H. L. Gold (ed), page 11
Verna said, “Why don’t you go up there, dear? I’m sure he would not mind.”
“Oh … really not?” She caught Pallas’ eye. Pallas gave her one firm nod. Priscilla said, “Do you mind ?” She slipped out of her chair and went up past the dance floor.
“Look at her,” breathed Edie. “She’s got that—that’miracle’ expression again … Oh, Jon, she’s so lovely.”
Jon said, looking at the spinsters, “What are you two hugging each other about?”
Henry looked up from the keyboard and smiled shyly. “Hello,” Priscilla said.
“Hello.” He looked at her face, her hair, her body, her eyes. His shyness was there, and no boldness was present; he looked at her the way she listened to his music. It was personal and not aggressive. He moved over on the bench. “Sit down.”
Without hesitation she did. She looked at him, too—the hawk profile, the gentle gray-green eyes. “You play beautifully.”
“Listen.”
He played with his eyes on her face. His hands leaped joyfully like baby goats. Then they felt awe and hummed something. Henry stopped playing by ear. He began to sight-read.
Note followed note followed note for the line of her nose, and doubled and curved and turned back for her nostrils. The theme became higher and fuller and rounded and there was her forehead, and then’there were colorful waves up and back for her hair. Here was a phrase for an earlobe, and one for the turn of the cheek, and now there were mysteries, two of them, long and subdued and agleam and end-tilted, and they were her eyes… .
Derek came out of the office and stopped so abruptly that Jane ran into him. Before she could utter the first startled syllable, her breath was taken away in a great gasp.
Derek turned and gestured at the music. “You—”
She looked up at him, the furious eyes, the terrified trembling at the corners of his mouth. “No, Derek, so help me God, I didn’t ask him to come back. I wouldn’t do that, Derek. I wouldn’t.”
“You wouldn’t,” he agreed gently. “I know it, hon. I’m sorry. But out he goes.” He strode out to the stand. Jane trotted behind him, and when they turned the corner she caught his arm so violently that her long fingernails sank into his flesh. “Wait!”
There was a girl on the bench with Henry, and as he played he stared at her face. His eyes moved over it, his own face moved closer. His hands made music like the almost visible current which flowed between them. Their lips touched.
There was a tinkling explosion of sound from the piano that built up in fullness and sonority until Jane and Derek all but blinked their eyes, as if it were a blaze of light. And then Henry’s left hand picked up a theme, a thudding, joyous melody that brought the few late-owls in the club right to their feet. He no longer looked at the girl. His eyes were closed, and his hands spoke of himself and what he felt—a great honest hunger and new riches, a shy and willing experience with a hitherto undreamed-of spectrum of sensation.
Jane and Derek looked at each other with shining eyes. Jane said, deliberately, “Son, you got a rival,” and Derek laughed in sheer relieved delight.
“I’m going to get my fiddle,” he said.
When Derek started to play, four people left their table and came up to the piano as if cables drew them. Hand in hand, Jon and Edie stopped close by Priscilla and stood there, rapt as she. Pallas and Verna stood at the other end of the bench, their eyes glowing.
And out of the music, out of the bodies that fell into synchronization with the masterful pulse of the great viol, came a union, a blending of forces from each of six people. Each of the six had a part that was different from all of the others, but the shape of them all was a major chord, infinitely complete and completely satisfying.
“Ril!”
“Oh, make it formal, KadKedKud!” “RilRylRul, then …” “If only Mak were here.”
“Myk is with us, and Mok. Poor partial things, and how hard they have worked, guarding and guiding with those pitifully inadequate human bodies as instruments. Come, Ril; we must decide. Now that we can operate fully, we can investigate these creatures.”
Just as they had investigated, compared, computed and stored away observations on industrial techniques, strength of materials, stress and temperature and power and design, so now they took instant and total inventory of their hosts.
RilRylRul found classicism and inventiveness, tolerance and empathy in Henry. In Derek were loyalty and rugged strength and a powerful interpretive quality. In Jane was the full-blown beauty of sensualism and directive thought, and a unique stylization of the products of artistic creation.
KadKedKud separated and analyzed a splendid systemization in Priscilla, a superior grasp of applied theory in Edie, and in Jon that rarest of qualities, the associative mind—the mind that can bridge the specialties.
“A great race,” said Ril, “but a sick one, badly infected with the Pa’ak pestilence.”
“The wisest thing to do,” reflected Kad, “would be to stimulate the virus to such an extent that humanity will impose its own quarantine—by reducing itself to savagery through atomic warfare. There is such a great chance of that, no matter what we do, that it would seem expedient to hasten the process. The object would be to force atomic warfare before space travel can begin. That at least would keep the virus out of the Galaxy, which is what we came here to effect.”
“It’s a temptation,” conceded Ril. “And yet—what a tremendous species this human race could be! Let us stay, Kad. Let us see what we can do with them. Let us move on to other human groups, now that we know the techniques of entry and merging. With just the right pressure on exactly the right points, who knows? Perhaps we can cause them to discover how to cure themselves.”
“It will be a close race,” worried Kad. “We can do a great deal, but can we do it soon enough? We face three possibilities: Mankind may destroy itself through its own sick ingenuity; it may reach the stars to spread its infection; or it may find its true place as a healthy species in a healthy Cosmos. I would not predict which is more likely.”
“Neither would I,” Ril returned. “So if the forces are that closely balanced, I have hope for the one we join. Are you with me ?”
“Agreed. Myk—Mok … will you join us?”
Faintly, faintly came the weak response of the two paltry parts of a once powerful triad: “Back in our sector we would be considered dead. Here we have a life, and work. Of course we will help.”
So they considered, and, at length, decided.
And their meeting and consideration and decision took four microseconds.
The six people looked at one another, entranced, dazed.
“It’s—gone,” said Jon. He wondered, then, what he meant by that.
Henry’s fingers slid off the keys, and the big bass was silent. Priscilla opened her tilted eyes wide and looked about her. Edie pressed close to Jonathan, bright-faced, composed. Jane stood with her head high, her nostrils arched.
They felt as if they were suddenly living on a new plane of existence, where colors were more vivid and the hues between them more recognizable. There was a new richness to the air, and a new strength in their bodies ; but most of all it was as if a curtain had been lifted from their minds for the first time in their lives. They had all reached a high unity, a supreme harmony in the music a second before, but this was something different, infinitely more complete. “Cured” was the word that came to Jonathan. He knew instinctively that what he now felt was a new norm, and that it was humanity’s birthright.
“My goodness gracious!”
Verna and Pallas stood close together, like two frightened birds, darting glances about them and twittering.
“I can’t think what I’m doing here,” said Pallas blankly, yet aware. “I’ve had one of my spells …”
“We both have,” Verna agreed. “And that’s the way it is.”
Jonathan looked at them, and knew them instantly as incomplete.
He raised his eyes to the rest of the people in the club, still stirring with the final rustle of applause from the magnificent burst of music they had heard, and he recognized them as sick. His mind worked with a new directiveness and brilliance to the causes of their sickness.
He turned to Edie. “We have work to do…”
She pressed his hand, and Priscilla looked up and smiled.
Derek and Jane looked into each other’s eyes, into depths neither had dreamed of before. There would be music from that, they knew.
Henry said, with all his known gentleness and none of the frightened diffidence, “Hey, you with the red hair. I love you. What’s your name?” And Priscilla laughed with a sound like wings and buried her face in his shoulder.
On earth there was a new kind of partnership of three. And…
The news is new aggression threatens unleashing of atomic weapons … . President calls for universal disarmament …. First flight to Moon possible now with sufficient funds …. Jonathan Prince announces virus cause of neurosis, promises possible cure of all mental diseases …
Watch your local newspapers for latest developments.
RICHARD MATHESON
His eyes were open five seconds before the alarm was set to go off. There was no effort in waking. It was sudden. Coldly conscious, he reached out his left hand in the dark and pushed in the stop. The alarm glowed a second, then faded.
At his side, his wife put her hand on his arm.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
“No, did you?”
“A little,” he said. “Not much.”
She was silent for a few seconds. He heard her throat contract. She shivered. He knew what she was going to say. “We’re still going?” she asked.
He twisted his shoulders on the bed and took a deep breath.
“Yes,” he said, and felt her fingers tighten on his arm.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“About five.”
“We’d better get ready.”
“Yes, we’d better.”
They made no move.
“You’re sure we can get on the ship without anyone noticing?” she asked.
“They think it’s just another test flight. Nobody will be checking.” She didn’t say anything. She moved a little closer to him. He felt how cold her skin was.
“I’m afraid,” she said.
He took her hand and held it in a tight grip. “Don’t be,” he said. “We’ll be safe.”
“It’s the children I’m worried about.”
“We’ll be safe,” he repeated.
She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it gently.
“All right,” she said.
They both sat up in the darkness. He heard her stand. Her night garment rustled to the floor. She didn’t pick it up. She stood still, shivering in the cold morning air.
“You’re sure we don’t need anything else with us?” she asked.
“No, nothing. I have all the supplies we need in the ship. Anyway …”
“What?”
“We can’t carry anything past the guard,” he said. “He has to think you and the kids are just coming to see me off.”
She began dressing. He threw off the covering and got up. He went across the cold floor to the closet and dressed.
“I’ll get the children up,” she said, “if they aren’t already.” He grunted, pulling clothes over his head. At the door she stopped. “Are you sure—” she began.
“Hm?”
“Won’t the guard think it’s funny that … that our neighbors are coming down to see you off, too?”
He sank down on the bed and fumbled for the clasps on his shoes.
“We’ll have to take that chance,” he said. “We need them with us.”
She sighed. “It seems so cold. So calculating.”
He straightened up and saw her silhouette in the doorway.
“What else can we do?” he asked tensely. “We can’t interbreed our own children.”
“No,” she said. “It’s just …”
“Just what?”
“Nothing, darling. I’m sorry.”
She closed the door. Her footsteps disappeared down the hall. The door to the children’s room opened. He heard their two voices. A cheerless smile raised his lips. You’d think it was a holiday, he thought.
He pulled on his shoes. At least the kids didn’t know what was happening. They thought they were going to take him down to the field. They thought they’d come back and tell all their schoolmates. They didn’t know they’d never come back.
He finished clasping his shoes and stood up. He shuffled over to the bureau and turned on the light. He looked at himself in the mirror. It was odd, such an undistinguished looking man planning this.
Cold. Calculating. Her words filled his mind again. Well, there was no other way. In a few years, probably less, the whole planet would go up with a blinding flash. This was the only way out. Escaping, starting all over again with a few people on a new planet.
He stared at the reflection.
“There’s no other way,” he said.
He glanced around the bedroom. Good-bye, this part of my life. Turning off the lamp was like turning off a light in his mind. He closed the door gently behind him and slid his fingers off the worn handle.
His son and daughter were going down the ramp. They were talking in mysterious whispers. He shook his head in slight amusement.
His wife waited for him. They went down together, holding hands.
“I’m not afraid, darling,” she said. “It’ll be all right.”
“Sure,” he said. “Sure it will.”
They all went in to eat. He sat down with his children. His wife poured out juice for them. Then she went to get the food.
“Help your mother, doll,” he told his daughter. She got up.
“Pretty soon, haah, Pop?” his son said. “Pretty soon, haah?”
“Take it easy,” he cautioned. “Remember what I told you. If you say a word of it to anybody, I’ll have to leave you behind.”
A dish shattered on the floor. He darted a glance at his wife. She was staring at him, her lips trembling.
She averted her eyes and bent down. She fumbled at the pieces, picked up a few. Then she dropped them all, stood up and pushed them against the wall with her shoe.
“As if it mattered,” she said nervously. “As if it mattered whether the place is clean or not.”
The children were watching her in surprise.
“What is it?” asked the daughter.
“Nothing, darling, nothing,” she said. “I’m just nervous. Go back to the table. Drink your juice. We have to eat quickly. The neighbors will be here soon.”
“Pop, why are the neighbors coming with us?” asked his son. “Because,” he said vaguely. “Because they want to. Now forget it. Don’t talk about it so much.”
The room was quiet. His wife brought over their food and set it down. Only her footsteps broke the silence. The children kept glancing at each other, at their father. He kept his eyes on his plate. The food tasted thick and flat in his mouth and he felt his heart thudding against the wall of his chest. Last day. This is the last day. It felt like a silly, dangerous plan. “You’d better eat,” he told his wife.
She sat down and began to eat mechanically, without enthusiasm. Suddenly the door buzzer sounded. The eating utensil skidded out of her nerveless fingers and clattered on the floor. He reached out quickly and put his hand on hers.
“All right, darling,” he said. “It’s all right.” He turned to the children. “Go answer the door,” he told them.
“Both of us?” his daughter asked.
“Both of you.”
“But____ “
“Do as I say.”
They slid off their chairs and left the room, glancing back at their parents.
When the sliding door shut off their view, he turned back to his wife. Her face was pale and tight; she had her lips pressed together.
“Darling, please,” he said. “Please. You know I wouldn’t take you if I wasn’t sure it was safe. You know how many times I’ve flown the ship before. And I know just where we’re going. It’s safe. Believe me, it’s safe.”
She pressed his hand against her cheek. She closed her eyes and large tears ran out under her lids and down her cheeks.
“It’s not that so m-much,” she said. “It’s just … leaving, never coming back. We’ve been here all our lives. It isn’t like … like moving. We can’t come back. Ever.”
“Listen, darling,” his voice was tense and hurried, “you know as well as I do. In a matter of years, maybe less, there’s going to be another war, a terrible one. There won’t be a thing left. We have to leave. For our children, for ourselves… .”
He paused, testing the words in his mind.
“For the future of life itself,” he finished weakly. He was sorry he said it. Early on a prosaic morning, over everyday food, that kind of talk didn’t sound right. Even if it was true.
“Just don’t be afraid,” he said. “We’ll be all right.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I know.”
There were footsteps coming toward them. He pulled out a tissue and gave it to her. She hastily dabbed at her face.
The door slid open. The neighbors and their son and daughter came in. The children were excited. They had trouble keeping it down.
“Good morning,” the neighbor said.
The neighbor’s wife went to his wife and the two of them went over by the window and talked in low voices. The children stood around, fidgeted, and looked nervously at each other.
“You’ve eaten?” he asked his neighbor.
“Yes,” his neighbor said. “Don’t you think we’d better be going?” “I suppose so,” he said.
They left all the dishes on the table. His wife went upstairs and got outer garments for the family.
He and his wife stayed on the porch a moment while the rest went out to the ground car.
“Should we lock the door?” he asked.
She smiled helplessly and ran a hand through her hair. She shrugged helplessly. “Does it matter?”
