was quartered
with a buddy, a man who had been injured in a jet blast and who was
now almost recovered. Harris came to the dorm wing and stopped,
checking the numbers on the doors.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Can
I help you, sir?” the robot attendant said, gliding up.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I’m
looking for Corporal Westerburg’s room.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Three
doors to the right.”</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><b>
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Harris
went on. Asteroid Y-3 had only recently been garrisoned and staffed.
It had become the primary check-point to halt and examine ships
entering the system from outer space. The Garrison made sure that no
dangerous bacteria, fungus, or what-not arrived to infect the system.
A nice asteroid it was, warm, well-watered, with trees and lakes and
lots of sunlight. And the most modern Garrison in the nine planets.
He shook his head, coming to the third door. He stopped, raising his
hand and knocking.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Who's
there?" sounded through the door.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
want to see Corporal Westerburg."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
door opened. A bovine youth with horn-rimmed glasses looked out, a
book in his hand. "Who are you?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Doctor
Harris."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I'm
sorry, sir. Corporal Westerburg is asleep."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Would
he mind if I woke him up? I want very much to talk to him."
Harris peered inside. He could see a neat room, with a desk, a rug
and lamp, and two bunks. On one of the bunks was Westerburg, lying
face up, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes tightly closed.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Sir,"
the bovine youth said, "I'm afraid I can't wake him up for you,
much as I'd like to."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"You
can't? Why not?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Sir,
Corporal Westerburg won't wake up, not after the sun sets. He just
won't. He can't be wakened."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Cataleptic?
Really?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"But
in the morning, as soon as the sun comes up, he leaps out of bed and
goes outside. Stays the whole day."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
see," the Doctor said. "Well, thanks anyhow." He went
back out into the hall and the door shut after him. "There's
more to this than I realized," he murmured. He went on back the
way he had come.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>It
was a warm sunny day. The sky was almost free of clouds and a gentle
wind moved through the cedars along the bank of the stream. There was
a path leading from the hospital building down the slope to the
stream. At the stream a small bridge led over to the other side, and
a few patients were standing on the bridge, wrapped in their
bathrobes, looking aimlessly down at the water.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>It
took Harris several minutes to find Westerburg. The youth was not
with the other patients, near or around the bridge. He had gone
farther down, past the cedar trees and out onto a strip of bright
meadow, where poppies and grass grew everywhere. He was sitting on
the stream bank, on a flat grey stone, leaning back and staring up,
his mouth open a little. He did not notice the Doctor until Harris
was almost beside him.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Hello,"
Harris said softly.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Westerburg
opened his eyes, looking up. He smiled and got slowly to his feet, a
graceful, flowing motion that was rather surprising for a man of his
size. "Hello, Doctor. What brings you out here?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Nothing.
Thought I'd get some sun."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Here,
you can share my rock." Westerburg moved over and Harris sat
down gingerly, being careful not to catch his trousers on the sharp
edges of the rock. He lit a cigarette and gazed silently down at the
water. Beside him, Westerburg had resumed his strange position,
leaning back, resting on his hands, staring up with his eyes shut
tight.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Nice
day," the Doctor said.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Do
you come here every day?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"You
like it better out here than inside."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
can't stay inside," Westerburg said.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"You
can't? How do you mean, 'can't'?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
would die without </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>air</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
wouldn't you?" the Corporal said.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"And
you'd die without sunlight?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Westerburg
nodded.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Corporal,
may I ask you something? Do you plan to do this the rest of your
life, sit out in the sun on a flat rock? Nothing else?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Westerburg
nodded.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"How
about your job? You went to school for years to become a Patrolman.
You wanted to enter the Patrol very badly. You were given a fine
rating and a first-class position. How do you feel, giving all that
up? You know, it won't be easy to get back in again. Do you realize
that?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
realize it."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"And
you're really going to give it all up?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"That's
right."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Harris
was silent for a while. At last he put his cigarette out and turned
toward the youth. "All right, let's say you give up your job and
sit in the sun. Well, what happens, then? Someone else has to do the
job instead of you. Isn't that true? The job has to be done, </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>your</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
job has</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>to
be done. And if you don't do it someone else has to."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
suppose so."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Westerburg,
suppose everyone felt the way you do? Suppose everyone wanted to sit
in the sun all day? What would happen? No one would check ships
coming from outer space. Bacteria and toxic crystals would enter the
system and cause mass death and suffering. Isn't that right?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"If
everyone felt the way I do they wouldn't be going into outer space."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"But
they have to. They have to trade, they have to get minerals and
products and new plants."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Why?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"To
keep society going."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Why?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well
–" Harris gestured. "People couldn't live without
society."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Westerburg
said nothing to that. Harris watched him, but the youth did not
answer.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Isn't
that right?" Harris said.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Perhaps.
It's a peculiar business, Doctor. You know, I struggled for years to
get through Training. I had to work and pay my own way. Washed
dishes, worked in kitchens. Studied at night, learned, crammed,
worked on and on. And you know what I think, now?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
wish I'd become a plant earlier."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Doctor
Harris stood up. "Westerburg, when you come inside, will you
stop off at my office? I want to give you a few tests, if you don't
mind."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
shock box?" Westerburg smiled. "I knew that would be coming
around. Sure, I don't mind."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Nettled,
Harris left the rock, walking back up the bank a short distance.
"About three, Corporal?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
Corporal nodded.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
made his way up the hill, to the path, toward the hospital building.
The whole thing was beginning to become more clear to him. A boy who
had struggled all his life. Financial insecurity. Idealized goal,
getting a Patrol assignment. Finally reached it, found the load too
great. And on Asteroid Y-3 there was too much vegetation to look at
all day. Primitive identification and projection on the flora of the
asteroid. Concept of security involved in immobility and permanence.
Unchanging forest.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
entered the building. A robot orderly stopped him almost at once.
"Sir, Commander Cox wants you urgently, on the vidphone."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Thanks."
Harris strode to his office. He dialed Cox's letter and the
Commander's face came presently into focus. "Cox? This is
Harris. I've been out talking to the boy. I'm beginning to get this
lined up, now. I can see the pattern, too much load too long. Finally
gets what he wants and the idealization shatters under the –"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Harris!"
Cox barked. "Shut up and listen. I just got a report from Y-3.
They're sending an express rocket here. It's on the way."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"An
express rocket?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Five
more cases like Westerburg. All say they're plants! The Garrison
Chief is worried as hell. Says we _must_ find out what it is or the
Garrison will fall apart, right away. Do you get me, Harris? Find out
what it is!"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes,
sir," Harris murmured. "Yes, sir."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>By
the end of the week there were twenty cases, and all, of course, were
from Asteroid Y-3.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Commander
Cox and Harris stood together at the top of the hill, looking
gloomily down at the stream below. Sixteen men and four women sat in
the sun along the bank, none of them moving, none speaking. An hour
had gone by since Cox and Harris appeared, and in all that time the
twenty people below had not stirred.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
don't get it," Cox said, shaking his head. "I just
absolutely don't get it. Harris, is this the beginning of the end? Is
everything going to start cracking around us? It gives me a hell of a
strange feeling to see those people down there, basking away in the
sun, just sitting and basking."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Who's
that man there with the red hair?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"That's
Ulrich Deutsch. He was Second in Command at the Garrison. Now look at
him! Sits and dozes with his mouth open and his eyes shut. A week ago
that man was climbing, going right up to the top. When the Garrison
Chief retires he was supposed to take over. Maybe another year, at
the most. All his life he's been climbing to get up there."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"And
now he sits in the sun," Harris finished.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"That
woman. The brunette, with the short hair. Career woman. Head of the
entire office staff of the Garrison. And the man beside her. Janitor.
And that cute little gal there, with the bosom. Secretary, just out
of school. All kinds. And I got a note this morning, three more
coming in sometime today."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Harris
nodded. "The strange thing is – they really </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>want</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
to sit down there. They're completely rational; they could do
something else, but they just don't care to."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well?"
Cox said. "What are you going to do? Have you found anything?
We're counting on you. Let's hear it."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
couldn't get anything out of them directly," Harris said, "but
I've had some interesting results with the shock box. Let's go inside
and I'll show you."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Fine,"
Cox turned and started toward the hospital. "Show me anything
you've got. This is serious. Now I know how Tiberius felt when
Christianity showed up in high places."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
snapped off the light. The room was pitch black. "I'll run this
first reel for you. The subject is one of the best biologists
stationed at the Garrison. Robert Bradshaw. He came in yesterday. I
got a good run from the shock box because Bradshaw's mind is so
highly differentiated. There's a lot of repressed material of a
non-rational nature, more than usual."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
pressed a switch. The projector whirred, and on the far wall a
three-dimensional image appeared in color, so real that it might have
been the man himself. Robert Bradshaw was a man of fifty, heavy-set,
with iron grey hair and a square jaw. He sat in the chair calmly, his
hands resting on the arms, oblivious to the electrodes attached to
his neck and wrist. "There I go," Harris said. "Watch."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>His
film-image appeared, approaching Bradshaw. "Now, Mr. Bradshaw,"
his image said, "this won't hurt you at all, and it'll help us a
lot." The image rotated the controls on the shock box. Bradshaw
stiffened, and his jaw set, but otherwise he gave no sign. The image
of Harris regarded him for a time and then stepped away from the
controls.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Can
you hear me, Mr. Bradshaw?" the image asked.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
is your name?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Robert
C. Bradshaw."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
is your position?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Chief
Biologist at the check-station on Y-3."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Are
you there now?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No,
I'm back on Terra. In a hospital."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Why?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Because
I admitted to the Garrison Chief that I had become a plant."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Is
that true? That you are a plant."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes,
in a non-biological sense. I retain the physiology of a human being,
of course."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
do you mean, then, that you're a plant?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
reference is to attitudinal response, to Weltanschauung."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Go
on."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"It
is possible for a warm-blooded animal, an upper primate, to adopt the
psychology of a plant, to some extent."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
refer to this."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"And
the others? They refer to this also?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"How
did this occur, your adopting this attitude?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Bradshaw's
image hesitated, the lips twisting. "See?" Harris said to
Cox. "Strong conflict. He wouldn't have gone on, if he had been
fully conscious."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
–"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
was taught to become a plant."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
image of Harris showed surprise and interest. "What do you mean,
you were </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>taught</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
to become a plant?"</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"They
realized my problems and taught me to become a plant. Now I'm free
from them, the problems."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Who?
Who taught you?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
Pipers."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Who?
The Pipers? Who are the Pipers?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>There
was no answer.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Mr.
Bradshaw, who are the Pipers?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>After
a long, agonized pause, the heavy lips parted. "They live in the
woods. …"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
snapped off the projector, and the lights came on. He and Cox
blinked. "That was all I could get," Harris said. "But
I was lucky to get that. He wasn't supposed to tell, not at all. That
was the thing they all promised not to do, tell who taught them to
become plants. The Pipers who live in the woods, on Asteroid Y-3."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"You
got this story from all twenty?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"No."
Harris grimaced. "Most of them put up too much fight. I couldn't
even get </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>this</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
much from them."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Cox
reflected. "The Pipers. Well? What do you propose to do? Just
wait around until you can get the full story? Is that your program?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No,"
Harris said. "Not at all. I'm going to Y-3 and find out who the
Pipers are, myself."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
small patrol ship made its landing with care and precision, its jets
choking into final silence. The hatch slid back and Doctor Henry
Harris found himself staring out at a field, a brown, sun-baked
landing field. At the end of the field was a tall signal tower.
Around the field on all sides were long grey buildings, the Garrison
check-station itself. Not far off a huge Venusian cruiser was parked,
a vast green hulk, like an enormous lime. The technicians from the
station were swarming all over it, checking and examining each inch
of it for lethal life-forms and poisons that might have attached
themselves to the hull.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"All
out, sir," the pilot said.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
nodded. He took hold of his two suitcases and stepped carefully down.
The ground was hot underfoot, and he blinked in the bright sunlight.
Jupiter was in the sky, and the vast planet reflected considerable
sunlight down onto the asteroid.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
started across the field, carrying his suitcases. A field attendant
was already busy opening the storage compartment of the patrol ship,
extracting his trunk. The attendant lowered the trunk into a waiting
dolly and came after him, manipulating the little truck with bored
skill.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>As
Harris came to the entrance of the signal tower the gate slid back
and a man came forward, an older man, large and robust, with white
hair and a steady walk.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"How
are you, Doctor?" he said, holding his hand out. "I'm
Lawrence Watts, the Garrison Chief."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>They
shook hands. Watts smiled down at Harris. He was a huge old man,
still regal and straight in his dark blue uniform, with his gold
epaulets sparkling on his shoulders.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Have
a good trip?" Watts asked. "Come on inside and I'll have a
drink fixed for you. It gets hot around here, with the Big Mirror up
there."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Jupiter?"
Harris followed him inside the building. The signal tower was cool
and dark, a welcome relief. "Why is the gravity so near Terra's?
I expected to go flying off like a kangaroo. Is it artificial?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No.
There's a dense core of some kind to the asteroid, some kind of
metallic deposit. That's why we picked this asteroid out of all the
others. It made the construction problem much simpler, and it also
explains why the asteroid has natural air and water. Did you see the
hills?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
hills?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"When
we get up higher in the tower we'll be able to see over the
buildings. There's quite a natural park here, a regular little
forest, complete with everything you'd want. Come in here, Harris.
This is my office." The old man strode at quite a clip, around
the corner and into a large, well-furnished apartment. "Isn't
this pleasant? I intend to make my last year here as amiable as
possible." He frowned. "Of course, with Deutsch gone, I may
be here forever. Oh, well." He shrugged. "Sit down,
Harris."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Thanks."
Harris took a chair, stretching his legs out. He watched Watts as he
closed the door to the hall. "By the way, any more cases come
up?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Two
more today," Watts was grim. "Makes almost thirty, in all.
We have three hundred men in this station. At the rate it's going –"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Chief,
you spoke about a forest on the asteroid. Do you allow the crew to go
into the forest at will? Or do you restrict them to the buildings and
grounds?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Watts
rubbed his jaw. "Well, it's a difficult situation, Harris. I
have to let the men leave the grounds sometimes. They can </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>see</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
the forest from the buildings, and as long as you can see a nice
place to stretch out and relax that does it. Once every ten days they
have a full period of rest. Then they go out and fool around."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"And
then it happens?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes,
I suppose so. But as long as they can see the forest they'll want to
go. I can't help it."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
know. I'm not censuring you. Well, what's your theory? What happens
to them out there? What do they do?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
happens? Once they get out there and take it easy for a while they
don't want to come back and work. It's boondoggling. Playing hookey.
They don't want to work, so off they go."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"How
about this business of their delusions?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Watts
laughed good-naturedly. "Listen, Harris. You know as well as I
do that's a lot of poppycock. They're no more plants than you or I.
They just don't want to work, that's all. When I was a cadet we had a
few ways to make people work. I wish we could lay a few on their
backs, like we used to."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"You
think this is simple goldbricking, then?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Don't
you think it is?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No,"
Harris said. "They really believe they're plants. I put them
through the high-frequency shock treatment, the shock box. The whole
nervous system is paralyzed, all inhibitions stopped cold. They tell
the truth, then. And they said the same thing – and more."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Watts
paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. "Harris,
you're a doctor, and I suppose you know what you're talking about.
But look at the situation here. We have a garrison, a good modern
garrison. We're probably the most modern outfit in the system. Every
new device and gadget is here that science can produce. Harris, this
garrison is one vast machine. The men are parts, and each has his
job, the Maintenance Crew, the Biologists, the Office Crew, the
Managerial Staff.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Look
what happens when one person steps away from his job. Everything else
begins to creak. We can't service the bugs if no one services the
machines. We can't order food to feed the crews if no one makes out
reports, takes inventories. We can't direct any kind of activity if
the Second in Command decides to go out and sit in the sun all day.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Thirty
people, one tenth of the Garrison. But we can't run without them. The
Garrison is built that way. If you take the supports out the whole
building falls. No one can leave. We're all tied here, and these
people know it. They know they have no right to do that, run off on
their own. No one has that right anymore. We're all too tightly
interwoven to suddenly start doing what we want. It's unfair to the
rest, the majority."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
nodded. "Chief, can I ask you something?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
is it?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Are
there any inhabitants on the asteroid? Any natives?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Natives?"
Watts considered. "Yes, there's some kind of aborigines living
out there." He waved vaguely toward the window.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
are they like? Have you seen them?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes,
I've seen them. At least, I saw them when we first came here. They
hung around for a while, watching us, then after a time they
disappeared."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Did
they die off? Diseases of some kind?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No.
They just – just disappeared. Into their forest. They're still</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>there,
someplace."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
kind of people are they?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,
the story is that they're originally from Mars. They don't look much
like Martians, though. They're dark, a kind of coppery color. Thin.
Very agile, in their own way. They hunt and fish. No written
language. We don't pay much attention to them."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
see." Harris paused. "Chief, have you ever heard of
anything called – The Pipers?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
Pipers?" Watts frowned. "No. Why?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
patients mentioned something called The Pipers. According to
Bradshaw, the Pipers taught him to become a plant. He learned it from
them, a kind of teaching."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
Pipers. What are they?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
don't know," Harris admitted. "I thought maybe you might
know. My first assumption, of course, was that they're the natives.
But now I'm not so sure, not after hearing your description of them."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
natives are primitive savages. They don't have anything to teach
anybody, especially a top-flight biologist."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
hesitated. "Chief, I'd like to go into the woods and look
around. Is that possible?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Certainly.
I can arrange it for you. I'll give you one of the men to show you
around."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I'd
rather go alone. Is there any danger?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No,
none that I know of. Except –"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Except
the Pipers," Harris finished. "I know. Well, there's only
one way to find them, and that's it. I'll have to take my chances."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"If
you walk in a straight line," Chief Watts said, "you'll
find yourself back at the Garrison in about six hours. It's a damn
small asteroid. There's a couple of streams and lakes, so don't fall
in."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"How
about snakes or poisonous insects?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Nothing
like that reported. We did a lot of tramping around at first, but
it's grown back now, the way it was. We never encountered anything
dangerous."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Thanks,
Chief," Harris said. They shook hands. "I'll see you before
nightfall."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Good
luck." The Chief and his two armed escorts turned and went back
across the rise, down the other side toward the Garrison. Harris
watched them go until they disappeared inside the building. Then he
turned and started into the grove of trees.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
woods were very silent around him as he walked. Trees towered up on
all sides of him, huge dark-green trees like eucalyptus. The ground
underfoot was soft with endless leaves that had fallen and rotted
into soil. After a while the grove of high trees fell behind and he
found himself crossing a dry meadow, the grass and weeds burned brown
in the sun. Insects buzzed around him, rising up from the dry
weed-stalks. Something scuttled ahead, hurrying through the
undergrowth. He caught sight of a grey ball with many legs,
scampering furiously, its antennae weaving.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
meadow ended at the bottom of a hill. He was going up, now, going
higher and higher. Ahead of him an endless expanse of green rose,
acres of wild growth. He scrambled to the top finally, blowing and
panting, catching his breath.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
went on. Now he was going down again, plunging into a deep gully.
Tall ferns grew, as large as trees. He was entering a living Jurassic
forest, ferns that stretched out endlessly ahead of him. Down he
went, walking carefully. The air began to turn cold around him. The
floor of the gully was damp and silent; underfoot the ground was
almost wet.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
came out on a level table. It was dark, with the ferns growing up on
all sides, dense growths of ferns, silent and unmoving. He came upon
a natural path, an old stream bed, rough and rocky, but easy to
follow. The air was thick and oppressive. Beyond the ferns he could
see the side of the next hill, a green field rising up.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Something
grey was ahead. Rocks, piled-up boulders, scattered and stacked here
and there. The stream bed led directly to them. Apparently this had
been a pool of some kind, a stream emptying from it. He climbed the
first of the boulders awkwardly, feeling his way up. At the top he
paused, resting again.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>As
yet he had had no luck. So far he had not met any of the natives. It
would be through them that he would find the mysterious Pipers that
were stealing the men away, if such really existed. If he could find
the natives, talk to them, perhaps he could find out something. But
as yet he had been unsuccessful. He looked around. The woods were
very silent. A slight breeze moved through the ferns, rustling them,
but that was all. Where were the natives? Probably they had a
settlement of some sort, huts, a clearing. The asteroid was small; he
should be able to find them by nightfall.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
started down the rocks. More rocks rose up ahead and he climbed them.
Suddenly he stopped, listening. Far off, he could hear a sound, the
sound of water. Was he approaching a pool of some kind? He went on
again, trying to locate the sound. He scrambled down rocks and up
rocks, and all around him there was silence, except for the splashing
of distant water. Maybe a waterfall, water in motion. A stream. If he
found the stream he might find the natives.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
rocks ended and the stream bed began again, but this time it was wet,
the bottom muddy and overgrown with moss. He was on the right track;
not too long ago this stream had flowed, probably during the rainy
season. He went up on the side of the stream, pushing through the
ferns and vines. A golden snake slid expertly out of his path.
Something glinted ahead, something sparkling through the ferns.
Water. A pool. He hurried, pushing the vines aside and stepping out,
leaving them behind.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
was standing on the edge of a pool, a deep pool sunk in a hollow of
grey rocks, surrounded by ferns and vines. The water was clear and
bright, and in motion, flowing in a waterfall at the far end. It was
beautiful, and he stood watching, marveling at it, the undisturbed
quality of it. Untouched, it was. Just as it had always been,
probably. As long as the asteroid existed. Was he the first to see
it? Perhaps. It was so hidden, so concealed by the ferns. It gave him
a strange feeling, a feeling almost of ownership. He stepped down a
little toward the water.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>And
it was then he noticed her.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
girl was sitting on the far edge of the pool, staring down into the
water, resting her head on one drawn-up knee. She had been bathing;
he could see that at once. Her coppery body was still wet and
glistening with moisture, sparkling in the sun. She had not seen him.
He stopped, holding his breath, watching her.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>She
was lovely, very lovely, with long dark hair that wound around her
shoulders and arms. Her body was slim, very slender, with a supple
grace to it that made him stare, accustomed as he was to various
forms of anatomy. How silent she was! Silent and unmoving, staring
down at the water. Time passed, strange, unchanging time, as he
watched the girl. Time might even have ceased, with the girl sitting
on the rock staring into the water, and the rows of great ferns
behind her, as rigid as if they had been painted there.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>All
at once the girl looked up. Harris shifted, suddenly conscious of
himself as an intruder. He stepped back. "I'm sorry," he
murmured. "I'm from the Garrison. I didn't mean to come poking
around."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>She
nodded without speaking.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"You
don't mind?" Harris asked presently.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>So
she spoke Terran! He moved a little toward her, around the side of
the pool. "I hope you don't mind my bothering you. I won't be on
the asteroid very long. This is my first day here. I just arrived
from Terra."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>She
smiled faintly.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I'm
a doctor. Henry Harris." He looked down at her, at the slim
coppery body, gleaming in the sunlight, a faint sheen of moisture on
her arms and thighs. "You might be interested in why I'm here."
He paused. "Maybe you can even help me."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>She
looked up a little. "Oh?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Would
you like to help me?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>She
smiled. "Yes. Of course."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"That's
good. Mind if I sit down?" He looked around and found himself a
flat rock. He sat down slowly, facing her. "Cigarette?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,
I'll have one." He lit up, taking a deep breath. "You see,
we have a problem at the Garrison. Something has been happening to
some of the men, and it seems to be spreading. We have to find out
what causes it or we won't be able to run the Garrison."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
waited for a moment. She nodded slightly. How silent she was! Silent
and unmoving. Like the ferns.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,
I've been able to find out a few things from them, and one very
interesting fact stands out. They keep saying that something called –
called The Pipers are responsible for their condition. They say the
Pipers taught them –" He stopped. A strange look had flitted
across her dark, small face. "Do you know the Pipers?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>She
nodded.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Acute
satisfaction flooded over Harris. "You do? I was sure the
natives would know." He stood up again. "I was sure they
would, if the Pipers really existed. Then they do exist, do they?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"They
exist."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
frowned. "And they're here, in the woods?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
see." He ground his cigarette out impatiently. "You don't
suppose there's any chance you could take me to them, do you?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Take
you?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes.
I have this problem and I have to solve it. You see, the Base
Commander on Terra has assigned this to me, this business about the
Pipers. It has to be solved. And I'm the one assigned to the job. So
it's important to me to find them. Do you see? Do you understand?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>She
nodded.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,
will you take me to them?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
girl was silent. For a long time she sat, staring down into the
water, resting her head against her knee. Harris began to become
impatient. He fidgeted back and forth, resting first on one leg and
then on the other.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,
will you?" he said again. "It's important to the whole
Garrison. What do you say?" He felt around in his pockets.
"Maybe I could give you something. What do I have...." He
brought out his lighter. "I could give you my lighter."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
girl stood up, rising slowly, gracefully, without motion or effort.
Harris' mouth fell open. How supple she was, gliding to her feet in a
single motion! He blinked. Without effort she had stood, seemingly
without </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>change</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.
All at once she was standing instead of sitting, standing and looking
calmly at him, her small face expressionless.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Will
you?" he said.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes.
Come along." She turned away, moving toward the row of ferns.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
followed quickly, stumbling across the rocks. "Fine," he
said. "Thanks a lot. I'm very interested to meet these Pipers.
Where are you taking me, to your village? How much time do we have
before nightfall?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
girl did not answer. She had entered the ferns already, and Harris
quickened his pace to keep from losing her. How silently she glided!</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Wait,"
he called. "Wait for me."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
girl paused, waiting for him, slim and lovely, looking silently back.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
entered the ferns, hurrying after her.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Well,
I'll be damned!" Commander Cox said. "It sure didn't take
you long." He leaped down the steps two at a time. "Let me
give you a hand."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
grinned, lugging his heavy suitcases. He set them down and breathed a
sigh of relief. "It isn't worth it," he said. "I'm
going to give up taking so much."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Come
on inside. Soldier, give him a hand." A Patrolman hurried over
and took one of the suitcases. The three men went inside and down the
corridor to Harris' quarters. Harris unlocked the door and the
Patrolman deposited his suitcase inside.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Thanks,"
Harris said. He set the other down beside it. "It's good to be
back, even for a little while."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"A
little while?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
just came back to settle my affairs. I have to return to Y-3 tomorrow
morning."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Then
you didn't solve the problem?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
solved it, but I haven't </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>cured</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
it. I'm going back and get to work</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>right
away. There's a lot to be done."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"But
you found out what it is?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes.
It was just what the men said. The Pipers."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
Pipers do exist?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Yes."
Harris nodded. "They do exist." He removed his coat and put
it over the back of the chair. Then he went to the window and let it
down. Warm spring air rushed into the room. He settled himself on the
bed, leaning back.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"The
Pipers exist, all right – in the minds of the Garrison crew! To the
crew, the Pipers are real. The crew created them. It's a mass
hypnosis, a group projection, and all the men there have it, to some
degree."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"How
did it start?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Those
men on Y-3 were sent there because they were skilled, highly-trained
men with exceptional ability. All their lives they've been schooled
by complex modern society, fast tempo and high integration between
people. Constant pressure toward some goal, some job to be done.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Those
men are put down suddenly on an asteroid where there are natives
living the most primitive of existence, completely vegetable lives.
No concept of goal, no concept of purpose, and hence no ability to
plan. The natives live the way the animals live, from day to day,
sleeping, picking food from the trees. A kind of Garden-of-Eden
existence, without struggle or conflict."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"So?
But -"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Each
of the Garrison crew sees the natives and </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>unconsciously</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
thinks of his own early life, when he was a child, when </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>he</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
had no worries, no responsibilities, before he joined modern society.
A baby lying in the sun.</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"But
he can't admit this to himself! He can't admit that he might </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>want
</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">to
live like the natives, to lie and sleep all day. So he invents The
Pipers, the idea of a mysterious group living in the woods who trap
him, lead him into their kind of life. Then he can blame </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>them</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
not himself. They 'teach' him to become a part of the woods."</span></span></b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"What
are you going to do? Have the woods burned?"</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"No."
Harris shook his head. "That's not the answer; the woods are
harmless. The answer is psychotherapy for the men. That's why I'm
going right back, so I can begin work. They've got to be made to see
that the Pipers are inside them, their own unconscious voices calling
to them to give up their responsibilities. They've got to be made to
realize that there are no Pipers, at least, not outside themselves.
The woods are harmless and the natives have nothing to teach anyone.
They're primitive savages, without even a written language. We're
seeing a psychological projection by a whole Garrison of men who want
to lay down their work and take it easy for a while."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>The
room was silent.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
see," Cox said presently. "Well, it makes sense." He
got to his feet. "I hope you can do something with the men when
you get back."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"I
hope so, too," Harris agreed. "And I think I can. After
all, it's just a question of increasing their self-awareness. When
they have that the Pipers will vanish."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Cox
nodded. "Well, you go ahead with your unpacking, Doc. I'll see
you at dinner. And maybe before you leave, tomorrow."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>"Fine."</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="center" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>* * * * *</b></span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<b><br />
</b></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Harris
opened the door and the Commander went out into the hall. Harris
closed the door after him and then went back across the room. He
looked out the window for a moment, his hands in his pockets.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>It
was becoming evening, the air was turning cool. The sun was just
setting as he watched, disappearing behind the buildings of the city
surrounding the hospital. He watched it go down.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Then
he went over to his two suitcases. He was tired, very tired from his
trip. A great weariness was beginning to descend over him. There were
so many things to do, so terribly many. How could he hope to do them
all? Back to the asteroid. And then what?</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
yawned, his eyes closing. How sleepy he was! He looked over at the
bed. Then he sat down on the edge of it and took his shoes off. So
much to do, the next day.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
put his shoes in the corner of the room. Then he bent over,
unsnapping one of the suitcases. He opened the suitcase. From it he
took a bulging gunnysack. Carefully, he emptied the contents of the
sack out on the floor. Dirt, rich soft dirt. Dirt he had collected
during his last hours there, dirt he had carefully gathered up.</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>When
the dirt was spread out on the floor he sat down in the middle of it.
He stretched himself out, leaning back. When he was fully comfortable
he folded his hands across his chest and closed his eyes. So much
work to do – But later on, of course. Tomorrow. How warm the dirt
was. …</b></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>He
was sound asleep in a moment.</b></span></span></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
</p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;">
<br />
</p><p class="western" style="line-height: 32px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><br /></p><div align="right" class="western" style="line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 0.5cm;"><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Philip K. Dick should need no introduction. If you are unfamiliar with his work, check out the amazon page <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Philip-K-Dick/e/B00BRTKOEA?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2&qid=1559445753&sr=8-2" target="_blank">here</a></i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i> and his Wikipedia page <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_K._Dick" target="_blank">here</a>.</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i> This story is taken from <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).</i></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><p><br /></p></div>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4336592442808049715.post-39956118937709525272022-07-16T00:54:00.004-07:002022-07-16T00:54:30.688-07:00Art - Amir Zand<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> Art - <a href="https://www.artstation.com/amirzand" target="_blank">Amir Zand</a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnPWW5BsMu7KdJUgIVt6rHJD7Wfrb1mtw7Yo_xhdukwCFeJTY9GX738OcOSF32yVTVXUNGQs51hUJYWp-eImPYj7sF6_g_1PXiIz7GWIoMZpzE4s6nr3xktWr3iZOlasNSm1DxCt37-c0HmW8OQHKpNSzlbHokgcqHKayil-Ek25EaC413rDGpGyC/s1920/Back%20to%20Base.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1079" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnPWW5BsMu7KdJUgIVt6rHJD7Wfrb1mtw7Yo_xhdukwCFeJTY9GX738OcOSF32yVTVXUNGQs51hUJYWp-eImPYj7sF6_g_1PXiIz7GWIoMZpzE4s6nr3xktWr3iZOlasNSm1DxCt37-c0HmW8OQHKpNSzlbHokgcqHKayil-Ek25EaC413rDGpGyC/w400-h225/Back%20to%20Base.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Back to Base</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjILWrs83EqSsNK1YrkWiEtETPEiQrGyCDKluYSLDV3IYkHAw8hcuYC6gyFqZfJwLDzpvW06A_-zViGoQ-PTEqayfM6MKswNjpBFjmfY9NbrYreQa6lC30bDmA0jBnGF5QGIibVBfBeCVANolse1Wb1979LQgA9B_dzkVL40zzpkoZUkV5UoJepjle/s1920/PSYOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1920" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjILWrs83EqSsNK1YrkWiEtETPEiQrGyCDKluYSLDV3IYkHAw8hcuYC6gyFqZfJwLDzpvW06A_-zViGoQ-PTEqayfM6MKswNjpBFjmfY9NbrYreQa6lC30bDmA0jBnGF5QGIibVBfBeCVANolse1Wb1979LQgA9B_dzkVL40zzpkoZUkV5UoJepjle/w400-h200/PSYOP.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">PSYOP</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhecm7AjW_eYsnsu32TH6lv7d0xXQ27HOcL1Cp12Xp5_vKUIRrJFACS3DH53Nhh6rgbqDUQ6a-6AVC5JM_LwX6TmU1B-k45oGqcmnesJH9XyQG9UF1ga7ithcF1kogzkfl8SOPjzgyhgmhtCzzHoKbtpNQOiEMEr0y7qPEPSR9kkS5pf-okN2YPQSGc/s2500/Speed%20Paints%2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="1816" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhecm7AjW_eYsnsu32TH6lv7d0xXQ27HOcL1Cp12Xp5_vKUIRrJFACS3DH53Nhh6rgbqDUQ6a-6AVC5JM_LwX6TmU1B-k45oGqcmnesJH9XyQG9UF1ga7ithcF1kogzkfl8SOPjzgyhgmhtCzzHoKbtpNQOiEMEr0y7qPEPSR9kkS5pf-okN2YPQSGc/w290-h400/Speed%20Paints%2018.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Speed Paints (18)</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFA1I6GfVwT1o4tHNhRk-CTImkmaDj3wgRzpxAAyY2L6iGqVBbeF3PXpYHDqVzkldakh-NrJmn2hUGqjlilTLLV3Boxo5LCs_mjDEhy5nj5icghyL2K-F-Bxzy4mDBkKZZa31x6IetSy1JT6frVTDe6bvae-KnWutEET3hJZ4iU5SfUzJFVW9xbbc/s2641/Tranquility.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2641" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFA1I6GfVwT1o4tHNhRk-CTImkmaDj3wgRzpxAAyY2L6iGqVBbeF3PXpYHDqVzkldakh-NrJmn2hUGqjlilTLLV3Boxo5LCs_mjDEhy5nj5icghyL2K-F-Bxzy4mDBkKZZa31x6IetSy1JT6frVTDe6bvae-KnWutEET3hJZ4iU5SfUzJFVW9xbbc/w291-h400/Tranquility.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Tranquility</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAD2eYpIPzpp3kGzmr8tMXVS7ZecIcW38xXF4-_GOexrl402fsmCFC-iFN0qpy9c944KDx-uq40JM8mu2HXPw24ZtHguXOWONET3g8pzYZEdv7RjXYR722kujQNGou_R0TkFSeHOQgf1azOd4U9NuR2oLPYLuapfLizTvagkh-8-UmMb6eFZSSR-S/s2700/Wandering%20Earth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1893" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAD2eYpIPzpp3kGzmr8tMXVS7ZecIcW38xXF4-_GOexrl402fsmCFC-iFN0qpy9c944KDx-uq40JM8mu2HXPw24ZtHguXOWONET3g8pzYZEdv7RjXYR722kujQNGou_R0TkFSeHOQgf1azOd4U9NuR2oLPYLuapfLizTvagkh-8-UmMb6eFZSSR-S/w280-h400/Wandering%20Earth.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Wandering Earth</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Chris Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17839476477608619468noreply@blogger.com0