THE MAGAZINE OF Fantasi/ and

Science Fiction

fintOSE FOR ECCLESIASTES Mt by Roger Z^lozny

THE EfiS OF PHORKOt

by Sirf Lawrence Jones TH E MA GAZINE 0 E

Science Fiction

N 0 V E Admm R-

St 'FOR

• > . A Rose For Ecclesiastes {novelet) ROGER ZEEAZNY 5 Mama PHILIP WINSOR 36

Science: Welcome Stranger! ISAAC ASIMOV 39

Wings of Song LLOYD BIGGLE, JR, 50

Winged Victory S, DORMAN 64

Books AVRAM DAVIDSON 68

Eight O’clock in the Morning RAY NELSON 74

The Eyes of Phorkos {short novel) L, E. JONES 79

Ferdinand Feghoot: IfKVI GRENDEL BRIARTON 126

In this issue . . . Coming next month 4

Letters 127

F&SF Marketplace 129

Cover by Hannes Bok {illustrating "A Rose For Ecclesiastes”)

1

Joseph W. Ferman, publisher Avram Davidson, executive editor Isaac Asimov, science editor Edward L. Ferman, managing editor Ted White, assistant editor

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Vohtme 25, No, 5, Whole No. 150, Nov. 1963. Pithlished monthly by Mercury Press, Inc., at 40^ a copy. Annual subscription ^4.50; $5.00 in Canada and the Pan American Union; $5.50 in all other countries. Publi- cation office, 10 Ferry Street, Concord, N. H. Editorial and general mail should be sent to 347 East 53rd St., Neva York 22, N. Y. Second Class postage paid at Concord, N. H. Printed in U. S. A. © 1963 by Mercury Press, Inc. All rights, including translations into other languages, reserved. Submissions iniist be accoinpunied by stamped, self-addressed envelopes; the Publisher assumes no rcsponsibjlity for return of unsolicited manuscripts. . .

In this issue . .

Music is something the world can never have too much of, and it does not very often supply a theme for SF stories. It supplies a poignant one for a story by LLOYD HIGGLE, JR. At the other end

of the spectrum is a real weirdo about men . . . er . . . well ... by S. DORMAN. A good solid chunk of short novel about men, marble, and The Isles of Greece by SIR LAWRENCE JONES is balanced by a vivid htde terror tale of RAY NELSON’s. PHILIP WTNSOR gives us a glimpse of wisdom ordained out of the mouths of babes, and the cover story is one of love, mystery, a strange planet and a dying race, by ROGER ZELAZNY (of whom we shall hear much more). The cover is, of course, by one of the great Science-Fantasy artists of all times, the rare and incomparable HANNES BOK.

Coming next month . .

... is part one of a two part novel, THE TREE OF TIME, by DAMON KNIGHT. Need we say that it’s good? Certainly not. Also scheduled is one by Your Servant To Command. The former deals with the future, the latter, with the past. In both there is, we frank- ly declare, a certain (of cotextual necessity) touch of modest deca- dence; but there will be plenty of wholesome goodies for young and old alike, as well. Hasta la vista . . . 4 Roger Zelazny, whose first story for FirSF makes its im- pressive appearance below, says that he has read SF and Fan- tasy for as far back as he can remember, and has wanted to write it for almost as long, “but did not have much opportunity to do so until early last year when Columbia got around to giving me the M.A. for ‘Two Traditions and Cyril Tourneur:

An Examination of Morality and Humor In <« The Revenger’s

Tragedy >» Former 6pee instructor, ex-Nike crewman, Mr. Zelazny is now an OASDI claims examiner with the Social Se- curity Administration, is 25 years old, claims that he is dread-

fully lazy and likes beer . . . All the elements of Classical Old-Fashioned Science Fiction are here in this story of a Mars

“where the sun is a tarnished penny . . . the wind is a whip [and] two moons play at hotrod games”—but the authors wide-ranging mind and perceptive pen bring us new lamps for old.

A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES

by Roger Zelazny

L away, and send him to his cabin. — Since there’s only one damned .’’ I WAS BUSY TRANSLATING ONE conceited rhymer . . of my Madrigals Macahre into “Let not ambition mock thy use- Martian on the morning I was ful toil.’’ I cut him off. found acceptable. The intercom So, the Martians had finally had buzzed briefly, and I dropped made up their minds! I knocked my pencil and flipped on the tog- an inch and a half of ash from a gle in a single motion. smouldering butt, and took my first "Mister G,” piped Morton’s drag since I had lit it. The entire youthful contralto, “the old man month’s anticipation tried hard to says I should ‘get hold of that crowd itself into the moment, but damned conceited rhymer’ right could not quite make it. I was 5 ” :

6 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION t'rightened to walk those forty feet sometime and surprise everybody? and hear Emory say the words I I’m willing to admit you’re smart, already knew he would say; and maybe even a genius, but— oh. that feeling elbowed the other one Hell!” He made a heaving gesture into the background. with both hands and walked back So I finished the stanza I was to his chair. translating before I got up. “Betty has finally talked them It took only a moment to reach into letting you go in.” His voice Emory’s door. I knocked twice and was normal again. “They’ll receive opened it, just as he growled, you this afternoon. Draw one of "Come in.” the jeepsters after lunch, and get "You wanted to see me?” I sat down there.” down quickly to save him the trou- “Okay,” I said. ble of offering me a seat. “That’s all, then.” “That was fast. What did you I nodded, got to my feet. My do, run?” hand was on the doorknob when I regarded his paternal discon- he said tent: “I don’t have to tell you how im- Little fatty flecks beneath pale portant this is. Don’t treat them the eyes, thinning hair, and an Irish way you treat us.” nose; a voice a decibel louder than I closed the door behind me. anyone else’s . . . Hamlet to Claudius: “I was I don’t remember what I had working.” for lunch. I was nervous, but I

“Hah! he snorted. “Come off it. knew instinctively that I would- No one’s ever seen you do any of n’t muff it. My Boston publishers that stuff.” expected a Martian Idyll, or at I shrugged my shoulders and least a Saint-Exuperay job on started to rise. space flight. The National Science “If that’s— what you called me Association wanted a complete re- down here port on the Rise and Fall of tlie “Sit down!” Martian Empire. He stood up. He walked around They would both be pleased. I his desk. He hovered above me and knew. glared down. (A hard trick, even That’s the reason everyone is when I’m in a low chair.) jealous —why they hate me. I al- “You are undoubtedly the most ways come through, and I can antagonistic bastard I’ve ever had come through better than anyone to work with!” he bellowed, like a else. belly-stung buffalo. “Why the hell I shovelled in a final anthill of don’t you act like a human being slop, and made my way to our car ” —

A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 7

barn. I drew one jeepster and She permitted herself a brief headed it toward Tircllian. Germanic giggle —more, at my Flames of sand, lousy with iron starting a sentence with “like” oxide, set fire to the buggy. They tlian at my discomfort— then she swarmed over the open top and bit started talking. (She is a top lin- through my scarf; they set to work guist, so a word from the Village pitting my goggles. Idiom still tickles her!) The jeepster, swaying and pant- I appreciate her precise, furry ing like a little donkey I onee rode talk; informational, and all that. 1 through the Himalayas, kept kiek- had enough in the way of social ing me in the seat of the pants. pleasantries before me to last at The Mountains oLTirellian shuf- least the rest of my life. I looked at fled their feet and moved toward her chocolate-bar eyes and perfect me at a coekeyed angle. teeth, at her sun-bleached hair, Suddenly I was heading uphill, close-cropped to the head (I hate and I shifted gears to accommo- blondes!), and decided that she date the engine’s braying. Not like was in love with me.

Gobi, not like the Great South- “Mr. Gallinger, the Matriarch is western Desert, I mused. Just red, waiting inside to be introduced. just dead . . . without even a She has consented to open the eactus. Temple records for your study.” I reached the crest of the hill, She paused here to pat her hair and but I had raised too much dust to squirm a little. Did my gaze make see what was ahead. It didn’t mat- her nervous? ter, though, I have a head full of “They are religious documents, maps. I bore to the left and down- as well as their only history,” she hill, adjusting the throttle. A continued, “sort of like the Ma- cross-wind and sohd ground beat habharata. She expects you to ob- down the fires. I felt like Ulysses serve certain rituals in handling in Malebolge—with a terza-rima them, like repeating the sacred speeeh in one hand and an eye out words when you turn pages — she for Dante. will teach you the system.” I sounded a rock pagoda and ar- I nodded quickly, several time.s. rived. “Fine,— let’s go in.” Betty waved as I crunched to a “Uh ” she paused. “Do not halt, then jumped down. forget their Eleven Forms of Po- liteness and Degree. They take

“Hi,” I choked, unwinding my matters of form quite seriously scarf and shaking out a pound and and do not get into any discus- a half of grit. “Like, w’here do I go sions —over the equality of the and who do I see?” sexes 8 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

“I know all about their taboos,” "Recite one of your poems, I broke in. “Don’t worry. I’ve lived please.” in the Orient, remember?” “I’m sorry, but nothing short of She dropped her eyes and seized a tliorough translating job would my hand. I almost jerked it away. do justice to your language and "It will look better if I enter my poetry, and I don’t know leading you.” enough of j'our language vet.” I swallowed my comments and “Oh?” followed her, hke Samson in Gaza. “But I’ve been making such translations for my own amuse- Inside, my last thought met ment, as an exercise in grammar,” with a strange correspondence. I continued. “I’d be honored to The Matriarch’s quarters were a bring a few of them along one of rather abstract version of what I the timps that I come here.” imagine the tents of die tribes of “Yes. Do so.” Israel to have been like. Abstract, Score one for me! I say, because it was all frescoed She turned to Betty. brick, peaked like a huge tent, ‘Tou may go now.” with animal-skin representations Betty muttered the parting for- like gray-blue scars, diat looked as malities, gave me a strange side- if they had been laid on the walls wise look, and was gone. She ap- with a palette knife. parently had expected to stay and The Matriarch, M’Cwvie, was “assist” me. She wanted a piece of short, white-haired, fifty-ish, and the glory, like everyone else. But I dressed like a Gipsy queen. With was die Schliemann at this Troy, her rainbow of voluminous skirts and there would be only one name she looked like an inverted punch on the Association report! bowl set atop a cushion. M’Cwyie rose, and I noticed Accepting my obeisances, she that she gained very little height regarded me as an owl might a rab- by standing. But then I’m six-six bit. The lids of those black, black and look like a poplar in October: eyes jumped upwards as she dis- thin, bright red on top, and tow- covered my perfect accent. —The ering above everyone else. tape recorder Betty had carried on “Our records are very, very old,” her interviews had done its part, she began. “Betty says that your and I knew the language reports word for their age is ‘millennia’.” from the first two expeditions, ver- I nodded appreciatively. batim. I’m all hell when it comes “I’m very eager to see them.” to picking up accents. “They are not here. We will “You are the poet?” have to go into the Temple — they "Yes,” I rephed. may not be removed.” A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 9

I was suddenly wary. We had had no idea this exist- “You have no objections to my ed. Greedily, I cast my eyes about. copying them, do you?” A highly sophisticated system of “No. I see that you respect esthetics lay behind the decor. We them, or your desire would not be would have to revise our entire es- so great.” timation of Martian culture. “Excellent.” For one thing, the ceiling was She seemed amused. I asked her vaulted and corbelled; for another, what was funny. there were side-columns with re- “The High Tongue may not be verse flutings; for another—oh so easy for a foreigner to learn.” hell! The place was big. Posh. It came through fast. You could never have guessed it No one on the first expedition from the shaggy outsides. had gotten this close. I had had no I bent forward to study the gilt way of knowing that this was a filigree on a ceremonial table. double^language deal — a classi- M’Cwyie seemed a bit smug at my cal as well as a vulgar. I knew intentness, but I’d still have hated some of their Prakrit, now I had to play poker with her. to learn all their Sanskrit. The table was loaded with “Ouch! and damn!” books. “Pardon, please?” With my toe, I traced a mosaic “I’ts non-translatable, M’Cwyie. on the floor. But imagine yourself having to “Is your entire city within this learn the High Tongue in a hurry, one building?” and you can guess at the senti- “Yes, it goes far back into the ment.” mountain.” She seemed amused again, and “I see,” I said, seeing nothing. told me to remove my shoes. I couldn’t ask her for a con- She guided me through an al- ducted tour, yet. cove . . . She moved to a small stool by

. . . and into a burst of By- the table. zantine brilliance! “Shall we begin your friendship with the High Tongue?” No Earthman had ever been in I was trying to photograph tlie this room before, or I would have hall with my eyes, knowing I heard about it. Carter, the first ex- would have to get a camera in pedition’s linguist, with the help here, somehow, sooner or later. I of one Mary Allen, M.D., had tore my gaze from a statuette and learned all the grammar and vo- nodded, hard. cabulary that 1 knew while sitting “Yes, introduce me.’' cross-legged in the ante-chamber. I sat down. 10 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

For tlie next three weeks alpha- —Lord, I am sorry! Daddy— bet-bugs chased each other behind Sir —1 am sorry! —It couldn’t be!

ray eyelids whenever I tried to It couldn’t be . . . sleep. The sky was an unclouded On the day the boy graduated pool of turquoise that rippled cal- from high school, with the French, hgraphies whenever I swept my German, Spanish, and Latin

eyes across it. I drank quarts of awards. Dad Gallinger had told

coffee while I worked and mixed his fourteen-3'ear old, six-foot cocktails of Benzedrine and cham- scarecrow of a son that he wanted pagne for my coffee breaks. him to enter the ministry. I re- M’Cwyie tutored me two hours member how his son was evasive: every morning, and occasionally “Sir,” he had said, “I’d sort of for another two in the evening. I like to study on my own for a year spent an additional fourteen hours or so, and then take pre-theology a day on my own, once I had got- courses at some liberal arts uni- ten up sufficient momentum to go versity. I feel I’m still sort of ahead alone. young to try a seminary, straight And at night the elevator of off.” time dropped me to its bottom The Voice of God: “But you floors . . . have the gift of tongues, my son. You can preach the Gospel in all I was six again, learning my the lands of Babel. You were born Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and Ara- to be a missionary. You say you are maic. I was ten, sneaking peeks at j'oung, but time is rushing by you the Iliad. When Daddy wasn’t like a whirlwind. Start early, and spreading helffire, brimstone, and you will enjoy added years of brotherly love, he was teaching me service.” to dig the Word, like in the origi- The added years of service were nal. so many added tails to the cat re- Lord! There are so many origi- peatedly laid on my back. I can't nals and so many words! When I see his face now, I never can. May- was twelve I started pointing out be it is because I was always afraid the little differences between what to look at it then. he was preaching and what I was And years later, when he was reading. dead, and laid out, in black, The fundamentalist vigor of his amidst bouquets, amidst weeping reply brooked no debate. It was congregationalists, amidst prayers, worse than any beating. I kept my red faces, handkerchiefs, hands mouth shut after that and learned patting your shoulders, solemn- to appreciate Old Testament faced comforters ... I looked at poetry. him and did not recognize him. —

A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 11

We had met nine months be- lyrics and the Pulitzer they de- fore my birth, this stranger and I. served. He had never been cruel — stern, Then baek to the States for my demanding, with contempt for ev- degree, grad work in linguisties, eryone’s shortcomings —but never and more prizes. cruel. He was also all that I had Then one day a ship went to had of a mother. And brothers. Mars. The vessel settling in its And sisters. He had tolerated my New Mexico nest of fires con- three years at St. John’s, possibly tained a new language. — It was because of its name, never know- fantastic, exotic, and esthetically ing how liberal and delightful a overpowering. After I bad learned place it really was. all there was to know about it, and But I never knew him, and the written my book, I was famous in man atop the catafalque demand- new circles: ed nothing now; I was free not to “Go, Gallinger. Dip your bucket preach the Word. in the well, and bring us a drink But now I wanted to, in a dif- of Mars. Go, learn another world ferent way. I wanted to preach a — but remain aloof, rail at it word that I could never have gently like Auden — and hand us voiced while he lived. its soul in iambics.” I did not return for my Senior And I came to the land where year in the fall. I had a small in- the sun is a tarnished penny, where heritance coming, and a bit of the wind is a whip, where two trouble getting control of it, since moons play at hotrod games, and a I was still under 18. But 1 man- hell of sand gives you the incen- aged. diary itches whenever you look at

It was Greenwich Village I fi- it. nally settled upon. Not telling any well-meaning I rose from my twistings on the parishoners my new address, I en- bunk and crossed the darkened tered into a daily routine of writ- cabin to a port. The desert was a ing poetry and teaehing myself carpet of endless orange, bulging Japanese and Hindustani. I grew from the sweepings of centuries a fiery beard, drank espresso, and beneath it. learned to play ehess. I wanted to “I a stranger, unafraid — This try a eouple of the other paths to is the land — I’ve got it made!” salvation. I laughed.

After that, it was two years in I had the High Tongue by the India with the Old Peaee Corps tail already — or the roots, if you which broke me of my Buddhism, want your puns anatomical, as and gave me my Pipes of Krishna well as correct. 12 FANTASV AND SCIENCE FICTION

The High and Low Tongues I switched on my desk lamp were not so dissimilar as they had and sought King James amidst my first seemed. I had enough of the books. one to get me through tlie murkier Vanity of vanities, saith the parts of the other. I had the gram- Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is mar and all the commoner irregu- vanity. What profit hath a man lar verbs down cold; the dictionary • • • I was constructing grew by the day, like a tulip, and would bloom My progress seemed to startle shortly. Every time I played the M’Cwyie. She peered at me, like tapes the stem lengthened. Sartre’s Other, across the tabletop. Now was the time to tax my in- I ran through a chapter in the genuity, to really drive the lessons Book of Locar. I didn’t look up, home. I had purposely refrained but I could feel the tight net her from plunging into the major texts eyes were working about my head, until I could do justice to them. shoulders, and rapid hands. I I had been reading minor commen- turned another page. taries, bits of verse, fragments of Was she weighing the net, history. And one thing had im- judging the size of the catch? And pressed me strongly in all that I what for? The books said nothing read. of fishers on Mars. Especially of They wrote about concrete men. They said that some god things: rocks, sand, water, winds; named Malann had spat, or had and the tenor couched within done something disgusting (de- these elemental ssTubols was fierce- pending on the version you read), ly pessimistic. It reminded me of and that life had gotten undenvay some Buddhist texts, but even as a disease in inorganic matter. more so, I realized from my recent They said that movement was its recherches, it was like parts of the first law, its first law, and that the Old Testament. Specifically, it re- dance was the only legitimate re- minded me of the Book of Ec- ply to the inorganic . . . the clesiastes. dance’s quality its justification,

That, then, would be it. The — fication . . . and love is a sentiment, as well as the vocabu- disease in organic matter— Inor- lary, was so similar that it would ganic matter? be a perfect exercise. Like putting I shook my head. I had almost Poe into French. 1 would never be been asleep, a convert to the Way of Malann, “M’narra.” but 1 would show them that an I stood and stretched. Her eyes Earthman had once thought the outlined me greedily now. So I same thoughts, felt similarly. met them, and they dropped. A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 13

“I grow tired. I want to rest had just lost, bent over like diat. awhile. I didn’t sleep much last I grinned weakly and straight- night.” ened up, my face red from more She nodded, Earth’s shorthand than exertion. I hadn’t expected for "yes”, as she had learned from them that quickly. me.) Suddenly I thought of Have- “You wish to relax, and see the lock Ellis again in his area of explicitness of the doctrine of Lo- greatest popularity. car in its fullness?” The little redheaded doll, wear- "Pardon me?” ing, sari-like, a diaphanous piece “You wish to see a Dance of of the Martian sky, looked up in Locar?” wonder— as a child at some color- "Oh.” Their damned circuits of ful flag on a high pole. form and periphrasis here ran “Hello,” I said, or its equiva- worse than the Korean! "Yes. Sure- lent. ly. Any time it’s going to be done She bowed before replying. Evi- I’d be happy to watch.” dently I had been promoted in I continued, "In the meantime. status. I’ve been meaning to ask you “I shall dance,” said the red whether I might take some pic- wound in that pale, pale cameo, ” tures — her face. Eyes, the color of dream “Now is the time. Sit down. and her dress, pulled away from Rest. I will call die musicians.” mine. She busded out through a door She drifted to the center of the

I had never been past. room. Well now, the dance was the Standing there, like a iigure in iiighest art, according to Locar, an Etruscan frieze, she was either not to mention Havelock Ellis, meditating or regarding the de- and I was about to see how their sign on the floor. centuries-dead philosopher felt it Was the mosaic symbolic of should be conducted. I rubbed my something? I studied it. If it was, eyes and snapped over, touching it eluded me; it would make an at- my toes a few times. tractive bathroom floor or patio, The blood began pounding in but I couldn’t see much in it be- my head, and I sucked in a couple yond that. deep breaths. I bent again and The other two were paint-spat- there was a flurry of motion at the tered sparrows like M’Cwyie, in door. their middle years. One settled to To the trio who entered with the floor with a triple-stringed in- M’Cwyie I must have looked as if strument faintly resembling a I were searching for the marbles I samisen. The other held a simple 14 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

woodblock and two drumsticks. She was. M’Cwyie disdained her stool She began a microscopic sway- and was seated upon the floor be- ing. A fraction of an inch right,

fore I realized it. I followed suit. then left. Her fingers opened like The samisen player was still the petals of a flower, and I could tuning up, so I leaned toward see that her eyes were closed. M’Cwyie. Her eyes opened. They were “What is the dancer’s name?” distant, glassy, looking through me “Braxa,” she replied, without and the walls. Her swaying be- looking at me, and raised her left came more pronounced, merged hand, slowly, which meant yes, with the beat. and go ahead, and let it begin. The rvind was sweeping in from The stringed'thing throbbed the desert now, falling against like a toothache, and a tick-tock- Tirellian like waves on a dike. ing, like ghosts of all the clocks Her fingers moved, they were the they had never invented, sprang gusts. Her arms, slow pendulums, from the block. descended, began a counter-moi’e- Braxa was a statue, both hands ment. raised to her face, elbows high The gale tvas coming now. She and outspread. began an axial moi'ement and her The music became a metaphor hands caught up with the rest of for fire. her body, only now her shoulders

Crackle, purr, snap . . . commenced to writhe out a figure- She did not move. eight. The hissing altered to splashes. The wind! The wind, I say. O The cadence slowed. It was water wild, enigmatic! O muse of St.- now, the most precious thing in John Perse! the world, gurgling clear then The cyclone w’as twisting round, green over mossy rocks. those eyes, its still center. Her Still she did not move. head was thrown back, but I knew Glissandos. A pause. there was no ceiling between her Then, so faint I could hardly be gaze, passive as Buddha’s, and the sure at first, the tremble of the unchanging skies. Only the two winds began. Softly, gently, sigh- moons, perhaps, interrupted their ing and halting, uncertain. A slumber in that elemental Nirvana pause, a sob, then a repetition of of uninhabited turquoise. the first statement, only louder. Years ago, I had seen tlie Were my eyes completely Devadasis in India, the street- bugged from my reading, or was dancers, spinning their colorful Braxa actually trembling, all over, webs, drawing in the male insect. head to foot. But Braxa was moi'e than this : she A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 15

was a Ramadjany, like those vota- floor. Her head fell upon her raised ries of Rama, incarnation of knees. She did not move. Vishnu, who had given the dance There was silence. to man: the sacred dancers. The clicking was monotonous- I realized, from the ache aaross ly steady now; the whine of the my shoulders, how tensely I had strings made me think of the sting- been sitting. My armpits were wet. ing rays of the sun, their heat Rivulets had been running doum stolen by the wind’s halations; the my sides. What did one do now? blue was Sarasvati and Mary, and Applaud? a girl named Laura. I heard a I sought M’Civyie from tlie cor- sit^r from somewhere, watched ner of my eye. She raised her right this statue come to life, and in- hand. haled a divine afflatus. As if by telepathy the girl shud- I was again Rimbaud with his dered all over and stood. The mu- hashish, Baudelaire with his laud- sicians also rose. So did M’Cwyie. anum, Poe, De Quincy, Wilde, I got to my feet, with a Charley Mallarme, and Aleister Crowley. Horse in my left leg, and said, “It I was, for a fleeting second, my was beautiful,” inane as that father in his dark pulpit and sounds. darker suit, the hymns and the or- I received three different High gan’s wheeze transmuted to bright Forms of "thank you.” wind. There was a flurry of color and She was a spun weather vane, a I w'as alone again with M’Cwyie. feathered crucifix hovering in the “That is the one hundred-seven- air, a clothes-line holding one teenth of the two thousand, two bright garment lashed parallel to hundred-twenty-four dances of the ground. Her shoulder was bare Locar.” now, and her right breast moved I looked down at her. up and down like a moon in the “Whether Locar was right or sky, its red nipple appearing mo- wrong, he worked out a fine reply mently above a fold and vanishing to the inorganic.” again. The music was as formal She smiled. as Job's argument with God. Her "Are the dances of your world dance was God's reply. like this?” The music slowed, settled; it “Some of them are similar. I had been met, matched, answered. was reminded of them as I Her garment, as if alive, crept watched Braxa —but I’ve never back into the more sedate folds it seen anything exactly like hers.” originally held. “She is good,” M’Cwyie said, She dropped low, lower, to the “She knows all the dances.” :

16 F.ANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

A hint of her earlier expression dope to keep awake. He looks sort

which had troubled me . . . of glassy-eyed these days. Maybe It was gone in an instant. that’s natural for a poet, though.” “I must tend my duties now.” Betty had been standing there, She moved to the table and closed because she broke in then: the books. “M’narra.” “Regardless of what you think “Good-bye.” I slipped into my of him, it’s going to take me at boots. least a year to learn what he’s “Good-bye, Gallinger.” picked up in three weeks. And I’m I walked out the door, mounted just a linguist, not a poet.” the jeepster, and roared across the Morton must have been nursing

evening into night, my wings of a crush on her bovine charms. It’s risen desert flapping slowly behind the only reason I can think of for me. his dropping his guns to say what he did. II. “I took a course in modern poet- ry when I was back at the univer- I had just closed the door be- sity,” he began. “We read six au- hind Betty, after a brief grammar thors — Yeats, Pound, Eliot, Crane, session, when I heard the voices Stevens, and Gallinger — and on in the hall. My vent was opened a the last day of the semester, fraction, so I stood there and when the prof was feeling a eav'esdropped little rhetorical, he said, ‘These six Morton’s fruity treble: “Guess names are written on the century, what? He said ‘hello’ to me a while and all the gates of criticism and ago.” Hell shall not prevail against ” “Hmmph!” Emory’s elephant them.’ lungs exploded. “Either he’s slip- “Myself,” he continued, “I ping, or you were standing in his thought his Pipes of Krishna and way and he wanted you to move.” his Madrigals were great. I was “Probably didn’t recognize me. honored to be chosen for an ex- I don’t think he sleeps any more, pedition he was going on. now he has tliat language to play “I think he’s spoken two dozen with. I had night watch last week, words to me since I met hun,” he and every night I passed his door finished. at 0300 — I always heard that re- The Defense: “Did it ever occur corder going. At 0500, when I got to you,” Betty said, “that he might off, he was still at it.” be tremendously self-conscious “The guy is working hard,” Em- about his appearance? He was also ory admitted, grudgingly. “In fact, a precocious child, and probably I think he’s taking some kind of never even had school friends. —

A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 17

He’s sensitive and very introvert- I wanted to write something. Ec- ed.” clesiastes could take a night off. I "Sensitive? Self-conscious?” wanted to write a poem, a poem Emory choked and gagged. ‘The about the one hundred-seven- man is as proud as Lucifer, and teenth dance of Locar; about a he’s a walking insult machine. You rose following the light, traced by press a button like ‘Hello’ or ‘Nice the wind, sick, like Blake’s rose,

day’ and he thumbs his nose at dying . . . you. He’s got it down to a reflex." I found a pencil and began. 'They muttered a few other When I had finished I was pleasantries and drifted away. pleased. It wasn’t great— at least, Well bless you, Morton boy. it was no greater than it needed to You little pimple-faced. Ivy-bred be— High Martian not being my connoisseur! I’ve never taken a strongest tongue. I groped, and course in my poetry, but I’m glad put it into English, with partial someone said that. The Gates of rhymes. Maybe I’d stick it in my Hell. Well now! Maybe Daddy’s next book. I called it Braxa: prayers got heard somewhere, and I am a missionary, after all! In a land of wind and red, Only ... where the icy evening of Time

, . . Only a missionary needs freezes milk in the breasts of Life, something to convert people to. I as two moons overhead— have my private system of esthet- cat and dog in alleyways of dream ics, and I suppose it oozes an ethical by-product somewhere. scratch and scramble agelessly my

But if I ever had anything to flight . . . preach, really, even in my poems, I wouldn’t care to preach it to such This final flower turns a burning lowlifes as you. If you think Fm head. a slob, I’m also a snob, and there’s no room for you in my Heaven I put it away and found some it’s a private place, where Swift, phenobarbitol. I was suddenly Shaw, and Petronius Arbiter come tired. to dinner. And oh, the feasts we have! When I showed my poem to The Trimalchio’s, the Emory's we M’Cwyie the next day, she read it dissect! through several times, very slowly. We finish you with the soup, ‘‘It is lovely,” she said. ‘‘But Morton! you used tliree words from your own language. ‘Cat’ and ‘dog’, I I turned and settled at my desk. assume, are two small animals 18 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

with a hereditary hatred for one I bowed. another. But what is ‘flower’?” “I should be honored.” “Oh,” I said. “I’ve never come “Good. Bring your machines across your word for ‘flower’, but I when you want, and I will show was actually thinking of an Earth- you a room.” flower, the rose.” “Will this afternoon be aU “What is it like?” right?” “Well, Its petals are generaUy “Certainly.” bright red. That’s what I meant, on “Then I will go now and get one level, by ‘burning head’. I also things ready. Until this afternoon wanted it to imply fever, though, and red hair, and the fire of life. “Good-bye." The rose, itself, has a thorny stem, green leaves, and a distinct, pleas- I anticipated a little trouble ant aroma.” from Emory, but not much. Every- “I wish I could see one.” one back at the ship was anxious “I suppose it could be arranged. to see the Martians, talk with the I’ll check.” — Martians, poke needles in the “Do it, please. You are a ” She Martians, ask them about Martian used the word for “prophet”, or re- climate, diseases, soil chemistry, ligious poet, like Isaiah or Locar. politics, and mushrooms (our bot- “ — and 3'our poem is inspired. I anist was a fungus nut, but a rea- shall tell Braxa of it.” sonably good guy) — and only four I declined the nomination, but or five had actually gotten to see felt flattered. them. The crew had been spend- This, then, I decided, was the ing most of its time excavating strategic day, the day on which to dead cities and their acropolises. ask whether I might bring in the We played the game by strict rules, microfilm machine and the cam- and the natives were as fiercely inr era. I wanted to copy aU their sular as the nineteenth-century texts, I explained, and I couldn’t Japanese. I figured I would meet write fast enough to do it. with little resistance, and I figured She surprised me by agreeing right. immediately. But she bowled me In fact, I got the distinct im- over with her invitation. pression that everyone was happy "Would you like to come and to see me move out. stay here while you do this thing? I stopped in the hydroponics Then you can work night and day, room to speak with our mushroom- any time you want— except when master. the Temple is being used, of “Hi, Kane. Grow any toadstools cx>urse.” in the sand yet?” ”

A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 19

He sniffed. He always sniffs. “I guess I’m 'in’ then.” Maybe he’s allergic to plants. "Looks that way —I still don’t “Hello, Gallinger. No, I haven’t see how you learned their lan- had any success with toadstools, guage, though. Of course, I had but look behind the car barn next trouble with French and German time you’re out there. I’ve got a for my Ph.D, but last week I few cacti going.” heard Betty demonstrate it at “Great,” I observed. Doc Kane lunch. It just sounds like a lot of was about my only friend aboard, weird noises. She says speaking it not counting Betty. is like working a Times crossword “Say, I came down to ask you a and trying to imitate birdcalls at favor.” the same dme.” “Name it.” I laughed, and took the cigarette "I want a rose.” he offered me. “A what?" “It’s complicated,” I acknowl- “A rose. You know, a nice red edged. “But, well, it’s as if you America Beauty— job — thorns, pret- suddenly came across a whole new ty smelling class of mycetae here—you’d “I don’t think it will take in this dream about it at night.” soil. Sniff, sniff." His eyes were gleaming. “No, you don’t understand. I “Wouldn’t that be something! don’t want to plant it, I just want I might, yet, you know.” the flowers.” / “Maybe you wiU.” “I’d have to use the tanks.” He He chuckled as we walked to scratched his hairless dome. "It the door. would take at least three mondis to "I’ll start your roses tonight. get you flowers, even under forced Take it easy down there.” growth.” “You bet. Thanks.” “Will you do it?” Like I said, a fungus nut, but a “Sure, if you don’t mind the fairly good guy. wait.” “Not at all. In fact, three My quarters in the Citadel of months will just make it before we TireUian were directly adjacent leave.” I looked about at the pools to the Temple, on the inward side of crawling slime, at the trays of and slightly to the left. They were shoots. “ — I’m moving up to Tirel- a considerable improvement over lian today, but I’ll be in and out my cramped cabin, and I was all the time. I’ll be here when it pleased tliat Martian culture had blooms.” progressed sufficiently to discover “Moving up there, eh? Moore the desirability of the mattress over said they’re an in-group.” the pallet. Also, the bed was long 20 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

enough to accommodate me, I read on, but the nature of the which was surprising. plague was not discussed. I turned So I unpacked and took 16 pages, skipped ahead, and drew a 35 mm. shots of the Temple, be- blank. fore starting on the books. M’Cxvyie! M’Cwyie! When 1 I took ’stats until I was sick of xvant to question you most, you are turning pages without knowing not around! what they said. So I started trans- Would it be a faux pas to go lating a work of history. looking for her? Yes, I decided. I “Lo. In the thirty-seventh year was restricted to the rooms I had of the Process of Cillen the rains been shown, that had been an im- came, which gave rise to rejoicing, plicit understanding. I would have for it was a rare and untoward oc- to wait to find out. currence, and commonly con- So I cursed long and loud, in strued a blessing. many languages, doubtless burn- “But it was not the life-giving ing Malann’s sacred ears, there in semen of Malann which fell from his Temple. the heavens. It was the blood of He did not see fit to strike me the universe, spurting from an ar- dead, so I decided to call it a day tery. And the last days were upon and hit the sack. us. The final dance was to begin. "The rains brought the plague I must have been asleep for sev- that does not kill, and the last eral hours when Braxa entered my passes of Locar began with tlieir room with a tiny lamp. She

drumming . . dragged me awake by tugging at I asked myself what the hell my pajama sleeve. Tamur meant, for he was an his- I said hello. Thinking back, torian and supposedly committed there is not much else I could have to fact. This was not their Apoca- said. lypse. “Hello.’’ Unless they could be one and “I have come,” she said, “to hear the same . . .? the poem.” Why not? I mused. Tirellian’s “What poem?” handful of people were the rem- “Yours.” nant of what had obviously once “Oh.” been a highly developed culture. I yawned, sat up, and did They had had wars, but no holo- things people usually do when causts; science, but little technol- awakened in the middle of the ogy. A plague, a plague that did night to read poetry. not kill . . .? Could that have “That is very kind of you, but done it? How, if it wasn’t fatal? isn’t the hour a trifle awkward?” A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 21

“I don’t mind,” she said. “Oh, you mean having chil- Someday I am going to write an dren!” article for the ]our7ial of Seman- “Yes. That’s it! Exactly.” tics, called ‘‘Tone of Voice; An She laughed. It was die first time Insufficient Vehicle for Irony.” I had heard laughter in Tirellian. However, I was awake, so I It sounded like a violinist striking grabbed my robe. his high strings with the bow, in ‘‘What sort of animal is that?” short little chops. It was not an al- she asked, pointing at the silk together pleasant tiring to hear, es- '' dragon on my lapel. pecially because she laughed too “Mythical,” I replied. “Now long. look, it’s late. I am tired. I have When she had finished she much to do in the morning. And moved closer. M’Cwyie just might get the wrong “I remember, now,” she said. idea if she learns you were here.” “We used to have such rules. Half “Wrong idea?” a Process ago, when I was a child, “You know damned well what I we had such rules. But,” she looked mean!” It was the first time I had as if she were ready to laugh had an opportunity to use Martian again, “there is no need for diem profanity, and it failed. now.” “No,” she said, “I do not know.” My mind moved like a tape re- She seemed frightened, like a corder played at triple speed. puppy being scolded without Half a Process! HalfaProccssa- knowing what it has done wrong. ProcessaProcess! No! Yes! I softened. Her red cloak Half a Process was two hun- matched her hair and lips so per- dred-forty-three years, roughly fectly, and those lips were trem- speaking! bling. —Time enougli to learn the “Here now, I didn’t mean to up- 2224 dances ofLocar. set you. On my world there arc cer- —Time enough to grow old, if tain uh, mores, concerning people you were human. of different sex alone together in — Earth-style human, I mean. bedrooms, and not allied by mar- I looked at her again, pale as the riage . . . Um, I mean, you see white queen in an ivory chess set. what I mean?” She was human, I’d stake my “No.” soul — alive, normal, healthy. I’d They were jade, her eyes. stake my life —woman, my body

“Well, it’s sort of . . . Well, it’s sex, that’s what it is.” But she was two and a half cen- A light was switched on in those turies old, which made M’Cwyie jade lamps. Methusala’s grandma. It flattered ”

22 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

me to think of their repeated Mars had never had a tobacco in- complimenting of my skills, as dustry either. Or booze. The as- linguist, as poet. These superior cetics I had met in India had been beings! Dionysiac compared to tliis. But what did she mean ‘there is “What is that tube of lire?” no such need for them now’? Why “A cigarette. Want one?” the near-hysteria? Why all those “Yes, please.”

funny looks I’d been getting from She sat beside me, and I lighted M’Cwyie? it for her. I suddenly knew I was close to “It irritates the nose.” something important, besides a “Yes. Draw some ^into your beautiful girl. lungs, hold it there, and exhale.” “Tell me,” I said, in my Casual A moment passed. Voice, “did it have anything to do “Ooh,” she said. with ‘the plague that does not A pause, then, “Is it sacred?” kill,’ of which Tamur wrote?” “No, it’s nicotine,” I answered, “Yes,” she replied, “the children “a very ersatz form of divinity.” born after the Rains could have— no Another pause. children of their own, and “Please don’t ask me to trans- “And what?” I was leaning for- late ‘ersatz’.” ward, memory set at “record”. “I won’t. I get this feeling “ — and the men had no desire sometimes when I dance.” to get any.” “It will pass in a moment.” I sagged backward against the “Tell me your poem now.” bedpost. Racial sterility, mascu- An idea hit me. line impotence, following phe- “Wait a minute,” I said, “I may nomenal weather. Had some vaga- have something better.” bond cloud of radioactive junk I got up and rummaged through from God knows where pene- my notebooks, then I returned trated their weak atmosphere one and sat beside her. day? One day long before Shia- “These are the first three chap- parelli saw the canals, mythical as ters of the Book of Eccclsiastes,” my dragon, before those “canals” I explained. “It is very similar to had given rise to some correct your own sacred books.” guesses for all the wrong reasons, I started reading. had Braxa been alive, dancing, I got through eleven verses be- here—damned in the womb since fore she cried out, “Please don’t blind Milton had written of an- read that! Tell me one of yours!” other paradise, equally lost? I stopped and tossed the note- I found a cigarette. Good thing book onto a nearby table. She was I had thought to bring ashtrays. shaking, not as she had quivered A ROSE EOR ECCLESIASTES 23

that day she danced as the wind, “No,” I said. “Go to bed.” but with the jitter of unshed She smiled, and before I real- tears. She held her cigarette awk- ized it, had unclasped the fold of wardly, like a pencil. Clumsily, I red at her shoulder. put my arm about her shoulders. And everything fell away. “He is so sad,” she said, "like all And I swallowed, with some the others.” difficulty. So I twisted my mind like a “All right,” she said. bright ribbon, folded it, and tied So I kissed her, as the breath of the crazy Christmas knots I love fallen cloth extinguished the so well. From German to Mar- lamp. tian, with love, I did an impromp- tu paraphrasal of a poem about a III.

Spanish dancer. I thought it would please her. I was right. Tlie days were like Shelley’s “Ooh,” she said again. “Did you leaves: yellow, red, brown, write tliat?” whipped in bright gusts by the “No, it’s by a better man than west wind. They swirled past me I.” with the rattle of microfilm. Al- “I don’t believe you. You wrote most all the books were recorded it.” now. It would take scholars years “No, a man named Rilke did.” to get through them, to properly “But you brought it across to assess their value. Mars w' my language. — Light another locked in my desk. match, so I can see how she Ecclesiastes, abandoned and danced.” returned to a dozen times, was al- I did. most ready to speak in the High “ ‘The fires of forever’,” she Tongue. mused, “and she stamped them I whistled when I wasn’t in the out, ‘with small, firm feet’. I wish Temple. I wrote reams of poetry I I could dance like that." would have been ashamed of be- “You’re better than any Gipsy,” fore. Evenings I would walk with I laughed, blowing it out. Braxa, across the dunes or up into “No, I’m not. I couldn’t do the mountains. Sometimes she that.” would dance for me; and I would Her cigarette was burning read something long, and in dac- down, so I removed it from her tylic hexameter. She still thought fingers and put it out, along with I was Rilke, and I almost kidded iny own. myself into believing it. Here I “Do you want me to dance for was, staying at the Castle Duino, you?” writing his Elegies. 24 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

... It is strange to inhabit the I had to ask. I didn’t want to, Earth no more, but I bad no choice. to use no longer customs scarce “Where is she, M’Cwyie? Where acquired, is Braxa?”

nor interpret roses . . , “She is gone,” she said. “Where?” No! Never interpret roses! Don’t. “I do not know.” Smell them (sniff, Kane!), pick I looked at those devil-bird them, enjoy them. Live in the eyes. Anathema maranatha rose moment. Hold to it tightly. But to my lijis. charge not the gods to explain. So “I must know.” fast the leaves go by, are blown . . . She looked through me. And no one ever noticed us. Or “She has left us. She is gone. cared. Up into the hills, I suppose. Or Laura. Laura and Braxa. They the desert. It does not matter. rhyme, you know, with a bit of a What does anything matter? The clash. Tall, cool, and blonde was dance draws to a close. The Tem- she (I hate blondes!), and Daddy ple will soon be empty.” had turned me inside out, like a “Why? Why did she leave?” (XK;ket, and I thought she could “I do not know.” fill me again. But the big, beat “I must see her again. We lift word-slinger, witli Judas-beard off in a matter of days.” and dog-trust in his eyes, oh, he “I am sorry, Gallinger.” had been a fine decoration at her “So am I,” I said, and slammed parties. And that was all. shut a book without saying “m’nar- How the machine cursed me in ra”. the Temple! It blasphemed Ma- I stood up. lann and Gallinger. And the wild “I will find her.” west wind went by and some- I left the Temple. M’Cwyie thing was not far behind. was a seated statue. My boots The last days were upon us. were still where I had left them.

A day went by and I did not see All day I roared up and down Braxa, and a night. the dunes, going novi'here. To And a second. A third. the crew of the Aspic I must have I was half-mad. I hadn’t real- looked like a sandstorm, all by ized how close we had become, myself. Finally, I had to return for how important she had been. more fuel. With the dumb assurance of pres- Emory came stalking out. ence, I had fought against ques- “Okay, make it good. You look tioning roses. like tlie abominable dust man. A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 25

Why the rodeo?” “That’s right,” I said, biting “Why, I, uh, lost something.” my tongue. “The watch belonged “In the middle of the desert? to her father and she wanted me Was it one of your sonnets? to have it. My father kept it for They’re the only thing I can think me.” of that you’d make such a fuss “Hmph!" he snorted. “That’s a over.” pretty strange way to look for a “No, dammit! It was some- watch, riding up and down in a thing personal.” jeepster.” George had finished filling the "I could see the light shining tank. I started to mount the jeep- off it that way,” I offered, lamely. ster again. “Well, it’s starting to get dark,” “Hold on there!” He grabbed he observed. “No sense looking my arm. any more today. “You’re not going back until “Throw a dust sheet over the you tell me what this is all about.” jeepster,” he directed a mechanic. I could have broken his grip, He patted my arm. but then he could order me “Come on in and get a shower, dragged back by the heels, and and something to eat. You look as quite a few people would enjoy if you could use both.” doing the dragging. So I forced Little fatty flecks beneath pale myself to speak slowly, softly: eyes, thinning hair, and an Irish “It’s simply that I lost my nose; a voice a decibel louder watch. My mother gave it to me than anyone else’s . . . and it’s a family heirloom. I want His only qualifications for to find it before we leave.” leadership!

“You sure it’s not in your cabin, I stood there, hating him. or down in Tirellian?” Claudius! If only this were tlie “I’ve already checked.” fifth act! “Maybe somebody hid it to irri- But suddenly the idea of a tate you. You know you’re not the shower, and food, came through to most popular guy around.” me. I could use both badly. If I I shook my head. insisted on hurrying back imme- “I thought of that. But I al- diately I might arouse more sus- ways carry it in my right pocket. picion.

I think it might have bounced out So I brushed some sand from going over the dunes.” my sleeve. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re right. That sounds like “I remember reading on a book a good idea.” jacket that your mother died “Come on, we’ll eat in my when you were born.” cabin.” 26 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

The shower was a blessing, to see that relations with the na- clean khakis were tire grace of tives are carried on in a friendly, God, and the food smelled like and diplomatic, manner.” Heaven. “You speak of them,” I said, “as "Smells pretty good,” I said. though they are aborigines. Notli- We hacked U2r our steaks in si- ing could be further from the lence. When we got to the dessert truth.” and coffee he suggested: I rose. “Why don’t you take the night “When my papers are pub- off? Stay here and get some lished everyone on Earth will sleep.” know that truth. I’ll tell them I shook my head. things Doctor Moore never even “I’m pretty busy. Finishing up. guessed at. I’ll tell the tragedy of There’s not much time left.” a doomed race, waiting for death, “A couple days ago you said you resigned and disinterested. I’ll tell were almost finished.” why, and it will break hard,

“Almost, but not quite.” scholarly hearts. I’ll write about “You also said they’ll be hold- it, and they will give me more ing a service in the Temple to- jDrizes, and this time I won’t night.” want them. “That’s right. I’m going to work “My God!” I exclaimed. “They in my room.” had a culture when our ancestors He shrugged his shoulders. were clubbing the sabre-tooth and Finally, he said, “Gallinger,” finding out how fire works!” and I looked up because my "Do you have a girl down name means trouble. there?” “It shouldn’t be any of my busi- “Yes!” I said. Yes, Claudius! ness,” he said, “but it is. Betty Yes, Daddy! Yes, Emory! “I do. says you have a girl down there.” But I’m going to let you in on a There was no question mark. scholarly scoop now. They’re al- It was a statement hanging in the ready dead. They’re sterile. In one air. Waiting. more generation there won’t be — Betty, you’re a bitch. You're any Martians.” a cow and a bitch. And a jealous I paused, then added, “Except one, at that. Why didn’t you keep in my papers, except on a few your nose where it belonged, shut pieces of microfilm and tape. And your eyes? Your mouth? in some poems, about a girl who “So?” I said, a statement with did give a damn and could only a question mark. bitch about the unfairness of it all "So,” he answered it, “it is my by dancing." duty, as head of this expedition, “Oh,” he said. A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 27

After awhile; “I’m sorry,” I said.

“You have been behaving dif- “Don’t be. Forget it. But,” he ferently these past couple months. shifted in his chair and looked at You’ve even been downright civil me, “if you do want to take her on occasion, you know. I couldn’t back with you — do it. It’ll mean help wondering what was hap- my neck, but I’m too old to ever pening. I didn’t know anything head another expedition like this mattered that strongly to you.” one. So go ahead.” I bowed my head. He gulped his cold coffee. "Is she the reason you were “Get your jeepster.” racing around the desert?” He swivelled die chair around. I nodded. I tried to say “thank you” “Why?” twice, but I couldn’t. So I got up I looked up. and walked out. “Because she’s out there, some- “Sayonara, and all that,” he where. I don’t know where, or muttered behind me. why. And I’ve got to find her be- fore we go.” “Here it is, Gallinger!” I heard “Oh,” he said again. a shout. Then he leaned back, opened a I turned on my heel and looked drawer, and took out something back up the ramp. wrapped in a towel. He unwound “Kane!” it. A framed photo of a woman He was limned in the port, lay on the table. shadow against light, but I had “My wife,” be said. heard him sniff. It was an attractive face, with I returned the few steps. big, almond eyes. “Here what is?” “I’m a Navy man, you know,” “Your rose.” he began. “Young officer once. He produced a plastic contain- Met her in Japan. er, divided internally. The lower “Where I come from it wasn’t half was filled with liquid. The considered right to marry into an- stem ran down into it. The other other race, so we never did. But half, a glass of claret in this hor- she was my wife. When she died rible night, was a large, newly- I was on the other side of the opened rose. world. They took my children, "Thank you,” I said, tucking it and I’ve never seen them since. I into my jacket. couldn’t learn what orphanage, “Going back to Tirellian, eh?” what home, they were put into. “Yes.” That was long ago. Very few peo- “I saw you come aboard, so I ple know about it.” got it ready. Just missed you at the 28 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

Captain’s cabin. He was busy. really hate your people this much? Hollered out that I could catch Then I’ll try someone else. Vish- you at the barns.” nu, you’re the Preserver. Preserve “Thanks again.” her, please! Let me find her. “It’s chemically treated. It will Jehovah? stay in bloom for weeks.” Adonis? Osiris? Thammuz? I nodded. I was gone. Manitou? Legba? Where is she? I ranged far and high, and I Up into the mountains now. slipped. Far. Far. The sky was a bucket of Stones ground underfoot and I ice in which no moons floated. dangled over an edge. My fingers The going became steeper, and so cold. It was hard to grip the the little donkey protested. I rock. whipped him with the throttle I looked down. and went on. Up. Up. I spotted a Twelve feet or so. I let go and green, unwinking star, and felt a dropped, landed rolling. lump in my throat. The encased Then I heard her scream. rose beat against my chest like an extra heart. The donkey brayed, I lay there, not moving, look long and loudly, then began to ing up. Against the night, above, cough. I lashed him some more she called. and he died. “Gallinger!” I threw the emergency brake on I lay sdll. and got out. I began to walk. "Gallinger!” So cold, so cold it grows. Up And she was gone. here. At night? Why? Why did I heard stones rattle and knew she do it? Why flee the campfire she was coming down some path when night comes on? to the right of me. And I was up, down around, I jumped up and ducked into and through every chasm, gorge, the shadow of a boulder. and pass, with my long-legged She rounded a cut-off, and strides and an ease of movement picked her way, uncertainly, never known on Earth. through the stones. Barely two days remain, my “Gallinger?” love, and thou hast forsaken me. I stepped out and seized her Why? shoulders. I crawled under overhangs. I “Braxa.” leapt over ridges. I scraped my She screamed again, then be- knees, an elbow. I heard my jacket gan to cry, crowding against me. tear. It was the first time I had ever No answer, Malann? Do you heard her cry. ”

A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 29

“Why?” I asked. “Why?” were affected, which was enough.

But she only clung to me and . . . Because I —wasn’t— affected sobbed. —apparently — Finally, “I thought you had “Oh,” I said. “Oh.” killed yourself.” We stood there, and I thought. “Maybe I would have,” I said. “Well, why did you runi “Why did you leave Tirellian? What’s wrong with being preg- And me?” nant on Mars? Tamur was mis- “Didn’t M’Cwyie tell you? taken. Your people can live again.’' Didn’t you guess?” She laughed, again that wild “I didn’t guess, and M’Cwyie violin played by a Paginini gone said she didn’t know.” mad. I stopped her before it went “Then she lied. She knows.” too far. “What? What is it she knows?” “How?” she finally asked, rub- She shook all over, then was si- bing her cheek. lent for a long time. I realized “Your people live longer than suddenly that she was wearing ours. If our child is normal it will only her flimsy dancer’s costume. mean our races can intermarry. I pushed her from me, took off my There must still be other fertile jacket, and put it about her women of your race. Why not?” shoulders. “You have read the Book of “Great Malann!” I cried. Locar,” she said, “and yet you ask “You’ll freeze to death!” me that? Death was decided, "No,” she said, “I won’t.” voted upon, and passed, shortly I was transferring the rose-case after it appeared in this form. But to my pocket. long before, the followers of Locar “VVhat is that?” she asked. Icnew. They decided it long ago. “A rose,” I answered. “You ‘We have done all things,’ they can’t make it out much in the said, ‘we have seen all things, we dark. I once compared you to have heard and felt all things. one. Remember?” The dance was good. Now let it ” “Yu-Yes. May I carry it?” end.’ “Sure.” I stuck it in the jacket “You can’t believe that.” pocket. “What I believe does not mat- “Well? I’m still waiting for an ter,” she replied. “M’Cwyie and explanation.” the Mothers have decided we "You really do not know?” she must die. Their very title is now a asked. mockery, but their decisions will “No!” be upheld. There is only one “When the Rains came,” she prophecy left, and it is mistaken. said, "apparently only our men We will die.” 30 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

"No,” I said. The Madonna-expression did “What, then?” not change. I repeated the ques- “Come back with me, to Earth.” tion. She stirred. “No.” “Yes,” she said, from a dis- “All right, then. Come with me tance, “but you cannot go in.” now.” “We’ll see.” “Where?” I circled and helped her down. “Back to Tirellian. I’m going to I led her by the hand, and she talk to the Mothers.” moved as if in a trance. In the “You can’t! There is a Ceremony light of the new-risen moon, her tonight!” eyes looked as they had the day I laughed. I met her, when she had danced. “A ceremony for a god who I snapped my fingers. Nothing knocks you clown, and then kicks happened. you in the teeth?” So I pushed the door open and “He is still Malann,” she an- led her in. The room was half- swered. “We are still his people.” lighted. “You and my fatlier would have And she screamed for the third gotten along fine,” I snarled. “But time that evening: I am going, and you are coming “Do not harm him, Ontro! It is with me, even if I have to carry Gallinger!” you —and I’m bigger than you I had never seen a Martian man are.” before, only women. So I had no “But you are not bigger than way of knowing whether he was a

Ontro.” freak, tliough I suspected it “Wlio the hell is Ontro?” strongly. “He will stop you, Gallinger. I looked up at him. He is the Fist of Malann.” His half-naked body was cov- ered with moles and swellings. IV. Gland trouble, I guessed. I had thought I was the tallest - I scudded the jeepster to a halt man on the planet, but he was in front of the only entrance I seven feet tall and overweight. knew, M’Cwyie’s. Braxa, who had Now I knew where my giant bed seen the rose in a headlamp, now had come from! cradled it in her lap, like our “Go back,” he said. “She may child, and said nothing. There enter. You may not.” was a passive, lovely look on her “I must get my books and face. things.” “Are they in the Temple now?” He raised a huge left arm. I I wanted to Icnow. followed it. All my belongings A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 31 lay neatly stacked in the comer. around you or go over you, but I "I must go in. I must talk with am going through.” M’Cwyie and the Mothers.” He dropped into a croueh, “You may not.” arms extended. “The lives of your people de- “It is a sin to lay hands on a pend on it.” holy man,” he rumbled, “but I “Go back, he boomed. “Go will stop you, Gallinger.” home to your people, Gallinger. My memory was a fogged win- Leave usl" dow, suddenly exposed to fresh My name sounded so different air. Things cleared. I looked back on his lips, like someone else’s. six years. How old was he? I wondered. I was a student of Oriental Three hundred? Four? Had he Languages at the University of been a Temple guardian all his Tokyo. It was my twice-weekly life? Why? Who was there to night of recreation. I stood in a guard against? I didn’t like the 30-feot circle in the Kodokan, the way he moved. I had seen men judogi lashed about my high hips who moved like that before. by a brown belt. I was Ik-kyu, one “Go back,” he repeated. notch below the lowest degree of If they had refined their mar- expert. A brown diamond above tial arts as far as they had their my right breast said ‘Jiu-Jitsu’ in dances, or, worse yet, if their Japanese, and it meant atemi- fighting arts were a part of the waza, really, because of the one dance, I was in for trouble. striking-technique I had worked “Go on in,” I said to Braxa. out, found unbelievably suitable “Give the rose to M’Cwyie. Tell to my size, and won matches with. her that I sent it. Tell her I’ll be But I had never used it on a there shortly.” man, and it was five years since I “I will do as you ask. Remem- had practiced. I was out of shape, ber me on Earth, Gallinger. Good- I knew, but I tried hard to force bye.” my mind tsuki no kokoro, like the I did not answer her, and she moon, reflecting the all of Ontro. walked past Ontro and into the Somewhere, out of the past, a next room, bearing her rose. voice said, "Hafime, let it begin.” “Now will you leave?” he I snapped into my neko-ashi- asked. “If you like, I will tell her dachi cat-stance, and his eyes that we fought and you almost burned strangely. He hurried to beat me, but I knocked you un- correct his own position — and I conscious and carried you back to threw It at him! your ship.” My one trick! “No,” I said, “either I go My long left leg lashed up like — —

32 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION a broken spring. Seven feet off He lay there panting, face con- the ground my foot connected torted. My heart went out to the with his jaw as he tried to leap fallen giant, defending his peo- backward. ple, his religion, following his His head snapped back and he orders. I cursed myself as I had fell. A soft moan escaped his lips. never cursed before, for walking That’s all there is to it, I thought. over him, instead of around. Sorry, old fellow. I staggered across the room to And as I stepped over him, my little heap of possessions. I sat somehow, groggily, he tripped me, on the projector case and lit a and I fell across his body. I cigarette. couldn’t believe he had strength I couldn’t go into the Temple enough to remain conscious after until I got my breath back, until that blow, let alone move. I hated I thought of something to say? to punish him any more. How do you talk a race out of But he found my throat and killing itself? slipped a forearm across it before Suddenly I raized there was a purpose to —Could it happen? Would it his action. work diat way? If I read them the No/ Don’t let it end like tkisl Book of Ecclesiastes— if I read It was a bar of steel across my them a greater piece of literature windpipe, my carotids. Then I than any Locar ever wrote— and realized that he was stiU uncon- as somber— and as pessimistic scious, and that this was a reflex and showed them that our race instilled by countless years of had gone on despite one man’s training. I had seen it happen condemning all of life in the once, in shiai. The man had died highest poetry — showed them that because he had been choked un- the vanity he had mocked had conscious and still fought on, and borne us to the Heavens—would his opponent thought he had not they believe it? —would they been applying the choke properly. change their minds? He tried harder. I ground out my cigarette on But it was rare, so very rare! the beautiful floor, and found my I jammed my elbows into his notebook. A strange fury rose ribs and threw my head back in his within me as I stood. face. The grip eased, but not And I walked into the Temple enough. I hated to do it, but I to preach the Black Gospel ac- reached up and broke his httle cording to Gallinger, from the finger. Book of Life. The arm went loose and I twisted free. There was silence all about me. —

A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 33

M’Cwyie had been reading Lo- can mate with the men of Earth. car, the rose set at her right hand, “And ours is not an insignifi- target of all eyes. cant people, an insignificant Until I entered. place,” I went on. “Thousands of Hundreds of people were seated years ago, the Locar of our world on the floor, barefoot. The few wrote a book saying that it was. men were as small as the women, He spoke as Locar did, but we did I noted. not lie down, despite plagues, I had my boots on. wars, and famines. We did not Go all the way, I figured. Yom die. One by one we beat down the either lose or you win — every- diseases, we fed the hungry, we thing! fought the wars, and, recently, A dozen crones sat in a semi- have gone a long time without circle behind M’Cwyie. The them. We may finally have con- Mothers. quered them. I do not know. The barren earth, the dry “But we have crossed millions wombs, the fire-touched. of miles of nothingness. We have I moved to the table. visited another world. And our “Dying yourselves, you would Locar had said, ‘Why bother? condemn your people,” I ad- What is the worth of it? It is all dressed them, "that Aey may not vanity, anyhow.' know the life you have known “And the secret is,” I lowered the joys, the sorrows, the fullness. my voice, as at a poetry reading, — But it is not true that you all “he was right! It is vanity, it is must die.” I addressed the multi- pride! It is the hybris of ration- tude now. "Those who say this he. alism to always attack the proph- Braxa knows, for she will bear a et, the mystic, the god. It is our child—” / blasphemy which has made us They sat there, hke rows of great, and will sustain us, and Buddhas. M’Cwyie drew back which the gods secretly admire in into the semicircle. us. — All tlie truly sacred names “ —my child!” I continued, of God are blasphemous things to wondering what my father would speak!” have thought of this sermon. I was working up a sweat. 1 “. . . And all the women young paused dizzily. enough may bear children. It is “Here is the Book of Ecclesi- only your men who are sterile. astes,” I announced, and began: " And if you permit the doctors of ‘Vanity of vanities, saith the the next expedition to examine Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is you, perhaps even the men may be vanity. What profit hath a helped. But if they cannot, you man . , 34 FANTASY .AND SCIENCE FICTION

I spotted Braxa in the back, It lit my last cigarette. mute, rapt. Finally, “All right, what I wondered what she was prophecy?” thinking. “The Promise of Locar,” she And I wound the hours o£ replied, as though the explaining night about me, like black thread were unnecessary, “that a holy on a spool. man would come from the heav- ens to save us in our last hours, if Oh it was late! I had spoken till aU the dances of Locar were com- day came, and still I spoke. I fin- pleted. He would defeat the Fist ished Ecclesiastes and continued of Malann and bring us life.” GaUinger. “How?” And when I finished there was “As with Braxa, and as the ex- still only a silence. ample in the Temple.” The Buddhas, all in a row, had “Example?” not stirred through the niglit. And “You read us his words, as after a long while M’Cwyie raised great as Locar’s. You read to us her right hand. One by one the how there is ‘nothing new under Mothers did the same. the sun’. And you mocked his And I knew what tliat meant. words as you read them —show- It meant no, do not, cease, and ing us a new thing. stop. “There has never been a flower It meant that I had failed. on Mars,” she said, “but we will I walked slowly from the room learn to grow’ them. and slumped beside my baggage. “You are the Sacred Scoffer,” Ontro was gone. Good that I she finished. “He-\Vho-Must-Mock had not killed him . . . in-the-Temple—you go shod on After a tliousand years M’Cwyie holy ground.” entered. “But you voted ‘no’,” I said. She said, “Your job is finished.” “I voted not to carry out our I did not move. original plan, and to let Braxa’s “The prophecy is fulfilled,” she child live instead.” said. “My people are rejoicing. “Oh.” The cigarette fell from You have won, holy man. Now my fingers. How close it had been! leave us quickly.” How little I had known! My mind was a deflated bal- “And Braxa?” loon. I pumped a little air back “She was chosen half a Process into it. ago to do tlie dances— to wait for “I’m not a holy man,” I said, you.” “just a second-rate poet witli a “But she said that Ontro would bad case of hybris.” stop me.” A ROSE FOR ECCLESIASTES 35

M’Cwyie stood there for a long I stood, like a drunken man, time. and muttered “M’narra.” “She had never believed the I went outside, into my last prophecy herself. Things are not day on Mars. well with her now'. She ran away, I have conquered thee, Ma- fearing it was true. When you lann —and the victory is thine! completed it and we voted, she Rest easy on thy starry bed. God knew.” damned! “Then she does not love me? 1 left die jeepster there and Never did?” walked back to the Aspic, leaving “I am sorry, Gallinger. It was the burden of life so many foot- the one part of her duty she never steps behind me. I w'ent to my managed.” cabin, locked the door, and took

“Duty,” I said flatly. . . . Duty- forty-four sleeping pills. dutyduth! Tra-la! “She has said good-bye, she But when I awakened I was in does not wish to see you again. the dispensary, and alive. “. . . and we will never forget I felt the throb of engines as I your teachings,” she added. slowly stood up and somehow “Don’t,” I said, automatically, made it to the port. suddenly knowing the great para- Blurred Mars hung like a dox which lies at the heart of all swollen belly above me, until it miracles. I did not believe a word dissolved, brimmed over, and of my own gospel, never had. streamed down my face.

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City Zone State Sometimes one sees in the eyes of infants an expression preter- naturally old and knowing; generally, this disappears soon

enough. Was it an illusion? Something purely metabolic? Or have

they . . . well . . . forgotten? Philip Winsor (Harvardman, ex- artilleryman, M.A. (Columbia), college textbook editor for a na- tional publishing company) has evidently considered this ques- tion, and has come up with one possible answer. MAMA

by Philip Winsor

When I have a pain and weep, had real pain; I could not pretend. she comes and feels my head; then She is very astute about some she brings the bottle and takes two things; she knows when my weep- pills out of it, and feeds them to ing comes of pain and when it me. The first time I saw them I comes of this vile need of mine for stared at them; tliey were so like her. But now my head aches and myself as I was then — pink, I have cried out to her; she has round, and blank; and even now answered, “I’m coming!” I stare at them, though I am no It is through her desire that I longer so pink as they are, and my should speak that I shall get the hands and feet extend somewhat pills. She kneels beside me as I farther out from me. And I wonder stand at the bars of my crib; she — for she holds the bottle with says “Mama! Darling, I’m your such foreboding, she is so careful Mama! Say ‘Mama!’ ” But of all not to leave it within my reach : if words that is the most impossible two of the pills will relieve pain, for me to say. Then she holds my what would the whole bottle do? toys up before me, one after an- In a whole bottle I might find other, and pronounces their release, from these bars and from names: “Ball! Pretty ball! Ted- this soft integument. 1 want her to dy!” I could easily repeat these leave the battle with me, that my words to her, but to speak is to hands fumbling may in time re- consent to these degrading cir- move the top, and I have long had cumstances, to plunge further- a plan. I have had to wait until I doM'n this fearful shaft.

36 — —

MAMA 37

I have spoken, once; I have at- stand a word Fm saying, but we’ll tempted my plan once before. I always be with you and we love wept; she came to me, she took out you and you understand thati" the bottle. I cried out to her: “Hi!” I am sure when she says “love” — it is the word least like a word, she is speaking of the pitiful de- most like a sound. She whirled pendency which relates flesh to my plan demands that I surprise other flesh. It is a repellent thing, her; she flung the bottle, but not but I am not wholly apart from it; within my reach, as I had hoped; her words affect me strangely. She it rolled a distance away from the would hinder my release if she crib. And she threw herself down could; she would retain me in hu- beside me. “What did you say, manity. This crib has bars, these darling?” I had failed, I spoke no walls meet the ceiling; only pain more. But in saying that one word has no end here. But I think she I knew I had done myself dam- has no understanding of this. And age. Once it was out it took exist- then I feel her tears. ence apart from me; it drew me “Well, darling, this is how it is; towards itself and away from my there must be some pui'iwse to it; memory of what was before. I we’re going to do our best!” Her think I have only one more words confound the truth I brought chance; to speak again and to fail with me here, the tnitli which I would leave me helpless. But the have already forgotten somewhat word will not be “Mama”— to say but shall soon regain. “Purpose! that word would be especially Our best!” It is strange to me here to acknowledge this fraudulent how I hurl incongruities from me passage where one is afflicted with a special breaking noise with shape. and she kisses me and says, “Life

I stand at the bars of my crib, I is absurd, isn’t it, sweetheart!” but take steps across the floor to her, I she pats my back for gas. try to feed myself when she gives I do not understand. Nothing me the spoon, but I do not speak. here is like what was before, ex- She picks me up and holds me cept the sky out the window and against her and talks to me, and the rustling of the trees, and, at then I know what she’s saying al- times, her face. I remember that, most as if I understood the words before, there were no bars, only —“Darling boy, I don’t know balance—and then suddenly a what’s wrong, but listen to me: I rushing came, and all about me love you, no matter if you never strained, all bowed, and through- say a word all your life; and we’ll out awareness rang the cry: “Hu- never let you be hurt if we can help manity!” What severance and it, and I know you don’t under- compression were to be sensed in 38 FANWSY AND SCIENCE FICTION that word! And then there was an ticking I draw in with my breath. I, myself, snatched in strands Its hands steadily circle its face, from the knowing space, a throb- and that is of importanee to her; bing cluster hung doubled in I do not understand. But it tells me warmth and dark; and from be- that just as this room has walls, the yond there was pounded to me spell of flesh has its term. through my blood the command: “What’s wrong with you, dar- "Forget! Forget!” ling?” She has come now. She And the time came when the feels my forehead, leaves, and re- constriction about me increased in turns witli the pills in her hand. sharp waves. The force of these This time I must not fail. She is so waves dislodged me, and each suc- concerned! I cannot help but feel ceeding wave as it intensified tenderness for her; I shall not see pushed me. And slowly I emerged her again. And I have an impulse into light and into these circum- — is it to further my plan by saying stances. I do not understand. Here the word which will most surprise I am rolled in my own warm stink her? Or is it that as I look at her I until she comes to clean me : “You feel diat now my release is close I don’t like being wet, do you, dar- can at last do a kindness for her? I ling?” Yet I know' as I look at her, say, “Hi, Mama!” She gasps, she bending over me with a pin in her throws herself down on her knees mouth, that if I could forget I beside me, and the bottle flies would think she was precious. from her bands into my crib and I cannot forget, though surely is hidden from her under my blan- to forget enables you to live here. ket. But in my head all is turbu- I think I am unlike others in this; lence. The word I have uttered is I think the command: "Forget!” enormously powerful: it exerts a came too weakly to me to impel propulsion I cannot understand. I me to obey, as it compelled others. am stunned, I say again, “Mama!” Another creature with an appear- — for she is lovely! How large, ance similar to mine was once put how' light is this room! —Did I not into this crib with me, and I saw until this moment have a sense of no sign in his face of any such things previous? I can remember awareness as mine. He had forgot- notliing. I pick up the bottle, full ten. He gurgled his consent to of the pretty pills, and give it to flesh and with curiosity he put his her; I raise my arms to her and cry: finger in my eye. "Hi, Mama! Pretty! Wet! Hi, Ma- But the thing most alien to me ma! Ball! Teddy! Mama! Mama! is the round face on the wall whose Hi, Mama!” M SCIENCE

There are some who wiU see in this article an arrangement of historical significance in the realm of The Twenty Gases. What’s that? which twenty, where twenty? Go thou and learn. Others, alas, will merely suspect SF’s most outstanding teetotaler of trying

to fluoridate their whiskey. Sic friat crispudum. . . . WELCOME, STRANGER!

by Isaac Asimov

There are fashions in science as in everything else. Con- duct an experiment that brings about an unusual success and before you can say, "There are a dozen imitations!” there are a dozen imitations! Consider the element, xenon (pronounced zee’non). It was discov- ered in 1898 by William Ramsay and Morris William Travers, THE ELEMENT OF PERFECTION (F & SF, November, 1960). Like other elements of the same type it was isolated from liquid air. ITie existence of these elements in air had remained unsuspected through over a century of ardent chemical analysis of the air so when they finally dawned upon the chemical con.sciousness, they were greeted as strange and unexpected newcomers. Indeed, the name, xenon, is the neutral form of the Greek word for "strange”, so that xenon is “the strange one” in all literalness. Xenon belongs to a group of elements commonly known as the “inert gases” (because they are chemically inert) or the “rare gases” (because they are rare), or “noble gases” because the standoffishness that results from chemical inertness seems to indicate a haughty sense of self-im- portance.

Xenon is the most rare of the stable inert gases and, as a matter of fact, is the most rare of all the stable elements on Earth. Xenon occurs only in the atmosphere and there it makes up about 5.3 parts per mil- lion by weight. Since the atmosphere weighs about 5,500,000,000,- 000,000 (five and a half quadrillion) tons, this means that the plane- tary supply of xenon comes to just about 30,000,000,000 (thirty bil- lion) tons. This seems ample, taken in full, but picking xenon atoms

39 40 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

out of the overpoweringly more common constituents of the atmosphere i

is an arduous task and so xenon isn't a common substance and never j will be. What with one thing and another, then, xenon was not a popular substance in the chemical laboratories. Its chemical, physical and nu- clear properties were worked out, but beyond that there seemed little

worth doing with it. It remained the little strange one and received cold shoulders and frosty smiles. Then, in 1962, an unusual experiment involving xenon was an- nounced and from all over the world, broad smiles broke out across chemical countenances, and little xenon was led into the test-tube with friendly solicitude. “Welcome, stranger!” w'as the cry everyivhere, and now you can’t open a chemical journal anywhere without finding several papers on xenon. What happened? If you expect a quick answer, you little know me. Let me take my customary route round Robin Hood’s barn and begin by stating, first of all, that xenon is a gas.

Being a gas is a matter of accident. No substance is a gas intrinsically, but only insofar as temperature dictates. On Venus, water and am- monia are both gases. On Earth, ammonia is a gas, but water is not. On Titan, neither ammonia nor water are gases.

So I’ll have to set up an arbitrary criterion to suit my present pur- pose. Let’s say that any substance that remains a gas at — 100° C. C — 148° F) is a Gas with a capital letter, and concentrate on those. This is a temperature that is never reached on Earth, even in an Ant- arctic winter of extraordinary severity so that no Gas is ever anything but gaseous on Earth (except occasionally in chemical laboratories). Now why is a Gas a Gas? I can start by saying that every substance is made up of atoms, or of closely-knit groups of atoms, said groups being called molecules. There are attractive forces between atoms or molecules which make them “sticky” and tend to hold them together. Heat, however, lends these atoms or molecules a certain kinetic energy (energy of motion) which tends to drive them apart, since each atom or molecule has its own * idea of where it wants to go.

*No, 1 am not implying that atoms know what they are doing and have conscious- ness. This is just my teleological way of talking. Teleology is forbidden in scientific articles, but it so happens I enjoy sin. WELCOME, stranger! 41

The attractive forces among a given set of atoms or molecules are relatively constant, but the kinetic energy varies with the temperature. Therefore, if the temperature is raised high enough, any group of atoms or moleeules will fly apart and the material will become a gas. At tem- peratures over 6000° C. all known substances are gases. Of course, there are only a few exceptional substances with intera- tomic or intermolecular forces so strong that it takes 6000° C. to over- come them (they’re for another article some day perhaps). Some sub- stances have such weak intermolecular attractive forces that the warmth of a summer day supplies enough kinetic energy to convert them to gas (the common anesthetic, ether, is an example). Still others have intermolecular attractive forces so much weaker still that there is enough heat at a temperature of — 100° C. to keep them gases and it is these that are the Gases I am talking about. The intermolecular or interatomic forces arise out of the distribution of electrons within the atoms or molecules. The electrons are distributed among various "electron shells,” according to a system we can accept without detailed explanation. For instance, the aluminum atom con- tains 13 electrons, which are distributed as follows: 2 in the innermost shell, 8 in the next shell and 3 in the next shell. We can therefore signify the electron distribution in the aluminum atom as 2/8/3. The most stable and symmetrical distribution of the electrons among the electron shells is that distribution in which the outermost shell holds either all the electrons it can hold, or 8 electrons —whichever is less. The innermost electron shell can only hold 2, the next can hold 8 and each of the rest can hold more than 8. Except for the situation where only the innermost shell contains electrons, then, the stable situ- ation consists of 8 electrons in the outermost shell. There are exactly six elements known, in which this situation of maximum stability exists; f

Electron Electron Element Symbol distribution total

heliiun He 2 2 neon Ne 2/8 10 argon Ar 2/8/8 18 krypton Kr 2/8/18/8 36 xenon Xe 2/8/18/18/8 54 radon Rn 2/8/18/32/18/8 86 42 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

Other atoms without this fortunate electronic distribution are forced to attempt to achieve it by grabbing additional electrons, or getting rid of some they already possess, or sharing electrons. In so doing, they undergo chemical reactions. The atoms of the six elements listed above, however, need do nothing of this sort and are sufficient unto themselves. They have no need to shift electrons in any way and that means they take part in no chemical reactions and are inert. (At least, this is what I would have said prior to 1962.) The atoms of the inert gas family listed above are so self-sufficient in fact that the atoms even ignore one another. There is little interatomic attraction so that all are gases at room temperature and all but radon are Gases. To be sure there is some interatomic attraction (for no atoms or molecules exist among which there is no attraction at all). If one lowers the temperature sufficiently, a point is reached where the attractive forces become dominant over the disruptive effect of kinetic energy, and every single one of the inert gases will, eventually, become an inert liquid.

What about other elements? As I said, these have atoms with elec- tron distributions of less than maximum stability and each has a ten- dency to alter that distribution in the direction of stability. For in- stance, the sodium atom (Na) has a distribution, 2/8/1. If it could get rid of the outermost electron, what would be left would have the stable 2/8 configuration of neon. Again, the chlorine atom (Cl) has a distribution, 2/8/7. If it could gain an electron, it would have the 2/8/8 distribution of argon. Consequently, if a sodium atom encounters a chlorine atom, the transfer of an electron from the sodium atom to the chlorine atom satisfies both. However, the loss of a negatively-charged electron, leaves the sodium atom with a deficiency of negative charge or, which is the same thing, an excess of positive charge. It becomes a positively charged sodium ion (Na+). The chlorine atom, on the other hand, gaining an electron, gains an excess of negative charge and becomes a nega- tively-charged chloride ion’^ (Cl — ).

Opposite charges attract, so the sodium ion attracts all the chloride ions within reach and vice versa. These strong attractions cannot be overcome by the kinetic energy induced at ordinary temperatures and

*The charged chlorine atom is called “chloride ion" and not “chlorine ion" as a convention of chemical nomenclature we might just as well accept with a weary sigh. Anyway, the “d" is not a typographical error. WELCOME, stranger! 43 so the ions hold together firmly enough for "sodium chloride” Ccom- mon salt) to be a solid. It does not become a gas, in fact, till a tem- perature of 1413° C. is reached. Next consider the carbon atom (C). Its electron distribution is 2/4. If it lost 4 electrons, it would gain the 2 helium configuration; if it gained 4 electrons, it would gain the 2/8 neon configuration. Losing or gaining that many electrons is not easy, so the carbon atom shares electrons instead. It can, for instance, contribute one of its electrons to a “shared pool” of two electrons; a pool to which a neighboring car- bon atom also contributes an electron. With its second electron it can form another shared pool with a second neighbor and with its third and fourth, two nH>re pools with two more neighbors. Each neighbor can set up additional pools with other neighbors. In the way, every carbon atom is surrounded by four other carbon atoms.

These shared electrons fit into the outermost electron shells of both the carbon atoms that contribute. Each carbon atom has 4 electrons of its own in tliat outermost shell and 4 electrons contributed Cone apiece) by four neighbors. Thus, each carbon atom has the 2/8 con- figuration of neon, but only at the price of remaining close to its neigh- bors. The result is a strong interatomic attraction, even though elec- trical charge is not involved. Carbon is a solid and is not a gas untU a temperature of 4200° C. is reached. The atoms of metallic elements also stick together strongly, for similar reasons, so that tungsten, for instance, is not a gas until a tem- perature of 5900° C. is reached. We cannot, then, expect to have a Gas, when atoms achieve stable electron distribution by transferring electrons in such a manner as to gain an electric charge; or by sharing electrons in so complicated a fashion that vast numbers of atoms stick together in one piece. What we need is something intermediate. We need a situation where atoms achieve stability by sharing electrons (so that no electric charge arises) but where the total number of atoms involved in the sharing is very small so that only small molecules result. Within the molecules, at- tractive forces may be large, and the molecules may not be shaken apart without extreme temperature. The attractive forces between one molecule and its neighbor, however, may be small —and that wiU do.

Let’s consider the hydrogen atom, for instance. It has but a single electron. Two hydrogen atoms can each contribute its single electron to form a shared pool. As long as they stay together, each can count both electrons in its outermost shell and each will have the stable belt* 44 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION um configuration. Furtliennore, neither hydrogen atom will have any electrons left to form pools with other neighbors, hence the molecule will end there. Hydrogen gas will consist of two-atom molecules (HO. The attractive force between the atoms in the molecule is large and it takes temperatures of more than 2000° C. to shake even a small frac- tion of the hydrogen molecules into single atoms. There wiR, how- ever, be only weak attractions among separate hydrogen molecules, each of which, under the new arrangement, will have reached a satisfactory pitch of self-sufiiciency. Hydrogen, therefore, will be a Gas; one not made up of separate atoms as is the case with the inert gases, but of two- atom molecules. Something similar will be true in the case of fluorine (electronic dis- tribution 2/7), oxygen (2/6) and nitrogen (2/5). The fluorine atom can contribute an electron and form a shared pool of two electrons with a neighboring fluorine atom which also contributes an electron.

Two ox 3'gen atoms can contribute two electrons apiece to form a shared pool of four electrons’^ and two nitrogen atoms can contribute three electrons each and form a shared pool of six electrons.

In each case, the atoms will achieve the 2/8 distribution of neon at the cost of forming paired molecules. As a result, enough stability is achieved so that fluorine (F*), oxygen (Oj) and nitrogen (Ns) are all Gases. Tlie oxygen atom can also form a shared pool of two electrons with each of two neighbors and those two neighbors can form another shared pool of two electrons among themselves. The result is a combination of three oxygen atoms (Os), each with a neon configuration. This com- bination, Os, is called ozone, and it is a Gas, too. Oxygen, nitrogen, and fluorine can form mixed molecules, also. For instance, a nitrogen and an oxygen atom can combine to achieve the necessary stability for each. Nitrogen may also form shared pools of two electrons with each of three fluorine atoms, while oxygen may do so with each of two. The resulting compounds: nitrogen oxide (NO), nitrogen trifluoride (NF,) and oxygen difluoride (OFa) are all Gases. Atoms which, by tliemselves, will not form Gases, may do so if com- bined with either hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen or fluorine. For instance, two chlorine atoms (2/8/7, remember) will form a shared pool of two

* Actually, the neat picture of shared pools which I present is somewhat over- simplified. It falls a hit short in the case of oxygen and a couple of others I will mention, but this need not concern us. We are close enough. I mention it only to forestall letters. :

WELCOME, stranger! 45

electrons so that both achieve the 2/8/8 argon configuration. Chlorine (CL) is therefore a gas at room temperature; with intermolecular at- tractions, however, large enough to keep it from being a Gas. Yet if a chlorine atom forms a sliared pool of two electrons with a fluorine atom, the result, chlorine fluoride (CIF) is a Gas. The boron atom (2/3) can form a shared pool of two electrons with each of three fluorine atoms and the carbon atom a shared pool of two electrons with each of four fluorine atoms. The resulting compounds, boron trifluoridc (BFO and carbon tetrafluoride (CF4) are Gases. A carbon atom can form a shared pool of two electrons with each of four hydrogen atoms, or a shared pool of four electrons with an ox)'gen atom and the resulting compounds, methane (CHi) and carbon mon- oxide (CO) are gases. A two-carbon combination may set up a shared pool of two electrons with each of four hydrogen atoms (and a shared pool of four electrons with one another); a silicon atom may set up a shared pool of two electrons with each of four hydrogen atoms. The compounds, ethylene (C^H,) and silane (SiH4) are Gases. Altogether, then, I can list 20 Gases, which fall into the following categories

( 1 ) Five elements made up of single atoms; helium, neon, argon, krypton, and xenon. (2) Four elements made up of two-atom molecules: hydrogen, nitro- gen, oxygen and fluorine.

( 3 ) One element made up of three-atom molecules : ozone. (4) Ten compounds, with molecules huilt up of two different ele- ments, at least one of which falls into category (2). As far as I know, nobody has ever gathered these Gases into a single table, so I will gladly do it for the convenience of anyone who may find it convenient. I wiU list them in order of increasing boiling point and will give that boiling point both in the Centigrade scale (°C) and in the absolute scale, (°K.)*, see Table I. If any Gentle Reader, by the way, knows of a twenty-first Gas, or a twenty-second, a hventy-third and so on, I would love to hear of it.

The five inert gases on the list are scattered among the fifteen other G^ses. To he sure, two of the three low'est-boiling Gases are helium and neon, but argon is seventh, krypton is tenth, and xenon is seventeenth. It would not be surprising if all the Gases, then, were as inert as the inert gases.

"Tor a discussion of the various temperature scales, see my article THE HEIGHT OF VP (F V SF, October 1959) 46 FANTASY AND SCIBN(^ FICTION

TABLE I

The Twenty Gases

Substanee Formula B.P. (C’^) B.P. (K®, Helium He -268.9 4.2 Hydrogen H» -252.8 20.3 Neon Ne -245.9 27.2 Nitrogen Na -195.8 77.3 Carbon Monoxide CO — 192 81 Fluorine F, -188 85 Argon Ar -185.7 87.4 Oxygen O, — 183.0 90.1 Methane CH* — 161.5 111.6 Krypton Kr — 152.9 120.2 Nitrogen Oxide NO —151.8 121.3 Oxygen Difluoride OF, — 144.8 128.3 Carbon Tetrafluoridc CR — 128 145 Nitrogen Trifluoride NF. — 120 153 Ozone Oa — 111.9 161.2 Silane SiH. — 111.8 161.3 Xenon Xe — 107.1 166.0 Ethylene GH. -103.9 169.2 Boron trifluoride BF, — 101 172 Chlorine fluoride CIF — 100.8 172.3-

Perhaps they might be at that, if the smug, self-sufficient molecules that made them up were permanent, unbreakable affairs, but they are not. All the molecules can be broken down under certain conditions and the free atoms (those of fluorine and oxygen particularly) are ac- tive indeed. This does not show up in the Gases themselves. Suppose a fluorine molecule breaks up into two fluorine atoms and these find themselves surrounded only by fluorine molecules. The only possible result is the WELCOME, stranger! 47

re-formation of a fluorine molecule and nothing much has happened. If, however, there are molecules other than fluorine present, a new molecular combination of greater stability than Fj is possible (indeed almost certain in the case of fluorine) and a chemical reaction results. The fluorine molecule does have a tendency to break apart (to a very small extent) even at ordinary temperatures, and this is enough. The free fluorine atom will attack virtually anything non-fluorine in sight and the heat of reaction will raise the temperature which will bring about a more extensive split in fluorine molecules and so on. The result is that molecular fluorine is the most chemically active of all substances (with chlorine fluoride almost on a par with it and ozone making a pretty good third). The oxygen molecule is tom apart with greater difficulty and there- fore remains intact (and inert) under conditions where fluorine does not. You may think that oxygen is an active element but for the most part this is only true at elevated temperatures, where more energy is available to tear its molecule apart. After all, we hve in a sea of free oxygen without damage. And this is not just a matter of adaptation. Inanimate substances such as paper, wood, coal and gasoline, all con- sidered inflammable, can be bathed by oxygen for indefinite periods without perceptible chemical reaction — until heated. Of course, once heated, oxygen does become active and combines easily with other Gases such as hydrogen, carbon monoxide and methane which, by that token, can’t be considered particularly inert, either.

The nitrogen molecule is tom apart with still more difficulty and, before the discovery of the inert gases, nitrogen was the inert gas par excellence. It and carbon tetrafluoride are the only Gases on the hst, other than the inert gases themselves, that are respectably inert, but even they can be torn apart. Life depends on the fact diat certain bacteria can split tlie nitrogen molecule; and important industrial processes arise out of the fact that man has learned to do the same thing on a large scale. Once the nitro- gen molecule is tom apart, the individual nitrogen atom is quite ac- tive, bounces around in all sorts of reactions and, in fact, is the fourth most common atom in living tissue and is essential to all its workings.

In the case of the inert gases, all is different. There are no molecules to pull apart. We are dealing with the self-sufficient atom itself and there seemed little likelihood that combination with any other atom would produce a situation of gfeater stability. Attempts to get inert 48 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION gases to form compounds, at the time they were discovered, failed, and chemists wer& quickly satisfied that this made sense. To be sure, chemists continued to try, now and again, but they also continued to fail. (Please don’t believe the silly propaganda that once Science —with a capital S— aceepts something it becomes an article of faith that is no longer questioned and no longer tested. There are always capable men who question and test any particular accepted tenet. Those who accept the tenet without question are not necessarily being wicked and authoritarian; they are probably very busy question- ing and testing some other tenet. Remember one thing: the number of problems in science is infinite, while the number of scientists is finite.) Until 1962, then, the only successes chemists had had in tying the inert gas atoms to other atoms was in the formation of "clathrates.” In a clathrate, the atoms making up a molecule form a cage-like structure and, sometimes, an extraneous atom—even an inert gas atom — is trapped within the cage as it forms. The inert gas is then tied to the substance and cannot be liberated without breaking down the molecxile. However, the inert gas atom is only physically confined; it has not formed a chemical bond. And yet, let’s reason things out a bit. The boiling point of helium is 4.2° K; that of neon is 27.2, that of argon is 87.4, that of krypton is 120.2, that of xenon is 166.0. The boiling point of radon, the sixth and last inert gas and tire one with the most massive atom, is 21 1.3° K. ( — 61.8° C.) Radon is not even a Gas, but merely a gas. Furthermore, as the mass of the inert gas atoms increases, the ioniza- tion potential (a quanity which measures the ease with which an elec- tron can be removed altogether from a particular atom) decreases. The increasing boiling point and decreasing ionization potential both indi- cate that the inert gases become less inert as the mass of the individual atoms rises. By this reasoning, radon would be the least inert of the inert gases and efforts to form compounds should concentrate upon it. However, randon is a radioactive element with a half-life of less than four days and is so excessively rare that it can be W’orked with only under ex- tremely specialized conditions. The next best bet, then, is xenon. This is very rare, but it is available and it is, at least stable. Then, if xenon is to form a chemical bond, with what otlier atom might it be expected to react? Naturally, the most logical bet would be to choose the most reactive substance of all — fluorine or some fluor- ine-containing compound. If xenon wouldn’t react with that, it would- n’t react with anything. —

WELCOME, stranger! 49

(This may sound as though I am being terribly wise after the event, and I am. However, there are some who weren’t. I am told that Linus Pauling reasoned thus in 1932, well before the event, and that a gen- tleman named A. von AntropofiE did so in 1924.) Well, in 1962, Neil Bartlett and others at the University of British Columbia were working with a very unusual compound, platinum hexafluoride (PtFe). To their surprise, tliey discovered that it was a par- ticularly active compound. Naturally, they wanted to see what it could be made to do and one of the thoughts that arose was that here might be something that could finally pin down an inert gas atom. So Bartlett mixed the vapors of PrF» with xenon and, to his astonish-' ment, obtained a compound which seemed to be XePFe, xenon plati- num hexafluoride. The anouncement of this result left a certain area of doubt, however. Platinum hexafluoride was a sufficiently complex com- pound to make it just barely possible that it had formed a clathrate and trapped the xenon. A group of chemists at Argonne National Laboratory in Chicago therefore tried the straight xenon-plus-fluorine experiment, heating one part of xenon with five parts of fluorine under pressure at 400° C. in a nickel container. They obtained xenon tetrafluoride (XeF»), a straightfonvard compound of an inert gas, W'ith no possibility of a- clathrate. (Yes, I know this experiment could have been tried years before, but it is no disgrace that it wasn’t. Pure xenon is very hard to get and pure fluorine is very dangerous to handle, and no chemist could reasonably have been expected to undergo the expense and the risk for so slim-chanced a catch as an inert gas compound until after Bart- lett’s experiment had increased tliat “slim-chance” tremendously.) And once the Argonne results were announced, all hell broke loose. It looked as though every inorganic chemist in the world went gibber- ing into the inert gas field. A whole raft of xenon compounds including, XeFz, XeFa, XeFc, XeFo, XeO.-, XeO,, H4Xe04 and H4XeO» have been reported. Enough radon w'as scraped together to form radon tetrafluoride (Rn- F,). Even krypton, which is more inert than xenon, has been trapped, and krypton tetrafluorile (KrF.) has been formed. The remaining three inert gases, argon, neon and hehum (in order of increasing inertness) as yet remain untouched. They are the last of the bachelors, but the world of chemistry has the sound of wedding bells ringing in its ears, and it is a bad time for bachelors. As an old (and cautious) married man, I can only say to this no comment. Music and Scie-nce Fiction are not commonly met together in

stories—or, very often, in tcriters. Lloyd Biggie, Jr. is an excep- tion. When in high school he won prizes in national competitions for both literature and music; “and this conflict,” he writes, “has not yet been resolved.” He has an A.B. in English, an M.M. in Music Literature, and a Ph.D. in Musicology; and frequently uses musical themes in his writing. Science Fiction and otherwise— the “otherwise” including featured appearances in mystery mag- azines and anthologies: Ellery Queen’s, for example. Born in Iowa, Mr. Biggie now lives in Michigan, is an overseas veteran of

World War 11, is married to a violinist and has two young vio- linists about the house. Which, he says, “makes me effectively outnumbered.” In this, the first of his thirty-six published Science Fiction stories to appear here, he inquires into the questions of what happens to a language when no one is left to speak it—to a

song, when no one can sing it . . .

WINQS OF SONQ

by Lloyd Biggie, Jr«

Karl Brandon saw the sign Two minutes later he was in- by accident. An aircar cut below side the shop. He inventoried the them, and he looked after it be- littered, dust-covered interior with cause it was a late-model Smires, one swift glance, and turned to and his eye picked out one small leave. He had the patiently-de- sign of a row of small signs on the veloped instinct of a connoisseur, roofs of die cluttered little shop- and his instinct told him there ping circle. was nothing to be gained by sifting “Antiques,” the sign said, and over that shabby collection of junk. Brandon looked at his watch and The proprietor bobbed up at his calculated that he had twenty- elbow, a small, bald-headed man five minutes to spare. He nudged who nodded, smiled, rubbed his his chauffeur, and pointed at the hands together. “Yes, sir?” sign. “Lighters?” Brandon said.

50 WINGS OF SONG 51

‘Tes, sir. Certainly, sir. We about the room as he reached for have a fine collection, sir. If you the door a second time, and hesi- .” will step this way . . tated. A strange object caught his Brandon propelled his bulky eye, a strange object lying at the figure after the proprietor, trom- top of a heap of strange objects. pling die little man’s heels in his Under the thick dust that covered excitement. He could always set- its surface Brandon’s sharp eyes tle with his instinct later, and if caught a suggestion of luster, of this unlikely place actually had a peculiar texture. fine collection of lighters it would He picked it up. It looked to be be the coup of his lifetime —here, some kind of container with a long in Pala City, right under Harry handle, but it had no opening ex- Morrison’s nose! Morrison would cept for two queerly-shaped slots raise an uproar that could be heard in the top and a jagged hole in the all the way to Acturis, and Bran- bottom that was obviously the re- don would enjoy every decibel of sult of a blow. Brandon fingered it. the hole, stared at it, moved closer The proprietor placed a tray to the light. before him, and Brandon took a “What the devil!” he muttered. deep breath and looked the con- Hovering at his elbow, the om- tents over slowly, savoring his dis- nipresent proprietor emitted a appointment. They were an un- triumphant chuckle. “Didn’t think classified mess of corroded, rusted you’d recognize it,” he said. “It’s fragments. There was not even a wood." fair specimen in the lot. "Wood?" Brandon bent closer “No!” Brandon snapped, and for anotlier look. turned away. “Ever see any before?” the pro- “Got one that actually works,” prietor asked. the proprietor said. He picked up “I don’t know. I think I saw a a mishappen piece of metal, wood table, once, in a museum.” thumbed it, and held up the flick- “Possible,” the proprietor said. ering flame. “Possible. But it’s rare. And this is Brandon snorted. “My good a genuine antique. Look.” man. I have seven hundred and He moved the object under the sixty-one lighters in my collection, light, and pointed. On the inside, and all of them work.” dimly visible through one of the The proprietor bobbed his head, slots, was a faded label. “Jacob yielding to the inevitable. “Some- Raymann At Ye Bell House, thing else?” Southmark, London, 1688.” Brandon shook his head impa- “Genuine,” the proprietor said. tiently. He took another ^ance “Nearly a thousand years old.” 52 F.\NTAsy AND SCIENCE FICTION

“You don’t say. And — it’s made before the last great war there was of wood?” a tree growing on Earth, one of “Wood. From a tree.” The pro- millions, perhaps, and this — this prietor produced a cloth, and was part of its living tissue. A dusted off the smooth surface. master craftsman shaped it with “From a tree,” he said again, hold- his OM'n hands, for there vi'ere no ing it up to the light. “Ever see a machines in those days. It is made tree? Of course you haven’t. There of wood, the rarest material in the used to be lots of trees on Mother galaxy, and it is a splendid orna- Earth, but they would never grow ment. Beautiful. For the wall, per- .” anywhere else. Now tliere isn’t haps, or a table . . anything on Mother Earth. The “Ornament be damned! If I buy cost of war, my friend, is not a musical instrument I want it to measured in money, but in things make music. I’ve made seven hun- irretrievably lost, such as trees.” dred and sixty-one lighters work, “What is this thing, anyway?” and I ought to be able to get music “It’s a violin." out of one antique —uhat’d you Brandon rubbed a finger over call it?” the surface. Beneath the luster was “Violin.”. a delicate, wavy pattern, unlike “There should be books some- anything he had ever seen. where that would tell how it “What’s a violin?” works.” “A musical instrument.” The proprietor nodded. “Doubt- “You don’t say. How does it less the University Library would work?” have something.” For the first time the little pro- “How much?” prietor seemed unsure of himself. “Ten thousand.” “Well, I don’t know, exactly.” Brandon stared. “Ridiculous! “Not much room in there for It’s smashed, it doesn’t work, and the mechanism,” Brandon said, there are probably all kinds of peering through tire hole. parts missing. Why, it’s just a “My dear sir!” the proprietor box!” exclaimed. “There was no mecha- “Genuine antique,” the proprie-’ nism in those days.” tor purred. "Genuine wood. Near- .” “Then how the devil did it pro- ly a thousand . . duce music?” “Good morning!” The proprietor shook his head. Brandon let the heavy door Brandon firmly returned it to slam behind him. His chauffeur its place on tlie table. “What good leaped out and stood waiting for is it now?” him. He stopped for a moment, “Think, my friend. Centuries lost in thought. It was time he de- WINGS OF SONG 53 veloped another hobby. He was the fellow’s arm is in the way. losing interest in lighters — there And what the devil is this in his were no more good specimens to other hand? Looks like a long rod.” be had, at any price. And then, “We don’t know, exactly. It wood. Harry Morrison didn’t have isn’t mentioned in the descrip- a sliver of wood in all of his col- tion.” lections. “Ah — the description. Let’s Brandon turned, and re-entered hear it” the shop. “I’ll take it,” he said. Brandon read: ‘"Violin. The most important of the stringed in- Morrison laid aside his magni- struments. Its main parts are the fying glass, and nodded gravely. body, consisting of sound board, "Yes,” he said. He stroked a long back and ribs; the fingerboard, cheek with long, carefully mani- which ends in the pegbox and cured lingers. The nails were scroll; the string holder, or tail- tinted faintly azure. Brandon piece; and the bridge. Inside the watched with a frown. He consid- body is found the bass-bar and ered Morrison a bit of a fop. sound post. The four strings are

"Yes,” Morrison said again. "It tuned in fifths, g, d, a and e.' just may be a find.” “There may have been more, "That's what I thought,” Bran- but it was an old book and some don said. — of the pages were missing.” "Or again ” Morrison tilted Morrison looked at tlie picture back his handsome, greying head again, and shook his head. “Obvi- " and gazed at the ceiling. — it ously there are pieces missing. And may not. Let’s see the pieture. Ah it gives you no hint about the most — yes. It’s clear enough, what you important thing of all. LIow do can see of it. Suppose this fellow you play the thing?” is the musician that plays on it. "I don’t know,” Brandon said. Too bad he has the end tucked tm- “Even Professor Weltz didn’t have der his arm. Is this the best one the vaguest idea. He’s going to they could find?” study it. He photographed it, and "It’s the otily one they could took measurements, and he’s going find.” to have a copy made.” "Hmmm. Yes. Well, obviously "Out of wood?” Morrison asked. there are pieces missing. These Brandon chuckled. “Metal or .” things . . plastic. The Professor thinks he’ll "Strings,” Brandon said airily. be able to answer a lot of ques- "They seem to run the whole tions about ancient music when he length of it, though you can’t see figures out how to play it.” how they’re fastened on because "Just what will you do with it?” — ” ^

54 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

“Get it fixed,” Brandon said. parts — all they had to do was put “And learn to play it.” them together. I got the formula “It may be more of a problem for the adhesive.” than you think. Too bad there isn’t Brandon nodded his approval. a picture of one being played." “But he’s never had the problem “Oh, well figure it out. What— I of supplying missing parts made wanted to ask you, though ” He out of wood. He hadn’t any idea turned the violin over, and fin- of how it should be done, or who “ gered the hole in the bottom. could do it. I found a technician the first step will be to get this in our Polivar Division who of- fixed. Who knows how to repair a fered to fit a piece of plastic into hole in wood?” the hole — Morrison was silent for a long “Nonsense!” Brandon snapped. time. Finally he said, “I’ll have to “Exactly. He also thought he make some inquiries. Perhaps no might be able to do it with wood, one.” but of course he hadn’t any. He’s willing to try if we furnish the Brandon’s private secretary was wood. an earnest, hard-working young “Get some wood for him, then.” man who possessed a happy facul- “That’s just it, sir. There isn’t ty for enthusiastically making any. I’ve inquired everywhere.” Brandon’s pet projects his own. “There must be some some- Brandon appreciated this and paid where. I found this without even him accordingly. trying.” But on this occasion, as he “It must have been a stroke of carefully placed the plastic box on luck, sir, because everywhere I .” Brandon’s desk, he did not act en- ask . . thused. He said glumly, “This is “Yes. Trick is in knowing where going to be harder than I thought.” to ask. Get me Morrison.” Brandon opened the box for a He waited impatiently until fond look at tlie violin. “What’s Morrison’s serene countenance the trouble, Parker?” flashed onto the wall screen. Mor- “I talked to the Director of the rison raised a hand in greeting— Congressional Museum. They have his fingernails on this day were one wood object there, a table.” tinted a dusky red — and said, “I remember,” Brandon said. “That violin of 3'ours, I suppose.” “He said tbe table had to be re- Brandon nodded. “Harry, I’m paired when they got it, but it was sure you know every antique deal- only a problem of finding some er worth knowing. Would you pass kind of an adhesive that would the word around that I want some work on wood. They had all the wood?” WINGS OF SONG 55

“I’ve already made inquiries,” I’m afraid not very much is known Morrison said. "If any turns up about it. But I did find one thing. ril let you know.” About a hundred years ago, on the "Thanks.” planet Beloman— that’s in the "Unless it happens to be some- Partu Sector — there was a man thing wortih saving. There’s not who gave his occupation as wood- any point in destroying one valu- carver." able object just to repair another “I doubt if he’s still available for one that’s broken.” consultation,” Brandon said dryly. Brandon resisted an impulse to “No, sir. But if his occupation smile. His finding the violin had was wood-carver, he must have piqued Morrison more than he had been doing something with wood, re^zed. It went without saying which means he must have had that any valuable objects that some. If he worked at it very long turned up were destined for Mor- he must have had a lot of wood, rison’s collections. "No, that and there may be some left there." shouldn’t be necessary,” he sMd. “I “Wood-carver,” Brandon mused. just need a few small pieces.” “One who carves wood. One who “To be sure. If I find anything makes things out of wood. But suitable. I’ll see that you’re noti- that’s impossible! Even a hundred fied.” years ago there wasn’t enough Morrison waved, and his image wood around for anyone to make faded. Brandon sat still, and a profession of using it. Where’d twiddled his thumbs fretfully. He you get the information?” got up and paced the floor. He “Out of a little book, called seated himself again, and his fin- Strange Occupations. AU it said ger dug at a button on his desk. was, ‘In the last census a man on “Parker!” he roared. “Get me some Beloman gave his occupation as wood!” wood-carver.’ The Partu Sector is rather remote, and it may be that Parker dropped from sight for inquiries such as those Mr. Morri- an entire week. He returned look- son is making wouldn’t reach ing wan and tired, and Brandon, there. I think it might be worth after a quick glance at his face, investigating.” said, “No luck, eh? Where were “Beloman. Sounds familiar. Do you?” I have some interests there?” “At the Congressional Refer- “Yes, sir. You control some min- ence Library, sir.” ing properties. If you asked your “You expected to find wood Resident Superintendent, I’m sure there?” he could find out easily enough if “Information about wood, sir. there is any wood available.” ”

56 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

"It’s an idea. It might even be a files of stubby stone buildings. good idea. Have I ever been to Rain continued to lash against the Beloman, Parker?” window. "Not to my knowledge, sir. Cer- “Ever see any wood?” Brandon tainly not since I’ve been with asked. you.” Rozdel shook his mind free from "I don’t think I’ve even been in mining statistics. “Wood? What’s the Partu Sector. Parker, make up that?” an inventory of my holdings in Brandon concealed his disap- Partu and vicinity. It’s time I pointment. “If you don’t know,

made an inspection tour.” there’s no point in talking about it. Parker, you might as well get out They landed on Beloman on a and start looking around.” He local Rainday. As they splashed turned back to Rozdel. “We under- their way towards an aircar, stood that there was once a man Charles Rozdel, Brandon’s Resi- on this planet who gave his occu- dent Superintendent, sputtered pation as wood-can-er. So we apologies. “It’s politics,” he said. thought there might be some wood “We get only one passenger liner here. Now, about— tliis deprecia- a week, and we have one Rainday tion schedule a week, and neither' Intersteller “Wood-carver?” Rozdel said. Transport nor the Weather Con- “Oh, I remember now. Old Thor trol Board will make a change. I Peterson calls himself a wood-

keep telling them it gives \ isitors carver. I just never thought about the wrong idea. I personally know it, but he makes knick-knacks and of some tourists who took one look tilings, and — sure. Out of wood. at this mess and left on the ship Charges fancy prices and works that brought them.” mostly to order. I guess he sends Brandon grunted noncommit- the stuff to Partu. People there tally. Parker clutched the violin may have money to waste on that box close to him, and hoped that kind of foolishness. They don’t it was water-proof. Rozdel loaded around here.” them into the aircar, and drove to “He’s still alive, then?” a hotel. “I haven’t any idea. I haven’t An hour later Brandon pushed seen him — oh, for a eouple of aside the mound of books and rec- years. He was having trouble get- ords and walked to the window. ting around, even then. Pretty Beloman was almost a frontier old, you know.” planet, and there was a raw “I should say so!” Parker ex- .” youthfulness about the city’s broad, claimed. “Why, he must be . . open-air streets and its orderly “Never mind,” Brandon said. WINGS OF SONG 57

“If he’s alive, we’ll go see him. If It stood near the house, a he’s not, we still want some wood. straight, rough-textured finger Where did he get the wood?” pointing upwards into a top- “I haven’t any idea,” Rozdel heavy crown of green foliage. .” said. “His relatives could prob- “Is it . . ably tell you. I’ll find out if he’s Parker nodded. "A tree.” still alfve, and get directions for “I thought there wasn’t a tree finding tlie Peterson Farm.” left in the galaxy!” “Please do,” Brandon said. “At “Evidently,” Parker said, “there's once. Parker, order an aircar,” one left.” “Maybe he has more. So that’s Beloman was an agriculture and where he gets his wood. Parker, mining planet, and they flew over that thing must be fifteen feet lovely, rolling farm land and cris- high.” crossing roads that were still main- They moved towards it. 'The tained and used. There were occa- ground dropped away in a gentle sional small forests of giant darf slope, and between the house and weeds. Soon they crossed the the outbuildings were rows of boundary into another weather stone-lined hollows. zone, and escaped from Beloman “That’s where he grows them,” City’s Rainday into a luxury of Brandon said. “Twenty-three, golden sunlight. Brandon watched twenty-four holes. But only one the landscape impatiently. tree. Well — let’s go talk to the fel- “Shouldn’t be long, now. Isn’t low.” that the river Rozdel mentioned?” They were met at the door by a Parker consulted his map. plump young woman who greeted “Should be. And that must be the them politely and led them down place up ahead.” the slope to one of the smaller They landed in a wide circle of outbuildings. old but meticulously maintained “Go right on in,” she said, and stone buildings —huge barns, stor- called, “Someone to see you, fa- age sheds, a machine shop, smaller ther.” structures housing clucking fowls They entered the building. It or grunting animals. The stone was empty except for a bench and house, a tall, square building that racks of tools at the far end. A face had suffered the addition of wings turned towards them, old, gro- on three sides, stood in the center tesquely wrinkled, dark under a of the circle. As they started to shock of white hair. The room was walk towards it, Brandon gripped dim except for the brilliantly- Parker’s arm and halted him. lighted work bench. "What the devil!" “Please excuse me. I cannot 58 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

stand to greet you.” The voice was “I saw the tree,” Brandon said. a high-pitched, tremulous squeak. “I thought trees grew only on "My legs no longer serve me," it Earth.” went on. “My voice is almost “Not even there,” Peterson said. gone. My eyes and hands are not “Nothing grows there now. But what they once were. Fortunately the Petersons have grown trees my appetite never fails me, and because wood-carvers must have where there is appetite there is yet wood. For a long time the growing hope.” He chuckled. ‘Tour busi- of them was a family secret. When ness, gentlemen?” a tree w'as taken, there was ahvays Brandon stepped forward and a new seedling ready for tlie pot. presented his card. The old man But no longer. I do not start new had been bundled into a wheeled trees because I should not live chair with brilliantly patterned long enough to use them. The one robes tucked around him. On the you saw is the last. When I have bench lay a piece of wood; carved used it there will no longer be a on it in bold relief was the par- woodcan^er on Beloman. But you tially completed head of a woman. did not come so far to listen to Brandon gaped at it. an old man’s whining.” “You come a long way, Mr. “That may be tlie last tree in the Brandon,” Peterson said. “Not just entire galaxy,” Brandon said. to see me, surely.” The old man sighed. “Perhaps it "We did not expect to see you,” is. The growing is done with Brandon said. “We—my secre- chemicals, and it is a laborious tary — found in an old book a ref- and painstaking process. I have erence to a wood-carver here.” willingly told the secret to many, “How old a book?” but no ones cares to bother. And “It was published a hundred why should anyone go to such and four years ago,” Parker said. trouble if there is no wood-carver “Ah! Then it referred to my to use the wood?” grandfather. Or perhaps to his fa- Brandon took the box from Park- ther. We Petersons have been er, and opened it. “This is why I wood-carvers for more generations am here,” he said. than I could count. But I am the The white, deeply-veined hands last. My sons have found more hfted out the viohn. Eyes gleam- lofty professions. My daughters ing with excitement, Peterson held have married farmers —good farm- it up to the light, turned it over ers. They prosper. And I, I squan- and over. “Beautiful!” he whis- der what is left of my talent on pered. “Beautiful! What is it?” trinkets because my hands are no “A viohn,” Brandon said. “A longer steady.” musical instrument,” I

WTNGS OF SONG 59

“Ah! They were real craftsmen this violin. The secret of making in those days. They were real mu- music passed from owner to owner sicians, too.” He beamed at Bran- until my grandfather could find don. “I thank you for showing this no one who wished to learn. When to me. It is difficult for me to trav- he died its music died also. So is el, but I should have gone far to the music of this violin dead.” He see it. Beautiful!” tapped the box gently. “Bury it,” “I want you to fix it,” Brandon he said. said. “Nonsense!” Brandon said. “It’s The smile faded. Peterson a beautiful thing. You said so your- squinted at the hole, fingered it self. What’s the hann in having it expertly. —"Why?” fixed, even if no one can play it?” “Why ” Brandon stared at “Would you ask a doctor to heal “ him, — because I want it fixed. a dead man? No. He could patch Here, we have a picture of what it him, perhaps, but he could not looked hke. I want to learn to play heal. I would heal yom- violin it.” gladly if I could make it speak Peterson looked from picture to again. But I cannot heal, so I will violin. Slowly he shook his head. not patch. Bury it.” With a final caress he returned “I’ll pay well,” Brandon said. the instrument to its box. “No,” he “You have wood. You have the said. “I’m sorry, but— no.” skill. It shouldn’t take long.”

>, “But why not? Wood is your “Too long,” the cracked voice business, isn’t it?” sakl. “Forever, and even then I “My grandfather had a musical could not heal it. But I w'ould not instrument,” Peterson said. “A expect you to understand. The flute. He would go out into the music — the old music—was not fields to play. The animak would like the music we have now. We come listen to him. I saw them have musical machines, and they myself. He made beautiful music. are soulless. The old music — 'Then he died. The flute became know this, because I heard my mine, and I tried to play it. I grandfather play.” Carefully he made some sounds, but I could not closed the box. “I’m sorry you have make music. The music died with come so far for nothing.” the musician.” “Do you know of someone else “What happened to the flute?” who could fix it?” Brandon asked, with a sudden vi- Peterson shook his head. “There sion of an entire collection of rare is only me. Soon I shall die, and and priceless musical instruments. then there w'ill be no one.” “I buried it,” Peterson said. “It Brandon squared his shoulders, was an old, old instrument— like thrust his head forward, said 60 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION sternly, "I don’t think yon fully kept to himself his knowledge of understand who I am. Even on this the crippled old man and the one obscure little planet . . remaining tree. “You are a man with a dead The more elaborate objects, violin, and I cannot help you.” such as the clocks, were often fam- Peterson turned back to his bench, ily heirlooms, but Brandon had and picked up a tool. money, influence and the gift of “Come on,” Brandon said. He persuasion, and he applied all did not speak again until they three generously or ruthlessly, as were almost back at Beloman City. the case required. In a matter of Then he growled, “Conceited old days he had tlie greatest collection fossil. I’ll show him whether he’s of wood in the known galaxy, a the only one.” collection that would turn Harry Morrison livid with envy. He had On the glistening, cosmopolitan also, by promise of a nice bonus world of Partu, Brandon inspected to Thor Peterson’s agent on Partu, factories, attended board meetings, arranged to acquire the entire fu- made speeches, and bought wood. ture output of the old man. The indefatigable Parker scored “Now we can go home,” he said one coup after another in tracking jovially to Parker, “and fix this down owners of Thor Peterson’s violin.” carvings — or those of his father, or grandfather, or of even more re- Brandon sifted through his col- mote Petersons beyond number. lection and reluctantly assented There were wood boxes of all to the sacrifice of one small wood sizes, with carved lids. There were box. The Polivar technician took impressively-carved wood figu- charge of it, disassembled it, and rines. There were wall plaques, began to experiment, to learn to and sets of wood dishes, and work with wood. He cut pieces, he carved serving bowls. There were pared them to die desired thick- even wood clocks that set in mo- ness, he shaped and glued them. tion an entire parade of wood fig- Days passed. Brandon con- ures around their exteriors. tained his impatience and en- The list grew in length and couraged the man to take his variety. Brandon had no difficulty tune. He wanted nothing less than in acquiring the simpler items. perfection on this job. Such things had always been for Finally the technician was sale on Partu, and the Partusians ready. He searched through Bran- evidently thought that they al- don’s entire collection for the ways would be. Brandon brought, piece that best matched the deli- or graciously accepted gifts, and cate grain of the violin. He scraped —

WINGS OF SONG 61 it, raising a pile of fine shavings “Now,” Brandcm said, “we’re that Brandon contemplated sadly getting somewhere.” and ordered impounded. He could In consultation with Professor thinJi of no use for them, but they Weltz, Brandon and his techni- were, undeniably, wood. With cian studied the picture of the vio- surgical precision tlie technician lin. They identified the bridge and evened the splintered edges of the the pegs, and the technician hole. With surgical precision he carved them. They identified the cut the patch, and glued it into finger board. Brandon was reluc- place. tant to sacrifice an object that It did not hold. could produce so large a piece of Brandon’s disappointment was -wood, so they decided to compro- tempered by the arrival of a ship- mise on one made of plastic. The ment of carvings from Peterson’s finger board was. Professor Weltz agent on Partu: a small plaque, assured him, in no way functional, the one the old man had been and its substance could nqt affect working on when they visited him, the sound. and a pair of boxes with simple or- The string holder posed a prob- naments carved on the lids. Bran- lem, since the violinist’s arm hid don inspected them critically, and that part of the instrument in the pronounced them inferior. He picture. The ingenious technician slapped his technician on the back. attached a small bar around which “He’s second-best now,’’ he ex- the strings could be looped. The ulted. “Let’s get on with it.’’ substance of the strings was the The technician tried a second most perplexing riddle of all, and time, and a third. Then, with in- Professor Weltz finally solved it genuity and patience, he secured after an intensive study of the the patch with braces on the in- meaning of the word string down side of the instrument. It held. through the centuries. He recom- Gleefully Brandon called in one mended the use of a certain type of his chemists, and ordered him of fiber that Brandon had never to duplicate the violin’s glossy fin- heard of. ish on the patch. The grumbling Brandon ordered the fiber chemist retired with fragments j'ards of it. The technician cut off left over from the technician’s ex- lengths and attached them to the periments. His work took time, violin. Brandon extended a finger, and the task so tried his temper plucked at a string. The violin that he was even snarling at Bran- emitted a soft, but recognizably don before it was done with. But musical, plunk. in the end he produced a finish not “We did it!” Brandon roared. remotely unhke the original. Professor Weltz demonstrated 62 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

the use of the pegs to tune the The usually imperturbable strings. He showed Brandon how Parker was startled. “Again?” the placing of fingers on the "Make the arrangements,” Bran- strings would alter the pitch. In a don said. “I can leave day after week Brandon could plunk his tomorrow.” way through a simple tune and make it recognizable. In two Again they flew out of a be- weeks he had acquired a com- drenched Beloman City Rainday mendable facility. into the warming cheer of bright “Now, about this rod the player sunlight. Ripening fields of grain holds in the other hand,” Professor swayed peacefully far below them. VVeltz said. Brandon twisted this way and "Hang the rod,” Brandon said. that, looking about impatiently for "I’m playing music. What more landmarks. They passed over the can you expect of a musical in- rushing river, and landed again in strument?” the circle of farm buildings. Bran- Morrison came, admired, and don leaped out, and Parker fol- glumly departed with downcast lowed cautiously with the violin. shoulders after being conducted "The tree’s gone,” Parker said. through Brandon’s wood display. "He said he was about ready to The exultant Brandon waxed joy- use it,” Brandon said. fully for another week, and then They headed directly for the a .second shipment arrived from workshop, and Brandon had his Partu. Cut in relief on one of the hand on the door when a call half-dozen carved boxes was a stopped him. The young woman perfectly-executed image of a vio- they had met on the first visit hur- lin. ried towards them. “Damn the man!” Brandon “What was it you wanted?” she muttered. asked. He could envision old Thor “We’d like to see Mr. Peterson,” Peterson bent over his work bench, Brandon said. producing this flawless carving “I’m sorry. Father is dead. He from memory, smugly secure in died a month ago.” the knowledge that he was the only Brandon could manage no man in the universe who could more than a deep breath. work with wood. Brandon sprang “I’m sorry,” the woman said to his feet and paced restlessly again. about his ofiice. He returned to his “I’m sorry, too,” Brandon said. desk and consulted his engagement They turned away. Slowly they calendar. He summoned Parker. walked baak to the aircar. Slowly ‘AVe’re going to Beloman.” they flew away. WINGS OF SONG 63

Brandon touched Parker’s arm/ In a sudden, intuitive vision "Let’s set dowTi somewhere,” he Brandon heard music: heard a said. “I w’ant to think.” soaring, throbbing lament as a Parker landed in a rolling mead- single, bewitching thread of mel- ow near the shallow gorge of the ody was spun out of nowhere with river. Brandon, the violin box un- breath-taking, limpid sweetness; der his arm, walked over and seat- heard an incomprehensible blur of ed himself where he could Ipok notes, a lightning rapidity of tonal down at the gurgling, leaping wa- movement, a darting, deadly, soul- ter. fully expressive rapier of glittering Tire face of old Thor Peterson sound. loomed before him in perfect clar- And saw an audience, audience ity — the white hair, the deep of thousands, rapt, choked with wrinkles, the sunken, sadly medi- emotion. tative eyes. Plunk.

"The music of this violin is Brandon leaned out over the dead." river and dropped the violin. He Brandon opened the box, and watched hypnotically as it spun touched a string. Plunk.. downwards, ignoring Parker’s cry “My grandfather had a musical of horror. It struck with a faint instrument. A flute. He wotdd go splash, and to his amazement it out intp the fields to play. The ani- floated. For a moment it bobbed mals would come listen to him." lightly upon the rusliing, tossing Plunk. water. Then it plunged into a rap- "The music died with the mu- ids, struck a rock, and another, sician." and disappeared in a shower of Plunk. spray and splinters.

• Inside the violin, the faded la- Brandon turned away. Again he bel: “Jacob Raymann At Ye Bell fancied that he heard music, but House, Southmark, London, this time it was only the subdued 1688.” Nearly a thousand years. murmur of the river below, and Centuries, at least, of great, stir- the sibilant hiss of a hot wind ring music. Plunk. searching the dry meadow grass. The Long Island Railroad had suspended service for one of its frequent periods of fasting, meditation, and prayer, so an inter-

view was cancelled and a letter substituted for it. “Dear Mr. Petti- fogle [it went], I’ve been a groom, riding instructor. Flamenco dancer, pegger on a lobster boat cook on a tuna boat, recep-

tionist, file clerk, 6- amateur dog handler. I’m now living with my family on Long Island and breeding Laborador retrievers and

Akitas. The Akita is the royal dog of Japan, and should be better known in this country. Most sincerely.” Also better known in this country—and note, we modestly trust, will—should be the author of that letter and this weird and funny story of birds, not all of whom live in gilded cages.

WINGED VICTORY

by S. Dorman

While he was having a few "Who?” drin]

64 WINGED VICTORY 65

He looked away down the hopped off the curb, just missed street, but could see no sign of the being hit by a newspaper truck, conventional black symbol he had and ran across the Avenue and hoped to escape and yet longed to whammed the door open. Several encounter and demolish, so his magazines fell off the rack inside future was still unsafe. “It’s all as he passed. just nature,” he grumbled. “If I “Mr. Cyclone,” the soda jerk can catch him. I’ll get him off my said in disgust, coming around to tail for good.” pick up the magazines. Nobody "Not used to being evaded, are else noticed him. There w'as no you?” she inquired, smiling at one there he recognized. A few him. She wore a green coat and no men, a few w'omen, and two kids h'at. In the poor light her hair ap- who ought to be home in bed at peared feathery pale and her fea- this hour but W'ere drinking tures were indistinct. something sticky and gigghng “I’ve evaded him, so far,” into each other’s faces. A whole Drake said. “I haven’t fallen for bunch of alien idiots. his tricks yet. If I can find him “Seeds!” Drake swore in some first. I’ll swoop down on him odier language. “Gimme some when he isn’t looking, and that’ll Sweeties,” he said to the soda be that. But he’s always waiting jerk, ringing his money dow'n. He around for me.” put one of the candies in his ‘Tes, yes,” she said soothingly, mouth, crunching hard on the dry “all the world’s a cage, and we’re lichen concentrate A Sw'eet was in it together.” supposed to sober him up, but it “Crap,” Drake said. “That’s didn’t. crap.” Then he saw himself in the “Absolutely,” she agreed. mirror behind the fountain. By this time they had come to Above a bruised beak rose his ruf- the Avenue where there was more fled crest. His left sleeve w'as tom traffic. A bus snorted around the and dirty, and the wing was corner like a metal bull, and a damn near crippled, though it movie house had just emptied out only felt numb. Now where did I its customers who were streaming get that bad? he asked himself, across the Avenue toward the only shocked. He went out into the open soda fountain in die block. street again, asking himself. How Behind the neon-green door of did I get so messed up? There the soda place somediing caught wasn’t much of a brawl in that Drake’s eye; a billow' of black bar, or was there? which looked familiar. Leaving “Just nature,” she said cheer- the w'oman to stand there, he fully, falling into step beside him ”

6(. FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

again. “You know, the female woman murmured. “I’m not home- likes to cook and keep house, the sick, either.— I hated it, always male likes to hunt and compete.” cooped up “That’s crap,” Drake said, but “You?” he asked cynically.

he looked at her sharply, since “Like I said, always cooped up. she was singing a song his mother My Daddy’s an old buzzard. Af- had taught him. Much good his ter he left home I thought things look did; they w'cre moving would be livelier, but he got too through a darker area of the city old to be the town collector, and and he couldn’t tell w'hat she tvas came back to us, and now here I like: ugly, old, pretty, hungry, or am with aged parents on my what. Just his bad luck, with an hands, and nothing to amuse me, ignominious end in the near fu- much.” ture, a half-drunk on to destroy Drake looked sideways at her. his caution, and nothing in his Wearily, and wished he could see pockets but a package of Sweeties. her more clearly. They had turned “Have one," he said grimly, off into an airier part of town offering the little box to her. where some of the houses Yvere “No thank you,” she said jx)- covered with vines. The vines were litely. “I don’t need one.” quiet at this hour of the night, but “How far are you going to walk Drake listened to them anyway, w'itli me?” becoming more and more uneasy. “Oh, as far as you like. I’m in Yet here she was at his side, and no hurry.” why not? Maybe it was better if He tucked the bedraggled wing he didn’t see her too clearly. She closer to his side and stamped suddenly burst into song that along with her. His shoes were a made him feel worse yet, not be- recent gift, and as he wasn’t used ing in his vocal range. He to wearing them, they were rais- stumped along, wishing he would ing blisters. “Lime,” he muttered, sober up, and slie warbled away. in another tongue. The fresh Drake suddenly thought he saw night air was not steadying him, the flap of a black salute from a and with only one wing he was at doorway, and all caution gone, he a disadvantage. plunged over for a better look. In “Homesick?” she asked. his blistering shoes he staggered “Never!” Drake swore. “I been up fourteen rungs to the entry, off every place, done every thing, balance with the unfamiliar liq- seen all the rocks and clouds, and uors and his damaged wing. The I forget what home was. Nothing door was shut tight and only a but a cracked egg, anyway.” pale glow' showed behind the “You can say that again,” the panes. He gave an ugly squaw'k of WINGED VICTORY 67

rage and frustration, just drunk stove sat his adversary with a lap enougli still to be sure he could full of bones and his big black tear that flapping black idiot into shoulders hunched. In a rich pieces. voice he said, “Well, well. Good She came noiselessly along be- evening.” hind him and took a key out of “Good evening,” Drake said her bag before he realized she was dismally. “I don’t call it a fair there. fight.” “Hey, you live here?” Drake • “Fight? My dear boy, don’t you asked in alarm, trying to back off. mean flight? Anyway, your own She had sort of jammed him into instincts 'led you here, you know the entry^vhile she unlocked the it.” door. "I’ll be going,” Drake said, “You old buzzard,” Drake lojowing too late he had flown right into the trap. “Tut!” her Daddy said. “Care- "Oh no you won’t,” she said in ful! ni have my eye on you.” a tone of perfect fury. "Not a Drake drooped against the bars chance, my fine feathered friend.” and sighed. The woman was be- Drake cracked his beak on the ing adorned with shells and flow- woodwork as he tried to get away, ers by her mother; there was a but the door opened inward. The crackling cosiness about the whole woman gave him a shove and her little nest. His worst dreams come old mother was right there wait- true; the end of his wild migra- ing, and clapped a grille over tions. hun. “Done for,” Drake said in his “Ha!” the old mother shouted. owm language. “You’ve got one!” Bright-eyed and beady, the lit- "Not much to look at,” she said, tle woman smiled at him. “Just switching on some fights. “But he beginning,” she clacked. can be cleaned up and he’s what Her mother came over and un- Daddy suggested. I won’t push locked the grille. “Eggs!” she my luck.” prophesied, and began to preen There in a deep chair by the him with her shriveled talons.

NEXT MONTH . . .

THE TREE OF TIME, part one of a thrilling two part

novel by DAMON KNIGHT — —

BOOKS

THE BEAST, A. E. Van Vogt, Double- Secret Caves in the Moon, Secret day, $3.50 Super Communist Nazis, Super Secret Mysterious Neanderthal I have not been altogether — surely all this must momentari- pleased that recently, so it seems, ly give way to the Great van Vog- nonfiction has outnumbered tian Stimulating Concepts for fiction in this column, and that which SLAN, THE WORLD OF some of the latter has been only NULL-A, THE WEAPONS-SHOPS marginally Science Fiction or OF isHAR, were famous . . .

Fantasy. However, complaints surely? Well, give way it did have been minimal, and I sup- for a while— but only to make pose tliat most of you would rath- room for Super Mysterious Equal- er read a review of a good book ized Man-Like Women, Mysteri- on nematodes than a bad one on ous Super Intelligent Arc-lights die Space-Raiders of Xilch. StiH, Living in a Pit, Secret Super Kid- I hope to correct this imbalance napping Colonies on Venus eventually, and without clutter- But why go on. Apparently this ing things up with tripe stf. collection of rubbish has been con- This by way of introduction fected out of three stories original- and explanation. . . . Nothing ly pubhshed in Astounding, the kept me at the beast except that dates of which are meretriciously it was straight SF, of which the not given, but I’d guess not long column’s been short —and the fact after the War, with perhaps the that it’s by the great A. E. van dates recently re-set later to bring Vogt. Surely (I kept telling my- it (ha ha) up to date; which, if self), surely any minute now I’m correct, failed miserably in things will start getting good. its intention: and, if I’m wrong, Surely paper characters, cliche merely convicts van Vogt of here situations, poor writing, flapdoo- being a poor prophet as well as dle and flumadiddle about Mys- (here) a poor writer. The only re- terious Super Engines, Secret deeming features of the book are Mysterious Organizations, Super good paper, clear typography, an Mysterious Powers, Mysterious arresting jacket design by How- —

BOOKS 69

ard Burns. In short, I feel quite remarkable statements from the savage about having wasted on it proprietor. “Some years ago I an entire evening which I might bought up all the old WPA Fed- much better have spent bubbling eral Art project paintings for tlie my lips for the amusement of my price of the canvas. I am reputed little boy. And hencefortli as pre- to have made a quarter of a mil- viously I shall continue to favor lion dollars on the deal, which I good hooks on n^natodcs. neither affirm nor deny. I did make enough to print my Nostra-

YEARBOOK OF ASTRONOMY, 1963, J. damus book,” he said; adding, G. Porter and Patrick Moore, calmly, “I am widely recognized Norton, $3.50 to be a reincarnation of Nostra- damus.” Most of the charts, diagrams, The second edition is now out and other such technical data — “Translated, Edited, and Inter- here refer to countries in the lati- preted” by himself— and claims to tude of Great Britain, where the be the first edition in English since book was prepared. However, it is 1672. There is a turgid preface also full of interesting information attributed to Nostradamus, dis- which will appeal even to non- coursing on his jxDwers; most of astronomy-buffs living elsewhere. the prophetic quatrains in 16th c.- There are articles on telescope eye- French, a translation, and a com- pieces, Mars, space research, ob- ment on each. Mr. Roberts, I fear, serving the sun, variable stars, takes liberties with his text — per- meteorites and life, Venus, making haps the privilege of a reincar- your own observatory, stellar clus- nated author. In Quatrain 9, Cen- ters, career astronomy, etc.; as well tury I, for example — there are as fascinating tid-bits about Our many such examples De I’orient Changing Constellations. viendra le coeur punique does not mean “From the East of Africa THE COMPLETE PROPHECIES OF NOS- shall come the Lion-Heart.” The TRADAMUS, Henry C. Roberts, words of Africa are visibly absent; Nostradamus, Inc. $5. punique means Punic, not Lion; whatever the line signifies Cif any- Mr. Roberts owns an old book thing), it doesn’t signify Haile shop on Canal Street in NYC, in- Selassie, which is what Roberts to which 1 wandered some years says it does in order to justify the ago, looking for bound volumes of next line about angering “the the American Weekly from the heirs of Romulus.” To extend (Q. days when A. Merrit was editing 12, C.I) Qui de Verone aura gouv- it. I didn’t get them, but I got two ernment to the government, not 70 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

only to Verona, but all Italy, and serious students of the prophetic apply it to Mussolini, is fetching phenomenon, except that anyone far indeed. Most of the fame of who wants (almost) all of Nos- Michel de Notre-Dame rests on tradamus in English will find three prophecies: Q. 35, C.I, The this the only game in town; pub- young Lion small overcome the lisher’s address is 380 Canal St., old one/ In martial field by single NYC 13, and don’t say I didn’t [or, singular] duel, /hi a golden warn you. cage he shall put out his eye/

. . . then he shall die . . . may THE DOOR TO THE FUTURE, JeSS be applied without strain to the Steam, Doubleday, $4.50 death at jousting of Henry II of France, whose golden helmet was I said of the Roberts edition of pierced at the eye. O. 20, C. IX, Nostradamus that it was of little or

ending . . . dedans Varennes, no value to serious students of the / Esleu cap. cause tempeste, feu, prophetic phenomena. Mr. sang tranche, is certainly strongly Steam’s hook, I think, may be of suggestive of the capture of Louis some such interest; it is thorough- XVI at Varennes —which certain- ly a “popular” hook, of course, and ly did “cause tempest, fire, blood marred throughout by the author’s running”— although Mr. Roberts addiction to journalese (Mr. curiously neglects to translate Jones, for instance, is never start- "Esleu cap.” as Elected Capet. Ah, led: he is “a startled Mr. Jones”: well. The third, Q. 18, C. IX, said to distinguish him, I suppose, to contain the very name of Monto from the many non-startled Mr. Morency’s executioner, escapes Joneses) but it makes a fairly wide him entirely. survey of (mostly) modern “psy- Most of these verses seem gib- chic” phenomena, from Edgar berish; most of the “interpreta- Cayce, who diagnosed and pre- tions” were plainly done during scribed when in trance, through World War II, and are foreed the Washington clairvoyante Jean and unconvincing in their at- Dixon, to the Fatima messages, tempts to read then-current events via astrology and spiritualism, into tlrem. And anyone who can etc., with backward glances at the understand “The leader, escaping, Bible, Nostradamus, and Mother shall be safe in a bam on the sea” Shipton. The only one which Mr. (whatever the Hell that means) as Steam discredits absolutely is referring to der Feuhrer’s “escap- Mother Shipton, whose “prophe- ing in a submarine” can under- cies” of submarines and aircraft stand anything as referring to any- were forgeries of the mid- 19 th thing. This book has no value to century. His attitude towards the BOOKS 71

‘'fulfillment” of tlie prophecies of “To the end that this miserable the “Old” Testament in the “New” Faustus might fill the lust of his is so uncritical that I am led to flesh, and live in all manner of suspect his testimony on other voluptuous pleasures, it came in

points. The book can be recom- his mind . . . that he had a great mended to those eager to believe desire to lie with fair Helena of

everything, and to ffibse interested Greece . . . wherefore he called in seeing what is believed by those unto him his spirit Mephostophi- eager to believe everything. les, commanding him to bring him the fair Helena, which he also PENELOPE, Wm. C. Anderson, did. Whereupon he fell in love Crown, $3.95 with her, and made her his com- mon Concubine and bedfellow, This is supposed to be a funny for she was so beautiful and de- book about a dolphin. It seems, lightful a piece, that he could not anyway, to be a book about a dol- be one hour from her, if he should phin. Tom O’Sullivan’s jacket de- therefore have suffered death, she sign is nice. had so stolen away his heart: and to his seeming, in time she w^as A LIKENESS TO VOICES, Mary Sav- with child, and in the end brought age, Torquil, $3.50 him a man child, whom Faustus named Justus Faustus: this child This is blurbed as “a tale of told Dr. Faustus many things that modern witchcraft involving one were to come, and what 'strange of the most trouble-prone cats ever matters were done in foreign to survive 2,000 life cycles,” and countries: but in the end when I quit reading it when I discov- Faustus lost his life, the mother ered that part of it is written by and the child vanished away both the cat, for pity’s sake. I do not together.” review books written by cats. I Out of such rough material would have mentioned this when Marlowe and Schiller wrought

I applied for the job, but I did not their wondrous stories, which suppose the matter would ever have made the Faust Legend the come up. Cute cover by Si Cole- common property of mankind. man. This book is “modernized” from the first translation into English, THE HISTORIE OF THE DAMNABLE in 1952, when some who had LIFE AND DESERVED DEATH OF known Faust were still alive. It is DOCTOR JOHN FAusTus, William full of all sorts of anecdotes, sor- Rose, ed., U. of Notre Dame cery, sermons, practical jokes, and Press, $1.95 much later illustrations. Dr. Wm. 72 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

Rose of the University of London Prominent among these contro- and Professor W. K. Pfeiler of the versies is that surrounding the ori- University of Nebraska have con- gin of the American Indians. tributed interesting and valuable There have been doctrines of At- material to the book, but to me the lantean Indians, Egyptian Indi- most fascinating is the frontis- ans, Jewish Indians, Phoenician piece labeled, “An Alleged Faust Indians, Negro Indians, Norse In- Portrait / By Jan Joris Van-Vliet / dians, Welsh Indians, Polynesian After a Sketch by Rembrandt. Indians, Greek Indians, Sumerian About 1630.” It is a picture of an Indians, Mormon Indians, and old man, conveying, I don’t know Buddhist Indians. how, the distinct first impression Anthropologists archeologists, of a little old man. The second and historians know that these impression is of bitterness, pain, theories are one-tenth doubtful and abstraction. Look further and and nine-tenths nonsense. But the lips seem about to writhe back the average academician is iU- and the whole face convulse in a equipped to combat such delu- frightful grimace. Could one but sions. He writes in a Latinized see plain that which but now professorese style that repels the lurks, it would not be hard to be- reading public. He has his own lieve that this face did indeed work, and if he tried to swat ev- gaze long into the countenance of ery screwball theory that buzzes the Prince of Hell. round his head he would have no —Avram Davidson time left. Worst of all, he finds that much of tlie public emotion- LOST TmBES & SUNKEN CONTINENTS ally prefers the cultist notions re- (Myth and Method in the Study gardless of evidence. As Wau- of American Indians), Robert chope, alluding to Heyerdahl’s Pa- Wauchope, Chicago; University cific-migration theories, says: “If of Chicago Press, $3.95 there is anything an avid adven- ture reader hates, it is an egghead Some questions irresistibly at- scholar who primly pours a test tract pseudoscientific cultists. tube of cold water on an already Questions of the origin of races, brine-soaked blond Viking hero peoples, and civilizations are es- who conquered the roaring Pacific pecially beguiling. Hence the host to demonstrate his faith in a dra- of writings, theories, and cults as- matic theory when the spectacled sociated with Atlantism, Pyramid- scientists said it couldn’t be ology, Neodruidism, Diffusion- do'ne.” ism, and British-Israelism among Fortunately, a few heroic egg- others. heads persist in setting the record BOOKS 73

straight. Professor Wauchope of launched the Lost Ten Tribes Tulane University, a Mayologist theory of the Amerinds, down to and Americanist, is the latest. Gladwin and Heyerdahl. If such With wry humor he parades the things interest you, the book is whole bizarre cortege, from L6- well worth your while. pez de Gomara, wholiround 1500 — L. Sprague de Camp

NOTE: —From time to time and perhaps even regularly we will note the publication of books not reviewed but which we think may be of interest to readers. Comprehensive, no —comprehensible, yes. FICTION NON-FICTION

Bulmer, Ken. The Wizard of Posei- American Astronautical Society. Ad- don. Ace Double Novel. $.40 vances in the Astronautical Sciences, Burroughs, Edgar Rice. Jungle Tales V. 10. Western Periodicals. $11.50 of Tarzan, Tarzan and the City of Anderson, Poul. Is There Life On Gold, Ace. $.40 each. Other Worlds? Crowell-Clollier. Hatch, Gerald. The Day The Earth $4.95 Froze. Monarch. $.35 Bergwin, Clyde R. and W. T. Cole- Kline, Otis Adelbert. Planet of Peril. man. Animal Astronauts. Prentice. Ace. $.40 $3.95 Lukens, Adam. Alien World. Boure- Caidin, Martin. The Moon; Neiv gy (Avalon). $2.95 World For Men. Bobbs. $5.95 Merril, Judith. The Year’s Best S-F, Eriksen, C. T. Rockets and Missiles. 7th annual. Dell. $.75 SportShelf. $1.00 Moskowitz, Sam. The Coming of the Gamow, George A. A Planet Called Robots (anthology). Collier. $.95 Earth. Viking. $5.75 Norton, Andre. The Stars Are Out! Letbridge, Thomas C. Witches. Rout- Ace, $.40 ledge and Paul (Humanities). $4.50 Selling, Rod. Rod Serling’s Triple-W: Ley, Willy. Harnessing Space. Mac- Witches, Warlocks, and Werewolves. millan. $5.95 Bantam, $.40 Superintendant of Documents of the Spector, Robert D. Seven Masterpieces U.S. Space Science and Technical of Gothic Horror (anthology). Ban- Books, 1957-1961: A Bibliography tam. $.40 with Contents Noted. Washington Spicer, Dorothy G. 13 Witches, 2 25, D.C., $1.00 Wizards, the Devil, and a Pack of Sutton, George. Rocket Propulsion Goblins, (anthology). Coward, $3.50 Elements. Wiley. $10.50 Sutton, JefE. The Atom Conspiracy. Street, P.A.R. Vanishing Animals, Bouregy (Avalon). $2.95 Dutton. $4.50 Thomas, W. Jenkyn. More Welsh Wiig, Nic. The Preoperative Clinical Fairy and Folk Tales. U. of Wales Diagnosis of Lumbar Disc Prolapse, Press. Defour. $2.50 F.A.Davis. $3.75 Beneath the sunny surface of Mr. Ray Nelsonts personality lies an abiding suspicion of many features of our society, the product of several thousand years of human civilization; and this suspicion finds expression in his stories. “I think we are property” observ- ed the late Charles Fort, and to George Nada came this same re- velation when—Lovers of good old-fashioned horror stories wiU relish this good new-fashioned one. You may never trust your television again.

EIGHT O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING

by Ray Nelson

At the end of the show the sign, the Fascinators would in- hypnotist told his subjects, stantly command him to return to "Awake.” his former state, and he would Something unusual happened. obey. One of the subjects awoke all He left the theatre, pushing out the way. This had never happened into the neon night, carefully before. His name was George avoiding giving any indication Nada and he blinked out at the sea that he saw the green, reptilian of faces in the theatre, at first un- flesh or the multiple yellow eyes aware of anything out of the ordi- of the rulers of earth. One of them nary. Then he noticed, spotted asked him, "Got a hght buddy?” here and there in the crowd, the George gave him a light, then non-human faces, the faces of the moved on. Fascinators. They had been there At intervals along the street all along, of course, but only George saw the posters hanging George was really awake, so only with photographs of the Fascina- George recognized them for what tors’ multiple eyes and various they were. He understood every- commands printed under them, thing in a flash, including the fact such as, “Work eight hours, play that if he were to give any outward ei^t hours, sleep eight hours,”

74 EIGHT O’ca-OCK IN THE MORNING 75 and “Marry and Reproduce.” A Someone might have spotted him, TV set in the window of a store noticed that he didn’t respond the caught George’s eye, but he looked way the others did. If George were away in the nick of time. When he alive at one minute after eight to- didn’t look at the Fascinator in the morrow morning, then they would screen, he could resist the com- be sure. mand, “Stay tuned to this station.” “No use waiting here for the George lived alone in a little end,” he thought. sleeping room, and as soon as he He went out again. The post- got home, the first thing he did ers, the TV, the occasional com- was to disconnect the TV set. In mands from passing aliens did not other rooms he could hear the TV seem to have absolute power over sets of his neighbors, though. Most him, though he still felt strongly of the time the voices were human, tempted to obey, to see these but now and then he heard the things the way his master wanted arrogant, strangely bird-hke croaks him to see them. He passed an al- of the aliens. “Obey the govern- ley and stopped. One of the aliens ment,” said one croak. "We are was alone there, leaning against the government,” said another. the wall. George walked up to him. "We are your friends, you’d do “Move on,” grunted the thing, anything for a friend, wouldn’t focusing his deadly eyes on you?” George. “Obey!” George felt his grasp on aware- “Work!” ness waver. For a moment the Suddenly the phone rang. reptilian head dissolved into the George picked it up. It was one face of a lovable old drunk. Of of the Fascinators. course the drunk would be lovable.

“Hello,” it squawked. “This is George picked up a brick and your control. Chief of Police Rob- smashed it down on the old inson. You are an old man, George drunk’s head with all his strength. Nada. Tomorrow morning at eight For a moment the image blurred, o’clock, your heart will stop. Please then the bhiegreen blood oozed repeat.” out of the face and the lizard fell, "I am an old man,” said George. twitching and writhing. After a "Tomorrow morning at eight o’- moment it was dead. clock, my heart will stop.” George dragged the body into The control hung up. the shadows and searched it “No, it won’t,” whispered 'There was a tiny radio in its pock- George. He wondered why they et and a curiously shaped knife wanted him dead. Did they sus- and fork in another. The tiny ra- pect that he was awake? Probably. dio said something in an incom- 76 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION prehensible language. George put faded a little and George saw the it down beside the body, but kept flickering image of a fat middle- the eating utensils. aged man in shirtsleeves. It was "I can’t possibly escape,” still a man when George slashed thought George. “Why fight its throat with the eating knife, them?” but it was an alien before it hit the But maybe he could. floor. He dragged it into the apart- What if he could awaken oth- ment and kicked the door shut. ers? That might be worth a try. “What do you see tliere?” he He walked twelve blocks to the asked Lil, pointing to the many- apartment of his girl friend, Lil, eyed snake thing on the floor. and knocked on her door. She “Mister . . . Mister Coney,” came to the door in her bathrobe. she whispered, her eyes wide with

"I want you to wake up,” he horror. “You . . . just killed said. him, like it was nothing at all.” “I’m awake,” she said. “Come “Don’t scream,” warned George, on in.” advancing on her. He went in. The TV was play- “I won’t George. I swear I won’t, ing. He turned it off. only please, for the love of God, “No,” he said. “I mean really put down that knife.” She backed wake up.” She looked at him with- away until she had her shoulder out comprehension, so he snapped blades pressed to the wall. his fingers and shouted, "Wake George saw that it was no use. upl The masters command that “I’m going to tie you up,” said you wake up!” George. “First tell me which room “Are you off your rocker, Mister Coney lived in.” George?” she asked suspiciously. “The first door on your left as “You sure are acting funny.” He you go toward the stairs,” she said. slapped her face. ‘“Cut that out!” “Georgie . . . Georgie. Don’t she cried, “What the hell are you torture me. If you’re going to kill up to anyway?” me, do it clean. Please, Georgie, “Nothing,” said George, defeat- please.” ed. “I was just kidding around.” He tied her up with bedsheets “Slapping my face wasn’t just and gagged her, then searched the kidding around!” she cried. body of the Fascinator. There was There was a knock at the door. another one of the little radios

George opened it. that talked a foreign language, an- It was one of the aliens. other set of eating utensils, and “Can’t you keep the noise down nothing else. to a dull roar?” it said. George went next door. The eyes and reptihan flesh ^Vhen he knocked, one of the EIGHT o’clock IN THE MORNING 77 snake-things answered, "Who is by the dent in the right fender. He it?” got in, started it, and began driv- “Friend of Mister Coney. I wan- ing aimlessly. He drove for hours, na see him,” said George. thinking— desperately searching “He went out for a second, but for some way out. He turned on he’ll be right back.” The door the car radio to see if he could get opened a crack, and four yellow some music, but there was nothing eyes peeped out. “You wanna come but news and it was all about him, in and wait?” George Nada, the homicidal ma- “Okay,” said George, not look- niac. The announcer was one of ing at the eyes. the masters, but he sounded a lit- “You alone here?” be asked, as tle scared. Why should he be? it closed the door, its back to What could one man do? George. George wasn’t surprised when “Yeah, why?” he saw the road block, and he He slit its throat from behind, turned off on a ade street before then searched the apartment. he reached it. No little trip to the He found human bones and country for you, Georgie boy, he skulls, a half-eaten hand. thought to himself. He found tanks with huge fat They had just discovered what slugs floating in them. he had done back at Til’s place, so “The children,” he thouglit, they would probably be looking and killed them all. for Til’s car. He parked it in an al- There were guns too, of a sort ley and took the subway. There he had never seen before. He dis- were no aliens on the subw'ay, for charged one by accident, but for- some reason. Maybe they were too tunately it was noiseless. It seemed good for such things, or maybe it to, fire little poisoned darts. was just because it was so late at He pocketed the gun and as night. many boxes of darts as he could When one finally did get on, and went back to Til’s place. George got oflf. When she saw him she writhed in He went up to the street and helpless terror. went into a bar. One of the Fas- “Relax, honey,” he said, open- cinators was on the TV, saying ing her purse, “I just want to bor- over and over again, “We are your row your car keys.” friends. We are your friends. We He took the keys and went are your friends.” The stupid liz- downstairs • to the street. ard sounded scared. Why? What Her car was still parked in the could one man do against all of same general area in which she al- them? ways parked it. He recognized it George ordered a beer, then it 1

78 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION suddenly struck him that the Fas- recognized him. “Why, you’re cinator on the TV no longer Nada!” he gasped. seemed to have any power over George didn’t like to shoot him him. He looked at it again and with the poison dart gun, but he thought, "It has to believe it can had to. master me to do it. The slightest He had to kill several more be- hint of fear on its part and the fore he got into the studio itself, power to hypnotize is lost.” They including all the engineers on flashed George’s picture on the TV duty. There were a lot of police screen and George retreated to the sirens outside, excited shouts, and phone booth. He called his con- running footsteps on the .stairs. trol, the Chief of Police. The alien was sitting before the "Hello, Robinson?” he asked. TV camera saying, “We are your “Speaking.” friends. We are your friends,” and “This is George Nada. I’ve fig- didn’t sec George come in. When ured out how to wake people up.” George shot him with the needle “What? George, hang on. gun he simply stopped in mid-sen- Where are you?” Robinson sound- tence and sat there, dead. George ed almost hysterical. stood near him and said, imitating He hung up and paid and left the alien croak, “Wake up. Wake the bar. They would probably up. See us as we are and kill us!” trace his call. It was George’s voice the city He caught another subway and heard that morning, but it was the went downtown. Fascinator’s image, and the city It was dawn when he entered did awake for the very first time the building housing tlie biggest of and the war began. (he city’s TV studios. He consulted George did not live to see the the building directory and then victory diat finally came. He died went up in the elevator. The cop of a heart attack at exactly eight in front of tlie studio entrance o’clock.

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City Zone State Introduction to L E. Jones' THE EYES OF PHORKOS

Spoiled, no douht, corrupted, perhaps, by the cornucopiae of material American publishers supply about their authors, we were a little bemused by a communication we received from Messrs. Rupert Hart-Davis, Ltd., Publishers, of 36 Soho Square, London Wl, Cable Address Ruperto. “Dear Sir, In reply to your letter of the 27th March, we have pleasure in giving below some biographical information on L. E. Jones [it read]. SIR LAWRENCE EVELYN JONES/Born April, 1885/5th Baronet/Educated, Eton and Balliol/President, Ox- ford University Boat Club/Helbert Wagg & Co., Ltd. 1914- 45/Has written the following books;/YOU AND THE PEACE/THE BISHOP AND THE COBBLER/JESUS; DIS- COVERER AND GENIUS/BEYOND BELIEF/A VIC- TORIAN BOYHOOD/AN EDWARDIAN YOUTH/Lives in London/Member of Travellers and Beefsteak Clubs/Yours faithfully, Valerie King (Miss).” Not a word on Sir Lawrence's politics, hobbies, views on Literature or raising children, roses, or dogs. We need not, of course, have stopped at that. We have Sources, we have Resources. But we refrain from using them. If Sir Latorence, and Messrs. Rupert Hart-Davis had intended for us to know more, they loould have informed us. So be it. We are content. Urging a similar British restraint upon our readers, we advise them now to settle down in their chairs (with, perhaps, a glass of sherry and a biscuit), and read this story of the unfortunate Mr. James Carew, his invincible resentment, and the curious—indeed, we may say, singular- discovery which he made in the island of Phorkos, one of the smallest of the Cyclades, not sixty miles north of Crete.

79 THE EYES OF PHORKOS

by L, E. Jones

Even when he had made the ness and the art of give-and-take, most astounding discovery in the through private tutors. There was whole history of archaelogy, also a patient Swiss who succeeded Mr. Janies Carew’s resentment was in making Jimsy’s speech intelligi- not appeased. ble. His father was well-to-do, but It had begun, this resentment of insisted that Jimsy should have an his, as far back as he could remem- occupation, if not a profession. ber. It was aimed against God, his Jimsy, anxious to cut loose from his parents and the world in general. home, was only too willing, but at God for creating him with an enor- every interview with a potential mous nose and nothing that could employer tlie man behind the big be called a chin to counter-balance desk directed his ejTs all round it, no roof to his mouth, and a Jimsy but never at him, and Jimsy deep-red birthmark on the left side was not going to work for that sort. of his face. Against his parents for He knew them, the hypocrites. So their part in that act of creation, when his father died suddenly in and against his mother in particu- Jimsy’s twenty-sixth year, leaving lar for calling him, with Jim or Jimsy a comfortable fortune, he Jimmy at her disposal, by the odi- was still at a loose end. And it was ous name of "Jimsy.” And against then that he met with Sir Mortimer people in general for the way they Wheeler. pretended not to notice his profile, Sir Mortimer was gazing out that flaming birthmark, or his in- from a television set, and he looked ability to pronounce the bulk of the at Jimsy full in the face, and con- consonants. For he knew, oh didn’t tinued to do so without a hint of he just know! what they were real- flinching. And, while calmly con- ly thinking, the humbugs. Very templating Jimsy’s birth-stains, he well; let them wait. One day he talked to Jimsy about digging, would show them. about its excitement and rewards, His parents had been merciful in a w'ay that took Jimsy clean out enough not to send Jimsy to school of himself. Here was a pursuit, it or college, but to educate him in all seemed, full of fascination; one the stock subjects, except manli- that could be enjoyed in far-away,

© 1961 by L. E, Jones. Original title, "The Resentment of Jimsy Carew."

80 THE EYES OF PHORKOS 81 lonely places, and with a minimum been violently shaken by an earth- of contact with evasive humbugs. quake. The correspondent recalled Jimsy was thrilled. He listened to that over twenty years ago Danish Sir Mortimer, on the screen or the expedition had found some promis- air, at every opportunity. He ing indications of a spade-worthy bought his books, and then other site on Phorkos, but that before books; he spent all his waking sufficient progress had been made hours in the study of archaeology to confirm their hopes, an earth- and excavation. He felt in his quake of unusual violence had de- bones that digging was the thing stroyed their diggings, and indeed for him. so contorted the whole area in After a year or more spent in which tlie fragments of prehistoric persevering and intensive study of artifacts had been found that the the subject, Jimsy felt that the time Danes had abandoned the place as had come to dig. There was one ob- hopeless, and no survey had since stacle in his way. To become an been made. excavator, a beginner must attach Jimsy was not without imagina- himself, as a learner, to an experi- tion. “Why,” he said to himself, enced team under a Master; he "should not a second eartliquake must study the method, the know- expose what a former earthquake how, in the field, Jimsy knew this overwhelmed?” He determined to perfectly w'ell, but he could not have a look at Phorkos. About the bring himself to face the conse- island itself he could find out very quences : the eyes of his fellow-dig- little from the books. It was small gers, of the Master himself, search- and barren and lay on the south- ing the air all round his head, ernmost fringe of the Cyclades, not never directed at his own. Luckily sixty miles north of Crete. At its Jimsy had money. Could he but northern end, round the one small find a suitable site for exploration, harbour, clustered Stheno, a little he was determined to equip his town of about fifteen hundred in- own expedition, hire the necessary habitants, dominated by a Frankish labour, and teach himself the ropes castle of the thirteenth century, by trial and error. But how to find solid enough to have weathered a that site? score of earthquakes. For there was And nmv Jimsy had a stroke of this peculiarity about Phorkos, that luck. While reading an archaeo- it was more susceptible to earth- logical journal his eyes fell upon quakes than its larger neighbours. a short paragraph from a correspon- When they had been shaken, Phor- dent in Athens mentioning that Jhe kos had on occasions been rent little island of Phorkos, one of the asunder, as could be seen in the smallest of the Cyclades, had again disorderly confusion of faults and 82 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

chasms at the southern end of the on the quay. He wondered how, island where the Danes had found, and in what form, the news of his and lost, the signs of a pre-Minoan coming could have reached the is- eivilisation. land, but was assured by his inter- Jimsy flew to Athens, engaged preter that the bi-monthly mail- an interpreter, and after two boat was always so received. The changes of boat, sailed from San- bulk of the people Kved by fishing torin in tlie small steamer which or supplying the wants of fisher- twice a week conveyed the mail, men, and since much of the fishing stores, and a few passengers to was done by night, there was no Stheno. He was agreeably surprised difficulty in asserobhng a sixty-per- to find that neither his interpreter cent quorum to watch the mail- nor his fellow-passengers found boat, or any other vessel for that any difficulty in looking him matter, come along side. straight in the face. Either they But the Mayor of Stheno was must have seen worse in their time, above mingling with the crowd on or have felt that a rich Englishman such occasions. He had his dignity could well afford such features. to maintain, and since a splendid The discovery raised his spirits, but view of the quay and harbour was increased his resentment against to be had from the cafe-terrace on the devastating tactfulness of the which he spent his working hours, people at home. he did not lose much by maintain- From the sea, on this fine spring ing it. It was for the Mayor that morning, Stheno was a pleasure to Jimsy asked on landing, and to the look at. Its shabby little houses, caf6-terrace that he was condueted inostly of a dull grey, shone white by a helpful group of about two against the deeper or lighter blues hundred of the citizens. of hill and sea and sky. Through The Mayor was a round little the clear Grecian air, the castle and man in an alpaca jacket, with his its shadow stood boldly out, and hair en hrosse. He shook hands the hill behind, which rose steeply warmly, offered Jimsy a glass of from the harbour to about two that colourless liquor distilled from thousand feet, and thence declined plums which Jimsy, with his un- gently towards the south, had that roofed moutlr, could never hope to natural grace of outline, of curve name, and asked what he could do and fold and corrie, that distin- for the new arrival. The interview guishes the greater mountains of took time, not because the inter- Greece herself. preter had any difficulty in trans- Jimsy was somewhat taken lating Jimsy into Greek but because aback to find a crowd of about two- he felt that politeness demanded thirds of the population of Phorkos that he should convey the Mayor’s THE EYES OF PHORKOS

answers in the nearest imitation give Jimsy the permission he asked that he could manage of Jimsy’s for. For the Mayor could remember own peculiar speech. Fortunately the days of the Danes, and of the Jimsy was so dehghted to find a fel- employment they gave, of their low-creature who, instead of hypo- spending money in the town itself, critically pretending that Jimsy’s and of the hope they had held out articulation was normal, went out of making the name of Phorkos of his way to copy it, that he felt famous, and a centre of interest to no impatience. TTie outcome of tourists. their prolonged and halting con- There was no road, only a foot- versation was highly satisfactory. It path, to the site of the former dig- appeared that the shaken area in gings, but the Danes had, said the the south of the island which Jimsy Mayor, built a small stone quay on wished to survey was the property a rocky inlet for landing stores, and of the one big landowner in the is- there was more than one fishing- land, the possessor of three-quar- boat in the harbour equipped with ters of its total area and of the an auxiliary engine. The Mayor Frankish castle. He was a man of himself conducted Jimsy and the ancient lineage and immense pride, interpreter to tire main tavern in but, since the island was barren the little square, where clean bed- and the castle, except for two rooms were to be had for a price rooms at the base of the keep, a instantaneously adjusted, tlirough complete ruin, without visible the landlord’s presence of mind, to means of subsistence. As a pauper, the pocket of a rich Englishman. he was kept alive by the community Jimsy was then ceremoniously who, in deference to his pride, had shown into the kitchen and invited lodged him, with a minimum of to point out which of several large furniture, in those two rooms. But fish stewing in a giant pan he all lifted their hats to him, and a w^ould prefer for his supper. Final- few of the richer citizens, of whom ly tlie Mayor promised to arrange the Ma5'or was one, had in their for a boat to be ready on tlie mor- charity combined to give him, from row, and Jimsy, although fatigued time to time, the one pleasure left by the effort of making sense to him : to get drunk and forget the of the interpreter’s imitation of humiliation of his venerable line. himself, felt that he had had a At the moment, the Mayor ex- good day. plained, the nobleman was enjoy- Next morning, seen off by a ing, in solitude, one of his spells of crowd of about five hundred souls, blessed oblivion, and could not be Jimsy embarked for the southern consulted. But no matter, the end of the Island. The sea was calm Mayor could speak for him, and and the water inshore translucent; 84 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

the boat chugged away, doing ble. Only three gigantic blocks, the about five knots, and in something shape of French lump-sugar, were over a couple of hours they landed visible, but it was enough. He had at the small stone quay. Two fisher- found his site. men guided him and the inter- In his excitement, Jimsy’s first preter up the gentle slopes to a spot instinct was to shout and beckon whereabouts, the fishermen as- to the three men left on the edge sured him, the Danes had dug. of the gulf. But he recollected him- Jimsy heard them exclaiming in self in time. No suspicion of his tones of surprise; they jabbered find must be allowed to leak out. away, with much wa\’ing of hands, He moved on at once, scrambling to the interpreter who, forgetting and stumbling to the very end of his manners, fortunately reported the narrowing crack, carefully their talk in his customary and ful- scanning the sides, stooping now ly consonanted speech to Jimsy. It and then to pick up and examine appeared that this was their first fragments of the nibble, and re- visit to the place since the recent turning slowly, with care not to earthquake, and that a deep chasm, give a second glance to his precious twenty feet wide at the top and discovery. If only he could have about thirty feet deep, now found means to cover up those tell- yawned, a hundred yards long, tale blocks! But he could not. He where no chasm had been before. must rely upon his powers of dis- "They say, it have come back, simulation. Jimsy scrambled up the old valley where die yellow again at the spot where he had de- gentlemens digged,” said the inter- scended, where the three men still preter. stood. He tried to express in his

Jimsy ’s heart leaped widiin him. normally unhappy and hang-dog So he had been right. What one features still greater discontent. He earthquake did, another had un- shook his head gloomily. “Noth- done. In no time he had slid down ing,” he said to the interpreter. the raw sides of the new-born ra- ‘Whatever those Danes found, the vine, and began to stumble, his earthquakes must have buried. We eyes darting from side to side, have been on a wild-goose chase.” along its rubbly bottom. His luck His last phrase was unfortunate. held. He had not gone forty yards The interpreter in endeavouring to when he perceived, with the feel- pass it on to the fishermen, got ings of stout Cortez, in a slightly himself involved in a long and bar- overhung recess from which a tum- ren discussion. If it was geese the bled mass of stone and earth had gentleman was looking for, he fallen, the exposed surface of Cy- should never have come to Phor- clopean masonry. It was indubita- kos. There were none. Or did he THE EYES OF PHORKOS 85 mean gulls? Then it was to the At three o’clock that afternoon, northern end of the island he must tire hour at which the universal go. But at any rate they understood siesta ended, Jimsy, the Mayor and that his quest had been a failure, the interpreter panted up the stony that they must return defeated to path, little more than a goat-track, Stheno, that tlieir Mayor’s dreams to the castle. The main gateway in of a future tourist traffic, which the outer walls had long ago been had quickly spread through the fiUed with rough masonry, in the town overnight, were not to be ful- interests of defence, and only a filled. Three disappointed and one narrow postern on the landrvard rejoicing man chugged sadly and side provided an entry. They with elation back to Stheno. crossed the dusty stone-strewn en- Jimsy had three days to wait be- ceinte, in which was a well-head fore the mail-boat would again be with bucket and chain, to the leaving for Santorin. He would cavernous open door of the keep. have desperately liked to make a In the doorway stood the master of second, secret visit to the ravine, all, or nearly all, he surveyed. with the tools necessary for cover- In spite of indigence, in spite ing up the exposed masonry. But of drink, the old chieftain was good with the eyes of the whole town to look at. He had a great head and upon him, it was not to be thought a commanding nose; his eyes, of. The one thing still open to him though blood-shot, had authority to do, was to confirm his legal pri- in them; and the hand he held out ority over any other archaeologist in greeting, with long bony fingers, to whom his own reasoning about would have pleased Van Dyck. the recent earthquake might ako There was condescension, but also have occurred. Again fortime fa- courtesy, in his handshake, and he voured him. On the second day of invited his visitors to enter his bare his enforced sojurn the Mayor seat room, in which stood little beyond a message asking Jimsy to do him a deal table and two straw-bot- the honour of a visit. He went with tomed chairs, without a shadow of the interpreter to die Mayor’s cafe- misgiving that the earthen floor, terrace. The Mayor informed him the cobwebbed ceiling, might call that the noble pauper in the castle for apology or explanation. He had now recovered from his drink- waved Jimsy into one of tlie chairs, ing-bout, and was anxious to re- seated himself on the otlier, and ceive the island’s distinguished vis- left the Mayor and the interpreter, itor. If agreeable to Jimsy, the as befitted their stations in life, to Mayor would himself escort him to stand. Although he had nothing to an audience. Jimsy wanted nothing offer in the way of food and drink, better. this seemed to cause him no embar- )

86 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

rassment, for he had something “If tourists are to be attracted,” better: the story of his own de- continued Jimsy, “I must discover scent. On this he immediately em- andques. For that I must employ barked, and since it went back, in much labour and purchase great the direct line, to Perseus, Jimsy quantities of food and stores. Such was able, after a pause for a much- expense could only be justified if abridged translation by the inter- I were granted a sole and exclusive preter, to offer his unfeigned felici- licence to search and dig.” tations. Had Jimsy remembered, The old man looked at the which he did not, that Perseus was Mayor, who addressed him in rapid a son of Zeus himself, he would and lively tones. The old man have been able to add a compliment nodded. “Tell the gentleman,” he or two on die chieftain’s modesty said to the interpreter, “that I will in not mentioning it. (He could grant him what he asks, on one not know that it was not modesty, condition. That I, the owner of but a native shrewdness as to how these buried treasures, and not he, much the Englishman was likely to the excavator, shall present them swallow, that had prompted his to the Museum at Athens.” host to leave Zeus out of it. Since all discovered objects of The story over at long last, Jimsy the sort had, by law, to be given to rose as if to take his leave, then, the museums, this condition cost turning to the interpreter, said; Jimsy nothing, but he now made a “By the way, please ask his lord- serious blunder. ship if he is willing to confirm his “Ask him,” he said to the inter- permission, given dirough Mr. preter, “if, for good order’s sake, I Mayor here, for me to dig for anti- may have this licence in writing.” quities on his property? For al- The interpreter passed this on. though the earthquake has de- The question all but wrecked Jim- stroyed the diggings of the Danes, sy’s hopes. For the old chieftain it may be that a proper survey leapt from his chair: his face turned would reveal other sites. That I purple with rage; he shouted: shall return is certain, if only to “Never has a Perseid been asked renew my acquaintance with so for his given word to be put into distinguished a nobleman, not to writing!” speak of Mr. Mayor himself. But if Jimsy surrendered on the spot. tourists were to he attracted ...” “Tell his lordship that I apolo- At die word “tourists” the noble- gise. I ask for nothing but the word man sat up. It was one of the few he has given. Ask him to excuse English words known to him. Jim- me, since in my country it was a sy saw his interest and pressed his King himself who signed Magna advantage. Carta.” THE EYES OF PHORKOS 87

The old man sat down again. tion on the site of wooden huts for He mumbled and grumbled, asked himself and his labourers; and had what King of England was des- arranged in Athens that a young scended from a contemporary of and keen archaeologist, with more Perseus, but was finally appeased knowledge than cash, should, for a by the Mayor. The interview con- generous retainer, hold himself cluded with compliments on all ready to join Jimsy on the shortest sides. notice. For things might turn up “All the same, you must keep the beyond Jimsy’s competence to eval- old gendeman alive,” Jimsy said to uate. And then Jimsy began to dig. the Mayor as they descended the That he would find something goat-track. of interest, the three giant blocks “We will double his rations,” of exposed masonry made certain. said the Mayor. But that he would find what he did Jimsy returned to England and, find, was beyond the imagination with the help of a few humbugs of any archaeologist, past or pres- who nevertheless understood arch- ent, let alone the ignorant Jimsy. aeological exploration, bought die Jimsy, for all bis inexperience, necessary stores and equipment had the gift of patience, and his and shipped them off to Phorkos, overpaid workmen were astonished in the name of the Mayor. Jimsy at his continuous esdiortations to vaguely talked of the “Near-East” them to “go slow.” Jimsy’s constant to his few advisers and let it be un- fear was that a pick or spade should derstood by them that he had no come in contact with anything definite site in view, and quietly solid other than earth or rock or took a plane for Athens. debris, and it was a delightful sur- When the stores arrived at prise to his men to discover that the Phorkos Jimsy was already in his less they exerted their muscles, the old lodging and had made ever)' more they used their fingers rather arrangement for their reception. than their tools, the better pleased Most of them went into a ware- was their employer. All the spoil house on the quay at Stheno, but was carried carefully away and the tents and tools and a fortnight’s screened, but as the expanse of Cy- supply of food was landed at the clopean masonry grew higher and southern site. All the food and wider and deeper and ever more wine had been purchased locally tantalising, nothing whatever was in Stheno, and the labour for dig- found in its vicinity in the ravine ging hired there. Jimsy had also itself. chartered a motor-driven fishing- The sun blazed, the weeks went boat for the exclusive use of the by. Jimsy and his men looked like camp; had ordered the construc- blacks; the motor-boat brought FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION food and wine and fresh water ev- lordly stones that flanked and ery other day; and Jimsy’s excite- crowned that imposing and dis- ment grew and grew. When a sec- proportionate doorway, had been ond great wall of masonry began to good enough for its purpose. And appear, running parallel to the first indeed better, since, intended as and about nine feet from it, Jimsy a defense against marauders, it had sent his interpreter to Santorin, held its own against earthquakes. whence he could telegraph “Come” Jimsy now knew that with die roof to Dr. Makkas in Athens. and doorway intact, it was more Dr. Makkas came. By the time than likely that whatever the tomb he arrived Jimsy’s men had already had contained would be found, not exposed a pavement at the foot of buried in rubble, but exposed to the monster parallel walls and, view. While a practicable hole was, more exciting still, one or two with infinite precautions, being shafts, sunk from the top of the opened in the wall by his profes- bank, had “struck oil" in the form sional masons, Jimsy and Dr. Mak- of smaller, shaped stones set in kas all but held hands. At length concentric and overlapping rows. the moment came. The workmen “This,” said Dr. Makkas, “can had contrived, and shored widi only be the roof of a bee-hive timber, a hole large enough for a tomb. You will find — I haven’t a man to crawl through. For the last doubt— that the passage between half-hour of their task Jimsy had the great walls will be found to been at their shoulders, attempt- lead up to its entrance.” ing, between their necks, beneath “Another Mycenae?” Jimsy’s their arms, above their heads, or birthmark shone like a red lantern. under their sterns, to direct a ray “Mycenae was the capital of a from his torch into the venerable kingdom on the mainland,” said darkness, far older than that which the Greek. “This is a remote and was over Egypt, visible in the grow- barren island. Do not expect too ing aperture. Then die two ma- much. But let us see.” sons, who like all meridionals had a After six more months of slow, sense of drama, rose together, patient, amateurish digging, they bowed to Jimsy and pointed to the did see. There was a day when it opening. Torch in hand, Jimsy became apparent that the entrance crawled in, followed, nose to stern, from the passage between the great by Dr. Makkas. walls to the circular structure with At the first few passes of his a beehive roof which now stood torch across the level floor of the half-exposed, had been blocked great rotunda, inches deep in fine with masonry, and with masonry dust, he was disappointed. In a that, for all its inferiority to the semi-circle of twenty feet in di- THE EYES OF PHORKOS 89

ameter round the spot where the Voeil. It just did not make sense. two men stood upright, there was Jimsy and the expert were too nothing to be seen but this thick, much flabbergasted to do any soft carpet of fine debris. But when thinking. They spent the rest of the he had advanced a few yards into day bringing out as many as they the cavernous place, and, turning could of their fantastic finds. The his torch back to the right of the en- two masons spent the night in en- trance, began to follow the curve larging the entrance to the tomb, of the wall, he came upon a sight while Jimsy, tossing in his bunk, that took his breath away. felt anything but triumphant; ra- Piled up, pell-mell, against ther he felt more resentful than the wall, in a confused heap sev- ever. He had hoped, when he first eral yards wide and three to four spied those Cyclopean blocks in the feet in height where it abutted on ravine, to make discoveries which the wall itself, was a mass of he might he able, with the help of broken stone figures. Heads, torsos, an expert, to “place,” historically, arms, legs, hand and feet lay piled or rather prehistorically, speaking. in confusion. They were human He had visions of a new display, figures, and the staggering, the in- perhaps a new room, in the Mu- explicable thing about them was seum at Athens. Instead, he found that, so far from being primitive himself the discoverer of a or archaic in form, as befitted the “phoney” cache, in a tomb that indubitable age of their surround- might well be three thousand years ings, they had all been sculptured old or more, of artifacts that, what- with the realistic skill of a Phidias, ever their intrinsic merit, could not or rather of a Michael Angelo. possibly have been created within a Jimsy picked up a hand. Dr Mak- couple of millennia from the date kas a foot, that lay on the edge of of their hiding place. the heap, and carried them to the The next two or three days were opening and out into the sunlight. spent in laying out the broken Never had either of them seen, pieces of the stone figures on the fashioned in stone, so close, so deli- floor of the tomb, now reasonably cate, so precise an imitation of na- lighted from a greatly enlarged en- ture. The most exiguous fold or trance. All the breakages had been wrinkle of the skin of the hand, the clean ones; the stone itself was tiny corrugations on the surface of white and hard as marble, which it a finger-nail, the lines of the palm might well have been; and Jimsy so dear to soothsayers, all were re- and Dr. Makkas bad no difficulty in produced by the artist with unfail- assembling the heads, torsos, and ing verisimilitude. Here was the limbs into their proper positions. supreme, the consummate trompe- And now further puzzles became 90 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION apparent. The sculptor, whoever be both seen and felt. But if eye- he was, had paid no regard to any lashes, thought Jimsy, why not conventional artistic canons. Hard- hair? He passed his fingers lightly ly one of the statues, when put to- over the rounded skull. The sur- gether, had any claims to beauty or face was rough, not smooth to his even dignity. The torsos were for touch. With the magnifying glass the most part slightly misshapen or he could detect, here also, the under-nomished; the faces were broken roots of innumerable, but often mean, sometimes repellent; separated, hairs. What hand, what and the arms and legs, when re- tools, could conceivably have attached to the torsos, were as often worked with a touch so delicate? as not in the most ungainly posi- What known marble would stand tions. Elbows and knees were bent, up to such minute division of its one foot of the same figure flat, the substance? other in a tip-toe position; scarcely Jimsy now recognised that the a statue among them, if restored, uniqueness of his discovery was not could have stood upright upon its so much in the contrast between feet. Although varying in height, the statues and their hiding-place, none exceeded five foot ten inches, as in the figures themselves. Ac- or fell below five feet four. But the counting for their presence in this most astonishing thing about them archaic tomb was a minor problem was not discovered until the third compared with accounting for day of examination. By this time a their existence at all. It was a ques- number of the assembled figures tion not of when, but of how, they had been carried to one of the were created. To what class of ex- wooden huts and laid out on a ta- perts should they be submitted? To ble, in full sunlight, for more in- archaeologists, or to a Chinese tense study. In the dimmer light carver of those fantastic ivory of the tomb, a characteristic of all spheres, rolling freely within one the images seemed to be their total another? He felt helpless and baldness; no attempt had been baffled, and at a loss as to whom he made by the sculptor to imitate, in should turn for advice. stone, human hair. But, sitting at His perplexity was not to be pro- the table in the hut, Jimsy, picking longed. up a head, noticed that, upon one Michali Papastavros, the more eyelid, there were half a dozen intelhgent of the two masons, had, stone eyelashes, faintly curving, during those mouths of digging, be- slender and fine. Taking up his come fired with ambition. Catch- magnifying glass, he examined the ing excitement from Jimsy, he be- eyelids on other heads. The minute gan to dream of some remarkable stumps of broken eyelaslres could "find” to be discovered, not in his THE EYES OE PHORKOS

capacity as a mere workman obey- Michali felt that it would not be a ing orders, but by himself on his lengthy job to fift that stone. The own initiative. He wanted personal important thing was to make sure glory; he wanted his name in the, that he would be alone and undis- newspapers. turbed when doing it. The best During the same afternoon time would be sunrise. It was now when Jimsy and Dr. Makkas had near midsummer, and the sun rose been studying the figures on the a couple of hours before the camp table in the hutment, Michali, who bestirred itself. Moreover, since was careful and trustworthy, had the doorway faced due east, there been carrying on, inside the tomb, would be enough light in the tomb the long slow task of removing to work by. The flash of a torch, pieces from the huddle against the even at that early hour, might catch wall and laying them out on the the eyes of some restless wanderer. floor near the entrance. While so After laying out his tools in the employed, he did make a discovery. tomb itself, Michali went early to While carefully extracting a limb his bunk, but not to sleep. He was from the debris, at a point close far too much excited. He did not against the wall and exactly op- know that in his employer’s hut posite the middle of the doorway, across the ravine, Jimsy, too, could

he uncovered, in brushing away not sleep. Had he known it, he dust with his hand, a small segment would have postponed his opera- of a circular crack in the floor. tion. Realising at once that there was At first daylight, Michali crept something new, he went on brush- out of the hut and made his way, until he had cleared the surface of with many a look around, to the a circular stone, about one foot in tomb. At sunrise he began to work. diameter, let into and level with After three centuries or so, a stop- the floor itself. A glance was per of any kind is apt to stick. This enough; he immediately covered it one was no exception. But the floor up again. He, Michali Papastavros, into which it was sunk was not and he alone, was going to prise up made of solid rock, but of pebbly that stone and be the discoverer of conglomerate, the joint work of what lay beneath. That something time and of the builders of the did lie beneath it he felt assured. tomb. It could be drilled even with Its exact alignment with the centre a hand-drill. For fear of making of the doorway was not likely to be betraying sounds, Michali did not a mere accident. More probably, it intend to use a pick-axe. But at al- concealed the clou of the whole most the last moment, when an- massive structure. other five minutes %vould have With the tools at his disposal, brou^t him to the great moment —

92 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

of inserting the crow-bar, his im- brown sleeveless jersey and the patience got the better of him. He short blue denim trousers. But the struck a few ringing blows with his figure never stirred. pick-axe. “Let them hear,” he Jimsy flashed the torch which thought. “By the time somebody he always carried full upon the arrives I shall have exposed the blasted fellow, standing there like treasure.” He laid down the pick- a bloody statue and taking no more

axe, inserted the crow-bar, lifted notice than . . . His thoughts came the stone, and looked into the to a full stop. If anybody’s hair did cavity. ever really stand on end it must Jimsy was also early astir. Un- have been Jimsy’s at that moment. able to sleep, he left his bunk about For, in the full torchlight, Michali’s an hour after sunrise. Jimsy bad black tliatch, his swarthy face, his little eye for natural beauty, but raven’s wing of a moustache, his even he was aware of the trans- sun-browned arms, were all white parency of the air, the delicate out- marble. And still, with the stillness lines of the gentle peak behind of a stone. which lay Stheno, the lapis-lazuli “Oh my God!” thought Jimsy. of the sea at his feet when he “He is a bloody statue!” And he turned his back to the sun. He stood was. for a few moments in the early Jimsy often thought afterwards, silence, debating whether to go for with a shudder, of how near he had a swim, when he heard, clear and been to going up to Michali and distinct, the sound of a pick-axe. touching him, in which case it was Somebody was at work, and at work a hundred to one that he would inside the tomb. It was against all have glanced down to see what it rules. was that this petrified workman Furious, Jimsy stumbled and was gazing at. Fortunately a kind strode towards the doorway which of panic gripped him, a horror of now, entirely free from the ob- the uncanny, of the incredible, and structing wall, gave at this hour to his legs could no longer obey his the interior a practicable twilight. instinct. And as he stood dumb- He went straight in. What he saw founded, there flashed into his was a figure standing motionless brain a memory from his school- against the opposite wall, a crow- room days. “Turned to stone bar in its right hand, gazing down men turned to stone —why of at its feet. course — the Gorgon’s head! These “Wha’e buyee he?” shouted unaccountable figures, broken and Jimsy, angrier still when he rec- heaped together by the rocking, no ognised the familiar figure of his doubt, of an earthquake— Medusas most trusted workman in the old victims, men who had, poor devils. TOE EYES OF PHORKOS 93 looked into the face beneath the Then Jimsy’s thoughts took a snaky locks! It all hung together. very different turn. He, James Ca- And that figure over there, appall- rew, had made the most astound- ingly still, preternaturally blanch- ing archaeological discovery ever ed, his trusty Michali; what else known, one that could truly be could he be gazing at, but the head, called "inconceivable.” And he the very Gorgon’s head? That could prove it; it would be undeni- lethal head was there, at this very able: let them all come and see for moment, within a few yards of themselves. If tliey thought they himself.” Jimsy turned and stum- could account for the figures, how bled out of (he tomb, collapsed would they account for the petri- upon a heap of rubble and was fication of Michali? He would even violently sick. When he had pulled be able to show them — well no, himself together, his first thought not to “show” them — that mon- was for flight; to make some mon- strous Thing in there must never strously implausible excuse for re- be “seen” again —but waH a min- embarking the whole outfit, and ute, couldn’t it be? Didn’t Perseus turning his back for ever upon the see it, reflected in his shield? (Per- accursed place. But he saw at once seus! — odd that the old chap in that such cowardice was out of the the castle at Stheno — Stheno? had question. The tomb could not pos- he heard that name somewhere be- sibly be left open, to trap who fore? — should claim descent from knows how many victims, and un- Perseus, the slayer of the Gorgon.) less he blocked it with his own Jimsy had no polished shield, but hands, no workmen rebuilding the he had better, he had looking-glass- wall could be prevented from see- es. A little arrangement of mirrors ing tliat motionless white figure —by Jove he’d have to be careful! against the opposite wall. And even —And the Thing could be shown. supposing that he himself had been Jimsy became more and more capable, which he was not, of re- elated, shamefully forgetting the erecting the wall, that it would be tragedy of poor Michali, whe pulled down again was certain. would be “Exhibit A” to the as- There were the Cyclopean walls, sembled, the wondering, the ap- the beehive roof— all must be plauding archaeologists from all buried again without trace. And the world over. what was the use of burying a site Jimsy’s new reverie of towering that had been worked upon by a fame was interrupted by sounds dozen men, most of whom had from the camp. It was beginning handled the broken figures for to bestir itself for the day’s work. days on end. No, abandonment was He must take Makkas into his con- not to be thouglit of. fidence; but first, without a mo- 94 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

ment’s delay, he must see that the “There’s no risk if we’re care- aproach to the tomb was effectively ful,” he told him. barred. Fortunately the only pos- But Dr. Makkas was not afraid sible way to the entrance was for his life. Trembling, and in his through the passage behveen the broken inadequate English, he ex- Cyclopean walls. Jimsy woke the plained to Jimsy that he had a wife interpreter, got from him the Greek and child; that he was at the begin- for "Keep out on pain of instant dis- ning of a hopeful career, but that missal,” painted this notice on a if he, an already highly qualified board, and hung it on a length of archaeologist, was to bear witness barbed wire across the narrow en- to facts which, however true, trance to the passage. From that would and could never be believed, spot the doorway of the cave, even his career would be at an end. So in sunlight, even in the early morn- far from going to see for himself, ing, was nothing but a black hole. he was going to leave at once for He went back to the hut that he Stheno, and he begged Jimsy, in shared with Dr. Makkas. the name of humanity, to give him A man w'ho has worked for many a letter dated the day before, grant- months in the open air beneath an ing him leave of absence or, if Aegean sun cannot exactly turn Jimsy preferred it, sacking him. He pale, but Dr. Makkas’s complexion, would return his retainer and his while he listened to Jimsy’s story, salary; he would praise Jimsy as a did take on a lighter hue. He had great excavator, but go he must. It a quick mind, that took in the was in vain that Jimsy pointed out whole chain of consequences of that the petrification of Michali this, to him, ghastly discovery more was a fact so solid that no sceptic

speedily than had Jimsy’s. While could possibly get over it; that the Jimsy was briefly dismissing the broken figures were ample corrobo- question of attempting to cover ration. Makkas replied that Michali things up. Dr. Makkas nodded; Papastavros could never be made when he turned to his dreams for a public, or even a private, exhibit; the future. Dr. Makkas shook his that any disposition of tliat petri- head. But when Jimsy concluded fied mason other than by immedi- with an invitation to Makkas to ately coffining him and burying come with him at once to the tomb, him in the cemetery at Stheno as with a couple of shaving-mirrors, the victim of an accident, would in order to inspect the Thing, Dr. cost Jimsy his life, whether by Makkas almost yelled at him. pistol, knife, or dagger. "Never, never, never!” he shouted. Jimsy had not thought of that. Damn the fellow, thought Jimsy; It was certainly a problem. Mean- he’s afraid. while he realised that he must THE EYES OF PHORKOS 95

write off Makkas and go on alone. confident that, with the aid of If Makkas was fool enough to re- these mirrors, he would be able to

fuse his share in Jimsy's coming examine, without risk, whatever it glory, that was his own funeral. was drat had retained tlie Gor- With a contemptuous shrug he gon’s foul power of petrifaction. wrote the ante-dated letter of leave, Taking some light deal boxes for paid Makkas the small arrears of supporting the mirrors, he made his salary, and let him go. What his way back to the tomb. excuse Makkas would make to the That he approached the mar- workers for his sudden departure, moreal, brown-jersied figure cir- was not Jimsy’s affair. When, half cumspectly, goes without saying. an hour later, he saw Makkas des- For the first time he now per- cending the track to the quay, with ceived the round hole, with the

two boatmen carrying his bags, he stone stopper beside it, at the feet felt a pang of loneliness. To be the of the staute. Creeping forward at only man in the world who had full length, like a deerstalker, he discovered the truth of a fabulous sounded the depth of the cavity myth was exhilarating; but to carry widi the handle of Michali’s pick- the sole responsibility of disposing axe, which lay at hand. It was not of the marble statue of the late more than nine inches in depth. Michali Papastavros, now standing It was a matter of care, rather in an open tomb within two hun- than of difficulty, to arrange his dred yards of his unsuspecting fel- looking-glasses, with the help of lows, was anything but enjoyable. the wooden boxes, on opposite sides However, at the moment tire ques- of the opening, at such an tion of Michali simulacrum must angle that the reflection of any wait; the urgent busines was to deal object on the floor of the circular with the Thing that had petrified cavity would be thrown by the him. shaving-glass, which had its back Fortunately Jimsy had with to Jimsy, into the face of the op- him, in his hut, two looking- posite mirror, into which Jimsy glasses, one about six inches by could gaze from his prone posi- five framed in wood, the other a tion. That done, he had only to circular shaving-glass on a stem of bind his torch to the handle of the aluminium, fashioned to stand by pick-axe, push it over the centre itself, but with a hook for hang- of the hole, and see, in the oppos- ing, and turning freely on a flexi- ite mirror, whatever there was to ble joint. Remembering the im- be seen. It turned out to be little punity with which Perseus had re- enough, as far as substance went. garded the face of Medusa when There was a good deal of greyish reflected in his shield, Jimsy was dust and, lying in the centre, lilce 96 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

eggs in a nest, two small round He stood upright again feeling metallic objects. They glinted like a god. In his trouser pocket he faintly in the torch-light. had the means of petrifying, at a Medusa’s eyes, thought Jimsy, pinch, all comers. Not that the with a measure of disappointment, idea that he might ever do so for a tinged with relief that three mil- moment crossed his mind. lennia had proved too much for Jimsy returned to his hut, found the snaky locks. The next problem an old, battered but still stout was how to remove them. Jimsy tobacco-pouch of soft leather with felt pretty certain that, since most a flap that fastened with a press- of Perseus must have been ex- button, closed his eyes, and trans- posed to the Gorgon’s gaze, tliere ferred the “eyes” from his hip- was no danger so long as he pocket to the pouch. This he re- avoided looking at the lethal little placed in a hip-pocket which objects. But Perseus lived a long could be buttoned up. time ago, and a myth might not He tlien sat down to consider be foolproof. On the other hand, the problem of Michali. That if no part of him was ever to be Michali had put on weight was un- exposed to those marble-like eyes, deniable, and Jimsy was far from there was nothing to be done but muscular. A fleeting idea of some- push the stone stopper into place how dragging the statue down to and leave them where they were. the sea, casting him in and leav- Jimsy would not for a moment ing his jersey and denims at a consider such poltroonery. spot where the workers sometimes Having assured himself that the swam, was dismissed in an in- blank stony eyes of Michali’s stant. He could nev^er do it single- statue were gazing directly at the handed; besides, the sea that bottom of the hole, he decided to lapped that rocky coast was en- risk the tip of one little finger. A tirely translucent when calm. stone tip to one finger would not Sooner or later Michali would be be a disaster; indeed it would be a seen, in his whiteness, through most striking piece of evidence for tire clear sea-ivater. Then again, his discovery. He pushed the little while Dr. Makkas’s talk of a coffin finger of his left hand over the and a burial at Stheno had been near rim of tire cavity. Nothing absurd, he had been perfectly happened. So Jimsy shut his eyes right in saying that the loss of one tight, wriggled forward, plunged of his workmen must be accounted his right hand boldly into the for, and that island opinion would hole, gathered the pair of tiny be outraged at any attempt to use globes, and transferred them to the poor chap as an exhibit. Un- his ri^t trouser pocket. less — and Jimsy suddenly saw THE EYES OF PHORKOS 97 how simple the solution was. The only a thought more mobile than whole camp must be taken into his his late nephew. He was still more confidence, he told the whole comforted by the strange discovery story in detail, and be shown that these unsophisticated island- Michali where he stood. Nobody ers could take a miracle in their had been to blame except possibly stride. They were concerned about Michali himself. A suggestion that fetching an Orthodox priest, cy- the statue, which had a certain air press branches, candles, and a long of nobility, resting on a crow-bar white nightgown in which to and gazing down at its feet, might clothe their petrified companion, eventually be set up at Michali’s but they said nothing about mov- own memorial in the cemetery, ing him from the tomb. There was might even be welcome to his a great deal of heads being put to- friends and family. After all, gether, conversations in hushed thought Jimsy, straightforwardness voices; and when the foreman is always best. The men had not came to ask Jimsy’s leave for the yet scattered to their tasks. Jimsy use of the motor-boat, on its re- sent the interpreter to gather them turn, in order to fetch the priest together. They sat in a circle in and the bare funeral necessities, front of Jimsy’s hut and, sentence he earnestly begged that Michali by sentence, the interpreter un- might be left where he was until folded to them the implausible the priest should arrive. for . Jimsy, story. all his impatience to tell the world, “We will now,” said Jimsy, "pay was shrewd enough to see that the our last respects to our comrade,” co-operation of these simple souls and he led a silent, awestruck might be vital to his plans; and procession to the doorway of the since no steamer would be leaving tomb. Here there was some nat- Stheno for another four days, he ural hesitation, but Jimsy assured decided not, as he had first in- them that diere was no danger. tended, to go in the boat with the The lethal Things were safe in his men, but to make it a point with own keeping. He led them in, and them that he, the leader, would re- they stood in a statuesque half- main in camp to protect the tomb circle, as silent, as immobile, as from any profane intrusion. the figure at which they gazed. His patience was well rewarded. Later on, Jimsy was reassured During the twenty-four hours by finding, on enquiry, that Mi- while the funeral committee was chali had been an orphan, was un- away, and no work was done, the married, and that his sole relative men left in the camp had nothing in Stheno was a great-uncle so to do but to discuss the matter be- crippled with arthritis as to be tween themselves. Jimsy saw to it 98 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

that the interpreter should “listen only the Mayor, but, on a stretch- in,” all tact and sympathy, to their er, the arthritic uncle. Even before discussions. His report to Jimsy the arrival of the boats a trickle of was highly satisfactory. It was, it sightseers had reached the camp, seemed, generally agreed that a thirsty and much fatigued, by the rairacle could only come from landward track, but Jimsy had so God; that although this particular successfully discouraged the first miracle had struck a man dead, it batch by hints of danger, and by had also transformed him into a flat refusals to supply either food tiling of pre-eminant beauty and or drink, that a grapevine mes- dignity; tliat the actual instru- sage, running back towards the ments of this ennobling change town, had put an end to the nui- must be the relics of a Saint; and sance. that the proper course now would The priest, as much a peasant be to consecrate the tomb as a as the workmen, had no difficulty Christian shrine, put a canopy in accepting the miracle; and, over Michali, enclose the relics in after Michali had been suitably a casket, and, by encouraging a dressed in a temporary nightgown, constant flow of devout, and not performed the due rites in a tomb necessarily impecunious, pilgrims, brightly illuminated with candles, return thanks to Heaven for the before a makeshift altar. Jimsy ob- honour done to the island of served with inward satisfaction the Phorkos. The interpreter had even growing confusion in the minds of heard a whisper of “tourists.” the kneeling congregation; one or All tills suited Jimsy’s book two of them genuflected towards down to the ground. For since the Michali before leaving the tomb. defection of Dr- Makkas, to have As regards tbe future, the priest been compelled by public opinion had no suggestions to make. That, to coffin and bury Michali would he said, lay in the hands of his have been fatal to him. The superiors, to whom he would make broken figures might be inexplica- a full report. He did, however, en- ble, but nobody, short of seeing quire whether Jimsy M'ould care to Michali in situ, would believe in entrust what he called “the relics” the Gorgon’s eyes. It now looked to himself. He promised to house as if public opinion was going to them in a worthy manner, pend- be Jimsy’s strongest ally. ing the decision of the ecclesiasti- Thirty-six hours later the depu- cal authorities. The Mayor, who tation arrived from Stheno, its was present at this parley, winked numbers much increased, and fill- at Jimsy when the word “relics” ing several boats. There was not was used. For unlike the priest, he only a priest but the Mayor; not was moderately well educated, and —

THE EYES OF PHORKOS 99

the idea of a shrine to St. Medusa While tire boat was chugging tickled him greatly. But he said back to the northern end of the nothing. For he was shrewd island, Jimsy noticed that the enough to see at once that if the priest, in the bows, was talking story Jimsy had confided to him most earnestly, and with a look of was right, and Michali had in fact perplexity, to the interpreter. At been petrified by the Gorgon’s length tire interpreter came, step- eyes, the truth was too staggering ping over thwarts, to the stern to be believed. But a miracle where Jimsy sat with the Mayor. well, look at Lourdes! The Mayor’s The priest, he told Jimsy, had cold thoughts ran forward to fantastic feet. He felt he had been carried and delicious lengths. away by the novelty and excite- Jimsy was able to put off the ment of this strange miracle; but priest by explaining that the “rel- what would be said to him by his ics” —he did not confess to having superiors for having read the bur- them in his hip-pocket, snug in a ial service over an unburied lump battered tobacco-pouch —were not of stone? In retrospect it seemed Jimsy’s to dispose of. They be- not merely irregular but outra- longed, for the time being, to the geous. And a miracle that killed landowner in his castle. There an innocent man? Could it really was, moreover, a law relating to be of God? Might not, instead, achaic discoveries. The priest some power of evil, some pagan- might be sure that they would be devilry, have been at work. reverently taken care of. Fortunately for Jimsy, the scrip- Satisfied that, for the time be- ture lessons of his early youth had ing, his cherished “Exhibit” was not been wasted. He had an excel- safe and in no danger from the is- lent memory, and being himself, landers, Jimsy decided to return as we have seen, quick to suspect to Stheno with the priest and the and to resent a slight, he had been Mayor. He had no difficulty in greatly struck as a boy, by Jeho- persuading the Mayor not only to vah’s treatment of Uzzah. Uzzah sign a collection of warning-off had been not merely innocent, but notices, stuck round the perimeter had tried to be helpful : an ox had of the camp, but to confer upon pecked, the Ark of the Covenant the now idle workmen, to whom had begun to slip and Uzzah had Jimsy had dealt out arm-bands, put a hand on it to steady it. For semi-official status as guardians of that he was struck dead on the the site. Nobody was to be al- spot, not because he was guilty, lowed access to the tomb without but because the Ark w'as holy. a written permit from the Mayor Jimsy told the tale to the inter- or Mr. Carew. preter. —

lOO FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

“Go,” he said, “and remind the While the priest and the Mayor priest of this story of Uzzah, and went among the crowd, explaining ask him whether Michah may not that, although an undoubted mira- have been petrified not for any cle had occurred, no decision fault, but because he was interfer- about Papastavros could be taken ing, although unknowingly, with until the Bishop’s pleasure was the holy relics buried in the tomb?” known, Jimsy himself was button- The interpreter scrambled back holed by the Press. into the bows. He could not, as The Press of Stheno consisted ordered, remind the priest of Uz- of the lawyer’s clerk, who received zah, because the priest had never a nominal retainer from a press- heard of Uzzah, having only the bureau in Athens to send news of scrappiest acquaintance with the accidents, earthquakes, homicides scriptures; but he did relate the and so on. He had prepared, he story to the priest, with considera- said, a short telegram to be sent ble animation and suitable ges- by tomorrow’s boat to an associate tures; and the priest was perfectly on Santorin who would relay it by willing to take the word of a rich cable to the head office. It read: Englishman, even if a heretic, Michah Papastavros of Stheno that it occurred in Holy Writ. The accidentally petrified yesterday holiness of holy things, especially while digging southern end of relics, was a familiar idea to Phorkos Stop Relics found him. He nodded, and the perplex- miracle suspected Stop Ecclesi- ity left his countenance. astical authorities being in- “That was a fine stroke of busi- formed. ness,” the Mayor whispered to “I am afraid they will query the Jimsy. “I don’t suppose the high- word ‘petrified,’ said the Press, up ecclesiastics will he taken in, “but that can’t be helped. If they but they move like tortoises, and do I shall have to say ‘turned to meanwhile St. Medusa will, I stone,’ and blow the expense.” hope, be standing on her own Jimsy was most polite. legs.” “Your telegram is correct,” he “I only need a week or so,” said said, “but I think the message Jimsy. should be expanded and made per- “I need years and years,” said haps a little more authoritative, I the Mayor. will pay for the cable. Shall we go The crowd that met them on and have a drink?” the quay at Stlieno was enormous, Jimsy, the Press, and the inter- for a rumour had gone the rounds preter, went to a cafe, and there that the effigy of Michali Papa- Jimsy drafted the following mes- stavros might be with the party. sage: THE EYES OF PHORKOS 101

Please give follovping to Reuter archaeologist, which Jimsy was for widest distribution Stop not, and his word would be ac- Mr James Carew the British cepted. archaeologist today announced On arriving in Athens, Makkas in Stheno that one of his work- went straight to Reuter’s office. men M Papastavros was turned The result was that, three days into stone after uncovering before the arrival of Jimsy’s own Gorgon’s eyes in pre-Minoan message, the newspapers of Europe type beehive Danish site south and America had received news Phorkos Stop Beehive contains that Dr. Makkas of the Archaeo- many petrified human figures logical Institute at Athens had, Stop Eyes in safe keeping Stop with his partner Mr. James Carew, Full despatch follows Stop uncovered a prehistoric beehive Georgopoulos Press Agent Sthe- tomb on Phorkos containing nat- no. uralistic stone figures of unknown “There,” said Jimsy. “Send that date, but sculptured with a skill off by tomorrow’s boat, and if we exceeding that of Phidias, Michael are not botli in the headlines of ev- Angelo, or Canova. The more pop- ery newspaper in Europe and ular papers took no notice of this America by Saturday, may I be item of news; the serious ones turned to stone.” printed it, without prominence, The message was sent, but Jim- and asked their archaeological ex- sy was not in the headlines on perts to comment. The experts re- Saturday, or any other day. One plied that, without seeing the fig- thing he had overlooked was that ures, any worth-while comment Dr. Makkas had caught the would be impossible. One or two steamer for Santorin the very day suggested to their editors that they he left the camp, and by this time might care to send them out to was in Athens. And Dr. Makkas, Phorkos. while travelling homewards, had Accordingly, when Jimsy’s own had leisure for thought. Because “Gorgon” cable was received, the he would and could have no part newspapers looked upon it as a in the Gorgon story, was no reason silly leg-pull. Somebody, for pri- why he should not share in tlie vate ends, was making public fun glory of having discovered the bee- of an obscure Mr. James Carew. hive tomb and the unique figures With two exceptions, they took no it contained. They were there to notice of it whatsoever. The ex- be seen; sensational enough to sat- ceptions were The Timas and the isfy the wildest dreams of any ex- Daily Hooter. The Times sent the cavator. Jimsy had not pledged story to Mr. Bernard Darwin, sug- him to secrecy. He wap a qualified gesting that it might be used for a 102 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

Fourth Leader, and a very amus- doubled had been in the ascend- ine one he wrote, speculating upon ant. A meal on the plate is worth which of the many classical meta- two eyes in a pouch to a mal- morphoses might be the next to nourished man. But now that he recur. But the Hooter felt that had eaten his first double meal, he there might be a “story” behind the was full of congratulations to hoax, and that even Dr. Makkas’s Jimsy. Although he had always claims about the strange statuary, known that tlie exploits of his an- although of little interest to their cestor Perseus had been historical, own readers, would have to be in- not mythical, he had been made vestigated, and that the Hooter sadly aware, throughout his life, might do worse than be first on the that this was not the world’s view, spot. Within twenty-four hours or indeed that of any living person Professor Digges and Charlie but himself. So it was delightful Grubb, their most facetious story- that he had been proved right. maker, were flying out to Athens, “Let me see those eyes now," he with orders to find their way to said to Jimsy, stretching out his Stheno and make contact with hand. "We have a saying in Mr. Georgopoulos, Press Agent. Greece, you know, that seeing is Meanwhile Jimsy decided to re- believing.” main in Stheno, until the news “It wouldn’t be in this case,” should break upon an astonished said Jimsy. "A stone man can be- world. For he felt pretty sure that lieve nothing.” reporters would seek him out by The old man was highly amused helicopter. It would never do for at his own blunder. He next raised him to be “not at home” when one the question of the custody of the of these buzzing machines de- precious eyes. As their proprietor scended, as it must, either in it would be only right, he said, venizelos Square or upon the that he should take care of them; quay. Meanwhile he hoped to hear he had an egg-box, and several the news break from the island’s cartons. But when, through the in- one wireless-set in working order terpreter, Jimsy had explained to which was housed in the Mayor's him how lethal the objects were; favourite cafe. Jimsy’s first duty, the dangers from theft or acci- of course, was to visit the old man dent; the absolute necessity of in the Castle, the legal proprietor keeping them under lock and key, of the contents of Jimsy’s tobacco- and preferably in an underground pouch. He found the old fellow in vault, the old chieftain reluctantly the highest spirits. At first his gave in. Jimsy did not mention pleasure at the Mayor’s announce- that at the moment they were in ment that his rations were to be his own hip-pocket. THE EYES OF PHORKOS 103

The days of waiting for news, which was to be proved correct, for the bursting of his bombshell, that he had come all this way for were the happiest of Jimsy’s life, nothing. The usual crowd was on had he but known it. With every- the quay, and Grubb, as he stepped body looking him straight in the ashore, asked his interpreter to face, with a unique achievement enquire from the crowd at once, to his credit, with a Gorgon’s eyes and in a loud voice, for Mr. in his tobacco-pouch, Jimsy’s life- Georgopoulos, Press Agent. Mr. long suspicions and resentments Georgopoulos, who had never be- had abated. For the first time he lieved in the helicopter but had experienced the pleasure of being entertained hopes of the steamer, an averagely decent human being, pushed his way forward and in- instead of a war^ied misanthrope. troduced himself. He quickly told For three or four days Jimsy was a the visitors of the whereabouts of nice man and, for all his impa- Mr. James Carew, and offered to tience, enjoyed it. Even the sur- conduct them at once to the caf^- prising lack of any mention of the terrace. Gorgon “on the air’’ from Athens The caf^-terrace was small and could not seriously ruffle Jimsy’s crowded with square wooden ta- new contentment. bles and iron chairs. It was raised On the afternoon of the fourth a few feet above the level of the day after the despatch of Jirasy’s street, which had no houses on its message, the Santorin steamer ar- seaward side. A few stone steps rived. Jimsy, still expecting a heli- led up from street to terrace. copter, did not go down to the Because of the arrival of the quay, but, sitting with the Mayor, steamer, the only customers at the watched its arrival from the caf^ tables were tire Mayor and Jimsy. terrace. The first passengers off There was no question as to which the gang-plank were Charlie was which; the tubby little Mayor Grubb, an interpreter and Profes- with hair en brosse and alpaca sor Digges, in that order, Grubb jacket was clearly a native, wliere- was not a bad little chap; brash, as Jimsy, long-limbed, fair-haired, and a “go-getter,” as he had to be in a clean linen shirt and grey to hold down his job, but one who flannel trousers, clearly was not. preferred persuasion to bullying What Grubb was quite unprepared when on pursuit of a “story.” Pro- for was Jimsy’s face. For an instant, fessor Digges was learned, shy and as he mounted the steps, he saw it pessimistic, after a long career of in profile: that huge tapir-like excavating relic which had turned nose, that complete absence of out to be of later date than he had chin, that flaming birthmark. By hoped. He had a foreboding. the time Jimsy had turned full- 104 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

face to greet the visitors, Mr. little man, after all, was his first Grubb’s curiosity had yielded to contact with the world’s press. The his kind heart. Approaching Jimsy truth, not a punch in the face, was with outstretched hand, the re- the thing to give him. porter looked, not at Jimsy, but at Jimsy gave him the truth, the air all round his head. speaking, if not clearly, which In a flash Jimsy’s new-born needs a roofed mouth, at any rate niceness fell from him. "The calmly and deliberately.

bloody hypocrite,” he thought, Charlie Grubb grinned. So it’s flooded in an instant with all the me, he thought, not him, that’s ancient, hot resentment. When having his leg pulled. The nerve! Professor Digges, too, remember- But we’U soon see. He decided to ing his nurse’s teaching about the play up a little. sinfulness of staring, gazed at a "And where, Mr. Carew, arc point beyond Jimsy’s shoulder, it the eyes now?” was almost too much. But he recol- “In my pocket,” said Jimsy. lected his imminent triumph, “You don’t say!” said Charlie. which was to make him humbug- "Can I see them?” proof for good, and took himself in “You bloody fool!” shouted hand. Charlie Grubb went straight Jimsy, beginning to tremble. "Do to_the point. Professor Digges, he you want to be turned to stone?” explained, had come to examine “I’ll risk that. Just one peep, and to report upon the stone fig- Mr. Carew!” ures in the tomb, but he, Grubb of "I tell you these are Gorgon’s the Daily Hooter, wanted to know eyes. They petrified my workman, about the leg-pull. The blankness Michali Papastavros. And they’ll of Jimsy’s expression surprised do the same to you.” him. Surely the bad-form joke, “Not me, they won’t,” said sent out over Mr. Georgopoulos’s Charlie. “I was born Gorgon- name, must have got back to proof.” He grinned again. Stheno by this time? "You call me a liar, do you?” “The hoax/’ he said. “The Gor- Jimsy was shouting mad. gon story!” And he handed Jimsy “No, no, Mr. Carew. Only a a typed copy of Jimsy’s own des- joker.” patch. Jimsy rose to his feet. His Jimsy was beside himself. All first impulse was to knock the lit- the accumulated resentments of tle reporter down. But there was twenty-seven years came in that something frank and disarming instant to a head, and exploded. about Grubb’s manner which ab- He had always said he would solved him from personal responsi- "show them,” and by God he bility. Jimsy sat dowm again. The would! He put his hand to his hip- THE EYES OF PHORKOS 105 pocket, whipped out the tobacco- the towering sense of power, of pouch, closed his eyes, tore away triumphant, irresistible power, the flap, and shook out the twin that held him captive. When, in a balls into the hollow of his palm. matter of seconds, movement re- He closed his fist again, shot out turned to him, he could almost his arm, and opened his fingers. have thrown his arms round the ” “All right, peep he 3'elled, white, cold neck of the reporter to closing his fist and opening his thank him for discovering to Jimsy eyes a second later. It was fortu- his new potency. For Jimsy had nate that the height of the terrace now, there was no doubt about it, above the street, and the fact that the world at his mercy. He who the table at which the Mayor and can petrify, is King. Jimsy had been sitting was set He exaggerated, of course. But back against the wall of the cafe, as far as the little world of Phorkos effectively shielded, by a matter of went, Jimsy could, for a time at inches, the eyes of the gaping least, do as he liked. He had nar- crowd from even a glimpse of rowly escaped petrifying some Jimsy’s hand. Had it not been so, scores of people by accident. Let the street would have been made the rest, then, do as he bid them, impassable by a segment of massed or . . . statuary. As it was, the result of Jimsy’s first motion was to re- the explosion, under intolerable turn the “eyes,” under cover of his strain, of Jimsy’s pent-up rage fingers, to the pouch, and the was, considering everything, re- pouch to his pocket. His next was markably small. The effigy of the to look at tlie Mayor. The Mayor’s late Charles Grubb was still grin- eyes were still tightly closed. Jimsy ning. That of the late Professor shook him by the shoulder. Digges still looked mildly pessimis- “Wake up,” he said. “They’re tic. That of the late interpreter safe in my pocket again.” had a puzzled expression, but this The Mayor looked at the three was entirely due to his perplexity statues, and shuddered. Jimsy over the words “leg-pull” and called for his own interpreter, who “hoax.” The Mayor had shut his usually slept on a chair in the caf6 eyes when the tobacco-pouch ap- during Jimsy’s sessions with the peared. Nobody else was petrified Mayor, but had been woken by except, figuratively, Jimsy himself. Jimsy’s final yell. It was not the shock of the “Tell Mr. Mayor,” he said, crime which, in his sudden rage, “that the little man in front com- he had committed that momentar- mitted suicide — or should I say ily struck Jimsy motionless. On suipetrifaction? ha! ha! The oth- the contrary, it was the immense, ers, poor chaps, were turned to 106 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION stone by sheer accident. He had “Mr. Mayor,” said Jimsy. “You better explain it to the people.” have been a good friend to me, and It certainly was high time. For I am obliged to you. But if you the crowd, surprised by Jinisy’s al- are going to take that line, I may most maniacal yell, were jostling have to — er — to show you some- up the steps on to the terrace. They thing.” gaped, amazed, at the three effi- The Mayor shut his eyes. gies. And then they turned their “Show away,” he said. eyes on Jimsy. They were Greeks, Jimsy laughed. “I didn’t mean with a venerable and scrupulously now,” he said. “But we had better observed code of hospitality to come to an understanding. I want strangers. Jimsy did not at all Kke no more stone men on this island the looks in those fierce black eyes. — I want live men to work for me, He backed himself up against the to make me comfortable, and to do cafe wall. my bidding. I shall not interfere “But tell them first,” he said with your own functions, or with hurriedly to the interpreter, “tell the administration. I shall not ex- them from me, that I have the pect much, for I have simple Gorgon’s eyes here, in this pouch.” tastes, but what I need I mean to He took the pouch from his pocket have. The digging promises well. and held it up. We shall soon, you can be sure, “Tell them,” he continued, “to have plenty of visitors to Medusa’s beware lest there be further un- shrine. They will spend money. fortunate accidents. Tell them We shall be a very happy family.” that I, the custodian of these “Bossed by a murderer?” asked sacred relics whose power they the Mayor. have seen, advise them strongly to “Now, now,” said Jimsy, hap- go quietly to their businesses or pily fingering the pouch. their homes.” The Mayor reflected. He was ut- The crowd, without waiting for terly helpless at the moment. He the Mayor to speak, took Jimsy’s couldn’t live with his eyes shut. advice and went. And even if he managed to cap- “I am sorry about those two,” ture Jimsy and give him over to said Jimsy to the Mayor, pointing justice, what court would listen to the life-like statues of ]^ofessor for a moment to a charge of mur- Digges and the interpreter. “They der by wilfully, and with malice got in the line of fire. It was just aforethought, exposing the eyes of bad luck. But the little man asked a Gorgon? Nobody had seen what for it. It was suicide.” happened. He himself knew it, be- The Mayor was a brave man. cause he had heard Jimsy’s yell of “It was murder,” he said. “All right, peep!” But Jimsy would THE EYES OF PHORKOS 107 plead that Mr. Grubb could have the interpreter to return from his shut his eyes, or looked the other shopping, with plans for his new way. Jimsy was a murderer all life as the unofficial Dictator of right; but it could never be brought Phorkos. home to him. He himself, perhaps, The interpreter knocked at the some day, with a rifle —but the door, Jimsy opened it wide enough Mayor was far too law-abiding to to admit a piece of chamois-leath- pursue such thoughts. He threw er, and sat down at his table. It up the sponge. He must do his was lucky that he had remembered best for his people. to drop his camp housewife into “Very well,” said the Mayor. his bag before leaving the diggings. Jimsy liad no doubts what to do For Jimsy was a pretty good cob- next. He did not quite trust the bler, and with the scissors and Mayor. He did not trust the people stout thread in the housewife he at all, after seeing that look in soon contrived, from the chamois- their eyes. It would be difficult, he leather, a pair of finger-stalls, one felt, with Charlie Grubb’s grin- for the little finger of each hand. ning, and the Professor’s melan- He next snipped off the end of choly, effigies standing there on each finger-stall, leaving holes that the cafe-terrace, for the inhabitants would expose about a third of each to recapture, or share, the mood of “eye,” bound the edges of the holes the few who had attended the thus made with patch-thread as if obsequies of Michali Papastavros. they were button-holes, closed his It would be unsafe, at any rate for own eyes, extracted those of the the present, to rely on the “holy late Gorgon from his pouch, and relics” notion taking hold of the dropped them into the tips of the Phorkians at large. Decidedly, he finger-stalls. He next bound patch- must make himself more secure. thread tightly round the stalls just After requesting the interpreter above the “eyes,” isolating them in to go and buy a square of the best snug pockets, and contrived a cou- chamois-leather obtainable, Jimsy, ple of wash-leather caps to fit over holding the tobacco-pouch promi- the tips of the finger-stalls, but nently in his right hand, crossed long enough to be instantly with- the square to his lodgings. Such drawn, if neccessary by his teeth. few people as were about slunk Lastly, he drew the stalls over his into side-streets. “So I am sus- little fingers and made them fast pect,” thought Jimsy. “But what with tapes tied round his wrists. matter; they are afraid.” Arrived Jimsy now felt that, except in at his lodgings, Jimsy locked him- the dark, he was a match for all self into his bedroom, and occu- comers. A finger-tip can be point- pied his mind, while waiting for ed, with extreme rapidity, for- 108 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION ward, sidewaj’s, or backwards, and his lodgings, die whole town had with t^vo finger-tips, the field of fire visited the eafe-terrace to stare at can be mueh enlarged. For quiek- the stone men, and to discuss the ness on the draw he had fivo un- new miraele. There was already a rivalled weapons, and weapons disposition among many of the which, provided he eould attract people, seared as they had been at his attacker’s eyes to his hands, the first shock of a public petrifac- were incapable of missing. At tion, to opine that Mr. Grubb, night he must either sleep in arti- like Michali Papastavros, must un- ficial light, or lock himself up in wittingly have offended the "Rel- some place far more secure than ics.” And when Jimsy and his in- these lodgings; by day he would terpreter erossed die square to the undoubtedly be master of Phorkos. cafe they found a sizeable swarm For a seeond time Jimsy felt like a of eitizens standing, in animated god, but like a god, this tune, w'ho and interehangeable groups, about meant to make the most of his al- and upon the cafe-terraee. Grubb’s mightiness. There were one or two small figure was hidden by the things to be looked to immediate- moving throng; the still white ly, and Jimsy lost no time in get- faces of the lankier Professor Dig- ting to work. First, it was as well, if ges and his interpreter gazed, he was to walk freely about the very still and steadfast, above the town, that the population should shifting black heads of the crowd. be made aware diat he carried the Jimsy mounted the steps to the lethal “rehcs” in his finger-tips. terrace, the people making a lane Secondly, he had no intention of for him, and elimbed upon a chair letting tihe steamer leave for San- placed against the wall of the eafe. torin except at his own will and He held out his two hands, the with passengers holding permits litde fingers of each hand alone signed by himself. Thirdly, he extended, and, with the interpret- meant to live, for greater seeurity, er translating sentence by sen- in the Castle, and there would be tence, made a simple little speech. need both of furniture and of “My people,” he said, “I think strong men or mules to carry it. I may call you that since I have in (For no vehicle could hope to these two finger-tips of mine the negotiate the goat-track that led to means of turning you all instantly the postern.) Jimsy foresaw for to stone. But, my people, I have himself a busy afternoon. no intention of doing anything of In the matter of spreading tlie sort, provided you obey me. knowledge of the deadly finger- My commands will be few and stalls, there was little difficulty. simple. By agreement w'ith his Since Jimsy had disappeared into lordship —an agreement whieh I —

THE EYES OF PHORKOS 109 propose to make later on today Having visited the cafe-terrace, I shall live in the Castle, com- the Master was, as Jimsy had ex- fortably I hope, but not luxurious- pected, entirely at his service. The ly. I have no intention of interfer- last formality was to visit the old ing with Mr. Mayor, the police, or chieftain and to commandeer the the laws under which you live. I Castle. Jimsy climbed the stony myself shall devote myself to dig- path, practising all-round point- ging, and to building and arrang- ings with his fingers as he climbed, ing a museum which I have no the interpreter bending and dodg- doubt will be the most celebrated ing behind. The old man, who had in the world. And the world will heard all about the affair on the flock here to see it. You must busy caf^terrace and Jimsy’s speech, yourselves with building hotels for was standing in the doorway of the them to stay in, and stocking shops keep to receive him. There was a for them to buy in. But from time certain magnificence about him. to time I may demand something, "It has been a great satisfaction or some service, from each or all of to me, Mr. Carew," he said, “to you. In these occasions you will hear that the story of my great an- satisfy my demands instantly or cestor, Perseus, has now been or be taken to the statuary-room publicly proved to be history, not in the museum. I think that is all, legend. I am much beholden to thank you. No, one more thing: you. But I should be unworthy of pray stay where you are until Mr. my name and blood if I surren- Mayor—who will please step up dered my Castle to you. You must, here after this meeting—has chos- I fear, find other accommodation.” en from among you those who will The interpreter construed, and supply, and those who will carry Jimsy bowed. up, the furnishings of the Castle. "I see your point, sir,” he said. I shall also need a cook.” "And you will certainly make a Jimsy held out his hands once noble statue, standing there to again, little fingers out-stretched, gaze over your ancient demense. I and descended from his chair. promise you that you shall be left After explaining to the Mayor his where you are, although we may very moderate requirements at the have to bring you forward a few Castle, Jimsy went down to the feet to clear the doorway.” Jimsy quay and sent for the Master of then stepped back a pace or two the steamer. To this bluff sailor he and aligned his little fingers upon explained the use of the finger- the old man’s face. stalls, and his rule about permits. "Could you manage to look just The Master, before sailing, was to a leetle bit pleasanter?” he said, in call on Jimsy for his personal mail. the wheedling tone of a photog- no FANT.^SY AND SCIENCE FICTION rapher. The speed with which the Georgopoulos, ordering that rather old gentleman closed his eyes, frightened Press Agent, who knew dropped upon all fours, and began the ropes, to despatch it from San- to crawl back into the doorway torin to the Daily Hooter. Angry was astonishing in one of his age. as he had been with Charlie Grubb ‘‘All that I have is yours. Mas- for his sceptical levity, he was an- ter!” he yelled. grier still with the w'orld’s press Jimsy pulled him up to his feet. that had so far taken no notice of “I am most grateful, sir,” he him whatever. The Daily Hooter said. “What about a rent of a hun- had at least sent not only the in- dred drachmas a day for these adequate Grubb, but a real Pro- new lodgings of mine?” fessor of Archaeology, and the The proud old pauper kissed Daily Hooter should be rewarded Jlmsy’s hand. with the melancholy but unde- The first of the Mayor’s im- niable “scoop” of first recording pressed working-party carrying up the fate of its emissaries. Jimsy carpets and mattresses and lamps even went to the quay to see Mr. were already at the postern when Georgopoulos off by the steamer, Jimsy turned to descend to the which he directed to sail at once. town. That evening Jimsy sat in There were to be no permits for his living-room in the Castle writ- other passengers on tliis trip. What ing his first detailed despatch to Jimsy did not know was that Mr. the world’s press and he slept, with Georgopoulos carried with him the door double-locked, the small his own version of events for his high window barred and shut- Athens correspondent, and that tered, and several lamps burning the Captain had in his pocket a in the room. For the first time in letter, handed to him at midnight, his life Jimsy was afraid of the from the Mayor of Stheno to the dark. Early next day a boat was Inspector of Police at Santorin. sent to the diggings to fetch four of For the sergeant and two police- the workmen protecting the tomb. men who lounged about Stheno They were all devoted to Jimsy, in good weather, but avoided and on subsequent nights they crowds, rows and rain, were a de- kept guard, turn about, on the tachment from tlie more powerful narrow postern in the Castle’s force, consisting of an inspector, outer wall. Like most of the island- two sergeants, and a dozen police- ers, they had the knack of becom- men, which had its headquarters ing armed men without recourse on Santorin. to any armoury. Next morning Jimsy had a busy morning. The Jimsy walked down to the town sudden and early departure of the and handled his message to Mr. steamer upset many of the fisher- THE EYES OF PHORKOS 111

men and fruit-growers whose Jimsy, for whom the “holy relics” crops and crates were left upon view of the Gorgon’s eyes was the the quayside, and Jimsy feeling it one most favourable to his plans, important to be popular before the again reminded the priest of the darkness of another night should story of Uzzah, as an explanation descend to disarm him, had to of Charlie Grubbs’ sad fate, the negotiate with them about com- priest had pointed out the unfit- pensation for those perishable ness of Jimsy's finger-stalls as a goods. Then the priest came to resting place for such sacred and confer with him about the three wonder-working objects, and had statues on the cafe-terrace. Jimsy pleaded for a suitable casket, would have liked to leave them preferably of gold or silver, to be there as a constant reminder to the kept in the church. Jimsy’s reply people, but the priest, who had no of "All in good time" was weak, hopes of guidance from his pro- and he knew it. He began to specu- crastinating superiors for many late in his own mind as to how days to come, was insistent that soon he would be compelled to they should be moved to the ceme- add the statue of an ecclesiastic to tery. Jimsy pointed out that they the island’s growing collection of were undoubtedly Protestant, and such things. Although Jimsy had in the case of the Professor prob- never heard of Lord Acton, the ably agnostic; but the priest main- truth of that eminent Victorian’s tained that whereas that was a famous dictum was. once again be- good reason for not holding a ing proved in his anxious self- burial service, it was highly unbe- communings. Feeling a little nerv- coming, if not indecent, to leave ous, he called at the grocer’s for a the poor fellows among the tables few empty paper bags which he at which people were eating and stuffed into the side-pocket of his drinking. The Mayor sided with jacket. the priest, and Jimsy felt it pru- The steamer arrived at San- dent to give way. Ropes and a torin in the later afternoon. Mr, mule-cart were sent for, and with Georgopoulos at once repaired to a good deal of shouting and sweat- the post-office, and the Captain of ing the three effigies were hauled the steamer sought out the In- away and laid, side by side, with- spector of Police. By next morn- in the cemetery walls. ing both the manager of the Daily Apart from this minor defeat, Hooter and the Inspector at San- Jimsy was not altogether happy torin were taking steps. Although about this conference vdth die both Jimsy and the Mayor, in their priest, who had considerable in- respective messages, had narrated fluence in the town. For when the bald truth about the events on 112 F.\NTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION the caf^-terrace, neither of these of the little vessel. The steamer two gentlemen was able to regard was more than half-way to Phor- the messages as strictly factual. kos when a telegram from Athens The manager of the Daily Hooter arrived at the Inspector’s office in did, however, abandon the "hoax” Santorin directing him to take a theory for the opinion that Mr. sergeant and six men, armed with James Carew was a raving, and carbines and revolvers, to Stheno, possibly a dangerous, lunatic. The there to investigate the reported fact that no news whatever bad death of two Englishmen and an come from either Grubb or the interpreter, and to arrest, if neces- Professor made him anxious. It sary, a suspected lunatic called was possible that this madman James Carew. The Inspector had had indeed made away with them. anticipated his orders neatly He decided to put through a call enough. to the British Embassy in Athens, In the late afternoon the and ask tirat the Greek police steamer was sighted approaching should clear the matter up. Stheno, and the usual crowd be- To the Inspector of Police at gan to gather on the quay. Jimsy, Santorin tlie thought of lunacy the interpreter, as always, by his also occurred, but in this case the side, was among the first to take lunatics were his old acquaintance post near the landing-stage, but the Mayor of Stheno and the Cap- with his back against the wall of tain of the steamer. He recognised the small stone building belong- the Mayor’s handwriting; he lis- ing to the steamship company. As tened to the Captain, looking as the steamer entered the little har- normal a tanned sea-dog as ever, bour, he was taken aback to see on describing the petrifaction of the board of it, not, as he had ex- three visitors. But petrifaction was pected, only the Captain, Mr. something that just did not hap- Georgopoulos, and the deckhand, pen. There was only one thing to but seven or eight other passen- do, to comply with the Mayor’s re- gers. He then remembered that he quest and to go and see for him- had forgotten to tell the Captain self. Early next day he boarded that incoming, as well as outgo- tlie steamer with a sergeant and ing, passengers must carry permits. six men, all armed with carbines When, however, the steamer was and revolvers, and set sail for within a couple of hundred yards Stheno. The Captain, he had to of the quay, Jimsy, who had good admit to himself, appeared to be eyes, recognised the uniforms and perfectly sane. All the same, he the carbines of the police. both watched and humoured him Although Jimsy w'als by now re- as he stood by him on the bridge garded by the populace crowding THE EYES OF PHORKOS 113

on to the quay as a man to be seconds for Jimsy to apply the dreaded and obeyed, they had no mouth of the bag to his own, in- thought of him as a criminal who flate it with his breath and bang it might interest the police. Only the with his other hand. The report of Mayor and Jimsy himself knew the bursting bag was clean and him to be a murderer. Jimsy, con- clear as that of a pistol. All the scious of guilt, and, in his igno- faces of the police, including that rance of law, unaware, as the of the Inspector, turned as one Mayor was not, of the difficulty face towards the sound of the the law would have in bringing bang, Jimsy tore the cap from his him to book, had no doubt what- right little finger-tip, and eight ever that the police were coming uniformed statues stood motion- to arrest him. Not only must that less before him. be prevented; the police must be Once again, as on the cafe- given no chance of explaining terrace, Jimsy’s luck had held. their presence to the crowd, So, Owing to a pile of crans and crates while the boat was tying up, Jimsy upon the wharf, holding the fish made his plan. The wall of the and fruit for which Jimsy had building against which he was paid compensation, none of the leaning was not more than twenty people stood upon the quay im- feet from the shoreward end of mediately behind the file of po- the gangway. The crowd, seeing licemen. Jimsy had again, by a the armed policemen about to matter of six feet or so, avoided a land, fell back, surprised and a wholesale petrifaction of “his” little frightened, from the edge of people. Only one small boy, fish- the quay. The Inspector landed ing from the rocks six hundred first, followed by the sergeant and yards to the north of the harbour his men. The Inspector stood with had happened to glance towards his back to the crowd, and the ser- the town, and he fell into the sea, geant ordered the men to fall in, a small squatting effigy grasping a in single rank, facing the Inspec- fishing-rod. tor. The sergeant called them to Jimsy’s mind was getting ac- attention, and took position in line customed, under strain, to work- with them, on the right. They ing quickly. He must, here and were not facing Jimsy, but a half- now, give some explanation of his turn to the right would enable action to the crowd. Moving side- them to do so. Jimsy put his hand ways, back to the wall, he turned into his side-pocket and withdrew the corner of the building and one of the grocer’s paper-bags. faced the main body of sightseers Having been a past-master of the on the quay. The buzz of voices art in his youth, it was a matter of was becoming clamorous and ex- 114 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

cited, but by exploding a second move the statue of Michali, now paper bag Jimsy managed to at- so miraculously sanctified by the tract the attention of the denser hand of God, to the place of trial, part of the crowd, now beginning probably in Athens itself. Our to press forward towards the un- holy shrine would have been dese- moving and white-faced row of crated. It is probable that a curse, policemen. not a blessing, would have been “Call for silence,” he said to the upon this island. interpreter, and even those on the “My people, I have had to take

ragged edge of the swarm obeyed strong measures, but it was done the call. for the sake of your future and "My people,” said Jimsy, with tliat of your children and grand- his hands extended, “you have children. The consequences may just witnessed a sad, but unavoid- call for— all our courage, but with able, event. You will remember these— ” and Jimsy held his hands the sudden flight of Dr. Makkas, high “I am invincible, and God, within an hour of the miracle who has done this marvel for us, which occurred at the diggings. I will surely not now abandon us.” suspected then the real reason for The interpreter did his best and his departure, but, from mistaken there were some cheers, but Jimsy loyalty to a colleague, I held my was not altogether happy at the tongue. The time has come to result. The people were not dis- speak. Dr. Makkas, when told by persing as he had hoped; they were me of the fate of Michali Papa- staring, with obvious disquiet, at stavros, refused to enter the tomb. tbe statues in uniform, or gather- Why? Because, my people, he saw ing in groups to argue and gesticu- that by accusing myself or some late. Jimsy himself still standing other member of our party of do- against the wall, was hesitating ing away with Michali, who was what to do next when he caught certainly no longer alive, he could sight of something that made his cause our arrest and trial. You heart sink. Quickly as his mind know the law’s delays. By the time and worked after the sudden petri- we had been acquitted, as we faction of the police, it had not must have been. Dr. Makkas worked quickly enough. There was would have established himself as a thing he had overlooked. While the true discoverer of treasures he had been haranguing the mob, which are about to bring undying the Mayor, who for once and for fame to Phorkos. What is more, as his own reasons had forsaken the that cunning and envious man no caf4 to mingle witli the crowd, doubt foresaw, it would have been had slipped over the gangway, necessary, for our defence, to re- given a hand to Mr. Georgopoulos THE EYES OF PHORKOS 115 and the deckhand in casting off, would stay. But he must keep his and was now, with his back reso- head and not hurry to his refuge. lutely turned towards the land, Any sign of fear would lower his making for the companion-way as prestige and gravely handicap him the steamer slowly turned in a in the urgent business of victual- half-circle towards the mouth of ling the stronghold for weeks, per- the harbour. Jimsy shouted his haps for months, of siege. loudest; the Captain stood, head It would have been a relief to averted, facing seawards. It is Jimsy had he known the real mood doubtful whether he even heard of the people at this juncture. Jimsy’s cry through the churning They were, in fact, more critical and creaking of the venerable of the Mayor, for forsaking them, steam-boat. Not only had Jimsy’s than of Jimsy. That the affair of own means of escape gone (for his the police would have serious re- renewed consciousness of guilt percussions they knew. But to the made him unwilling to trust him- independent and self-sufficient self to an islander and a fishing- Phorkians the sudden arrival of so boat), but the one man who knew many armed policemen had been him to be a murderer, even before an incivility amounting to outrage, the petrifaction of the police, was and they preferred the man who now out of his power. That the had repulsed the aggressors to the Mayor would start something on a man who had run away. Their very different scale from that of Mayor had borne a reputation for this contemptible posse of police courage. They felt both betrayed seemed certain. That the authori- by, and insecure without, their ties would use bombs or bombard- natural champion. ment against one man seemed un- Jimsy, on the other hand, had, likely. But what about a shower of by the baseness of his slanderous parachutists? Jimsy’s lethal fingers attack on Dr. Makkas, become could not point in all directions at even a worse man than he was be- once. He did not exactly panic, fore, and the more despicable a for he had at least thirty-six hours character, the greater his suspi- in which to make his arrange- cions and his infirmity. While sit- ments, but he must make a plan ting at a cafe table with pencil, and act upon it without delay. paper, listing enormous quantities The main thing was to be, and of tinned provisions, dried fruits, to remain, where he could never fuel, oil and other stocks neces- be surrounded. The Castle, with sary for a beleagured castle, he its immense strength and one nar- betrayed unusual impatience and row postern, was the very place. irritation with the interpreter, There he would go, and there he whose job it would be to com- 116 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION mandeer tliese things from a peo- townspeople of the sin of Ananias, ple as prudent as tliey were penu- but was forced to admit to himself rious. The interpreter indeed, that final triumph, if it came at fearing failure, urged Jimsy to ac- all, would not be achieved by tir- company him. Where he met with ing out his besiegers. If only he reluctance, a flourish of the finger- had not let that steamship go! stalls might, he felt, do wonders. One piece of good news did But by now Jimsy liked to have a reach him. The effigy of the little wall at his back. During daylight, boy on the rocks had been found, he decided, the cafe-terrace, which glimmering up from the sea-bed, commanded so much of the town, and recovered by a search-party. should be his headquarters. By For the first time Jimsy knew that nightfall Jimsy’s vicarious pillage the Gorgon’s eyes could petrify at of the inhabitants was well ad- six hundred yards. Why not at vanced; shops and storehouses had even longer ranges? He foresaw disgorged the bulk of their con- the possibility of capturing the tents into the narrow streets, and steamer, of bringing down a plane mules had been bespoken for sun- full of parachutists, before either rise. The interpreter reported a could unload their complement of ready, if sullen, obedience, and in armed men. While the parents of the last of the light Jimsy climbed the boy were weeping on the to his refuge, with much looking rocks, Jimsy was chuckling in the over his shoulder on his way. The Castle. He must think of a way of old chieftain was bidden to de- attacking, at a distance, the gaze scend to Jimsy’s old quarters in of a pilot or a erew. All the same, the town, and Jimsy, with sentries be took care to send his interpreter posted, again locked himself into to condole with the small, squat- a barred and shuttered room, to ting effigy’s family, and to pur- pass a restless night made stuffy chase the largest metal wreath to by oil-lamps. As his sense of power be had. began to diminish, his resentment Meanwhile the Mayor, who had against the world in general in- luckily caught a faster boat at creased. Santorin, had arrived in Athens At dawn the procession of laden itself. He lost no time, with the mules up the steep and stony help of Mr. Georgopoulos, in put- track got under way. Jimsy was ting through a call to the Daily appalled at the scantiness of the Hooter. Avoiding any mention of loot, as it lay in inconsiderable petrifaction, he confirmed the heaps against the walls of the deaths of Charlie Grubb and the outer enclosure. He cursed the Professor, accused Mr. James worried interpreter, suspected the Carew of being responsible, and THE EYES OF PHORKOS 117 suggested that tlie newspaper The conference at the Ministry should send out a plenipotentiary of Health, between the Mayor and by the next plane to meet him, the the Daily Hooter man on one side Mayor, at tlie British Embassy. of the table, and on the otlrer side The reply delighted him. The a succession of officials, each sen- Daily Hooter had already des- ior to the one before him, and con- patched their man, and told the cluding with the Minister himself, Mayor where he was to be found. was a long and difficult one. In- The Daily Hooter man was a deed at one point it had to be ad- live wire. The Mayor found him journed for a couple of hours or busy with arrangements for char- more, until the pilot of the light tering a helicopter just in time to aircraft returned from Phorkos stop such folly. There must be no with his photographs, and even landing on Phorkos. What they then the Ministry yielded to the needed was a light plane equipped Mayor’s pleas only on condition for taking photographs. The Daily tlrat all expenses whatsoever Hooter’s money soon secured such should be borne by the Daily an aircraft, and the Mayor briefed Hooter. Fortunately the represent- the pilot by means of a rough ative of tliat paper, hardened scep- sketch. Here was the quay with tic as he was, could smell a good tire eight stone policemen; there “story” and, his instructions being was the cemetery, with the statues to discover, at all costs, the truth of Grubb, Digges, and their inter- about Professor Digges and Char- preter laid in a row by the wall; lie Grubb, he undertook to in- here, at the southern tip of the is- demnify the Ministry for whatever land, was the beehive tomb, It was sum the Mayor’s plan might cost difficult to get tire pilot to under- it. So it was late in the day when stand that he must direct his cam- the Mayor at length visited the era, but never his eyes, at these Chief of Police, astounded that of- places, and that he must rely upon ficial with the pilot’s photographs a reflection of his target in a look- of the Santorin contingent stand- iirg-glass attached to the outer ing at attention, with stone-white edge of the cockpit. But his fee faces and hands, on the quay at was generous eirough to make him Stheno, and restored his spirits

fall iir with any whim. with a letter from the Minister of “And now,” said Mr. Georgo- Health requesting him to hold his poulos to the Mayor, “I will take hand and take no action until you to the Chief of Police.” what was already being called "You will not," said tire Mayor. “the Mayor’s plan” had been given “You will take me to the Ministry its chance. of Public Health." 'The Mayor had had a busy day. 118 FANTASy AND SCIENCE FICTION

A hundred and twenty miles bre background of the casde wall. south, on Phorkos, the day had At the same time Jimsy aimed his also brought its excitements. Jimsy uncapped fingers at the pilot. had remained In the Castle enclo- Nothing happened. And as the sure, superintending the rear- aircraft turned, Jimsy saw a bright rangement, round the walls of the flash at the pilot’s right shoulder, larger room in the keep, of the where the sun caught for an in- stores that had been dumped by stant the arrangement of mirrors the sweating and unsmiling car- prescribed by the Mayor. Then he riers. About midday one of his sen- knew. It was a bitter thought that tries shouted. Jimsy ran to the Jimsy’s device for securing the postern, and saw a small aero- Gorgon’s eyes in safety should now plane approaching from the north, be used against himself. its nose already tilted downwards. Jimsy had the chagrin of watch- There was no possible landing ing the circumspect young pilot place on the island, but the plane’s accomplish his second sweep over rapid descent showed that it was the quay, then turn seawards, cir- bent on reconnaissance. It was a cle, and return very low to fly over civilian plane, and unlikely to be the cemetery. Photography, of armed. But it might be about to course. After two runs over the drop leaflets from the Government cemetery the plane took a wide or the Mayor, with instructions sweep over the harbour and away which could do Jimsy no good, at down the coast to the southern end best. He must somehow attract the of Phorkos. In ten minutes it could pilot’s attention. The report of a be seen, well out to sea, gaining rifle would be no more effective height as it returned towards the than that of a paper bag. The sig- no^. nal must be unusual. He sent a All that day and the next Jim- man to snatch a sheet off Jimsy’s sy’s interpreter spent in the caf4, bed, but it came too late. The air- Ifctening to the wireless. But no craft had already dived to fifty feet word came to show that Jimsy’s or so, and was skimming the quay sensational message to the Daily well below the level of the spot Hooter had attracted any atten- where Jimsy stood. Having passed tion in the outside world. That almost directly over the heads of somebody was thinking about the eight statues in uniform it rose Jimsy and his exploits was proved again, to circle round and make a by the visit of the aircraft. But that second dive in the contrary direc- somebody was keeping his plans, tion. Now it was higher than whatever they might be, to him- Jimsy, and he and his man flapped self. the sheet madly against the som- The suspense was not improv- THE EYES OF PHORKOS 119 ing Jimsy’s temper, and it was would be as good as two. He de- undermining his self-confidence. cided to dig a trench, four feet Feeling certain of being attacked, deep and four feet wide, across he must make up his mind how this passage from rock to wall, and best to defend himself in the event. to place the second “eye” upon a He had already dismissed, as has white dinner-plate at the bottom been seen, any thought of flight in of the trench. An attacker keeping a fishing-boat. And in any case he his own gaze steadfastly upon the was still obsessed with the thought ground as he advanced, and com- of his own overwhelming power of ing upon the trench, must of ne- petrifaction. With only a narrow cessity look into it, to judge how postern to defend, he would surely best to negotiate the obstacle. And be master of all comers by day. a shiny white plate, in the very And by night, back to the wall in middle of the open pit, was bound a lighted room, he could surely go to catch his eye. True, the digging on making stones of his attackers of this trench, which would be until the doorway was blocked known all over the town, must in- with statues and they would be evitably damage Jimsy’s prestige. glad to make peace on his own It would be taken for what it was, terms? a sign of fear. But, now that life There was one point which itself was at stake, prestige hardly cause him anxiety. Even by day counted. Jimsy must rely on his his attackers would be able, by good Gorgon’s eyes, and on tliem keeping their eyes on the ground alone. Damn it, he thought, I as they climbed, to get within a have only got to call the whole yard or two of tlie postern without town into Venizelos Square, get risk. The postern, as has been my back against a wall, and petri- told, was on the landward side of fy the lot, and they know' it. the outer wall of the enceinte. The digging of the trench occu- Within a few yards of that wall, a pied the rest of that day. The only rocky precipice rose abruptly for a annoyance was that when, in the hundred feet at least, and, for the last of the daylight, Jimsy de- last ten yards before it reached the scended into the trench to ar- postern, the path to it led through range, with his eyes shut, the plate a passage betiveen wall and preci- and the “eye,” the statue of a too pice only a few yards wide. After curious shepherd-boy slid over the weighing the losses and gains, top of the precipice and was shat- Jimsy decided that, in so narrow tered on die path within a few an approach as the postern itself yards of Jimsy’s head. It would and the ten yards beyond it, one cost him another wreath, but at finger carrying an “eye” in the tip least reminded him to send down 120 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION one of the guards to the cafi, with deal speedier than the one in orders to the interpreter to warn which the Mayor had sailed. All the town that the Castle was now steamers approaching a port ap- "out of bounds.” pear, to those watching from the The next day was entirely with- shore, to move with irritating out incident but during the en- slowness. To Jimsy, already on suing night Jimsy’s bodyguards, edge with suspense, this one together with the cook, deserted, seemed all but stationary for whole taking with them the larger frag- minutes together; then suddenly ments of the shepherd boy. Jimsy he realised how much detail was was now entirely alone in his already to be picked out by a sharp stronghold. and attentive eye. At one moment He cooked his own breakfast, he could not make out if there and later went outside the outer were many or no passengers on the walls of the Castle to a point forward deck; at the next he could where, on the seaward side, he see a crowd of human figures col- could watch the comings and go- lected there. Jimsy’s heart leapt ings in the town below him. At within him. He had expected a eleven o’clock most of the inhabi- strong force to be sent against tants went in procession to the him, but that, after hearing the cemetery, to bury the bits and Mayor’s own tale, it would remain pieces of the shepherd boy. Jimsy below-decks on approaching the wondered whether his wreath was land. Then it came back to him. among the rest. It was a wonder- The Mayor had escaped on board ful morning, there was neither before the boy on the rocks had wave nor wind on the sea, the is- been petrified at a distance of six land of Santorin, pale amethyst, hundred yards. No doubt Mr. was just visible to the north; the Mayor thought of the Gorgon’s swifts were shrilling about the eyes as a sort of shotgun. He had keep, and the trill of the cicadas only seen them work at point- was incessant. None of which blank range. Jimsy even noticed. He looked al- At approximately a thousand ternately at the town below him, yards Jimsy “opened fire” with his at the sky to the northward, and at right little finger. The steamer the sea which, today, so faithfully came steadily on. At five hundred reflected that sky. yards Jimsy could see the men on It was about noon when Jimsy deck moving freely about, and first spotted the steamer. As it leaning over the rails. He aimed slowly grew larger, it struck him again and again; the range was that it was not "the” steamer, but now shorter than that at which "a” steamer, larger and a great the boy on the rocks had been THE EYES OF PHORKOS 121

toppled over. His blood ran cold, building. By the time the steamer as the saying is. Could the Gor- was alongside, the quay was de- gon’s eyes have lost their power? serted. Was he now a hunted and utterly Shouts from the bridge shamed defenceless criminal? Jimsy ran a couple of officials to leave the back into the Castle, and took the shelter of the Steamship Office sheet from his bed. Returning to and, with eyes circumspectly his look-out post above the town, downcast, to catch the mooring- he again waved the sheet as he lines and handle the gangway. had done so vainly at the aero- The disembarkation began. plane. By this time the crowd First came the Mayor, his eyes was hastening to the quay to bent on the ground. Behind him, watch the arrival of the steamer. in single file, came about sixty men, Jimsy was in all their thoughts and strong, active, and tanned, but many of them glanced up at the without uniform of any sort, not Castle to see if he was about. See- carrying visible arms, but each ing the white sheet wave, they with a light cord about his waist. to it. "Look! He is surrendering.” Their eyes, like the Mayor’s, were “He is afraid.” “He wants to par- downcast, and from time to time ley.” A flicker of upturning faces each touched the back of the man ran, like cat’s paws, over the sur- in front, to avoid loss of contact. face of the crowds. With a little So the Mayor had not taken any more patience Jimsy might have chances about Medusa’s effective bagged the lot. But he was in a range, thought Jimsy. He could fever to test the eyes. He dropped not help admiring the discipline the sheet and pointed his fingers. of the unexpected troop, who The Gorgon’s eyes had not lost could look over the rail of a steam- their potency. Jimsy saw before ship while approaching a strange him, still and stone-white, four harbour without once raising their hundred faces at least. eyes from the sea. And yet, he The appalled people of Stheno, thought, how childish, how laugh- bumping against rigid and un- able. It was not getting to close yielding neighbours, knocking quarters that was the problem for them down, tripping over them, his attackers. It was the final barking their shins against their grapple, and for that they must at oldest friends, their dearest rela- last look up. tions, panicked. Many lost their Jimsy watched, with a sense of heads and looked up to the source power so renewed by the whole- of the disaster, becoming in their sale petrifaction of the crowd and turn solid, white, and obstructive. the panic that ensued that he mo- The rest took cover in the nearest mentarily forgot how desperate 122 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION was his plight, the Mayor and round, and began to let himself his followers snaking their way slowly, down. When his feet through the town. He laughed touched ground, he bent down aloud when the Mayor stumbled and felt the rigid body of tlie over the effigy of an old crony, or Mayor with his hands. He then had to feel his way, hands out- walked slowly along the ditch, stretched, betw’een a forest of measuring with his arms. stone figures. But the Mayor could “Obstacle,” he shouted back. have found his way in the dark. “Four yards long, four feet deep, Although blown, shocked and containing stone body of Mr. grief-stricken, the game little man Mayor. Keep touch with the wall emerged, his long train intact, on on the left and follow me.” And to the path that led up to the Cas- then he lifted up his head and tle. Slowly and deliberately he be- looked straight at Jimsy with a gan to climb. pair of dark inexpressive eyes. Jimsy had one ineffective "shot” Jimsy uncapped and aimed. The at the steamer, and walked slowly man took no notice but, climbing back to the postern, pulling after out of the ditch and feeling for the him the light plank he had lain wall with his left hand, unloosed across the four-foot ditch. He the cord from his waist and held would stand in the narrow postern it in his right. It was a noose. itself and deal, one by one, with And now Jimsy knew. The man such of his attackers who might be was blind; they were all blind. able to cross the ditch upon the That march %vith the downcast stone bodies of those who fell into eyes had been nothing but a cun- it. ning stroke of the Mayor’s, to pre- In ten minutes the Mayor, who vent Jimsy detecting their blind- had paused to recover his breath, ness and making his escape in came round the corner of the Cas- time. For the first time Jimsy lost tle wall. Head bowed, eyes bent, his head. Instead of tiptoeing out, he came steadily on to the edge of past the line of blind men in the the ditch, and fell forward into it passage, and fleeing up the moun- literally stone-dead. Jimsy chuck- tain, he panicked and retreated led at the success of his ruse. But into the Castle yard. The chances his amusement did not last long. of Public Enemy No. 1 escaping The man behind the Mayor, a from Phorkos by night in a stolen great strapping good-looking peas- fishing-boat were small indeed, ant, shouted “Look out!” over his and smaller still the likelihood of shoulder, paused, and began feel- reaching a place of safety. But to ing with one foot over the edge of back through the postern, as he the pit. He then sat down, turned did, meant the end of Jimsy, THE EYES OF PHOKKOS 123

Jimsy’s end was not mercifully tween them they could make that swift. It was rather mercilessly narrow exit impassable. The re- drawn out, as no doubt he de- mainder, guided by the leader’s served. When the Mayor, at the quiet voice, entered deliberately, end of that prolonged conference one by one. They looked very at the Ministry of Health, had slow, very clmnsy and tentative, finally persuaded the Ministry to to Jimsy. But when the long string allow him to collect, by means of of them crept round by the wall motor-buses and motor-launches and, then, hands on each other's paid for by the Daily Hooter, a shoulders, advanced in line to- body of blind men from their wards the keep, Jimsy began to homes or institutions on the main- feel less certain of himself. He tip- land or the island, he had stipu- toed to the well-head, over which lated that only volunteers must be a great iron hoop was arched, taken, picked for their strength from which hung the bucket and and resource. Nearly all were chain. Should he slide down the peasants; nearly all had been blind chain and stand in the bucket, from birth; all were accustomed which hung above the water about to hard work and rough ground. twenty feet down? He stood on They had developed the sixth the wall of the well-head, grasped sense of the blind as to the neigh- the hoop in one hand and reached bourhood of walls; their sensitive out for the chain with the other. ears could pick up the small be- The chain creaked, and the buck- traying sounds of men or animals, et, swinging, rang against the wall even at rest, tlie rustle of vegeta- below. Jimsy glanced at the blind tion, the movement of air through men; tlrey had heard the creak; a door. It did not seem to them their line bulged forward as those much of a problem to track dovim, in the middle quickened their pace seize, and bind with their cords a and made towards the well. No, it man in an enclosure not sixty would be a death-trap. yards across. At first Jimsy did not Next he had a bright idea. The quite appreciate this. He saw him- quick bulge in the line had left a self, young and nimble dodging gap where the left-hand man had these slow, groping, unseeing men stuck to the wall and dropped his until exhaustion should relax their hand from the shoulder of the man pursuit, and by some ruse leave on his right, drawn away from him the postern for a moment un- by the loop in the line. Jimsy de- guarded. cided to fill the gap, to become one The first man halted at the of his pursuers, to march with postern, the second took up his them until, failing to find their position over against him; be- quarry, they should decide that he 124 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION must, after all, have found a confusion, towards the sound of means of escape. He took off his the shout. As Jimsy crept away on shoes and barefoot, crept towards his bare feet the sharp pebbles the gap. As the line drew up to which lay all over the enclosure him, he turned about and placed hurt him cruelly. He must get his hand upon the shoulder of the back his shoes at all costs. He man on the right of the gap. hooted and hallooed. “Euryale,” said the blind man, The Mayor, in his hurry, had quietly. Jimsy, falling into step, briefed, but not rehearsed, his said nothing. “Euryale,” said the army. Once their line was broken, man again, more distinctly, turn- and the quarry had given tongue, ing his head towards Jimsy as he these blind peasants, forgetting did so. This time the man by the the drill, began to hunt on their wall, a couple of yards from own. For twenty minutes or so it Jimsy’s left arm, also turned his was a real nursery game. Jimsy, head sharply inwards and said after easily recovering his shoes, “Euryale.” Then Jimsy twigged. It danced nimbly hither and thither, was a pass-word; an agreed sign uttering loud cries of derision. The by which his pursuers would avoid pack blundered into each other, capturing each other in this sinis- clutched at the air, looked and felt ter game of blind man’s bluff. Jimsy foolish, with “Euryale, Euryale” dropped his hand from his neigh- constantly on tlieir tongues. For bour’s shoulder and slipped away all their physical toughness, these behind the mass near the wall. His simple souls were beginning to feel ancient resentment flared up in discouraged. him till he all but shouted with The man who had marched fury. Why must the password be next to the Mayor, and who now one of those which Jimsy, with his stood with a companion as guard- roofless mouth, could never hope ian of the postern, heard the con- to pronounce? Why must it have fusion as clearly as if he had an L and an R in it? He began to watched it. He decided to take think that his dangerous scheme of command. Shouting for silence in joining the line, if only the pass- a mountaineer’s voice, he ordered word had been Bo, would have as- the men once again to form line suredly preserved him. It did not with their backs to the wall, and occur to him that these men would to sweep the enclosure from front have smelt him in no time at all. wall to keep, witli care to make no The man from whose shoulder gaps, or loops that led to gaps. Jimsy had dropped his hand Pace did not matter. If Jimsy was shouted to give the alarm, and the fool enough to enter the keep, so line broke up to advance, in some much the better. —

THE EYES OF PHORKOS 125

The men, somewhat shame- mous nose and no chin. It was faced at their riot, groped for each true there would be no angry other, sorted themselves out, and birthmark on his marble face. But reformed the line. Tliis time it was to immortalise that face in stone stretched from wall to wall. Jimsy, — no. panting from his dance, stood by Jimsy’s resentment would no the door of the keep. It did not doubt have mounted to new enter his head to go inside. The heights, but it had no time. In two deliberately slow motions, the bounds he was on the wall of the careful discipline, of the blind well-head, his finger went up, and men’s advance, convinced him, at a very ugly statue fell headlong last, that be could never tire them into the well, breaking the bucket out. He could not jump over them; and claim as it crashed. The blind the way they stopped and listened men had small doubt of what had after each step fonvard made the happened. But, exhorted by their idea of crawling between them ab- leader by the postern, they me- surd. The Mayor had won. thodically swept out both rooms of The abandonment of hope is the keep before calling it a day. always a relief to the nerves. Even posthumous notoriety was Jimsy suddenly felt calm. Stand- denied to Jimsy, just as the “scoop” ing as he was on the very spot of the century was denied to the where he had all but petrified the Daily Hooter. The emissary of old chieftain, he was suddenly re- that enterprising and lavish jour- minded of what a fine statue the nal had spent an hour or more in old boy would have made had he photographing, from many angles, not so instantly surrendered. Jimsy not only the prostrate effigies drew himself up proudly. If it was of Charlie Grubb and Professor to be the end, let the M'orld have a Digges, but that amazing forest of noble effigy of the great James standing and fallen statues that Carew — no, not James, but The cluttered the quay, Venizelos Carew, “Gorgon” Carew, Discover- Square, and many of the streets of er and Petrifier. Stheno. When the earthquake took Jimsy lifted his head slowly place he was on his way to the his head must be held well up, his southern “diggings” in a fishing- gaze must be level, his left hand boat. That submarine upheaval, upon his hip, his right foot a little with its epicentre almost exactly forward. Then suddenly he re- beneath the island of Phorkos, is membered. It would not be a no- best remembered by the living for ble effigy. It would be the statue the destructive tidal wave which of a hideous man, with an enor- ran, a monstrous mountain of salt T

126 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION water, through the Cyclades to the ery. To crown all, the one piece of coasts of Greece and Asia Minor. evidence unsubmerged, the thin Phorkos itself, all but four hun- file of photographs taken by the dred feet of the peak, disappeared pilot of the light aeroplane, had beneath the sea. Could he have been carelessly left by the Mayor foreseen it, how bitterly would at the Ministry of Health. And Jimsy have resented so complete, papers left at Ministries, whether so catastrophic a deletion of the in Athens or elsewhere, are never proofs of his extraordinary discov- seen again.

Through Time And Space With Ferdinand Feghoot: LXVI

It was against Ferdinand Feghoot’s advice that Ezra P. Cross- . hatch. Member of the Time Travellers Club and well-known poet, decided to take a Massachusetts vacation during the 17th Century. “Ah, Feghoot,” he cried, “not for me are the suave sins of Byzan- tium, the sophistications of Second-Empire Paris, the machine- made wickedness of Las Vegas! My soul wants simplicity Feghoot knew that Crosshatch had recently spent his New Ful- bright with Henry Tlioreau wading around Walden Pond, and that he was still under the influence. Therefore he said nothing more. But he was in no way surprised, when the poet failed to come back on schedule and the alarm light went on. As Chairman of the Club’s Rescue Committee, Feghoot at once sped back to Salem 1667, where he found Crosshatch exposed in the public pillory. Eggs which urchins had thrown at him stained his clothing, and he looked very unhappy. Sullenly he explained that he had been caught pinching a milkmaid. “You ought to have warned me,” he whined, as Feghoot un- fastened his hands. “You never said it would be as awful as this."

“I made myself perfectly clear,” replied Ferdinand Feghoot. “I, told you you’d find yourself in a simple old two-wist trap.” —Grendel Briarton

(See Feghoot advertisement in "F&SF Marketplace’’, page 129) — — —

LETTERS potency to "communist”). Sorry. I’m less troubled by morals than the Hero.

. . . As always we only exchanged In response to your kind invitation, morals for other morals. Is enforced I opine: —The letters are non-scintil- sex (through obligation, custom, lant but I do love your replies! etc.) any better than restricted? Is it And as long as I am here. . • . any more intellectual? Is it any freer?

Realizing the enormity of the depar- . . . I’m not "outraged,” don’t flatter ture from tradition evidenced by the yourselves, just disappointed and sick increasing wit, humor and contro- at heart. No, I don’t believe in censor- versial content of recent issues, I wish ship, but I do recognize a difference to thank you for your courage. between erotic realism and porno-

In particular, I have happily graphy. . . . This book would fail watched S.F. outgrowing the Horse- psych tests given it to reveal erotic Opera tabu on unholy sex; but this realism because the story does a beau- Heinlein story is an utter delight. I tiful job of twanging that male erotic am, of course, sufficiently elderly and nerve. For instance : "I won’t say I’ve sophisticated to dare admit liking never bedded a married woman nor— a even the theme. (I also enjoyed An- man's daughter in his own house ” a derson’s (Poul, that is, not Hans triple loaded statement. ... A better

Christian) Three Hearts and Three introduction to this chronicle . . . Lions. Wonder what Bradbury could would be: Britannus (delighted); do with the same angle? Can’t you Caesar, this is wonderful! / Theodo- prod him?) The light touch of this tus (repulsed): What?! / Caesar Glory Road epic was long overdue and (recovering his sense of humor):

I am charmed and still chuckling. Pardon him, Theodotus : he is an “in- Even if it dribbles oflE to nothing, the tellectual,” and thinks that the cus- dialog in this installment will have toms of any other tribe, being new been worth any anti-climax. S.F. is and novel to him, are vastly superior essentially a short story or novelette to those we, who do not properly rec- form, anyway. B. Bendeau, Cleve- ognise his brilliance, practice. An- land Ohio. drea Fuller, San Jose, Cal.

. . . I’m surprised at Heinlein, I I read with dismay your introduc- really am. This will leave a bad taste tion to Paul Jay Robbins’ story in the in my mouth for some time to come. August issue, in which you said, “. If this self-hate filled, rather dull little . . there have been complaints about bedtime story is the SF trend. I’ll quit too much esoteric razzmatazz in these using my precious eyesight in reading introductions.” I am shocked that you it. No doubt in your superior knowl- would even venture to think that your edge of life, love, and the pursuit of editing contains too much —ahem! pleasure you think me a “moralist” “razzmatazz.” I agree with Mr. Hamil- (that handy little label used against ton, who wrote that sometimes you anyone who dares to disagree with pubhsh too many stories that over- anyone else, second only in withering emphasize style, but I much prefer

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128 FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION this to publishing those which un- Sky (August, ’63), whatever that deremphasize style. References to means. Horrible! Never in my life Tiresias and the cries of hunting have I dreamed of reading of a naked banths are infinitely more desirable Negro anarchist struggling for anar- .* than such as . . You alone must chy in an anarchial world . . . I do defend F&SF, the sole bastion of cul- not read your magazine to be made ture in the science fiction field. Do ill ! ! I read Science Fiction as a way not falter! Robert D. Sheehan, to pleasurable thoughts and ideas.

Bklyn, N. Y. A. J. Hill, Wyomissing, Penna.

* We omit here a quoted blurb from I want to thank you for Turn Off another SF tnagazine, evidently com- The Sky. Things like this appear al- posed whilst the editor ivas suffering most nowhere else. Hope you get from a surfeit of lampreys. —AD more like that one. David Scott, Chicago, 111. Stern editor, where are your Stern editorials? I found them interesting Editor's note: In our August is- and amusing and I’m not the only sue tve published a vignette by T P one. Please bring them back. How- Caravan entitled THE CENSORS: A ard Husock, South Euclid, Ohio SAD ALLEGORY. Several readers have called our attention to the fact Will it be possible to make the let- that a longer version of this story ap- ter column more of a forum and less peared over the same byline in a 1956 of a comment on the stories, specifi- issue of OTHER WORLDS, a maga- cally speaking? — rs. John Lo- zine no longer being published. The renz, Manchester, Mass. author writes "... my last submis- sion [to OTHER WORLDS] was in ... I think more comment on in- January of 1955. It was an early ver- dividual stories is necessary . . . sion of THE CENSORS, quite differ- When is Sturgeon going to sequel his ent in style ... he [the editor] ? When You Care, When You Love didn’t buy it .. . Without my Terry Parkinson, Columbus, Ohio knowledge he printed it.” The author, under his real name, is a member of He is working on H ncnv. —AD the faculty of a metropolitan univer- sity. We accept his entire good faith I have just finished scanning the in this matter, as —we are sure — our atrocious story called Turn Off The readers accept our own. * * * hit * * * * khifkirkirkiftfkifkiiifk * I I MARKET PLACE t * s

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