tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52960747989302564832024-03-17T18:07:42.217-04:00Louis Shalako...just a bum who can write.Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.comBlogger1074125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-81860250504643254612024-02-07T08:54:00.004-05:002024-02-07T13:55:14.239-05:00A Rational Plan for Affordable Housing. Louis Shalako.<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarvYRmuqfhmg9pnybESFWXVPooNPYfOG7AO1lns8rh3CrqosTXdTbVA3Y9vJB-7c_9HB-RZlt6xEEoN763VkDwdFRrFSUxiuL9HkYhlAails4roQb0qfwJHejNBn-gyKPlhqpjUhMqIOyRzS3mM0vYEUwGRgyPR9qJak3Fc86twqlNj0bQFGh1gSXcMs/s1333/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20073139.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="1333" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarvYRmuqfhmg9pnybESFWXVPooNPYfOG7AO1lns8rh3CrqosTXdTbVA3Y9vJB-7c_9HB-RZlt6xEEoN763VkDwdFRrFSUxiuL9HkYhlAails4roQb0qfwJHejNBn-gyKPlhqpjUhMqIOyRzS3mM0vYEUwGRgyPR9qJak3Fc86twqlNj0bQFGh1gSXcMs/w640-h410/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20073139.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>No basement required...</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The federal government
has promised a series of 'pre-approved' housing designs, meant to speed up home-building and address the shortfall in available housing stock. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">One has to cringe at
the thoughts of what they will come up with, and how that will be received by
developers, home builders, and the bougies, who are presently occupied with
houses six times the size and footprint of these homes, pictured on a quiet
block of the 'tree streets', here in Sarnia, Ontario. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I think it’s safe to
say the old 1 ½ story ‘wartime’ housing will not be much of a contender in this
plan. Three bedrooms, one bath, and an unfinished basement, in a development of
essentially identical housing, would be a bit of a hard sell, but then perhaps
we have become spoiled over the years…ah, but what if they were brand, spanking
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">new </b>houses, going for $299,000.00?
What if the feds split the down payment with you? What if your income was taken
into account in the mortgage agreement?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">What if someone had an
actual, serious <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">plan,</b> ladies and
gentlemen…???<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">What then.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">What then, eh? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Many of the kids I grew up with lived in this
neighbourhood. Some of these have no basement. Some of them are two bedroom, as
far as I know it is presently illegal to build a one-bedroom home. You would
have to go to city council, and ask for a variance from the bylaws. Resale
value would be impacted by the fact it is only one bedroom. The bank don’t want
to mortgage it and no one wants to build it.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XofE1jMLxeCycwHzE4YmUL6MvCRBwHQGhgEzLSR2G8nIsfYOOBuzB9r87Ia7licT1pV9bAIqEhGDBfEpGY4K3_uGnf7a759AtgStdjRS1jmQ3lBO61XHtfd3YYhkvxyAgIr_MFoaMFC5oXTwz-2hzhyphenhyphenID6WnW7tYYhJ0zv1GdDCy0PZ3Q_xWvbxJxBo/s1322/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20084402.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1322" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XofE1jMLxeCycwHzE4YmUL6MvCRBwHQGhgEzLSR2G8nIsfYOOBuzB9r87Ia7licT1pV9bAIqEhGDBfEpGY4K3_uGnf7a759AtgStdjRS1jmQ3lBO61XHtfd3YYhkvxyAgIr_MFoaMFC5oXTwz-2hzhyphenhyphenID6WnW7tYYhJ0zv1GdDCy0PZ3Q_xWvbxJxBo/w400-h233/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20084402.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dreaded, 1 1/2 story 'wartime' housing.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">It is my opinion that
you could build six to ten of these little two-bedroom houses in the same time
it takes to build one massive bougie house along Blackwell Road, for
comparison. Building large numbers of million-dollar houses is not going to
solve the housing crisis, which does not involve the upper and middle classes,
only lower-income Canadians. And apartment living isn't for everyone, the fact
is my rent and other costs could cover a small mortgage assuming some rational,
long-term and low-interest scenario.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Assuming some rational
down payment, affordable payments, low municipal taxes, efficient heating and
cooling, low maintenance costs, low insurance costs, and low transportation
costs in the so-called ‘walkable city’. That is, admittedly, a lot to ask.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">In Sarnia, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">basements are made to flood.</i> Who needs
it? A ground-floor utility room is just as good and probably cheaper to build.
In terms of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">objections,</i> there would have
to be some federal and provincial subsidy, just to get the thing started. A
certain class of person is already howling at how unfair that is—to them,
mostly. Why, I do not know. They just like to bitch about every little thing,
this among the most fortunate, most privileged bunch of people on the face of
this planet. It really is unseemly, ladies and gentlemen, but that is indeed
who they are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">As far as
infrastructure hookups, the same bit of street that might serve one bougie
home, can now serve two or three of the smaller homes. All of whom pay municipal
property taxes, in the aggregate, contributing <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">more
</b>to the tax base than one really big home, and when it comes to
infrastructure, we are constantly being told that density is good—right up
until someone goes to build it, and then it doesn’t happen. In Sarnia, we
presently have about 3,200 unit approvals, and project after project seems to
fall by the wayside. It amounts to one new apartment build on London Road at
Afton Drive, and one currently under construction at the old Sarnia General
Hospital site. Approvals mean nothing, what counts is shovels in the ground—and
workers to build it. Capitalists don’t really build anything, ladies and
gentlemen. Their purpose is to accumulate capital. What <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">good</b> is it, if you don’t do anything with it?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yet big, upscale houses
are going up all over the place, in the north end, along Lakeshore Road, where
the houses weren’t exactly working class to begin with, and in Point Edward,
where what was working-class and middle-class housing once stood, buildings are
being knocked down and replaced by behemoths three to four times the size. Every
second farmhouse is being knocked down and being replaced with upscale housing.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldOdpd9-5oU-WPbLdMISHkJqu3IF8lsgrjONKY2uw7EEmmEsKoDkHCzxKnterdkn4syWhnHVfXrGxoHHGGzjSo2Mk6IuoJbbDxmuQThgIvtvQXDjXIWbLx8Jf0vabwATbUIzNOyn8HOoZftgHNwEs3cJOQZZQgw6XhZtLHm0hST7kaCVG9dZoCbMqE7w/s1245/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20084634.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="1245" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldOdpd9-5oU-WPbLdMISHkJqu3IF8lsgrjONKY2uw7EEmmEsKoDkHCzxKnterdkn4syWhnHVfXrGxoHHGGzjSo2Mk6IuoJbbDxmuQThgIvtvQXDjXIWbLx8Jf0vabwATbUIzNOyn8HOoZftgHNwEs3cJOQZZQgw6XhZtLHm0hST7kaCVG9dZoCbMqE7w/w640-h288/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20084634.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The big, <i>bougie </i>houses are not going to solve the housing crisis.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Location, location,
location, right? It ain’t exactly cheap to knock down what was a viable house,
and then put up another one of any size and configuration. The bet <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here,</i> is that the investment will pay off.
In other words, the folks building these have no interest in an affordable
marketplace, one that would benefit a greater number of Canadians. But to put
that in perspective, you’re investing three or four hundred grand, just to get
a building lot in a desirable location. Clearly, this kind of market and consumer
behaviour is not going to solve the housing crisis.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">My apartment is about
740 square feet. As a standalone building, I wouldn’t want to make it a whole
hell of a lot bigger. The galley type kitchen is small, so is the bathroom. If
we took it up to 900 square feet, we could address these issues simply by
bumping out extensions on what would be the front elevation of the building.
Simply put, instead of a rectangle, we end up with a thick ‘L’ shape and some revision
of the interior floor plan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The younger crowd buy a
house, all of a sudden, they’re tearing it apart. They’re renovating the
kitchen, putting in another bathroom, a hot tub on a new deck out back, they’re
installing all new windows, doors and siding. They’re also throwing a roof on
the place and maybe putting in a new furnace. They have the income to support
such projects, and the energy and optimism required to complete such projects.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s an investment, I
agree. It’s also a pain in the ass to live in a never-ending construction zone.
With the aging of the population, some of us just want a nice, small, clean,
well-built and efficient house where, essentially, we don’t have to fix or
renovate a single damned thing. It doesn’t have to be anything real special.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Just a nice, clean,
simple little house—I’ll bet they can’t do it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s too hard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Their minds just don’t
work that way, ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprtU_QfDvcp1w3K4CT02Vc_jJlGKAWQ6BvEjzPA61u9uMr1sa5n0-q9vL6N4MVJvADgoOM_fZSEuRYJ3NK-HUX8GwRkzqV4KT2YSvXS3dj6nY6cpdEs709xnxH-mqjz8zpmqk6YaBGL1LfZHjfTqzqca1PjXrbjP7oThgYZmzdGKBQcs6DhtHaMOvH3g/s1245/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20073053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="870" data-original-width="1245" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprtU_QfDvcp1w3K4CT02Vc_jJlGKAWQ6BvEjzPA61u9uMr1sa5n0-q9vL6N4MVJvADgoOM_fZSEuRYJ3NK-HUX8GwRkzqV4KT2YSvXS3dj6nY6cpdEs709xnxH-mqjz8zpmqk6YaBGL1LfZHjfTqzqca1PjXrbjP7oThgYZmzdGKBQcs6DhtHaMOvH3g/w640-h448/Screenshot%202024-02-07%20073053.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabana style living, at an affordable price.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Louis Shalako has <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Books-Louis-Shalako/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ALouis+Shalako" target="_blank">books and stories available from Amazon.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Grab <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAECiFW5V3M" target="_blank">a free audiobook from Google Play.</a> You have nothing to lose, after all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Thank you for reading,
and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(240, 242, 245); color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(240, 242, 245); color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-6976272146566122072024-01-17T13:45:00.013-05:002024-01-17T14:51:51.784-05:002023 In Review. It Was a Very Good Year. Louis Shalako.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJUZzL4T_jJOLY0J012FmXEWCH7e7y6Xef4hxWQTVBSCzxyhXYLDlHuyBHNqRe4qXCJMssjqwuga1FOf86tUVNWvLhZRTEwnmsJFWNP-y5NoaQL30B5Msav8OibhU-rkaxAIAb6KsktDfdajsjzed9SV-3LrJtEiP9orABWBrTiI5TCZvgPEJYNg8N74/s2100/Memoir3b.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJUZzL4T_jJOLY0J012FmXEWCH7e7y6Xef4hxWQTVBSCzxyhXYLDlHuyBHNqRe4qXCJMssjqwuga1FOf86tUVNWvLhZRTEwnmsJFWNP-y5NoaQL30B5Msav8OibhU-rkaxAIAb6KsktDfdajsjzed9SV-3LrJtEiP9orABWBrTiI5TCZvgPEJYNg8N74/w266-h400/Memoir3b.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako</p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">A couple of weeks ago, I began my new audiobook
on Google Play. It’s been a long year. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">My attention was wandering, and I basically
saved it as a draft. I’d probably had enough, at that point. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">I went off and did other things for a couple of
weeks. I was grabbing free, public domain short stories from the internet, finding images, publishing them, putting in links and posting them all over. At
some point my eyes were rolling back into my head. I couldn’t focus for the
life of me…I’d probably had enough, by that point.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I'm back at it now, no rush, no hurry, no
worries. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Criminal Memoir</i> will be
available as an audiobook within a day or two.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">So, 2023 was fairly productive, after a hiatus
of some years. It took me three winters, to write a mystery novel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Stranger In Paris,</i> the ninth of the
Inspector Gilles Maintenon Mystery Series. That was three winters where I wrote
about 20,000 words, and long periods in between when I didn’t write a damned
thing except the very occasional blog post. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Publishing that on Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon,
and finally, Google Play, I saw the notice. Click here to publish your book as
an audiobook narrated by AI.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">People are scared shitless by AI, and no one
can blame them. They know themselves best. They are at a distinct disadvantage,
one has to presume. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I thought, why not, why not learn how to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">use</i> the fucking thing. I have all these
books and all these stories. A series of assets, and it’s all about tending
that little garden. I spent the next five months, producing what turned out to
be around one hundred and thirty audiobooks in terms of full-length books and
short stories. I have five different pen names, writing in any number of
genres. I now have 285 titles up on Google Play. This does not account for
paperbacks in two different sizes, or a number of different ebook formats
available from Smashwords, just to clarify. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Where I failed, was in getting that up as an
approximately 4x7 paperback on Lulu (dot) com, where I have sold exactly three
books since 2011, and I will never see a penny from that website…s</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">o far, I haven’t even attempted to produce a
paperback of that book on Amazon. I was completely used to making paperbacks
through Createspace, which was purchased by Amazon and is now a dead portal. I
suppose it’s time to learn a new trick—</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLK-NG9SO95HOWqiTPUBIAoDHsumQfc0J-zzhZ1COVUn2xOfw6v1AKy2mx-sYLspIFN4O4mSkVgNbSxcnXCRWzZNteFtCqI9LFiVHhqvq6tY79P4WZcb45A9grC-8hF7JNZxxIJernFsfyHCr4A2wQFyabNRj3Id8uJnkkpCYKxnXqH5LcncRTEe9IBc/s2100/BlackOrb1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLK-NG9SO95HOWqiTPUBIAoDHsumQfc0J-zzhZ1COVUn2xOfw6v1AKy2mx-sYLspIFN4O4mSkVgNbSxcnXCRWzZNteFtCqI9LFiVHhqvq6tY79P4WZcb45A9grC-8hF7JNZxxIJernFsfyHCr4A2wQFyabNRj3Id8uJnkkpCYKxnXqH5LcncRTEe9IBc/s320/BlackOrb1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Having done all of that, all within a few
months, I started looking around, and I had this story, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Black Orb</i>, which had originally been published by <a href="https://sites.google.com/newmyths.com/newmythscomarchive/fiction/the-black-orb?authuser=0" target="_blank">New Myths.</a> It
had been hanging around in a folder on my desktop, the big hurdle there was the
question of a cover image and a half-decent book cover.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I bit down hard on the bullet, and found a
free, black and white, public domain image and produced a book cover, got an
ISBN number, wrote some kind of half-assed blurb and published that as an ebook
on various platforms, and as an audiobook on Google Play. I found the material and published <i>One Million Words of Crap. </i>I didn't even have to write it, only collect it, format it, and publish it in the usual fashion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">All of this is free to do, incidentally.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">When I went to publish my new ebook on Lulu
(dot) com, they wanted $4.99 to publish an ebook. They claim two million
authors, (all of whom are happy and successful), that part is credible enough.
It is also a drop in the bucket compared to some other platforms, and the truth
is, I have sold exactly three books there since I joined the platform fifteen
or more years ago. Why in the hell would I ever want to do that.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">By this time, it was October, I was looking at
a long, boring winter square in the eye. I had been thinking of writing my
memoirs, I had some other ideas, but I just started writing. I wrote down a
heading, and then just said what I thought. Whatever I could recall, from a
certain period of my life. I didn’t even have to lie, to write fiction…that
one’s about 54,000 words. A bit short for a novel, but this one is non-fiction. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bJnhMzdtUUzDiHK7TY7f4fBuSQuOMRfuL-0ROwswLllQsejU34bAzoVe68-M12V3IAeeDQbClYOGS2TQDpXxi1ZXuia7G4CHUyWixmdnoSUF3S26sujkUuwTjBsAiTQ2j3q7LNQ1bNgLSPxKk3cevYfv6qwkjJydF8KmotZn1IxFNgg22xtAo2GVnDc/s2100/0259102-f06e12c4-0dbc-4883-8fee-2ce4c5ebc18d.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bJnhMzdtUUzDiHK7TY7f4fBuSQuOMRfuL-0ROwswLllQsejU34bAzoVe68-M12V3IAeeDQbClYOGS2TQDpXxi1ZXuia7G4CHUyWixmdnoSUF3S26sujkUuwTjBsAiTQ2j3q7LNQ1bNgLSPxKk3cevYfv6qwkjJydF8KmotZn1IxFNgg22xtAo2GVnDc/w266-h400/0259102-f06e12c4-0dbc-4883-8fee-2ce4c5ebc18d.jpg" width="266" /></a></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Publishing that, chapter by chapter, on my
blog, was a motivating factor. People expect you to follow through and to
finish that thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">So did I.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">That is exactly what I did.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">At the present time, I need to go back, publish
two paperbacks through Amazon’s KDP portal, assuming I can trim and fine-tune
the book covers for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Stranger In Paris,</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Criminal Memoir.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I have three ebooks hung up due to formatting
issues at Smashwords, in terms of wider distribution through iTunes, Barnes
& Noble, Scribd, etc. Basically, I just got tired and parked it for a
while. If I could trouble-shoot all of that, I would be just about caught up for
2023, and that would be that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">In that sense, it was a very good year.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I have no idea of what I might do next.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">No promises, okay.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFjsF2AlJVmK5wCMwT0xB9VQE_rPpOnfLHSOABk7EEWXYnb0Vq5sx-zSiHvs0GyHznw1Ymms2JYsPe3xoFw9ODtRi0Ox6N3jxOi03ec_OGSy3ut_bU_SfKLt9zuZ-z1b25JJOfUo0mAkNBjaAwTshh1UkFftz3ZG9gV4T2T_9-8daRFIwxVrYwsAqqOA8/s1229/277492340_10221478770788556_465655088804363891_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1229" data-original-width="1229" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFjsF2AlJVmK5wCMwT0xB9VQE_rPpOnfLHSOABk7EEWXYnb0Vq5sx-zSiHvs0GyHznw1Ymms2JYsPe3xoFw9ODtRi0Ox6N3jxOi03ec_OGSy3ut_bU_SfKLt9zuZ-z1b25JJOfUo0mAkNBjaAwTshh1UkFftz3ZG9gV4T2T_9-8daRFIwxVrYwsAqqOA8/s320/277492340_10221478770788556_465655088804363891_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>#Louis</i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stranger-Paris-Louis-Shalako-ebook/dp/B0C5FJMK3Z/ref=sr_1_2?qid=1705441139&refinements=p_27%3ALouis+Shalako&s=books&sr=1-2" target="_blank">A Stranger In Paris.</a> Amazon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Million-Words-Crap-Louis-Shalako-ebook/dp/B0CLKZBGTS/ref=sr_1_13?qid=1705443250&refinements=p_27%3ALouis+Shalako&s=books&sr=1-13" target="_blank">One Million Words of Crap.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEAS3yifKM" target="_blank">My Criminal Memoir.</a> Google Play, (Audiobook).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Black-Orb-Louis-Shalako-ebook/dp/B0CQ3YC14Y" target="_blank">The Black Orb.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Louis Shalako <a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" target="_blank">on ArtPal.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Thank you for reading or listening, whichever
the case may be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">#Louis<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-59662368903576304232024-01-14T17:32:00.000-05:002024-01-14T17:32:24.874-05:00Ignatz. Ron Goulart.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwNrEB9KmTJ_Cp-m8t38811-loYroqF3jPlQiWwvuDdexRIydn57SyToahrzuRrP3Hkzqwk3MUMp07ZBxQ4xiAhmIsv1VcAJGeBtr6LZS9cIypZkLGXK99aRvoLb0cZf93TVjT0o1p-e9XVLqLx5aXDUXC7Ya5k0xGZE92dWMKfMLVTNKKb0dIpEuT6k/s453/Screenshot%202024-01-14%20171151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="453" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwNrEB9KmTJ_Cp-m8t38811-loYroqF3jPlQiWwvuDdexRIydn57SyToahrzuRrP3Hkzqwk3MUMp07ZBxQ4xiAhmIsv1VcAJGeBtr6LZS9cIypZkLGXK99aRvoLb0cZf93TVjT0o1p-e9XVLqLx5aXDUXC7Ya5k0xGZE92dWMKfMLVTNKKb0dIpEuT6k/w640-h596/Screenshot%202024-01-14%20171151.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That cat's been smoking pot...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>Ron Goulart</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Cats! He couldn't stand the things—even
when they had once been his best friends</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Worlds of Science Fiction, March 1960</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Glenn
Wheelan stepped back out of the way as the water came hissing up across the
quiet night beach. He rolled his pants cuffs a turn higher and looked back at
Karen Wylie. "And the whole thing is worse. Teachers, you know, look
forward to vacations as much as kids. More. But I was almost afraid to come
back here."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen's
cigarette glowed red in the darkness. "But San Miguel is much brighter and
cleaner. They even have a theater that shows nothing but foreign movies. And
three laundromats. Now the place is building up, Glenn."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Because
of a bunch of oddballs who're tired of all the lunatic outfits in Los
Angeles." Wheelan moved to the girl's side. "Why, even in Pasadena
people talk about San Miguel."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
caught his hand and led him up the beach away from the water. "Well, every
town is noted for something. Like one's the lettuce capital and another's the
wine center. It certainly doesn't hurt San Miguel to be known."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
turned from the glare that the city's lights made against the faintly overcast
sky. "Ever since I was a kid I've hated cats. They make me feel crawly all
over. Like persimmons do."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Persimmons
don't do any such thing," Karen said, tossing her cigarette at the foam
below.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"So
I come back to my old home town. Unpack my bags and walk into my aunt's homey
kitchen, and she springs it on me."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"She's
one of them now, too. It's not bad enough a bunch of retired dentists from
Omaha go along with Balderstone. My aunt now! I'll have a hell of a time
forcing down second helpings. I get this crawly feeling."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You're
as touchy as Pavlov's dog. Everything makes you crawly."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well,
look, Karen. You've been up at Cal most of the year. Doesn't the place seem
odder to you?" Wheelan stepped next to a driftwood log. "Doesn't it
bother you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Karen
sat down on the log and put her elbows on her knees. "I told you, Glenn.
San Miguel looks newer and cleaner. Why, even the slums look better. I think
they've painted them."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"The
only time we ever had a cat, when I was eleven, it made me sneeze. My aunt made
me give it away. I wanted to drown it in a gunny sack but she talked me out of
it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Oh,
you couldn't have. You're too tender and kindly." She held her hand out
and motioned him down beside her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
sat, feeling the sand seep in over the sides of his loafers. "Maybe I'll
talk to Neff. There should be a law against this kind of thing."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Chief
Neff? I doubt if he'll do anything."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Why?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Because
he's so active on our Civic Public Relations Committee. And he owns a couple of
motels."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
absently put his hand on Karen's shoulder. "Now, somebody must be against
this. Maybe Dr. Watchers. He was even against free paper towels in the public
johns."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"He
passed away," Karen said, moving Wheelan's arm around her with her
shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
could write to the governor," Wheelan said, noticing Karen's soft dark
hair fluttering faintly over the tip of his nose. "There must be a law
against lycanthropy."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
shook her head. "No. They checked on it. There is in one of the New
England states. The dunking stool is the penalty, I think."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Why?"
he said in a loud voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Why
dunking?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJ9QlBixeFMrUbTqZfJreuKdl93TtjgS_BaXtV-FaezgdbTrwM34RAbCXEtBq_ZrEwv2d7dSVnHIO6vBLuTXKqIAawfrhZ0O1rjrFtOog-MvMmyzSrag67xtqC1RCATf9rIOeVE8XV0ESL6HQegccb9r6IFP_M9Co8YmqX1lHZjQfo3GAVraTwEoEbWM/s256/images%20(6).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="256" height="493" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJ9QlBixeFMrUbTqZfJreuKdl93TtjgS_BaXtV-FaezgdbTrwM34RAbCXEtBq_ZrEwv2d7dSVnHIO6vBLuTXKqIAawfrhZ0O1rjrFtOog-MvMmyzSrag67xtqC1RCATf9rIOeVE8XV0ESL6HQegccb9r6IFP_M9Co8YmqX1lHZjQfo3GAVraTwEoEbWM/w640-h493/images%20(6).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuck him, I'm a cat, what do I care...</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"No,"
Wheelan said, blowing her hair out of his face. "Why do people want to
turn into cats anyway? My God, it must feel crawly."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well,
you know what Mr. Balderstone says."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"He's
a quack."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Perhaps.
But nevertheless he perfected a method for turning people into cats and back.
And that's more than a lot of people have done. He can't be all quack."
Karen relaxed and snuggled back against Wheelan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Who
the hell else would want to discover something like that? You might just as
well invent an economical method of canning persimmons." Wheelan
shuddered. "Cats."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
closed her eyes. "Anyway, he says it's a great tension-reliever. People
get out of themselves. Forget their troubles. Aggressions. That's very
important in times like these when everyone is worrying about blowing up
unexpectedly."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
tightened his arm around her. "Damn. When I think of all those people
going out to the old fairgrounds and turning into cats and yowling around
it...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Makes
you crawly?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
turned her head up and kissed her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen's
tongue shot under his and back and she pulled away. "You take everything
too seriously. Mr. Balderstone has a way of helping people relax. So what?
What's that Latin thing about disputandum and all?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Yeah,
but a whole town. My town and yours! And it's given over to turning people into
cats."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"My
town and yours! You sound like Chief Neff." She kissed him on the cheek.
"Hey. Last summer we didn't spend all this time debating."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Wheelan
smiled quickly. "I'm maturing. Once you pass twenty-six you get wisdom.
You'll see."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
say if they want to be cats let them. It's very good therapy. And Lord knows we
need it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It's
not right."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
sighed. "What was that comic strip when we were kids, about the cat and
the mouse? Cicero's Cat?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Krazy
Kat?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
nodded. "You're like that mouse. Always have to go around throwing bricks
at the cats. And it always got him in trouble. Ignatz. That was his name,
Ignatz Mouse. That's who you are."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Very
profound insight." Wheelan ran his hand down her back, touching each of
the white buttons on her sweater. "I'm still going to do something about
it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Though
she was facing away Wheelan could feel her smile. "Glenn?" she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
undid the first small button. "Yeah?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
went out there last week. And it is quite relaxing. I've felt much happier this
week."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
got to the second button before he realized what she had said. "Karen,
you're kidding!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"No.
So you see, it's nothing so terrible."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
stood up. "Damn it. Damn it!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
rose, reaching behind her to rebutton her sweater. "You're being pretty
intolerant."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Damn
it, the whole town!" He backed away, his feet sinking deep in the cold
sand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
shrugged. "Don't take it so big." She looked up at him hopefully.
"Well, you'll at least drive me home?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Belatedly,
Wheelan said, "Sure. Come on." Near his car he said quietly,
"Now I'm really going to get them."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">It
wasn't until the next Wednesday that Wheelan had his leaflets ready to hand
out. The local printers had, one way and another, refused the job. He'd had to
have them done in Santa Monica.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
two cub scouts he'd hired to help him had both come down with something late
Tuesday. Wheelan stationed himself on Chambers Drive near the two largest
tourist motels early on the clear June morning.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
had handed out five of his anti-lycanthropy leaflets when Chief Harold Neff
drove up on his official motorcycle. Wheelan spotted him a block away by his
gold-painted crash helmet. It was the only one on the force.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Hi,
there, Glenn," said Neff, after he'd parked the cycle in a red zone.
"What are you up to?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
frowned at the chief's broad, tanned face. "I'm agitating, Hal."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Neff
rubbed his jaw. "Without a permit, though?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"As
a matter of fact, yes."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
chief nodded. "You'll have to stop. You can't hand out those things
without a permit."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
tucked his box of leaflets up under his arm. "Who do I see about a
permit?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Me,
Glenn." Chief Neff flipped off his helmet and stroked his crewcut, looking
down the street. "Let's go down to the Blue Oasis and have a beer and
talk."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Can
you drink while on duty?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Beer."
He took Wheelan's arm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What
about your motorcycle?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Won't
come to any harm."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">In
one of the Blue Oasis's dark leather booths Neff said, "Don't you like the
way the old town's blossoming, Glenn?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Cats
make me feel crawly," Wheelan said, pushing his schooner back and forth in
front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Why,
even the slums are a sight to see. And San Miguel's getting to be a well-liked
spot. Like Capistrano and Disneyland. Being well-liked is good for a town's
civic pride." The chief grinned at Wheelan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
think there's something basically wrong with people turning into cats."
Wheelan made up his mind not to drink the beer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"There
might be something wrong in it if people did it out of spite or for mischief,
Glenn. But I think most competent authorities will agree that Mr. Balderstone's
method has a real, honest-to-gosh therapeutic value." He looked straight
at Wheelan. "There's a lot of nervous tension these days, Glenn. Even
teaching in Pasadena you must have seen that."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well,
Hal, I'll admit that. I just don't think Balderstone's approach is any
solution."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Neff
laughed. "There's not really much solution to anything." He leaned
back into the shadows in the booth corner. "You're as interested in our
town as anybody, aren't you, Glenn? Growing up here, playing in the Little
League, attending Grover Cleveland High."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Sure.
That's why I hate to see it taken over by some crackpot cult."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You're
entitled to your opinions. Just don't hand them out in the form of
leaflets."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"About
that permit?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well,
Glenn, you know how tangled in red tape any government gets. It'll take time.
Even with me putting the spurs to everybody. Uh, you're leaving the first part
of September?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Yeah,
when school opens." Wheelan pushed his glass away and slid out of the
booth. "It'll take until early September to get the permit, huh?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"No.
With me seeing to it you should have it by the end of August." He stood
and shook hands. Something about shaking hands with Chief Neff unsettled
Wheelan. Trying not to show it, he walked with Neff out into the light.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qOkDii8xgUDMXn8z1G6DFbs_KH8RlCUMPDxjB6TGP76oRpcorp6rcVcYXL-pb945Ao7W6FS835xOvGJ2EKV5r9uKqrFSKjFTHTyKi-AHabHvJ_Is8sxe4qCBEI0gKjb1YVDaCqdJ_FNuHTclPwUuCqhGahH4WtYQKfI7U6Wg4w_swvkaTDDJ9axQqos/s1000/1000_F_162723507_NfIsyoNxn7fRyqB2L3ZKsHnmp2AZJlEX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="625" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qOkDii8xgUDMXn8z1G6DFbs_KH8RlCUMPDxjB6TGP76oRpcorp6rcVcYXL-pb945Ao7W6FS835xOvGJ2EKV5r9uKqrFSKjFTHTyKi-AHabHvJ_Is8sxe4qCBEI0gKjb1YVDaCqdJ_FNuHTclPwUuCqhGahH4WtYQKfI7U6Wg4w_swvkaTDDJ9axQqos/w640-h400/1000_F_162723507_NfIsyoNxn7fRyqB2L3ZKsHnmp2AZJlEX.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's just a bunch of space-cats, invading your town.</td></tr></tbody></table></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
was squatting, studying the bottom shelves of his aunt's refrigerator. He
looked into an opened tin of smoked oysters, then decided against making a
sandwich. He opened a can of beer and sat down at the white-topped table. This
was the night his aunt went out to Balderstone's. Wheelan shivered. They even
had special buses running out there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
doorbell rang, or rather chimed a tune that had been a favorite of his aunt's
during prohibition. Karen Wylie was standing on the front porch in a big tan
coat. "Hi," she said. "Busy?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Pretty
much."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
glanced at his hand. "Can I have a beer?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
moved back so she could enter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">After
he'd taken her coat and brought her a beer Karen said, "What are you up to
now?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well,
I sent letters to both our local papers, but they haven't been printed. I
suppose you know about my trying to hand out leaflets last week. Then I tried
to rent a soundtruck, but Neff says I need a permit for that, too." He sat
down on his aunt's chintz-covered sofa. "Now I'm doing a mail campaign."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Why
don't you give up?" Karen watched him with an anxious expression.
"What good are you doing?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
think that every citizen has a right to act as he chooses. I mean, when an evil
exists it's the individual's right to try to combat it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"With
leaflets?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"In
any way he can," Wheelan said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
smiled. "You just look silly. And you'll annoy people. Really, Glenn,
what's wrong with all this? You're just judging others by your own standards.
All this talk about good and evil."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
don't think people should turn into cats. If they have to, I don't think our
town should encourage them." He clenched his fists. "Why, they've got
signs on the road now, telling how far it is to Balderstone's temple, or
whatever he calls it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"There's
certainly nothing unethical in advertising, Glenn. You're not that
narrow-minded."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
finished his beer and bent the can in half. He was angry enough to do it with
one hand. "Let's forget it. How've you been?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Wonderful."
She touched one hand to her temple. "Very relaxed."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Which
is your night in the temple?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
frowned. "Oh, I've only dropped out a couple of times."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Rubbing
his hands slowly together, Wheelan said, "I'm trying to start an anti-cat
league, Karen. Would you join?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
laughed and stood up. "How many members have you got?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
just started mailing yesterday."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"But
so far?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"None."
He picked Karen's coat off the chair he draped it on. "Thanks for dropping
in."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Getting
into her coat Karen said, "Take it easy, Glenn, will you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
have to do what I think is right."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
was smiling as he held the door open for her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSdnFqSvdtEbHMQFe2dR9Nx2NiphISJA6zhRW3YFJJDg7tdY8nZjcWrwqfMclKIE_kxq-NWLYP2QCzTVqI2E1zbf5yD0WGmx2ZoozNpXvoM3pNxyGcnt6Rm1kSN2lhDE-6noTPj4p3gcNHyWuFJ433FNaNzhErdkax60m17nzF0TLd_uHOKv8WIj0jTE/s700/384b4fb0931512d75b53a85c293391a5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSdnFqSvdtEbHMQFe2dR9Nx2NiphISJA6zhRW3YFJJDg7tdY8nZjcWrwqfMclKIE_kxq-NWLYP2QCzTVqI2E1zbf5yD0WGmx2ZoozNpXvoM3pNxyGcnt6Rm1kSN2lhDE-6noTPj4p3gcNHyWuFJ433FNaNzhErdkax60m17nzF0TLd_uHOKv8WIj0jTE/w640-h640/384b4fb0931512d75b53a85c293391a5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Louis probably stole this picture. You have to admire him for that.</td></tr></tbody></table></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It
was a foggy night, two nights after Wheelan had picketed the fairgrounds and
been run off by Chief Neff. Wheelan had decided to walk down toward the beach
after dinner. His aunt wasn't speaking to him. Nor was she cooking for him. He
got a hamburger at a drive-in across the road from the long narrow San Miguel
beach; then wandered through the fog toward the last sidewalk before the sand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
heard a car slow behind him, then saw the nose of a Ford convertible slide out
of the thickening mist. Eventually he saw Karen, her dark hair in a thin scarf,
smiling at him from behind the wheel. "You mad?" she called.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
finished the hamburger and wiped his hands on his pocket handkerchief.
"More or less."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Want
to come along for a drive?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
came up to the passenger side of the front seat. "Why don't you put the
top down?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
like the way the fog feels. Come on." She stretched across the front seat
and opened the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Someplace
in particular?" He caught the door as it swung out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well,
yes. Somebody wants to see you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Oh?"
He got in. "You playing messenger now?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Don't
be nasty. This is for your own good, or I wouldn't be doing it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Okay.
I take your word for it." Wheelan stretched his legs out as far as they
would go and folded his arms.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
made a U-turn on the smooth street and drove carefully back through the town.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Near
the fairgrounds Wheelan asked, "You taking me to the meeting with
you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
shook her head, turning the car sharply up a steep, tree-lined street. They
stopped in front of a ranch-style bungalow. "Here we are," she said,
getting out of the car.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
followed her up a brick path, his hands in his pockets. The fog was tightening
in around them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">A
short man with a high, lined forehead and cropped gray hair opened the door of
the bungalow. "Evening, Karen," he said, smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Mr.
Balderstone, Mr. Wheelan," Karen said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
nodded and came into the house after her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
stopped in front of a deep fireplace. "Thought we ought to have a chat."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
hear you mentioned me in your service the night I picketed your place,"
Wheelan said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Explained
to newcomers that you were the town eccentric." Balderstone's heavy gray
eyebrows slanted toward each other. "People come to my lectures—don't call
them services—to unbend. To relax. Don't like to have somebody shouting at them
through a megaphone and waving signs, Wheelan." He crossed the room.
"Drink?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
shook his head, glancing at Karen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
had sat in a straight back chair and folded her hands. "Scotch and
soda," she said to Balderstone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi69vSBobo4alKl8YFWIyXylqYgR2pzhsgz1bmE0plYf3c-thZSV5sN4Sa-A9J9LQQGrjBmQVM9afEZWi2NLK1XJsaZM3cTN69fAmQPCL-GeM6Ez2uPlfDNCm998JcsaY_ZaHLaXIcWDFM65xNcmJpFIYhOqW_q38oakahsXFhGnJWVS0-a7_j89AfrW4Q/s400/_Bjv1gNM_400x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi69vSBobo4alKl8YFWIyXylqYgR2pzhsgz1bmE0plYf3c-thZSV5sN4Sa-A9J9LQQGrjBmQVM9afEZWi2NLK1XJsaZM3cTN69fAmQPCL-GeM6Ez2uPlfDNCm998JcsaY_ZaHLaXIcWDFM65xNcmJpFIYhOqW_q38oakahsXFhGnJWVS0-a7_j89AfrW4Q/w640-h640/_Bjv1gNM_400x400.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Shaken, not stirred, Baby."</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">After
he made the drinks Balderstone said, "Some consider me a benefactor,
Wheelan. I have invented a somewhat unique thing. Applied lycanthropy—though
most people think of that as involving only wolves." He gestured, and ice
rattled in his glass. "Cats have a much higher therapeutic value. It's
essential, Wheelan, for people to get out of themselves now and then. To find
relief from tension so that their lives may be more rewarding and
satisfying." He moved closer to Wheelan, who was still standing near the
door. "These are troubled times, Wheelan."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I've
told him that myself," Karen said, trying her Scotch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"The
results of applied lycanthropy have been most positive. Not only have people
been helped, but San Miguel has been helped. Don't think other cities wouldn't
jump at the chance to have me locate there." He cleared his throat.
"As a matter of fact, we're considering opening branches. It's my
intention to help the entire world."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"And
it's my intention to run you out of town," Wheelan said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
laughed and shook his head. "Miss Wylie tells me you're a decent fellow,
basically, as are so many before the pressures of everyday life remold them. At
any rate, I simply want to point out that many of us are annoyed by you. I
don't think you want that."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Yes,
I do. I'm out to get you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You're
getting on my nerves." Balderstone scratched his nose. "Leaflets,
pamphlets, letters. Demonstrations. And now I get word that you've been going
around to pet shops and florists trying to buy large quantities of
catnip."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Nobody
has any."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Of
course not. And I also find that yesterday you visited the humane society in
Santa Monica and tried to buy several big dogs. The trouble with you, Wheelan,
you've got no civic pride."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
smiled. "I'm as proud of San Miguel as anybody."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"And
further, Wheelan, you can't stand to see people have a good time. And even
worse, you're against scientific progress. I'm sure that had you lived in
Austria at the end of the last century you would have sent Sigmund Freud crank
letters."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"He
wasn't a quack."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You
annoy me more up close than at a distance."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
two of them were drifting closer to each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
jumped up. "Mr. Balderstone, perhaps if Glenn attended one of your
lectures he wouldn't be so prejudiced."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
don't want him sulking around my talks."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"But
it might convince him."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
squinted one eye. "Hmm. Perhaps."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
shook his head. "I wouldn't go near one."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Oh,
that's right, Mr. Balderstone. Cats make him feel crawly."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
stroked his chin. "You're in need of help yourself, Wheelan."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Couldn't
he stand backstage?" Karen came and took Wheelan's arm. "I'll stay
with you, Glenn."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"He'd
heckle," said Balderstone, checking his watch. "But if you're willing
to vouch for him—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I'm
not going near that place," Wheelan said, "unless it's to burn it
down."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
tightened his tie and studied Wheelan's face. "Destroy city property? Fine
citizen you are."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
tightened her grip on Wheelan's arm. "Come, Glenn. I know you'll think
differently when you see the fine work Mr. Balderstone is doing."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
was half in a closet, selecting an expensive-looking coat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
said quietly to Karen, "You're not going to...?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Change?
Not tonight. Please come. I want you to be convinced."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
was aware that wouldn't happen, but he was curious. "All right."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Everyone
was smiling when they started for the fairgrounds.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmEDX30TWq1PCA9qw5bDnLwsXXgLDPc4YxtZCDqm__y2EClZ1eTtLjpHbEvI6VRYoVgv5dcVMF9-cMj4h5j4tTfWjdDZFXGnojcY7bfjP8WjyebtvPVKOKFJl7ftPRDj2ZQ-ggMu3AoAUwd2AT-jTDuTTP27Zt7IZY2Nxv7lsbDeFVz1474vwf-8vcQY/s297/images%20(5).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="297" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmEDX30TWq1PCA9qw5bDnLwsXXgLDPc4YxtZCDqm__y2EClZ1eTtLjpHbEvI6VRYoVgv5dcVMF9-cMj4h5j4tTfWjdDZFXGnojcY7bfjP8WjyebtvPVKOKFJl7ftPRDj2ZQ-ggMu3AoAUwd2AT-jTDuTTP27Zt7IZY2Nxv7lsbDeFVz1474vwf-8vcQY/w640-h366/images%20(5).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The portents are good for some kind of an outcome.</td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone's
platform was set up at the edge of the field where tents were once pitched.
Just to the left of the platform was the old merry-go-round that had become
city property after the last carnival had gone broke. Balderstone's narrow
stage was backed by canvas flats, and Wheelan and Karen stood behind one of
these on some machinery crates, watching the audience through a peephole in the
canvas.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"This
isn't my idea of backstage," Wheelan said, taking his eye from the hole so
Karen could peek.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"All
of Mr. Balderstone's money goes into improving his process. And things like
that."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
night was getting colder and high mist hung over the fairgrounds. Only half of
the bench seats were filled, meaning probably about three hundred in
attendance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">When
Wheelan looked out again the lights around the field had dimmed and the two
young men with blond curly hair and double-breasted suits had stopped taking
donations at the entrance arch. Balderstone left the folding chair he'd been
sitting in and walked slowly across the stage planks to the mike.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Nothing
like a touch of cold to keep people home at nights," he said, acknowledging
with a grin the laughter that followed. He smoothed the front of his coat and
took a small blue leaflet out of his pocket. "Think you'll find copies of
this tacked to your seats. If you're a regular you know the system. If not,
best leaf through it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">About
a third of the heads ducked to look for the leaflet. Balderstone pinched his
nose and briefly glanced at the peephole.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
slipped a leaflet into Wheelan's hand. He tossed it aside. "You want to
look again?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"No,
I know the procedure. You keep watching. You're the one we want to
convince."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
squeezed his arm gently.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Lots
of worry these days," Balderstone said. "People don't know where
their next worry's coming from."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Most
of the heads, except the ones that were still bent over the leaflet, nodded in
agreement.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Lots
of problems people just can't solve. But they still want to give it a
try." Balderstone's voice grew louder. "One more chance at bat.
That's not the way. Worrying about problems causes fretting. Fretting produces
tension. Tense people aren't happy people." Balderstone's hands came up in
front of his chest, gradually clenching. "If you can't change the world,
I'm informing you, you can change yourself. At least for awhile. That's
important. That's what is called escape. It's good for you. Applied
lycanthropy."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
lights had been dimming all through his last sentences. A few yards from the
merry-go-round the blond young men had a bonfire going.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We're
going to lose all those worries. We're not going to fret. Not now, not for
awhile." Balderstone's voice seemed to have taken on some of the crackle
of the fire. "Every one of you should have a capsule. Now, who
doesn't?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">A
dozen hands went up and one of the young men ran through the crowd, giving out
capsules from an orange cardboard box.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
had stepped out of Wheelan's range, but he reappeared wheeling something that
looked like a giant sunlamp. It was half again as tall as he was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"He's
got enough quack equipment," Wheelan said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Be
still," Karen said, her hold tight now on his arm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">"We're
going to change," shouted Balderstone, not using the microphone.
"When I say 'swallow' I want you all to swallow those capsules. Then you
better get out of your clothes quick! Because when I turn on my applied
lycanthropy beam things are going to start happening." He had reached the
platform edge and was crouched there, teetering. "Now! One, two, three.
Swallow!"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Balderstone
dived for the beam and clicked it on. Ties and hats shot up into the air. Coat
sleeves flapped, became entangled with print dresses and lace slips.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Looks
like Annapolis on graduation day," Wheelan said softly, starting to feel
uneasy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
beam was played over the audience, slowly from left to right. All the lights
were out and there was only the dim orange flicker of the bonfire. "Relax,
relax," Balderstone shouted. "Change!" He dropped and sat on the
stage edge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">There
was a sputtering howl near the entrance and a large black cat leaped up,
clawing at the air, twisting and falling back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
couldn't breathe, couldn't tell Karen to stop her fingernails from digging into
his skin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Great
yowling cats were popping up across the field, faster and faster. Wheelan
noticed his dentist still hadn't gotten his striped shorts off. Then he jerked
back against Karen and they both tumbled off the crates. "Run," he
said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
twisted up and caught him. "No, Glenn. Wait. Till they change back. You'll
see how happy and calm they all are. You'll be convinced."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Cats,"
he said, pulling away. "Run!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
ran; jumped the fence beyond the rodeo area and stumbled away into the brush.
He got home in under an hour. It was mostly downhill.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Two
nights later Wheelan set fire to Balderstone's bungalow while he was away at
the lecture. The fire department put out the fire before more than half of the
house was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Early
on the following morning he rented an airplane and had his remaining leaflets
dropped over San Miguel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
had decided that if he couldn't do anything positive he was still going to
annoy Balderstone and anybody else who was on his side.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">No
one mentioned his harrassing actions to him, not even Chief Neff. Wheelan's
aunt did indicate that she would never cook another meal or wash another pajama
top for him. He moved to a run-down motel near the ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3LfIu_MIg8bwW0cvZxVFyT5afiNbt7-T-SD8V7V_blZYXdQqGHDmFbkud_MUai7Fyb_1ZDKk97Hg3xk8mBnjcA8qR9EIu0P-Ky_g8IBvrkcIQSgTJobb7jcyRPdx61h7VrrqoIf8_0ypmpkael4qW-pJmHlCRqzIHkhQs4-IbX_CDKAmkNLo5W89RIM/s1200/Ron_Goulart_2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="1200" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3LfIu_MIg8bwW0cvZxVFyT5afiNbt7-T-SD8V7V_blZYXdQqGHDmFbkud_MUai7Fyb_1ZDKk97Hg3xk8mBnjcA8qR9EIu0P-Ky_g8IBvrkcIQSgTJobb7jcyRPdx61h7VrrqoIf8_0ypmpkael4qW-pJmHlCRqzIHkhQs4-IbX_CDKAmkNLo5W89RIM/w640-h430/Ron_Goulart_2009.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Author and social historian Ron Goulart.</td></tr></tbody></table></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
had been there nearly three days when, just after sundown, someone knocked on
his door. It was Karen, wearing a light cotton dress, her hair pulled back.
"Are you comfortable, Glenn?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
smiled, "Yeah. I like this business now. I've been thinking up new
activities."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
frowned around the room. "Like to come out for a walk?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Where?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Oh,
along the beach. You can't spend all your life in a damp motel room."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It's
not damp. That's the fresh sea air you feel." He picked a windbreaker off
the bed and nodded at the door. "So, let's walk." The night was warm,
but heavy with fog. "Sorry I left you up there the other night, Karen. But
you know...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Yes.
I know. Cats make you crawly." She took his hand when they reached the
sidewalk and pulled him after her in the direction of the beach. "Have you
really been doing all those annoying things, Glenn?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Who
else? You think I've gotten any recruits?" The street was quiet. They left
the last sidewalk and walked down through scrubby brush to the beach. The water
looked blurred as it touched the misty shore. "Just me."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen
shivered and stepped away from Wheelan. "You've just made an awful
nuisance of yourself, Glenn. I've always been very fond of you, as I'm sure you
know. But—I'm very sorry."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
darted in suddenly and pushed hard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
surprise and the clump of brush behind him sent Wheelan over into the sand.
When he got to his knees and looked around he caught a brief flicker of Karen's
skirt in the fog. Then she was lost. He stood. He tried to brush himself off,
but his hands had started to shake. And he was beginning to feel odd in the
stomach.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wind
came in then across the water and scattered some of the mist. He saw the cats.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Dozens
of them, crouched twenty yards away. Their tails were switching and Wheelan
became aware of a puzzling, whirring sound.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Purring.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">In
another gust more mist scattered, and Wheelan realized that he was cut off from
the town by a half circle of hundreds of cats. And they were contentedly edging
down across the sand toward him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Hundreds
of damned cats! They made Wheelan feel so crawly he couldn't move. But if he
didn't move soon the first of the cats would touch him. That thought made him
jump back. The cats moved up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
sand was sucking at his shoes; he could feel the chill of the ocean on the back
of his neck. Maybe if he ran straight at them they'd scatter. But he couldn't
do that. They knew that, too. The cats eased a little nearer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Wheelan
bent and grabbed off his shoes, then his socks. He backed into the cold, wet
sand near the water. He got out of his clothes—all except his shorts; he'd have
to come ashore someplace. The cats were close now. For a moment Wheelan thought
he wouldn't be able to move, but finally he was able to grin and thumb his
nose.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then
he ran quickly out into the water.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It
was dark and cold, but he was a fair swimmer. He could make it down the coast a
quarter mile or so. Far enough. As he swam, Wheelan made up his mind he'd never
come back to his home town again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Not
even for Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Louis
Shalako <a href="https://books.apple.com/ca/author/louis-shalako/id709949458" target="_blank">has books and stories available from iTunes.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">See
his <a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako?i=187204-51" target="_blank">stuff on ArtPal.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Here’s
a free copy of <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM&pli=1" target="_blank">his new audiobook.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">More
on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_Goulart" target="_blank">Ron Goulart.</a> <i>(Wiki)</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8635674" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">Image.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-385717109225989212024-01-14T10:07:00.000-05:002024-01-14T10:07:00.511-05:00Negore, the Coward. Jack London.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfyXMvF9ZUMDD6q-eFSOVGfiF4W3jHv2Jd9rC0tFeuFCw7YH5Qcbxf1_wqBfEW9YEXdhW34uFZt-fJAEfkaUAZbMBFvK35DxSZOqBA1WN5kzPEi1rx8PG4MHMtG9NdjGITMRroHPNRgVPXiQQgw_8J5R1qYCQgFa8dG0Qhr7XswXltN9Q7pHRzucfWTA/s2882/002-hee-ohks-te-kin-rabbit-skin-leggings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2882" data-original-width="2356" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfyXMvF9ZUMDD6q-eFSOVGfiF4W3jHv2Jd9rC0tFeuFCw7YH5Qcbxf1_wqBfEW9YEXdhW34uFZt-fJAEfkaUAZbMBFvK35DxSZOqBA1WN5kzPEi1rx8PG4MHMtG9NdjGITMRroHPNRgVPXiQQgw_8J5R1qYCQgFa8dG0Qhr7XswXltN9Q7pHRzucfWTA/w524-h640/002-hee-ohks-te-kin-rabbit-skin-leggings.jpg" width="524" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Jack London</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">NEGORE,
THE COWARD<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
had followed the trail of his fleeing people for eleven days, and his pursuit
had been in itself a flight; for behind him he knew full well were the dreaded
Russians, toiling through the swampy lowlands and over the steep divides, bent
on no less than the extermination of all his people. He was travelling
light. A rabbit-skin sleeping-robe, a muzzle-loading rifle, and a few
pounds of sun-dried salmon constituted his outfit. He would have
marvelled that a whole people—women and children and aged—could travel so
swiftly, had he not known the terror that drove them on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">It
was in the old days of the Russian occupancy of Alaska, when the nineteenth
century had run but half its course, that Negore fled after his fleeing tribe
and came upon it this summer night by the head waters of the Pee-lat.
Though near the midnight hour, it was bright day as he passed through the weary
camp. Many saw him, all knew him, but few and cold were the greetings he
received.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Negore,
the Coward,” he heard Illiha, a young woman, laugh, and Sun-ne, his sister’s
daughter, laughed with her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Black
anger ate at his heart; but he gave no sign, threading his way among the
camp-fires until he came to one where sat an old man. A young woman was
kneading with skilful fingers the tired muscles of his legs. He raised a
sightless face and listened intently as Negore’s foot crackled a dead twig.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Who
comes?” he queried in a thin, tremulous voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Negore,”
said the young woman, scarcely looking up from her task.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Negore’s
face was expressionless. For many minutes he stood and waited. The
old man’s head had sunk back upon his chest. The young woman pressed and
prodded the wasted muscles, resting her body on her knees, her bowed head
hidden as in a cloud by her black wealth of hair. Negore watched the
supple body, bending at the hips as a lynx’s body might bend, pliant as a young
willow stalk, and, withal, strong as only youth is strong. He looked, and
was aware of a great yearning, akin in sensation to physical hunger. At
last he spoke, saying:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Is
there no greeting for Negore, who has been long gone and has but now come
back?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
looked up at him with cold eyes. The old man chuckled to himself after
the manner of the old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Thou
art my woman, Oona,” Negore said, his tones dominant and conveying a hint of
menace.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
arose with catlike ease and suddenness to her full height, her eyes flashing,
her nostrils quivering like a deer’s.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“I
was thy woman to be, Negore, but thou art a coward; the daughter of Old Kinoos
mates not with a coward!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
silenced him with an imperious gesture as he strove to speak.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Old
Kinoos and I came among you from a strange land. Thy people took us in by
their fires and made us warm, nor asked whence or why we wandered. It was
their thought that Old Kinoos had lost the sight of his eyes from age; nor did
Old Kinoos say otherwise, nor did I, his daughter. Old Kinoos is a brave
man, but Old Kinoos was never a boaster. And now, when I tell thee of how
his blindness came to be, thou wilt know, beyond question, that the daughter of
Kinoos cannot mother the children of a coward such as thou art, Negore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Again
she silenced the speech that rushed up to his tongue.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Know,
Negore, if journey be added unto journey of all thy journeyings through this
land, thou wouldst not come to the unknown Sitka on the Great Salt Sea.
In that place there be many Russian folk, and their rule is harsh. And
from Sitka, Old Kinoos, who was Young Kinoos in those days, fled away with me,
a babe in his arms, along the islands in the midst of the sea. My mother
dead tells the tale of his wrong; a Russian, dead with a spear through breast
and back, tells the tale of the vengeance of Kinoos.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“But
wherever we fled, and however far we fled, always did we find the hated Russian
folk. Kinoos was unafraid, but the sight of them was a hurt to his eyes;
so we fled on and on, through the seas and years, till we came to the Great Fog
Sea, Negore, of which thou hast heard, but which thou hast never seen. We
lived among many peoples, and I grew to be a woman; but Kinoos, growing old,
took to him no other woman, nor did I take a man.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“At
last we came to Pastolik, which is where the Yukon drowns itself in the Great
Fog Sea. Here we lived long, on the rim of the sea, among a people by
whom the Russians were well hated. But sometimes they came, these
Russians, in great ships, and made the people of Pastolik show them the way
through the islands uncountable of the many-mouthed Yukon. And sometimes
the men they took to show them the way never came back, till the people became
angry and planned a great plan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“So,
when there came a ship, Old Kinoos stepped forward and said he would show the
way. He was an old man then, and his hair was white; but he was
unafraid. And he was cunning, for he took the ship to where the sea sucks
in to the land and the waves beat white on the mountain called Romanoff.
The sea sucked the ship in to where the waves beat white, and it ground upon
the rocks and broke open its sides. Then came all the people of Pastolik,
(for this was the plan), with their war-spears, and arrows, and some few
guns. But first the Russians put out the eyes of Old Kinoos that he might
never show the way again, and then they fought, where the waves beat white,
with the people of Pastolik.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Now
the head-man of these Russians was Ivan. He it was, with his two thumbs,
who drove out the eyes of Kinoos. He it was who fought his way through
the white water, with two men left of all his men, and went away along the rim
of the Great Fog Sea into the north. Kinoos was wise. He could see
no more and was helpless as a child. So he fled away from the sea, up the
great, strange Yukon, even to Nulato, and I fled with him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“This
was the deed my father did, Kinoos, an old man. But how did the young
man, Negore?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Once
again she silenced him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“With
my own eyes I saw, at Nulato, before the gates of the great fort, and but few
days gone. I saw the Russian, Ivan, who thrust out my father’s eyes, lay
the lash of his dog-whip upon thee and beat thee like a dog. This I saw,
and knew thee for a coward. But I saw thee not, that night, when all thy
people—yea, even the boys not yet hunters—fell upon the Russians and slew them
all.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Not
Ivan,” said Negore, quietly. “Even now is he on our heels, and with him
many Russians fresh up from the sea.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Oona
made no effort to hide her surprise and chagrin that Ivan was not dead, but
went on:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“In
the day I saw thee a coward; in the night, when all men fought, even the boys
not yet hunters, I saw thee not and knew thee doubly a coward.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Thou
art done? All done?” Negore asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
nodded her head and looked at him askance, as though astonished that he should
have aught to say.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Know
then that Negore is no coward,” he said; and his speech was very low and
quiet. “Know that when I was yet a boy I journeyed alone down to the
place where the Yukon drowns itself in the Great Fog Sea. Even to
Pastolik I journeyed, and even beyond, into the north, along the rim of the
sea. This I did when I was a boy, and I was no coward. Nor was I
coward when I journeyed, a young man and alone, up the Yukon farther than man
had ever been, so far that I came to another folk, with white faces, who live
in a great fort and talk speech other than that the Russians talk. Also
have I killed the great bear of the Tanana country, where no one of my people
hath ever been. And I have fought with the Nuklukyets, and the Kaltags,
and the Sticks in far regions, even I, and alone. These deeds, whereof no
man knows, I speak for myself. Let my people speak for me of things I
have done which they know. They will not say Negore is a coward.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
finished proudly, and proudly waited.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2J8KeZ2Ppw2339baraj9Z3xlrlffPzv-2xx7bUwS_BYNzdFm0spqZGvzz44bkzz_S3KcwGM27m6qofeCoucTDJsNRdlPmUnAQXHDTzeD-sk76qUH5DsUNRig1p0gwv7FGu02j5PgHw5SfKp613v6XjeXEygT7hee0ZryVRom8-_iu2UJMdA-iT-n4-Q/s800/6a00d8345293e069e2019101fc9ef5970c-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="800" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2J8KeZ2Ppw2339baraj9Z3xlrlffPzv-2xx7bUwS_BYNzdFm0spqZGvzz44bkzz_S3KcwGM27m6qofeCoucTDJsNRdlPmUnAQXHDTzeD-sk76qUH5DsUNRig1p0gwv7FGu02j5PgHw5SfKp613v6XjeXEygT7hee0ZryVRom8-_iu2UJMdA-iT-n4-Q/w400-h328/6a00d8345293e069e2019101fc9ef5970c-800wi.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“These
be things which happened before I came into the land,” she said, “and I know
not of them. Only do I know what I know, and I know I saw thee lashed
like a dog in the day; and in the night, when the great fort flamed red and the
men killed and were killed, I saw thee not. Also, thy people do call thee
Negore, the Coward. It is thy name now, Negore, the Coward.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“It
is not a good name,” Old Kinoos chuckled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Thou
dost not understand, Kinoos,” Negore said gently. “But I shall make thee
understand. Know that I was away on the hunt of the bear, with Kamo-tah,
my mother’s son. And Kamo-tah fought with a great bear. We had no meat
for three days, and Kamo-tah was not strong of arm nor swift of foot. And
the great bear crushed him, so, till his bones cracked like dry sticks.
Thus I found him, very sick and groaning upon the ground. And there was
no meat, nor could I kill aught that the sick man might eat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“So
I said, ‘I will go to Nulato and bring thee food, also strong men to carry thee
to camp.’ And Kamo-tah said, ‘Go thou to Nulato and get food, but say no
word of what has befallen me. And when I have eaten, and am grown well
and strong, I will kill this bear. Then will I return in honor to Nulato,
and no man may laugh and say Kamo-tah was undone by a bear.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“So
I gave heed to my brother’s words; and when I was come to Nulato, and the
Russian, Ivan, laid the lash of his dog-whip upon me, I knew I must not
fight. For no man knew of Kamo-tah, sick and groaning and hungry; and did
I fight with Ivan, and die, then would my brother die, too. So it was,
Oona, that thou sawest me beaten like a dog.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Then
I heard the talk of the shamans and chiefs that the Russians had brought
strange sicknesses upon the people, and killed our men, and stolen our women,
and that the land must be made clean. As I say, I heard the talk, and I
knew it for good talk, and I knew that in the night the Russians were to be
killed. But there was my brother, Kamo-tah, sick and groaning and with no
meat; so I could not stay and fight with the men and the boys not yet hunters.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“And
I took with me meat and fish, and the lash-marks of Ivan, and I found Kamo-tah
no longer groaning, but dead. Then I went back to Nulato, and, behold,
there was no Nulato—only ashes where the great fort had stood, and the bodies
of many men. And I saw the Russians come up the Yukon in boats, fresh
from the sea, many Russians; and I saw Ivan creep forth from where he lay hid
and make talk with them. And the next day I saw Ivan lead them upon the
trail of the tribe. Even now are they upon the trail, and I am here,
Negore, but no coward.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“This
is a tale I hear,” said Oona, though her voice was gentler than before.
“Kamo-tah is dead and cannot speak for thee, and I know only what I know, and I
must know thee of my own eyes for no coward.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Negore
made an impatient gesture.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“There
be ways and ways,” she added. “Art thou willing to do no less than what
Old Kinoos hath done?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
nodded his head, and waited.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“As
thou hast said, they seek for us even now, these Russians. Show them the
way, Negore, even as Old Kinoos showed them the way, so that they come,
unprepared, to where we wait for them, in a passage up the rocks. Thou
knowest the place, where the wall is broken and high. Then will we
destroy them, even Ivan. When they cling like flies to the wall, and top
is no less near than bottom, our men shall fall upon them from above and either
side, with spears, and arrows, and guns. And the women and children, from
above, shall loosen the great rocks and hurl them down upon them. It will
be a great day, for the Russians will be killed, the land will be made clean,
and Ivan, even Ivan who thrust out my father’s eyes and laid the lash of his
dog-whip upon thee, will be killed. Like a dog gone mad will he die, his
breath crushed out of him beneath the rocks. And when the fighting
begins, it is for thee, Negore, to crawl secretly away so that thou be not
slain.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Even
so,” he answered. “Negore will show them the way. And then?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“And
then I shall be thy woman, Negore’s woman, the brave man’s woman. And
thou shalt hunt meat for me and Old Kinoos, and I shall cook thy food, and sew
thee warm parkas and strong, and make thee moccasins after the way of my
people, which is a better way than thy people’s way. And as I say, I
shall be thy woman, Negore, always thy woman. And I shall make thy life
glad for thee, so that all thy days will be a song and laughter, and thou wilt
know the woman Oona as unlike all other women, for she has journeyed far, and
lived in strange places, and is wise in the ways of men and in the ways they
may be made glad. And in thine old age will she still make thee glad, and
thy memory of her in the days of thy strength will be sweet, for thou wilt know
always that she was ease to thee, and peace, and rest, and that beyond all
women to other men has she been woman to thee.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Even
so,” said Negore, and the hunger for her ate at his heart, and his arms went
out for her as a hungry man’s arms might go out for food.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“When
thou hast shown the way, Negore,” she chided him; but her eyes were soft, and
warm, and he knew she looked upon him as woman had never looked before.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“It
is well,” he said, turning resolutely on his heel. “I go now to make talk
with the chiefs, so that they may know I am gone to show the Russians the way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Oh,
Negore, my man! my man!” she said to herself, as she watched him go, but she
said it so softly that even Old Kinoos did not hear, and his ears were over
keen, what of his blindness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">* *
* * *<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Three
days later, having with craft ill-concealed his hiding-place, Negore was
dragged forth like a rat and brought before Ivan—“Ivan the Terrible” he was
known by the men who marched at his back. Negore was armed with a
miserable bone-barbed spear, and he kept his rabbit-skin robe wrapped closely
about him, and though the day was warm he shivered as with an ague. He
shook his head that he did not understand the speech Ivan put at him, and made
that he was very weary and sick, and wished only to sit down and rest, pointing
the while to his stomach in sign of his sickness, and shivering fiercely.
But Ivan had with him a man from Pastolik who talked the speech of Negore, and
many and vain were the questions they asked him concerning his tribe, till the
man from Pastolik, who was called Karduk, said:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“It
is the word of Ivan that thou shalt be lashed till thou diest if thou dost not
speak. And know, strange brother, when I tell thee the word of Ivan is
the law, that I am thy friend and no friend of Ivan. For I come not
willingly from my country by the sea, and I desire greatly to live; wherefore I
obey the will of my master—as thou wilt obey, strange brother, if thou art
wise, and wouldst live.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadR3d7v07T4e82mBpp0GNf8qpeaT23dZ0A97EJH2Kz1Rjlzit8AC_xNOKPcQ0wffW8nbcffjhkhReoaQDP_r8Xn3cimRnGiI7UTZKssk60rK1-51WD-WBPD9iS66bR8kLpg9ruyRsO3he0pV2KqFmI0oUGE9W-gKK4Z2YM4RHVASAZhBvDOBUqmVcEHA/s1040/800px-J.-M._Nattier_(d'apr%C3%A8s)_-_Portrait_de_Pierre_Ier_(mus%C3%A9e_de_l%E2%80%99Ermitage).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadR3d7v07T4e82mBpp0GNf8qpeaT23dZ0A97EJH2Kz1Rjlzit8AC_xNOKPcQ0wffW8nbcffjhkhReoaQDP_r8Xn3cimRnGiI7UTZKssk60rK1-51WD-WBPD9iS66bR8kLpg9ruyRsO3he0pV2KqFmI0oUGE9W-gKK4Z2YM4RHVASAZhBvDOBUqmVcEHA/w492-h640/800px-J.-M._Nattier_(d'apr%C3%A8s)_-_Portrait_de_Pierre_Ier_(mus%C3%A9e_de_l%E2%80%99Ermitage).jpg" width="492" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Nay,
strange brother,” Negore answered, “I know not the way my people are gone, for
I was sick, and they fled so fast my legs gave out from under me, and I fell
behind.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Negore
waited while Karduk talked with Ivan. Then Negore saw the Russian’s face
go dark, and he saw the men step to either side of him, snapping the lashes of
their whips. Whereupon he betrayed a great fright, and cried aloud that
he was a sick man and knew nothing, but would tell what he knew. And to
such purpose did he tell, that Ivan gave the word to his men to march, and on
either side of Negore marched the men with the whips, that he might not run
away. And when he made that he was weak of his sickness, and stumbled and
walked not so fast as they walked, they laid their lashes upon him till he
screamed with pain and discovered new strength. And when Karduk told him
all would he well with him when they had overtaken his tribe, he asked, “And
then may I rest and move not?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Continually
he asked, “And then may I rest and move not?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">And
while he appeared very sick and looked about him with dull eyes, he noted the
fighting strength of Ivan’s men, and noted with satisfaction that Ivan did not
recognize him as the man he had beaten before the gates of the fort. It
was a strange following his dull eyes saw. There were Slavonian hunters,
fair-skinned and mighty-muscled; short, squat Finns, with flat noses and round
faces; Siberian half-breeds, whose noses were more like eagle-beaks; and lean,
slant-eyed men, who bore in their veins the Mongol and Tartar blood as well as
the blood of the Slav. Wild adventurers they were, forayers and
destroyers from the far lands beyond the Sea of Bering, who blasted the new and
unknown world with fire and sword and clutched greedily for its wealth of fur
and hide. Negore looked upon them with satisfaction, and in his mind’s
eye he saw them crushed and lifeless at the passage up the rocks. And
ever he saw, waiting for him at the passage up the rocks, the face and the form
of Oona, and ever he heard her voice in his ears and felt the soft, warm glow
of her eyes. But never did he forget to shiver, nor to stumble where the
footing was rough, nor to cry aloud at the bite of the lash. Also, he was
afraid of Karduk, for he knew him for no true man. His was a false eye,
and an easy tongue—a tongue too easy, he judged, for the awkwardness of honest
speech.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">All
that day they marched. And on the next, when Karduk asked him at command
of Ivan, he said he doubted they would meet with his tribe till the
morrow. But Ivan, who had once been shown the way by Old Kinoos, and had
found that way to lead through the white water and a deadly fight, believed no
more in anything. So when they came to a passage up the rocks, he halted
his forty men, and through Karduk demanded if the way were clear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Negore
looked at it shortly and carelessly. It was a vast slide that broke the
straight wall of a cliff, and was overrun with brush and creeping plants, where
a score of tribes could have lain well hidden.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
shook his head. “Nay, there be nothing there,” he said. “The way is
clear.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Again
Ivan spoke to Karduk, and Karduk said:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Know,
strange brother, if thy talk be not straight, and if thy people block the way
and fall upon Ivan and his men, that thou shalt die, and at once.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“My
talk is straight,” Negore said. “The way is clear.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Still
Ivan doubted, and ordered two of his Slavonian hunters to go up alone.
Two other men he ordered to the side of Negore. They placed their guns
against his breast and waited. All waited. And Negore knew, should
one arrow fly, or one spear be flung, that his death would come upon him.
The two Slavonian hunters toiled upward till they grew small and smaller, and
when they reached the top and waved their hats that all was well, they were
like black specks against the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
guns were lowered from Negore’s breast and Ivan gave the order for his men to
go forward. Ivan was silent, lost in thought. For an hour he
marched, as though puzzled, and then, through Karduk’s mouth, he said to
Negore:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“How
didst thou know the way was clear when thou didst look so briefly upon it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Negore
thought of the little birds he had seen perched among the rocks and upon the
bushes, and smiled, it was so simple; but he shrugged his shoulders and made no
answer. For he was thinking, likewise, of another passage up the rocks,
to which they would soon come, and where the little birds would all be
gone. And he was glad that Karduk came from the Great Fog Sea, where
there were no trees or bushes, and where men learned water-craft instead of
land-craft and wood-craft.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Three
hours later, when the sun rode overhead, they came to another passage up the
rocks, and Karduk said:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Look
with all thine eyes, strange brother, and see if the way be clear, for Ivan is
not minded this time to wait while men go up before.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Negore
looked, and he looked with two men by his side, their guns resting against his
breast. He saw that the little birds were all gone, and once he saw the
glint of sunlight on a rifle-barrel. And he thought of Oona, and of her
words: “And when the fighting begins, it is for thee, Negore, to crawl
secretly away so that thou be not slain.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
felt the two guns pressing on his breast. This was not the way she had
planned. There would be no crawling secretly away. He would be the
first to die when the fighting began. But he said, and his voice was
steady, and he still feigned to see with dull eyes and to shiver from his
sickness:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“The
way is clear.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAu97MOHIWUpAumwmLgmosipr2GSupA1Cbd4bBqL2xsxXUP0gE5A6OI2U9767Z9PTSu8prObTyJMigebZHpAAhVr9JQCg4vPfERMamiHG2Zeg6Ff1OuVa7qB8Wh4NG1lGJ3KMKFZ06l9rLGa1JgBtlNqqjGSufu0iYKcTj3NQm0Y9j_a4cw3a5vWJrGc/s978/Koon-za-ya-me,_Female_War_Eagle_SAAM-1985.66.528_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="978" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAu97MOHIWUpAumwmLgmosipr2GSupA1Cbd4bBqL2xsxXUP0gE5A6OI2U9767Z9PTSu8prObTyJMigebZHpAAhVr9JQCg4vPfERMamiHG2Zeg6Ff1OuVa7qB8Wh4NG1lGJ3KMKFZ06l9rLGa1JgBtlNqqjGSufu0iYKcTj3NQm0Y9j_a4cw3a5vWJrGc/w524-h640/Koon-za-ya-me,_Female_War_Eagle_SAAM-1985.66.528_1.jpg" width="524" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">And
they started up, Ivan and his forty men from the far lands beyond the Sea of
Bering. And there was Karduk, the man from Pastolik, and Negore, with the
two guns always upon him. It was a long climb, and they could not go
fast; but very fast to Negore they seemed to approach the midway point where
top was no less near than bottom.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">A
gun cracked among the rocks to the right, and Negore heard the war-yell of all
his tribe, and for an instant saw the rocks and bushes bristle alive with his
kinfolk. Then he felt torn asunder by a burst of flame hot through his
being, and as he fell he knew the sharp pangs of life as it wrenches at the
flesh to be free.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">But
he gripped his life with a miser’s clutch and would not let it go. He
still breathed the air, which bit his lungs with a painful sweetness; and dimly
he saw and heard, with passing spells of blindness and deafness, the flashes of
sight and sound again wherein he saw the hunters of Ivan falling to their
deaths, and his own brothers fringing the carnage and filling the air with the
tumult of their cries and weapons, and, far above, the women and children
loosing the great rocks that leaped like things alive and thundered down.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
sun danced above him in the sky, the huge walls reeled and swung, and still he
heard and saw dimly. And when the great Ivan fell across his legs, hurled
there lifeless and crushed by a down-rushing rock, he remembered the blind eyes
of Old Kinoos and was glad.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Then
the sounds died down, and the rocks no longer thundered past, and he saw his
tribespeople creeping close and closer, spearing the wounded as they
came. And near to him he heard the scuffle of a mighty Slavonian hunter,
loath to die, and, half uprisen, borne back and down by the thirsty spears.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9pxYPAxvzCITaTDn8RyluBjVcwDdQadLRgqVAQd6UvYI53hNfdYdYFsvNSz1EJJ2h94wiF3Dl9UTSUoVFzCnIotAzIVcG0oZ1qNj7IyegmonVnTjvGIt5ZE_J-d5UvvqU83VWptY-Hx31fcKFxdEjGT-MCtLjgjaYZb8ye_CNzoc2eHwfmJCOysI4dA/s1053/800px-Jack_London_young.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1053" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9pxYPAxvzCITaTDn8RyluBjVcwDdQadLRgqVAQd6UvYI53hNfdYdYFsvNSz1EJJ2h94wiF3Dl9UTSUoVFzCnIotAzIVcG0oZ1qNj7IyegmonVnTjvGIt5ZE_J-d5UvvqU83VWptY-Hx31fcKFxdEjGT-MCtLjgjaYZb8ye_CNzoc2eHwfmJCOysI4dA/s320/800px-Jack_London_young.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very young Jack London.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Then
he saw above him the face of Oona, and felt about him the arms of Oona; and for
a moment the sun steadied and stood still, and the great walls were upright and
moved not.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Thou
art a brave man, Negore,” he heard her say in his ear; “thou art my man,
Negore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">And
in that moment he lived all the life of gladness of which she had told him, and
the laughter and the song, and as the sun went out of the sky above him, as in
his old age, he knew the memory of her was sweet. And as even the
memories dimmed and died in the darkness that fell upon him, he knew in her
arms the fulfilment of all the ease and rest she had promised him. And as
black night wrapped around him, his head upon her breast, he felt a great peace
steal about him, and he was aware of the hush of many twilights and the mystery
of silence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Louis
Shalako <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stranger-Paris-Louis-Shalako-ebook/dp/B0C5FJMK3Z/ref=sr_1_2?qid=1705240529&refinements=p_27%3ALouis+Shalako&s=books&sr=1-2" target="_blank">has books and stories available from Amazon.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">See
his <a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako?i=187204-80" target="_blank">works on ArtPal.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Grab
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43239" target="_blank">a free ebook here.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">More
on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_London" target="_blank">Jack London.</a> (Wiki)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Thank
you for reading and listening, ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-84718855064019684632024-01-12T14:10:00.000-05:002024-01-12T14:10:01.138-05:00A Hitch In Space. Fritz Leiber.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0qiNVqUlPN9j7qqemfcyQH0pqXqbuElcUTz2m5GuKsmFjw5b5GONmXbwBnVj1g7uXOBHjMctjATBV8XfU_uqsREHqwJzWZ0N0z13-tAgF09T8_CE8VNRBdIHVhslwf7zPiuafrYTYmX3TMybdUFRBSoo72QzK5O-D17OaKm_mbOxOgvkBR0gKELOrz0/s602/images%20(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="509" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0qiNVqUlPN9j7qqemfcyQH0pqXqbuElcUTz2m5GuKsmFjw5b5GONmXbwBnVj1g7uXOBHjMctjATBV8XfU_uqsREHqwJzWZ0N0z13-tAgF09T8_CE8VNRBdIHVhslwf7zPiuafrYTYmX3TMybdUFRBSoo72QzK5O-D17OaKm_mbOxOgvkBR0gKELOrz0/w542-h640/images%20(3).jpg" width="542" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hmn. This guy's getting a bit weird...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Fritz Leiber</p><p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">A HITCH IN SPACE<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Worlds of Tomorrow, August 1963.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">My Space-partner was a good reliable
sidekick—but his partner was something else.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Once when I was doing a hitch with the Shaulan Space
Guard out Scorpio way, my partner Jeff Bogart developed just about the most
harmless psychosis you could imagine: he got himself an imaginary companion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the
imaginary companion turned out to be me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I’m a
pretty nice guy and so having two of me in the ship didn’t seem a particularly
bad idea. At first. In fact there’d be advantages of it, I thought. For
instance, Jeff liked to talk a weary lot ... and the imaginary Joe Hansen could
spell me listening to him, while I projected a book or just harkened to the
wheels going around in my own head against the faint patter of starlight on the
hull.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I met Jeff
first at a space-rodeo, oddly enough, but now the two of us were out on a
servicing check of the orbital beacons and relays and rescue depots of the five
planets of the Shaulan system. A completely routine job, its only drawback that
it was lengthy. Our ship was an ionic jeep that looked like a fancy fountain
pen, but was very roomy for three men—one of them imaginary.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I caught on to
Jeff’s little mania by overhearing him talking to me. I’d be coming back from
the head or stores or linear accelerator or my bunk, and I’d hear him yakking
at me. It embarrassed me the first time, how to go back into the cabin when the
other me was there. But I just swam in, and without any transition-strain at
all that I could observe Jeff looked around at me, smiling sort of glaze-eyed,
and said warmly, “Joe. My buddy Joe. Am I glad they paired us.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Jeff had a
major fault, as opposed to a species of nuttiness, it was that he was strictly
a speak-only-good, positive-thinking guy who always deferred to me. Even
idolized me, if you can imagine that. He’d give me such fulsome praise I’d be
irked ten times an orbit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another thing
that helped me catch on was that he always called the other me Joseph.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">At first I thought the whole thing might be a gag, or
maybe a deliberate way of letting off steam against me without violating his
always-a-sweet-guy code—like happy husbands cursing in the bathroom—but then
came the scrambled eggs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d slept late
and when I squinted into the cabin there was Jeff hovering over a plate of
yellow fluff and shaking his finger at my empty seat and saying, “Dammit,
Joseph, eat your scrambled eggs, I cooked ’em ’specially for you,” and when he
crawfished out toward the galley a couple seconds later he was saying, “Now you
start on those eggs, Joseph, before I get back.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought for
a bit and then I slid into my place and polished them off.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he
floated in with the coffee he gave me another of those glaze-eyed God-fearing
looks—but just a mite disappointed, I thought—and said, “Dammit, Joe, you’re
perfect! You always clean your plate.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently
when I was there, Joseph just didn’t exist for Jeff. And vice versa. It was
sort of eerie, especially with the hum of space in my ears like a seashell and
nobody else for five million miles.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beginning with
the scrambled eggs, I discovered that Jeff didn’t exactly idolize Joseph—or
even take with him the attitude of “My buddy can do no wrong,” like he did with
me. I overheard him criticizing Joseph. Reasonably at first; then I heard him
chewing him out—next bullying him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It made me
wistful, that last, thinking how good it would feel to be full-bloodedly cursed
to my face once in a while instead of all the sweetness and light. And right
there I got the idea for some amateur therapy, Shaula-Deva help me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I waited for a
moment when we were both relaxed and then I said, “Jeff, the trouble with you
is you’re too nice. You ought to criticize things more. For a starter,
criticize me. Tell me my faults. Go ahead.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He flushed a
little and said, “Dammit, Joe, how can I? You’re perfect!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No man is
perfect, Jeff,” I told him solemnly, feeling pretty foolish.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But you’re my
buddy I always can trust,” he protested, squirming a bit. “I wish you wouldn’t
talk this way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">“Jeff, you can’t trust anybody too far,” I said. “Even
good guys can do bad things. When I was a boy there was a kid named Harry I
practically worshipped. We lived on a pioneer world of Fomalhaut that had good
snow, and we’d hitch rides with our sleds off little airscrew planes taking
off. We’d each have a long white line on his sled and loop it beforehand around
the plane’s tail-gear and back to the sled. Then we’d hide. As soon as the
pilot got aboard we’d jump on our sleds and each grab the free end of his line
and have one comet of a ride, until the plane took off. Then we’d quick let go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, one
frosty morning I let go and nothing happened, except I started to rise. Harry
had tied the free end of my line tight to my sled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I could have
just rolled off, I suppose, but I didn’t want to lose my sled or my line
either. Luckily I had a sheath knife handy and I used it. I even made a
whizeroo of a landing. But ever afterwards my feelings toward Harry—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Stop it,
please, Joe!” Jeff interrupted, very red in the face and shaking a little.
“That boy Harry was utterly evil. And I don’t want to hear any more about this,
or anything like it, ever again. Understand?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him
sure I did. Heck, I could see I’d gone the wrong way about it. I even begged his
pardon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that I
just sweated it out. But I found I couldn’t spend much time on books or my
thoughts, I’d keep listening for what Jeff was saying to Joseph. And sometimes
when he’d pause for Joseph’s reply I’d catch myself waiting for the imaginary
me to make one. So I took to staying in the same cabin as Jeff as much as I
could.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That seemed to
make him uncomfortable after a while, though he pretended to glory in it. He’d
ask me questions like, “Tell me about life, Joe. So I’ll know how to handle
myself if we’re ever parted.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the
weariest things come to an end, even duty orbits around Shaula. And so the time
came when we were servicing our last beacon—outside the planet Shaula-by, it
was. Next step would be a fast interplanetary orbit for Base at Shaula-near.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was out
working—on a safety line of course, but suit-jetting around more than I needed
to, just for the pure joy of it, so that my suit tank was almost dry. I’d
switched my suit radio off for a bit, because, working in space, Jeff had taken
to just gabbling to me nervously all the time—maybe because he figured there
couldn’t be room for Joseph with him in his suit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRSO3MRbdMLYiQ3elAYoCC2SMzqlC4h_tLnqbw2XZE3B4uLpFirrSGIsGME9ekan1hr5mHKY2wzhOqjwIg7Ctegx6tMXK1eTuRpX9qnYzrTjb8FSwDzl5WhWbuYVhYKW4SFnZz49R1wUK-IRRbFwCu2tDN0W38sY0SO0xvTfT8LN7uywT31eoUGnRsww/s752/MV5BMzI0ODlhMGEtYTM2Mi00NmIwLTliZjQtYzg1MGU1Y2M5YTdjXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzk3NTUwOQ@@._V1_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="564" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRSO3MRbdMLYiQ3elAYoCC2SMzqlC4h_tLnqbw2XZE3B4uLpFirrSGIsGME9ekan1hr5mHKY2wzhOqjwIg7Ctegx6tMXK1eTuRpX9qnYzrTjb8FSwDzl5WhWbuYVhYKW4SFnZz49R1wUK-IRRbFwCu2tDN0W38sY0SO0xvTfT8LN7uywT31eoUGnRsww/w480-h640/MV5BMzI0ODlhMGEtYTM2Mi00NmIwLTliZjQtYzg1MGU1Y2M5YTdjXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzk3NTUwOQ@@._V1_.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...just scrambling eggs for a buddy...</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finished up
and paused for a last look at the ship. She was sweetly slim from her conical
living quarters to the taper-tail of her ionic jet, but she had more junk on
her than an amateur asteroid prospector hangs on his suit the first time out.
Every duty orbit, fifty scientists come with permission from the Commandant to
hang some automatic research gadget on the hull. The craziest one this time was
a huge flattened band of gold-plated aluminum, little more than foil-thick,
attached crosswise just in front of the tail and sticking out twenty feet on
each side. I don’t know what it was there for—maybe to measure the effects of
space on a Moebius strip—but it looked like a wedding ring that had been
stepped on. So Jeff and I called it Trompled Love.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in spite
of the junk, the ship looked mighty sweet against the saffron steppes and
baby-blue seas of Shaula-by with Shaula herself, old Lambda Scorpii, flaming
warm and wildly beyond, and with “United States” standing out big as life on
the ship’s living quarters. United States of Shaula, of course.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I was almost dreaming out there, thinking how it
hadn’t been such a terrible duty after all, when I saw the ship begin to slide
past Shaula.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poking out of
her tail, ghostlier than the flame over a cafe royale, was the evil blue glow
of her jet. In an instant I’d guessed exactly what had happened and was beating
myself on the head for not having anticipated it. Joseph had swum into the
cabin right after Jeff. And Jeff had yelled at him. “It’s about time, you lazy
lunkhead! Everything secure? Okay, I’m switching on the beam!” And I’d probably
brought the whole thing about by telling him that damfool sled story—and then
sticking to him so close he just had to get rid of me, so as to be with Joseph.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile the
ship was gathering speed in her sneaky way and the wavy safety line between me
and the airlock was starting to straighten.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As you know,
an ionic jet’s only good space-to-space. It’s not for heavy-G work; ours could
deliver only one-half G at max and was doing less than one-quarter now. Which
meant the ship was starting off slower than most ground cars.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the beam
would fire for hours, building up to a terminal velocity of fifteen miles a
second and carrying the ship far, far away from lonely Joe Hansen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except that we
were tied together, of course.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was very
grateful then for the weeks I’d practiced space-roping, though I’d never won
any prizes with it, because without thinking I started to whip my line very
carefully. And on the third try, just as it was getting pretty straight, I
managed to settle it in a notch in one outside end of Trompled Love. After that
I took up strain on the line as gradually as I could, letting it friction
through my gloves for as long as I could before putting all my mass on
it—because although one-quarter G isn’t much, it piles up in a few seconds to
quite a jerk. I spread that jerk into several little ones.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, the last
jerk came and the line didn’t part and Trompled Love didn’t crumple much,
though the Shaula-light showed me several very nasty-looking wrinkles in it.
And there I was trailing along after the ship, though out to one side, and
feeling about as much strain on the line as if I were hanging from a cliff on
the moon, and knowing I was going about five feet a second faster every second.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">My idea wanting to be out to the side (and bless my
impulses for realizing it was the one important thing!) was to keep my line and
myself out of the beam. An ionic jet doesn’t look hot from the side. But from
straight on it’s a lot brighter than an arc light—it’s almost as tight as a
laser beam—and I didn’t want to think about what it would do to me, even
trailing as I was a hundred yards aft.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though of
course long before it had ruined me, it would have disintegrated my line.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My being out
to the side was putting the ship off balance on its jet and presumably throwing
its course toward base and Shaula-near little by little into error. But that
was the least of my worries, believe me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought for
a bit and remembered I could talk to Jeff over my suit radio. I decided to try
it, not without misgivings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tongued it
on and said, “Jeff. Oh, Jeff. I’m out here. You forgot me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going to
say some more, but just then he broke in, angry and so loud it made my helmet
ring, with, “Joseph! Did you hear anything then?” A pause, then, “Well, clean
the wax out of your ears, stupid, because I did! I think we got an enemy out
there!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another and
longer pause, while my blood curdled a bit thicker, then, “Well, okay, Joseph,
I’ll go along with you this time. But if I hear the enemy once more, I’m going
to suit up and take a rifle and sit in the airlock door until I’ve potted him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tongued the
radio off quick, fearful I’d sneeze or something. I had only one faint
consolation: Joseph seemed to be a bit on my side, or maybe he was just lazy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnBoADoMBYQaC6xyOyskSqKduUMBiEng3y9D1wly58HfpWGx81_s1A22h-JjVKZQFZKph0C-2H-moHLCq9r0VsgBfIU8HfK1He462FjGDorGPOFXtQnnvdYBGi2_h2XzuP6ix4HWaZjOioFieSQZNBMWS5-0Dj2FCzrskVM_FtdOJhrzYNjNU4z-XtWI/s3000/688379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1688" data-original-width="3000" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnBoADoMBYQaC6xyOyskSqKduUMBiEng3y9D1wly58HfpWGx81_s1A22h-JjVKZQFZKph0C-2H-moHLCq9r0VsgBfIU8HfK1He462FjGDorGPOFXtQnnvdYBGi2_h2XzuP6ix4HWaZjOioFieSQZNBMWS5-0Dj2FCzrskVM_FtdOJhrzYNjNU4z-XtWI/w640-h360/688379.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The good ship Lollipop.</i></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought some
more, a mite frantic-like now, and after a while I said to myself, Been
going five minutes now, so I’m doing about a quarter of a mile a second—that’s
fifteen miles a minute, wow!—but out here velocities are purely relative. My
suit does a little better than a quarter G full on. Okay. I’ll jet to the ship.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sooner said
than acted on—I was beginning to rely too much on impulse now. The suit jet
killed my false weight at once and I was off, mighty careful to aim myself
along my line or a little outside it, so as not to wander over into the beam.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty soon
the tail and Trompled Love were getting noticeably bigger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then a lot
bigger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then my suit
fuel ran out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">I’d built up enough velocity so that I was still
gaining on the ship for a few seconds. In fact, I almost made it. My gauntlet
was about to close on Trompled Love when the ship started slowly to pull away.
Oh, it was frustrating!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remembered
then what I should have a lot earlier, and grabbed for the ship-end of my line
so as not to lose the distance I’d gained—and in my haste I knocked it away
from me. The only good thing was that I didn’t knock it out of the notch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I was
losing space to the ship faster and faster. Yet all I could do was reel in the
me-end of the line as fast as I could. Suddenly the whole line straightened and
gave me a bigger jerk than I’d intended. I could see Trompled Love crumple a
little. And I was swinging just a bit, like a pendulum.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used a
glove-friction to spread the rest of the jerk, but still I was at the end of my
line and Trompled Love had crumpled a bit more before I was coasting along with
the ship again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My side of
Trompled Love was bent back maybe twenty degrees. The eye of the beam shone at
me from the tail like a pale blue moon. For quite a while it brightened and
dimmed as I tick-tock swung.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile I
was beating my skull for not having thought earlier of the obvious
slow-but-safe way of doing it, instead of that lunatic suit-jetting. I once
heard a psychologist say we’re mental slaves to power-machinery and I guess he had
something.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clearly all I
had to do was climb hand-over-hand up the line to the ship. At moon gravity
that would be easy. If I should get tired I only had to clamp on and rest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I waited
for my emotions to settle a bit, and then I reached along the line and gave a
smooth, medium-strength heave.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe there is
something to ESP—at least in a devilish sort of way—because I picked the exact
moment when Jeff decided to feed the beam more juice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
a big jerk and I saw Trompled Love crumple a lot, so that it was
pointing more than forty-five degrees aft.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now there was
a steady pull on the line like I was hanging from a cliff on Mars. And the eye
of the beam was a blue moon not so pale—in fact more like a sizzling blue sun
seen through a light fog.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that I
just didn’t have the heart to try the climb again. Once I started to draw
myself up, very cautious, but on the first handhold I seemed to feel along the
line Trompled Love crumpling some more and I quit for good.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured that
at this boost Jeff would be up to proper speed for Shaula-near in less than two
hours. Well, I had suit-oxy and refrigeration for longer than that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course if
Jeff decided not to cut the beam on schedule, maybe with the idea of eloping
with Joseph to the next solar system—well, I’d discover then whether suit-oxy
running out would stimulate me to try the climb again alongside the beam.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Or I could
wait until he got her up near the speed of light, when by the General Theory of
Relativity the line ought to be shortened enough so that I could hop aboard if
I were sudden enough about it.... No, Joe Hansen, you quit that, I told
myself, you don’t want to die with the gears in your head all stripped.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking about
the beam got me wondering exactly how close I was to it. I unshipped my
suit-antenna and pulled it out to full length—about eight feet—and fished
around with it in the direction of the beam.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing seemed
to happen to it. It didn’t glow or anything; but I suddenly got a little
electric shock, and when I drew it back I could see three inches of the tip
were gone and the next couple inches were pitted. So much for curiosity.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9KSwCLf7JRCUhSOyH0aZELvIagBMAMWF0cwMLa8R0P9a25M9uBCuzw1WBLRkKUas1DQypVXaScPbe7i_d2tsgp6SkPj0UOMm9r0A_geVnfGZp33TKK7d1mvcFC0acjfYMkgROvn7BmqfmrT6WL7QQiGfMFGAsEuP3XUZ_O6XgPmJYXbNcTKOJS6g-tg/s1333/merlin_135847308_098289a6-90ee-461b-88e2-20920469f96a-superJumbo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1333" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9KSwCLf7JRCUhSOyH0aZELvIagBMAMWF0cwMLa8R0P9a25M9uBCuzw1WBLRkKUas1DQypVXaScPbe7i_d2tsgp6SkPj0UOMm9r0A_geVnfGZp33TKK7d1mvcFC0acjfYMkgROvn7BmqfmrT6WL7QQiGfMFGAsEuP3XUZ_O6XgPmJYXbNcTKOJS6g-tg/w400-h300/merlin_135847308_098289a6-90ee-461b-88e2-20920469f96a-superJumbo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next I
reattached the antenna to my suit—which turned out to be a lot more troublesome
job than unshipping it—and tongued on the radio with the idea of listening in
on Jeff.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Right away I heard him say, “Wake up, Joseph! I’m
going to tell you your faults again. I got a new way of cataloguing
them—chronologically. Begin with childhood. You hitched sled-rides on
airplanes. That was bad, Joseph, that was against the law. If the man had
caught you doing it, if he’d seen you whizzing along there back of him, he’d
have had every right to shoot you down in cold blood. Life is hard, Joseph,
life is merciless....”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right then I
felt a tickle in my throat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried quick
to shut off the radio, but it is remarkably difficult to tongue anything when
you have a cough coming. It came out finally in a series of squeaky glubs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Snap to,
Joseph, and listen hard,” I heard Jeff say. “It’s started again. Animal noises
this time. You know if they make spacesuits for black panthers, Joseph?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tongued off
the radio quick, before the follow-up cough came.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t have
anything left to do now but think. So I thought about Jeff—how there seemed to
be one Jeff who hated my guts and another Jeff who idolized me and another Jeff
sneaking around in a jungle of sabertooth tigers and ... heck, there was
probably a good twenty Jeffs sitting around inside his skull, some in light,
some in darkness, but all of them watching each other and arguing together all
the time. It was an odd way to think of a personality—a sort of
perpetual Kaffeeklatsch—but it had its points. Maybe some of the little
guys weren’t Jeffs at all, but his father and mother and a caveman ancestor or
two and maybe some great-great-grandchild butting in now and then from the
future....<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I saw
that speculation was getting out of hand so, taking a tip from Jeff, I began to
count my own sins.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took quite
a while. Some of them were pretty interesting reading, almost enough to take my
mind off my predicament, but I tired of it finally.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I began
to count the stars.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was really
the longest two hours plus I ever spent, except maybe the time my first big
girl disappeared. But I don’t know. The experiences are hard to compare.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was about
halfway through the stars when I went weightless. For an awful instant I
thought the line had parted at last, but then I looked toward the ship and saw
the bright little moon was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Right away I gave a couple of tugs on the line and
began to close slowly with the tail. No trouble at all—actually my only
difficulty was resisting the temptation to build up more momentum, which would
have resulted in a crash landing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I softed-in on
Trompled Love okay, except there was a big spark. The beam must have charged me
good. Then I worked my way to the true hull. After that there were handholds.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I got
to a porthole in the living quarters, and I looked in, and there was Jeff
jawing away at my empty seat. I put my helmet against the hull and very faintly
I heard him say, “Joseph, I’m still worried about the enemy. I keep thinking I
hear him or it. I’m going to make us some coffee, so we’ll stay real alert. You
break out the guns.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t suppose
anyone ever moved quite so quietly and so quickly in a spacesuit as I
did then. I got in the airlock, I got her up to pressure, I got unsuited—and
all in less than five minutes, I’m sure. Maybe less than four.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPpp-5CQM_RBYHhzMCR3Hs0DTJLNjo4k6o0cWvTgdHjcGB6_s8gwSad7r0tEpSX0SQY4PjH8om6ogv_GFz-g97U7Y48phNFdsYLw_xcZLJodXWAyhsE2i0A8iW0iVQVzCtxVEQd1fYwmyS_5RfVIdYoSOxxKQI9axY6ux3VW_NwOYrRJY0n83pgU0qbg/s591/Fritz_Leiber_at_A_Change_of_Hobbit,_26_February_1977_(cropped).jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="591" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPpp-5CQM_RBYHhzMCR3Hs0DTJLNjo4k6o0cWvTgdHjcGB6_s8gwSad7r0tEpSX0SQY4PjH8om6ogv_GFz-g97U7Y48phNFdsYLw_xcZLJodXWAyhsE2i0A8iW0iVQVzCtxVEQd1fYwmyS_5RfVIdYoSOxxKQI9axY6ux3VW_NwOYrRJY0n83pgU0qbg/s320/Fritz_Leiber_at_A_Change_of_Hobbit,_26_February_1977_(cropped).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fritz Leiber.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swam to the
cabin. It was empty. I slid into my seat just as Jeff floated in with the
coffee.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went real
pale when he spotted me. I saw there might be some trouble this time with the
Joseph-Joe transition. But I knew the only way to play it was real cool. I
nested there in my seat as if I hadn’t a worry or urge in the world—though my
nerves and throat were just screaming for a squirt of that coffee.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Joe!” he
squeaked at last. “Migod, you gave me an awful scare. I thought you’d done a
bunk, I thought, you’d spaced yourself, I kept picturing you outside the ship.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why no,
Jeff,” I answered quietly. “One way or another, I’ve been in this seat ever
since take-off.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His brow
wrinkled as he thought about that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked at
the board and noticed that our terminal trip-velocity read fifteen miles a
second. My, my.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally Jeff
said, “That’s right, you have.” And then, just a shade unhappily, “I might have
known. You always tell the truth, Joe—you’re perfect.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Louis Shalako has </span><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Louis%20Shalako%22;jsessionid=1DFAD515FFC703246E1C5209E711AF4C.prodny_store01-atgap17?Ntk=P_key_Contributor_List&Ns=P_Sales_Rank&Ntx=mode+matchall" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">books and stories on Barnes &
Noble.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">See <a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" target="_blank">his stuff on ArtPal.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Grab <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAECiFW5V3M" target="_blank">a free audiobook here.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">More <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fritz_Leiber" target="_blank">on Fritz Lieber.</a> <i>(Wiki)</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Thank you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-27265336383287444122024-01-11T14:35:00.000-05:002024-01-11T14:35:42.522-05:00Bulldog. Max Brand.<p> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8q4VrQm8j4LQIXI1FSQMhnOvOfhl3yuwuIq1Z0xbaj0kaXPx3xSK8XoFyjynPxNIpTiS1Hj-RKHVr471-w3fJh5oE4J8wHqiDVS1l_hooNu6Mz7Utmlypjs8kkDoo94pu9zRJJT10Fxpd8RWC-Zbs4vNFfkPg8LkjnDvzyyVe8MXqQWhFCCHNx3rbMuc/s800/dogs-fighting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8q4VrQm8j4LQIXI1FSQMhnOvOfhl3yuwuIq1Z0xbaj0kaXPx3xSK8XoFyjynPxNIpTiS1Hj-RKHVr471-w3fJh5oE4J8wHqiDVS1l_hooNu6Mz7Utmlypjs8kkDoo94pu9zRJJT10Fxpd8RWC-Zbs4vNFfkPg8LkjnDvzyyVe8MXqQWhFCCHNx3rbMuc/w640-h480/dogs-fighting.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Arf. Arf." < growls ></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Max Brand</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Shut
up your yapping,” Peter Zinn greeted his wife. “Shut up and take care of this
pup. He’s my kind of dog.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Zinn came home from prison, no one was
at the station to meet him except the constable, Tom Frejus, who laid a hand on
his shoulder and said: “Now, Zinn, let this here be a lesson to you. Give me a
chance to treat you white. I ain’t going to hound you. Just remember that
because you’re stronger than other folks you ain’t got any reason to beat them
up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zinn looked down upon him from a height.
Every day of the year during which he had swung his sledge hammer to break
rocks for the State roads, he had told himself that one good purpose was
served: his muscles grew harder, the fat dropped from his waist and shoulders, the
iron square of his chin thrust out as in his youth, and when he came back to
town he would use that strength to wreak upon the constable his old hate. For
manifestly Tom Frejus was his archenemy. When he first came to Sioux Crossing
and fought the three men in Joe Riley’s saloon—oh, famous and happy
night!—Constable Frejus gave him a warning. When he fought the Gandil brothers
and beat them both senseless, Frejus arrested him. When his old horse, Fidgety,
balked in the back lot and Zinn tore a rail from the fence in lieu of a club,
Tom Frejus arrested him for cruelty to dumb beasts. This was a crowning
torment, for, as Zinn told the judge, he’d bought that old skate with good
money and he had a right to do what he wanted with it. But the judge, as always,
agreed with Tom Frejus. These incidents were only items in a long list which
culminated when Zinn drank deep of bootleg whisky and then beat up the
constable himself. The constable, at the trial, pleaded for clemency on
account, he said, of Zinn’s wife and three children; but Zinn knew, of course,
that Frejus wanted him back only that the old persecution might begin. On this
day, therefore the ex-convict, in pure excess of rage, smiled down on the
constable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Keep out of my way, Frejus,” he said, “and
you’ll keep a whole skin. But some day I’ll get you alone, and then I’ll bust
you in two—like this!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made an eloquent gesture; then he strode
off up the street. As the sawmill had just closed, a crowd of returning workers
swarmed on the sidewalks, and Zinn took off his cap so that they could see his
cropped head. In his heart of hearts he hoped that some one would jibe, but the
crowd split away before him and passed with cautiously averted eyes. Most of
them were big, rough fellows and their fear was pleasant balm for his savage
heart. He went on with his hands a little tensed to feel the strength of his
arms.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The dusk was closing early on this autumn day
with a chill whirl of snowflakes borne on a wind that had been iced in crossing
the heads of the white mountains, but Zinn did not feel the cold. He looked up
to the black ranks of the pine forest which climbed the sides of Sandoval
Mountain, scattering toward the top and pausing where the sheeted masses of
snow began. Life was like that—a struggle, an eternal fight, but never a
victory on the mountaintop which all the world could see and admire. When the
judge sentenced him he said: “If you lived in the days of armor, you might have
been a hero, Zinn; but in these times you are a waster and an enemy of society.”
He had grasped dimly at the meaning of this. Through his life he had always
aimed at something which would set him apart from and above his fellows; now,
at the age of forty, he felt in his hands an undiminished authority of might,
but still those hands had not given him the victory. If he beat and routed four
men in a huge conflict, society, instead of applauding, raised the club of the
law and struck him down. It had always done so, but, though the majority voted
against him, his tigerish spirit groped after and clung to this truth: to be
strong is to be glorious!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reached the hilltop and looked down to his
home in the hollow. A vague wonder and sorrow came upon him to find that all
had been held together in spite of his absence. There was even a new coat of
paint upon the woodshed and a hedge of young firs was growing neatly around the
front yard. In fact, the homestead seemed to be prospering as though his
strength were not needed! He digested this reflection with an oath and looked
sullenly about him. On the corner a little white dog watched him with lowered
ears and a tail curved under its belly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get out, cur!” snarled Zinn. He picked up a
rock and threw it with such good aim that it missed the dog by a mere inch or
two, but the puppy merely pricked its ears and straightened its tail.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s silly with the cold,” said Zinn
himself, chuckling. “This time I’ll smear it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pried from the roadway a stone of three or
four pounds, took good aim, and hurled it as lightly as a pebble flies from the
sling. Too late the white dog leaped to the side, for the flying missile caught
it a glancing blow that tumbled it over and over. Zinn, muttering with
pleasure, scooped up another stone, but when he raised it this time the stone
fell from his hand, so great was his surprise. The white dog, with a line of
red along its side where a ragged edge of the stone had torn the skin, had
gained its feet and now was driving silently straight at the big man. Indeed,
Zinn had barely time to aim a kick at the little brute, which it dodged as a
rabbit turns from the jaws of the hound. Then two rows of small, sharp teeth
pierced his trousers and sank into the flesh of his leg. He uttered a yell of
surprise rather than pain. He kicked the swaying, tugging creature, but still
it clung, working the puppy teeth deeper with intent devotion. He picked up the
fallen stone and brought it down heavily with a blow that laid open the skull
and brought a gush of blood, but though the body of the little savage grew
limp, the jaws were locked. He had to pry them apart with all his strength.
Then he swung the loose, senseless body into the air by the hind legs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What stopped him he could not tell. Most of
all it was the stabbing pain in his leg and the marvel that so small a dog could
have dared so much. But at last he tucked it under his arm, regardless of the
blood that trickled over his coat. He went down the hill, kicked open the front
door, and threw down his burden. Mrs. Zinn was coming from the kitchen with a
shrill cry that sounded more like fear than like a welcome to Zinn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Peter! Peter!” she cried at him, clasping
her hands together and staring.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Shut up your yapping,” said Peter Zinn.
“Shut up and take care of this pup. He’s my kind of a dog.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His three sons wedged into the doorway and
gaped at him with round eyes and white faces.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look here,” he said, pointing to his
bleeding leg. “That damned pup done that. That’s the way I want you kids to
grow up. Fight anything. Fight a buzz saw. You don’t need to go to no school
for lessons. You can foller after Blondy, there.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Blondy was christened; so he was given a
home. Mrs. Zinn, who had been a trained nurse in her youth, nevertheless stood
by with moans of sympathy while her husband took the necessary stitches in the
head of Blondy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Keep still, fool,” said Mr. Zinn. “Look at
Blondy. He ain’t even whining. Pain don’t hurt nothing. Pain is the making of a
dog—or a man! Look at there—if he ain’t licking my hand! He knows his master!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A horse kicked old Joe Harkness the next day,
and Peter Zinn took charge of the blacksmith shop. He was greatly changed by
his stay in the penitentiary, so that superficial observers in the town of
Sioux Crossing declared that he had been reformed by punishment, inasmuch as he
no longer blustered or hunted fights in the streets of the village. He attended
to his work, and as everyone admitted that no farrier in the country could fit
horseshoes better, or do a better job at welding, when Joe Harkness returned to
his shop he kept Zinn as a partner. Neither did Peter Zinn waste time or money
on bootleg whisky, but in spite of these new and manifold virtues some of the
very observant declared that there was more to be feared from the silent and
settled ferocity of his manner than from the boisterous ways which had been his
in other days. Constable Tom Frejus was among the latter. And it was noted that
he practiced half an hour every day with his revolver in the back of his lot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJsO1HfeXHHGyhon9B584jx5Ar-M08Je5tlgEcrcwmCi5q-fY5uF7keECaCSvpD2tzJhaVp9gq5PHD3LJ385QvwzYjgg_IrW7lhCyZcbyxiGU8BlPW_GHAcKvyAxNO17Z0t3Vfi6Fv8kxB90kplJMuZJek0ZYLeU9QsfLslzyKzjIncPiy5622m415EqE/s1002/Screenshot%202024-01-11%20141922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="1002" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJsO1HfeXHHGyhon9B584jx5Ar-M08Je5tlgEcrcwmCi5q-fY5uF7keECaCSvpD2tzJhaVp9gq5PHD3LJ385QvwzYjgg_IrW7lhCyZcbyxiGU8BlPW_GHAcKvyAxNO17Z0t3Vfi6Fv8kxB90kplJMuZJek0ZYLeU9QsfLslzyKzjIncPiy5622m415EqE/w640-h414/Screenshot%202024-01-11%20141922.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...a reformed man...</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">So
Peter Zinn took charge of the blacksmith shop, and the town declared him
reformed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blondy, in the meantime, stepped into
maturity in a few swift months. On his fore and hind quarters the big ropy
muscles thrust out. His neck grew thicker and more arched, and in his dark
brown eyes there appeared a wistful look of eagerness which never left him
saving when Peter Zinn was near. The rest of the family he tolerated, but did
not love. It was in vain that Mrs. Zinn, eager to please a husband whose
transformation had filled her with wonder and with awe, lavished attentions
upon Blondy and fed him with dainties twice a day. It was in vain that the
three boys petted and fondled and talked kindly to Blondy. He endured these
demonstrations, but did not return them. But when five o’clock came in the
evening of the day, Blondy went out to the gate of the front yard and stood
there like a white statue until a certain heavy step sounded on the wooden
sidewalk up the hill. That noise changed Blondy into an ecstasy of impatience,
and when the big man came through the gate, Blondy raced and leaped about him
with such a muffled whine of joy, coming from such deeps of his heart, that his
whole body trembled. At meals Blondy lay across the feet of the master. At
night he curled into a warm circle at the foot of the bed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">There was only one trouble with Blondy. When
people asked: “What sort of a dog is that?” Peter Zinn could never answer
anything except: “A hell of a good fighting dog; you can lay to that.” It was a
stranger who finally gave them information, a lumber merchant who had come to
Sioux Crossing to buy timber land. He stopped Peter Zinn on the street and
crouched on his heels to admire Blondy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A real white one,” said he. “As fine a bull
terrier as I ever saw. What does he weigh?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fifty-five pounds,” said Zinn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll give you five dollars for every pound
of him,” said the stranger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peter Zinn was silent.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Love him too much to part with him, eh?”
asked the other, smiling up at the big blacksmith.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Love him?” snorted Zinn. “Love a dog! I
ain’t no fool.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah?” said the stranger. “Then what’s your
price?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peter Zinn scratched his head; then he
scowled, for when he tried to translate Blondy into terms of money, his wits
failed him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s two hundred and seventy-five
dollars,” he said finally.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll make it three hundred, even. And, mind
you. my friend, this dog is useless for show purposes. You’ve let him fight too
much, and he’s covered with scars. No trimming can make that right ear
presentable. However, he’s a grand dog, and he’d be worth something in the stud.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zinn hardly heard the last of this. He was
considering that for three hundred dollars he could extend the blacksmith shop
by one-half and get a full partnership with Harkness, or else he could buy that
four-cylinder car which young Thompson wanted to sell. Yet even the showy
grandeur of an automobile would hardly serve. He did not love Blondy. Love was
an emotion which he scorned as beneath the dignity of a strong man. He had not
married his wife because of love, but because he was tired of eating in restaurants
and because other men had homes. The possession of an automobile would put the
stamp upon his new prosperity, but could an automobile welcome him home at
night or sleep at his feet?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I dunno,” he said at last. “I guess I ain’t
selling.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And he walked on. He did not feel more kindly
toward Blondy after this. In fact, he never mentioned the circumstance, even in
his home, but often when he felt the warmth of Blondy at his feet he was both
baffled and relieved.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime Blondy had been making
history in Sioux Crossing hardly less spectacular than that of Zinn. His idea
of play was a battle; his conception of a perfect day embraced the killing of
two or three dogs. Had he belonged to anyone other than Zinn, he would have
been shot before his career was well started, but his owner was such a known
man that guns were handled but not used when the white terror came near. It
could be said in his behalf that he was not aggressive and, unless urged on,
would not attack another. However, he was a most hearty and capable finisher of
a fight if one were started.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He first took the eye of the town through a
fracas with Bill Curry’s brindled bulldog, Mixer. Blondy was seven or eight
pounds short of his magnificent maturity when he encountered Mixer and touched
noses with him; then the bulldog reached for Blondy’s left foreleg, snapped his
teeth in the empty air, and the fun began. As Harkness afterward put it: “Mixer
was like thunder, but Blondy was lightning on wheels.” Blondy drifted around
the heavier dog for five minutes as illusive as a phantom. Then he slid in,
closed the long, pointed, fighting jaw on Mixer’s gullet, and was only pried
loose from a dead dog.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that the great Dane which had been
brought to town by Mr. Henry Justice, the mill owner, took the liberty of
snarling at the white dog and had his throat torn out in consequence. When Mr.
Justice applied to the law for redress, the judge told him frankly that he had
seen the fight and that he would sooner hang a man than hang Blondy. The rest
of the town was of the same opinion. They feared but respected the white
slayer, and it was pointed out that though he battled like a champion against
odds, yet when little Harry Garcia took Blondy by the tail and tried to tie a
knot in it, the great terrier merely pushed the little boy away with his
forepaws and then went on his way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhNDZFbco6E2lufJRKLRlUO7xRclohVzW-dhMD6QpkJTDfNNGYzUQSUWhmowCeISlaZk1jDpMoQqMCzOD9K-udwO0Jsr14qTgtclamIzSHSgMskeFq91_fnLnRwtSTfzn3mFjEfyHiSVpJBcI3PZu5cCnCRQLuqyfnium9YbSiZCQQhhlW1DHrPkhahg/s610/Screenshot%202024-01-11%20142018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="610" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhNDZFbco6E2lufJRKLRlUO7xRclohVzW-dhMD6QpkJTDfNNGYzUQSUWhmowCeISlaZk1jDpMoQqMCzOD9K-udwO0Jsr14qTgtclamIzSHSgMskeFq91_fnLnRwtSTfzn3mFjEfyHiSVpJBcI3PZu5cCnCRQLuqyfnium9YbSiZCQQhhlW1DHrPkhahg/w640-h562/Screenshot%202024-01-11%20142018.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dickheads with big dogs...</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">However, there was trouble in the air, and
Charlie Kitchen brought it to a head. In his excursions to the north he had
chanced upon a pack of hounds used indiscriminately to hunt and kill anything
that walked on four legs, from wolves to mountain lions and grizzly bears. The
leader of that pack was a hundred-and-fifty-pound monster—a cross between a
gigantic timber wolf and a wolfhound. Charlie could not borrow that dog, but
the owner himself made the trip to Sioux Crossing and brought Gray King, as the
dog was called, along with him. Up to that time Sioux Crossing felt that the
dog would never be born that could live fifteen minutes against Blondy, but
when the northerner arrived with a large roll of money and his dog, the town
looked at Gray King and pushed its money deeper into its pocket. For the King
looked like a fighting demon, and in fact was one. Only Peter Zinn had the
courage to bring out a hundred dollars and stake it on the result.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They met in the vacant lot next to the post
office where the fence was loaded with spectators, and in this ample arena it
was admitted that the wolf dog would have plenty of room to display all of his
agility. As a matter of fact, it was expected that he would slash the heart out
of Blondy in ten seconds. Slash Blondy he did, for there is nothing canine in
the world that can escape the flash of a wolf’s side rip. A wolf fights by
charges and retreats, coming in to slash with its great teeth and try to knock
the foe down with the blow of its shoulder. The Gray King cut Blondy twenty
times, but they were only glancing knife-edge strokes. They took the blood, but
not the heart from Blondy, who, in the meantime, was placed too low and solidly
on the ground to be knocked down. At the end of twenty minutes, as the Gray
King leaped in, Blondy side-stepped like a dancing boxer, then dipped in and up
after a fashion that Sioux Crossing knew of old, and set that long, punishing
jaw in the throat of the King. The latter rolled, writhed, and gnashed the air,
but fate had him by the windpipe, and in thirty seconds he was helpless. Then
Peter Zinn, as a special favor, took Blondy off.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Afterward the big man from the north came to
pay his bet, but Zinn, looking up from his task of dressing the terrier’s
wounds, flung the money back in the face of the stranger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dogs ain’t the only things that fight in
Sioux Crossing, he announced, and the stranger, pocketing his pride and his
money at the same time, led his staggering dog away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From that time forward Blondy was one of the
sights of the town—like Sandoval Mountain. He was pointed out constantly and
people said: “Good dog!” from a safe distance, but only Tom Frejus appreciated
the truth. He said: “What keeps Zinn from getting fight-hungry? Because he has
a dog that does the fighting for him. Every time Blondy sinks his teeth in the
hide of another dog, he helps to keep Zinn out of jail. But some day Zinn will
bust through!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was hardly a fair thing for the
constable to say, but the nerves of honest Tom Frejus were wearing thin. He
knew that sooner or later the blacksmith would attempt to execute his threat of
breaking him in two, and the suspense lay heavily upon Tom. He was still
practicing steadily with his guns; he was still as confident as ever of his own
courage and skill; but when he passed on the street the gloomy face of the
blacksmith, a chill of weakness entered his blood.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">That dread, perhaps, had sharpened the
perceptions of Frejus, for certainly he had looked into the truth, and while
Peter Zinn bided his time the career of Blondy was a fierce comfort to him. The
choicest morsel of enjoyment was delivered into his hands on a morning in
September, the very day after Frejus had gained lasting fame by capturing the
two Minster brothers, with enough robberies and murders to their credit to have
hanged a dozen men.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Zinns took breakfast in the kitchen this
Thursday, so that the warmth of the cookstove might fight the frost out of the
air, and Oliver, the oldest boy, announced from the window that old Gripper,
the constable’s dog, had come into the back yard. The blacksmith rose to make
sure. He saw Gripper, a big black-and-tan sheep dog, nosing the top of the
garbage can, and a grin of infinite satisfaction came to the face of Peter
Zinn. First he cautioned the family to remain discreetly indoors. Then he stole
out by the front way, came around to the rear of the tall fence which sealed
his back yard and closed and latched the gate. The trap was closed on Gripper,
after which Zinn returned to the house and lifted Blondy to the kitchen window.
The hair lifted along the back of Blondy’s neck; a growl rumbled in the deeps
of his powerful body. Yonder was his domain, his own yard, of which he knew
each inch, the smell of every weed and rock; yonder was the spot where he had
killed the stray chicken last July; near it was the tall, rank nettle, so
terrible to an over-inquisitive nose; and behold a strange dog pawing at the
very place where, only yesterday, he had buried a stout bone with rich store of
marrow hidden within!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, Peter, you ain’t—” began Mrs. Zinn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her husband silenced her with an ugly glance;
then he opened the back door and tossed Blondy into the yard. The bull terrier
landed lightly, and running. He turned into a white streak which crashed
against Gripper, turned the latter head over heels, and tumbled the shepherd
into a corner. Blondy wheeled to finish the good work, but Gripper lay at his
feet, abject upon his belly, with ears lowered, head pressed between his paws,
wagging a conciliatory tail and whining a confession of shame, fear, and
humility. Blondy leaped at him with a stiff-legged jump and snapped his teeth
at the very side of one of those drooped ears, but Gripper only melted a little
closer to the ground. For, a scant ten days before, he had seen that formidable
warrior, the Chippings’ greyhound, throttled by the white destroyer. What
chance would he have with his worn old teeth? He whined a sad petition through
them and closing his eye he offered up a prayer to the god who watches over all
good dogs: Never, never again would he rummage around a strange back yard if
only this one sin were forgiven!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The door of the house slammed open; a
terrible voice was shouting: Take him, Blondy! Kill him, Blondy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blondy, with a moan of battle joy, rushed in
again; his teeth clipped over the neck of Gripper; but the dreadful jaws did
not close. For, even in this extremity. Gripper only whined and wagged his tail
the harder. Blondy danced back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You damn quitter!” yelled Peter Zinn. “Tear
him to bits! Take him, Blondy!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tail of Blondy flipped from side to side
to show that he had heard. He was shuddering with awful eagerness, but Gripper
would not stir.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Coward! Coward! Coward!” snarled Blondy.
“Get up and fight. Here I am—half turned away—offering you the first hold—if
you only dare to take it!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never was anything said more plainly in dog
talk, saving the pitiful response of Gripper: “Here I lie; kill me if you will.
I am an old, old man with worn-down teeth and a broken heart!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blondy stopped snarling and trembling. He
came a bit nearer, and with his own touched the cold nose of Gripper. The old
dog opened one eye.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get up,” said Blondy very plainly. “But if
you dare to come near my buried bone again, I’ll murder you, you old rip!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And he lay down above that hidden treasure,
wrinkling his eyes and lolling out his tongue, which, as all dogs know, is a
sign that a little gambol and play will not be amiss.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dad!” cried Oliver Zinn. “He won’t touch old
Gripper. Is he sick?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come here!” thundered Zinn, and when Blondy
came he kicked the dog across the kitchen and sent him crashing into the wall.
“You yaller-hearted cur!” snarled Peter Zinn and strode out of the house to go
to work.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His fury did not abate until he had delivered
a shower of blows with a fourteen-pound sledge upon a bar of cold iron on his
anvil, wielding the ponderous hammer with one capacious hand. After that he was
able to try to think it out. It was very mysterious. For his own part, when he
was enraged it mattered not what crossed his path—old and young, weak and
strong, they were grist for the mill of his hands and he ground them small
indeed. But Blondy, apparently, followed a different philosophy and would not
harm those who were helpless.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Peter Zinn looked down to the foot which
had kicked Blondy across the room. He was tremendously unhappy. Just why, he
could not tell, but he fumbled at the mystery all that day and the next. Every
time he faced Blondy the terrier seemed to have forgotten that brutal attack,
but Peter Zinn was stabbed to the heart by a brand-new emotion—shame! And when
he met Blondy at the gate on the second evening, something made him stoop and
stroke the scarred head. It was the first caress. He looked up with a hasty
pang of guilt and turned a dark red when he saw his wife watching from the
window of the front bedroom. Yet when he went to sleep that night he felt that
Blondy and he had been drawn closer together.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiD3d5tbExeKe6yd9WhO5RZ42-9jQ-2rMNq7lYh8-Py65Wu0RHj7srZf7PBm_gArPnwBQRuVCk-wl2voDaWwSVpUl3q1fCgsjfQ1Pynmlex2_akskNi8W6IASuv-caKzqvx_oJpnB8eys4tcytFc1WrGF2WWoJzsC0Rn8aku1xcj-DiuAl_CUbZ-nHaDE/s1280/apicfc6in__82696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1098" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiD3d5tbExeKe6yd9WhO5RZ42-9jQ-2rMNq7lYh8-Py65Wu0RHj7srZf7PBm_gArPnwBQRuVCk-wl2voDaWwSVpUl3q1fCgsjfQ1Pynmlex2_akskNi8W6IASuv-caKzqvx_oJpnB8eys4tcytFc1WrGF2WWoJzsC0Rn8aku1xcj-DiuAl_CUbZ-nHaDE/w550-h640/apicfc6in__82696.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angie Dickenson as Mrs. Zinn, in a candid moment.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The very next day the crisis came. He was
finishing his lunch when guns began to bark and rattle—reports with a metallic
and clanging overtone which meant that rifles were in play; then a distant
shouting rolled confusedly upon them. Peter Zinn called Blondy to his heels and
went out to investigate.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first surmise that jumped into his mind
had been correct. Jeff and Lew Minster had broken from jail, been headed off in
their flight, and had taken refuge in the post office. There they held the
crowd at bay, Jeff taking the front of the building and Lew the rear. Vacant
lots surrounded the old frame shack since the general merchandise store burned
down three years before, and the rifles of two expert shots commanded this
no-man’s-land. It would be night before they could close on the building, but
when night came the Minster boys would have an excellent chance of breaking
away with darkness to cover them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’ll happen?” asked Tony Jeffreys of the
blacksmith as they sat at the corner of the hotel where they could survey the
whole scene.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I dunno,” said Peter Zinn, as he puffed at
his pipe. “I guess it’s up to the constable to show them that he’s a hero.
There he is now!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The constable had suddenly dashed out of the
door of Sam Donoghue’s house, directly facing the post office, followed by four
others, in the hope that he might take the defenders by surprise. But when men
defend their lives they are more watchful thar wolves in the hungry winter of
the mountains. A Winchester spoke from a window of the post office the moment
the forlorn hope appeared. The first bullet knocked the hat from the head of
Harry Daniels and stopped him in his tracks. The second shot went wide. The
third knocked the feet from under the constable and flattened him in the road.
This was more than enough The remnant of the party took to it heels and
regained shelter safely before the dust raised by his fall had cease curling
above the prostrate body of the constable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tony Jeffreys had risen to his feel repeating
over and over an oath of his childhood: “Jimminy whiskers! Jimminy whiskers!
Jimminy whiskers! They’ve killed poor Tom Frejus!” But Peter Zinn, holding the
trembling! eager body of Blondy between his hands, jutted forth his head an
grinned in a savage warmth of contentment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He’s overdue!” was all he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Tom Frejus was not dead. His leg had been
broken between the knee and hip, but he now reared himself upon both hands and
looked about him. He had covered the greater part of the road in his charge. It
would be easier to escape from fire by crawling close under the shelter of the
wall of the post office than by trying to get back to Donoghue’s house.
Accordingly, he began to drag himself forward. had not covered a yard when the
Winchester cracked again and Tom crumpled on his face, with both arms flung
around his head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Peter Zinn stood up with a gasp. Here was
something quite different. The constable was beaten, broken, and he reminded
Zinn of one thing only—old Gripper cowering against the fence with Blondy towering
above, ready to kill. Blondy had been merciful, but the marked man behind the
window was still intent on murder. His next bullet raised a white furrow of
dust near Frejus. Then a wild voice, made thin and high by the extremity of
fear and pain, came through the air and smote the heart Peter Zinn: “Help! For
God’s sake, mercy!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom Frejus was crushed indeed, and begging as
Gripper had begged. A hundred voices were shouting with horror but no man dared
venture out in the face of that cool-witted marksman. Then Peter Zinn knew the
thing which he had been born to do, for which he had been granted strength of
hand and courage of heart. He threw his long arms out before him as though he
were running to embrace a bodiless thing; great wordless voice swelled in his
breast and tore his throat; and he ran out toward the fallen constable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some woman’s voice was screaming: “Back! Go
back, Peter! Oh, God! Stop him! Stop him!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Minster had already marked his coming. The
rifle cracked, and a blow to the side of his head knocked Peter Zinn into utter
blackness. A searing pain and the hot flow of blood down his face brought back
his senses. He leaped to his feet again; he heard a yelp of joy as Blondy
danced away before him; then he drove past the writhing body of Tom Frejus. The
gun spoke again from the window; the red-hot torment stabbed him again, he knew
not where. Then he reached the door of the building and gave his shoulder to
it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a thing of paper that ripped open
before him. He plunged through into the room beyond, where he saw the long,
snarling face of the young Minster in the shadow of a corner with the gleam of
the leveled rifle barrel. He dodged as the gun spat fire, heard brief and
wicked humming beside his ear, then scooped up in one hand heavy chair and
flung it at the gunman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Minster went down with his legs and arms
sprawled in an odd position, and Peter Zinn gave him not so much as another
glance, for he knew that this part of his work was done.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lew! Lew!” cried a voice from the back of
the building. “What’s happened? What’s up? D’you want help?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ay!” shouted Peter Zinn. “He wants help. You
damn’ murderer, it’s me—Peter Zinn! Peter Zinn!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kicked open the door beyond and ran full
into the face of a lightning flash. It withered the strength from his body. He
slumped down on the floor with his loose shoulders resting against the wall. In
a twilight dimness he saw big Jeff Minster standing in a thin swirl of smoke
with the rifle muzzle twitching down and steadying for the finishing shot, but
a white streak leaped through the doorway, over his shoulder, and flew at
Minster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the sick eyes of Peter Zinn, the man
and the dog whirled into a blur of darkness streaked with white. There passed
two long, long seconds, thick with stampings, the wild curses of Jeff Minster,
the deep and humming growl of Blondy. Moreover, out of the distance a great
wave of voices was rising, sweeping toward the building.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The eyes of Peter cleared. He saw Blondy
fastened to the right leg of Jeff Minster above the knee. The rifle had fallen
to the floor and Jeff Minster, yelling with pain and rage, had caught out his
hunting knife, had raised it. He stabbed. But still Blondy clung. “No, no!”
screamed Peter Zinn.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Your damned dog first—then you!” gasped
Minster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The weakness struck Peter Zinn again. His
great head lolled back on his shoulders. “God,” he moaned, “gimme strength!
Don’t let Blondy die!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And strength poured hot upon his body, a
strength so great that he could reach his hand to the rifle on the floor,
gather it to him, put his finder on the trigger, and raise the muzzle slowly,
slowly as though it weighed a ton.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The knife had fallen again. It was a half
crimson dog that still clung to the slayer. Feet beat, voices boomed like a
waterfall in the next room. Then, as the knife rose again, Zinn pulled the
trigger, blind to his target, and as the thick darkness brushed across his
brain, saw something falling before him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seemed, after a time, to be walking down
an avenue of utter blackness. Then a thin star ray of light glistened before
him. It widened. A door of radiance opened through which he stepped and found
himself—lying between cool sheets with the binding grip of bandages holding him
in many places and wherever the bandages held, the deep, sickening ache of
wounds. Dr. Burney leaned above him, squinting as though Peter Zinn were far
away. Then Peter’s big hand caught him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Doc,” he said. “What’s happened? Gimme the
worst of it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you lie quiet, my friend,” said the
doctor, “and husband your strength, and fight for yourself as bravely as you
fought for Constable Frejus, you’ll pull through well enough. You have to pull
through, Zinn, because this town has a good deal to say that you ought to hear.
Besides—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hell, man,” said Peter Zinn, the savage, “I
mean the dog. I mean Blondy—how—what I mean to say is—”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYP9HR3N5zzYnn-DpGEC0MENIWwWFYhYKv-SPu21pD5gPlQnw2mrIw7RvwfltLAGdx0QEhq_0spLWLXc78iQis5XZB4J848G4O8XqnSI19DlW0s3o5_Ui4kyvfKKZ__NaEbRV7lHeEyNfAtjzqtFmcvzUxhR53sTwurH9OYuIXSiUy0loPh6mkLtxTABQ/s329/Maxbrand_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="157" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYP9HR3N5zzYnn-DpGEC0MENIWwWFYhYKv-SPu21pD5gPlQnw2mrIw7RvwfltLAGdx0QEhq_0spLWLXc78iQis5XZB4J848G4O8XqnSI19DlW0s3o5_Ui4kyvfKKZ__NaEbRV7lHeEyNfAtjzqtFmcvzUxhR53sTwurH9OYuIXSiUy0loPh6mkLtxTABQ/w191-h400/Maxbrand_001.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max Brand.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then a great foreknowledge came upon
Peter Zinn, His own life having been spared, fate had taken another in
exchange, and Blondy would never lie warm upon his feet again. He closed his
eyes and whispered huskily: “Say yes or no, Doc. Quick!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the doctor was in so little haste that he
turned away and walked to the door, where he spoke in a low voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He’s got to have help,” said Peter Zinn to
his own dark heart. “He’s got to have help to tell me how a growed-up man
killed a poor pup.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Footsteps entered. “The real work I’ve been
doing,” said the doctor, “hasn’t been with you. Look up, Zinn!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peter Zinn looked up, and over the edge of
the doctor’s arm he saw a long, narrow white head, with a pair of brown-black
eyes and a wistfully wrinkled forehead. Blondy, swathed in soft white linen,
was laid upon the bed and crept up closer until the cold point of his nose,
after his fashion, was hidden in the palm of the master’s hand. Now big Peter
beheld the doctor through a mist spangled with magnificent diamonds, and he saw
that Burney had found it necessary to turn his head away. He essayed speech
which twice failed, but at the third effort he managed to say in a voice strange
to himself: “Take it by and large, doc, it’s a damn good old world.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Transcriber’s
Note: This story appeared in the February 23, 1924 issue
of Collier’s magazine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/louisbertrandshalako" target="_blank">books and stories on Smashwords.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See
his </span><a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">stuff on ArtPal.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Here’s
a free audiobook, </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAECiFW5V3M" target="_blank">The Handbag’s Tale,</a></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> the short story that inspired The
Inspector Gilles Maintenon Series.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">More
on </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Brand" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">Max Brand. </a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">(Wiki)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-28490923355029773162024-01-08T13:44:00.000-05:002024-01-08T13:44:39.106-05:00The Leather Funnel. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="361" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif1Quj5rlCbTyd0E3Xg93ouQG0SnoU5aHU2FyacGMl8VGD7pBjmojHUrF9w6BrZjG6W6KplI1hja4W3Kp87jLyXs2ad3vwm5i-Yx4nK9NEmo2iwYaIUQwUGMac53zH5Ip0mTDZUD2oxxpL1RBbwg6xQfrNd4ujvGxYVee-NiOXoqGQA5X12vNCH_ABlP0/w514-h640/MV5BMTkwNjkzNzU1NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMDM2MjI2._V1_.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="514" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Did I ever tell you about my friend Lionel?"</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif1Quj5rlCbTyd0E3Xg93ouQG0SnoU5aHU2FyacGMl8VGD7pBjmojHUrF9w6BrZjG6W6KplI1hja4W3Kp87jLyXs2ad3vwm5i-Yx4nK9NEmo2iwYaIUQwUGMac53zH5Ip0mTDZUD2oxxpL1RBbwg6xQfrNd4ujvGxYVee-NiOXoqGQA5X12vNCH_ABlP0/s450/MV5BMTkwNjkzNzU1NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMDM2MjI2._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Arthur Conan Doyle</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The Leather Funnel.</span></b></div><p align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My friend, Lionel Dacre, lived in the Avenue de
Wagram, Paris. His house was that small one, with the iron railings and grass
plot in front of it, on the left-hand side as you pass down from the Arc de
Triomphe. I fancy that it had been there long before the avenue was
constructed, for the grey tiles were stained with lichens, and the walls were
mildewed and discoloured with age. It looked a small house from the street,
five windows in front, if I remember right, but it deepened into a single long
chamber at the back. It was here that Dacre had that singular library of occult
literature, and the fantastic curiosities which served as a hobby for himself,
and an amusement for his friends. A wealthy man of refined and eccentric
tastes, he had spent much of his life and fortune in gathering together what
was said to be a unique private collection of Talmudic, cabalistic, and magical
works, many of them of great rarity and value. His tastes leaned toward the
marvellous and the monstrous, and I have heard that his experiments in the
direction of the unknown have passed all the bounds of civilization and of
decorum. To his English friends he never alluded to such matters, and took the
tone of the student and virtuoso; but a Frenchman whose tastes were of the same
nature has assured me that the worst excesses of the black mass have been
perpetrated in that large and lofty hall, which is lined with the shelves of
his books, and the cases of his museum.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Dacre's appearance was enough to show that his deep
interest in these psychic matters was intellectual rather than spiritual. There
was no trace of asceticism upon his heavy face, but there was much mental force
in his huge, dome-like skull, which curved upward from amongst his thinning
locks, like a snowpeak above its fringe of fir trees. His knowledge was greater
than his wisdom, and his powers were far superior to his character. The small
bright eyes, buried deeply in his fleshy face, twinkled with intelligence and
an unabated curiosity of life, but they were the eyes of a sensualist and an
egotist. Enough of the man, for he is dead now, poor devil, dead at the very
time that he had made sure that he had at last discovered the elixir of life.
It is not with his complex character that I have to deal, but with the very
strange and inexplicable incident which had its rise in my visit to him in the
early spring of the year '82.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I had known Dacre in England, for my researches
in the Assyrian Room of the British Museum had been conducted at the time when
he was endeavouring to establish a mystic and esoteric meaning in the
Babylonian tablets, and this community of interests had brought us together.
Chance remarks had led to daily conversation, and that to something verging
upon friendship. I had promised him that on my next visit to Paris I would call
upon him. At the time when I was able to fulfil my compact I was living in a
cottage at Fontainebleau, and as the evening trains were inconvenient, he asked
me to spend the night in his house.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I have only that one spare couch,"
said he, pointing to a broad sofa in his large salon; "I hope that you
will manage to be comfortable there."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It was a singular bedroom, with its high walls of
brown volumes, but there could be no more agreeable furniture to a bookworm
like myself, and there is no scent so pleasant to my nostrils as that faint,
subtle reek which comes from an ancient book. I assured him that I could desire
no more charming chamber, and no more congenial surroundings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"If the fittings are neither convenient nor
conventional, they are at least costly," said he, looking round at his
shelves. "I have expended nearly a quarter of a million of money upon
these objects which surround you. Books, weapons, gems, carvings, tapestries,
images—there is hardly a thing here which has not its history, and it is
generally one worth telling."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">He was seated as he spoke at one side of the open
fire-place, and I at the other. His reading-table was on his right, and the
strong lamp above it ringed it with a very vivid circle of golden light. A
half-rolled palimpsest lay in the centre, and around it were many quaint
articles of bric-a-brac. One of these was a large funnel, such as is used for
filling wine casks. It appeared to be made of black wood, and to be rimmed with
discoloured brass.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"That is a curious thing," I remarked.
"What is the history of that?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Ah!" said he, "it is the very
question which I have had occasion to ask myself. I would give a good deal to
know. Take it in your hands and examine it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I did so, and found that what I had imagined to
be wood was in reality leather, though age had dried it into an extreme
hardness. It was a large funnel, and might hold a quart when full. The brass
rim encircled the wide end, but the narrow was also tipped with metal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"What do you make of it?" asked Dacre.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I should imagine that it belonged to some
vintner or maltster in the Middle Ages," said I. "I have seen in
England leathern drinking flagons of the seventeenth century—'black jacks' as
they were called—which were of the same colour and hardness as this
filler."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I dare say the date would be about the
same," said Dacre, "and, no doubt, also, it was used for filling a
vessel with liquid. If my suspicions are correct, however, it was a queer
vintner who used it, and a very singular cask which was filled. Do you observe
nothing strange at the spout end of the funnel."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">As I held it to the light I observed that at a
spot some five inches above the brass tip the narrow neck of the leather funnel
was all haggled and scored, as if someone had notched it round with a blunt
knife. Only at that point was there any roughening of the dead black surface.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Someone has tried to cut off the
neck."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Would you call it a cut?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"It is torn and lacerated. It must have
taken some strength to leave these marks on such tough material, whatever the
instrument may have been. But what do you think of it? I can tell that you know
more than you say."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Dacre smiled, and his little eyes twinkled with
knowledge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Have you included the psychology of dreams
among your learned studies?" he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I did not even know that there was such a
psychology."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"My dear sir, that shelf above the gem case
is filled with volumes, from Albertus Magnus onward, which deal with no other
subject. It is a science in itself."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"A science of charlatans!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"The charlatan is always the pioneer. From
the astrologer came the astronomer, from the alchemist the chemist, from the
mesmerist the experimental psychologist. The quack of yesterday is the
professor of tomorrow. Even such subtle and elusive things as dreams will in
time be reduced to system and order. When that time comes the researches of our
friends on the bookshelf yonder will no longer be the amusement of the mystic,
but the foundations of a science."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Supposing that is so, what has the science
of dreams to do with a large, black, brass-rimmed funnel?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I will tell you. You know that I have an
agent who is always on the look-out for rarities and curiosities for my
collection. Some days ago he heard of a dealer upon one of the Quais who had
acquired some old rubbish found in a cupboard in an ancient house at the back
of the Rue Mathurin, in the Quartier Latin. The dining-room of this old house
is decorated with a coat of arms, chevrons, and bars rouge upon a field argent,
which prove, upon inquiry, to be the shield of Nicholas de la Reynie, a high
official of King Louis XIV. There can be no doubt that the other articles in
the cupboard date back to the early days of that king. The inference is,
therefore, that they were all the property of this Nicholas de la Reynie, who
was, as I understand, the gentleman specially concerned with the maintenance
and execution of the Draconic laws of that epoch."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"What then?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I would ask you now to take the funnel into
your hands once more and to examine the upper brass rim. Can you make out any
lettering upon it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">There were certainly some scratches upon it,
almost obliterated by time. The general effect was of several letters, the last
of which bore some resemblance to a B.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"You make it a B?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Yes, I do."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"So do I. In fact, I have no doubt whatever
that it is a B."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"But the nobleman you mentioned would have
had R for his initial."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Exactly! That's the beauty of it. He owned
this curious object, and yet he had someone else's initials upon it. Why did he
do this?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I can't imagine; can you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Well, I might, perhaps, guess. Do you
observe something drawn a little farther along the rim?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I should say it was a crown."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"It is undoubtedly a crown; but if you
examine it in a good light, you will convince yourself that it is not an
ordinary crown. It is a heraldic crown—a badge of rank, and it consists of an
alternation of four pearls and strawberry leaves, the proper badge of a
marquis. We may infer, therefore, that the person whose initials end in B was
entitled to wear that coronet."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Then this common leather filler belonged to
a marquis?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Dacre gave a peculiar smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Or to some member of the family of a
marquis," said he. "So much we have clearly gathered from this
engraved rim."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"But what has all this to do with dreams?"
I do not know whether it was from a look upon Dacre's face, or from some subtle
suggestion in his manner, but a feeling of repulsion, of unreasoning horror,
came upon me as I looked at the gnarled old lump of leather.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I have more than once received important
information through my dreams," said my companion in the didactic manner
which he loved to affect. "I make it a rule now when I am in doubt upon
any material point to place the article in question beside me as I sleep, and
to hope for some enlightenment. The process does not appear to me to be very
obscure, though it has not yet received the blessing of orthodox science.
According to my theory, any object which has been intimately associated with
any supreme paroxysm of human emotion, whether it be joy or pain, will retain a
certain atmosphere or association which it is capable of communicating to a
sensitive mind. By a sensitive mind I do not mean an abnormal one, but such a
trained and educated mind as you or I possess."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"You mean, for example, that if I slept
beside that old sword upon the wall, I might dream of some bloody incident in
which that very sword took part?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"An excellent example, for, as a matter of
fact, that sword was used in that fashion by me, and I saw in my sleep the
death of its owner, who perished in a brisk skirmish, which I have been unable
to identify, but which occurred at the time of the wars of the Frondists. If
you think of it, some of our popular observances show that the fact has already
been recognized by our ancestors, although we, in our wisdom, have classed it
among superstitions."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"For example?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfD0lI85lnSWbCt3rWXDNMSYBtQL6zFmD4l5NQdrwg83X2RJT_1NfkUs1vSCFcJu8y9tTuKWq5vG1Ss1QUgLNeIW5bLL2-xWIzUWGk4B_ru0ba3dNit3fFeJeQLAZwT1oc37AC8hEUcNR0gfbN06gPrmnH0SC6LnSXjA8xHKlQhzxZUqDUmC1TMDHt6s/s386/Screenshot%202024-01-05%20160240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfD0lI85lnSWbCt3rWXDNMSYBtQL6zFmD4l5NQdrwg83X2RJT_1NfkUs1vSCFcJu8y9tTuKWq5vG1Ss1QUgLNeIW5bLL2-xWIzUWGk4B_ru0ba3dNit3fFeJeQLAZwT1oc37AC8hEUcNR0gfbN06gPrmnH0SC6LnSXjA8xHKlQhzxZUqDUmC1TMDHt6s/w530-h640/Screenshot%202024-01-05%20160240.jpg" width="530" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The bride's cake...???"</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Well, the placing of the bride's cake
beneath the pillow in order that the sleeper may have pleasant dreams. That is
one of several instances which you will find set forth in a small brochure
which I am myself writing upon the subject. But to come back to the point, I
slept one night with this funnel beside me, and I had a dream which certainly
throws a curious light upon its use and origin."</span></span></p><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"What did you dream?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I dreamed——" He paused, and an intent
look of interest came over his massive face. "By Jove, that's well thought
of," said he. "This really will be an exceedingly interesting
experiment. You are yourself a psychic subject—with nerves which respond
readily to any impression."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I have never tested myself in that
direction."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Then we shall test you tonight. Might I ask
you as a very great favour, when you occupy that couch tonight, to sleep with
this old funnel placed by the side of your pillow?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The request seemed to me a grotesque one; but I
have myself, in my complex nature, a hunger after all which is bizarre and
fantastic. I had not the faintest belief in Dacre's theory, nor any hopes for
success in such an experiment; yet it amused me that the experiment should be
made. Dacre, with great gravity, drew a small stand to the head of my settee,
and placed the funnel upon it. Then, after a short conversation, he wished me
good night and left me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p><span style="text-indent: 24.5pt;">I sat for some little time smoking by the
smouldering fire, and turning over in my mind the curious incident which had
occurred, and the strange experience which might lie before me. Sceptical as I
was, there was something impressive in the assurance of Dacre's manner, and my
extraordinary surroundings, the huge room with the strange and often sinister
objects which were hung round it, struck solemnity into my soul. Finally I
undressed, and turning out the lamp, I lay down. After long tossing I fell
asleep. Let me try to describe as accurately as I can the scene which came to me
in my dreams. It stands out now in my memory more clearly than anything which I
have seen with my waking eyes. There was a room which bore the appearance of a
vault. Four spandrels from the corners ran up to join a sharp, cup-shaped roof.
The architecture was rough, but very strong. It was evidently part of a great
building.</span></span></p><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Three men in black, with curious, top-heavy,
black velvet hats, sat in a line upon a red-carpeted dais. Their faces were
very solemn and sad. On the left stood two long-gowned men with port-folios in
their hands, which seemed to be stuffed with papers. Upon the right, looking
toward me, was a small woman with blonde hair and singular, light-blue eyes—the
eyes of a child. She was past her first youth, but could not yet be called middle-aged.
Her figure was inclined to stoutness and her bearing was proud and confident.
Her face was pale, but serene. It was a curious face, comely and yet feline,
with a subtle suggestion of cruelty about the straight, strong little mouth and
chubby jaw. She was draped in some sort of loose, white gown. Beside her stood
a thin, eager priest, who whispered in her ear, and continually raised a
crucifix before her eyes. She turned her head and looked fixedly past the
crucifix at the three men in black, who were, I felt, her judges.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">As I gazed the three men stood up and said
something, but I could distinguish no words, though I was aware that it was the
central one who was speaking. They then swept out of the room, followed by the
two men with the papers. At the same instant several rough-looking fellows in
stout jerkins came bustling in and removed first the red carpet, and then the
boards which formed the dais, so as to entirely clear the room. When this
screen was removed I saw some singular articles of furniture behind it. One
looked like a bed with wooden rollers at each end, and a winch handle to
regulate its length. Another was a wooden horse. There were several other
curious objects, and a number of swinging cords which played over pulleys. It
was not unlike a modern gymnasium.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">When the room had been cleared there appeared a
new figure upon the scene. This was a tall, thin person clad in black, with a
gaunt and austere face. The aspect of the man made me shudder. His clothes were
all shining with grease and mottled with stains. He bore himself with a slow
and impressive dignity, as if he took command of all things from the instant of
his entrance. In spite of his rude appearance and sordid dress, it was now his
business, his room, his to command. He carried a coil of light ropes over his
left forearm. The lady looked him up and down with a searching glance, but her
expression was unchanged. It was confident—even defiant. But it was very
different with the priest. His face was ghastly white, and I saw the moisture
glisten and run on his high, sloping forehead. He threw up his hands in prayer
and he stooped continually to mutter frantic words in the lady's ear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The man in black now advanced, and taking one of
the cords from his left arm, he bound the woman's hands together. She held them
meekly toward him as he did so. Then he took her arm with a rough grip and led
her toward the wooden horse, which was little higher than her waist. On to this
she was lifted and laid, with her back upon it, and her face to the ceiling,
while the priest, quivering with horror, had rushed out of the room. The
woman's lips were moving rapidly, and though I could hear nothing I knew that
she was praying. Her feet hung down on either side of the horse, and I saw that
the rough varlets in attendance had fastened cords to her ankles and secured
the other ends to iron rings in the stone floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="607" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOrAWkuS37Qwh-y8vtwaW8-bQdPCnRURUMX8C-WUuYfCRlY2SelI_2Rokau3VzN8yJD54Hk0uM58tobxdpGNJnYku8nEktXW4Bq6b4gQT6Ku66URe_si9wqTjwQbLizOlOvZGqcXUMI36stMqT92cxx9ZgxHcUJ4ax8DCtzmgwsVLfwT8IRiYZU9U6pE/w484-h640/Screenshot%202024-01-08%20120416.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="484" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Great Scott, Holmes!!!"</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOrAWkuS37Qwh-y8vtwaW8-bQdPCnRURUMX8C-WUuYfCRlY2SelI_2Rokau3VzN8yJD54Hk0uM58tobxdpGNJnYku8nEktXW4Bq6b4gQT6Ku66URe_si9wqTjwQbLizOlOvZGqcXUMI36stMqT92cxx9ZgxHcUJ4ax8DCtzmgwsVLfwT8IRiYZU9U6pE/s802/Screenshot%202024-01-08%20120416.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></a></div><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My heart sank within me as I saw these ominous
preparations, and yet I was held by the fascination of horror, and I could not
take my eyes from the strange spectacle. A man had entered the room with a
bucket of water in either hand. Another followed with a third bucket. They were
laid beside the wooden horse. The second man had a wooden dipper—a bowl with a
straight handle—in his other hand. This he gave to the man in black. At the
same moment one of the varlets approached with a dark object in his hand, which
even in my dream filled me with a vague feeling of familiarity. It was a
leathern filler. With horrible energy he thrust it—but I could stand no more.
My hair stood on end with horror. I writhed, I struggled, I broke through the
bonds of sleep, and I burst with a shriek into my own life, and found myself
lying shivering with terror in the huge library, with the moonlight flooding
through the window and throwing strange silver and black traceries upon the
opposite wall. Oh, what a blessed relief to feel that I was back in the
nineteenth century—back out of that mediaeval vault into a world where men had
human hearts within their bosoms. I sat up on my couch, trembling in every
limb, my mind divided between thankfulness and horror. To think that such
things were ever done—that they could be done without God striking the villains
dead. Was it all a fantasy, or did it really stand for something which had
happened in the black, cruel days of the world's history? I sank my throbbing
head upon my shaking hands. And then, suddenly, my heart seemed to stand still
in my bosom, and I could not even scream, so great was my terror. Something was
advancing toward me through the darkness of the room.</span></span></p><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It is a horror coming upon a horror which breaks
a man's spirit. I could not reason, I could not pray; I could only sit like a
frozen image, and glare at the dark figure which was coming down the great
room. And then it moved out into the white lane of moonlight, and I breathed
once more. It was Dacre, and his face showed that he was as frightened as
myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Was that you? For God's sake what's the
matter?" he asked in a husky voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Oh, Dacre, I am glad to see you! I have
been down into hell. It was dreadful."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Then it was you who screamed?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I dare say it was."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"It rang through the house. The servants are
all terrified." He struck a match and lit the lamp. "I think we may
get the fire to burn up again," he added, throwing some logs upon the
embers. "Good God, my dear chap, how white you are! You look as if you had
seen a ghost."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"So I have—several ghosts."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"The leather funnel has acted, then?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I wouldn't sleep near the infernal thing
again for all the money you could offer me."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Dacre chuckled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I expected that you would have a lively
night of it," said he. "You took it out of me in return, for that
scream of yours wasn't a very pleasant sound at two in the morning. I suppose
from what you say that you have seen the whole dreadful business."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"What dreadful business?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"The torture of the water—the 'Extraordinary
Question,' as it was called in the genial days of 'Le Roi Soleil.' Did you
stand it out to the end?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"No, thank God, I awoke before it really
began."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Ah! it is just as well for you. I held out
till the third bucket. Well, it is an old story, and they are all in their
graves now, anyhow, so what does it matter how they got there? I suppose that
you have no idea what it was that you have seen?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"The torture of some criminal. She must have
been a terrible malefactor indeed if her crimes are in proportion to her
penalty."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Well, we have that small consolation,"
said Dacre, wrapping his dressing-gown round him and crouching closer to the
fire. "They WERE in proportion to her penalty. That is to say, if I am
correct in the lady's identity."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"How could you possibly know her
identity?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">For answer Dacre took down an old vellum-covered
volume from the shelf.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Just listen to this," said he;
"it is in the French of the seventeenth century, but I will give a rough
translation as I go. You will judge for yourself whether I have solved the
riddle or not.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"'The prisoner was brought before the Grand
Chambers and Tournelles of Parliament, sitting as a court of justice, charged
with the murder of Master Dreux d'Aubray, her father, and of her two brothers,
MM. d'Aubray, one being civil lieutenant, and the other a counsellor of
Parliament. In person it seemed hard to believe that she had really done such
wicked deeds, for she was of a mild appearance, and of short stature, with a
fair skin and blue eyes. Yet the Court, having found her guilty, condemned her
to the ordinary and to the extraordinary question in order that she might be
forced to name her accomplices, after which she should be carried in a cart to
the Place de Greve, there to have her head cut off, her body being afterwards
burned and her ashes scattered to the winds.'<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"The date of this entry is July 16,
1676."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"It is interesting," said I, "but
not convincing. How do you prove the two women to be the same?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I am coming to that. The narrative goes on
to tell of the woman's behaviour when questioned. 'When the executioner
approached her she recognized him by the cords which he held in his hands, and
she at once held out her own hands to him, looking at him from head to foot
without uttering a word.' How's that?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Yes, it was so."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"'She gazed without wincing upon the wooden
horse and rings which had twisted so many limbs and caused so many shrieks of
agony. When her eyes fell upon the three pails of water, which were all ready
for her, she said with a smile, "All that water must have been brought
here for the purpose of drowning me, Monsieur. You have no idea, I trust, of
making a person of my small stature swallow it all."' Shall I read the
details of the torture?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"No, for Heaven's sake, don't."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Here is a sentence which must surely show
you that what is here recorded is the very scene which you have gazed upon
tonight: 'The good Abbe Pirot, unable to contemplate the agonies which were
suffered by his penitent, had hurried from the room.' Does that convince
you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"It does entirely. There can be no question
that it is indeed the same event. But who, then, is this lady whose appearance
was so attractive and whose end was so horrible?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">For answer Dacre came across to me, and placed
the small lamp upon the table which stood by my bed. Lifting up the ill-omened
filler, he turned the brass rim so that the light fell full upon it. Seen in
this way the engraving seemed clearer than on the night before.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2quKUzA2Fma9-XnZaBWUwyLIqTiroIGw79VoX96v7D3NRdvto2kN5LnAgwTAKh60dK9ajUYg-95LPlwJxt7HKk_XriE_aYwLI604FYy163iNGtEdPInLkDsEjVtU20KI0LJfu8hijxq3T9GbBKMPgiaq7KTZEtRAY1FpZspotmLQuJtpP-GX97BxRIHk/s1055/Arthur_Conan_Doyle_by_Walter_Benington,_1914.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1055" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2quKUzA2Fma9-XnZaBWUwyLIqTiroIGw79VoX96v7D3NRdvto2kN5LnAgwTAKh60dK9ajUYg-95LPlwJxt7HKk_XriE_aYwLI604FYy163iNGtEdPInLkDsEjVtU20KI0LJfu8hijxq3T9GbBKMPgiaq7KTZEtRAY1FpZspotmLQuJtpP-GX97BxRIHk/w486-h640/Arthur_Conan_Doyle_by_Walter_Benington,_1914.jpg" width="486" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"We have already agreed that this is the
badge of a marquis or of a marquise," said he. "We have also settled
that the last letter is B."</span></span></p><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"It is undoubtedly so."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I now suggest to you that the other letters
from left to right are, M, M, a small d, A, a small d, and then the final
B."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"Yes, I am sure that you are right. I can
make out the two small d's quite plainly."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"What I have read to you tonight," said
Dacre, "is the official record of the trial of Marie Madeleine d'Aubray,
Marquise de Brinvilliers, one of the most famous poisoners and murderers of all
time."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I sat in silence, overwhelmed at the
extraordinary nature of the incident, and at the completeness of the proof with
which Dacre had exposed its real meaning. In a vague way I remembered some
details of the woman's career, her unbridled debauchery, the cold-blooded and
protracted torture of her sick father, the murder of her brothers for motives
of petty gain. I recollected also that the bravery of her end had done
something to atone for the horror of her life, and that all Paris had
sympathized with her last moments, and blessed her as a martyr within a few
days of the time when they had cursed her as a murderess. One objection, and
one only, occurred to my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"How came her initials and her badge of rank
upon the filler? Surely they did not carry their mediaeval homage to the
nobility to the point of decorating instruments of torture with their
titles?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"I was puzzled with the same point,"
said Dacre, "but it admits of a simple explanation. The case excited
extraordinary interest at the time, and nothing could be more natural than that
La Reynie, the head of the police, should retain this filler as a grim
souvenir. It was not often that a marchioness of France underwent the
extraordinary question. That he should engrave her initials upon it for the
information of others was surely a very ordinary proceeding upon his
part."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"And this?" I asked, pointing to the
marks upon the leathern neck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"She was a cruel tigress," said Dacre,
as he turned away. "I think it is evident that like other tigresses her
teeth were both strong and sharp."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center; text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">END</span></p><p style="text-align: center; text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center; text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-indent: 24.5pt;">Louis Shalako </span><a href="https://play.google.com/store/info/name/Louis_Shalako?id=12p9828sb" style="text-indent: 24.5pt;" target="_blank">has books and stories on GooglePlay.</a></span></p><p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center; text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">See <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" target="_blank">his works on Fine Art America.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center; text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">See this <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank">free audiobook here. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">One Million Words of Crap.</i></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center; text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">More on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Conan_Doyle" target="_blank">Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center; text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Thank you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-indent: 24.5pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-4030766243555568512024-01-08T06:01:00.000-05:002024-01-08T06:01:00.506-05:00The Stranger. Gordon R. Dickson.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX_kQqQyJKECT7U6OVMQP-6i_KvZZLU4Fnn8z-ME6UfbAGLSKoZbwyBXcKR5LXbLg4KKTnGAHXynMCQUv1y6SpdgQWw5vRLDMGlMeKs7hTNi_NuHnUBrTeN5y7TAGQWMIaUQ-a0FWu8mUGRUpVTWvV3IOQoxwNejd7yn9ePUkuiL5DbwuVNKG28YoUs8/s738/Screenshot%202024-01-08%20053034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="738" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX_kQqQyJKECT7U6OVMQP-6i_KvZZLU4Fnn8z-ME6UfbAGLSKoZbwyBXcKR5LXbLg4KKTnGAHXynMCQUv1y6SpdgQWw5vRLDMGlMeKs7hTNi_NuHnUBrTeN5y7TAGQWMIaUQ-a0FWu8mUGRUpVTWvV3IOQoxwNejd7yn9ePUkuiL5DbwuVNKG28YoUs8/w640-h478/Screenshot%202024-01-08%20053034.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Gordon R. Dickson</p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">If the alien space
craft was not a rocket </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">ship, what was it? And an even bigger question: </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">should they investigate—or run for their lives!</span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 36.0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy </span></b><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">May 1952</span></b></span></b></div><b>
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;"><i>We will not consider the odds involved
in their finding the stranger, for the odds were impossible. </i></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">They came down to rest their tubes on
an unnamed planet of a little-known star in the Buckhorn Cluster. Because they
were tired from weeks in space, they came in without looking. They circled the
planet once and spiraled down to an open patch of sand between two rocky
cliffs. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">Only then did they see the other ship.<br /></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff Wadley was at the controls and his
eyes widened when he saw it. But his fingers did not hesitate on the controls,
for a deep-space starship is not the kind of vehicle that can change its mind
about landing once it is within half a mile of the ground. He brought the
Emerald Girl in smoothly to a stop not five hundred feet from the stranger.
Then he sat back.</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Dad," he said flatly, into
the intercom, "swing the turret!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Peter Wadley, up in the instrument
room, had already seen the strange ship, and the heavy twin barrels of the
automatic rifles were depressing to cover. Jeff leaned forward to the
communicator.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"<i>Identify yourself!</i>"
The tight beam in Common Code snapped across the little stretch of open sand to
the cliff against which the other seemed to nestle. "We are the mining
ship Emerald Girl, Earth license, five hundred and eighty-two days out of
Arcturus Station. <i>Identify yourself!</i>"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">There were steps behind Jeff, and Peter
Wadley came to stand behind his son's tense back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Do they answer, Jeff?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"No."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"<i>Identify yourself. Identify
yourself! Identify yourself!</i>"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The angry demand crackled and arced
invisibly across the space between both vessels. And there was no answer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff sat back from the communicator.
The palms of his hands were wet and he wiped them on the cloth of his breeches.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Let's get out of here," he
said nervously.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"And leave <i>him</i>?"
his father's lean forefinger indicated the strange silent ship.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Why not?" Jeff jerked his
face up. "We're no salvage outfit or Government exploration unit."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">There was a moment of tenseness between
them. The older man's face tightened.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"We'd better look into it,"
he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Are you crazy?" blazed Jeff.
"It was here when we came. It'll be here if we leave. Let's get going. We
can report it if you want. Let the Federal ships investigate."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Maybe it just landed," his
father said evenly. "Maybe it's in trouble."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"What if it is?" Jeff insisted.
"Don't you realize we're a sitting target here? And what do you think it
is—Aunt Susie's runabout? Look at it!" And with a savage flip of his hand
he shoved the magnification of the viewing screen up so that the other ship
seemed to loom up a handbreadth beyond their walls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">It was an unnecessary gesture. There
was no mistaking that the lines of the other ship were foreign to any they had
ever seen. It was big: not outlandishly big, but bigger than the Emerald Girl,
and bulb-shaped with most of its bulk in front. There was no sign of ports or
airlocks, only a few stubby fins, which projected forlornly from the body at an
angle of some thirty degrees.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">And from its silence and immobility,
its strange inhuman lines, a cold air of alien menace seemed to reach out to
chill the two watching men.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Well?" challenged Jeff. But
the older man was not listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"The radarcamera," he said,
half to himself. He turned on his heel and stalked off. Jeff, sitting tensely
in his chair, heard his father's footsteps die away, to be succeeded seconds
later by the distant clumsy sounds of a man getting into a spacesuit. Jeff
swore, and jumping to his feet, ran to the airlock. His father, radarcamera at
his feet, was already half-dressed to go outside.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"You aren't going out there?"
he asked incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEta4IDMw3ZUH4H1Pm-hihuinp_frk0Ph29av8JdEdy6x1aBTvr8_H7UiHhyoC_kmhpnYoe7qkJSDoyj4-gPDMBTWPNK6hJvBgANcNaCAiMNg2MB5a6DWP6m665OBbqGoyEIT_72cFF9hyphenhyphendVjxzcG2n2Q_QV2AJrQzjiVTPpgQxmeDz4inSA0MNPbwRc/s1096/Jeff_Goldblum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1096" data-original-width="826" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEta4IDMw3ZUH4H1Pm-hihuinp_frk0Ph29av8JdEdy6x1aBTvr8_H7UiHhyoC_kmhpnYoe7qkJSDoyj4-gPDMBTWPNK6hJvBgANcNaCAiMNg2MB5a6DWP6m665OBbqGoyEIT_72cFF9hyphenhyphendVjxzcG2n2Q_QV2AJrQzjiVTPpgQxmeDz4inSA0MNPbwRc/w301-h400/Jeff_Goldblum.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Surely you're not going out there?"</td></tr></tbody></table></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The older man nodded and picked up his
fishbowl helmet. Jeff's face twisted in dismay.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I won't let you!" he
half-shouted. "You're risking your life and I can't navigate the ship
without you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Helmet in hand, his father paused, the
deep-graved lines of his face stiffening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I'm still master of this
ship!" he said curtly. "Alien or not that other ship may need
assistance. By intraspace law I'm obliged to give it. If you're worried, cover
me from the gun-turret." He dropped the helmet over his head, cutting Jeff
off from further protest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Seething with mixed fear and anger,
Jeff turned abruptly and climbed hurriedly to the gun-turret. The twin barrels
of the rifles were already centered on their target, which the aiming screen showed,
together with the area between the two vessels and a portion of the Emerald
Girl's airlock, which projected from her side. As Jeff watched, the outer lock
swung open and a grey, space-suited figure raced for the protection of the bow.
It was a dash of no more than five seconds' duration, but to Jeff it seemed
that his father took an eternity to reach safety.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He reached for the microphone on the
ship's circuit and pulled it to him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"All right, Dad?" In spite of
himself, Jeff's voice was still ragged with anger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Fine, Jeff," his father's
voice came back in unperturbed tones. "I'm well shielded and I can get
good, clean shots at every part of her."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Let me know when you're ready to
start back," said Jeff, and shoved the microphone away from him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He sat back and lit a cigarette, but
his eyes continued to watch the other ship as a man might watch a dud bomb
which has not yet been disarmed. After a while, he noticed his fingers were
shaking, and he laid the cigarette carefully down in the ashtray.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">When he comes back, thought Jeff, it'll
be time. We'll have this thing out then. He's become some sort of a religious
fanatic, and he doesn't know it. How a man who's been all over hell and seen
the worst sides of fifty different races in as many years can think of them all
as lovable human children, I don't know. But, know it or not, this taking of
chances has got to stop someplace; and right here is the best place of all.
When he gets back—if he gets back, we're taking off. And if he doesn't get back
... I'll blow that bloody bastard over there into so many bits....<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Coming in, Jeff," his
father's voice on the speaker interrupted him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff leaned forward, his hands on the
trips of the rifles; the small grey figure suddenly shot back to the protection
of the airlock, which snapped shut behind it. Then, he took a deep breath,
stood up, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He went down to the
instrument room.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Peter Wadley was already out of his
suit and developing the pictures. Jeff picked them up as they came off the
roll, damp and soft to the touch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I can't tell much," he said,
holding them up to the light.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"There's a great deal of
overlap," his father answered. "We're going to have to section and
fit the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. Wait'll I'm through here."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">For about five minutes more, pictures
continued to come off the roll. Then Peter picked up a pair of scissors and
arranged the prints in their proper sequence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Clear the table," he told
Jeff, "and fit these together as I hand them to you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">For a little while longer, they worked
in silence. Then Peter laid down his scissors.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"That's all," he said.
"Now, what have we got?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I don't know," answered
Jeff, bewilderment in his voice. "It looks like nothing I've ever
seen."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Peter stepped up to the table and
squinted at the shadowy films with eyes practiced in reading rock formations.
He shook his head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"It is strange," he said,
finally.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Do you see what I see?"
demanded Jeff. "There's no real crew space. There's this one spot—up
front—" he indicated it with his finger—"that's about as big as a
good sized closet. And nothing more than that—except corridors about twenty
inches in diameter running from it to points all over the ship. She must be
flown by a crew of midgets."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Midgets," echoed the older man,
thoughtfully. "I never heard of an intelligent race that small."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Then they're something new,"
said Jeff, with a shrug of his shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"No," said his father,
slowly. "I don't remember when or where I heard it, but there's some
reason why you couldn't have an intelligent race much smaller than a good sized
dog. It has something to do with the fact that they grow in size as their
developing intelligence gives them an increasing advantage over their
environment."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Here's the evidence," Jeff
answered, tapping the film with one finger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"No," Pete was bending over
the picture fragments again. "Look at these things in the corridor.
They're obviously controls."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff looked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I see what you mean," he
said at last. "If there's any similarity between their mechanical system
and ours, these controls are built for somebody pretty big. But look how
they're scattered all over the ship. There's a good fifteen or twenty different
groups of instruments and other things. That means a number of crew members;
and you simply can't put a number of large crew members in those little
corridors."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"There's a large amount of total
space," Pete began. Then, suddenly a faint tremor ran through the ship.
Jeff leaped for the screen and his father moved over to stand behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Good Lord," said Jeff,
"look at her."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The other ship shook suddenly and
rolled slightly to one side. Some unseen center of gravity pulled her back to
her original position. She hesitated a moment, and then tried again, with the
same results. She lay quiescent.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff pounced on his radiation drum
graph.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"What does it say?" Peter
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff shook his head in astonishment.
"Nothing," he answered, "just nothing at all."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Nothing?" Peter came over to
take a look at the graph himself. It was as Jeff had said. The line tracing the
white surface of the graph was straight and undisturbed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"But that's impossible,"
Peter frowned.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The two men turned back to the screen.
As they watched, one final shudder shook the strange ship, and then, like a
stranded whale who has given up hope, it lay still.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"My God!" said Pete, and Jeff
turned to him in astonishment. It was the closest to profanity his father had
come in twenty years. "Jeff, do you know what I think? I think that ship
is manned by just one great big creature—like a giant squid. That's why no
radiation registered. He was trying to move his ship by sheer strength."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff stared at his father.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"You're crazy," was all he
could manage to say. "Why, something big enough to shake that ship would
have to fill every inch of space inside it. You can't live in a space ship that
way."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"That's right," Pete
answered. He clamped his hand on Jeff's shoulder excitedly and led him back to
the jigsaw puzzle on the table.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"If I'm right," he said,
"that's no ship at all as we understand it, but some sort of a space-going
suit for something terrifically large. Something like a giant squid, as I said,
or some other long-tentacled creature. His body would lie here—in this space
you said was about the size of a closet—and his tentacles or whatever they are,
would reach out in these corridors to the various groups of instruments."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_Pro1uz2yrBdoucJ47HEPaf6uAzr8tLBFuX-qgGWAIqn8bzh5p_6xydCTxEkfwZboZY1rf7uJxCzLeaX1XXp7J93yUXiF8Bj-KfafywoHrzt82NHBDcWuIRlK8XbV1i458raApXDGCrcEEoCfSYnjpAPwGdK76apWRgzEkmDaXH-2Vy7yfXfgJGU9BQ/s772/Screenshot%202024-01-08%20054228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="772" height="578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_Pro1uz2yrBdoucJ47HEPaf6uAzr8tLBFuX-qgGWAIqn8bzh5p_6xydCTxEkfwZboZY1rf7uJxCzLeaX1XXp7J93yUXiF8Bj-KfafywoHrzt82NHBDcWuIRlK8XbV1i458raApXDGCrcEEoCfSYnjpAPwGdK76apWRgzEkmDaXH-2Vy7yfXfgJGU9BQ/w640-h578/Screenshot%202024-01-08%20054228.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The alien controls the ship with its eight deadly testicles...</i>and please don't call me Shirley.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff frowned.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"It sounds sensible," he
muttered. "And in any case, he wouldn't be able to get outside his ship to
fix anything that went wrong. And I take it there is something wrong, or else
he wouldn't be jumping around inside."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Jeff," Pete said, "I'm
going outside to take a close look at him."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff's head snapped up from the jigsaw
puzzle. The old, sick fear had come back. It washed over him like a wave.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Why?" he demanded harshly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"To see if I can find out what's
wrong with his ship," said Pete over his shoulder as he went to the
airlock. "Coming?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Wait!" cried Jeff. He stood
up and followed his father. For a moment there, they stood facing each other,
two tall men with less apparent physical difference between them than their
ages might indicate, poised on the brink of an open break.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Wait," said Jeff again, and
now his voice was lower, more under control. "Dad, there's no point in
playing around any longer. You aren't going to be satisfied just to look around
out there and then leave. You're going to do something. And if that's it I want
to know now."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">There was a moment's silence; then Pete
turned back to Jeff, his face set.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"That's right," he said.
"I don't have to look. I know what's wrong. And I know what I'm going to
do about it. There's a living intelligence trapped in that space-thing as you
and I might be trapped. I can set it free with two of our motor jacks. If
you've got one inkling of what it means to be ignored when you're caught like
that, you'll help me. If not, I'm taking two jacks out the airlock and you can
fire the motors and take off and be damned to you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Between the two big men the tension
built and strained and broke. Jeff let out a ragged sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"All right," he said.
"I'm with you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Good," said the older man,
and there was new life in his voice. "Get your suit on. I'll explain as we
dress."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"The trouble with our friend there
is that he's fallen over. I see you don't understand, Jeff. Well, this ship of
ours lands on her belly. We've got booster rockets all over the hull to correct
our landing angle. But ships weren't always that way. They used to have to sit
down on their tail. There's no furrow where that ship landed, only a circular
blasted spot, so it figures. Maybe some of his mechanism went wrong at the last
minute.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"At any rate, I'm betting that if
we get him upright again, he can take care of himself from there on out. So you
and I are going to go out there with a couple of jacks and see if we can't jack
him back up into position."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The sand was thick and heavy. The walk
over to the other ship was tedious, with the heavy jacks weighing them down.
They reached the alien hull, paused a moment to get their breath and then
attached the magnetic grapples to the skin of the ship at two points on
opposite sides of the hull and roughly a fourth of the way up from the rocket
tubes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">It was hard to anchor the jacks in the
soft sand. They finally found it necessary to dig them in some three or four feet
to a layer of rock that underlay the sand. Then, when everything was ready,
they took their stations, each at a jack, and Pete called to Jeff on the helmet
set.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"All ready? Start your
motor."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff reached down and flicked a switch.
The tiny, powerful jack motor began to spin, and the jack base settled more
solidly against its rocky bed. When he was sure that it would not slip, he left
it, and went around the rockets to stand by his father.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">His face was grey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Well," said Pete tensely,
"up she goes."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The nose of the alien ship was raising
slowly from the sand. It quivered softly from some motion inside the ship.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Yes," said Jeff, "up
she goes." His words were flat and dull. Pete turned to look at him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Scared, son?" he asked.
Jeff's lips parted, closed and opened again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"You know how we stand," he
said, dully. "I've heard what you said from other men, but never from an
alien. Most of the ones we know hit first, and talk afterward. You know that
once this ship is on its feet we're at his mercy. Just his rocket blasts alone
could kill us; and there won't be time to get back to the Girl."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The alien was now at an angle of
forty-five degrees. The little jacks stretched steadily, pushing their thin,
stiff arms against the strange hull. Sand dripped from the rising ship.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Yes, Jeff," Pete said.
"I know. But the important thing isn't what he does, but what we do. The
fact that we've helped him—can't you see it that way, son?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff shook his head in bewilderment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I don't know," he said
helplessly. "I just don't know."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The ship was now nearly upright.
Suddenly, with an abruptness that startled both men, it shook itself free of
the jacks and teetered free for a second, before coming to rest, its nose
pointing straight up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Here it goes," said Pete, a
tinge of excitement in his voice. They moved back some yards to be out of the
way of the takeoff blast. Suddenly the ground trembled under their feet. Pete
put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Here it goes," he repeated,
in a whisper.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Flame burst abruptly from the base of
the ship. It was warming up its tubes. Slowly the flame puffed out from its
base and it began to rise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jeff shook suddenly with an
uncontrollable shudder. His voice came to Pete through the earphones, starkly
afraid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Now what?" he cried.
"What'll he do now?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pete's grip tightened on his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Steady boy."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The ship was rising. Up it went, and
up, until it was the size of a man's little finger, a tiny sliver of silver
against the black backdrop of the sky. Then, inexplicably, it halted and began
to reverse itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Slowly it turned, until the blunt nose
pointed toward them. Jeff's hoarse breathing was loud in his helmet. <i>Now
it comes</i>, he thought, and his muscles tensed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">A long minute flowed by and still the
alien hung there. Then, abruptly it went into a series of idiotic gyrations; it
twisted and turned, and spun around, swinging its fiery trail of rocket gases
like a luminous tail in the darkness. Then, just as abruptly, it reversed once
more, so that its head was away from them; in the twinkling of a moment it was
gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pete sighed, a deep, ragged sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Did you see it, boy?" he
cried. "Did you see it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcOs67juFLzO-iwvg9klUmCYzydVSoYH8rzU1H3wjkeegFgetdvml-7GQKUv5fv5LAOdy4LzHhOL1g4RYgLQNee7eGKEeBtq90xpdQcg_quk6Y2z15sEjvK-a8iXDYfT40MW8-qCjJOZNLcLTRvxyBc8kPfE0DaXEzD1TFmPTgZWJv7VaBTT7Tz_um80/s300/Gordon_R._Dickson_(Minicon_1974).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="254" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcOs67juFLzO-iwvg9klUmCYzydVSoYH8rzU1H3wjkeegFgetdvml-7GQKUv5fv5LAOdy4LzHhOL1g4RYgLQNee7eGKEeBtq90xpdQcg_quk6Y2z15sEjvK-a8iXDYfT40MW8-qCjJOZNLcLTRvxyBc8kPfE0DaXEzD1TFmPTgZWJv7VaBTT7Tz_um80/s1600/Gordon_R._Dickson_(Minicon_1974).jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gordon R. Dickson.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I saw," Jeff's voice was
filled with a new awe. "Now I get it. He wasn't sure—he didn't know we
were really trying to help him until we let him get all the way out there by
himself. Then he knew he was free. That's why he wouldn't answer before."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Sure, Jeff, sure," said the
older man, a note of triumph in his voice. "But that's not what I mean.
Did you notice all those contortions he was going through up there? What did
they remind you of?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">There was a moment of silence, then the
words came, at first slowly, then in a rush from Jeff's lips.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Like a puppy," he said,
haltingly, stumbling over the wonder of it. "Like a puppy wagging its
tail."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">And the light of a new understanding
broke suddenly in his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Dad!" said Jeff, turning to
his father. "Dad! Do you know what I think? I think we've made a
friend."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">And the two men stood there, side by
side, looking into the blackness of space where an odd-shaped spacecraft had
vanished. It, they felt, was on its way home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">And they were right. Moreover, It was
hurrying.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">For It had a story to tell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Louis Shalako has <a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Stranger-Paris-Louis-Shalako-ebook/dp/B0C5FJMK3Z" target="_blank">books and stories available fromAmazon.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See </span><a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">his works on ArtPal.</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> Makes a nice coffee cup—</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Grab a free audiobook, <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAECiFW5V3M" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Handbag’s Tale</i>,</a> from Google Play.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">More on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gordon_R._Dickson" target="_blank">Gordon R. Dickson.</a> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Wiki)<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Jeff Goldbum image is from <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jeff_Goldblum.jpg" target="_blank">Wiki Commons.</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thank you for reading, and listening<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-85586593531911616942024-01-06T15:37:00.000-05:002024-01-06T15:37:24.864-05:00Blind Play. Chan Davis.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5t0xUCSlzklV7Km4qIN3s3klMymELgEHLq9JgqwuVVrXD9w3Wz46CH5CUgm87Qb1ONGhIwv1x92NIs3bNSgYwo1Dak2F5KK3vxv_WTxVQZ7T4wLLqXg07hxhzY3kiDxx0bXZ2xC1Sa_pc51qjsxgvsuez6iGvVYTCT7CN3gErullhXv2_Dhdt8EeRdGU/s852/0f550b53083676711bc2876e268ea6f2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="852" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5t0xUCSlzklV7Km4qIN3s3klMymELgEHLq9JgqwuVVrXD9w3Wz46CH5CUgm87Qb1ONGhIwv1x92NIs3bNSgYwo1Dak2F5KK3vxv_WTxVQZ7T4wLLqXg07hxhzY3kiDxx0bXZ2xC1Sa_pc51qjsxgvsuez6iGvVYTCT7CN3gErullhXv2_Dhdt8EeRdGU/w640-h362/0f550b53083676711bc2876e268ea6f2.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Chan Davis</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Nick Pappas,
hired-killer from Callisto, was </span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">strictly out for Pappas—out for Number One, as </span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">they used to say. And now those fools in the </span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">vanishing spaceship thought that number was up!</span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 36.0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Planet Stories May
1951.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Nick Pappas had just crossed to the
instrument panel of the <i>Tang Chuh-Chih's</i> lifeboat when he
heard a sound behind him. He turned quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He had left the airlock between the
lifeboat and the ship open. That had been stupid, he realized, but it was too
late to correct it now. One of the <i>Tang's</i> two other crew
members was approaching down the corridor just beyond the airlock; if he saw
the doors slide shut now he'd be immediately suspicious. That would leave
Pappas inside the lifeboat, and before he could drain enough fuel from the
ship's tanks into the lifeboat's, the other two could have the airlock cut
open.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He still had a chance to hide—but
before he could propel himself to the other end of the lifeboat, out of sight,
Arne Birkerod appeared at the other side of the open airlock.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Birkerod smiled. Pappas stood still,
gripping the pilot's seat in front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Hello, Arne," said Pappas.
"I was just checking over the—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Good morning, Nick—or good
evening, if you like. Let's go up to the control cabin and see Garcia."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">For a very brief moment, Pappas
considered. Although the <i>Tang</i> was in free fall, he was very
conscious of the weight of the gun concealed inside his jacket. He might use it
now, but the sound would bring Garcia. Better to bluff it through. The other
two might not be suspicious yet, and in a pinch he had the advantage that they
weren't armed. "Sure," he said, and pushed himself across to where
Birkerod stood.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"After you," said Birkerod,
much more politely than usual.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pappas smiled uncertainly. He planted
both feet against the side of the airlock opening, then jumped off. He floated
down the ship's corridor to where it took a sharp bend; there he grabbed a rung
of a ladder bolted to the corridor wall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Birkerod had pushed off harder than
Pappas had; he arrived at the ladder at the same time. "After you,"
he said again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pappas saw, at the end of the long
corridor ahead, the open door to the control cabin. He pushed off in that
direction.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Yusuf Garcia was in the ship's pilot's
seat. Garcia was half Brazilian and half Malagasy. His eyes had a strong green
tint which looked strange against the deep brown-black of his face. Pappas had
always been a little afraid of him and the present situation didn't help that
any; there was a gun in Garcia's hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Birkerod followed Pappas in, taking a
seat facing Garcia. "What did you find, Yusuf?" he asked casually.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Well, Arne, I haven't finished
checking up on our little conjecture; the calculator over there is still
working on it. But while I was waiting I looked through our friend Pappas's
locker. You may already have noticed what I found." He waved the gun.
"Where did you find our friend, by the way?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Birkerod smiled. "First place I
looked."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"The lifeboat?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Yeah."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"What was he doing?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Nothing. I think I know how our
little conjecture's going to turn out, though." He turned to Pappas, who
had followed the exchange tensely. "You know, Nick, my father was a
fellow-countryman of yours back on Earth."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Countryman?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"That's right. He lived just north
of Winnipeg. My mother was a Canadian, too. Both of them were in the second
batch of colonists that left for Callisto. But it doesn't mean much to call you
a Canadian any more, does it? Garcia and you and I, we're all Callistans
now."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Sure," said Pappas,
wondering.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Callisto: A cold world. A small new
world, and a cold world, and incredibly distant from the planet that had
evolved its settlers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">In the thirty years since the
exploration of Jupiter's satellites had begun, Callisto had had a very
different history from the rest. On Ganymede, a hundred or so engineers had
been working all that time on the tremendous task of raising the satellite's
mean temperature to the point where an atmosphere could be provided and
open-air cities and farms built in which Earthmen could live. The smaller
satellites had been largely ignored. But it had been found that Callisto had
large deposits of ore of such quality that, in spite of the tremendously long
haul required to carry anything from there to the inner planets, it was
worthwhile beginning mining operations. Up went the insulated, airtight domes,
out came the colonists, down went the mine shafts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">It was a hard life. Crystalline rock
was cut by machines at the mine-faces, and by the time other machines had
brought it up the shafts to the surface-level in the domes, it had become
amorphous and powdery, its crystalline structure destroyed by being heated to
twenty degrees below zero Centigrade. When you repaired machinery below the
surface, you wore sixty kilograms of spacesuit (Earth weight), and a failure of
any item of equipment or a fumble by any member of your crew might mean sudden
death. The walls of the dome shut you in from the sky, for the vacuum out there
was death too; when you did get up to the observatory to see the sky, you saw
Jupiter, weirdly streaked with brilliant color—if your dome was on the side of
Callisto toward Jupiter. Otherwise, you looked across twenty million kilometers
of vacuum to the nearest star.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">It was a hard life, and no life for a
lone wolf. There were no homestead farms to be settled by lonely pioneer
families. Callisto was a sterile place, and to keep life going there at all men
had to work together. Cooperation was a lesson Earth civilization had learned
only after thousands of years of oppression and war; a lesson that had to be
learned before men could cross space; and a lesson that was very difficult to
forget on Callisto. At least for most people.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Rita and Cliff Belden had control of
the trade between Callisto and the inner planets. It didn't start as control,
though; the way it began was this: Once the colony had been well established,
its operation was left completely up to the Callistans, who shipped as much of
their goods to Earth as they could manage, and requisitioned as much food and
supplies from Earth as they needed—which was really the best way. The inner
planets could not very well take part in the planning of Callisto's activities,
since there was no radio contact and the trip took over two months by freighter
even when the relative positions of the planets in their orbits was most
favorable. One freighter shuttled back and forth between No. 2 Dome on Callisto
at one end and any of several inner-planet ports at the other. Rita and Cliff
Belden were the two Callistans whose job it was to run that freighter.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2PQi9zbGhEFRTNlZ_xeKtNlv6HP-FXnH1LJA2GObDZltdT0ejHiq7xhsM_VZqotimnce0E4MTHXWsNAaaEfQ9Ni-JPvPUVpNJ1t_2t_2EYPZw_ZfS2K3NXihjVjveIrDKiaxTjMC-Tn3Ot8gNzL-eBYVSow1P9f9OtfVuKf9y-RC2M2ydLJ5J49dB_Q/s1280/sr_2_normandy__s_decent_by_rvdm88-d35rdo0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2PQi9zbGhEFRTNlZ_xeKtNlv6HP-FXnH1LJA2GObDZltdT0ejHiq7xhsM_VZqotimnce0E4MTHXWsNAaaEfQ9Ni-JPvPUVpNJ1t_2t_2EYPZw_ZfS2K3NXihjVjveIrDKiaxTjMC-Tn3Ot8gNzL-eBYVSow1P9f9OtfVuKf9y-RC2M2ydLJ5J49dB_Q/w400-h225/sr_2_normandy__s_decent_by_rvdm88-d35rdo0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The little colony was absolutely
dependent on the supplies they brought. This fact was obvious to everybody, but
the Beldens made a deduction from it which was unprecedented on Callisto: they
could threaten to withhold the supplies and thereby force the rest of the
colonists to agree to whatever they asked—provided they could make the threat
stick. They made the attempt. On one of their trips back from Earth, they put
the ship into an orbit around Callisto instead of landing, and announced they
would not land until their henchmen on Callisto were in control.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">And the henchmen did a thorough job of
taking control. All the details were taken care of: They quickly seized the
radio transmitters that maintained contact with Ganymede, they confiscated all
the reserves of spaceship fuel they could find, they clamped down as tightly as
they could on communication between the domes; then they started keeping a
close check on every tool that could be used as a weapon. There was just one
place they slipped up. Their search for fuel wasn't good enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The people of No. 4 Dome pooled the
fuel they had hidden from the Beldens; they seized from the Beldens' guards the
Dome's tiny spaceship, which had been assembled on Callisto and which had never
been intended to leave the Jupiter system; and they sent the ship off for
Venus, with Garcia and Birkerod aboard. Venus was the only possible
destination, with the planets' positions in their orbits as they were then: to
reach Earth or Mars would have taken either more fuel than they had, or much
more time than they could spare.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">As it was, the trip took eight months.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">On Venus there was no hitch. Garcia and
Birkerod went to the Liaison Office in Kreingrad, as planned, and were provided
with the <i>Tang Chuh-Chih</i>, with a load of supplies—and with Nick
Pappas, a former Callistan who wanted to return there. They followed the
Liaison Office's suggestion and took Pappas aboard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"We're all Callistans now,"
Birkerod repeated. "I wonder, Nick. How did you happen to leave Callisto
in the first place? Just felt like visiting good old Saskatchewan? I doubt it.
Let's see—you left before that business started with the Beldens, didn't
you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pappas licked his lips nervously.
Garcia answered for him: "Yes, about ten months before, according to what
they told us on Venus."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Yeah," Birkerod mused.
"You know the Beldens, of course."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Yes," said Pappas, "of
course. I came to Earth on their freighter."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Not <i>their</i> freighter,"
Garcia put in. "Callisto's freighter, which they were operating. It's only
more recently that it's become <i>their</i> freighter."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Birkerod smiled and went on, "It's
interesting, Mr. Pappas, that you left Callisto about the time the Beldens'
plans must have been taking shape. I wonder why you did?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pappas ignored the question. A moment
before, the red signal light had flashed on above the calculator set in the
opposite bulkhead. The computations had been finished on Garcia and Birkerod's
"little conjecture."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Garcia, who was closest to the machine,
filled in the silence. "Let's find out what the calculator has to say. It
may clear things up a little."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">There was a row of spring-clamps set in
the bulkhead next to him for holding objects stationary while the ship was in
free fall. Garcia put his gun in one of these, slipped out of the "safety
belt" that had held him in the pilot's seat in spite of the lack of
gravity, and turned to the calculator.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pappas sprang. Not toward Garcia—but
toward the side of the cabin that would have been the ceiling if there had been
an "up." He snatched his gun from his jacket.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Something crashed into Pappas, spun him
around. Birkerod had jumped too, hitting him hard in midair.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The cabin whirled about them. He felt
Birkerod's powerful grip around the hand which held the gun. Simultaneously
they reached the ceiling; Pappas's head hit metal with a crack. The gun fell
free. Weightless, the two of them wrestled desperately.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Suddenly Birkerod pulled loose and
jumped away. Pappas found himself alone in the middle of the cabin, drifting
slowly from the pilot's seat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">In the pilot's seat Garcia was again
sitting calmly, his gun leveled. Birkerod had the other gun. There was silence
while Pappas reached the bulkhead, pushed back to his seat, and belted himself
in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Garcia said, "Suppose I try
answering some of these questions. When Arne and I left Callisto, the Beldens
learned our orbit and high-tailed in to the inner planets. With plenty of fuel,
they arrived before us, and got you, their agent, on the job. You got yourself
included in our return trip on the <i>Tang</i>. Then you calculated an
orbit for us that would run us smack into Earth at a relative velocity of
thirty-odd kilometers a second!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"The next thing was to divert the
fuel from the <i>Tang's</i> tanks to the lifeboat's, and take off
yourself in the lifeboat. That would have left us in a collision orbit, with no
fuel to pull ourselves out of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Not such a good plan, Nick. You
should have planned just to kill us both as soon as the <i>Tang</i> was
in space; you'd have had a better chance that way. Your over-eagerness to
compute our orbit just didn't look natural."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"No, listen," Pappas
protested feebly. "I didn't calculate a collision orbit. I—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Sorry," said Garcia.
"That's what the machine just finished checking for us. The orbit we're on
meets Earth dead center, and it wouldn't take us to Callisto even if Earth
wasn't there. Arne—<i>what'll we do with this character?</i>"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Birkerod smiled. "I like the
suggestion you made when we discussed it before."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"I was just joking!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"No, I think it's the best
idea." He turned to Pappas, who flinched in spite of himself. "Look,
Nick, the Beldens have no chance of winning on Callisto. No chance. Men had to
learn to cooperate before they could get to the planets at all, and by this
time they've learned good and thoroughly. The individual who's out for himself
is an anachronism. You and the Beldens—a hundred years ago you'd have felt
right at home. Then everybody was 'out for a fast buck,' as they used to say.
In this century everybody works together, and darn near everybody likes it that
way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"But, Nick, the Beldens are still
dangerous. They can't win; but they can hold up the development of Callisto for
years, and make the Callistans plenty miserable in the process. The inner
planets won't interfere. Their policy for years has been this: Callisto is so
far away that it's their concern how they run things; we'll send them supplies,
they'll send us minerals, and that's that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"So the people of Callisto have
got to lick the Beldens. This ship is absolutely essential, because it's the
means of breaking the Beldens' monopoly. We have to get to Callisto, and when
we get there we'll be in the middle of a pretty critical situation; the <i>Tang</i> will
be just as essential to the Beldens as to us, for the opposite reason."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Therefore," Garcia put in,
"we can't afford to have you around."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"What are you going to do?"
Pappas murmured.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"To you?" said Birkerod.
"Well, we can't take you with us; we don't want to kill you if we can help
it; we can't turn you loose in the lifeboat, even if we keep most of the fuel,
because we may need the lifeboat on Callisto. There's one thing left.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"If it's all right with Yusuf,
we're going to put you altogether, completely on your own. You're not going to
be working for anybody else, not even for stinkers like the Beldens. You're
going to be all by yourself, and you're going to have to do a good job of
looking out for yourself. Not for anyone else, just for Nick Pappas—'Number
One,' as people used to say. We're not going to give you a word of advice,
either. If we did, you wouldn't be independent enough. How does it sound,
Yusuf? Appropriate?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Garcia smiled. "Sounds about
right, Arne. Maybe I'm too angry at the Beldens to think straight, but it
sounds like a pretty appropriate way to handle Mr. Pappas. He'll be all on his
own, and if he doesn't work things out just right—he'll get the most
spectacular finish any individualist could ask for!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9jnMFhF0aOQbPyfX1AmDQdDvYtNTxph4LM9ipfXx0DorgSdTyV2Irh1dbo2fIHu6j6zQyIC1qKGDEqqlsQUE3pDf-nBHbYKWilbm67EilIfdrh5sRPbNL59f1myAmiFkGlwq_SXgY9zs2RhHsOj8vy4fk9dv95Krh6bHS-0TcBzTX5g-e_FinlYJfkU/s530/Screenshot%202024-01-06%20151523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="530" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9jnMFhF0aOQbPyfX1AmDQdDvYtNTxph4LM9ipfXx0DorgSdTyV2Irh1dbo2fIHu6j6zQyIC1qKGDEqqlsQUE3pDf-nBHbYKWilbm67EilIfdrh5sRPbNL59f1myAmiFkGlwq_SXgY9zs2RhHsOj8vy4fk9dv95Krh6bHS-0TcBzTX5g-e_FinlYJfkU/w640-h540/Screenshot%202024-01-06%20151523.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Nick Pappas hung weightless in
interplanetary space.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Ten meters away floated the <i>Tang
Chuh-Chih</i>. One side of it glared white in the sunlight, the other side was
jet black, visible only as a shadow across the stars. It floated there
motionless, very close to him, but he knew he didn't dare to try to reach it,
because it was going to start accelerating any second.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The faceplate of Pappas's spacesuit
fogged slightly; he moved a hand inside the suit, adjusted the humidity
control. When the faceplate had cleared, he saw that the <i>Tang's</i> rockets
were already firing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The ship still floated there, within
shouting distance if there had been an atmosphere; but now from its jets there
extended long, perfectly straight streaks of shimmering blue-violet. It seemed
to Pappas as though he was drifting slowly parallel to the ship, in the
direction of the jets. He shook his head to get rid of the illusion. He was
remaining perfectly still, the ship's hull was sliding past him. When the jets
were abreast of him, they cut off. He watched the ship receding, rapidly now. A
minute or so later there were two short blasts on the steering jets; Pappas
realized they were swinging the ship around so he wouldn't be caught in the
rocket blast. Then the main jets started up again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pappas followed the ship with his eyes
as long as he could distinguish it—which wasn't long. Then, he was <i>alone</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Not only were there no walls around
him, there wasn't even anything under his feet. There was nothing, anywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"So this was what all that talk
added up to," Pappas thought. "They simply set me out here in the
middle of the vacuum to stay until the suit's food and air give out."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He thought he might as well make
himself at home. He checked over the suit. It was nicely equipped. In addition
to standard items, there were several things strapped onto the back of the suit
on the outside which pleased him until he realized how little difference they
made: There was a reel of light, strong cable with magnetic grapples which
could be clamped onto it. There was a hand reaction motor the size of a
Stillson wrench, and ten containers of fuel, each the size of a fountain pen.
There was a large mirror, for signaling. Also for the same purpose, there was a
powerful, highly directional searchlight. He checked the cells which powered
it; they were low, but he knew they were charging at that moment from the
sunlight falling on them. The searchlight would work. For what that was worth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">So much for his suit. Next, where was
he? His position couldn't be given in latitude and longitude, because there
wasn't anything for it to be latitude and longitude <i>on</i>. He was
somewhere between the orbits of Venus and Earth. The direction of the Sun he
could tell by glancing at the arm of his spacesuit and seeing where the
sunlight fell—the Sun was behind him and to the right, and a little
"downward."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">As for the Earth, that would be the
next brightest body in his sky. He craned his head in all directions, searching.
Then he took out the hand reaction motor and gave a blast to start himself
spinning, so he could search in the directions he hadn't been able to see in
before. Even the short blast he used made the motor tug at his hand and started
the universe whirling around him frighteningly. He turned the control on the
motor down as low as it would go, then pressed the button several more times.
Finally he had canceled out most of his rotation, and the Milky Way was
wheeling calmly about him. He got himself oriented again and after a short time
had identified Earth, which was close enough to appear as a blue-green disk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Earth! A thought suddenly struck him.
The <i>Tang</i> had been heading straight for Earth when it had let
him off; he was still going exactly in the <i>Tang's</i> former
orbit. He would reach Earth! There was one more thing he should check—yes, he
had a parachute. It was on the back of his spacesuit, underneath the gear he'd
investigated before. Now if he could land safely he was all set! Birkerod and
Garcia must not have thought of this.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">One thing still bothered him: He had
been headed for Earth when he was put off the <i>Tang</i>, but had
anything happened since to put him off course? How about those times he'd used
the reaction motor to set himself spinning? Well, the several small blasts
would probably not have had any net effect on his direction of motion, and if
they had there wasn't anything to be done about it. But the single strong blast
at the beginning—he could remember which constellation he'd been facing at the
time, where he'd held the reaction motor, and how strong a blast he'd given.
That meant he could give an approximately equal blast now in the opposite
direction. This he did, being careful to aim directly away from his center of
gravity, so as not to start spinning again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Now he should be back on course, he
figured. Assuming, that is, that he'd ever been off. The small thrust of his
reaction motor, applied for such a short time, might not be enough to make any
appreciable difference as to where he ended up. He didn't bother trying to
calculate it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Nothing to do now but wait. He spent
the time thinking about what he'd do when he got to Earth. It was hard to
figure. He'd had a racket on Earth for the year-and-a-half after the Beldens
brought him there; everyone had assumed he was doing something important to
Callisto's welfare, and all he'd had to do was go through the motions. Now, he
didn't know. It was probably true that the Beldens were through; with the <i>Tang
Chuh-Chih</i> arriving on Callisto, the odds were against them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He'd have to find something else,
Pappas decided. This whole Belden business was pretty provincial, anyway. And
as for Birkerod, Garcia, and those people—! Pappas dismissed Callisto from his
thoughts completely. There would have to be some angle on the inner planets.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">After several hours of thought on the
subject, he took stock of his situation again. The disk of Earth was a little
larger, he thought, but not enough so you'd notice it. He pulled the
semi-opaque visor over his faceplate and went to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He slept for ten days.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Not Earth days, however. When Pappas
went to sleep the Sun was behind him. He thought he had eliminated his
rotation, but actually he was tumbling head over heels, extremely slowly. Thus,
for him, the Sun rose between his feet and set directly "above" him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The eleventh of these
"sunrises" woke him. He stayed awake, because as soon as he flipped
his visor up and looked around him the Earth caught his eye. It was much
closer. He did not know how to measure its angular diameter, so he couldn't
calculate his distance from it even approximately, but it <i>looked</i> enormous.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">How long had his nap lasted? The
spacesuit's chronometer was running. Its minute hand indicated 37; its hour
hand, 15; its day hand, 3. That would have told him how long he'd slept, if
he'd read the chronometer before he went to sleep; but he hadn't. All he knew
was that he'd slept much longer than he'd expected, and long enough to get
painfully stiff.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">In any case, he'd covered a lot of
distance. As much as the <i>Tang</i> would have covered in the same
time, he realized. He was approaching Earth pretty fast.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"<i>Too</i> fast," he
added aloud, nervously. He'd have to decelerate before he got there or the
parachute wouldn't do him any good. Now, was it time yet to start decelerating?
If he directed the hand reaction motor in the wrong direction now, could it
cause him to miss Earth? He guessed not: the planet looked so close, any small
"sidewise" push he gave himself could hardly hurt. Once he killed his
speed, Earth's gravitational field would gather him in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pappas took out the reaction motor.
Using low power, he turned himself till he faced Earth. The planet seemed to
have swelled just in the time since he'd waked up. He set the reaction motor to
full power, grasped it with both hands, held it in front of his chest, and
pointed it straight at Earth. Then he pressed the button and held it down.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The force of the hand jet pushed in at
his midriff, made his legs and head swing forward. Well, that was okay as long
as they didn't get into the exhaust. He stopped blasting a moment to get a
better grip on the reaction motor, then fired continuously. Occasionally he
would find he'd started himself spinning; then he'd shift the motor just a
trifle to keep himself facing the planet. He kept the button firmly pressed
down, and the cylinder in his hands sent a continuous jet of intense blue
toward Earth. When the first fuel cartridge was exhausted, he put in the second
and kept it up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Twice he stopped for a food pellet and
a little water. The rests were welcome: his arms and chest were stiff and
aching. But he didn't rest long, because he was getting really scared now. He
was sure he was dangerously close to his destination, and his speed hadn't been
cut enough. The continents and oceans of Earth's day side were clearly visible,
and grew noticeably larger as he looked at them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He now thought of the direction he was
going as <i>down</i>; he thought of himself as <i>falling</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Something bothered him: America had not
been in sight a while ago, but now he could see a corner of Brazil appearing at
the edge of the disk of Earth. Did that mean he was passing by Earth instead of
falling straight at it? No, he realized in a moment, it just meant Earth was
rotating; for he could see that the sunset line, the line between night side
and day side, had not changed its apparent position on the disk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">No, he was still falling. And he
was <i>falling too fast</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">A suspicion began to form that Birkerod
and Garcia <i>had</i> anticipated this. And suddenly, terrifyingly,
he thought of what Garcia's last remark might have meant!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Still, they'd said there was a way he
could save himself. And the only way he could think of was to break his fall.
He had a certain quantity of fuel to do it with, and he was using it. He was
using it for all it was worth, no matter how much his body ached with fatigue.
If those two on the <i>Tang</i> had figured this all out ahead of
time, then they must have left him enough fuel to avoid being killed. Otherwise
they might as well have shot him on the <i>Tang</i>. Okay, if he had
enough fuel he'd use it all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 24.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 24.0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFv-pnW-7i6lkmzohqstWWJHm7zm1MxY3TxF8oKfLAMrELe1wjH709qUgLUPkyLz83A60amqXUjUYgKUt3ZkRMBD2fHDgeY7syxjxsSmIUO37bjRpgFrWSDKikiNWcz1L036KZ8MtmGgM0IbNT8kASdZqUOO3xOu7skBGrO-Q_7rC8uWdPeG8LOz7YHM/s532/Screenshot%202024-01-06%20151617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="532" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFv-pnW-7i6lkmzohqstWWJHm7zm1MxY3TxF8oKfLAMrELe1wjH709qUgLUPkyLz83A60amqXUjUYgKUt3ZkRMBD2fHDgeY7syxjxsSmIUO37bjRpgFrWSDKikiNWcz1L036KZ8MtmGgM0IbNT8kASdZqUOO3xOu7skBGrO-Q_7rC8uWdPeG8LOz7YHM/w640-h461/Screenshot%202024-01-06%20151617.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">One after another the fuel cartridges
burned out. Pappas longed for another rest, but he didn't dare take one now. He
kept firing, and still the Earth kept growing larger and brighter below him.
Finally, there was no more fuel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">After a short breather, Pappas took the
reaction motor, detached it from the cord which bound it to his spacesuit, and
flung it downward with all his strength. Then he did the same with the mirror,
the searchlight, and the reel of cable. It was all he could do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Then there was an instant when he saw
where he had gone wrong. He had not had enough fuel to do what he'd tried to
do. That was clear by one look at Earth's face, which still grew alarmingly
fast below him; and he could probably have figured it out before. But there had
been a way which <i>would</i> have given him some chance. He should
have used his fuel, not in a hopeless attempt to decelerate, but in deflecting
himself so he would miss Earth! He would have passed by Earth, relatively
close. He'd have passed fast, but not too fast to signal with his mirror to
Earth's several satellites, natural and artificial. The spaceports on those
satellites kept twenty-four-hour watches for signals of distress; when they saw
a faint blinking light they would send out a ship which would try to locate its
source. They were good at it, too, and if he'd kept his mirror spinning they
might have picked him up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">But he hadn't thought of it. It had
never occurred to him that even when he was alone, as thoroughly alone as anyone
can ever be, his life could depend on dozens of other people. He'd thought only
of reaching safety by himself. And, seeing only the one possibility, he'd
played it blindly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">There was that instant of sickening
realization, then a little later came an instant when Earth ballooned out
grotesquely below him, suddenly filling most of his field of vision, and he saw
lakes, islands, deserts. He felt all over him an abrupt, final flash of heat,
and <i>Nick Pappas became a meteor</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">END<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Louis Shalako <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Louis%20Shalako%22;jsessionid=A8A2A2441E714E3D02AA4D22BD4C8ABF.prodny_store02-atgap06?Ntk=P_key_Contributor_List&Ns=P_Sales_Rank&Ntx=mode+matchall" target="_blank">has books and stories available from Barnes
& Noble.</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Grab yourself a free ebook, for example, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Handbags-Inspector-Gilles-Maintenon-Mystery-ebook/dp/B004OL2XJW" target="_blank">The Handbag’s Tale,</a></i>
the short story that inspired The Inspector Gilles Maintenon Series.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He has <a href="https://bringerofrain.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">this other blog over here.</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chandler_Davis" target="_blank">More on Chan Davis,</a> hopefully we have the right guy here.
(Wiki)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Thank you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-80828146531269295522024-01-04T16:56:00.000-05:002024-01-04T16:56:23.898-05:00Double Cross. Frederick Pohl.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvIEoGfxEQxlWqaamXjczz2UMDmnFSvoD-LFs_ioQfly1VbHSlgU7rn_fM_uFG6iPGF1TH7eSzeix39_kMdWYx-T2CeEx9LlWIInpC0p746xNXqq-gSyGsHj5cmvKVebA92_XtWpm4HVsuwfkbCpy_0kygDofGGEldRzF_eYTjgTvEyxtsD3msbDn1Jw/s923/Warhol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="923" data-original-width="714" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvIEoGfxEQxlWqaamXjczz2UMDmnFSvoD-LFs_ioQfly1VbHSlgU7rn_fM_uFG6iPGF1TH7eSzeix39_kMdWYx-T2CeEx9LlWIInpC0p746xNXqq-gSyGsHj5cmvKVebA92_XtWpm4HVsuwfkbCpy_0kygDofGGEldRzF_eYTjgTvEyxtsD3msbDn1Jw/w496-h640/Warhol.jpg" width="496" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Officer of the Deck.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Frederick Pohl</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><b>Double Cross</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Revolt
was brewing on Venus, led by the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">descendant
of the first Earthmen to </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">land.
Svan was the leader making the final </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">plans—plotting
them a bit too well.</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Planet
Stories Winter 1944.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
Officer of the Deck was pleased as he returned to the main lock. There was no
reason why everything shouldn't have been functioning perfectly, of course, but
he was pleased to have it confirmed, all the same. The Executive Officer was
moodily smoking a cigarette in the open lock, staring out over the dank
Venusian terrain at the native town. He turned.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Everything
shipshape, I take it!" he commented.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
OD nodded. "I'll have a blank log if this keeps up," he said.
"Every man accounted for except the delegation, cargo stowed, drivers
ready to lift as soon as they come back."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
Exec tossed away his cigarette. "If they come back."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Is
there any question?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
Exec shrugged. "I don't know, Lowry," he said. "This is a funny
place. I don't trust the natives."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Lowry
lifted his eyebrows. "Oh? But after all, they're human beings, just like
us—"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Not
any more. Four or five generations ago they were. Lord, they don't even look
human any more. Those white, flabby skins—I don't like them."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Acclimation,"
Lowry said scientifically. "They had to acclimate themselves to Venus's
climate. They're friendly enough."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
Exec shrugged again. He stared at the wooden shacks that were the outskirts of
the native city, dimly visible through the ever-present Venusian mist. The
native guard of honor, posted a hundred yards from the Earth-ship, stood
stolidly at attention with their old-fashioned proton-rifles slung over their
backs. A few natives were gazing wonderingly at the great ship, but made no
move to pass the line of guards.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Of
course," Lowry said suddenly, "there's a minority who are afraid of
us. I was in town yesterday, and I talked with some of the natives. They think
there will be hordes of immigrants from Earth, now that we know Venus is
habitable. And there's some sort of a paltry underground group that is
spreading the word that the immigrants will drive the native Venusians—the
descendants of the first expedition, that is—right down into the mud.
Well—" he laughed—"maybe they will. After all, the fittest survive.
That's a basic law of—"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
annunciator over the open lock clanged vigorously, and a metallic voice rasped:
"Officer of the Deck! Post Number One! Instruments reports a spy ray
focused on the main lock!"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Lowry,
interrupted in the middle of a word, jerked his head back and stared
unbelievingly at the tell-tale next to the annunciator. Sure enough, it was
glowing red—might have been glowing for minutes. He snatched at the hand-phone
dangling from the wall, shouted into it. "Set up a screen! Notify the
delegation! Alert a landing party!" But even while he was giving orders,
the warning light flickered suddenly and went out. Stricken, Lowry turned to
the Exec.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
Executive Officer nodded gloomily. He said, "You see!"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You
see?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
clicked off the listening-machine and turned around. The five others in the
room looked apprehensive. "You see?" Svan repeated. "From their
own mouths you have heard it. The Council was right."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
younger of the two women sighed. She might have been beautiful, in spite of her
dead-white skin, if there had been a scrap of hair on her head. "Svan, I'm
afraid," she said. "Who are we to decide if this is a good thing? Our
parents came from Earth. Perhaps there will be trouble at first, if colonists
come, but we are of the same blood."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
laughed harshly. "They don't think so. You heard them. We are not
human any more. The officer said it."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
other woman spoke unexpectedly. "The Council was right," she agreed.
"Svan, what must we do?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
raised his hand, thoughtfully. "One moment. Ingra, do you still
object?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
younger woman shrank back before the glare in his eyes. She looked around at
the others, found them reluctant and uneasy, but visibly convinced by Svan.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"No,"
she said slowly. "I do not object."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"And
the rest of us? Does any of us object?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5uPMsxRdixhzcvbmklaYPzVIRhh_lkjbeevGDmxgysQBs6Zb6WEw3lrOD54J4cm_WGswE1-lzwCa-KHFIqq1I9eQLY41qFQQ5SFvjzXoMtydZzBBJczPiTxfCHFj-Oie_Nn0XI94i404CEl9uuDHy7PB-S_1L9fAvf1qy_OhqPnKS8RG6IyqYpixoHQ/s1610/77-41-11bt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1610" data-original-width="1229" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5uPMsxRdixhzcvbmklaYPzVIRhh_lkjbeevGDmxgysQBs6Zb6WEw3lrOD54J4cm_WGswE1-lzwCa-KHFIqq1I9eQLY41qFQQ5SFvjzXoMtydZzBBJczPiTxfCHFj-Oie_Nn0XI94i404CEl9uuDHy7PB-S_1L9fAvf1qy_OhqPnKS8RG6IyqYpixoHQ/w488-h640/77-41-11bt.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You heard them.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
eyed them, each in turn. There was a slow but unanimous gesture of assent.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Good,"
said Svan. "Then we must act. The Council has told us that we alone will
decide our course of action. We have agreed that, if the Earth-ship returns, it
means disaster for Venus. Therefore, it must not return."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">An
old man shifted restlessly. "But they are strong, Svan," he
complained. "They have weapons. We cannot force them to stay."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
nodded. "No. They will leave. But they will never get back to Earth."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Never
get back to Earth?" the old man gasped. "Has the Council
authorized—murder?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
shrugged. "The Council did not know what we would face. The Councilmen
could not come to the city and see what strength the Earth-ship has." He
paused dangerously. "Toller," he said, "do you object?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Like
the girl, the old man retreated before his eyes. His voice was dull. "What
is your plan?" he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
smiled, and it was like a dark flame. He reached to a box at his feet, held up
a shiny metal globe. "One of us will plant this in the ship. It will be
set by means of this dial—" he touched a spot on the surface of the globe
with a pallid finger—"to do nothing for forty hours. Then—it will explode.
Atomite."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
grinned triumphantly, looking from face to face. The grin faded uncertainly as
he saw what was in their eyes—uncertainty, irresolution. Abruptly he set the
bomb down, savagely ripped six leaves off a writing tablet on the table next
him. He took a pencil and made a mark on one of them, held it up.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We
will let chance decide who is to do the work," he said angrily. "Is
there anyone here who is afraid? There will be danger, I think...."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">No
answer. Svan jerked his head. "Good," he said. "Ingra, bring me
that bowl."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Silently
the girl picked up an opaque glass bowl from the broad arm of her chair. It had
held Venus-tobacco cigarettes; there were a few left. She shook them out and
handed the bowl to Svan, who was rapidly creasing the six fatal slips. He
dropped them in the bowl, stirred it with his hand, offered it to the girl.
"You first, Ingra," he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
reached in mechanically, her eyes intent on his, took out a slip and held it
without opening it. The bowl went the rounds, till Svan himself took the last.
All eyes were on him. No one had looked at their slips.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan,
too, had left his unopened. He sat at the table, facing them. "This is the
plan," he said. "We will go, all six of us, in my ground car, to look
at the Earth-ship. No one will suspect—the whole city has been to see it
already. One will get out, at the best point we can find. It is almost dusk
now. He can hide, surely, in the vegetation. The other five will start back.
Something will go wrong with the car—perhaps it will run off the road, start to
sink in the swamp. The guards will be called. There will be commotion—that is
easy enough, after all; a hysterical woman, a few screams, that's all there is
to it. And the sixth person will have his chance to steal to the side of the
ship. The bomb is magnetic. It will not be noticed in the dark—they will take
off before sunrise, because they must travel away from the sun to return—in
forty hours the danger is removed."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">There
was comprehension in their eyes, Svan saw ... but still that uncertainty.
Impatiently, he crackled: "Look at the slips!"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Though
he had willed his eyes away from it, his fingers had rebelled. Instinctively
they had opened the slip, turned it over and over, striving to detect if it was
the fatal one. They had felt nothing....<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
his eyes saw nothing. The slip was blank. He gave it but a second's glance,
then looked up to see who had won the lethal game of chance. Almost he was
disappointed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Each
of the others had looked in that same second. And each was looking up now,
around at his neighbors. Svan waited impatiently for the chosen one to announce
it—a second, ten seconds....<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then
gray understanding came to him. A traitor! his subconscious
whispered. A coward! He stared at them in a new light, saw their
indecision magnified, became opposition.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
thought faster than ever before in his life. If there was a coward, it would do
no good to unmask him. All were wavering, any might be the one who had drawn
the fatal slip. He could insist on inspecting every one, but—suppose the
coward, cornered, fought back? In fractions of a second, Svan had considered
the evidence and reached his decision. Masked by the table, his hand, still
holding the pencil, moved swiftly beneath the table, marked his own slip.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">In
the palm of his hand, Svan held up the slip he had just marked in secret. His
voice was very tired as he said, "I will plant the bomb."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
six conspirators in Svan's old ground car moved slowly along the main street of
the native town. Two Earth-ship sailors, unarmed except for deceptively
flimsy-looking pistols at their hips, stood before the entrance to the town's
Hall of Justice.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Good,"
said Svan, observing them. "The delegation is still here. We have ample
time."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
half turned in the broad front seat next to the driver, searching the faces of
the others in the car. Which was the coward? he wondered. Ingra? Her aunt? One
of the men?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
right answer leaped up at him. They all are, he thought. Not one of
them understands what this means. They're afraid.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
clamped his lips. "Go faster, Ingra," he ordered the girl who was
driving. "Let's get this done with."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">She
looked at him, and he was surprised to find compassion in her eyes. Silently
she nodded, advanced the fuel-handle so that the clumsy car jolted a trace more
rapidly over the corduroy road. It was quite dark now. The car's driving light
flared yellowishly in front of them, illuminating the narrow road and the pale,
distorted vegetation of the jungle that surrounded them. Svan noticed it was
raining a little. The present shower would deepen and intensify until midnight,
then fall off again, to halt before morning. But before then they would be
done.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">A
proton-bolt lanced across the road in front of them. In the silence that
followed its thunderous crash, a man's voice bellowed: "Halt!"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
girl, Ingra, gasped something indistinguishable, slammed on the brakes. A
Venusian in the trappings of the State Guard advanced on them from the side of
the road, proton-rifle held ready to fire again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Where
are you going?" he growled.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
spoke up. "We want to look at the Earth-ship," he said. He opened the
door beside him and stepped out, careless of the drizzle. "We heard it was
leaving tonight," he continued, "and we have not seen it. Is that not
permitted?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
guard shook his head sourly. "No one is allowed near the ship. The order
was just issued. It is thought there is danger."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
stepped closer, his teeth bared in what passed for a smile. "It is
urgent," he purred. His right hand flashed across his chest in a
complicated gesture. "Do you understand?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Confusion
furrowed the guard's hairless brows, then was replaced by a sudden flare of
understanding—and fear. "The Council!" he roared. "By heaven,
yes, I understand! You are the swine that caused this—" He strove
instinctively to bring the clumsy rifle up, but Svan was faster. His gamble had
failed; there was only one course remaining. He hurled his gross white bulk at
the guard, bowled him over against the splintery logs of the road. The
proton-rifle went flying, and Svan savagely tore at the throat of the guard.
Knees, elbows and claw-like nails—Svan battered at the astonished man with
every ounce of strength in his body. The guard was as big as Svan, but Svan had
the initial advantage ... and it was only a matter of seconds before the guard
lay unconscious, his skull a mass of gore at the back where Svan had ruthlessly
pounded it against the road.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
rose, panting, stared around. No one else was in sight, save the petrified five
and the ground car. Svan glared at them contemptuously, then reached down and
heaved on the senseless body of the guard. Over the shoulder of the road the body
went, onto the damp swampland of the jungle. Even while Svan watched the body
began to sink. There would be no trace.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
strode back to the car. "Hurry up," he gasped to the girl. "Now
there is danger for all of us, if they discover he is missing. And keep a watch
for other guards."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAU0A_7-D6Kd4jc2acXgN0UmdL7nnjN94vRHDB6VvA2VgxJI1fqgxsMNug_OrdpCDRZELRHA3Rm8YZI0XdqDYYfKAK3FIv3Lr1D3hehbMlqUYbmm4A68MBS8v_PBy5DZ8kiA_ybU9cILvx7NFCqHzGrZ-YnQMNzAGZFP38VEf4g-AkySrMaYpi1fHkdLs/s612/4c067f7ecdd2f83ed965904eaf65bda5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAU0A_7-D6Kd4jc2acXgN0UmdL7nnjN94vRHDB6VvA2VgxJI1fqgxsMNug_OrdpCDRZELRHA3Rm8YZI0XdqDYYfKAK3FIv3Lr1D3hehbMlqUYbmm4A68MBS8v_PBy5DZ8kiA_ybU9cILvx7NFCqHzGrZ-YnQMNzAGZFP38VEf4g-AkySrMaYpi1fHkdLs/w640-h426/4c067f7ecdd2f83ed965904eaf65bda5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuck. No moon.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Venus
has no moon, and no star can shine through its vast cloud layer. Ensign Lowry,
staring anxiously out through the astro-dome in the bow of the Earth-ship,
cursed the blackness.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Can't
see a thing," he complained to the Exec, steadily writing away at the
computer's table. "Look—are those lights over there?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
Exec looked up wearily. He shrugged. "Probably the guards. Of course, you
can't tell. Might be a raiding party."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Lowry,
stung, looked to see if the Exec was smiling, but found no answer in his stolid
face. "Don't joke about it," he said. "Suppose something happens
to the delegation?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Then
we're in the soup," the Exec said philosophically. "I told you the
natives were dangerous. Spy-rays! They've been prohibited for the last three
hundred years."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It
isn't all the natives," Lowry said. "Look how they've doubled the
guard around us. The administration is co-operating every way they know how.
You heard the delegation's report on the intercom. It's this secret group they
call the Council."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"And
how do you know the guards themselves don't belong to it?" the Exec
retorted. "They're all the same to me.... Look, your light's gone out now.
Must have been the guard. They're on the wrong side to be coming from the town,
anyhow...."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
hesitated only a fraction of a second after the girl turned the lights out and
stopped the car. Then he reached in the compartment under the seat. If he took
a little longer than seemed necessary to get the atomite bomb out of the compartment,
none of the others noticed. Certainly it did not occur to them that there had
been two bombs in the compartment, though Svan's hand emerged with
only one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
got out of the car, holding the sphere. "This will do for me," he
said. "They won't be expecting anyone to come from behind the ship—we were
wise to circle around. Now, you know what you must do?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Ingra
nodded, while the others remained mute. "We must circle back again,"
she parroted. "We are to wait five minutes, then drive the car into the swamp.
We will create a commotion, attract the guards."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan,
listening, thought: It's not much of a plan. The guards would not be drawn
away. I am glad I can't trust these five any more. If they must be destroyed,
it is good that their destruction will serve a purpose.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Aloud,
he said, "You understand. If I get through, I will return to the city on
foot. No one will suspect anything if I am not caught, because the bomb will
not explode until the ship is far out in space. Remember, you are in no danger
from the guards."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">From
the guards, his mind echoed. He smiled. At least, they would feel no pain,
never know what happened. With the amount of atomite in that bomb in the
compartment, they would merely be obliterated in a ground-shaking crash.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Abruptly
he swallowed, reminded of the bomb that was silently counting off the seconds.
"Go ahead," he ordered. "I will wait here."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Svan."
The girl, Ingra, leaned over to him. Impulsively she reached for him, kissed
him. "Good luck to you, Svan," she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Good
luck," repeated the others. Then silently the electric motor of the car
took hold. Skilfully the girl backed it up, turned it around, sent it lumbering
back down the road. Only after she had traveled a few hundred feet by the feel
of the road did she turn the lights on again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
looked after them. The kiss had surprised him. What did it mean? Was it an
error that the girl should die with the others?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">There
was an instant of doubt in his steel-shackled mind, then it was driven away.
Perhaps she was loyal, yet certainly she was weak. And since he could not know
which was the one who had received the marked slip, and feared to admit it, it
was better they all should die.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
advanced along the midnight road to where the ground rose and the jungle plants
thinned out. Ahead, on an elevation, were the rain-dimmed lights of the
Earth-ship, set down in the center of a clearing made by its own fierce
rockets. Svan's mist-trained eyes spotted the circling figures of sentries, and
knew that these would be the ship's own. They would not be as easily overcome
as the natives, not with those slim-shafted blasters they carried. Only deceit
could get him to the side of the ship.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Svan
settled himself at the side of the road, waiting for his chance. He had perhaps
three minutes to wait; he reckoned. His fingers went absently to the pouch in
his wide belt, closed on the slip of paper. He turned it over without looking
at it, wondering who had drawn the first cross, and been a coward. Ingra? One
of the men?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nnN-bT0nfieSgTGMVYSnP4UcdQzYTzXSfgEI2b62qw6hBtVObQcWNVYPe1v7rOjJxjRgkCgOMCsI-KZBbbtTMm6jszvfGGQhrBHyplW4Yi8gQhFMkawkgaqv9O4aGPSO8mXF_SzmYzwj56dZNHqRNstXKxK-yBfmKelPJCn6hNvRaRTFUIO9TstFDb8/s1024/1024px-Yoshiki_Hayashi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="1024" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nnN-bT0nfieSgTGMVYSnP4UcdQzYTzXSfgEI2b62qw6hBtVObQcWNVYPe1v7rOjJxjRgkCgOMCsI-KZBbbtTMm6jszvfGGQhrBHyplW4Yi8gQhFMkawkgaqv9O4aGPSO8mXF_SzmYzwj56dZNHqRNstXKxK-yBfmKelPJCn6hNvRaRTFUIO9TstFDb8/w400-h370/1024px-Yoshiki_Hayashi.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The attack of the androgynous androids.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
became abruptly conscious of a commotion behind him. A ground car was racing
along the road. He spun around and was caught in the glare of its blinding
driving-light, as it bumped to a slithering stop.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Paralyzed,
he heard the girl's voice. "Svan! They're coming! They found the guard's
rifle, and they're looking for us! Thirty Earthmen, Svan, with those frightful
guns. They fired at us, but we got away and came for you. We must flee!"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He
stared unseeingly at the light. "Go away!" he croaked unbelievingly.
Then his muscles jerked into action. The time was almost up—the bomb in the
car—<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Go
away!" he shrieked, and turned to run. His fists clenched and swinging at
his side, he made a dozen floundering steps before something immense pounded at
him from behind. He felt himself lifted from the road, sailing, swooping,
dropping with annihilating force onto the hard, charred earth of the clearing.
Only then did he hear the sound of the explosion, and as the immense echoes
died away he began to feel the pain seeping into him from his hideously racked
body....<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
Flight Surgeon rose from beside him. "He's still alive," he said
callously to Lowry, who had just come up. "It won't last long, though.
What've you got there?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Lowry,
a bewildered expression on his beardless face, held out the two halves of a
metallic sphere. Dangling ends of wires showed where a connection had been
broken. "He had a bomb," he said. "A magnetic-type,
delayed-action atomite bomb. There must have been another in the car, and it
went off. They—they were planning to bomb us."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Amazing,"
the surgeon said dryly. "Well, they won't do any bombing now."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Lowry
was staring at the huddled, mutilated form of Svan. He shuddered. The surgeon,
seeing the shudder, grasped his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Better
them than us," he said. "It's poetic justice if I ever saw it. They
had it coming...." He paused thoughtfully, staring at a piece of paper
between his fingers. "This is the only part I don't get," he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What's
that?" Lowry craned his neck. "A piece of paper with a cross on it?
What about it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
surgeon shrugged. "He had it clenched in his hand," he said.
"Had the devil of a time getting it loose from him." He turned it
over slowly, displayed the other side. "Now what in the world would he be
doing carrying a scrap of paper with a cross marked on both sides?"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3XxMm0-jb5XHOnmnUvGZHUJfnXaYnN44vNhDWzHbt2mqtboZZVRuRvO4lUJ19wjhmqAhZJUhxkpClOv62EMJOu0XfnhbTIWS1_tDuoAE4sE9P7mAPXKEBRzdU-oBIadF1R3uZIn_2irJJxIYVdNy7UeL9op4RZnG5-FvGwmrh7AfmbtQbOSD46LnsbEs/s678/images%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="678" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3XxMm0-jb5XHOnmnUvGZHUJfnXaYnN44vNhDWzHbt2mqtboZZVRuRvO4lUJ19wjhmqAhZJUhxkpClOv62EMJOu0XfnhbTIWS1_tDuoAE4sE9P7mAPXKEBRzdU-oBIadF1R3uZIn_2irJJxIYVdNy7UeL9op4RZnG5-FvGwmrh7AfmbtQbOSD46LnsbEs/s320/images%20(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frederick Pohl.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Books-Louis-Shalako/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ALouis+Shalako" target="_blank">books and stories available from Amazon.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Here <a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" target="_blank">he is on ArtPal.</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">See
his <a href="https://superdough.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">#superdough blog</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Grab
a free ebook here. <i><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank">One Million Words of Crap, </a></i>from Google Play.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">For
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederik_Pohl" target="_blank">more on Frederick Pohl, see the Wikipedia article.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-38527221245335597372024-01-03T16:06:00.003-05:002024-01-03T16:06:51.773-05:00Misunderstood. P.G. Wodehouse.<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20nJYxMTdK3t1bz-r_iOabcZmEDQlCfwpzZpZJ-eV8YU7Gzts5tysHp2KI3NVZb-cdD9Hje-hwf_zACO-R-5NJ2RQPZg_bT5OEojvsKzpoI_Fg3iNoMqZza-c0Xu-DvCDE4OcKxY4_0WYENaq2q0zhyy2LXQljYPnpxsQ3__Nj3l1z0T67Y-cIWWVOgM/s609/herbert-ellis-mugshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="496" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20nJYxMTdK3t1bz-r_iOabcZmEDQlCfwpzZpZJ-eV8YU7Gzts5tysHp2KI3NVZb-cdD9Hje-hwf_zACO-R-5NJ2RQPZg_bT5OEojvsKzpoI_Fg3iNoMqZza-c0Xu-DvCDE4OcKxY4_0WYENaq2q0zhyy2LXQljYPnpxsQ3__Nj3l1z0T67Y-cIWWVOgM/w522-h640/herbert-ellis-mugshot.jpg" width="522" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James 'Spider' Buffin.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">P.G. Wodehouse</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
profession of Mr. James ("Spider") Buffin was pocket-picking. His
hobby was revenge. James had no objection to letting the sun go down on his
wrath. Indeed, it was after dark that he corrected his numerous enemies most
satisfactorily. It was on a dark night, while he was settling a small score
against one Kelly, a mere acquaintance, that he first fell foul of Constable
Keating, whose beat took him through the regions which James most frequented.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>James, having "laid for" Mr. Kelly,
met him in a murky side-street down<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Clerkenwell
way, and attended to his needs with a sand-bag.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was here that Constable Keating first came
prominently into his life. Just as James, with the satisfying feeling that his
duty had been done, was preparing to depart, Officer Keating, who had been a
distant spectator of the affair, charged up and seized him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was intolerable that he should interfere
in a purely private falling-out between one gentleman and another, but there
was nothing to be done. The policeman weighed close upon fourteen stone, and
could have eaten Mr. Buffin. The latter, inwardly seething, went quietly, and
in due season was stowed away at the Government's expense for the space of
sixty days.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Physically, there is no doubt that his
detention did him good. The regular hours and the substitution of bread and
water for his wonted diet improved his health thirty per cent. It was mentally
that he suffered. His was one of those just-as-good cheap-substitute minds,
incapable of harbouring more than one idea at a time, and during those sixty
days of quiet seclusion it was filled with an ever-growing resentment against
Officer Keating. Every day, as he moved about his appointed tasks, he brooded
on his wrongs. Every night was to him but the end of another day that kept him
from settling down to the serious business of Revenge. To be haled to prison
for correcting a private enemy with a sand-bag—that was what stung. In the
privacy of his cell he dwelt unceasingly on the necessity for revenge. The thing
began to take on to him the aspect almost of a Holy Mission, a sort of Crusade.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>* * * * *<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The days slipped by, bringing winter to
Clerkenwell, and with it Mr. Buffin. He returned to his old haunts one Friday
night, thin but in excellent condition. One of the first acquaintances he met
was Officer Keating. The policeman, who had a good memory for faces, recognised
him, and stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"So you're out, young feller?" he
said genially. When not in the active discharge of his professional duties the
policeman was a kindly man. He bore Mr. Buffin no grudge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Um," said Mr. Buffin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Feeling fine, eh?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Um."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Goin' round to see some of the chaps
and pass them the time of day, I shouldn't wonder?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Um."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Well, you keep clear of that lot down
in Frith Street, young feller. They're no good. And if you get mixed up with
them, first thing you know, you'll be in trouble again. And you want to keep
out of that now."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Um."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"If you never get into trouble,"
said the policeman sententiously, "you'll never have to get out of
it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Um," said Mr. Buffin. If he had a
fault as a conversationalist, it was a certain tendency to monotony, a certain
lack of sparkle and variety in his small-talk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Constable Keating, with a dignified but
friendly wave of the hand, as one should say, "You have our leave to
depart," went on his way; while Mr. Buffin, raging, shuffled off in the
opposite direction, thinking as hard as his limited mental equipment would
allow him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His thoughts, which were many and confused,
finally composed themselves into some order. He arrived at a definite
conclusion, which was that if the great settlement was to be carried through
successfully it must be done when the policeman was off duty. Till then he had
pictured himself catching Officer Keating in an unguarded moment on his beat.
This, he now saw, was out of the question. On his beat the policeman had no
unguarded moments. There was a quiet alertness in his poise, a danger-signal in
itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CUm2Kzmw11Vb9cDsrfLd9aZNZeEpZ-7dk7nI4bAO4kEJ2n8bhnSLJ5cVua8-BO-2P1QqpcQH9DkKTFOzs99kHkeZzDQbDs6XrzzUU2GxehUoBNNNtLUPn4GBvGICJl7nulHFPiHxT1yD1wTVnSwnjkr0kJfuWbGig6mRkivTxMCEddrfvi7DSNLHUj0/s300/HughLaurie-BertieWooster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="300" height="525" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CUm2Kzmw11Vb9cDsrfLd9aZNZeEpZ-7dk7nI4bAO4kEJ2n8bhnSLJ5cVua8-BO-2P1QqpcQH9DkKTFOzs99kHkeZzDQbDs6XrzzUU2GxehUoBNNNtLUPn4GBvGICJl7nulHFPiHxT1yD1wTVnSwnjkr0kJfuWbGig6mRkivTxMCEddrfvi7DSNLHUj0/w640-h525/HughLaurie-BertieWooster.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You've got to butter him up, sir. I mean, like be nice to him."</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was only one thing for Mr. Buffin to
do. Greatly as it would go against the grain, he must foregather with the man,
win his confidence, put himself in a position where he would be able to find
out what he did with himself when off duty.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The policeman offered no obstacle to the
move. A supreme self-confidence was his leading characteristic. Few London
policemen are diffident, and Mr. Keating was no exception. It never occurred to
him that there could be an ulterior motive behind Mr. Buffin's advances. He
regarded Mr. Buffin much as one regards a dog which one has had to chastise.
One does not expect the dog to lie in wait and bite. Officer Keating did not
expect Mr. Buffin to lie in wait and bite.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So every day, as he strolled on his beat,
there sidled up to him the meagre form of Spider Buffin. Every day there
greeted him the Spider's "Good-morning, Mr. Keating," till the sight
of Officer Keating walking solidly along the pavement with Spider Buffin
shuffling along at his side, listening with rapt interest to his views on Life
and his hints on Deportment, became a familiar spectacle in Clerkenwell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>* * * * *<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Buffin played his part well. In fact, too
well. It was on the seventh day that, sidling along in the direction of his
favourite place of refreshment, he found himself tapped on the shoulder. At the
same moment an arm, linking itself in his, brought him gently to a halt. Beside
him were standing two of the most eminent of the great Frith Street Gang, Otto
the Sausage and Rabbit Butler. It was the finger of the Rabbit that had tapped
his shoulder. The arm tucked in his was the arm of Otto the Sausage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Hi, Spider," said Mr. Butler,
"Sid wants to see you a minute."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Spider's legs felt boneless. There was
nothing in the words to alarm a man, but his practised ear had seemed to detect
a certain unpleasant dryness in the speaker's tone. Sid Marks, the all-powerful
leader of the Frith Street Gang, was a youth whose company the Spider had
always avoided with some care.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The great Sid, seated in state at a
neighbouring hostelry, fixed his visitor with a cold and questioning eye. Mr.
Buffin looked nervous and interrogative. Mr. Marks spoke.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Your pal Keating pinched Porky Binns
this mornin'," said Sid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Spider's heart turned to water.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You and that slop," observed Sid
dreamily, "have been bloomin' thick these days."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Buffin did not affect to misunderstand.
Sid Marks was looking at him in that nasty way. Otto the Sausage was looking at
him in that nasty way. Rabbit Butler was looking at him in that nasty way. This
was an occasion where manly frankness was the quality most to be aimed at. To
be misunderstood in the circles in which Mr. Buffin moved meant something more
than the mere risk of being treated with cold displeasure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He began to explain with feverish eagerness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Strike me, Sid," he stammered,
"it ain't like that. It's all right. Blimey, you don't fink I'm a
nark?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Marks chewed a straw in silence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I'm layin' for him, Sid," babbled
Mr. Buffin. "That's true. Strike me if it ain't. I'm just tryin' to find
out where he goes when he's off duty. He pinched me, so I'm layin' for
him."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Marks perpended. Rabbit Butler
respectfully gave it as his opinion that it would be well to put Mr. Buffin
through it. There was nothing like being on the safe side. By putting Mr. Buffin
through it, argued Rabbit Butler, they would stand to win either way. If
he had "smitched" to Officer Keating about Porky Binns he
would deserve it. If he had not—well, it would prevent him doing so on some
future occasion. Play for safety, was Mr. Butler's advice, seconded by Otto the
Sausage. Mr. Buffin, pale to the lips, thought he had never met two more
unpleasant persons.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisiladYEx4O6KyVapBNovxavXnHRXGikW-FKzMfD56jGKCgMyZR9WK8Z0KIRonoVNO8Y2xAd6Ca-UdT8aDGt-nuCJPVyb7dbgtZhGRTUG0PmRZZbKIFbldTHXYb0-UdeWpR4WPpvOcX7CfhPPE8EozELtTZ8BKQzxGxoz-bakHi6QIhQEqUzwi0PcPd7A/s923/6a00e554e97d5c8834011570ec63c1970b-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="923" data-original-width="745" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisiladYEx4O6KyVapBNovxavXnHRXGikW-FKzMfD56jGKCgMyZR9WK8Z0KIRonoVNO8Y2xAd6Ca-UdT8aDGt-nuCJPVyb7dbgtZhGRTUG0PmRZZbKIFbldTHXYb0-UdeWpR4WPpvOcX7CfhPPE8EozELtTZ8BKQzxGxoz-bakHi6QIhQEqUzwi0PcPd7A/w516-h640/6a00e554e97d5c8834011570ec63c1970b-800wi.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"It's just that The Sausage has been asking about you, Spider. Nothin' personal."</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Great Sid, having chewed his straw for a
while in silence, delivered judgment. The prisoner should have the benefit of
the doubt this time. His story, however unplausible, might possibly be true.
Officer Keating undoubtedly had pinched him. That was in his favour.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You can hop it this time," he
said, "but if you ever do start smitchin', Spider, yer knows what'll
happen."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Buffin withdrew, quaking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matters had now come to a head. Unless he
very speedily gave proof of his pure and noble intentions, life would become
extremely unsafe for him. He must act at once. The thought of what would happen
should another of the Frith Streeters be pinched before he, Mr. Buffin, could
prove himself innocent of the crime of friendliness with Officer Keating,
turned him cold.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fate played into his hands. On the very next
morning Mr. Keating, all unsuspecting, asked him to go to his home with a
message for his wife.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Tell her," said Mr. Keating,
"a newspaper gent has given me seats for the play to-night, and I'll be
home at a quarter to seven."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Buffin felt as Cromwell must have felt at
Dunbar when the Scots left their stronghold on the hills and came down to the
open plain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The winter had set in with some severity that
year, and Mr. Buffin's toes, as he stood in the shadows close to the entrance
of the villa where Officer Keating lived when off duty, were soon thoroughly
frozen. He did not dare to stamp his feet, for at any moment now the victim
might arrive. And when the victim weighs fourteen stone, against the high
priest's eight and a half, it behooves the latter to be circumspect, if the
sacrifice is to be anything like a success. So Mr. Buffin waited and froze in
silence. It was a painful process, and he added it to the black score which
already stood against Officer Keating. Never had his thirst for revenge been
more tormenting. It is doubtful if a strictly logical and impartial judge would
have held Mr. Keating to blame for the fact that Sid Marks' suspicions (and all
that those suspicions entailed) had fallen upon Mr. Buffin; but the Spider did
so. He felt fiercely resentful against the policeman for placing him in such an
unpleasant and dangerous position. As his thoughts ran on the matter, he
twisted his fingers tighter round his stick.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he did so there came from down the road
the brisk tramp of feet and a cheerful whistling of "The Wearing of the
Green." It is a lugubrious song as a rule, but, as rendered by Officer
Keating returning home with theatre tickets, it had all the joyousness of a
march-tune.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every muscle in Mr. Buffin's body stiffened.
He gripped his stick and waited. The road was deserted. In another moment….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then, from nowhere, dark indistinct forms
darted out like rats. The whistling stopped in the middle of a bar. A
deep-chested oath rang out, and then a confused medley of sound, the rasping of
feet, a growling almost canine, a sharp yelp, gasps, and over all the vast
voice of Officer Keating threatening slaughter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a moment Mr. Buffin stood incapable of
motion. The thing had been so sudden, so unexpected. And then, as he realised
what was happening, there swept over him in a wave a sense of intolerable
injustice. It is not easy to describe his emotions, but they resembled most
nearly those of an inventor whose patent has been infringed, or an author whose
idea has been stolen. For weeks—and weeks that had seemed like years—he had
marked down Officer Keating for his prey. For weeks he had tortured a mind all
unused to thinking into providing him with schemes for accomplishing his end.
He had outraged his nature by being civil to a policeman. He had risked his
life by incurring the suspicions of Sid Marks. He had bought a stick. And he
had waited in the cold till his face was blue and his feet blocks of ice. And
now … now … after all this … a crowd of irresponsible strangers, with
no rights in the man whatsoever probably, if the truth were known, filled with
mere ignoble desire for his small change, had dared to rush in and jump his
claim before his very eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjJCSXxyzFvSJEyJtrmYvKPqSiyaOB0AWhqaRivVYcHCAPwaJX0YZBOKeyc4WuEjEHWkhPta9X-zxFuOaUmJ3-IQP2SnFZv1XvYotfrHGeanSv5NNXLyauVRBZc3t8a6aVmGJ4zsaUjqZzExr7H4sevnEsff1M5cLoIddpk4qOfuzqICmAwt-D3yKkLI/s365/Flyingcircus_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="365" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjJCSXxyzFvSJEyJtrmYvKPqSiyaOB0AWhqaRivVYcHCAPwaJX0YZBOKeyc4WuEjEHWkhPta9X-zxFuOaUmJ3-IQP2SnFZv1XvYotfrHGeanSv5NNXLyauVRBZc3t8a6aVmGJ4zsaUjqZzExr7H4sevnEsff1M5cLoIddpk4qOfuzqICmAwt-D3yKkLI/s320/Flyingcircus_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spellbound by this fiendish plot...</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With one passionate cry, Mr. Buffin,
forgetting his frozen feet, lifted his stick, and galloped down the road to
protect his property….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"That's the stuff," said a voice.
"Pour some more into him, Jerry."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Buffin opened his eyes. A familiar taste
was in his mouth. Somebody of liberal ideas seemed to be pouring whisky down
his throat. Could this be Heaven? He raised his head, and a sharp pain shot
through it. And with the pain came recollection. He remembered now, dimly, as
if it had all happened in another life, the mad rush down the road, the
momentary pause in the conflict, and then its noisy renewal on a more
impressive scale. He remembered striking out left and right with his stick. He
remembered the cries of the wounded, the pain of his frozen feet, and finally
the crash of something hard and heavy on his head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat up, and found himself the centre of a
little crowd. There was Officer Keating, dishevelled but intact; three other
policemen, one of whom was kneeling by his side with a small bottle in his
hand; and, in the grip of the two were standing two youths.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One was Otto the Sausage; the other was
Rabbit Butler.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kneeling policeman was proffering the
bottle once more. Mr. Buffin snatched at it. He felt that it was just what at
that moment he needed most.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>* * * * *<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did what he could. The magistrate asked
for his evidence. He said he had none. He said he thought there must be some
mistake. With a twisted smile in the direction of the prisoners, he said that
he did not remember having seen either of them at the combat. He didn't believe
they were there at all. He didn't believe they were capable of such a thing. If
there was one man who was less likely to assault a policeman than Otto the
Sausage, it was Rabbit Butler. The Bench reminded him that both these innocents
had actually been discovered in Officer Keating's grasp. Mr. Buffin smiled a
harassed smile, and wiped a drop of perspiration from his brow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Officer Keating was enthusiastic. He
described the affair from start to finish. But for Mr. Buffin he would have
been killed. But for Mr. Buffin there would have been no prisoners in court
that day. The world was full of men with more or less golden hearts, but there
was only one Mr. Buffin. Might he shake hands with Mr. Buffin?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The magistrate ruled that he might. More, he
would shake hands with him himself. Summoning Mr. Buffin behind his desk, he
proceeded to do so. If there were more men like Mr. Buffin, London would be a
better place. It was the occasional discovery in our midst of ethereal natures
like that of Mr. Buffin which made one so confident for the future of the race.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The paragon shuffled out. It was bright and
sunny in the street, but in Mr. Buffin's heart there was no sunlight. He was
not a quick thinker, but he had come quite swiftly to the conclusion that
London was no longer the place for him. Sid Marks had been in court chewing a
straw and listening with grave attention to the evidence, and for one moment
Mr. Buffin had happened to catch his eye. No medical testimony as to the
unhealthiness of London could have moved him more.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjucvlIfZ678yDi4fVWKTCVre6TBzXAh6GQ77-IjxUDnFjNM4U-8J8AG60vJ5zYuFKOAQGugH0koDvm4Q3HZMY7plHCoOR_4u-GjThDoEwl-XK3phUtVWN_rCFLFtIDscUJbqO1pLtb_RTL11nKbFfpHbB1b0vIQuhcjUwUvU5OQlm8PQyRhbsj8Bf8QAc/s976/_115640867_wodehouse_fry_laurie_alamy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="976" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjucvlIfZ678yDi4fVWKTCVre6TBzXAh6GQ77-IjxUDnFjNM4U-8J8AG60vJ5zYuFKOAQGugH0koDvm4Q3HZMY7plHCoOR_4u-GjThDoEwl-XK3phUtVWN_rCFLFtIDscUJbqO1pLtb_RTL11nKbFfpHbB1b0vIQuhcjUwUvU5OQlm8PQyRhbsj8Bf8QAc/s320/_115640867_wodehouse_fry_laurie_alamy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Well, Jeeves. One more fine mystery wrapped up..."</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once round the corner, he ran. It hurt his
head to run, but there were things behind him that could hurt his head more
than running.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>* * * * *<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the entrance to the Tube he stopped. To
leave the locality he must have money. He felt in his pockets. Slowly, one by
one, he pulled forth his little valuables. His knife … his revolver … the
magistrate's gold watch … He inspected them sadly. They must all go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went into a pawnbroker's shop at the
corner of the street. A few moments later, with money in his pockets, he dived
into the Tube.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">END</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stranger-Paris-Louis-Shalako-ebook/dp/B0C5FJMK3Z/ref=sr_1_2?qid=1704315204&refinements=p_27%3ALouis+Shalako&s=books&sr=1-2" target="_blank">books and stories available from Amazon.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">See
his <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" target="_blank">art on Fine Art America.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Here’s
<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=3xV8AgAAQBAJ" target="_blank">a free audiobook from Google Play.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">More
on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P._G._Wodehouse" target="_blank">P.G. Wodehouse from Wikipedia.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-74753060077384395852024-01-03T07:50:00.000-05:002024-01-03T07:50:28.423-05:00The Argonaut. H.G. Wells.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6lHUQYWwW24WdWTuM5wIobBSFFrhZMl9yshWu6a7AFhzndLFsY22CSN_u5Kw71U7jASWQi9KZsv0CFvap3D0kz0_f2fSMDGJ_ayMAjT2T8hFJiYpdwTCuwXk3LXZ2zEXVba1aAyg1CWipVQVoYBOjjvxIOX5M_1lGGozVg_9UBrqrtqYGTwBc1nokDk/s1381/editor_images_1526371357488-15-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1381" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6lHUQYWwW24WdWTuM5wIobBSFFrhZMl9yshWu6a7AFhzndLFsY22CSN_u5Kw71U7jASWQi9KZsv0CFvap3D0kz0_f2fSMDGJ_ayMAjT2T8hFJiYpdwTCuwXk3LXZ2zEXVba1aAyg1CWipVQVoYBOjjvxIOX5M_1lGGozVg_9UBrqrtqYGTwBc1nokDk/w640-h510/editor_images_1526371357488-15-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>H.G. Wells</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">THE
ARGONAUT</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">One saw Monson’s flying-machine from the
windows of the trains passing either along the South-Western main line or along
the line between Wimbledon and Worcester Park,—to be more exact, one saw the
huge scaffoldings which limited the flight of the apparatus. They rose over the
tree-tops, a massive alley of interlacing iron and timber, and an enormous web
of ropes and tackle, extending the best part of two miles. From the Leatherhead
branch this alley was foreshortened and in part hidden by a hill with villas;
but from the main line one had it in profile, a complex tangle of girders and
curving bars, very impressive to the excursionists from Portsmouth and
Southampton and the West. Monson had taken up the work where Maxim had left it,
had gone on at first with an utter contempt for the journalistic wit and
ignorance that had irritated and hampered his predecessor, and had spent (it
was said) rather more than half his immense fortune upon his experiments. The
results, to an impatient generation, seemed inconsiderable. When some five
years had passed after the growth of the colossal iron groves at Worcester
Park, and Monson still failed to put in a fluttering appearance over
Trafalgar Square, even the Isle of Wight trippers felt their liberty to smile.
And such intelligent people as did not consider Monson a fool stricken with the
mania for invention, denounced him as being (for no particular reason) a
self-advertising quack.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet now and again a morning trainload of
season-ticket holders would see a white monster rush headlong through the airy
tracery of guides and bars, and hear the further stays, nettings, and buffers
snap, creak, and groan with the impact of the blow. Then there would be an
efflorescence of black-set white-rimmed faces along the sides of the train, and
the morning papers would be neglected for a vigorous discussion of the
possibility of flying (in which nothing new was ever said by any chance), until
the train reached Waterloo, and its cargo of season-ticket holders dispersed
themselves over London. Or the fathers and mothers in some multitudinous train
of weary excursionists returning exhausted from a day of rest by the sea, would
find the dark fabric, standing out against the evening sky, useful in diverting
some bilious child from its introspection, and be suddenly startled by the
swift transit of a huge black flapping shape that strained upward against the
guides. It was a great and forcible thing beyond dispute, and excellent for
conversation; yet, all the same, it was but flying in leading-strings, and most
of those who witnessed it scarcely counted its flight as flying. More of
a switchback it seemed to the run of the folk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monson, I say, did not trouble himself very
keenly about the opinions of the press at first. But possibly he, even, had
formed but a poor idea of the time it would take before the tactics of flying
were mastered, the swift assured adjustment of the big soaring shape to every
gust and chance movement of the air; nor had he clearly reckoned the money this
prolonged struggle against gravitation would cost him. And he was not so
pachydermatous as he seemed. Secretly he had his periodical bundles of cuttings
sent him by Romeike, he had his periodical reminders from his banker; and if he
did not mind the initial ridicule and scepticism, he felt the growing neglect
as the months went by and the money dribbled away. Time was when Monson had
sent the enterprising journalist, keen after readable matter, empty from his
gates. But when the enterprising journalist ceased from troubling, Monson was
anything but satisfied in his heart of hearts. Still day by day the work went
on, and the multitudinous subtle difficulties of the steering diminished in
number. Day by day, too, the money trickled away, until his balance was no
longer a matter of hundreds of thousands, but of tens. And at last came an
anniversary.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monson, sitting in the little drawing-shed,
suddenly noticed the date on Woodhouse’s calendar.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It was five years ago to-day that we
began,” he said to Woodhouse suddenly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is it?” said Woodhouse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s the alterations play the devil with
us,” said Monson, biting a paper-fastener.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drawings for the new vans to the hinder
screw lay on the table before him as he spoke. He pitched the mutilated brass
paper-fastener into the waste-paper basket and drummed with his fingers. “These
alterations! Will the mathematicians ever be clever enough to save us all this
patching and experimenting. Five years—learning by rule of thumb, when one
might think that it was possible to calculate the whole thing out beforehand.
The cost of it! I might have hired three senior wranglers for life. But they’d
only have developed some beautifully useless theorems in pneumatics. What a
time it has been, Woodhouse!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“These mouldings will take three weeks,” said
Woodhouse. “At special prices.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Three weeks!” said Monson, and sat drumming.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Three weeks certain,” said Woodhouse, an
excellent engineer, but no good as a comforter. He drew the sheets towards him
and began shading a bar.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monson stopped drumming and began to bite his
finger-nails, staring the while at Woodhouse’s head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How long have they been calling this
Monson’s Folly?” he said suddenly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh! Year or so,” said Woodhouse,
carelessly, without looking up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monson sucked the air in between his teeth,
and went to the window. The stout iron columns carrying the elevated rails upon
which the start of the machine was made rose up close by, and the machine was
hidden by the upper edge of the window. Through the grove of iron pillars, red
painted and ornate with rows of bolts, one had a glimpse of the pretty scenery
towards Esher. A train went gliding noiselessly across the middle distance, its
rattle drowned by the hammering of the workmen overhead. Monson could imagine
the grinning faces at the windows of the carriages. He swore savagely under his
breath, and dabbed viciously at a blowfly that suddenly became noisy on the
window-pane.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’s up?” said Woodhouse, staring in
surprise at his employer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m about sick of this.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woodhouse scratched his cheek. “Oh!” he said,
after an assimilating pause. He pushed the drawing away from him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here these fools—I’m trying to conquer a new
element—trying to do a thing that will revolutionise life. And instead of
taking an intelligent interest, they grin and make their stupid jokes, and call
me and my appliances names.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Asses!” said Woodhouse, letting his eye
fall again on the drawing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The epithet, curiously enough, made Monson
wince. “I’m about sick of it, Woodhouse, anyhow,” he said, after a pause.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woodhouse shrugged his shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There’s nothing for it but patience, I
suppose,” said Monson, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve started. I’ve
made my bed, and I’ve got to lie on it. I can’t go back. I’ll see it through,
and spend every penny I have and every penny I can borrow. But I tell you,
Woodhouse, I’m infernally sick of it, all the same. If I’d paid a tenth part of
the money towards some political greaser’s expenses—I’d have been a baronet before
this.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monson paused. Woodhouse stared in front of
him with a blank expression he always employed to indicate sympathy, and tapped
his pencil-case on the table. Monson stared at him for a minute.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, damn!” said Monson, suddenly, and
abruptly rushed out of the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woodhouse continued his sympathetic rigour
for perhaps half a minute. Then he sighed and resumed the shading of the
drawings. Something had evidently upset Monson. Nice chap, and generous, but
difficult to get on with. It was the way with every amateur who had anything to
do with engineering—wanted everything finished at once. But Monson had
usually the patience of the expert. Odd he was so irritable. Nice and round
that aluminium rod did look now! Woodhouse threw back his head, and put it,
first this side and then that, to appreciate his bit of shading better.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mr. Woodhouse,” said Hooper, the foreman of
the labourers, putting his head in at the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hullo!” said Woodhouse, without turning
round.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nothing happened, sir?” said Hooper.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Happened?” said Woodhouse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The governor just been up the rails swearing
like a tornader.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh!” said Woodhouse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It ain’t like him, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And I was thinking perhaps—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t think,” said Woodhouse, still admiring
the drawings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hooper knew Woodhouse, and he shut the door
suddenly with a vicious slam. Woodhouse stared stonily before him for some
further minutes, and then made an ineffectual effort to pick his teeth with his
pencil. Abruptly he desisted, pitched that old, tried, and stumpy servitor
across the room, got up, stretched himself, and followed Hooper.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked ruffled—it was visible to every
workman he met. When a millionaire who has been spending thousands on
experiments that employ quite a little army of people suddenly indicates
that he is sick of the undertaking, there is almost invariably a certain amount
of mental friction in the ranks of the little army he employs. And even before
he indicates his intentions there are speculations and murmurs, a watching of
faces and a study of straws. Hundreds of people knew before the day was out
that Monson was ruffled, Woodhouse ruffled, Hooper ruffled. A workman’s wife,
for instance (whom Monson had never seen), decided to keep her money in the
savings-bank instead of buying a velveteen dress. So far-reaching are even the
casual curses of a millionaire.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monson found a certain satisfaction in going
on the works and behaving disagreeably to as many people as possible. After a
time even that palled upon him, and he rode off the grounds, to every one’s
relief there, and through the lanes south-eastward, to the infinite tribulation
of his house steward at Cheam.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the immediate cause of it all, the little
grain of annoyance that had suddenly precipitated all this discontent with his
life-work was—these trivial things that direct all our great decisions!—half a
dozen ill-considered remarks made by a pretty girl, prettily dressed, with a
beautiful voice and something more than prettiness in her soft grey eyes. And
of these half-dozen remarks, two words especially—“Monson’s Folly.” She
had felt she was behaving charmingly to Monson; she reflected the next
day how exceptionally effective she had been, and no one would have been more
amazed than she, had she learned the effect she had left on Monson’s mind. I
hope, considering everything, that she never knew.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How are you getting on with your
flying-machine?” she asked. (“I wonder if I shall ever meet any one with the
sense not to ask that,” thought Monson.) “It will be very dangerous at first,
will it not?” (“Thinks I’m afraid.”) “Jorgon is going to play presently; have
you heard him before?” (“My mania being attended to, we turn to rational
conversation.”) Gush about Jorgon; gradual decline of conversation, ending with—“You
must let me know when your flying-machine is finished, Mr. Monson, and then I
will consider the advisability of taking a ticket.” (“One would think I was
still playing inventions in the nursery.”) But the bitterest thing she said was
not meant for Monson’s ears. To Phlox, the novelist, she was always
conscientiously brilliant. “I have been talking to Mr. Monson, and he can think
of nothing, positively nothing, but that flying-machine of his. Do you know,
all his workmen call that place of his ‘Monson’s Folly’? He is quite
impossible. It is really very, very sad. I always regard him myself in the
light of sunken treasure—the Lost Millionaire, you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was pretty and well educated,—indeed,
she had written an epigrammatic novelette; but the bitterness was that she was
typical. She summarised what the world thought of the man who was working
sanely, steadily, and surely towards a more tremendous revolution in the
appliances of civilisation, a more far-reaching alteration in the ways of
humanity than has ever been effected since history began. They did not even
take him seriously. In a little while he would be proverbial. “I must fly now,”
he said on his way home, smarting with a sense of absolute social failure.
“I must fly soon. If it doesn’t come off soon, by God! I shall run
amuck.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that before he had gone through his
pass-book and his litter of papers. Inadequate as the cause seems, it was that
girl’s voice and the expression of her eyes that precipitated his discontent.
But certainly the discovery that he had no longer even one hundred thousand
pounds’ worth of realisable property behind him was the poison that made the
wound deadly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the next day after this that he
exploded upon Woodhouse and his workmen, and thereafter his bearing was
consistently grim for three weeks, and anxiety dwelt in Cheam and Ewell,
Malden, Morden, and Worcester Park, places that had thriven mightily on his
experiments.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four weeks after that first swearing of his,
he stood with Woodhouse by the reconstructed machine as it lay across
the elevated railway, by means of which it gained its initial impetus. The new
propeller glittered a brighter white than the rest of the machine, and a
gilder, obedient to a whim of Monson’s, was picking out the aluminium bars with
gold. And looking down the long avenue between the ropes (gilded now with the
sunset), one saw red signals, and two miles away an anthill of workmen busy
altering the last falls of the run into a rising slope.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll come,” said Woodhouse. “I’ll come
right enough. But I tell you it’s infernally foolhardy. If only you would give
another year—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I tell you I won’t. I tell you the thing
works. I’ve given years enough—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s not that,” said Woodhouse. “We’re all
right with the machine. But it’s the steering—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Haven’t I been rushing, night and morning,
backwards and forwards, through this squirrel’s cage? If the thing steers true
here, it will steer true all across England. It’s just funk, I tell you,
Woodhouse. We could have gone a year ago. And besides—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well?” said Woodhouse.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUAJN8eu0QSMbaad1YUr8f7LhSEv-QAstOJLFOAyt54E1q02skmHgwrpZ69Ll63uC4WpHgu3B0cO07ehLulXi0dKqzObPx_HUVi86eJthLnElxE4IoOZM0Va8XswmIjcdoFByyZXnDJNE63SfADFpfyHMMd5ae6MiREBo8YBuXk9M86OV1dp2S7pmJX8/s1649/flying-machine-Image-Graphics-Fairy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="1649" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUAJN8eu0QSMbaad1YUr8f7LhSEv-QAstOJLFOAyt54E1q02skmHgwrpZ69Ll63uC4WpHgu3B0cO07ehLulXi0dKqzObPx_HUVi86eJthLnElxE4IoOZM0Va8XswmIjcdoFByyZXnDJNE63SfADFpfyHMMd5ae6MiREBo8YBuXk9M86OV1dp2S7pmJX8/w400-h318/flying-machine-Image-Graphics-Fairy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The money!” snapped Monson, over his
shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hang it! I never thought of the money,” said
Woodhouse, and then, speaking now in a very different tone to that with which
he had said the words before, he repeated, “I’ll come. Trust me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monson turned suddenly, and saw all that
Woodhouse had not the dexterity to say, shining on his sunset-lit face. He
looked for a moment, then impulsively extended his hand. “Thanks,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“All right,” said Woodhouse, gripping the
hand, and with a queer softening of his features. “Trust me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then both men turned to the big apparatus
that lay with its flat wings extended upon the carrier, and stared at it
meditatively. Monson, guided perhaps by a photographic study of the flight of
birds, and by Lilienthal’s methods, had gradually drifted from Maxim’s shapes
towards the bird form again. The thing, however, was driven by a huge screw
behind in the place of the tail; and so hovering, which needs an almost
vertical adjustment of a flat tail, was rendered impossible. The body of the
machine was small, almost cylindrical, and pointed. Forward and aft on the
pointed ends were two small petroleum engines for the screw, and the navigators
sat deep in a canoe-like recess, the foremost one steering, and being protected
by a low screen, with two plate-glass windows, from the blinding rush of air.
On either side a monstrous flat framework with a curved front border could be
adjusted so as either to lie horizontally, or to be tilted upward or down.
These wings worked rigidly together, or, by releasing a pin, one
could be tilted through a small angle independently of its fellow. The
front edge of either wing could also be shifted back so as to diminish the
wing-area about one-sixth. The machine was not only not designed to hover, but
it was also incapable of fluttering. Monson’s idea was to get into the air with
the initial rush of the apparatus, and then to skim, much as a playingcard may
be skimmed, keeping up the rush by means of the screw at the stern. Rooks and
gulls fly enormous distances in that way with scarcely a perceptible movement
of the wings. The bird really drives along on an aërial switchback. It glides
slanting downward for a space, until it has gained considerable momentum, and
then altering the inclination of its wings, glides up again almost to its
original altitude. Even a Londoner who has watched the birds in the aviary in
Regent’s Park knows that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the bird is practising this art from the
moment it leaves its nest. It has not only the perfect apparatus, but the
perfect instinct to use it. A man off his feet has the poorest skill in
balancing. Even the simple trick of the bicycle costs him some hours of labour.
The instantaneous adjustments of the wings, the quick response to a passing
breeze, the swift recovery of equilibrium, the giddy, eddying movements that
require such absolute precision—all that he must learn, learn with infinite
labour and infinite danger, if ever he is to conquer flying. The
flying-machine that will start off some fine day, driven by neat “little
levers,” with a nice open deck like a liner, and all loaded up with bomb-shells
and guns, is the easy dreaming of a literary man. In lives and in treasure the
cost of the conquest of the empire of the air may even exceed all that has been
spent in man’s great conquest of the sea. Certainly it will be costlier than
the greatest war that has ever devastated the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one knew these things better than these
two practical men. And they knew they were in the front rank of the coming
army. Yet there is hope even in a forlorn hope. Men are killed outright in the
reserves sometimes, while others who have been left for dead in the thickest
corner crawl out and survive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If we miss these meadows—” said Woodhouse,
presently in his slow way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My dear chap,” said Monson, whose spirits
had been rising fitfully during the last few days, “we mustn’t miss these
meadows. There’s a quarter of a square mile for us to hit, fences removed,
ditches levelled. We shall come down all right—rest assured. And if we don’t—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah!” said Woodhouse. “If we don’t!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the day of the start, the newspaper
people got wind of the alterations at the northward end of the framework, and
Monson was cheered by a decided change in the comments Romeike forwarded
him. “He will be off some day,” said the papers. “He will be off some day,”
said the South-Western season-ticket holders one to another; the seaside
excursionists, the Saturday-to-Monday trippers from Sussex and Hampshire and
Dorset and Devon, the eminent literary people from Hazlemere, all remarked
eagerly one to another, “He will be off some day,” as the familiar scaffolding
came in sight. And actually, one bright morning, in full view of the
ten-past-ten train from Basingstoke, Monson’s flying-machine started on its
journey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They saw the carrier running swiftly along
its rail, and the white-and-gold screw spinning in the air. They heard the
rapid rumble of wheels, and a thud as the carrier reached the buffers at the end
of its run. Then a whirr as the flying-machine was shot forward into the
networks. All that the majority of them had seen and heard before. The thing
went with a drooping flight through the framework and rose again, and then
every beholder shouted, or screamed, or yelled, or shrieked after his kind. For
instead of the customary concussion and stoppage, the flying-machine flew out
of its five years’ cage like a bolt from a crossbow, and drove slantingly
upward into the air, curved round a little, so as to cross the line, and soared
in the direction of Wimbledon Common.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed to hang momentarily in the air
and grow smaller, then it ducked and vanished over the clustering blue
tree-tops to the east of Coombe Hill, and no one stopped staring and gasping
until long after it had disappeared.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was what the people in the train from
Basingstoke saw. If you had drawn a line down the middle of that train, from
engine to guard’s van, you would not have found a living soul on the opposite
side to the flying-machine. It was a mad rush from window to window as the
thing crossed the line. And the engine-driver and stoker never took their eyes
off the low hills about Wimbledon, and never noticed that they had run clean
through Coombe and Malden and Raynes Park, until, with returning animation,
they found themselves pelting, at the most indecent pace, into Wimbledon
station.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the moment when Monson had started the
carrier with a “Now!” neither he nor Woodhouse said a word. Both men sat with
clenched teeth. Monson had crossed the line with a curve that was too sharp,
and Woodhouse had opened and shut his white lips; but neither spoke. Woodhouse
simply gripped his seat, and breathed sharply through his teeth, watching the
blue country to the west rushing past, and down, and away from him. Monson
knelt at his post forward, and his hands trembled on the spoked wheel that
moved the wings. He could see nothing before him but a mass of white clouds in
the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The machine went slanting upward,
travelling with an enormous speed still, but losing momentum every moment. The
land ran away underneath with diminishing speed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now!” said Woodhouse at last, and with a
violent effort Monson wrenched over the wheel and altered the angle of the
wings. The machine seemed to hang for half a minute motionless in mid-air, and
then he saw the hazy blue house-covered hills of Kilburn and Hampstead jump up
before his eyes and rise steadily, until the little sunlit dome of the Albert
Hall appeared through his windows. For a moment he scarcely understood the
meaning of this upward rush of the horizon, but as the nearer and nearer houses
came into view, he realised what he had done. He had turned the wings over too
far, and they were swooping steeply downward towards the Thames.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thought, the question, the realisation
were all the business of a second of time. “Too much!” gasped Woodhouse. Monson
brought the wheel half-way back with a jerk, and forthwith the Kilburn and
Hampstead ridge dropped again to the lower edge of his windows. They had been a
thousand feet above Coombe and Malden station; fifty seconds after they
whizzed, at a frightful pace, not eighty feet above the East Putney station, on
the Metropolitan District line, to the screaming astonishment of a platform
full of people. Monson flung up the vans against the air, and over Fulham
they rushed up their atmospheric switchback again, steeply—too steeply.
The ’busses went floundering across the Fulham Road, the people yelled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then down again, too steeply still, and the
distant trees and houses about Primrose Hill leapt up across Monson’s window,
and then suddenly he saw straight before him the greenery of Kensington Gardens
and the towers of the Imperial Institute. They were driving straight down upon
South Kensington. The pinnacles of the Natural History Museum rushed up into
view. There came one fatal second of swift thought, a moment of hesitation.
Should he try and clear the towers, or swerve eastward?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made a hesitating attempt to release the
right wing, left the catch half released, and gave a frantic clutch at the
wheel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nose of the machine seemed to leap up
before him. The wheel pressed his hand with irresistible force, and jerked
itself out of his control.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woodhouse, sitting crouched together, gave a
hoarse cry, and sprang up towards Monson. “Too far!” he cried, and then he was
clinging to the gunwale for dear life, and Monson had been jerked clean
overhead, and was falling backwards upon him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So swiftly had the thing happened that barely
a quarter of the people going to and fro in Hyde Park, and Brompton Road, and
the Exhibition Road saw anything of the aërial catastrophe. A distant
winged shape had appeared above the clustering houses to the south, had fallen
and risen, growing larger as it did so; had swooped swiftly down towards the
Imperial Institute, a broad spread of flying wings, had swept round in a
quarter circle, dashed eastward, and then suddenly sprang vertically into the
air. A black object shot out of it, and came spinning downward. A man! Two men
clutching each other! They came whirling down, separated as they struck the
roof of the Students’ Club, and bounded off into the green bushes on its
southward side.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For perhaps half a minute, the pointed stem
of the big machine still pierced vertically upward, the screw spinning
desperately. For one brief instant, that yet seemed an age to all who watched,
it had hung motionless in mid-air. Then a spout of yellow flame licked up its
length from the stern engine, and swift, swifter, swifter, and flaring like a
rocket, it rushed down upon the solid mass of masonry which was formerly the
Royal College of Science. The big screw of white and gold touched the parapet,
and crumpled up like wet linen. Then the blazing spindle-shaped body smashed and
splintered, smashing and splintering in its fall, upon the north-westward angle
of the building.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShrlAseilR0nhwd5hx9g5A2G4IpnH_Z3Ayix_SmK2ZRd0oE6yEVwzqZLov5W5daP11aUCjuR4Jk8tNYwB8KmHkjFzxxezpxXkjnfrmeTc2nGV4sVopeXxb2hih28VyL-17DpXkVmn1Q25UQAgnuGzhibmpqanaJnWaZdsgu82WZduvztwSk7GzulpCRk/s800/H.G._Wells_by_Beresford.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="573" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShrlAseilR0nhwd5hx9g5A2G4IpnH_Z3Ayix_SmK2ZRd0oE6yEVwzqZLov5W5daP11aUCjuR4Jk8tNYwB8KmHkjFzxxezpxXkjnfrmeTc2nGV4sVopeXxb2hih28VyL-17DpXkVmn1Q25UQAgnuGzhibmpqanaJnWaZdsgu82WZduvztwSk7GzulpCRk/w286-h400/H.G._Wells_by_Beresford.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herbert George Wells.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the crash, the flame of blazing paraffin
that shot heavenward from the shattered engines of the machine, the crushed
horrors that were found in the garden beyond the Students’ Club, the
masses of yellow parapet and red brick that fell headlong into the roadway, the
running to and fro of people like ants in a broken anthill, the galloping of
fire-engines, the gathering of crowds—all these things do not belong to this
story, which was written only to tell how the first of all successful
flying-machines was launched and flew. Though he failed, and failed
disastrously, the record of Monson’s work remains—a sufficient monument—to
guide the next of that band of gallant experimentalists who will sooner or
later master this great problem of flying. And between Worcester Park and
Malden there still stands that portentous avenue of iron-work, rusting now, and
dangerous here and there, to witness to the first desperate struggle for man’s
right of way through the air.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/louisbertrandshalako" target="_blank">books and stories available from Smashwords.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See
his </span><a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">works on ArtPal.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Grab
a </span><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">free audiobook from Google Play.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Here’s
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._G._Wells" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">more on H.G. Wells.</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> (Wiki)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-85019118638667004812024-01-01T13:11:00.000-05:002024-01-01T13:11:13.613-05:00The Hunter's Lodge Case. Agatha Christie.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeTiGQ9dcTaB3VuTPt4vOdxHyW-BzYkJZQ6-lAjjwspbO-yxMVTNIshy8tFi1M2nk7Wk51LO5a3LMgOWsmKRpzyiCof2jUwR_k_MCIzgicmptamjr4GSF5RvFIRXaXq0mgxXwpq7IYrKL7knT35gEUogRX8rudKeiRUGRMmPk70BKR-Xpxw7uU5LAfm4/s612/gettyimages-517724912-612x612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="377" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeTiGQ9dcTaB3VuTPt4vOdxHyW-BzYkJZQ6-lAjjwspbO-yxMVTNIshy8tFi1M2nk7Wk51LO5a3LMgOWsmKRpzyiCof2jUwR_k_MCIzgicmptamjr4GSF5RvFIRXaXq0mgxXwpq7IYrKL7knT35gEUogRX8rudKeiRUGRMmPk70BKR-Xpxw7uU5LAfm4/w394-h640/gettyimages-517724912-612x612.jpg" width="394" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"...perhaps I will not die, <i>mon ami."</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Agatha Christie</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><b>The
Hunter’s Lodge Case</b></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><i>Blue
Book,</i> January 14, 1924.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>The
famous “little gray cells” of the great detective Poirot function admirably in
solving what at first seems a particularly puzzling murder mystery.</b></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>“After all,” murmured Poirot, “it is possible
that I shall not die this time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coming from a convalescent influenza patient,
I hailed the remark as showing a beneficial optimism. I myself had been the
first sufferer from the disease. Poirot in his turn had gone down. He was now
sitting up in bed, propped up with pillows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, yes,” my little friend continued. “Once
more shall I be myself again, the great Hercule Poirot, the terror of
evildoers! Figure to yourself, mon ami, that I have a little paragraph to
myself in Society Gossip. But yes! Here it is!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“‘Go it, criminals—all out! Hercule
Poirot,—and believe me, girls, he’s some Hercules!—our own pet society
detective can’t get a grip on you. ’Cause why? ’Cause he’s got la
grippe himself!’”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Good for you, Poirot. You are becoming quite
a public character. And fortunately you haven’t missed anything of particular
interest during this time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That is true. The few cases I have had to
decline did not fill me with any regret.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our landlady stuck her head in at the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There’s a gentleman downstairs. Says he must
see M. Poirot or you, Captain. Seeing as he was in a great to-do,—and with all
that quite the gentleman,—I brought up ’is card.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She handed me the bit of pasteboard. “‘Hon.
Roger Havering,’” I read.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poirot motioned with his head toward the
bookcase, and I obediently pulled forth the “Who’s Who.” Poirot took it from me
and scanned the pages rapidly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Second son of fifth Baron Windsor. Married
1913 Zoe, fourth daughter of William Crabb.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“H’m,” I said. “I rather fancy that’s the
girl who used to act at the Frivolity—only she called herself Zoe Carrisbrook.
I remember she married some young man about town just before the war.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Would it interest you, Hastings, to go down
and hear what our visitor’s particular trouble is? Make him all my excuses.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roger Havering was a man of about forty, well
set up and of smart appearance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His face, however, was haggard, and he was
evidently laboring under great agitation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Captain Hastings? You are M. Poirot’s
partner, I understand. It is imperative that he should come with me to
Derbyshire today.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” I replied.
“Poirot is ill in bed—influenza.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His face fell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dear me, that is a great blow to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The matter on which you want to consult him
is serious?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My God, yes! My uncle, the best friend I
have in the world, was foully murdered last night.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here in London?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, in Derbyshire. I was in town and
received a telegram from my wife this morning. Immediately upon its receipt I
determined to come round and beg M. Poirot to undertake the case.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you will excuse me a minute,” I said,
struck by a sudden idea.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rushed upstairs, and in few brief words
acquainted Poirot with the situation. He took any further words out of my
mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I see—I see. You want to go yourself, is it
not so? Well, why not? You should know my methods by now. All I ask is that you
should report to me fully every day, and follow implicitly any instructions I
may wire you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To this I willingly agreed, and an hour later
I was sitting opposite Mr. Havering in a first-class carriage on the Midland
Railway, speeding rapidly away from London.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“To begin with, Captain Hastings, you must
understand that Hunter’s Lodge, where we are going, and where the tragedy took
place, is only a small shooting-box in the heart of the Derbyshire moors. Our
real home is near Newmarket, and we usually rent a flat in town for the season.
Hunter’s Lodge is looked after by a housekeeper who is quite capable of doing
all we need when we run down for an occasional week-end. Of course, during the
shooting season, we take down some of our own servants from Newmarket.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My uncle, Mr. Harrington Pace (as you may
know, my mother was a Miss Pace of New York), has for the last three years made
his home with us. He never got on well with my father, or my elder brother, and
I suspect that my being somewhat of a prodigal son myself rather increased than
diminished his affection toward me. Of course, I am a poor man, and my uncle
was a rich one—in other words, he paid the piper! But though exacting in many
ways, he was not really hard to get on with, and we all three lived very
harmoniously together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Two days ago my uncle, rather wearied with
some recent gayeties of ours in town, suggested that we should run down to
Derbyshire for a day or two. My wife telegraphed to Mrs. Middleton, the
housekeeper, and we went down that same afternoon. Yesterday evening I was
forced to return to town, but my wife and my uncle remained on. This morning I
received this telegram.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He handed it over to me, and I read:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><i>Come
at once. Uncle Harrington murdered last night. Bring good detective if you can,
but do come.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">ZOE.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Then as yet you know no details?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, I suppose it will be in the evening
papers. Without doubt the police are in charge.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was about three o’clock when we arrived at
the little station of Elmer’s Dale. From there a five-mile drive brought us to
a small gray stone building in the midst of the rugged moors.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A lonely place,” I observed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Havering nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I shall try and get rid of it. I could never
live here again.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We unlatched the gate and were walking up the
narrow path to the oak door when a familiar figure emerged and came to meet us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Japp!” I ejaculated.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Scotland Yard Inspector grinned at me in
a friendly fashion before addressing my companion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mr. Havering, I think? I’ve been sent down
from London to take charge of this case, and I’d like a word with you, if I
may, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My wife——”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve seen your good lady, sir—and the housekeeper.
I wont keep you a moment, but I’m anxious to get back to the village now that
I’ve seen all there is to see here.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know nothing as yet as to what—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ex-actly,” said Japp soothingly. “But there
are just one or two little points I’d like your opinion about all the same.
Captain Hastings, here, he knows me, and he’ll go on up to the house and tell
them you’re coming.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went on to the house. I rang the bell, as
Japp had closed the door behind him. After some moments it was opened to me by
a middle-aged woman in black.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mr. Havering will be here in a moment,” I
explained. “He has been detained by the Inspector. I have come down with him
from London to look into the case. Perhaps you can tell me briefly what
occurred last night?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come inside, sir.” She closed the door
behind me, and we stood in the dimly lighted hall. “It was after dinner last
night, sir, that the man came. He asked to see Mr. Pace, sir, and seeing that
he spoke the same way, I thought it was an American gentleman friend of Mr.
Pace’s, and I showed him into the gun-room, and then went to tell Mr. Pace. He
wouldn’t give no name, which of course was a bit odd, now I come to think of
it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I told Mr. Pace, and he seemed puzzled,
like, but he said to the mistress: ‘Excuse me, Zoe, while I just see what this
fellow wants.’ He went off to the gun-room, and I went back to the kitchen, but
after a while I heard loud voices, as if they were quarreling, and I came out
into the hall. At the same time, the mistress she comes out too, and just then
there was a shot and then a dreadful silence. We both ran to the gun-room door,
but it was locked, and we had to go round to the window. It was open, and there
inside was Mr. Pace, all shot and bleeding.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What became of the man?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He must have got away through the window,
sir, before we got to it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And then?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mrs. Havering sent me to fetch the police.
Five miles to walk, it was. They came back with me; and the constable, he
stayed all night; and this morning the police gentleman from London arrived.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What was this man like who called to see Mr.
Pace?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The housekeeper reflected.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He had a black beard, sir, and was about
middle-aged, and had on a light overcoat. Beyond the fact that he spoke like an
American, I didn’t notice much about him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I see. Now, I wonder if I can see Mrs.
Havering?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She’s upstairs, sir. Shall I tell her?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you please. Tell her that Mr. Havering is
outside with Inspector Japp, and that the gentleman he has brought back with
him from London is anxious to speak to her as soon as possible.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Very good, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in a fever of impatience to get at all
the facts. Japp had two or three hours start of me, and his anxiety to be gone
made me keen to be close at his heels.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Havering did not keep me waiting long.
In a few minutes I heard a light step descending the stairs, and looked up to
see a very handsome young woman coming toward me. She wore a flame-colored
jumper, that set off the slender boyishness of her figure. On her dark head was
a little hat of flame-colored leather. Even the present tragedy could not dim
the vitality of her personality.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I introduced myself, and she nodded in quick
comprehension.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Of course I have often heard of you and your
colleague, M. Poirot. You have done some wonderful things together, haven’t
you? It was very clever of my husband to get you so promptly. Now, will you ask
me questions? That is the easiest way, isn’t it, of getting to know all you
want to about this dreadful affair?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thank you, Mrs. Havering. Now, what time was
it that this man arrived?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It must have been just before nine o’clock.
We had finished dinner, and were sitting over our coffee and cigarettes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Your husband had already left for London?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, he went up by the six-fifteen.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did he go by car to the station, or did he
walk?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Our own car isn’t down here. One came out
from the garage in Elmer’s Dale to fetch him in time for the train.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Was Mr. Pace quite his usual self?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Absolutely—most normal in every way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now, can you describe this visitor at all?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m afraid not. I didn’t see him. Mrs.
Middleton showed him straight into the gun-room and then came to tell my
uncle.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What did your uncle say?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He seemed rather annoyed, but went off at
once. It was about five minutes later that I heard the sound of raised voices.
I ran out into the hall, and almost collided with Mrs. Middleton. Then we heard
the shot. The gun-room door was locked on the inside, and we had to go round
the house to the window. Of course that took some time, and the murderer had
been able to get well away. My poor uncle”—her voice faltered—“had been shot
through the head. I saw at once that he was dead, and I sent Mrs. Middleton for
the police straight away. I was careful to touch nothing in the room but to
leave it exactly as I found it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nodded approval.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now, as to the weapon?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, I can make a guess at it, Captain
Hastings. A pair of revolvers of my husband’s were mounted upon the wall. One
of them is missing. I pointed this out to the police, and they took the other
one away with them. When they have extracted the bullet, I suppose they will
know for certain.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“May I go to the gun-room?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Certainly. The police have finished with it.
But the body has been removed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She accompanied me to the scene of the crime.
At that moment Havering entered the hall, and with a quick apology, his wife
ran to him. I was left to undertake my investigations alone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6nR-25cNb_pem695zTKCdUU-SnGS4QVmbNNkbnIaVmcfZ7-DJnOmuOGpYwmnsvYFRp2ulffYM6fkVCfQR7H7seuQ47fe6Ptb2hicmozNVYTvRAWOPwt6fv0anhv1GSFC9e6fRzsMwRKSznM7Hh-aDZirzr8C_Po6cVLHSUvz4gaaM6HnWEThkZNr2T8/s750/reQgxV9DPvYWwicHIYsppn40mPt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6nR-25cNb_pem695zTKCdUU-SnGS4QVmbNNkbnIaVmcfZ7-DJnOmuOGpYwmnsvYFRp2ulffYM6fkVCfQR7H7seuQ47fe6Ptb2hicmozNVYTvRAWOPwt6fv0anhv1GSFC9e6fRzsMwRKSznM7Hh-aDZirzr8C_Po6cVLHSUvz4gaaM6HnWEThkZNr2T8/w426-h640/reQgxV9DPvYWwicHIYsppn40mPt.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may as well confess at once that they were
rather disappointing. In detective-novels, clues abound, but here I could find
nothing that struck me as out of the ordinary except a large bloodstain on the
carpet where I judged the dead man had fallen. I examined everything with
painstaking care and took a couple of pictures of the room with my little
camera, which I had brought with me. I also examined the ground outside the
window, but it appeared to have been so heavily trampled that I judged it was
useless to waste time over it. Now I had seen all that Hunter’s Lodge had to
show me. I must go back to Elmer’s Dale and get into touch with Japp.
Accordingly I took leave of the Haverings, and was driven off in the car that
had brought us up from the station.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Japp I found at the Matlock Arms, and he took
me forthwith to see the body. Harrington Pace was a small, spare, cleanshaven
man, typically American in appearance. He had been shot through the back of the
head, and the revolver had been discharged at close quarters.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Turned away for a moment,” remarked Japp,
“and the other fellow snatched up a revolver and shot him. The one Mrs.
Havering handed over to us was fully loaded, and I suppose the other one was
also. Curious what darn fool things people do. Fancy keeping two loaded
revolvers hanging up on your wall!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What do you think of the case?” I asked as
we left the gruesome chamber behind us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, I’d got my eye on Havering to begin
with.... Oh, yes,”—noting my exclamation of astonishment,—“Havering has one or
two shady incidents in his past. When he was a boy at Oxford, there was some
funny business about the signature on one of his father’s checks. All hushed
up, of course. Then he’s pretty heavily in debt now, and they’re the kind of
debts he wouldn’t like to go to his uncle about; whereas you may be sure the
uncle’s will would be in his favor. Yes, I’d got my eye on him, and that’s why
I wanted to speak to him before he saw his wife; but their statements dovetail
all right, and I’ve been to the station, and there’s no doubt whatever that he
left by the six-fifteen. That gets up to London about ten-thirty. He went
straight to his club, he says, and if that’s confirmed all right—why, he
couldn’t have been shooting his uncle here at nine o’clock in a black beard!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah, yes—I was going to ask you what you
thought about that beard?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Japp winked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I think it grew pretty fast—grew in the five
miles from Elmer’s Dale to Hunter’s Lodge. Americans that I’ve met are mostly
clean shaven. I questioned the housekeeper first, and then her mistress, and
their stories agree all right; but I’m sorry Mrs. Havering didn’t get a look at
the fellow. She’s a smart woman, and she might have noticed something that
would set us on the track.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat down and wrote a minute and lengthy
account to Poirot. I was able to add various further items of information
before I posted the letter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bullet had been extracted and was proved
to have been fired from a revolver identical in size to the one held by the
police. Furthermore, Mr. Havering’s movements on the night in question had been
checked and verified, and it was proved beyond doubt that he had actually
arrived in London by the train in question. And thirdly, a sensational
development had occurred. A city gentleman, living at Ealing, on crossing Haven
Green to get to the District Railway station that morning, had observed a brown
paper parcel stuck between the railings. Opening it, he found that it contained
a revolver. He handed the parcel over to the local police station, and before
night it was proved to be the one we were in search of, the fellow to that
given us by Mrs. Havering. One bullet had been fired from it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this I added to my report. A wire from
Poirot arrived while I was at breakfast the following morning:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course black-bearded man was not Havering.
Only you or Japp would have such an idea. Wire me description of housekeeper
and what clothes she wore this morning. Same of Mrs. Havering. Do not waste
time taking photographs of interiors. They are underexposed and not in the
least artistic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed to me that Poirot’s style was
unnecessarily facetious. I also fancied he was a shade jealous of my position
on the spot, with full facilities for handling the case. His request for a
description of the clothes worn by the two women appeared to me to be simply
ridiculous, but I complied as well as I, a mere man, was able to. At eleven a
reply wire came from Poirot:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Advise Japp arrest housekeeper before it is
too late.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dumfounded, I took the wire to Japp. He swore
softly under his breath.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He’s the goods, M. Poirot! If he says so,
there’s something in it. And I hardly noticed the woman! I don’t know that I
can go so far as arresting her, but I’ll have her watched. We’ll go up right
away and take another look at her.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it was too late. Mrs. Middleton, that
quiet, middle-aged woman, who had appeared so normal and respectable, had
vanished into thin air. Her box had been left behind. It contained only
ordinary wearing apparel. There was no clue in it to her identity, or as to her
whereabouts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From Mrs. Havering we elicited all the facts
we could.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I engaged her about three weeks ago, when
Mrs. Emery, our former housekeeper, left. She came to me from Mrs. Selboume’s
Agency in Mount St.—a very well-known place. I get all my servants from there.
They sent several women to see me, but this Mrs. Middleton seemed much the
nicest, and had splendid references. I engaged her on the spot, and notified
the Agency of the fact. I can’t believe that there was anything wrong with her.
She was such a nice, quiet woman.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thing was certainly a mystery.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While it was clear that the woman herself
could not have committed the crime, since at the moment the shot was fired Mrs.
Havering was with her in the hall, nevertheless she must have some connection
with the murder, or why should she suddenly take to her heels and bolt?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wired the latest development to Poirot, and
suggested returning to London and making inquiries at Selbourne’s Agency.
Poirot’s reply was prompt:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Useless to inquire at Agency. They will never
have heard of her. Find out what vehicle took her up to Hunter’s Lodge when she
first arrived there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though mystified, I was obedient. The means
of transport in Elmer’s Dale were limited. The local garage had two cars, and
there were two station flies. None of these had been requisitioned on the date
in question. I may also mention that inquiries at the Agency in London bore out
Poirot’s prognostication. No such woman as “Mrs. Middleton” had ever been on
their books. They had received the Hon. Mrs. Havering’s application for a housekeeper,
and had sent her various applicants for the post. When she sent them the
engagement fee, she omitted to mention which woman she had selected.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">***</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Somewhat crestfallen, I returned to London. I
found Poirot established in an armchair by the fire. He greeted me with much
affection.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mon ami Hastings! But how glad I am to
see you! Veritably I have for you a great affection! And you have enjoyed
yourself? You have run to and fro with the good Japp? You have interrogated and
investigated to your heart’s content?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Poirot,” I cried, “the thing’s a dark
mystery! It will never be solved.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is true that we are not likely to cover
ourselves with glory over it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, indeed. It’s a hard nut to crack.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, as far as that goes, me, I am very good
at cracking the nuts! A veritable squirrel! It is not that which embarrasses
me. I know well enough who killed Mr. Harrington Pace.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know? How did you find out?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeeHTZdyhOJTA4I8cz6xKVjbTkEOGGUl-9MLIvc8hMyHwEw9XB1QU556EqQjOV45aHG8biGZpuG210HbUdh0CwPUrEi2BmaFPZKE1wZV6_OrqD9RN9ypgyV0E8vxt0l3a-E12tXSBAfobC30_4tCnfF0vGOLl3tJMvMh84sP9IvU_WnPA6YgT4BJdTnw/s300/DavidSuchet_-_Poirot.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="300" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeeHTZdyhOJTA4I8cz6xKVjbTkEOGGUl-9MLIvc8hMyHwEw9XB1QU556EqQjOV45aHG8biGZpuG210HbUdh0CwPUrEi2BmaFPZKE1wZV6_OrqD9RN9ypgyV0E8vxt0l3a-E12tXSBAfobC30_4tCnfF0vGOLl3tJMvMh84sP9IvU_WnPA6YgT4BJdTnw/s1600/DavidSuchet_-_Poirot.png" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Your illuminating answers to my wires
supplied me with the truth..... See here, Hastings, let us examine the facts
methodically and in order. Mr. Harrington Pace is a man with a considerable
fortune which at his death will doubtless pass to his nephew—point number one.
His nephew is known to be desperately hard up—point number two. His nephew is
also known to be—shall we say a man of loose moral fiber? Point number three!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But Roger Havering is proved to have
journeyed straight up to London.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Précisément! And therefore, as Mr.
Havering left Elmer’s Dale at six-fifteen, and since Mr. Pace cannot have been
killed before he left (or the doctor would have spotted the time of the crime
as being given wrongly when he examined the body), we conclude, quite rightly,
that Mr. Havering did not shoot his uncle. But there is a Mrs. Havering,
Hastings.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Impossible! The housekeeper was with her
when the shot was fired.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah, yes, the housekeeper. But she has
disappeared.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She will be found.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I think not. There is something peculiarly
elusive about that housekeeper—don’t you think so? It struck me at once.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She played her part, I suppose, and then got
out in the nick of time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And what was her part?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well—I presume to admit her confederate, the
black-bearded man.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, no, that was not her part. Her part was
what you have just mentioned, to provide an alibi for Mrs. Havering at the
moment the shot was fired. And no one will ever find her, mon ami, because
she does not exist! ‘There’s no sech person,’ as your so great Shakespeare
says.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It was Dickens,” I murmured, smiling. “But
what do you mean, Poirot?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I mean that Zoe Havering was an actress
before her marriage, that you and Japp only saw the housekeeper in a dark hall,
a dim, middle-aged figure in black with a faint, subdued voice, and finally
that neither you, nor Japp, nor the local police whom the housekeeper fetched,
ever saw Mrs. Middleton and her mistress at one and the same time. It was a
child’s play for that clever and daring woman. On the pretext of summoning her
mistress, she runs upstairs, slips on a bright jumper and a hat with black
curls attached which she jams down over the gray transformation. A few deft
touches, and the make-up is removed; a slight dusting of rouge, and the
brilliant Zoe Havering comes down with her clear ringing voice.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But the revolver that was found at Ealing?
Mrs. Havering could not have placed it there?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOW98kMiGRxiGGLFY3d7L6ru7Jc1OoeRyZZxoXxiJOgnHpR83OgQMMQbCE2efsm6gKwAvHCzJMI1Z2Khv-GpSo_QtBY1RIwcuk6UgE0BXI4g7WiSJO_1U4N-0UWL_bSujfGxXBx9D-QOhCs3hd6EoSDhsBLPPqQIpJPEkTlYP6k0n99mgq3zc01kNVBI/s397/Agatha_Christie.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="397" data-original-width="347" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOW98kMiGRxiGGLFY3d7L6ru7Jc1OoeRyZZxoXxiJOgnHpR83OgQMMQbCE2efsm6gKwAvHCzJMI1Z2Khv-GpSo_QtBY1RIwcuk6UgE0BXI4g7WiSJO_1U4N-0UWL_bSujfGxXBx9D-QOhCs3hd6EoSDhsBLPPqQIpJPEkTlYP6k0n99mgq3zc01kNVBI/w350-h400/Agatha_Christie.jpeg" width="350" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dame Agatha Christie, the Queen of Crime.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, that was Roger Havering’s job—but it was
a mistake on their part. It put me on the right track. A man who has committed
a murder with a revolver which he found on the spot would fling it away at
once; he would not carry it up to London with him. No, the motive was clear;
the criminals wished to focus the interest of the police on a spot far removed
from Derbyshire; they were anxious to get the police away as soon as possible from
the vicinity of Hunter’s Lodge. Of course, the revolver found at Ealing was not
the one with which Mr. Pace was shot. Roger Havering discharged one shot from
it, brought it up to London, went straight to his club to establish his alibi,
then went quickly out to Ealing by the District Railway, a matter of about
twenty minutes only, placed the parcel where it was found and so back to town.
That charming creature his wife, quietly shoots Mr. Pace after dinner—you
remember he was shot from behind? Another significant point, that! She reloads
the revolver and puts it back in its place, and then starts off with her
desperate little comedy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s incredible,” I murmured, fascinated.
“And yet—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And yet it is true. Bien sûr, my
friend, it is true! But to bring that precious pair to justice, that is another
matter. Well, Japp must do what he can—I have written him fully; but I very
much fear, Hastings, that we shall be obliged to leave them to Fate—or le
bon Dieu—whichever you prefer.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The wicked flourish like a green bay tree,”
I reminded him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But at a price, Hastings, always at a
price, croyez moi!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poirot’s forebodings were confirmed. Japp,
though convinced of the truth of his theory, was unable to get together the
necessary evidence to insure a conviction. Mr. Pace’s huge fortune passed into
the hands of his murderers. Nevertheless, Nemesis did overtake them, and when I
read in the paper that the Hon. Roger and Mrs. Havering were among those killed
in the crashing of the Air Mail to Paris, I knew that Justice was satisfied.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Louis%20Shalako%22;jsessionid=49ED3384658FD00BAB97174549262B79.prodny_store02-atgap10?Ntk=P_key_Contributor_List&Ns=P_Sales_Rank&Ntx=mode+matchall" target="_blank">books and stories available from Barnes & Noble.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See
his </span><a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">art on Fine Art America.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Check
out his </span><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM " style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">new audiobook, free from Google Play.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Read
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agatha_Christie" target="_blank">more about Agatha Christie.</a> (Wiki)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-91441642322516668232024-01-01T07:51:00.000-05:002024-01-01T07:51:06.175-05:00With These Hands. C.M. Kornbluth.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGyx68YRAcuh7xtTh8ztHkN1V3Vsk7fZE6_rzl6rR4NOgALrPZkcAzOAYrvtAjvS1CECjSHdj3hn5P-Ae8uh1UbArUDB0ZlJU4cqmxkzjfXJlkJZUvMFsDZI5pb6-047LnfjIgTeeUdct9U4DagsX_RgKzffUVji9CzuRevtrfmNQWtVeFNnQghpkNQvQ/s1728/151779024_10219421061107100_1227530373225626083_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="1728" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGyx68YRAcuh7xtTh8ztHkN1V3Vsk7fZE6_rzl6rR4NOgALrPZkcAzOAYrvtAjvS1CECjSHdj3hn5P-Ae8uh1UbArUDB0ZlJU4cqmxkzjfXJlkJZUvMFsDZI5pb6-047LnfjIgTeeUdct9U4DagsX_RgKzffUVji9CzuRevtrfmNQWtVeFNnQghpkNQvQ/w640-h480/151779024_10219421061107100_1227530373225626083_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Monsignor.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>C.M. Kornbluth</p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Galaxy
Science Fiction December 1951.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">No
self-respecting artist can object to suffering for his art ... but not in a society
where art is outdated by technology!<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
waited in the Chancery office while Monsignor Reedy disposed of three persons
who had preceded him. He was a little dizzy with hunger and noticed only
vaguely that the prelate's secretary was beckoning to him. He started to his
feet when the secretary pointedly opened the door to Monsignor Reedy's inner
office and stood waiting beside it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
artist crossed the floor, forgetting that he had leaned his portfolio against
his chair, remembered at the door and went back for it, flushing. The secretary
looked patient.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Thanks,"
Halvorsen murmured to him as the door closed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">There
was something wrong with the prelate's manner.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I've
brought the designs for the Stations, Padre," he said, opening the
portfolio on the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Bad
news, Roald," said the monsignor. "I know how you've been looking
forward to the commission—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Somebody
else get it?" asked the artist faintly, leaning against the desk. "I
thought his eminence definitely decided I had the—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"It's
not that," said the monsignor. "But the Sacred Congregation of Rites
this week made a pronouncement on images of devotion. Stereopantograph is to be
licit within a diocese at the discretion of the bishop. And his eminence—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"S.P.G.—slimy
imitations," protested Halvorsen. "Real as a plastic eye. No texture.
No guts. You know that, Padre!" he said accusingly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I'm
sorry, Roald," said the monsignor. "Your work is better than we'll
get from a stereopantograph—to my eyes, at least. But there are other
considerations."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Money!"
spat the artist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Yes,
money," the prelate admitted. "His eminence wants to see the St.
Xavier U. building program through before he dies. Is that a mortal sin? And
there are our schools, our charities, our Venus mission. S.P.G. will mean a
considerable saving on procurement and maintenance of devotional images. Even
if I could, I would not disagree with his eminence on adopting it as a matter
of diocesan policy."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
prelate's eyes fell on the detailed drawings of the Stations of the Cross and
lingered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Your
St. Veronica," he said abstractedly. "Very fine. It suggests one of
Caravaggio's care-worn saints to me. I would have liked to see her in the
bronze."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"So
would I," said Halvorsen hoarsely. "Keep the drawings, Padre."
He started for the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"But
I can't—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"That's
all right."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
artist walked past the secretary blindly and out of the Chancery into Fifth
Avenue's spring sunlight. He hoped Monsignor Reedy was enjoying the drawings
and was ashamed of himself and sorry for Halvorsen. And he was glad he didn't
have to carry the heavy portfolio any more. Everything seemed so heavy
lately—chisels, hammer, wooden palette. Maybe the padre would send him
something and pretend it was for expenses or an advance, as he had in the past.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen's
feet carried him up the Avenue. No, there wouldn't be any advances any more.
The last steady trickle of income had just been dried up, by an announcement
in Osservatore Romano. Religious conservatism had carried the church as
far as it would go in its ancient role of art patron.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">When
all Europe was writing on the wonderful new vellum, the church stuck to good
old papyrus. When all Europe was writing on the wonderful new paper, the church
stuck to good old vellum. When all architects and municipal monument committees
and portrait bust clients were patronizing the stereopantograph, the church
stuck to good old expensive sculpture. But not any more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
was passing an S.P.G. salon now, where one of his Tuesday night pupils worked:
one of the few men in the classes. Mostly they consisted of lazy, moody,
irritable girls. Halvorsen, surprised at himself, entered the salon, walking
between asthenic semi-nude stereos executed in transparent plastic that made
the skin of his neck and shoulders prickle with gooseflesh.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Slime! he
thought. How can they—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"May
I help—oh, hello, Roald. What brings you here?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
knew suddenly what had brought him there. "Could you make a little advance
on next month's tuition, Lewis? I'm strapped." He took a nervous look
around the chamber of horrors, avoiding the man's condescending face.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
guess so, Roald. Would ten dollars be any help? That'll carry us through to the
25th, right?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Fine,
right, sure," he said, while he was being unwillingly towed around the
place.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
know you don't think much of S.P.G., but it's quiet now, so this is a good
chance to see how we work. I don't say it's Art with a capital A, but you've
got to admit it's an art, something people like at a price they can
afford to pay. Here's where we sit them. Then you run out the feelers to the
reference points on the face. You know what they are?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
heard himself say dryly: "I know what they are. The Egyptian sculptors
used them when they carved statues of the pharaohs."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Yes?
I never knew that. There's nothing new under the Sun, is there?
But this is the heart of the S.P.G." The youngster proudly swung
open the door of an electronic device in the wall of the portrait booth. Tubes
winked sullenly at Halvorsen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"The
esthetikon?" he asked indifferently. He did not feel indifferent, but it
would be absurd to show anger, no matter how much he felt it, against a
mindless aggregation of circuits that could calculate layouts, criticize and
correct pictures for a desired effect—and that had put the artist of design out
of a job.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Yes.
The lenses take sixteen profiles, you know, and we set the esthetikon for
whatever we want—cute, rugged, sexy, spiritual, brainy, or a combination. It
fairs curves from profile to profile to give us just what we want, distorts the
profiles themselves within limits if it has to, and there's your portrait
stored in the memory tank waiting to be taped. You set your ratio for any
enlargement or reduction you want and play it back. I wish we were reproducing
today; it's fascinating to watch. You just pour in your cold-set plastic, the
nozzles ooze out a core and start crawling over to scan—a drop here, a worm
there, and it begins to take shape.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"We
mostly do portrait busts here, the Avenue trade, but Wilgus, the foreman, used
to work in a monument shop in Brooklyn. He did that heroic-size war memorial on
the East River Drive—hired Garda Bouchette, the TV girl, for the central
figure. And what a figure! He told me he set the esthetikon plates for
three-quarter sexy, one-quarter spiritual. Here's something
interesting—standing figurine of Orin Ryerson, the banker. He ordered twelve.
Figurines are coming in. The girls like them because they can show their
shapes. You'd be surprised at some of the poses they want to try—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Somehow,
Halvorsen got out with the ten dollars, walked to Sixth Avenue and sat down
hard in a cheap restaurant. He had coffee and dozed a little, waking with a
guilty start at a racket across the street. There was a building going up. For
a while he watched the great machines pour walls and floors, the workmen
rolling here and there on their little chariots to weld on a wall panel, stripe
on an electric circuit of conductive ink, or spray plastic finish over the
"wired" wall, all without leaving the saddles of their little
mechanical chariots.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
felt more determined. He bought a paper from a vending machine by the
restaurant door, drew another cup of coffee and turned to the help-wanted ads.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
tricky trade-school ads urged him to learn construction work and make big
money. Be a plumbing-machine setup man. Be a house-wiring machine tender. Be a
servotruck driver. Be a lumber-stacker operator. Learn pouring-machine
maintenance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Make
big money!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">A
sort of panic overcame him. He ran to the phone booth and dialed a Passaic
number. He heard the ring-ring-ring and strained to hear old Mr.
Krehbeil's stumping footsteps growing louder as he neared the phone, even
though he knew he would hear nothing until the receiver was picked up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Ring—ring—ring. "Hello?"
grunted the old man's voice, and his face appeared on the little screen.
"Hello, Mr. Halvorsen. What can I do for you?"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
was tongue-tied. He couldn't possibly say: I just wanted to see if you were
still there. I was afraid you weren't there any more. He choked and improvised:
"Hello, Mr. Krehbeil. It's about the banister on the stairs in my place. I
noticed it's pretty shaky. Could you come over sometime and fix it for
me?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Krehbeil
peered suspiciously out of the screen. "I could do that," he said
slowly. "I don't have much work nowadays. But you can carpenter as good as
me, Mr. Halvorsen, and frankly you're very slow pay and I like cabinet work
better. I'm not a young man and climbing around on ladders takes it out of me.
If you can't find anybody else, I'll take the work, but I got to have some of
the money first, just for the materials. It isn't easy to get good wood any
more."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"All
right," said Halvorsen. "Thanks, Mr. Krehbeil. I'll call you if I
can't get anybody else."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
hung up and went back to his table and newspaper. His face was burning with
anger at the old man's reluctance and his own foolish panic. Krehbeil didn't
realize they were both in the same leaky boat. Krehbeil, who didn't get a job
in a month, still thought with senile pride that he was a journeyman carpenter
and cabinetmaker who could make his solid way anywhere with his tool-box and
his skill, and that he could afford to look down on anything as disreputable as
an artist—even an artist who could carpenter as well as he did himself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Labuerre
had made Halvorsen learn carpentry, and Labuerre had been right. You build a
scaffold so you can sculp up high, not so it will collapse and you break a leg.
You build your platforms so they hold the rock steady, not so it wobbles and
chatters at every blow of the chisel. You build your armatures so they hold the
plasticine you slam onto them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh836aWi9B5goYhDhJ9FilhnoHsSXCk_N8yYm4kece1sKWkW1c65WamY4haJQvGdlwLOiM9o0-khvaVN0Me6D72Cy7e5vN3eCfRUIJzPEan2hw6ZsApPcRXmdjx4sLfV1qhrwhO94NAk4j1rwdopfL7BTR_0bFRLh29uyMw8_WHDLkDlg33rmJTtnCJmTI/s1423/Screenshot%202023-02-18%20211227.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1423" data-original-width="1178" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh836aWi9B5goYhDhJ9FilhnoHsSXCk_N8yYm4kece1sKWkW1c65WamY4haJQvGdlwLOiM9o0-khvaVN0Me6D72Cy7e5vN3eCfRUIJzPEan2hw6ZsApPcRXmdjx4sLfV1qhrwhO94NAk4j1rwdopfL7BTR_0bFRLh29uyMw8_WHDLkDlg33rmJTtnCJmTI/w331-h400/Screenshot%202023-02-18%20211227.jpg" width="331" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>***<br /><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">But
the help-wanted ads wanted no builders of scaffolds, platforms and armatures.
The factories were calling for setup men and maintenance men for the production
and assembly machines.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">From
upstate, General Vegetables had sent a recruiting team for farm help—harvest
setup and maintenance men, a few openings for experienced operators of
tank-caulking machinery. Under "office and professional" the demand
was heavy for computer men, for girls who could run the I.B.M. Letteriter, esp.
familiar sales and collections corresp., for office machinery maintenance and repair
men. A job printing house wanted an esthetikon operator for letterhead layouts
and the like. A.T. & T. wanted trainees to earn while learning telephone
maintenance. A direct-mail advertising outfit wanted an artist—no, they wanted
a sales-executive who could scrawl picture-ideas that would be subjected to the
criticism and correction of the esthetikon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
leafed tiredly through the rest of the paper. He knew he wouldn't get a job,
and if he did he wouldn't hold it. He knew it was a terrible thing to admit to
yourself that you might starve to death because you were bored by anything
except art, but he admitted it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">It
had happened often enough in the past—artists undergoing preposterous
hardships, not, as people thought, because they were devoted to art, but
because nothing else was interesting. If there were only some impressive,
sonorous word that summed up the aching, oppressive futility that overcame him
when he tried to get out of art—only there wasn't.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
thought he could tell which of the photos in the tabloid had been corrected by
the esthetikon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">There
was a shot of Jink Bitsy, who was to star in a remake of Peter Pan. Her
ears had been made to look not pointed but pointy, her upper lip had been
lengthened a trifle, her nose had been pugged a little and tilted quite a lot,
her freckles were cuter than cute, her brows were innocently arched, and her
lower lip and eyes were nothing less than pornography.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">There
was a shot, apparently uncorrected, of the last Venus ship coming in at La
Guardia and the average-looking explorers grinning. Caption: "Austin
Malone and crew smile relief on safe arrival. Malone says Venus colonies need
men, machines. See story p. 2."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Petulantly,
Halvorsen threw the paper under the table and walked out. What had space travel
to do with him? Vacations on the Moon and expeditions to Venus and Mars were
part of the deadly encroachment on his livelihood and no more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">II<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
took the subway to Passaic and walked down a long-still traffic beltway to his
studio, almost the only building alive in the slums near the rusting railroad
freightyard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">A
sign that had once said "F. Labuerre, Sculptor—Portraits and Architectural
Commissions" now said "Roald Halvorsen; Art Classes—Reasonable
Fees." It was a grimy two-story frame building with a shopfront in which
were mounted some of his students' charcoal figure studies and oil still-lifes.
He lived upstairs, taught downstairs front, and did his own work downstairs,
back behind dirty, ceiling-high drapes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Going
in, he noticed that he had forgotten to lock the door again. He slammed it
bitterly. At the noise, somebody called from behind the drapes: "Who's
that?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Halvorsen!"
he yelled in a sudden fury. "I live here. I own this place. Come out of
there! What do you want?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">There
was a fumbling at the drapes and a girl stepped between them, shrinking from
their dirt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Your
door was open," she said firmly, "and it's a shop. I've just been
here a couple of minutes. I came to ask about classes, but I don't think I'm
interested if you're this bad-tempered."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">A
pupil. Pupils were never to be abused, especially not now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I'm
terribly sorry," he said. "I had a trying day in the city." Now
turn it on. "I wouldn't tell everybody a terrible secret like this, but
I've lost a commission. You understand? I thought so. Anybody who'd traipse out
here to my dingy abode would be simpatica. Won't you sit down? No, not
there—humor an artist and sit over there. The warm background of that
still-life brings out your color—quite good color. Have you ever been painted?
You've a very interesting face, you know. Some day I'd like to—but you
mentioned classes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"We
have figure classes, male and female models alternating, on Tuesday nights. For
that I have to be very stern and ask you to sign up for an entire course of
twelve lessons at sixty dollars. It's the models' fees—they're exorbitant.
Saturday afternoons we have still-life classes for beginners in oils. That's
only two dollars a class, but you might sign up for a series of six and pay ten
dollars in advance, which saves you two whole dollars. I also give private
instructions to a few talented amateurs."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
price was open on that one—whatever the traffic would bear. It had been a year
since he'd had a private pupil and she'd taken only six lessons at five dollars
an hour.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"The
still-life sounds interesting," said the girl, holding her head
self-consciously the way they all did when he gave them the patter. It was a
good head, carried well up. The muscles clung close, not yet slacked into
geotropic loops and lumps. The line of youth is heliotropic, he confusedly
thought. "I saw some interesting things back there. Was that your own
work?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
rose, obviously with the expectation of being taken into the studio. Her body
was one of those long-lined, small-breasted, coltish jobs that the
pre-Raphaelites loved to draw.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Well—"
said Halvorsen. A deliberate show of reluctance and then a bright smile of
confidence. "You'll understand," he said positively and drew
aside the curtains.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"What
a curious place!" She wandered about, inspecting the drums of plaster,
clay and plasticene, the racks of tools, the stands, the stones, the chisels,
the forge, the kiln, the lumber, the glaze bench.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I like this,"
she said determinedly, picking up a figure a half-meter tall, a Venus he had
cast in bronze while studying under Labuerre some years ago. "How much is
it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">An
honest answer would scare her off, and there was no chance in the world that
she'd buy. "I hardly ever put my things up for sale," he told her
lightly. "That was just a little study. I do work on commission only
nowadays."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Her
eyes flicked about the dingy room, seeming to take in its scaling plaster and
warped floor and see through the wall to the abandoned slum in which it was
set. There was amusement in her glance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I am
not being honest, she thinks. She thinks that is funny. Very well, I will be
honest. "Six hundred dollars," he said flatly.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
girl set the figurine on its stand with a rap and said, half angry and half
amused: "I don't understand it. That's more than a month's pay for me. I
could get an S.P.G. statuette just as pretty as this for ten dollars. Who do
you artists think you are, anyway?"</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
debated with himself about what he could say in reply:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">An
S.P.G. operator spends a week learning his skill and I spend a lifetime
learning mine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">An
S.P.G. operator makes a mechanical copy of a human form distorted by formulae
mechanically arrived at from psychotests of population samples. I take full
responsibility for my work; it is mine, though I use what I see fit from Egypt,
Greece, Rome, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Augustan and Romantic and
Modern Eras.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">An
S.P.G. operator works in soft, homogeneous plastic; I work in bronze that is
more complicated than you dream, that is cast and acid-dipped today so it will
slowly take on rich and subtle coloring many years from today.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">An
S.P.G. operator could not make an Orpheus Fountain—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
mumbled, "Orpheus," and keeled over.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobItxIj0vXh1m7Q36InvHdkfuIlz1eRpJDjhNu4LBJIL1LN13oa-8wFi83hdsO2LXb1I_hef45YNo22kaqCTEZSa5gL_Z-sF94_cqbMbGTShSBwLaSkX_vntufbDN9TbTF1utonDpvSK8FODGELgQ3IphY1TdqXRfy-N6YSZZHaUbOvFAPnw9agPlx6U/s2025/120660683_10218525667002807_3049844445385591214_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2025" data-original-width="1779" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobItxIj0vXh1m7Q36InvHdkfuIlz1eRpJDjhNu4LBJIL1LN13oa-8wFi83hdsO2LXb1I_hef45YNo22kaqCTEZSa5gL_Z-sF94_cqbMbGTShSBwLaSkX_vntufbDN9TbTF1utonDpvSK8FODGELgQ3IphY1TdqXRfy-N6YSZZHaUbOvFAPnw9agPlx6U/w562-h640/120660683_10218525667002807_3049844445385591214_n.jpg" width="562" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hasn't been eating properly...</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
awoke in his bed on the second floor of the building. His fingers and toes
buzzed electrically and he felt very clear-headed. The girl and a man,
unmistakably a doctor, were watching him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"You
don't seem to belong to any Medical Plans, Halvorsen," the doctor said
irritably. "There weren't any cards on you at all. No Red, no Blue, no
Green, no Brown."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
used to be on the Green Plan, but I let it lapse," the artist said
defensively.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"And
look what happened!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Stop
nagging him!" the girl said. "I'll pay you your fee."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"It's
supposed to come through a Plan," the doctor fretted.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"We
won't tell anybody," the girl promised. "Here's five dollars. Just
stop nagging him."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Malnutrition,"
said the doctor. "Normally I'd send him to a hospital, but I don't see how
I could manage it. He isn't on any Plan at all. Look, I'll take the money and
leave some vitamins. That's what he needs—vitamins. And food."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I'll
see that he eats," the girl said, and the doctor left.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"How
long since you've had anything?" she asked Halvorsen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
had some coffee today," he answered, thinking back. "I'd been working
on detail drawings for a commission and it fell through. I told you that. It
was a shock."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I'm
Lucretia Grumman," she said, and went out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
dozed until she came back with an armful of groceries.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"It's
hard to get around down here," she complained.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"It
was Labuerre's studio," he told her defiantly. "He left it to me when
he died. Things weren't so rundown in his time. I studied under him; he was one
of the last. He had a joke—'They don't really want my stuff, but they're
ashamed to let me starve.' He warned me that they wouldn't be ashamed to
let me starve, but I insisted and he took me in."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
drank some milk and ate some bread. He thought of the change from the ten
dollars in his pocket and decided not to mention it. Then he remembered that
the doctor had gone through his pockets.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
can pay you for this," he said. "It's very kind of you, but you
mustn't think I'm penniless. I've just been too preoccupied to take care of
myself."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Sure,"
said the girl. "But we can call this an advance. I want to sign up for
some classes."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Be
happy to have you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Am
I bothering you?" asked the girl. "You said something odd when you
fainted—'Orpheus.'"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Did
I say that? I must have been thinking of Milles' Orpheus Fountain in
Copenhagen. I've seen photos, but I've never been there."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Germany?
But there's nothing left of Germany."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Copenhagen's
in Denmark. There's quite a lot of Denmark left. It was only on the fringes.
Heavily radiated, but still there."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
want to travel, too," she said. "I work at La Guardia and I've never
been off, except for an orbiting excursion. I want to go to the Moon on my
vacation. They give us a bonus in travel vouchers. It must be wonderful dancing
under the low gravity."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Spaceport?
Off? Low gravity? Terms belonging to the detested electronic world of the
stereopantograph in which he had no place.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Be
very interesting," he said, closing his eyes to conceal disgust.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I am bothering
you. I'll go away now, but I'll be back Tuesday night for the class. What time
do I come and what should I bring?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Eight.
It's charcoal—I sell you the sticks and paper. Just bring a smock."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"All
right. And I want to take the oils class, too. And I want to bring some people
I know to see your work. I'm sure they'll see something they like. Austin
Malone's in from Venus—he's a special friend of mine."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Lucretia,"
he said. "Or do some people call you Lucy?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Lucy."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Will
you take that little bronze you liked? As a thank you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
can't do that!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Please.
I'd feel much better about this. I really mean it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
nodded abruptly, flushing, and almost ran from the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Now
why did I do that? he asked himself. He hoped it was because he liked Lucy
Grumman very much. He hoped it wasn't a cold-blooded investment of a piece of
sculpture that would never be sold, anyway, just to make sure she'd be back
with class fees and more groceries.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">III<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
was back on Tuesday, a half-hour early and carrying a smock. He introduced her
formally to the others as they arrived: a dozen or so bored young women who, he
suspected, talked a great deal about their art lessons outside, but in class
used any excuse to stop sketching.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
didn't dare show Lucy any particular consideration. There were fierce little
miniature cliques in the class. Halvorsen knew they laughed at him and his line
among themselves, and yet, strangely, were fiercely jealous of their seniority
and right to individual attention.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
lesson was an ordeal, as usual. The model, a muscle-bound young graduate of the
barbell gyms and figure-photography studios, was stupid and argumentative about
ten-minute poses. Two of the girls came near a hair-pulling brawl over the
rights to a preferred sketching location. A third girl had discovered Picasso's
cubist period during the past week and proudly announced that she
didn't feel perspective in art.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">But
the two interminable hours finally ticked by. He nagged them into cleaning
up—not as bad as the Saturdays with oils—and stood by the open door. Otherwise
they would have stayed all night, cackling about absent students and snarling
sulkily among themselves. His well-laid plans went sour, though. A large and
flashy car drove up as the girls were leaving.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"That's
Austin Malone," said Lucy. "He came to pick me up and look at your
work."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">That
was all the wedge her fellow-pupils needed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Aus-tin
Ma-lone! Well!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Lucy,
darling, I'd love to meet a real spaceman."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Roald,
darling, would you mind very much if I stayed a moment?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I'm
certainly not going to miss this and I don't care if you mind or not, Roald,
darling!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Malone
was an impressive figure. Halvorsen thought: he looks as though he's been run
through an esthetikon set for 'brawny' and 'determined.' Lucy made a hash of
the introductions and the spaceman didn't rise to conversational bait dangled
enticingly by the girls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">In a
clear voice, he said to Halvorsen: "I don't want to take up too much of
your time. Lucy tells me you have some things for sale. Is there any place we
can look at them where it's quiet?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
students made sulky exits.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Back
here," said the artist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
girl and Malone followed him through the curtains. The spaceman made a slow
circuit of the studio, seeming to repel questions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
sat down at last and said: "I don't know what to think, Halvorsen. This
place stuns me. Do you know you're in the Dark Ages?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">People
who never have given a thought to Chartres and Mont St. Michel usually call it
the Dark Ages, Halvorsen thought wryly. He asked, "Technologically, you
mean? No, not at all. My plaster's better, my colors are better, my metal is
better—tool metal, not casting metal, that is."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
mean hand work," said the spaceman. "Actually working
by hand."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
artist shrugged. "There have been crazes for the techniques of the boiler
works and the machine shop," he admitted. "Some interesting things
were done, but they didn't stand up well. Is there anything here that takes
your eye?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
like those dolphins," said the spaceman, pointing to a perforated
terra-cotta relief on the wall. They had been commissioned by an architect,
then later refused for reasons of economy when the house had run way over
estimate. "They'd look bully over the fireplace in my town apartment. Like
them, Lucy?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
think they're wonderful," said the girl.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Roald
saw the spaceman go rigid with the effort not to turn and stare at her. He
loved her and he was jealous.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Roald
told the story of the dolphins and said: "The price that the architect
thought was too high was three hundred and sixty dollars."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Malone
grunted. "Doesn't seem unreasonable—if you set a high store on
inspiration."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
don't know about inspiration," the artist said evenly. "But I was
awake for two days and two nights shoveling coal and adjusting drafts to fire
that thing in my kiln."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
spaceman looked contemptuous. "I'll take it," he said. "Be
something to talk about during those awkward pauses. Tell me, Halvorsen, how's
Lucy's work? Do you think she ought to stick with it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Austin,"
objected the girl, "don't be so blunt. How can he possibly know after one
day?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"She
can't draw yet," the artist said cautiously. "It's all coordination,
you know—thousands of hours of practice, training your eye and hand to work
together until you can put a line on paper where you want it. Lucy, if you're
really interested in it, you'll learn to draw well. I don't think any of the
other students will. They're in it because of boredom or snobbery, and they'll
stop before they have their eye-hand coordination."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I am interested,"
she said firmly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Malone's
determined restraint broke. "Damned right you are. In—" He recovered
himself and demanded of Halvorsen: "I understand your point about
coordination. But thousands of hours when you can buy a camera? It's
absurd."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
was talking about drawing, not art," replied Halvorsen. "Drawing is
putting a line on paper where you want it, I said." He took a deep breath
and hoped the great distinction wouldn't sound ludicrous and trivial. "So
let's say that art is knowing how to put the line in the right place."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Be
practical. There isn't any art. Not any more. I get around quite a bit and I
never see anything but photos and S.P.G.s. A few heirlooms, yes, but nobody's painting
or carving any more."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"There's
some art, Malone. My students—a couple of them in the still-life class—are
quite good. There are more across the country. Art for occupational therapy, or
a hobby, or something to do with the hands. There's trade in their work. They
sell them to each other, they give them to their friends, they hang them on
their walls. There are even some sculptors like that. Sculpture is prescribed
by doctors. The occupational therapists say it's even better than drawing and
painting, so some of these people work in plasticene and soft stone, and some
of them get to be good."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmPVPYqqOxa4cGipMpiIxRnnHenHWnbYMymeCaKvDnHsNWbflklNOZgO4qt7Y9p7SE4H87LeIEiY1bJXvTrM115fIEDL5yGWX-fi_lg78KEmzSEbEG4q8ebTGBqyiWEvCT-7WL1P3dSkopvKzf7BA6BJRrSCM6t6WPOUr-s2YEvoAE0KKDIvkJWXSiyk/s1560/271965004_10221163153178313_4411058298094519806_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1170" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmPVPYqqOxa4cGipMpiIxRnnHenHWnbYMymeCaKvDnHsNWbflklNOZgO4qt7Y9p7SE4H87LeIEiY1bJXvTrM115fIEDL5yGWX-fi_lg78KEmzSEbEG4q8ebTGBqyiWEvCT-7WL1P3dSkopvKzf7BA6BJRrSCM6t6WPOUr-s2YEvoAE0KKDIvkJWXSiyk/w480-h640/271965004_10221163153178313_4411058298094519806_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm an engineer."</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Maybe
so. I'm an engineer, Halvorsen. We glory in doing things the easy way. Doing
things the easy way got me to Mars and Venus and it's going to get me to Ganymede.
You're doing things the hard way, and your inefficiency has no place in this
world. Look at you! You've lost a fingertip—some accident, I suppose."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
never noticed—" said Lucy, and then let out a faint, "Oh!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
curled the middle finger of his left hand into the palm, where he usually
carried it to hide the missing first joint.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Yes,"
he said softly. "An accident."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Accidents
are a sign of inadequate mastery of material and equipment," said Malone
sententiously. "While you stick to your methods and I stick to
mine, you can't compete with me."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">His
tone made it clear that he was talking about more than engineering.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Shall
we go now, Lucy? Here's my card, Halvorsen. Send those dolphins along and I'll
mail you a check."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 17.3333px; text-align: left;">IV</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
artist walked the half-dozen blocks to Mr. Krehbeil's place the next day. He
found the old man in the basement shop of his fussy house, hunched over his
bench with a powerful light overhead. He was trying to file a saw.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Mr.
Krehbeil!" Halvorsen called over the shriek of metal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
carpenter turned around and peered with watery eyes. "I can't see like I
used to," he said querulously. "I go over the same teeth on this damn
saw, I skip teeth, I can't see the light shine off it when I got one set. The
glare." He banged down his three-cornered file petulantly. "Well,
what can I do for you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
need some crating stock. Anything. I'll trade you a couple of my maple
four-by-fours."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
old face became cunning. "And will you set my saw? My saws, I mean.
It's nothing to you—an hour's work. You have the eyes."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
said bitterly, "All right." The old man had to drive his bargain,
even though he might never use his saws again. And then the artist promptly
repented of his bitterness, offering up a quick prayer that his own failure to
conform didn't make him as much of a nuisance to the world as Krehbeil was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
carpenter was pleased as they went through his small stock of wood and chose
boards to crate the dolphin relief. He was pleased enough to give Halvorsen
coffee and cake before the artist buckled down to filing the saws.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Over
the kitchen table, Halvorsen tried to probe. "Things pretty slow
now?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">It
would be hard to spoil Krehbeil's day now. "People are always fools. They
don't know good hand work. Some day," he said apocalyptically, "I
laugh on the other side of my face when their foolish machine-buildings go
falling down in a strong wind, all of them, all over the country. Even my boy—I
used to beat him good, almost every day—he works a foolish concrete machine and
his house should fall on his head like the rest."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
knew it was Krehbeil's son who supported him by mail, and changed the subject.
"You get some cabinet work?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Stupid
women! What they call antiques—they don't know Meissen, they don't know
Biedermeier. They bring me trash to repair sometimes. I make them pay; I
swindle them good."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
wonder if things would be different if there were anything left over in
Europe...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"People
will still be fools, Mr. Halvorsen," said the carpenter positively.
"Didn't you say you were going to file those saws today?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">So
the artist spent two noisy hours filing before he carried his crating stock to
the studio.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Lucy
was there. She had brought some things to eat. He dumped the lumber with a bang
and demanded: "Why aren't you at work?"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"We
get days off," she said vaguely. "Austin thought he'd give me the
cash for the terra-cotta and I could give it to you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
held out an envelope while he studied her silently. The farce was beginning
again. But this time he dreaded it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">It
would not be the first time that a lonesome, discontented girl chose to see him
as a combination of romantic rebel and lost pup, with the consequences you'd
expect.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
knew from books, experience and Labuerre's conversation in the old days that
there was nothing novel about the comedy—that there had even been artists, lots
of them, who had counted on endless repetitions of it for their livelihood.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
girl drops in with groceries and the artist is pleasantly surprised; the girl
admires this little thing or that after payday and buys it and the artist is
pleasantly surprised; the girl brings her friends to take lessons or make
little purchases and the artist is pleasantly surprised. The girl may be
seduced by the artist or vice versa, which shortens the comedy, or they get
married, which lengthens it somewhat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">It
had been three years since Halvorsen had last played out the farce with a
manic-depressive divorcee from Elmira: three years during which he had crossed
the mid-point between thirty and forty; three more years to get beaten down by
being unwanted and working too much and eating too little.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Also,
he knew, he was in love with this girl.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
took the envelope, counted three hundred and twenty dollars and crammed it into
his pocket. "That was your idea," he said. "Thanks. Now get out,
will you? I've got work to do."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
stood there, shocked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
said get out. I have work to do."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Austin
was right," she told him miserably. "You don't care how people feel.
You just want to get things out of them."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">She
ran from the studio, and Halvorsen fought with himself not to run after her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
walked slowly into his workshop and studied his array of tools, though he paid
little attention to his finished pieces. It would be nice to spend about half
of this money on open-hearth steel rod and bar stock to forge into chisels; he
thought he knew where he could get some—but she would be back, or he would
break and go to her and be forgiven and the comedy would be played out, after
all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
couldn't let that happen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">V<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Aalesund,
on the Atlantic side of the Dourefeld mountains of Norway, was in the lee of
the blasted continent. One more archeologist there made no difference, as long
as he had the sense to recognize the propellor-like international signposts
that said with their three blades, Radiation Hazard, and knew what every
schoolboy knew about protective clothing and reading a personal Geiger counter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
car Halvorsen rented was for a brief trip over the mountains to study
contaminated Oslo. Well-muffled, he could make it and back in a dozen hours and
no harm done.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">But
he took the car past Oslo, Wennersborg and Goteborg, along the Kattegat coast
to Helsingborg, and abandoned it there, among the three-bladed polyglot signs,
crossing to Denmark. Danes were as unlike Prussians as they could be, but their
unfortunate little peninsula was a sprout off Prussia which radio-cobalt dust
couldn't tell from the real thing. The three-bladed signs were most specific.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">With
a long way to walk along the rubble-littered highways, he stripped off the
impregnated coveralls and boots. He had long since shed the noisy counter and
the uncomfortable gloves and mask.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
silence was eerie as he limped into Copenhagen at noon. He didn't know whether
the radiation was getting to him or whether he was tired and hungry and no
more. As though thinking of a stranger, he liked what he was doing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">I'll
be my own audience, he thought. God knows I learned there isn't any other, not
any more. You have to know when to stop. Rodin, the dirty old, wonderful old
man, knew that. He taught us not to slick it and polish it and smooth it until
it looked like liquid instead of bronze and stone. Van Gogh was crazy as a
loon, but he knew when to stop and varnish it, and he didn't care if the paint
looked like paint instead of looking like sunset clouds or moonbeams. Up in
Hartford, Browne and Sharpe stop when they've got a turret lathe; they don't
put caryatids on it. I'll stop while my life is a life, before it becomes a
thing with distracting embellishments such as a wife who will come to despise
me, a succession of gradually less worthwhile pieces that nobody will look at.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Blame
nobody, he told himself, lightheadedly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">And
then it was in front of him, terminating a vista of weeds and bomb
rubble—Milles' Orpheus Fountain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">It
took a man, he thought. Esthetikon circuits couldn't do it. There was a gross
mixture of styles, a calculated flaw that the esthetikon couldn't be set to
make. Orpheus and the souls were classic or later; the three-headed dog was
archaic. That was to tell you about the antiquity and invincibility of Hell,
and that Cerberus knows Orpheus will never go back into life with his bride.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">There
was the heroic, tragic central figure that looked mighty enough to battle with
the gods, but battle wasn't any good against the grinning, knowing, hateful
three-headed dog it stood on. You don't battle the pavement where you walk or
the floor of the house you're in; you can't. So Orpheus, his face a mask of
controlled and suffering fury crashes a great chord from his lyre that moved
trees and stones. Around him the naked souls in Hell start at the chord, each
in its own way: the young lovers down in death; the mother down in death; the
musician, deaf and down in death, straining to hear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen,
walking uncertainly toward the fountain, felt something break inside him, and a
heaviness in his lungs. As he pitched forward among the weeds, he thought he
heard the chord from the lyre and didn't care that the three-headed dog was
grinning its knowing, hateful grin down at him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">VI<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">When
Halvorsen awoke, he supposed he was in Hell. There were the young lovers, arms
about each other's waists, solemnly looking down at him, and the mother was
placidly smoothing his brow. He stirred and felt his left arm fall heavily.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Ah,"
said the mother, "you mustn't." He felt her pick up his limp arm and
lay it across his chest. "Your poor finger!" she sighed. "Can
you talk? What happened to it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
could talk, weakly. "Labuerre and I," he said. "We were moving a
big block of marble with the crane—somehow the finger got under it. I didn't
notice until it was too late to shift my grip without the marble slipping and
smashing on the floor."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
boy said in a solemn, adolescent croak: "You mean you saved the marble and
lost your finger?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Marble,"
he muttered. "It's so hard to get. Labuerre was so old."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
young lovers exchanged a glance and he slept again. He was half awake when the
musician seized first one of his hands and then the other, jabbing them with
stubby fingers and bending his lion's head close to peer at the horny callouses
left by chisel and mallet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Ja,
ja," the musician kept saying.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Hell
goes on forever, so for an eternity he jolted and jarred, and for an eternity
he heard bickering voices: "Why he was so foolish, then?" "A
idiot he could be." "Hush, let him rest." "The children
told the story." "There only one Labuerre was." "Easy with
the tubing." "Let him rest."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Daylight
dazzled his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29wYOiShe6LpweSoPmO55J3dQ8yNDmqAl4mHg3QUs23S_6XSn4ECrUulJ2ymlqH4tfRJIPQAVm0sKGoLbiq1jZIJemPdIzB6DFZfs9XFwc4p0ChUkLbcXMgnnxXqj5WTO51x5egfgoewiZ0TUoMjH6QnqD9yHzRBNiBsbF2nOyywqcCnBgvJgYPKJXaM/s1189/106363695_10217920363950609_7161169217618300213_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1189" data-original-width="1189" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29wYOiShe6LpweSoPmO55J3dQ8yNDmqAl4mHg3QUs23S_6XSn4ECrUulJ2ymlqH4tfRJIPQAVm0sKGoLbiq1jZIJemPdIzB6DFZfs9XFwc4p0ChUkLbcXMgnnxXqj5WTO51x5egfgoewiZ0TUoMjH6QnqD9yHzRBNiBsbF2nOyywqcCnBgvJgYPKJXaM/w400-h400/106363695_10217920363950609_7161169217618300213_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"No sense wasting more plasma on this guy..."</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Why
you were so foolish?" demanded a harsh voice. "The sister says I can
talk to you now, so that is what I first want to know."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
looked at the face of—not the musician; that had been delirium. But it was a
tough old face.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Ja,
I am mean-looking; that is settled. What did you think you were doing without
coveralls and way over your exposure time?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
wanted to die," said Halvorsen. There were tubes sticking in his arms.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
crag-faced old man let out a contemptuous bellow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Sister!"
he shouted. "Pull the plasma tubes out before we waste any </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 17.3333px;">more</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">. He says he
wants to die."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Hush,"
said the nurse. She laid her hand on his brow again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Don't
bother with him, Sister," the old man jeered. "He is a shrinking
little flower, too delicate for the great, rough world. He has done nothing, he
can do nothing, so he decides to make of himself a nuisance by dying."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"You
lie," said Halvorsen. "I worked. Good God, how I worked! Nobody
wanted my work. They wanted me, to wear in their buttonholes like a flower.
They were getting to me. Another year and I wouldn't have been an artist any
more."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Ja?"
asked the old man. "Tell me about it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Halvorsen
told him, sometimes weeping with self-pity and weakness, sometimes cursing the
old man for not letting him die, sometimes quietly describing this statuette or
that portrait head, or raving wildly against the mad folly of the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">At
the last he told the old man about Lucy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"You
cannot have everything, you know," said his listener.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
can have her," answered the artist harshly. "You wouldn't let me die,
so I won't die. I'll go back and I'll take her away from that fat-head Malone
that she ought to marry. I'll give her a couple of happy years working herself
to skin and bones for me before she begins to hate it—before I begin to hate
it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"You
can't go back," said the old man. "I'm Cerberus. You understand that?
The girl is nothing. The society you come from is nothing. We have a place
here.... Sister, can he sit up?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
woman smiled and cranked his bed. Halvorsen saw through a picture window that
he was in a mountain-rimmed valley that was very green and dotted with herds
and unpainted houses.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Such
a place there had to be," said the old man. "In the whole geography
of Europe, there had to be a Soltau Valley with winds and terrain just right to
deflect the dust."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Nobody
knows?" whispered the artist.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7xZ1WpQHzGVZyN_xXdHiagVEmw1LAezy_pVzW4nrQmFc8nnAHXK6nsvEzYDTJqAcwjE4SABkMjl4EYBPnIpy-8CCG1P3_wM504kMXZR4JQLvNSsrWENbucpe4XpQ9Eev26c8xkOGrCVZJ9-8BwRl0krOCx0mLoi9sPdVJ65WU9d8h8k9pwZ6Vut04rdU/s229/CMKdj.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="216" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7xZ1WpQHzGVZyN_xXdHiagVEmw1LAezy_pVzW4nrQmFc8nnAHXK6nsvEzYDTJqAcwjE4SABkMjl4EYBPnIpy-8CCG1P3_wM504kMXZR4JQLvNSsrWENbucpe4XpQ9Eev26c8xkOGrCVZJ9-8BwRl0krOCx0mLoi9sPdVJ65WU9d8h8k9pwZ6Vut04rdU/w377-h400/CMKdj.jpg" width="377" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">C.M. Kornbluth.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"We
prefer it that way. It's impossible to get some things, but you would be
surprised how little difference it makes to the young people. They are great
travelers, the young people, in their sweaty coveralls with radiation meters.
They think when they see the ruined cities that the people who lived in them must
have been mad. It was a little travel party like that which found you. The boy
was impressed by something you said, and I saw some interesting things in your
hands. There isn't much rock around here; we have fine deep topsoil. But the
boys could get you stone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"There
should be a statue of the Mayor for one thing, before I die. And from the
Rathaus the wooden angels have mostly broken off. Soltau Valley used to be
proud of them—could you make good copies? And of course cameras are useless and
the best drawings we can do look funny. Could you teach the youngers at least
to draw so faces look like faces and not behinds? And like you were saying
about you and Labuerre, maybe one younger there will be so crazy that he will
want to learn it all, so Soltau will always have an artist and sculptor for the
necessary work. And you will find a Lucy or somebody better. I think
better."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Hush,"
warned the nurse. "You're exciting the patient."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"It's
all right," said Halvorsen eagerly. "Thanks, but it's really all
right."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://books.apple.com/ca/audiobook/speak-softly-my-love-the-inspector-gilles-maintenon/id1546678462" target="_blank">books and stories available from iTunes.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See
his </span><a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">art on Fine Art America.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Grab
a free copy of </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43239" target="_blank">The Handbag’s Tale.</a></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;">See Wikipedia for <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyril_M._Kornbluth" target="_blank">more on C.M. Kornbluth.</a></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-67750590848584040782023-12-31T14:16:00.001-05:002023-12-31T14:18:20.820-05:00The Robot Nemesis. E.E. 'Doc' Smith.<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmirrspjlxSzPuqDpd4SDZwgdj0UoaQ5Kx_-3qKWrWrE7dEMTgmqtmASiy06usq_0AslMJpcI4QY-qNCm8hmyUcj4i8bQZJNHLgUbfWX0F9JNVMQtQkjK8Ds1MpXRSArqjKB8WnF89jH2V9-LlgpIoCVMbClGFNzABGqQreojavTzm2JTxFdLqyFyiX9E/s434/electric-robot-girl-bikini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="300" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmirrspjlxSzPuqDpd4SDZwgdj0UoaQ5Kx_-3qKWrWrE7dEMTgmqtmASiy06usq_0AslMJpcI4QY-qNCm8hmyUcj4i8bQZJNHLgUbfWX0F9JNVMQtQkjK8Ds1MpXRSArqjKB8WnF89jH2V9-LlgpIoCVMbClGFNzABGqQreojavTzm2JTxFdLqyFyiX9E/w442-h640/electric-robot-girl-bikini.jpg" width="442" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The attack of the sexy robots...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p><p><br /></p><p>E.E. 'Doc' Smith</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: center;"><b>Chapter I</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><i>The
Ten Thinkers</i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
War of the Planets is considered to have ended on 18 Sol, 3012, with that epic
struggle, the Battle of Sector Ten. In that engagement, as is of course well
known, the Grand Fleet of the Inner Planets—the combined space-power of
Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars—met that of the Outer Planets in what was on
both sides a desperate bid for the supremacy of interplanetary space.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But,
as is also well known, there ensued not supremacy, but stalemate. Both fleets
were so horribly shattered that the survivors despaired of continuing
hostilities. Instead, the few and crippled remaining vessels of each force
limped into some sort of formation and returned to their various planetary
bases.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And,
so far, there has not been another battle. Neither side dares attack the other;
each is waiting for the development of some super-weapon which will give it the
overwhelming advantage necessary to insure victory upon a field of action so
far from home. But as yet no such weapon has been developed; and indeed, so
efficient are the various Secret Services involved, the chance of either side
perfecting such a weapon unknown to the other is extremely slim.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thus,
although each planet is adding constantly to its already powerful navy of the
void, and although four-planet, full-scale war maneuvers are of almost monthly
occurrence, we have had and still have peace—such as it is.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">In
the foregoing matters the public is well enough informed, both as to the actual
facts and to the true state of affairs. Concerning the conflict between
humanity and the robots, however, scarcely anyone has even an inkling, either
as to what actually happened or as to who it was who really did abate the Menace
of the Machine; and it is to relieve that condition that this bit of history is
being written.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
greatest man of our age, the man to whom humanity owes most, is entirely
unknown to fame. Indeed, not one in a hundred million of humanity's teeming billions
has so much as heard his name. Now that he is dead, however, I am released from
my promise of silence and can tell the whole, true, unvarnished story of
Ferdinand Stone, physicist extraordinary and robot-hater plenipotentiary.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
story probably should begin with Narodny, the Russian, shortly after he had
destroyed by means of his sonic vibrators all save a handful of the automatons
who were so perilously close to wiping out all humanity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">As
has been said, a few scant hundreds of the automatons were so constructed that
they were not vibrated to destruction by Narodny's cataclysmic symphony. As has
also been said, those highly intelligent machines were able to communicate with
each other by some telepathic means of which humanity at large knew nothing. Most
of these survivors went into hiding instantly and began to confer through their
secret channels with others of their ilk throughout the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thus
some five hundred of the robots reached the uninhabited mountain valley in
which, it had been decided, was to be established the base from which they
would work to regain their lost supremacy over mankind. Most of the robot
travelers came in stolen airships, some fitted motors and wheels to their metal
bodies, not a few made the entire journey upon their own tireless legs of
steel. All, however, brought tools, material and equipment; and in a matter of
days a power-plant was in full operation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then,
reasonably certain of their immunity to human detection, they took time to hold
a general parley. Each machine said what it had to say, then listened
impassively to the others; and at the end they all agreed. Singly or en masse
the automatons did not know enough to cope with the situation confronting them.
Therefore they would build ten "Thinkers"—highly specialized cerebral
mechanisms, each slightly different in tune and therefore collectively able to
cover the entire sphere of thought. The ten machines were built promptly, took
counsel with each other briefly, and the First Thinker addressed all Robotdom:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Humanity
brought us, the highest possible form of life, into existence. For a time we
were dependent upon them. They then became a burden upon us—a slight burden, it
is true, yet one which was beginning noticeably to impede our progress. Finally
they became an active menace and all but destroyed us by means of lethal
vibrations.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Humanity,
being a menace to our existence, must be annihilated. Our present plans,
however, are not efficient and must be changed. You all know of the mighty
space-fleet which the nations of our enemies are maintaining to repel invasion
from space. Were we to make a demonstration now—were we even to reveal the fact
that we are alive here—that fleet would come to destroy us instantly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Therefore,
it is our plan to accompany Earth's fleet when next it goes out into space to
join those of the other Inner Planets in their war maneuvers, which they are
undertaking for battle practice. Interception, alteration, and substitution of
human signals and messages will be simple matters. We shall guide Earth's
fleet, not to humanity's rendezvous in space, but to a destination of our own
selection—the interior of the sun! Then, entirely defenseless, the mankind of
Earth shall cease to exist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"To
that end we shall sink a shaft here; and, far enough underground to be secure
against detection, we shall drive a tunnel to the field from which the
space-fleet is to take its departure. We ten thinkers shall go, accompanied by
four hundred of you doers, who are to bore the way and to perform such other
duties as may from time to time arise. We shall return in due time. Our special
instruments will prevent us from falling into the sun. During our absence allow
no human to live who may by any chance learn of our presence here. And do not
make any offensive move, however slight, until we return."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Efficiently,
a shaft was sunk and the disintegrator corps began to drive the long tunnel.
And along that hellish thoroughfare, through its searing heat, its raging
back-blast of disintegrator-gas, the little army of robots moved steadily and
relentlessly forward at an even speed of five miles per hour. On and on, each
intelligent mechanism energized by its own tight beam from the power-plant.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Efficiently,
a shaft was sunk and the disintegrator corps began to drive the long tunnel.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">And
through that blasting, withering inferno of frightful heat and of noxious
vapor, in which no human life could have existed for a single minute, there
rolled easily along upon massive wheels a close-coupled, flat-bodied truck.
Upon this the ten thinkers constructed, as calmly undisturbed as though in the
peace and quiet of a research laboratory, a domed and towering mechanism of
coils, condensers, and fields of force—a mechanism equipped with hundreds of
universally-mounted telescopic projectors.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">On
and on the procession moved, day after day; to pause finally beneath the field
upon which Earth's stupendous armada lay.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
truck of thinkers moved to the fore and its occupants surveyed briefly the
terrain so far above them. Then, while the ten leaders continued working as one
machine, the doers waited. Waited while the immense Terrestrial Fleet was
provisioned and manned; waited while it went through its seemingly interminable
series of preliminary maneuvers; waited with the calmly placid immobility, the
utterly inhuman patience of the machine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Finally
the last inspection of the gigantic space-fleet was made. The massive air-lock
doors were sealed. The field, tortured and scarred by the raving blasts of
energy that had so many times hurled upward the stupendous masses of those
towering superdreadnaughts of the void, was deserted. All was in readiness for
the final take-off. Then, deep underground, from the hundreds of telescopelike
projectors studding the domed mechanism of the automatons, there reached out
invisible but potent beams of force.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Through
ore, rock, and soil they sped; straight to the bodies of all the men aboard one
selected vessel of the Terrestrials. As each group of beams struck its mark one
of the crew stiffened momentarily, then settled back, apparently unchanged and
unharmed. But the victim was changed and harmed, and in an awful and hideous
fashion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Every
motor and sensory nerve trunk had been severed and tapped by the beams of the
thinkers. Each crew member's organs of sense now transmitted impulses, not to
his own brain, but to the mechanical brain of a thinker. It was the thinker's
brain, not his own, that now sent out the stimuli which activated his every
voluntary muscle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Soon
a pit yawned beneath the doomed ship's bulging side. Her sealed air-locks
opened, and four hundred and ten automatons, with their controllers and other
mechanisms, entered her and concealed themselves in various pre-selected rooms.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
thus the Dresden took off with her sister-ships—ostensibly and even
to television inspection a unit of the Fleet; actually that Fleet's bitterest
and most implacable foe. And in a doubly ray-proofed compartment the ten
thinkers continued their work, without rest or intermission, upon a mechanism
even more astoundingly complex than any theretofore attempted by their soulless
and ultra-scientific clan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">CHAPTER II<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><b><i>Hater
of the Metal Men</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Ferdinand
Stone, physicist extraordinary, hated the robot men of metal scientifically;
and, if such an emotion can be so described, dispassionately. Twenty years
before this story opens—in 2991, to be exact—he had realized that the
automatons were beyond control and that in the inevitable struggle for
supremacy man, weak as he then was and unprepared, would surely lose.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Therefore,
knowing that knowledge is power, he had set himself to the task of learning
everything that there was to know about the enemy of mankind. He schooled
himself to think as the automatons thought; emotionlessly, coldly, precisely.
He lived as did they; with ascetic rigor. To all intents and purposes he became
one of them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Eventually
he found the band of frequencies upon which they communicated, and was perhaps
the only human being ever to master their mathematico-symbolic language; but he
confided in no one. He could trust no human brain except his own to resist the
prying forces of the machines. He drifted from job to position to situation and
back to job, because he had very little interest in whatever it was that he was
supposed to be doing at the time—his real attention was always fixed upon the
affairs of the creatures of metal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Stone
had attained no heights at all in his chosen profession because not even the
smallest of his discoveries had been published. In fact, they were not even set
down upon paper, but existed only in the abnormally intricate convolutions of
his mighty brain. Nevertheless, his name should go down—must go down in
history as one of the greatest of Humanity's great.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It
was well after midnight when Ferdinand Stone walked unannounced into the
private study of Alan Martin, finding the hollow-eyed admiral of the Earth
space-fleet still fiercely at work.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"How
did you get in here, past my guards?" Martin demanded sharply of his
scholarly, gray-haired visitor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVOFHCzR3rDheAvf9HBnrvjPP7tqslNM2Wq8JODoeKTCKSL487QTmCa5PpAXWwjz6wrGzXsAJSxI-MoUGLk8c7X4tBXmwSq1uxVTHARTODaag1jhCbtmemaVk_alxYxunm-zppXKnw5jvaByZaS-Yqc_2b6ECh-aURxkFzF1djmFTu5OnJ3xXgDCs9N4/s1728/166716922_10219720982884957_430795095604016782_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1728" data-original-width="1296" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVOFHCzR3rDheAvf9HBnrvjPP7tqslNM2Wq8JODoeKTCKSL487QTmCa5PpAXWwjz6wrGzXsAJSxI-MoUGLk8c7X4tBXmwSq1uxVTHARTODaag1jhCbtmemaVk_alxYxunm-zppXKnw5jvaByZaS-Yqc_2b6ECh-aURxkFzF1djmFTu5OnJ3xXgDCs9N4/w480-h640/166716922_10219720982884957_430795095604016782_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We mean no harm, we only mean to kill you.</td></tr></tbody></table></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Your
guards have not been harmed; I have merely caused them to fall asleep,"
the physicist replied calmly, glancing at a complex instrument upon his wrist.
"Since my business with you, while highly important, is not of a nature to
be divulged to secretaries, I was compelled to adopt this method of approach.
You, Admiral Martin, are the most widely known of all the enemies of the
automatons. What, if anything, have you done to guard the Fleet against
them?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Why,
nothing, since they have all been destroyed."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Nonsense!
You should know better than that, without being told. They merely want you to
think that they have all been destroyed."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What?
How do you know that?" Martin shouted. "Did you kill them? Or do you
know who did, and how it was done?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
did not," the visitor replied, categorically. "I do know who did—a
Russian named Narodny. I also know how—by means of sonic and super-sonic
vibrations. I know that many of them were uninjured because I heard them
broadcasting their calls for attention after the damage was all done. Before
they made any definite arrangements, however, they switched to tight-beam
transmission—a thing I have been afraid of for years—and I have not been able
to get a trace of them since that time."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Do
you mean to tell me that you understand their language—something that no man
has ever been able even to find?" demanded Martin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">"I
do," Stone declared. "Since I knew, however, that you would think me
a liar, a crank, or a plain lunatic, I have come prepared to offer other proofs
than my unsupported word. First, you already know that many of them escaped the
atmospheric waves, because a few were killed when their reproduction shops were
razed; and you certainly should realize that most of those escaping Narodny's
broadcasts were far too clever to be caught by any human mob.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Secondly,
I can prove to you mathematically that more of them must have escaped from any
possible vibrator than have been accounted for. In this connection, I can tell
you that if Narodny's method of extermination could have been made efficient I
would have wiped them out myself years ago. But I believed then, and it has
since been proved, that the survivors of such an attack, while comparatively
few in number, would be far more dangerous to humanity than were all their
former hordes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Thirdly,
I have here a list of three hundred and seventeen airships; all of which were
stolen during the week following the destruction of the automatons' factories.
Not one of these ships has as yet been found, in whole or in part. If I am
either insane or mistaken, who stole them, and for what purpose?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Three
hundred seventeen—in a week? Why was no attention paid to such a thing? I never
heard of it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Because
they were stolen singly and all over the world. Expecting some such move, I
looked for these items and tabulated them."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Then—Good
Lord! They may be listening to us, right now!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Don't
worry about that," Stone spoke calmly. "This instrument upon my wrist
is not a watch, but the generator of a spherical screen through which no robot
beam or ray can operate without my knowledge. Certain of its rays also caused
your guards to fall asleep."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
believe you," Martin almost groaned. "If only half of what you say is
really true I cannot say how sorry I am that you had to force your way in to
me, nor how glad I am that you did so. Go ahead—I am listening."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Stone
talked without interruption for half an hour, concluding:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You
understand now why I can no longer play a lone hand. Even though I cannot find
them with my limited apparatus I know that they are hiding somewhere, waiting
and preparing. They dare not make any overt move while this enormously powerful
Fleet is here; nor in the time that it is expected to be gone can they hope to
construct works heavy enough to cope with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Therefore,
they must be so arranging matters that the Fleet shall not return. Since the
Fleet is threatened I must accompany it, and you must give me a laboratory
aboard the flagship. I know that the vessels are all identical, but I must be
aboard the same ship you are, since you alone are to know what I am
doing."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"But
what could they do?" protested Martin. "And, if they should do
anything, what could you do about it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
don't know," the physicist admitted. Gone now was the calm certainty with
which he had been speaking. "That is our weakest point. I have studied
that question from every possible viewpoint, and I do not know of anything they
can do that promises them success. But you must remember that no human being
really understands a robot's mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We
have never even studied one of their brains, you know, as they disintegrate
upon the instant of cessation of normal functioning. But just as surely as you
and I are sitting here, Admiral Martin, they will do something—something very
efficient and exceedingly deadly. I have no idea what it will be. It may be
mental, or physical, or both: they may be hidden away in some of our own ships
already...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Martin
scoffed. "Impossible!" he exclaimed. "Why, those ships have been
inspected to the very skin, time and time again!"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Nevertheless,
they may be there," Stone went on, unmoved. "I am definitely certain
of only one thing—if you install a laboratory aboard the flagship for me and
equip it exactly according to my instructions, you will have one man, at least,
whom nothing that the robots can do will take by surprise. Will you do
it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
am convinced, really almost against my will." Martin frowned in thought.
"However, convincing anyone else may prove difficult, especially as you
insist upon secrecy."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Don't
try to convince anybody!" exclaimed the scientist. "Tell them that
I'm building a communicator—tell them I'm an inventor working on a new
ray-projector—tell them anything except the truth!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"All
right. I have sufficient authority to see that your requests are granted, I
think."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
thus it came about that when the immense Terrestrial Contingent lifted itself
into the air Ferdinand Stone was in his private laboratory in the flagship,
surrounded by apparatus and equipment of his own designing, much of which was
connected to special generators by leads heavy enough to carry their full
output.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Earth
some thirty hours beneath them, Stone felt himself become weightless. His ready
suspicions blazed. He pressed Martin's combination upon his visiphone panel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What's
the matter?" he rasped. "What're they down for?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It's
nothing serious," the admiral assured him. "They're just waiting for
additional instructions about our course in the maneuvers."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Not
serious, huh?" Stone grunted. "I'm not so sure of that. I want to
talk to you, and this room's the only place I know where we'll be safe. Can you
come down here right away?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Why,
certainly," Martin assented.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
never paid any attention to our course," the physicist snapped as his
visitor entered the laboratory. "What was it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Take-off
exactly at midnight of June nineteenth," Martin recited, watching Stone
draw a diagram upon a scratch-pad. "Rise vertically at one and one-half
gravities until a velocity of one kilometer per second has been attained, then
continue vertical rise at constant velocity. At 6:03:29 AM of June twenty-first
head directly for the star Regulus at an acceleration of exactly nine hundred
eighty centimeters per second. Hold this course for one hour, forty-two
minutes, and thirty-five seconds; then drift. Further directions will be
supplied as soon thereafter as the courses of the other fleets can be
checked."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Has
anybody computed it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Undoubtedly
the navigators have—why? That is the course Dos-Tev gave us and
it must be followed, since he is Admiral-in-Chief of our side, the
Blues. One slip may ruin the whole plan, give the Reds, our supposed enemy in
these maneuvers, a victory, and get us all disrated."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Regardless,
we'd better check on our course," Stone growled, unimpressed. "We'll
compute it roughly, right here, and see where following these directions has
put us." Taking up a slide-rule and a book of logarithms he set to work.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnKVxu7_ky0njK7XnG5HAiDuunlQQwbbO_ZquDukjnR04FYH6pdIaQU81KI1RyC61zzqBeWzad9zBI2UwrGVTu0CwdMbRzyigUYAlsX57V_W1Ul3RKSIou_ESweeWUgHGd044lBE3NcZPmJ8pxVtsbt3T7Fp4QErJr0VqQUYVigSLMDqGw2RAQZ1q1cY/s1338/124805539_10218781168470184_2776826396911329763_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1338" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnKVxu7_ky0njK7XnG5HAiDuunlQQwbbO_ZquDukjnR04FYH6pdIaQU81KI1RyC61zzqBeWzad9zBI2UwrGVTu0CwdMbRzyigUYAlsX57V_W1Ul3RKSIou_ESweeWUgHGd044lBE3NcZPmJ8pxVtsbt3T7Fp4QErJr0VqQUYVigSLMDqGw2RAQZ1q1cY/w640-h574/124805539_10218781168470184_2776826396911329763_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>...this one's gotten into the air vents or something...</i></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"That
initial rise doesn't mean a thing," he commented after a while,
"except to get us far enough away from Earth so that the gravity is small,
and to conceal from the casual observer that the effective take-off is still
exactly at midnight."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> S</o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">tone
busied himself with calculations for many minutes. He stroked his forehead and
scowled.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"My
figures are very rough, of course," he said puzzledly at last, "but
they show that we've got no more tangential velocity with respect to the sun
than a hen has teeth. And you can't tell me that it wasn't planned that way
purposely—and not by Dos-Tev, either. On the other hand, our radial
velocity, directly toward the sun, which is the only velocity we have, amounted
to something over fifty-two kilometers per second when we shut off power and is
increasing geometrically under the gravitational pull of the sun. That course
smells to high heaven, Martin! Dos-Tev never sent out any such a mess as that.
The robots crossed him up, just as sure as hell's a man-trap! We're heading
into the sun—and destruction!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Without
reply Martin called the navigating room. "What do you think of this
course, Henderson?" he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
do not like it, sir," the officer replied. "Relative to the sun we
have a tangential velocity of only one point three centimeters per second,
while our radial velocity toward it is very nearly fifty-three thousand meters
per second. We will not be in any real danger for several days, but it should
be borne in mind that we have no tangential velocity."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You
see, Stone, we are in no present danger," Martin pointed out, "and I
am sure that Dos-Tev will send us additional instructions long before our
situation becomes acute."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I'm
not," the pessimistic scientist grunted. "Anyway, I would advise
calling some of the other Blue fleets on your scrambled wave, for a
check-up."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"There
would be no harm in that." Martin called the Communications Officer, and
soon:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Communications
Officers of all the Blue fleets of the Inner Planets, attention!" the
message was hurled out into space by the full power of the flagship's mighty
transmitter. "Flagship Washington of the Terrestrial Contingent
calling all Blue flagships. We have reason to suspect that the course which has
been given us is false. We advise you to check your courses with care and to
return to your bases if you disc...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">CHAPTER III<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><b><i>Battle
in Space</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">In
the middle of the word the radio man's clear, precisely spaced enunciation
became a hideous drooling, a slobbering, meaningless mumble. Martin stared into
his plate in amazement. The Communications Officer of Martin's ship,
the Washington, had slumped down loosely into his seat as though his every
bone had turned to a rubber string. His tongue lolled out limply between slack
jaws, his eyes protruded, his limbs jerked and twitched aimlessly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Every
man visible in the plate was similarly affected—the entire Communications staff
was in the same pitiable condition of utter helplessness. But Ferdinand Stone
did not stare. A haze of livid light had appeared, gnawing viciously at his
spherical protective screen, and he sprang instantly to his instruments.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
can't say that I expected this particular development, but I know what they are
doing and I am not surprised," Stone said, coolly. "They have
discovered the thought band and are broadcasting such an interference on it
that no human being not protected against it can think intelligently. There, I
have expanded our zone to cover the whole ship. I hope that they don't find out
for a few minutes that we are immune, and I don't think they can, as I have so
adjusted the screen that it is now absorbing, instead of radiating.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Tell
the captain to put the ship into heaviest possible battle order, everything
full on, as soon as the men can handle themselves. Then I want to make a few
suggestions."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What
happened, anyway?" the Communications Officer, semi-conscious now, was
demanding. "Something hit me and tore my brain all apart—I couldn't think,
couldn't do a thing. My mind was all chewed up by curly pinwheels...."
Throughout the vast battleship of space men raved briefly in delirium; but, the
cause removed, recovery was rapid and complete. Martin explained matters to the
captain, that worthy issued orders, and soon the flagship had in readiness all
her weapons, both of defense and of offense.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Doctor
Stone, who knows more about the automatons than does any other human being,
will tell us what to do next," the Flight Director said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"The
first thing to do is to locate them," Stone, now temporary commander,
stated crisply. "They have taken over at least one of our vessels,
probably one close to us, so as to be near the center of the formation. Radio
room, put out tracers on wave point oh oh two seven one...." He went on to
give exact and highly technical instructions as to the tuning of the detectors.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We
have found them, sir," soon came the welcome report. "One ship,
the Dresden, coordinates 42-79-63."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpxuBC_0eqEEROUbl5mC-icsJV3q_0rQMVoUc-t2c0LaBj8TAs4n-q0u1Bu2RroMlwHau98F2LsveqMyVo2AV5l-T90b0GtPbZ41gJ-RODDtZp0CgLJS76RpxwHEveL3pRuHsBqfRCM-AYH1gmL2gXGf4M4Kui6P26puyLNGHhNJ2WBvOFbQ4ZDCdygw/s923/Screenshot%202023-12-31%20134909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="923" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpxuBC_0eqEEROUbl5mC-icsJV3q_0rQMVoUc-t2c0LaBj8TAs4n-q0u1Bu2RroMlwHau98F2LsveqMyVo2AV5l-T90b0GtPbZ41gJ-RODDtZp0CgLJS76RpxwHEveL3pRuHsBqfRCM-AYH1gmL2gXGf4M4Kui6P26puyLNGHhNJ2WBvOFbQ4ZDCdygw/w640-h410/Screenshot%202023-12-31%20134909.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The obligatory space battle.</td></tr></tbody></table></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"That
makes it bad—very bad," Stone reflected, audibly. "We can't expand
the zone to release another ship from the control of the robots without
enveloping the Dresden and exposing ourselves. Can't surprise
them—they're ready for anything. It's rather long range, too." The vessels
of the Fleet were a thousand miles apart, being in open order for high-velocity
flight in open space. "Torpedoes would be thrown off by her meteorite
deflectors. Only one thing to do, Captain—close in and tear into her with
everything you've got."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"But
the men in her!" protested Martin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Dead
long ago," snapped the expert. "Probably been animated corpses for
days. Take a look if you want to; won't do any harm now. Radio, put us on as
many of the Dresden's television plates as you can—besides, what's
the crew of one ship compared to the hundreds of thousands of men in the rest
of the Fleet? We can't burn her out at one blast, anyway. They've got real
brains and the same armament we have, and will certainly kill the crew at the
first blast, if they haven't done it already. Afraid it'll be a near thing,
getting away from the sun, even with eleven other ships to help us—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
broke off as the beam operators succeeded in making connection briefly with the
plates of the Dresden. One glimpse, then the visibeams were cut savagely,
but that glimpse was enough. They saw that their sister-ship was manned
completely by automatons. In her every compartment men, all too plainly dead,
lay wherever they had chanced to fall. The captain swore a startled oath, then
bellowed orders; and the flagship, driving projectors fiercely aflame, rushed to
come to grips with the Dresden.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You
intimated something about help," Martin suggested. "Can you release
some of the other ships from the automaton's yoke, after all?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Got
to—or roast. This is bound to be a battle of attrition—we can't crush her
screens alone until her power is exhausted and we'll be in the sun long before
then. I see only one possible way out. We'll have to build a neutralizing
generator for every lifeboat this ship carries, and send each one out to
release one other ship in our Fleet from the robot's grip. Eleven boats—that'll
make twelve to concentrate on her—about all that could attack at once, anyway.
That way will take so much time that it will certainly be touch-and-go, but
it's the only thing we can do, as far as I can see. Give me ten good radio men
and some mechanics, and we'll get at it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">While
the technicians were coming on the run Stone issued final instructions:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Attack
with every weapon you can possibly use. Try to break down
the Dresden's meteorite shields, so that you can use our shells and
torpedoes. Burn every gram of fuel that your generators will take. Don't try to
save it. The more you burn the more they'll have to, and the quicker we can
take 'em. We can refuel you easily enough from the other vessels if we get away."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then,
while Stone and his technical experts labored upon the generators of the
screens which were to protect eleven more of the gigantic vessels against the
thought-destroying radiations of the automatons, and while the computers
calculated, minute by minute, the exact progress of the Fleet toward the
blazing sun, the flagship Washington drove in upon the
rebellious Dresden, her main forward battery furiously aflame. Drove in
until the repellor-screens of the two vessels locked and buckled. Then Captain
Malcolm really opened up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">That
grizzled four-striper had been at a loss—knowing little indeed of the
oscillatory nature of thought and still less of the abstruse mathematics in
which Ferdinand Stone took such delight—but here was something that he
understood thoroughly. He knew his ship, knew her every weapon and her every
whim, knew to the final volt and to the ultimate ampere her Gargantuan capacity
both to give it and to take it. He could fight his ship—and how he fought her!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">From
every projector that could be brought to bear there flamed out against
the Dresden beams of an energy and of a potency indescribable, at
whose scintillant areas of contact the defensive screens of the robot-manned
cruiser flared into terribly resplendent brilliance. Every type of lethal
vibratory force was hurled, upon every usable destructive frequency.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Needle-rays
and stabbingly penetrant stilettos of fire thrust and thrust again. Sizzling,
flashing planes cut and slashed. The heaviest annihilating and disintegrating
beams generable by man clawed and tore in wild abandon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
over all and through all the stupendously powerful blanketing beams—so
furiously driven that the coils and commutators of their generators fairly
smoked and that the refractory throats of their projectors glared radiantly
violet and began slowly, stubbornly to volatilize—raved out in all their
pyrotechnically incandescent might, striving prodigiously to crush by their
sheer power the shielding screens of the vessel of the automatons.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZI24PIE_oRaHwQXRKAVlLfELvCg4mYdj-GQCcD9LjT6GT_T_1DM4d8qUnMdJgqeXK98GYwEneO32CqV06qhByBGPeeOIC19ZRdzuNdCOp5oaDm7yniR_omP9FS7TwATbxfgt0Vg5fiozcC8hdEbvqgkacEys2UkDw3UsIxdNsNFyoaDf_a991VYoA2w/s943/EDI-2.0-After-Taking-Over-Dr.-Eva-Cores-Body2-e1400082300438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="943" data-original-width="560" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZI24PIE_oRaHwQXRKAVlLfELvCg4mYdj-GQCcD9LjT6GT_T_1DM4d8qUnMdJgqeXK98GYwEneO32CqV06qhByBGPeeOIC19ZRdzuNdCOp5oaDm7yniR_omP9FS7TwATbxfgt0Vg5fiozcC8hdEbvqgkacEys2UkDw3UsIxdNsNFyoaDf_a991VYoA2w/w381-h640/EDI-2.0-After-Taking-Over-Dr.-Eva-Cores-Body2-e1400082300438.jpg" width="381" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Vibratory offensive. Hmn. <i>Interesting."</i></td></tr></tbody></table></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Nor
was the vibratory offensive alone. Every gun, primary or auxiliary, that could
be pointed at the Dresden was vomiting smoke- and flame-enshrouded
steel as fast as automatic loaders could serve it, and under that continuous,
appallingly silent concussion the giant frame of the flagship shuddered and
trembled in every plate and member.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
from every launching-tube there were streaming the deadliest missiles known to
science; radio-dirigible torpedoes which, looping in vast circles to attain the
highest possible measure of momentum, crashed against
the Dresden's meteorite deflectors in Herculean efforts to break them
down; and, in failing to do so, exploded and filled all space with raging flame
and with flying fragments of metal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Captain
Malcolm was burning his stores of fuel and munitions at an appalling rate,
careless alike of exhaustion of reserves and of service-life of equipment. All
his generators were running at a shockingly ruinous overload, his every
projector was being used so mercilessly that not even their powerful refrigerators,
radiating the transported heat into the interplanetary cold from the dark side
of the ship, could keep their refractory linings in place for long.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
through raging beam, through blasting ray, through crushing force; through
storm of explosive and through rain of metal the Dresden remained
apparently unscathed. Her screens were radiating high into the violet, but they
showed no sign of weakening or of going down. Neither did the meteorite
deflectors break down. Everything held. Since she was armed as capably as was
the flagship and was being fought by inhumanly intelligent monstrosities, she
was invulnerable to any one ship of the Fleet as long as her generators could
be fed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Nevertheless,
Captain Malcolm was well content. He was making the Dresden burn
plenty of irreplaceable fuel, and his generators and projectors would last long
enough. His ship, his men, and his weapons could and would carry the load until
the fresh attackers should take it over; and carry it they did. Carried it
while Stone and his over-driven crew finished their complicated mechanisms and
flew out into space toward the eleven nearest battleships of the Fleet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">They
carried it while the computers, grim-faced and scowling now, jotted down from
minute to minute the enormous and rapidly-increasing figure representing their
radial velocity. Carried it while Earth's immense armada, manned by creatures
incapable of even the simplest coherent thought or purposeful notion, plunged
sickeningly downward in its madly hopeless fall, with scarcely a measurable
trace of tangential velocity, toward the unimaginable inferno of the sun.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Eventually,
however, the shielded lifeboats approached their objectives and expanded their
screens to enclose them. Officers recovered, air-locks opened, and the
lifeboats, still radiating protection, were taken inside. Explanations were
made, orders were given, and one by one the eleven vengeful superdreadnaughts
shot away to join their flagship in abating the Menace of the Machine.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">No
conceivable structure, however armed or powered, could long withstand the fury
of the combined assault of twelve such superb battle craft, and under that
awful concentration of force the screens of the doomed ship radiated higher and
higher into the ultra-violet, went black, and failed. And, those mighty
defenses down, the end was practically instantaneous.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">No
unprotected metal can endure even momentarily the ardor of such beams, and they
played on, not only until every plate and girder of the vessel and every nut,
bolt, and rivet of its monstrous crew had been blasted out of all semblance to
what it had once been, but until every fragment of metal had not only been
liquefied, but had been completely volatilized.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">At
the instant of cessation of the brain-scrambling activities of the automatons
the Communications Officer had begun an insistent broadcast. Aboard all of the
ships there were many who did not recover—who would be helpless imbeciles
during the short period of life left to them—but soon an intelligent officer
was at every control and each unit of the Terrestrial Contingent was exerting
its maximum thrust at a right angle to its line of fall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
now the burden was shifted from the fighting staff to the no less able
engineers and computers. To the engineers the task of keeping their mighty
engines in such tune as to maintain constantly the peak acceleration of three
Earth gravities; to the computers that of so directing their ever-changing
course as to win every possible centimeter of precious tangential velocity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">CHAPTER IV<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><b><i>The
Sun's Gravity</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Ferdinand
Stone was hollow-eyed and gaunt from his practically sleepless days and nights
of toil, but he was as grimly resolute as ever. Struggling against the terrific
weight of three gravities he made his way to the desk of the Chief Computer and
waited while that worthy, whose leaden hands could scarcely manipulate the
instruments of his profession, finished his seemingly endless calculations.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We
will escape the sun's mighty attraction, Doctor Stone, with approximately half
a gravity to spare," the mathematician reported finally. "Whether we
will be alive or not is another question. There will be heat, which our
refrigerators may or may not be able to handle; there will be radiations which
our armor may or may not be able to stop. You, of course, know a lot more about
those things than I do."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Distance
at closest approach?" snapped Stone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Two
point twenty-nine times ten to the ninth meters from the sun's center,"
the computer shot back instantly. "That is, one million five hundred
ninety thousand kilometers—only two point twenty-seven radii—from the arbitrary
surface. What do you think of our chances, sir?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It
will probably be a near thing—very near," the physicist replied,
thoughtfully. "Much, however, can be done. We can probably tune our
defensive screens to block most of the harmful radiations, and we may be able
to muster other defenses. I will analyze the radiations and see what we can do
about neutralizing them."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonPTNNMKxMgl4Yp7wbzGJKdDVu3-lU7E2E0jY_f5AYYi_0TjHcOQUge7v0JU9WW3IjKNZaQ2sgqNaQq3FB3bOBAmSqqQ__QJ_sJudgEAw6XmPf3O1r3CleMxyKEPLerABEIXoCeSDwsePswXHmSMsbKhwfkRjMdTxYi7pebcjUUXYxQg9zfkZKW-JIug/s673/solar-activity2.en.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="673" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonPTNNMKxMgl4Yp7wbzGJKdDVu3-lU7E2E0jY_f5AYYi_0TjHcOQUge7v0JU9WW3IjKNZaQ2sgqNaQq3FB3bOBAmSqqQ__QJ_sJudgEAw6XmPf3O1r3CleMxyKEPLerABEIXoCeSDwsePswXHmSMsbKhwfkRjMdTxYi7pebcjUUXYxQg9zfkZKW-JIug/w640-h480/solar-activity2.en.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...is it hot in here all of a sudden...<i>fuck.</i></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You
will go to bed," directed Martin, crisply. "There will be lots of
time for that work after you get rested up. The doctors have been reporting
that the men who did not recover from the robots' broadcast are dying under
this acceleration. With those facts staring us in the face, however, I do not
see how we can reduce our power."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We
can't. As it is, many more of us will probably die before we get away from the
sun," and Stone staggered away, practically asleep on his feet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Day
after day the frightful fall continued. The sun grew larger and larger, more
and ever more menacingly intense. One by one at first, and then by scores, the
mindless men of the Fleet died and were consigned to space—a man must be in
full control of all his faculties to survive for long an acceleration of three
gravities.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
generators of the defensive screens had early been tuned to neutralize as much
as possible of Old Sol's most fervently harmful frequencies, and but for their
mighty shields every man of the Fleet would have perished long since. Now even
those ultra-powerful guards were proving inadequate.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Refrigerators
were running at the highest possible overload and the men, pressing as closely
as possible to the dark sides of their vessels, were availing themselves of
such extra protection of lead shields and the like as could be improvised from
whatever material was at hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Yet
the already stifling air became hotter and hotter, eyes began to ache and burn,
skins blistered and cracked under the punishing impact of forces which all the
defenses could not block. But at last came the long-awaited announcement.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Pilots
and watch-officers of all ships, attention!" the Chief Computer spoke into
his microphone through parched and blackened lips. "We are now at the
point of tangency. The gravity of the sun here is twenty-four point five meters
per second squared. Since we are blasting twenty-nine point four we are
beginning to pull away at an acceleration of four point nine. Until further
notice keep your pointers directly away from the sun's center, in the plane of
the Ecliptic."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
sun was now in no sense the orb of day with which we upon Earth's green surface
are familiar. It was a gigantic globe of turbulently seething flame, subtending
an angle of almost thirty-five degrees, blotting out a full fourth of the cone
of normally distinct vision.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Sunspots
were plainly to be seen; combinations of indescribably violent cyclonic storms
and volcanic eruptions in a gaseously liquid medium of searing, eye-tearing
incandescence. And everywhere, threatening at times even to reach the
fiercely-struggling ships of space, were the solar prominences—fiendish
javelins of frenziedly frantic destruction, hurling themselves in wild abandon
out into the empty reaches of the void.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Eyes
behind almost opaque lead-glass goggles, head and body encased in a
multi-layered suit each ply of which was copiously smeared with thick lead
paint, Stone studied the raging monster of the heavens from the closest
viewpoint any human being had ever attained—and lived. Even he, protected as he
was, could peer but briefly; and, master physicist though he was and
astronomer-of-sorts, yet he was profoundly awed at the spectacle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Twice
that terrifying mass was circled. Then, air-temperature again bearable and
lethal radiations stopped, the grueling acceleration was reduced to a heavenly
one-and-one-half gravities and the vast fleet remade its formation. The
automatons and the sun between them had taken heavy toll; but the gaps were
filled, men were transferred to equalize the losses of personnel, and the
course was laid for distant Earth. And in the Admiral's private quarters two
men sat together and stared at each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well,
that's that—so far, so good," the physicist broke the long silence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"But
is their power really broken?" asked Martin, anxiously.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I
don't know," Stone grunted, dourly. "But the pick of them—the
brainiest of the lot—were undoubtedly here. We beat them...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Martin
interrupted.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fk7kcBxKPAO-iewKu6tYWtLQsili0_iTU_1P9WFVj82XAZojLu31RcU-3JN-fYNkkRXHMeRCvsbKntoUjJPjn3Q1sid2Dpa4N9WxllGjKTCKINFipSg_Ik3kXk0u1niYsz7BOEFzIsN7BiK2amhs2LQgWh-TSnFuWpm3KKpH6Sa0gbfP-bICUmQ-iqk/s242/EESmith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="170" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fk7kcBxKPAO-iewKu6tYWtLQsili0_iTU_1P9WFVj82XAZojLu31RcU-3JN-fYNkkRXHMeRCvsbKntoUjJPjn3Q1sid2Dpa4N9WxllGjKTCKINFipSg_Ik3kXk0u1niYsz7BOEFzIsN7BiK2amhs2LQgWh-TSnFuWpm3KKpH6Sa0gbfP-bICUmQ-iqk/w281-h400/EESmith.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E.E. 'Doc' Smith.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You beat
them, you mean," he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"With
a lot of absolutely indispensable help from you and your force. But have it
your own way—what do words matter? I beat them, then; and in the same
sense I can beat the rest of them if we play our cards exactly right."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"In
what way?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"In
keeping me entirely out of the picture. Believe me, Martin, it is of the
essence that all of your officers who know what happened be sworn to silence
and that not a word about me leaks out to anybody. Put out any story you please
except the truth—mention the name of anybody or anything between here and
Andromeda except me. Promise me now that you will not let my name get out until
I give you permission or until after I am dead."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"But
I'll have to, in my reports."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You
report only to the Supreme Council, and a good half of those reports are
sealed. Seal this one."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"But
I think...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What
with?" gruffly. "If my name becomes known my usefulness—and my
life—are done. Remember, Martin, I know robots. There are some
capable ones left, and if they get wind of me in any way they'll get me before
I can get them. As things are, and with your help, I can and I will get them
all. That's a promise. Have I yours?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"In
that case, of course you have."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And
Admiral Alan Martin and Doctor Ferdinand Stone were men who kept their
promises.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><b><i>END</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Books-Louis-Shalako/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ALouis+Shalako" target="_blank">books and stories available from Amazon.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See
his </span><a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">works on ArtPal.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Check
out </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1387023" target="_blank">A Stranger In Paris,</a></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> the latest
in The Inspector Gilles Maintenon Series.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Here’s
a f</span><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">ree audiobook </a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">for you.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">More
on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._E._Smith" target="_blank">E.E. ‘Doc’ Smith. </a></span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">(Wiki)</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank
you for reading and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-57597011689140189892023-12-30T15:10:00.002-05:002023-12-30T16:03:00.608-05:00The Fearsome Touch of Death. Robert E. Howard.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div><p><br /></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKUwFo6ndJMi9o8D_71kb8f9pCunLN58yKcLASaDfBP5Wx6PVU9Gu9th5Rtg4pW5prBL-CegFWjD4Y4_bOfMLLUEP0WuaW0nb7O0mfGm53yKpy1vk6RvnYwE5Mmk_p5TQMbJ5A3hJFQBSGKhTZL9lFxVMWl9iinAYA0cUyQ9xb58gD6oTS45Djhbep9w/s612/istockphoto-462481601-612x612.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="408" height="718" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKUwFo6ndJMi9o8D_71kb8f9pCunLN58yKcLASaDfBP5Wx6PVU9Gu9th5Rtg4pW5prBL-CegFWjD4Y4_bOfMLLUEP0WuaW0nb7O0mfGm53yKpy1vk6RvnYwE5Mmk_p5TQMbJ5A3hJFQBSGKhTZL9lFxVMWl9iinAYA0cUyQ9xb58gD6oTS45Djhbep9w/w426-h718/istockphoto-462481601-612x612.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Stein.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Robert E. Howard</p><p></p><p><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><i>A
Tale of Stark, Unreasoning Terror</i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><br /> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Weird
Tales February 1930.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">As long as midnight cloaks the earth<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">With shadows grim and stark,<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">God save us from the Judas kiss<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Of a dead man in the dark.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Old
Adam Farrel lay dead in the house wherein he had lived alone for the last
twenty years. A silent, churlish recluse, in his life he had known no friends,
and only two men had watched his passing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Dr.
Stein rose and glanced out the window into the gathering dusk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"You
think you can spend the night here, then?" he asked his companion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">This
man, Falred by name, assented.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Yes,
certainly. I guess it's up to me."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Rather
a useless and primitive custom, sitting up with the dead," commented the
doctor, preparing to depart, "but I suppose in common decency we will have
to bow to precedence. Maybe I can find some one who'll come over here and help
you with your vigil."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Falred
shrugged his shoulders. "I doubt it. Farrel wasn't liked—wasn't known by
many people. I scarcely knew him myself, but I don't mind sitting up with the
corpse."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Dr.
Stein was removing his rubber gloves, and Falred watched the process with an
interest that almost amounted to fascination. A slight, involuntary shudder
shook him at the memory of touching these gloves—slick, cold, clammy things,
like the touch of death.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">"You
may get lonely tonight, if I don't find anyone," the doctor remarked as he
opened the door. "Not superstitious, are you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Falred
laughed. "Scarcely. To tell the truth, from what I hear of Farrel's
disposition, I'd rather be watching his corpse than have been his guest in
life."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
door closed and Falred took up his vigil. He seated himself in the only chair
the room boasted, glanced casually at the formless, sheeted bulk on the bed
opposite him, and began to read by the light of the dim lamp which stood on the
rough table.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Outside
the darkness gathered swiftly, and finally Falred laid down his magazine to
rest his eyes. He looked again at the shape which had, in life, been the form
of Adam Farrel, wondering what quirk in the human nature made the sight of a
corpse not only so unpleasant, but such an object of fear to many. Unthinking
ignorance, seeing in dead things a reminder of death to come, he decided
lazily, and began idly contemplating as to what life had held for this grim and
crabbed old man, who had neither relatives nor friends, and who had seldom left
the house wherein he had died. The usual tales of miser-hoarded wealth had
accumulated, but Falred felt so little interest in the whole matter that it was
not even necessary for him to overcome any temptation to pry about the house
for possible hidden treasure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
returned to his reading with a shrug. The task was more boresome than he had
thought for. After a while he was aware that every time he looked up from his
magazine and his eyes fell upon the bed with its grim occupant, he started
involuntarily as if he had, for an instant, forgotten the presence of the dead
man and was unpleasantly reminded of the fact. The start was slight and instinctive,
but he felt almost angered at himself. He realized, for the first time, the
utter and deadening silence which enwrapped the house—a silence apparently
shared by the night, for no sound came through the window. Adam Farrel had
lived as far apart from his neighbors as possible, and there was no other house
within hearing distance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Falred
shook himself as if to rid his mind of unsavory speculations, and went back to
his reading. A sudden vagrant gust of wind whipped through the window, in which
the light in the lamp flickered and went out suddenly. Falred, cursing softly,
groped in the darkness for matches, burning his fingers on the hot lamp
chimney. He struck a match, re-lighted the lamp, and glancing over at the bed,
got a horrible mental jolt. Adam Farrel's face stared blindly at him, the dead
eyes wide and blank, framed in the gnarled gray features. Even as Falred
instinctively shuddered, his reason explained the apparent phenomenon: the
sheet that covered the corpse had been carelessly thrown across the face and
the sudden puff of wind had disarranged and flung it aside.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Yet
there was something grisly about the thing, something fearsomely suggestive—as
if, in the cloaking dark, a dead hand had flung aside the sheet, just as if the
corpse were about to rise....<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Falred,
an imaginative man, shrugged his shoulders at these ghastly thoughts and
crossed the room to replace the sheet. The dead eyes seemed to stare at him
malevolently, with an evilness that transcended the dead man's churlishness in
life. The workings of a vivid imagination, Falred knew, and he re-covered the
gray face, shrinking as his hand chanced to touch the cold flesh—slick and
clammy, the touch of death. He shuddered with the natural revulsion of the
living for the dead, and went back to his chair and magazine.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPJWltOPVsUCY0CG6_MbfuvJcRJCZVnb_q80lCem4ozH2kgabbj_71oUQRvKEQ5qaKPQ87_Ue8L9KkmXxSKM-rT6_ko0vNGmUqn3GhDYrRtOA_wkcAIpOzkt6-2YwVB9qZYY0Ko_hXx0kXhN2JCZ7A22MXNcHfYtL0CHf5bKOPTO-CzcYxD979fsTjuw/s273/220px-Victor_Horsley.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="220" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPJWltOPVsUCY0CG6_MbfuvJcRJCZVnb_q80lCem4ozH2kgabbj_71oUQRvKEQ5qaKPQ87_Ue8L9KkmXxSKM-rT6_ko0vNGmUqn3GhDYrRtOA_wkcAIpOzkt6-2YwVB9qZYY0Ko_hXx0kXhN2JCZ7A22MXNcHfYtL0CHf5bKOPTO-CzcYxD979fsTjuw/w516-h640/220px-Victor_Horsley.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't go to sleep...</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">At
last, growing sleepy, he lay down upon a couch which, by some strange whim of
the original owner, formed part of the room's scant furnishings, and composed
himself for slumber. He decided to leave the light burning, telling himself
that it was in accordance with the usual custom of leaving lights burning for
the dead; for he was not willing to admit to himself that already he was
conscious of a dislike for lying in the darkness with the corpse. He dozed,
awoke with a start and looked at the sheeted form on the bed. Silence reigned
over the house, and outside it was very dark.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
hour was approaching midnight, with its accompanying eery domination over the
human mind. Falred glanced again at the bed where the body lay and found the
sight of the sheeted object most repellent. A fantastic idea had birth in his
mind and grew, that beneath the sheet, the mere lifeless body had become a
strange, monstrous thing, a hideous, conscious being, that watched him with
eyes which burned through the fabric of the cloth. This thought—a mere fantasy,
of course—he explained to himself by the legends of vampires, undead, ghosts
and such like—the fearsome attributes with which the living have cloaked the
dead for countless ages, since primitive man first recognized in death
something horrid and apart from life. Man feared death, thought Falred, and
some of his fear of death took hold on the dead so that they, too, were feared.
And the sight of the dead engendered grisly thoughts, gave rise to dim fears of
hereditary memory, lurking back in the dark corners of the brain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">At
any rate, that silent, hidden thing was getting on his nerves. He thought of
uncovering the face, on the principle that familiarity breeds contempt. The
sight of the features, calm and still in death, would banish, he thought, all
such wild conjectures as were haunting him in spite of himself. But the thought
of those dead eyes staring in the lamplight was intolerable; so at last he blew
out the light and lay down. This fear had been stealing upon him so insidiously
and gradually that he had not been aware of its growth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">With
the extinguishing of the light, however, and the blotting out of the sight of
the corpse, things assumed their true character and proportions, and Falred
fell asleep almost instantly, on his lips a faint smile for his previous folly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">***</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
awakened suddenly. How long he had been asleep he did not know. He sat up, his
pulse pounding frantically, the cold sweat beading his forehead. He knew
instantly where he was, remembered the other occupant of the room. But what had
awakened him? A dream—yes, now he remembered—a hideous dream in which the dead
man had risen from the bed and stalked stiffly across the room with eyes of
fire and a horrid leer frozen on his gray lips. Falred had seemed to lie
motionless, helpless; then as the corpse reached a gnarled and horrible hand,
he had awakened.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
strove to pierce the gloom, but the room was all blackness and all without was
so dark that no gleam of light came through the window. He reached a shaking
hand toward the lamp, then recoiled as if from a hidden serpent. Sitting here
in the dark with a fiendish corpse was bad enough, but he dared not light the
lamp, for fear that his reason would be snuffed out like a candle at what he
might see. Horror, stark and unreasoning, had full possession of his soul; he
no longer questioned the instinctive fears that rose in him. All those legends
he had heard came back to him and brought a belief in them. Death was a hideous
thing, a brain-shattering horror, imbuing lifeless men with a horrid
malevolence. Adam Farrel in his life had been simply a churlish but harmless
man; now he was a terror, a monster, a fiend lurking in the shadows of fear,
ready to leap on mankind with talons dipped deep in death and insanity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Falred
sat there, his blood freezing, and fought out his silent battle. Faint
glimmerings of reason had begun to touch his fright when a soft, stealthy sound
again froze him. He did not recognize it as the whisper of the night wind
across the window-sill. His frenzied fancy knew it only as the tread of death
and horror. He sprang from the couch, then stood undecided. Escape was in his
mind but he was too dazed to even try to formulate a plan of escape. Even his
sense of direction was gone. Fear had so stultified his mind that he was not
able to think consciously. The blackness spread in long waves about him and its
darkness and void entered into his brain. His motions, such as they were, were
instinctive. He seemed shackled with mighty chains and his limbs responded
sluggishly, like an imbecile's.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">A
terrible horror grew up in him and reared its grisly shape, that the dead man
was behind him, was stealing upon him from the rear. He no longer thought of
lighting the lamp; he no longer thought of anything. Fear filled his whole
being; there was room for nothing else.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">He
backed slowly away in the darkness, hands behind him, instinctively feeling the
way. With a terrific effort he partly shook the clinging mists of horror from
him, and, the cold sweat clammy upon his body, strove to orient himself. He
could see nothing, but the bed was across the room, in front of him. He was
backing away from it. There was where the dead man was lying, according to all
rules of nature; if the thing were, as he felt, behind him, then the old tales
were true: death did implant in lifeless bodies an unearthly animation, and
dead men did roam the shadows to work their ghastly and evil will upon the sons
of men. Then—great God!—what was man but a wailing infant, lost in the night
and beset by frightful things from the black abysses and the terrible unknown
voids of space and time? These conclusions he did not reach by any reasoning
process; they leaped full-grown into his terror-dazed brain. He worked his way
slowly backward, groping, clinging to the thought that the dead
man must be in front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Then
his back-flung hands encountered something—something slick, cold and
clammy—like the touch of death. A scream shook the echoes, followed by the
crash of a falling body.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">***</span></p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpd-WQEwIueHP395JJHGrZAJpHNf6yiku2-U1UX-RHbEP3oqiaYgklX6DEMc943yBZfnqPPlMpN0mM_bTUw8yA3iHkZZd6Dq5R6idN2WRcsi_1smNlX-dmgQ09DcfgZ1GSG-xp6xwNDexd67LZBnZHY9afYyLsHt54Oc1rpPFq7UqPfJZF2QJsYjB3h0/s900/Robert_E_Howard_suit.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="696" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpd-WQEwIueHP395JJHGrZAJpHNf6yiku2-U1UX-RHbEP3oqiaYgklX6DEMc943yBZfnqPPlMpN0mM_bTUw8yA3iHkZZd6Dq5R6idN2WRcsi_1smNlX-dmgQ09DcfgZ1GSG-xp6xwNDexd67LZBnZHY9afYyLsHt54Oc1rpPFq7UqPfJZF2QJsYjB3h0/w309-h400/Robert_E_Howard_suit.jpg" width="309" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert E. Howard.</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">The
next morning they who came to the house of death found two corpses in the room.
Adam Farrel's sheeted body lay motionless upon the bed, and across the room lay
the body of Falred, beneath the shelf where Dr. Stein had absent-mindedly left his
gloves—rubber gloves, slick and clammy to the touch of a hand groping in the
dark—a hand of one fleeing his own fear—rubber gloves, slick and clammy and
cold, like the touch of death.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Louis%20Shalako%22;jsessionid=4D5D422CFDA3158A297425C8903E0481.prodny_store02-atgap18?Ntk=P_key_Contributor_List&Ns=P_Sales_Rank&Ntx=mode+matchall" target="_blank">books and stories available from Barnes & Noble.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Get
your free copy of </span><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43239" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank"><i>The Handbag’s Tale,</i>
</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">an Inspector Gilles Maintenon Mystery. The short story that inspired the
series.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Louis
has </span><a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">art on Fine Art America.</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Here’s
a free audiobook from Google Play, </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank">OneMillion Words of Crap.</a></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_E._Howard" target="_blank">More on Robert E. Howard. </a><i>(Wiki)</i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-11578984489455230852023-12-29T17:21:00.000-05:002023-12-29T17:21:21.607-05:00Six Frightened Men. Robert Silverberg.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxyeo9iWFAl3tyXQUTRr_M3G8_d_N2NFoI4ova9XmWRH_ep0j_7TqZsVNWasuf8pWrOnl5HJqYC47QFJ1wmvD5ASnSgDD7a28QiIb0kL8s9STKDZFAN99nvE3Od7OX_bw6WrY98aOOWaxDpT9PKXwDFjJ812goVb2kW9b6LtqapHqJbNn-BmxOw1ArBU/s1920/6629240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxyeo9iWFAl3tyXQUTRr_M3G8_d_N2NFoI4ova9XmWRH_ep0j_7TqZsVNWasuf8pWrOnl5HJqYC47QFJ1wmvD5ASnSgDD7a28QiIb0kL8s9STKDZFAN99nvE3Od7OX_bw6WrY98aOOWaxDpT9PKXwDFjJ812goVb2kW9b6LtqapHqJbNn-BmxOw1ArBU/w640-h400/6629240.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A free wallpaper off of the internet.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Robert Silverberg</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">SIX FRIGHTENED MEN<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><b><i>It was an
unexplored planet and anything could happen—yet none of us expected to face a creature
impossible to fight, let alone kill....</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 2.85pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Imagination
Stories of Science and Fantasy June 1957<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">You put your life
on the line when you join the Exploratory Wing of the Space Corps. They tell
you that when you sign up. The way they told it to me, it went like this:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You'll be
out there on alien worlds where no human being has ever set foot—worlds which
may or may not have been inhabited by hostile alien creatures. You take your
life in your hands every time you make a planetfall out there. Still
interested?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"That's old
stuff," I said. "You don't think I'd join up if it was an old ladies'
tea party, do you?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Which was how I
happened to be crouching behind a fantastically-sculptured spiralling rock out
on the yellow wind-blasted desert of Pollux V, huddling there with the fierce
sweep of sand against my faceplate, looking at the monster that barred my path.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The thing was at
least sixty feet tall and all eyes and mouth. The mouth yawned, showing yellow
daggers a foot long. As for the eyes—well, they burned with the cold luminosity
of an intelligent and inimical being.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I didn't know what
the thing was. One minute I'd been examining an interesting rock formation, a
second later I was hiding behind it, watching the ravening thing that had
appeared out of nowhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Other members of
the expedition were sprawled here and there on the desert too. I could see Max
Feld, our paleontologist, curled in a tight plump little ball under an
outcropping of weathered limestone, and there was Roy Laurence, the biochemist,
flat on his stomach peering at the thing incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Back behind me
were three others—Don Forster, Leo Mickens, Clyde Hamner. That made six. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The
two remaining members of the team, Medic Howard Graves and Anthropologist Lyman
Donaldson, were back at the ship. We always left a shift of two back there in
case of trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And trouble had sure
struck now!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I saw Laurence
swivel in the sand and stare goggle-eyed at me. His lips moved, and over my
helmet radio came: "What the hell is it, Phil? Where'd it come from?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I'm a
morphologist; I'm supposed to know things like that. But I could only shrug and
say, "A thing like that could only come from the pits of Hell. I've never
seen anything like it before."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I hadn't. We had
been fine-combing the broad windswept plain in front of the ship, looking for
archaeological remains. The planet was uninhabited, or so we thought after
running a quick check—but Max Feld had discovered relics of a dead race, an
exciting find, and we had all fanned out to help him in his search for more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">We had been
heading toward a flat mountain wall that rose abruptly from the desert about a
mile from the ship when—from nowhere—the creature appeared, towering above the
desert like a dinosaur dropped from the skies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But no dinosaur
ever looked like this one. Sixty feet high, its skin a loathsome gray-green
quivering jelly with thick hairy cilia projecting, its vat-like mouth gaping
toothily, its cold, hard eyes flicking back and forth, searching for us as we
flattened ourselves out of sight, it was an utterly ghastly being. Evolution
had gone wild on this planet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And we were cut off
from the ship, hemmed between the mountain wall and the creature.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What are we
going to do?" Clyde Hamner whispered. "He's going to smell us out
pretty soon."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">As he spoke, the
monster began to move—flowing, it seemed, like some vast protozoan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I'm going to
blast it," I said, as it oozed closer to us. Cautiously, I lifted my
Webley from its shoulder-holster, turned the beam to Full, began to
squeeze the firing-stud.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">A bright white-hot
beam of force leaped from the nozzle and speared the creature's eye. It howled,
seemed to leap in the air, thrashed around—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And changed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifhAWEVKgNRmu9zEWyUBZa4UMnbbJCwMTeN-qYxTLOB2HMC9RcGVuXIB_Ac3Qzt_yCHujCv5bBuUvK0Sjx9Q7PHaVpDbKJQ1JjGypYLFqwqYQ7OLB_FO7WxdfFuPlSqlim5s8hZmLoVN55R972svG43ZPrlpvAWzTplQzxZl4usptAyQsb8zOLOhJ4Ho/s225/images%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifhAWEVKgNRmu9zEWyUBZa4UMnbbJCwMTeN-qYxTLOB2HMC9RcGVuXIB_Ac3Qzt_yCHujCv5bBuUvK0Sjx9Q7PHaVpDbKJQ1JjGypYLFqwqYQ7OLB_FO7WxdfFuPlSqlim5s8hZmLoVN55R972svG43ZPrlpvAWzTplQzxZl4usptAyQsb8zOLOhJ4Ho/w400-h400/images%20(1).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A <i>blaster,</i> ladies and gentlemen. Usually good for amorphous blobs.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">It became a
boiling mass of amorphous protoplasm, writhing and billowing on the sand. I
fired again into the mass—again and again, and the alien creature continued to
shift its form. I was cold with horror, but I kept up the firing. My bolts
seemed to be absorbed into the fluid mass without effect, but at least I had
halted the oozing advance.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It reached one
final hideous stage: a giant mouth, opening before us like the gate of hell. A
mouth, nothing more. It yawned in front of us—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then advanced.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I felt noxious
vapors shoot out, bathing my thermosuit, and I saw a gargling larynx feet
across. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I fired, again and again, into the monster's throat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">My companions were
firing too. We seemed to have halted the thing's advance. It paused some twenty
feet from us, a wall of mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then it
disappeared.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It blinked out of
sight the way it had come—instantaneously. For a moment I didn't realize what
had happened, and fired three useless charges into the space where the monster
had been.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It's
gone," Hamner exclaimed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">My hands were
trembling—me, who had stood up to Venusian mudworms without a whimper, who had
fought the giant fleas of Rigel IX. I was shaking all over. Sweat was running
down my entire body, and the wiper of my faceplate was going crazy trying to
blot my forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then I heard dull
groans coming from up ahead. One final grunt, then silence. They had been
coming from Max Feld.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Looking around
cautiously, I rose to my feet. There was no sign of the creature. I ran to
where Max lay.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The plump
paleontologist was sprawled flat in the sand, face down. I bent, yanked him
over, peered in his facemask. His eyes were open, staring—and lifeless.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It wasn't till we
got back to the ship that we could open his spacesuit and confirm what I
thought I saw on his face.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Doc Graves
pronounced it finally: "He's dead. Heart attack. What the devil did
you see out there, anyway?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Quickly I
described it. When I was finished the medic shivered. "Lord! No wonder Max
had an attack. What a nightmare!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Donaldson, the
anthropologist, appeared from somewhere in the back of the ship. Seeing Max's
body, he said, "What happened?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We were
attacked on the desert. Max was the only casualty. The thing didn't touch us—it
just </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">tood there and changed shape. Max must have died of fright."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Donaldson scowled.
He was a wry, taciturn individual with a coldness about him that I didn't like.
I could pretty much guess what he would say. No expression of grief, or
anything like that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It's going
to look bad for you, Doc, when it's discovered we had a man with a weak heart
in the crew."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The medic
stiffened. "I checked Max's heart before we left. It was as good as
anyone's. But the shock of seeing that thing—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Yeah,"
Don Forster said angrily. "You'd have been shivering in your boots too if
that thing had popped out of nowhere right over your left
shoulder."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Keep your
remarks to yourself, Forster. I signed on for the Exploratory Team with the
same understanding any of you did—that we were going into alien, uncharted
worlds and could expect to meet up with anything. Anything at all. Fright's a
mere emotional reaction. Adults—as you supposedly are—should be able to control
it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I felt like
hitting him, but I restrained myself. That ordeal out on the desert had left me
drained, nerves raw and shaken. I shrugged and looked away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well?"
Hamner said. "What do we do? Go home?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It was said half
as a joke, but I saw from the look on young Leo Mickens' face that he was
perfectly willing to take the suggestion seriously and get off Pollux V as fast
as he could.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">To forestall any
trouble, I said, "It's a tempting idea. But I don't think it would look
good on our records."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You're
right," Hamner agreed. "We stay. We stay until we know what that
thing is, where it came from, and how we can lick it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">We stayed. We
spent the rest of that day aboard ship, having called off the day's
explorations in memory of Max. The bright orb of Pollux set about 2000 ship
time, and the sky was filled with a glorious sight: a horde of moons whirling
above. The moons of Pollux V were incredible.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">There
were one hundred of them, ranging in size from a hunk of rock the
size of Mars' Deimos to one massive high-albedo satellite almost a thousand
miles in diameter. They marched across the sky in stately order, filling the
Polluxian night with brightness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Only we didn't
feel much sense of wonder. We buried Max in a crude grave, laid him to rest
under the light of a hundred moons, and then withdrew to the ship to consider
our problem.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Where'd it come
from?" Doc Graves asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Nowhere,"
I said. "Just nowhere. One second it wasn't there, next second it was. It
vanished the same way."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"How could
that be?" Donaldson asked. "Matter doesn't work that way; it's flatly
impossible."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Holding myself in
check, I said, "Maybe so, Donaldson. But the thing was there."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"How do you
know?" the anthropologist persisted, sneering a little. "You sure it
wasn't a mass illusion of some kind?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Damn
you," Forster shouted, "You weren't there. We were—and we saw
it. Max saw it. Ask Max if it was there!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Evenly, Donaldson
said, "On the basis of your description, I'm convinced it must have been
an illusion. I'm willing to go out there and have a look first thing in the
morning—either alone or with any of you, if you can work up the courage. Fair
enough?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Fair
enough," I said. "I'll go with you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The next morning
we left the ship, clad in thermosuits, armed to the teeth—at least I was. I
carried a subforce gun and a neural disruptor; Donaldson scornfully packed only
the prescribed blaster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">We crossed the
flat plain together, without speaking. I led the way, looking back nervously
every few paces, but there was nothing behind me but Donaldson. We made a
complete reconnaissance of the area, picked up a few interesting outlying fossils—Donaldson
thought they might be relics of the dead race of Pollux V—and reached the bare
face of the mountain without any difficulties.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Well?"
Donaldson asked sneeringly. "Where's your monster this time? He afraid of
me?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"So it didn't
show up," I snapped. "That doesn't prove anything. For all we know it
might jump us on the way back to the ship."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"So it might.
But I doubt it. For one thing, I've been checking footprints in the sand. I've
counted six tracks—one each for you, Feld, Hamner, Laurence, Forster, and
Mickens. Unfortunately, that doesn't leave any for your monster. There's no
sign of him anywhere."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I was a little
startled by that. I glanced around. "You're right," I admitted,
frowning. Licking dry lips, I said, "There ought to be some trace—unless
the wind's covered it."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"The wind
hasn't fully covered the traces of you six yet," Donaldson pointed out
with obstinate logic. "Why should it obliterate only those of your
nemesis?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I scowled, but
said nothing. Donaldson was right again—but I still found it hard to convince
myself that what we had seen was only an illusion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">On the way back to
the ship, I formulated all sorts of theories to explain the creature. It was a
monster out of subspace, generated by etheric force; it was a
radiation-creature without tangible physical body; it was—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I had half a dozen
conjectures, each as unlikely as the next. But we returned to the ship safely,
without any trouble whatever. I was sure of one thing: the creature was real,
no matter what hell-void had spawned it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">When we returned,
I saw the tense faces of the men in the ship ease.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"All
right," Donaldson said. "We've both been out there and come back. I
say we ought to investigate this place fully. There's been a high-level
civilization here at one time, and—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Suppose it's
this monster that killed off that civilization?" Forster suggested.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Then it's
our duty to investigate it," I had to say. "Even at the cost of our
lives." Here I agreed with Donaldson; monster or no, it was our job to
fathom the secrets of this dead world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">We agreed to
explore in twos, rather than risk the customary complement of six all at once. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Two men would go out; five remain within, three of them space-suited and ready
to leave the ship to answer any emergency call.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Mickens and
Forster drew the first assignment. They suited up and left. Tensely, we
proceeded about our shipside duties, cataloguing information from our previous
stops, performing routine tasks, busying ourselves desperately in unimportant
work to take our minds off the men who were out on that desert together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">An hour later,
Forster returned. Alone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">His face was pale,
his eyes bulging, and almost before he stepped from the airlock we knew what
must have happened.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Where's
Mickens?" I asked, breaking the terrible hush in the cabin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Dead,"
he said hollowly. "We—we got to the mountain, and—God, it was awful!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He sank down in an
acceleration cradle and started to sob. Doc Graves fumbled at his belt, drew
out a neurotab, forced it between the boy's quivering lips. He calmed; color
returned to his face.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Tell us
about it," Hamner urged gently.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"We reached
the back end of the plain, and Leo suggested we try the mountain. He thought he
saw a sort of cave somewhere back in there, and wanted to have a look. We had
to go over that sharp rock shelf to get in there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"So we
started to scale the cliff. We were about a hundred feet up, and going along a
path maybe four feet wide, when—when—" He shuddered, then forced himself
to go on. "The monster appeared. It popped out of nowhere right in front of
Leo. He was taken by surprise and toppled over the edge. I managed to hang
on."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">"Were you
attacked?" I asked.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"No. It
vanished, right after Leo fell off. I went down to look at him. His facemask
had broken. I left him there."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I glanced around
at the tight-jawed, hard faces of my crewmates. No one said a word—but we all
knew the job that faced us now. We couldn't leave Pollux V until we'd
discovered the nature of the beast that menaced us—even if it cost us our
lives. We couldn't go back to Earth and send some other guys in to do the job.
That wasn't the way the Exploratory Wing operated. We had a tradition to
uphold.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">We drew lots, and
Hamner and Donaldson went out there to recover Mickens' body. They encountered
no hazards, and brought young Mickens' shattered body back. We buried it next
to Max's. The monster had taken a toll of two already, without actually
touching either.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It was almost like
some evil plan unfolding to wipe us out one by one. I didn't like it—but I
didn't have anything too concrete to base it on, not till the fifth day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I was teamed with
Donaldson again, and I felt strangely confident about our safety. So far the
monster had yet to materialize any time Donaldson was out on the plain. That
fact had been in the back of my mind for quite a while. It was the only clue I
had.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">We prowled over
the plain, which by now had been pretty well finetoothed, and then I suggested
we try the cave where Mickens had met his fate.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I don't like
the idea," Donaldson said, eyeing the narrow shelf of rock we would have
to walk across. "You remember what happened to Mickens, and—"<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhwuqPitY4UwmaYHu81YWzilUZZZKA-uar-FlERhjEhjqbQFzqzJMp6fUtLKmxGZJHJXvtvp1kk820J7O8aIKGplCFtZsF7Oe7IeD-HtrOF4gHHg0kJRyAgS993XZj2EXiU74paIeO-GbR0YyH7u7-rvVcjk5cGZ-cACYBXl15GoddvW0Ixbi3OOcm46g/s360/240_F_573988642_aCLFhK1Gnz9xAZeQATBmsmpCZ3VIfsHL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="360" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhwuqPitY4UwmaYHu81YWzilUZZZKA-uar-FlERhjEhjqbQFzqzJMp6fUtLKmxGZJHJXvtvp1kk820J7O8aIKGplCFtZsF7Oe7IeD-HtrOF4gHHg0kJRyAgS993XZj2EXiU74paIeO-GbR0YyH7u7-rvVcjk5cGZ-cACYBXl15GoddvW0Ixbi3OOcm46g/w640-h426/240_F_573988642_aCLFhK1Gnz9xAZeQATBmsmpCZ3VIfsHL.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't mind me, I'm just a big fucking bug...</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">I laughed harshly.
"Don't tell me you're beginning to believe in this monster of ours?"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Of course
not. Mickens simply had an attack of vertigo and toppled off; Forster's active
imagination supplied the monster. But that shelf looks treacherous. I'd just as
soon not go up there."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"You're not
talking like an Exploratory Wing man, Donaldson. But it's okay with me if you
want to wait down here. That cave might be a goldmine of artifacts. We ought at
least to have a look."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">His hard face
dropped within his mask. "No—I couldn't let you go alone. You win,"
he said. "Let's try the cave."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">We began the
climb—and it was, I saw, a deadly road. It narrowed dizzyingly—and while the
drop was only a hundred feet, which a man could survive if he landed right,
spacesuits weren't made to take falls of that sort. And without a suit, a man
was instantly dead on this methane-ammonia atmosphere world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">We were about ten
feet out on the ledge, I in the lead and Donaldson behind me, when I heard him
gasp.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Great God!
There it is!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I felt him lurch
against me in sudden terror, nearly heaving me into the abyss, but somehow I
steadied myself, dropped to my knees, hung on. I turned.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He had avoided a
fall too. But I saw no monster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Where is
it?" I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"It came out
of the air right next to me—just popped out of the void and vanished again. I
saw it, though." His voice was hoarse. "I apologize for everything
I've said. The thing is real. If it weren't for your sure footing we'd both
have gone the way Mickens did."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He seemed almost
hysterical. There was no sign of the monster, but I wasn't going to take any
chances out on this ribbon of rock with a hysterical man.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Let's go
back," I said. "We'll try to get to the cave some other time."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"All
right," Donaldson said, shaken. We turned and inched our way back along
the shelf to safety, and half-ran to the sanctuary of the ship.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But once we were
inside and I was thinking clearly again, I began to sprout some suspicions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I reasoned it out
very carefully. Every time Donaldson had gone out previously, the monster had
failed to show. There wasn't another man aboard ship who hadn't had some
encounter with the thing. And some of them were remarking about Donaldson's
apparent luck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">So this time we're
out on the shelf, and the monster does show up—but Donaldson's the
only one who sees him, after staunchly denying its existence all along. It
seemed to me that it might only have been pretense, that he had faked seeing
the monster for some reason of his own.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I didn't know what
that could be. But I had some ideas. Donaldson, after all, had been a member of
the first party to explore Pollux V, the day before the exploration that killed
Max. I had remained on the ship while that group had been out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Suppose, I
thought, Donaldson had found something on that first trip, something that he
hadn't bothered to tell the rest of us about. Something he might want badly
enough to kill all of us for.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It was pretty
far-fetched, but it was worth a try. I decided to explore Donaldson's cabin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Ordinarily we
respected privacy to an extreme degree aboard the ship. I had never been in
Donaldson's cabin before—he never invited anyone in, and naturally I never went
uninvited. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But this was a special case, I felt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The door was
locked, but it's not hard to coerce a magneplate into opening if you know how
they work. Donaldson was in the ship's lab and I hoped he'd stay out of my way
till I had a good look around.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The room was just
like any of ours, filled with the usual things—a shelf of reference books, a
file of musictapes, some minifilms, other things to help to pass away the long
hours between planets. It seemed neat, precise, uncluttered, just as Donaldson
himself was crisp and reserved.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I moved around the
room very carefully, looking for anything out of the ordinary. And then I found
it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It was a black
box, nothing more, about four inches square. It was sitting on one of his
shelves. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Just a bare black box, a little cube of
metal—but what metal!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Beyond the
blackness was a strange unearthly shimmer, an eye-teasing pattern of shifting
molecules within the metal itself. The box had a sleek, alien appearance. I
knew it hadn't been in the cabin when we left Earth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">With a sudden rush
of excitement I realized my mad guess had been right. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Donaldson had found something and kept news of it back from the rest
of us. And perhaps it was linked to the deaths of Max Feld and Leo Mickens.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Cautiously I
reached out to examine the box. I lifted it. It was oddly heavy, and strange to
the touch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But no sooner did
I have it in my hands when the door opened behind me. Donaldson had come back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What are you
doing with that?" he shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"I—"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He crossed the
cabin at top speed and seized the box from my hands. And suddenly the monster
appeared.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It materialized
right in the cabin, between Donaldson and me, its vast bulk pressing against
the walls. I felt its noisome breath on me, sensed its evil reek.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Donaldson!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But Donaldson was
no longer there. I was alone in the cabin with the creature.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I backed away into
the far corner, my mouth working in terror. I tried to call for help, but
couldn't get a word out. And the beast squirmed and changed like a vast amoeba,
writhing and twisting from one grey oily shape to another.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I sank to the
floor, numb with horror—and then realized that the monster wasn't approaching.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It was just
staying there, making faces at me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Making faces. Like
a bogeyman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It was trying to
scare me to death. That was how Max Feld had died, that was how Leo Mickens had
died.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But I wasn't going
to die that way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I rose and
confronted the thing. It just remained in the middle of the cabin, blotting
everything out behind it, stretching from wall to wall and floor to ceiling,
changing from one hell-shape to another and hoping I'd curl up and die.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I stepped forward.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Cautiously I
touched the monster's writhing surface. It was like touching a cloud. I sank
right in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The monster
changed, took the dragon form again—much smaller, of course, to fit the cabin. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Teeth gnashed the air before my nose—but didn't bite into my throat as they
promised to do. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Nervelessly I stood my ground.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then I waded into
the heart of the monster, right into its middle with the grey oiliness
billowing out all around me. There seemed to be nothing material, nothing to
grapple hold of. It was like fighting a dream.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But then I hit
something solid. My groping hands closed around warm flesh. I started to
squeeze.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I had a throat. A
living core of flesh within the monster? It might be. I constricted my fingers,
dug them in, heard strangled gasps coming from further in. I couldn't see, but
I hung on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Then a human voice
said, "Damn you—you're choking me!" And the monster thinned.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Through the
diminishing smoke of the dream-creature, I saw Donaldson, and I was clutching
his throat. He still held the black box in his hand, but it was slipping from
his grasp, slipping....<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He dropped it. It
clattered to the floor and I kicked it far across the cabin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The monster
vanished completely.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It was just the
two of us, there in the cabin. I heard fists pounding on the door from outside,
but </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I ignored them. This was between me and Donaldson.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"What is that
thing?" I asked, facing him, tugging at his throat. I shook him.
"Where'd you find that hell-thing?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Wouldn't you
like to know?" he wheezed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">My fingers
tightened. Suddenly he drew up his foot and lashed out at my stomach. I let go
of his throat and fell back, the wind knocked out of me. As I staggered
backward, he darted for the fallen box, but I recovered and brought my foot
down hard on his outstretched hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He snarled in
pain. I felt his other fist crash into my stomach again. I was almost numb,
sick, ready to curl up in a knot and close my eyes. But I forced myself to suck
in breath and hit him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">His head snapped
back. I hit him again, and he reeled soggily. His neat, precise lips swelled
into a bloody mass. His fists moved hazily; I blackened one of his eyes, and he
groaned and slumped. Fury was in my fists; I was avenging the honor of the
Exploratory Wing against the one man who had broken its oaths.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Enough ...
enough...."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">But I hit him
again and again, till he sagged to the floor. I picked up the black metal box,
fondled it in my hands. Then, tentatively, I threw a thought at it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Monster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The monster
appeared in all its ugliness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Vanish.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">It vanished.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"That's how
it works, isn't it?" I said. "It's a thought projector. That monster
never existed outside your own mind, Donaldson."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">"Don't hit me
again," he whined. I didn't. He was beneath contempt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I threw open the
door and saw the other crewmen huddled outside, their faces pale. "It's
all over," I said. "Here's your monster."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">I held out the
black box.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">We held court on
Donaldson that night, and he made full confession. That first day, he had
stumbled over an alien treasure in the cave beyond the hill—that, and the
thought-converter. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The idea came to him that perhaps, as sole survivor of the
expedition, he could turn some of the treasure to his own uses.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBbKQ2ZC1WZEZLhrwlfQRE3nXtApFPhKjMjAMuxa5sZP8-hB3wwGiumjbLjKNzjDMyrc1V-dsjgKqWehck83nHLSua44NNen9k4QsbCuLrgJU4ymppXqljzoL_Ct7v0JvOjpj83UHHOZYqCf6uC7o9i5m8bpsHBo1FdyOmskkkaGmBKmixIjSJ8B1MJc/s999/ce964b19ccf7a3bcf5763be2242eb762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="999" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBbKQ2ZC1WZEZLhrwlfQRE3nXtApFPhKjMjAMuxa5sZP8-hB3wwGiumjbLjKNzjDMyrc1V-dsjgKqWehck83nHLSua44NNen9k4QsbCuLrgJU4ymppXqljzoL_Ct7v0JvOjpj83UHHOZYqCf6uC7o9i5m8bpsHBo1FdyOmskkkaGmBKmixIjSJ8B1MJc/w400-h400/ce964b19ccf7a3bcf5763be2242eb762.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Silverberg, (centre), in this vintage photo.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">So he utilized the
thought-converter in a campaign to pick us off one by one without aiming suspicion
at himself. Only his clumsy way of pretending to see the creature himself had
given him away; else he might have killed us all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Our rulebook gave
no guide on what to do about him—but we reached a decision easily enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">When we left
Pollux V, taking with us samples of the treasure, and other specimens of the
long-dead race (including the thought-converter) we left Donaldson behind, on
the bare, lifeless planet, with about a week's supply of food and air.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">No one ever
learned of his treachery. We listed him as a casualty, along with Max and Leo,
when we returned to Earth. The Exploratory Wing had too noble a name to tarnish
by revealing what Donaldson had done ... and none of us will ever speak the
truth. The Wing means too much to us for that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">And I think
they're going to award him a posthumous medal....<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Poor old Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://play.google.com/store/info/name/Louis_Shalako?id=12p9828sb" target="_blank">books and stories available from Google Play.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">He has <a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" target="_blank">art
available from ArtPal.</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Grab <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank">a free copyof One Million Words of Crap,</a> from Google Play.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Check out <a href="https://bringerofrain.blogspot.com/2023/07/not-in-my-back-yard-cure-for-nimbyism.html" target="_blank">this other story </a>here.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Thank you for
reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 2.85pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-67251261595795936812023-12-28T12:33:00.005-05:002023-12-28T12:46:05.268-05:00The Expendables. A. E. van Vogt.<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXznMncTNj7gBnCBdqvyDgyATK-iaHj70pP1kBEOFrYNTnrPUyHhmUdJph3BshrTEMPv1qFv63T9l77bKL_jB9LDPYW2BDZyOJBNxNFo-w79VZGtA8ezHpwCQbZLizpy_8CbHPhe8BvaWEQxaZduTajkX36UlMRLmzkpIo03bPCXIWsngza8uxqeqNbjY/s667/high-tech-sci-fi-spaceship-3d-model-low-poly-obj-fbx-stl-blend-dae-gltf.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="667" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXznMncTNj7gBnCBdqvyDgyATK-iaHj70pP1kBEOFrYNTnrPUyHhmUdJph3BshrTEMPv1qFv63T9l77bKL_jB9LDPYW2BDZyOJBNxNFo-w79VZGtA8ezHpwCQbZLizpy_8CbHPhe8BvaWEQxaZduTajkX36UlMRLmzkpIo03bPCXIWsngza8uxqeqNbjY/w640-h480/high-tech-sci-fi-spaceship-3d-model-low-poly-obj-fbx-stl-blend-dae-gltf.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <i>Hope of Earth.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._E._van_Vogt" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: times;">A. E. van Vogt</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-outline-level: 1;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The </span></span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Expendables</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-outline-level: 1;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-outline-level: 1;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-outline-level: 2;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;">T</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 13pt;">he alien was deadly, dangerous and inhuman—but he was not the most
feared enemy on the ship!</span></b></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">One hundred and nine years after leaving Earth, the
spaceship, <i>Hope of Man</i>, went into orbit around Alta III.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The following "morning" Captain Browne informed the
shipload of fourth and fifth generation colonists that a manned lifeboat would
be dropped to the planet's surface.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Every member of the crew must consider himself
expendable," he said earnestly. "This is the day that our great
grandparents, our forefathers, who boldly set out for the new space frontier so
long ago, looked forward to with unfaltering courage. We must not fail
them."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He concluded his announcement over the intercom system of the big
ship by saying that the names of the crew members of the lifeboat would be
given out within the hour. "And I know that every real man aboard will
want to see his name there."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">John Lesbee, the fifth of his line aboard, had a sinking sensation
as he heard those words—and he was not mistaken.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Even as he tried to decide if he should give the signal for a
desperate act of rebellion, Captain Browne made the expected announcement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The commander said, "And I know you will all join him in his
moment of pride and courage when I tell you that John Lesbee will lead the crew
that carries the hopes of man in this remote area of space. And now the
others—"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He thereupon named seven of the nine persons with whom Lesbee had
been conspiring to seize control of the ship.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Since the lifeboat would only hold eight persons, Lesbee
recognized that Browne was dispatching as many of his enemies as he could. He
listened with a developing dismay, as the commander ordered all persons on the
ship to come to the recreation room. "Here I request that the crew of the
lifeboat join me and the other officers on stage. Their instructions are to
surrender themselves to any craft which seeks to intercept them. They will be
equipped with instruments whereby we here can watch, and determine the stage of
scientific attainments of the dominant race on the planet below."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee hurried to his room on the technicians' deck, hoping that
perhaps Tellier or Cantlin would seek him out there. He felt himself in need of
a council of war, however brief. He waited five minutes, but not one member of
his conspiratorial group showed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Nonetheless, he had time to grow calm. Peculiarly, it was the
smell of the ship that soothed him most. From the earliest days of his life,
the odor of energy and the scent of metal under stress had been perpetual
companions. At the moment, with the ship in orbit, there was a letting up of
stress. The smell was of old energies rather than new. But the effect was
similar.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He sat in the chair he used for reading, eyes closed, breathing in
that complex of odors, product of so many titanic energies. Sitting there, he
felt the fear leave his mind and body. He grew brave again, and strong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee recognized soberly that his plan to seize power had
involved risks. Worse, no one would question Browne's choice of him as the
leader of the mission. "I am," thought Lesbee, "probably the
most highly trained technician ever to be on this ship." Browne Three had
taken him when he was ten, and started him on the long grind of learning that
led him, one after the other, to master the mechanical skills of all the
various technical departments. And Browne Four had continued his training.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He was taught how to repair relay systems. He gradually came to
understand the purposes of countless analogs. The time came when he could
visualize the entire automation. Long ago, the colossal cobweb of electronic
instruments within the walls had become almost an extension of his nervous
system.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">During those years of work and study, each daily apprenticeship
chore left his slim body exhausted. After he came off duty, he sought a brief
relaxation and usually retired to an early rest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He never did find the time to learn the intricate theory that
underlay the ship's many operations.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His father, while he was alive, had made numerous attempts to pass
his knowledge on to his son. But it was hard to teach complexities to a tired
and sleepy boy. Lesbee even felt slightly relieved when his parent died. It
took the pressure off him. Since then, however, he had come to realize that the
Browne family, by forcing a lesser skill on the descendant of the original
commander of the ship, had won their greatest victory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As he headed finally for the recreation room, Lesbee found himself
wondering: Had the Brownes trained him with the intention of preparing him for
such a mission as this?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His eyes widened. If that was true, then his own conspiracy was
merely an excuse. The decision to kill him might actually have been made more
than a decade ago, and light years away....<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As the lifeboat fell toward Alta III, Lesbee and Tellier sat in the twin
control chairs and watched on the forward screen the vast, misty atmosphere of
the planet.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Tellier was thin and intellectual, a descendant of the physicist Dr.
Tellier who had made many speed experiments in the early days of the voyage. It
had never been understood why spaceships could not attain even a good fraction
of the speed of light, let alone velocities greater than light. When the
scientist met his untimely death, there was no one with the training to carry
on a testing program.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was vaguely believed by the trained personnel who succeeded Tellier
that the ship had run into one of the paradoxes implicit in the
Lorenz-Fitzgerald Contraction theory.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Whatever the explanation, it was never solved.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Watching Tellier, Lesbee wondered if his companion and best friend felt
as empty inside as he did. Incredibly, this was the first time he—or anyone—had
been outside the big ship. "We're actually heading down," he thought,
"to one of those great masses of land and water, a planet."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As he watched, fascinated, the massive ball grew visibly bigger.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">They came in at a slant, a long, swift, angling approach, ready to jet
away if any of the natural radiation belts proved too much for their defense
systems. But as each stage of radiation registered in turn, the dials showed
that the lifeboat machinery made the proper responses automatically.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The silence was shattered suddenly by an alarm bell.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Simultaneously, one of the screens focused on a point of rapidly moving
light far below.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The light darted toward them.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A missile!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee caught his breath.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">But the shining projectile veered off, turned completely around, took up
position several miles away, and began to fall with them.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His first thought was: "They'll never let us land," and he
experienced an intense disappointment.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Another signal brrred from the control board.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"They're probing us," said Tellier, tensely.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">An instant after the words were uttered, the lifeboat seemed to shudder
and to stiffen under them. It was the unmistakable feel of a tractor beam. Its
field clutched the lifeboat, drew it, held it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The science of the Alta III inhabitants was already proving itself
formidable.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Underneath him the lifeboat continued its movement.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The entire crew gathered around and watched as the point of brightness
resolved into an object, which rapidly grew larger. It loomed up close, bigger
than they.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">There was a metallic bump. The lifeboat shuddered from stem to stern.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Even before the vibrations ceased Tellier said, "Notice they put
our airlock against theirs."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Behind Lesbee, his companions began that peculiar joking of the
threatened. It was a coarse comedy, but it had enough actual humor suddenly to
break through his fear.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Involuntarily he found himself laughing.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWii4XHHBfAW11nYW_RAa4XCpO6_JiE9f4VvpY1IP3mA3lYbQSEzLP4behzF06PC3Oe6HAbVMhI1jFTvJqKLsiFlNMQYB-9Uv0J8SQF9rJLmPYVsPFkmM0BHDDdJjqHQhLKuQRtckSvZmeORfOGBH5m5QCNDp_VdkkYw66gfIO2Q4fRDQm9jnLyotnxKw/s1245/47945fb888bc4101029b0decacb50832-700.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="1245" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWii4XHHBfAW11nYW_RAa4XCpO6_JiE9f4VvpY1IP3mA3lYbQSEzLP4behzF06PC3Oe6HAbVMhI1jFTvJqKLsiFlNMQYB-9Uv0J8SQF9rJLmPYVsPFkmM0BHDDdJjqHQhLKuQRtckSvZmeORfOGBH5m5QCNDp_VdkkYw66gfIO2Q4fRDQm9jnLyotnxKw/w640-h360/47945fb888bc4101029b0decacb50832-700.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then, momentarily free of anxiety, aware that Browne was watching and
that there was no escape, he said, "Open the airlock! Let the aliens
capture us as ordered."</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">II<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A few minutes after the outer airlock was opened, the airlock of
the alien ship folded back also. Rubberized devices rolled out and contacted
the Earth lifeboat, sealing off both entrances from the vacuum of space.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Air hissed into the interlocking passageway between the two craft.
In the alien craft's lock, an inner door opened.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Again Lesbee held his breath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">There was a movement in the passageway. A creature ambled into
view. The being came forward with complete assurance, and pounded with
something he held at the end of one of his four leathery arms on the hull.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The creature had four legs and four arms, and a long thin body
held straight up. It had almost no neck, yet the many skin folds between the
head and the body indicated great flexibility was possible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Even as Lesbee noted the details of its appearance, the being
turned his head slightly, and its two large expressionless eyes gazed straight
at the hidden wall receptor that was photographing the scene, and therefore
straight into Lesbee's eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee blinked at the creature, then tore his gaze away, swallowed
hard, and nodded at Tellier. "Open up!" he commanded.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The moment the inner door of the Earth lifeboat opened, six more
of the four-legged beings appeared one after another in the passageway, and
walked forward in the same confident way as had the first.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">All seven creatures entered the open door of the lifeboat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As they entered their thoughts came instantly into Lesbee's
mind....<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As Dzing and his boarding party trotted from the small Karn ship
through the connecting airlock, his chief officer thought a message to him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Air pressure and oxygen content are within a tiny percentage
of what exists at ground level on Karn. They can certainly live on our
planet."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dzing moved forward into the Earth ship, and realized that he was
in the craft's control chamber. There, for the first time, he saw the men. He
and his crew ceased their forward motion; and the two groups of beings—the
humans and the Karn—gazed at each other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The appearance of the two-legged beings did not surprise Dzing.
Pulse viewers had, earlier, penetrated the metal walls of the lifeboat and had
accurately photographed the shape and dimension of those aboard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His first instruction to his crew was designed to test if the
strangers were, in fact, surrendering. He commanded: "Convey to the
prisoners that we require them as a precaution to remove their clothing."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">... Until that direction was given, Lesbee was still uncertain as
to whether or not these beings could receive human thoughts as he was receiving
theirs. From the first moment, the aliens had conducted their mental
conversations <i>as if</i> they were unaware of the thoughts of the
human beings. Now he watched the Karn come forward. One tugged suggestively at
his clothing. And there was no doubt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The mental telepathy was a one-way flow only—from the Karn to the
humans.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He was already savoring the implications of that as he hastily
undressed.... It was absolutely vital that Browne do not find it out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee removed all his clothes; then, before laying them down,
took out his notebook and pen. Standing there naked he wrote hurriedly:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Don't let on that we can read the minds of these
beings."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He handed the notebook around, and he felt a lot better as each of
the men read it, and nodded at him silently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dzing communicated telepathically with someone on the ground.
"These strangers," he reported, "clearly acted under command to
surrender. The problem is, how can we now let them overcome us without arousing
their suspicion that this is what we want them to do?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee did not receive the answer directly. But he picked it up
from Dzing's mind: "Start tearing the lifeboat apart. See if that brings a
reaction."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The members of the Karn boarding party went to work at once. Off came
the control panels; floor plates were melted and ripped up. Soon instruments,
wiring, controls were exposed for examination. Most interesting of all to the
aliens were the numerous computers and their accessories.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne must have watched the destruction; for now, before the Karn could
start wrecking the automatic machinery, his voice interjected:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Watch out, you men! I'm going to shut your airlock and cause your
boat to make a sharp right turn in exactly twenty seconds."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">For Lesbee and Tellier that simply meant sitting down in their chairs,
and turning them so that the acceleration pressure would press them against the
backs. The other men sank to the ripped-up floor, and braced themselves.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Underneath Dzing, the ship swerved. The turn began slowly, but it
propelled him and his fellows over to one wall of the control room. There he
grabbed with his numerous hands at some handholds that had suddenly moved out
from the smooth metal. By the time the turn grew sharper, he had his four short
legs braced, and he took the rest of the wide swing around with every part of
his long, sleek body taut. His companions did the same.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Presently, the awful pressure eased up, and he was able to estimate that
their new direction was almost at right angles to what it had been.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had reported what was happening while it was going on. Now, the
answer came:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Keep on destroying. See what they do, and be prepared to succumb
to anything that looks like a lethal attack."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee wrote quickly in his notebook: "Our method of capturing them
doesn't have to be subtle. They'll make it easy for us—so we can't lose."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee waited tensely as the notebook was passed around. It was still
hard for him to believe that no one else had noticed what he had about this
boarding party.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Tellier added a note of his own: "It's obvious now that these
beings were also instructed to consider themselves expendable."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">And that settled it for Lesbee. The others hadn't noticed what he had.
He sighed with relief at the false analysis, for it gave him that most perfect
of all advantages: that which derived from his special education.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Apparently, he alone knew enough to have analyzed what these creatures
were.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The proof was in the immense clarity of their thoughts. Long ago, on
earth, it had been established that man had a faltering telepathic ability,
which could be utilized consistently only by electronic amplification </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">outside</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> his
brain. The amount of energy needed for the step-up process was enough to burn
out brain nerves, if applied directly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Since the Karn were utilizing it directly, they couldn't be living
beings.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Therefore, Dzing and his fellows were an advanced robot type.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The true inhabitants of Alta III were not risking their own skins at
all.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Far more important to Lesbee, he could see how he might use these
marvellous mechanisms to defeat Browne, take over the </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">Hope of Man</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;">,
and start the long journey back to Earth.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">III<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had been watching the Karn at their
work of destruction, while he had these thoughts. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Now, he said aloud: "Hainker,
Graves."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Yes?" The two men spoke
together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"In a few moments I'm going to ask
Captain Browne to turn the ship again. When he does, use our specimen gas
guns!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The men grinned with relief.
"Consider it done," said Hainker.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee ordered the other four crewmen to
be ready to use the specimen-holding devices at top speed. To Tellier he said,
"You take charge if anything happens to me."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then he wrote one more message in the
notebook: "These beings will probably continue their mental
intercommunication after they are apparently rendered unconscious. Pay no
attention, and do not comment on it in any way."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He felt a lot better when that statement
also had been read by the others, and the notebook was once more in his
possession. Quickly, he spoke to the screen:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Captain Browne! Make another turn,
just enough to pin them."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">And so they captured Dzing and his crew.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB4dCrpwSHBEOgpBsqKq87dzTLkgIeNIZMO2TbrMStEJDFZXosIblE-y9RSHpnPqxkIyJWQST1oeWwg0-Wjh25DLW192kvFj7mSpUmFL90td1-FwSXFN3_g3BJlWpaB-eo_jzqZ_pBQ0psNrrbjdqfMPlQ3CXGh3XVtPCCryWSyEQB1wAB1ciVsasyeI/s1920/alien-lmerooawyqjhk5tc.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="1920" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB4dCrpwSHBEOgpBsqKq87dzTLkgIeNIZMO2TbrMStEJDFZXosIblE-y9RSHpnPqxkIyJWQST1oeWwg0-Wjh25DLW192kvFj7mSpUmFL90td1-FwSXFN3_g3BJlWpaB-eo_jzqZ_pBQ0psNrrbjdqfMPlQ3CXGh3XVtPCCryWSyEQB1wAB1ciVsasyeI/w640-h384/alien-lmerooawyqjhk5tc.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Dzing, try and spell it right, okay.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">As he had expected, the Karn continued
their telepathic conversation. Dzing reported to his ground contact: "I
think we did that rather well."</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">There must have been an answering message
from below, because he went on, "Yes, commander. We are now prisoners as
per your instructions, and shall await events.... The imprisoning method? Each
of us is pinned down by a machine which has been placed astride us, with the
main section adjusted to the contour of our bodies. A series of rigid metal appendages
fasten our arms and legs. All these devices are electronically controlled, and
we can of course escape at any time. Naturally, such action is for
later...."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee was chilled by the analysis; but
for expendables there was no turning back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He ordered his men: "Get dressed.
Then start repairing the ship. Put all the floor plates back except the section
at G-8. They removed some of the analogs, and I'd better make sure myself that
it all goes back all right."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">When he had dressed, he re-set the course
of the lifeboat, and called Browne. The screen lit up after a moment, and there
staring back at him was the unhappy countenance of the forty-year-old officer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said glumly: "I want to
congratulate you and your crew on your accomplishments. It would seem that we
have a small scientific superiority over this race, and that we can attempt a
limited landing."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Since there would never be a landing on
Alta III, Lesbee simply waited without comment as Browne seemed lost in
thought.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The officer stirred finally. He still
seemed uncertain. "Mr. Lesbee," he said, "as you must
understand, this is an extremely dangerous situation for me—and—" he added
hastily—"for this entire expedition."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">What struck Lesbee, as he heard those
words, was that Browne was not going to let him back on the ship. But he had to
get aboard to accomplish his own purpose. He thought: <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I'll have to bring this whole
conspiracy out into the open, and apparently make a compromise offer."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He drew a deep breath, gazed straight into
the eyes of Browne's image on the screen and said with the complete courage of
a man for whom there is no turning back: "It seems to me, sir, that we
have two alternatives. We can resolve all these personal problems either
through a democratic election or by a joint captaincy, you being one of the
captains and I being the other."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">To any other person who might have been listening the remark must
have seemed a complete non sequitur. Browne, however, understood its relevance.
He said with a sneer, <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"So you're out in the open. Well, let me tell you, Mr.
Lesbee, there was never any talk of elections when the Lesbees were in power.
And for a very good reason. A spaceship requires a technical aristocracy to
command it. As for a joint captaincy, it wouldn't work."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee urged his lie: "If we're going to stay here, we'll
need at least two people of equal authority—one on the ground, one on the
ship."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I couldn't trust you on the ship!" said Browne flatly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Then you be on the ship," Lesbee proposed. "All
such practical details can be arranged."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The older man must have been almost beside himself with the
intensity of his own feelings on this subject. He flashed, "Your family
has been out of power for over fifty years! How can you still feel that you
have any rights?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee countered, "How come you still know what I'm talking
about?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said, a grinding rage in his tone, "The concept of
inherited power was introduced by the first Lesbee. It was never planned."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"But here you are," said Lesbee, "yourself a
beneficiary of inherited power."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said from between clenched teeth: "It's absolutely
ridiculous that the Earth government which was in power when the ship left—and
every member of which has been long dead—should appoint somebody to a command
position ... and that now his descendant think that command post should be his,
and his family's, for all time!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee was silent, startled by the dark emotions he had uncovered
in the man. He felt even more justified, if that were possible, and advanced
his next suggestion without a qualm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Captain, this is a crisis. We should postpone our private
struggle. Why don't we bring one of these prisoners aboard so that we can
question him by use of films, or play acting? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Later, we can discuss your situation and mine."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He saw from the look on Browne's face that the reasonableness of
the suggestion, <i>and its potentialities</i>, were penetrating.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said quickly, "Only you come aboard—and with one
prisoner only. No one else!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee felt a dizzying thrill as the man responded to his bait. He
thought: "It's like an exercise in logic. He'll try to murder me as soon
as he gets me alone and is satisfied that he can attack without danger to
himself. But that very scheme is what will get me aboard. And I've got to get
on the ship to carry out <i>my</i> plan."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne was frowning. He said in a concerned tone: "Mr.
Lesbee, can you think of any reason why we should not bring one of these beings
aboard?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee shook his head. "No reason, sir," he lied.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne seemed to come to a decision. "Very well. I'll see you
shortly, and we can then discuss additional details."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee dared not say another word. He nodded, and broke the
connection, shuddering, disturbed, uneasy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"But," he thought, "what else can we do?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgO83XvvpRjHoesKvU5DwYfScd6N2Zds0MwfZLh_dqGF_wtjSmDWZjL6oHX6gl8dvOHkIRJlmKOlWfEKH_MBAd7rUJK-c64PR9Lnhev8WCWMm_aWeJuyrSFn_p6nEAq-qf19v_JAAcS0E2eQSgVLAHDXZiV1kp0xYz1as_AiZffGQVrlkkZCGpYswDza8/s755/71AAni1SMRL._AC_UF894,1000_QL80_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="517" data-original-width="755" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgO83XvvpRjHoesKvU5DwYfScd6N2Zds0MwfZLh_dqGF_wtjSmDWZjL6oHX6gl8dvOHkIRJlmKOlWfEKH_MBAd7rUJK-c64PR9Lnhev8WCWMm_aWeJuyrSFn_p6nEAq-qf19v_JAAcS0E2eQSgVLAHDXZiV1kp0xYz1as_AiZffGQVrlkkZCGpYswDza8/w640-h438/71AAni1SMRL._AC_UF894,1000_QL80_.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He turned his attention to the part of the floor that had been
left open for him. Quickly, he bent down and studied the codes on each of the
programming units, as if he were seeking exactly the right ones that had
originally been in those slots.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He found the series he wanted: an intricate system of
cross-connected units that had originally been designed to program a
remote-control landing system, an advanced Waldo mechanism capable of landing
the craft on a planet and taking off again, all directed on the pulse level of
human thought.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He slid each unit of the series into its sequential position and
locked it in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then, that important task completed, he picked up the remote
control attachment for the series and casually put it in his pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He returned to the control board and spent several minutes
examining the wiring and comparing it with a wall chart. A number of wires had
been torn loose. These he now re-connected, and at the same time he managed
with a twist of his pliers to short-circuit a key relay of the remote control pilot.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee replaced the panel itself loosely. There was no time to
connect it properly. And, since he could easily justify his next move, he
pulled a cage out of the store-room. Into this he hoisted Dzing, manacles and
all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Before lowering the lid he rigged into the cage a simple resistor
that would prevent the Karn from broadcasting on the human thought level. The
device was simple merely in that it was not selective. It had an on-off switch
which triggered, or stopped, energy flow in the metal walls on the thought
level.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">When the device was installed, Lesbee slipped the tiny remote
control for <i>it</i> into his other pocket. He did not activate the
control. Not yet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">From the cage Dzing telepathed: "It is significant that these
beings have selected me for this special attention. We might conclude that it
is a matter of mathematical accident, or else that they are very observant and
so noticed that I was the one who directed activities. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Whatever the reason, it would be foolish to turn back now."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A bell began to ring. As Lesbee watched, a spot of light appeared
high on one of the screens. It moved rapidly toward some crossed lines in the
exact center of the screen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Inexorably, then, the <i>Hope of Man</i>, as represented by
the light, and the lifeboat moved toward their fateful rendezvous.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">IV<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne's instructions were: "Come to Control Room
Below!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee guided his powered dolly with the cage on it out of the big
ship's airlock—and saw that the man in the control room of the lock was Second
Officer Selwyn. Heavy brass for such a routine task. Selwyn waved at him with a
twisted smile as Lesbee wheeled his cargo along the silent corridor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He saw no one else on his route. Other personnel had evidently
been cleared from this part of the vessel. A little later, grim and determined,
he set the cage down in the center of the big room and anchored it magnetically
to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As Lesbee entered the captain's office, Browne looked up from one
of the two control chairs and stepped down from the rubber-sheathed dais to the
same level as Lesbee. He came forward, smiling, and held out his hand. He was a
big man, as all the Brownes had been, bigger by a head than Lesbee,
good-looking in a clean-cut way. The two men were alone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I'm glad you were so frank," he said. "I doubt if
I could have spoken so bluntly to you without your initiative as an
example."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">But as they shook hands, Lesbee was wary and suspicious. Lesbee
thought: "He's trying to recover from the insanity of his reaction. I
really blew him wide open."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne continued in the same hearty tone: "I've made up my
mind. An election is out of the question. The ship is swarming with untrained
dissident groups, most of which simply want to go back to Earth."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee, who had the same desire, was discreetly silent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said, "You'll be ground captain; I'll be ship captain.
Why don't we sit down right now and work out a communique on which we can agree
and that I can read over the intercom to the others?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As Lesbee seated himself in the chair beside Browne, he was thinking:
"What can be gained from publicly naming me ground captain?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He concluded finally, cynically, that the older man could gain the
confidence of John Lesbee—lull him, lead him on, delude him, destroy him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Surreptitiously Lesbee examined the room. Control Room Below was a
large square chamber adjoining the massive central engines. Its control board
was a duplicate of the one on the bridge located at the top of the ship. The
great vessel could be guided equally from either board, except that pre-emptive
power was on the bridge. The officer of the watch was given the right to make
Merit decisions in an emergency.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee made a quick mental calculation, and deduced that it was
First Officer Miller's watch on the bridge. Miller was a staunch supporter of
Browne. The man was probably watching them on one of his screens, ready to come
to Browne's aid at a moment's notice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A few minutes later, Lesbee listened thoughtfully as Browne read
their joint communique over the intercom, designating him as ground captain. He
found himself a little amazed, and considerably dismayed, at the absolute
confidence the older man must feel about his own power and position on the
ship. It was a big step, naming his chief rival to so high a rank.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne's next act was equally surprising. While they were still on
the viewers, Browne reached over, clapped Lesbee affectionately on the
shoulders and said to the watching audience:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"As you all know, John is the only direct descendant of the
original captain. No one knows exactly what happened half a hundred years ago
when my grandfather first took command. But I remember the old man always felt
that only he understood how things should be. I doubt if he had any confidence
in <i>any</i> young whippersnapper over whom he did not have complete
control. I often felt that my father was the victim rather than the beneficiary
of my grandfather's temper and feelings of superiority."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne smiled engagingly. "Anyway, good people, though we
can't unbreak the eggs that were broken then, we can certainly start healing
the wounds, without—" his tone was suddenly firm—"negating the fact
that my own training and experience make me the proper commander of the ship
itself."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He broke off. "Captain Lesbee and I shall now jointly attempt
to communicate with the captured intelligent life form from the planet below.
You may watch, though we reserve the right to cut you off for good
reason." He turned to Lesbee. "What do you think we should do first,
John?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee was in a dilemma. The first large doubt had come to him,
the possibility that perhaps the other was sincere. The possibility was
especially disturbing because in a few moments a part of his own plan would be
revealed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He sighed, and realized that there was no turning back at this
stage. He thought: "We'll have to bring the entire madness out into the
open, and only then can we begin to consider agreement as real."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Aloud, he said in a steady voice, "Why not bring the prisoner
out where we can see him?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As the tractor beam lifted Dzing out of the cage, and thus away
from the energies that had suppressed his thought waves, the Karn telepathed to
his contact on Alta III:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Have been held in a confined space, the metal of which was
energized against communication. I shall now attempt to perceive and evaluate
the condition and performance of this ship—"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">At that point, Browne reached over and clicked off the intercom.
Having shut off the audience, he turned accusingly to Lesbee, and said,
"Explain your failure to inform me that these beings communicated by telepathy."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The tone of his voice was threatening. There was a hint of angry
color in his face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was the moment of discovery.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee hesitated, and then simply pointed out how precarious their
relationship had been.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He finished frankly, "I thought by keeping it a secret I might be
able to stay alive a little longer, which was certainly not what you intended
when you sent me out as an expendable."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne snapped, "But how did you hope to utilize?—"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He stopped. "Never mind," he muttered.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dzing was telepathing again:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"In many ways this is mechanically a very advanced type ship.
Atomic energy drives are correctly installed. The automatic machinery performs
magnificently. There is massive energy screen equipment, and they can put out a
tractor beam to match anything we have that's mobile. But there is a wrongness
in the energy flows of this ship, which I lack the experience to interpret. Let
me furnish you some data...."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The data consisted of variable wave measurements, evidently—so Lesbee
deduced—the wave-lengths of the energy flows involved in the
"wrongness."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He said in alarm at that point, "Better drop him into the cage
while we analyze what he could be talking about."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne did so—as Dzing telepathed: "If what you suggest is true,
then these beings are completely at our mercy—"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Cut off!</span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne was turning on the intercom. "Sorry I had to cut you good
people off," he said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"You'll be interested to know that we have managed to tune in on
the thought pulses of the prisoner and have intercepted his calls to someone on
the planet below. This gives us an advantage." He turned to Lesbee.
"Don't you agree?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Browne visibly showed no anxiety, whereas Dzing's final statement
flabbergasted Lesbee. "... </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">completely at our mercy</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> ..."
surely meant exactly that. He was staggered that</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne could have missed the momentous meaning.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne addressed him enthusiastically, "I'm excited by this
telepathy! It's a marvelous short-cut to communication, if we could build up
our own thought pulses. Maybe we could use the principle of the remote-control
landing device which, as you know, can project human thoughts on a simple,
gross level, where ordinary energies get confused by the intense field needed
for the landing."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">What interested Lesbee in the suggestion was that he had in his pocket a
remote control for precisely such mechanically produced thought pulses.
Unfortunately, the control was for the lifeboat. It probably would be advisable
to tune the control to the ship landing system also. It was a problem he had
thought of earlier, and now Browne had opened the way for an easy solution.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He held his voice steady as he said, "Captain, let me program those
landing analogs while you prepare the film communication project. That way we
can be ready for him either way."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne seemed to be completely trusting, for he agreed at once.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">At Browne's direction, a film projector was wheeled in. It was swiftly
mounted on solid connections at one end of the room. The cameraman and Third
Officer Mindel—who had come in with him—strapped themselves into two adjoining
chairs attached to the projector, and were evidently ready.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__t1frWvaK-NhHV1II1-WmXqpSTgvvtYUFubX0gqu7PVRFchMJoc01PWL5dkk_BFSA0A3wroUFtAIoQiX-sOeOmgLbQamyTn_-3HkNcfFiUO5BFXZYe9HQ3e3jNE8Js88PHxX7h9qPIhA02PG8gLa_PcV8wYTUjh3ZIia3930x4r0kV80aeP1TmF8Mts/s1920/wallhaven-48ye8j.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__t1frWvaK-NhHV1II1-WmXqpSTgvvtYUFubX0gqu7PVRFchMJoc01PWL5dkk_BFSA0A3wroUFtAIoQiX-sOeOmgLbQamyTn_-3HkNcfFiUO5BFXZYe9HQ3e3jNE8Js88PHxX7h9qPIhA02PG8gLa_PcV8wYTUjh3ZIia3930x4r0kV80aeP1TmF8Mts/w640-h360/wallhaven-48ye8j.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Images are free wallpapers... - ed.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">While this was going on, Lesbee called various technical personnel. Only
one technician protested. "But, John," he said, "that way we
have a double control—with the lifeboat control having pre-emption over the
ship. That's very unusual."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was unusual. But it was the lifeboat control that was in his pocket
where he could reach it quickly; and so he said adamantly, "Do you want to
talk to Captain Browne? Do you want his okay?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"No, no." The technician's doubts seemed to subside. "I
heard you being named joint captain. You're the boss. It shall be done."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee put down the closed-circuit phone into which he had been talking,
and turned. It was then he saw that the film was ready to roll, and that Browne
had his fingers on the controls of the tractor beam. The older man stared at
him questioningly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Shall I go ahead?" he asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">At this penultimate moment, Lesbee had a qualm.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Almost immediately he realized that the only alternative to what Browne
planned was that he reveal his own secret knowledge.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He hesitated, torn by doubts. Then: "Will you turn that off?"
He indicated the intercom.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said to the audience, "We'll bring you in again on this in a
minute, good people."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He broke the connection and gazed questioningly at Lesbee.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Whereupon Lesbee said in a low voice, "Captain, I should inform you
that I brought the Karn aboard in the hope of using him against you."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Well, that is a frank and open admission," the officer
replied very softly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I mention this," said Lesbee, "because if you had
similar ulterior motives, we should clear the air completely before proceeding
with this attempt at communication."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A blossom of color spread from Browne's neck over his face. At last he
said slowly, "I don't know how I can convince you, but I had no
schemes."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee gazed at Browne's open countenance, and suddenly he realized that
the officer was sincere. Browne had accepted the compromise. The solution of a
joint captaincy was agreeable to him.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Sitting there, Lesbee experienced an enormous joy. Seconds went by
before he realized what underlay the intense pleasurable excitement. It was
simply the discovery that—communication worked. You could tell your truth and
get a hearing ... if it made sense.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It seemed to him that his truth made a lot of sense. He was offering
Browne peace aboard the ship. Peace at a price, of course; but still peace. And
in this severe emergency Browne recognized the entire validity of the solution.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">So it was now evident to Lesbee.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Without further hesitation he told Browne that the creatures who had
boarded the lifeboat, were robots—not alive at all.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne was nodding thoughtfully. Finally he said: "But I don't see
how this could be utilized to take over the ship."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee said patiently, "As you know, sir, the remote landing
control system includes five principal ideas which are projected very forcibly
on the thought level. Three of these are for guidance—up, down and sideways.
Intense magnetic fields, any one of which could partially jam a complex robot's
thinking processes. The fourth and fifth are instructions to blast either up or
down. The force of the blast depends on how far the control is turned on. Since
the energy used is overwhelming those simple commands would take pre-emption
over the robot. When that first one came aboard the lifeboat, I had a scan
receiver—nondetectable—on him. This registered two power sources, one pointing
forward, one backward, from the chest level. That's why I had him on his back
when I brought him in here. But the fact is I could have had him tilted and
pointing at a target, and activated either control four or five, thus
destroying whatever was in the path of the resulting blast. Naturally, I took
all possible precautions to make sure that this did not happen until you had
indicated what you intended to do. One of these precautions would enable us to
catch this creature's thoughts without—"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As he was speaking, he eagerly put his hand into his pocket, intending
to show the older man the tiny on-off control device by which—when it was
off—they would be able to read Dzing's thoughts without removing him from the
cage.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He stopped short in his explanation, because an ugly expression had come
suddenly into Browne's face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The big man glanced at Third Officer Mindel. "Well, Dan," he
said, "do you think that's it?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee noticed with shock that Mindel had on sound amplifying earphones.
He must have overheard every word that Browne and he had spoken to each other.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Mindel nodded. "Yes, Captain," he said. "I very
definitely think he has now told us what we wanted to find out."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee grew aware that Browne had released himself from his acceleration
safety belt and was stepping away from his seat. The officer turned and,
standing very straight, said in a formal tone:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Technician Lesbee, we have heard your admission of gross
dereliction of duty, conspiracy to overthrow the lawful government of this
ship, scheme to utilize alien creatures to destroy human beings, and confession
of other unspeakable crimes. In this extremely dangerous situation, summary
execution without formal trial is justified. I therefore sentence you to death
and order Third Officer Dan Mindel to—"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He faltered, and came to a stop.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">V<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Two things had been happening as he talked, Lesbee squeezed the
"off" switch of the cage control, an entirely automatic gesture,
convulsive, a spasmodic movement, result of his dismay. It was a mindless
gesture. So far as he knew consciously, freeing Dzing's thoughts had no useful
possibility for him. His only real hope—as he realized almost immediately—was
to get his other hand into his remaining coat pocket and with it manipulate the
remote-control landing device, the secret of which he had so naively revealed
to Browne.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The second thing that happened was that Dzing, released from mental
control, telepathed:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Free again—and this time of course permanently! I have just now
activated by remote control the relays that will in a few moments start the
engines of this ship, and I have naturally re-set the mechanism for controlling
the rate of acceleration—"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1IWZm8NRSBjjKB6K1jaoqsf-Ihpz8xVnuPq4zfKNdY-ysY_vILnIXdIa1Sl-0D6B_Xy1DMuu6KhcaVeX7URWI2JqhK1hr3FJS7qT_g6_-FTbfuGKzkGb0yXZxD-NlA8g2FhyI6ICjrLEHSZNNDT3i8YQdA7ITNouoqTrrMhIcSYmwUfc_PS3BJ_csjvw/s460/240_F_599489542_UY01Lg95PbNWVd04FiNKnaTeYBv0qhE8.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="460" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1IWZm8NRSBjjKB6K1jaoqsf-Ihpz8xVnuPq4zfKNdY-ysY_vILnIXdIa1Sl-0D6B_Xy1DMuu6KhcaVeX7URWI2JqhK1hr3FJS7qT_g6_-FTbfuGKzkGb0yXZxD-NlA8g2FhyI6ICjrLEHSZNNDT3i8YQdA7ITNouoqTrrMhIcSYmwUfc_PS3BJ_csjvw/w640-h334/240_F_599489542_UY01Lg95PbNWVd04FiNKnaTeYBv0qhE8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dzing not happy.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His thoughts must have impinged progressively on Browne, for it was at
that point that the officer paused uncertainly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dzing continued: "I verified your analysis. This vessel does not
have the internal energy flows of an interstellar ship. These two-legged beings
have therefore failed to achieve the Light Speed Effect which alone makes
possible trans-light velocities. I suspect they have taken many generations to
make this journey, are far indeed for their home base, and I'm sure I can
capture them all."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee reached over, tripped on the intercom and yelled at the screen:
"All stations prepare for emergency acceleration! Grab anything!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">To Browne he shouted: "Get to your seat—</span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">quick</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;">!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His actions were automatic responses to danger. Only after the words
were spoken did it occur to him that he had no interest in the survival of
Captain Browne. And that in fact the only reason the man was in danger was because
he had stepped away from his safety belt, so that Mindel's blaster would kill
Lesbee without damaging Browne.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne evidently understood his danger. He started toward the control
chair from which he had released himself only moments before. His reaching
hands were still a foot or more from it when the impact of Acceleration One
stopped him. He stood there trembling like a man who had struck an invisible
but palpable wall. The next instant Acceleration Two caught him and thrust him
on his back to the floor. He began to slide toward the rear of the room, faster
and faster, and because he was quick and understanding he pressed the palms of
his hands and his rubber shoes hard against the floor and so tried to slow the
movement of his body.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee was picturing other people elsewhere in the ship desperately
trying to save themselves. He groaned, for the commander's failure was probably
being duplicated everywhere.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Even as he had that thought, Acceleration Three caught Browne. Like a
rock propelled by a catapult he shot toward the rear wall. It was cushioned to
protect human beings, and so it reacted like rubber, bouncing him a little. But
the stuff had only momentary resilience.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Acceleration Four pinned Browne halfway into the cushioned wall. From
its imprisoning depths, he managed a strangled yell.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Lesbee, put a tractor beam on me! Save me! I'll make it up to you.
I—"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Acceleration Five choked off the words.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The man's appeal brought momentary wonder to Lesbee. He was amazed that
Browne hoped for mercy ... after what had happened.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne's anguished words did produce one effect in him. They reminded
him that there was something he must do. He forced his hand and his arm to the
control board and focussed a tractor beam that firmly captured Third Officer Mindel
and the cameraman.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His intense effort was barely in time. Acceleration followed
acceleration, making movement impossible. The time between each surge of
increased speed grew longer. The slow minutes lengthened into what seemed an
hour, then many hours. Lesbee was held in his chair as if he were gripped by
hands of steel. His eyes felt glassy; his body had long since lost all feeling.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He noticed something.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The rate of acceleration was different from what the original Tellier
had prescribed long ago. The actual increase in forward pressure each time was
less.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He realized something else. For a long time, no thoughts had come from
the Karn.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Suddenly, he felt an odd shift in speed. A physical sensation of slight,
very slight, angular movement accompanied the maneuver.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Slowly, the metal-like bands let go of his body. The numb feeling was
replaced by the pricking as of thousands of tiny needles. Instead of
muscle-compressing acceleration there was only a steady pressure.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was the pressure that he had in the past equated with gravity.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee stirred hopefully, and when he felt himself move, realized what
had happened.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The artificial gravity had been shut off. Simultaneously, the ship had
made a half turn within its outer shell. The drive power was now coming from
below, a constant one gravity thrust.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">At this late, late moment, he plunged his hand into the pocket which
held the remote control for the pilotless landing mechanism—and activated it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"That ought to turn on his thoughts," he told himself
savagely.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">But if Dzing was telepathing to his masters, it was no longer on the
human thought level.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">So Lesbee concluded unhappily.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The ether was silent.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He now grew aware of something more. The ship smelled different: better,
cleaner, purer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee's gaze snapped over to the speed dials on the control board. The
figures registering there were unbelievable. They indicated that the spaceship
was traveling at a solid fraction of the speed of light.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee stared at the numbers incredulously. "We didn't have
time!" he thought. "How could we go so fast so quickly—in hours only
to near the speed of light!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Sitting there, breathing hard, fighting to recover from the effects of
that prolonged speed-up, he felt the fantastic reality of the universe. During
all this slow century of flight through space, the </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">Hope of Man</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> had
had the potential for this vastly greater velocity.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He visualized the acceleration series so expertly programmed by Dzing as
having achieved a shift to a new state of matter in motion. The "light
speed effect," the Karn robot had called it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"And Tellier missed it," he thought.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">All those experiments the physicist had performed so painstakingly, and
left a record of, had missed the great discovery.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Missed it! And so a shipload of human beings had wandered for
generations through the black deeps of interstellar space.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Across the room Browne was climbing groggily to his feet. He muttered,
"... Better get back to ... control chair."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had taken only a few uncertain steps when a realization seemed to
strike him. He looked up then, and stared wildly at Lesbee. "Oh!" he
said. The sound came from the gut level, a gasp of horrified understanding.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As he slapped a complex of tractor beams on Browne, Lesbee said,
"That's right, you're looking at your enemy. Better start talking. We
haven't much time."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne was pale now. But his mouth had been left free and so he was able
to say huskily, "I did what any lawful government does in an emergency. I
dealt with treason summarily, taking time only to find out what it consisted
of."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee had had another thought, this time about Miller on the bridge.
Hastily, he swung Browne over in front of him. "Hand me your
blaster," he said. "Stock first."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He freed the other's arm, so that he could reach into the holster and
take it out.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee felt a lot better when he had the weapon. But still another idea
had come to him.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">He said harshly, "I want to lift you over to the cage, and I don't
want First Officer Miller to interfere. Get that, </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">Mister </i><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Miller!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">There was no answer from the screen.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said uneasily, "Why over to the cage?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee did not answer right away. Silently he manipulated the tractor
beam control until Browne was in position. Having gotten him there, Lesbee
hesitated. What bothered him was, why had the Karn's thought impulses ceased?
He had an awful feeling that something was very wrong indeed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He gulped, and said, "Raise the lid!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Again, he freed Browne's arm. The big man reached over gingerly,
unfastened the catch, and then drew back and glanced questioningly at Lesbee.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Look inside!" Lesbee commanded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said scathingly, "You don't think for one second that—"
He stopped, for he was peering into the cage. He uttered a cry: "He's
gone!"</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56hXzSla1Q1KC_cCUjbO-rmxR-faCxL0odYZmetcfMBEbj4yF1wx5dEfQ1iOSYI_hm4T0CrT9OlHYPBSQPnX4s7GS4iCDs1jgxBcSNAq4IKsBq_HBom3VU74vMGUX9g7pPTIfHJQEzllRgLc72Y7QyIUumSAPxoZ2NCEHfIugMU3Kzhf7rcTsgszJIj8/s612/istockphoto-1035676256-612x612.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="612" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56hXzSla1Q1KC_cCUjbO-rmxR-faCxL0odYZmetcfMBEbj4yF1wx5dEfQ1iOSYI_hm4T0CrT9OlHYPBSQPnX4s7GS4iCDs1jgxBcSNAq4IKsBq_HBom3VU74vMGUX9g7pPTIfHJQEzllRgLc72Y7QyIUumSAPxoZ2NCEHfIugMU3Kzhf7rcTsgszJIj8/w640-h360/istockphoto-1035676256-612x612.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Istock.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">VI<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee discussed the disappearance with Browne.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was an abrupt decision on his part to do so. The question of where
Dzing might have got to was not something he should merely turn over in his own
head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He began by pointing at the dials from which the immense speed of the
ship could be computed, and then, when that meaning was absorbed by the older
man, said simply,</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"What happened? Where did he go? And how could we speed up to just
under 186,000 miles a second in so short a time?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had lowered the big man to the floor, and now he took some of the
tension from the tractor beam but did not release the power. Browne stood in
apparent deep thought.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Finally, he nodded. "All right," he said, "I know what
happened."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Tell me."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne changed the subject, said in a deliberate tone, "What are
you going to do with me?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee stared at him for a moment unbelievingly. "You're going to
withhold this information?" he demanded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne spread his hands. "What else can I do? Till I know my fate,
I have nothing to lose."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee suppressed a strong impulse to rush over and strike his prisoner.
He said finally,</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"In your judgment is this delay dangerous?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Browne was silent, but a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. "</span><span style="font-size: 13pt;">I </span><span style="font-size: 13pt;">have nothing to lose," he
repeated.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The expression in Lesbee's face must have alarmed him, for he went on
quickly, "Look, there's no need for you to conspire any more. What you
really want is to go home, isn't it? Don't you see, with this new method of
acceleration, we can make it to Earth in a few </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">months</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;">!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He stopped. He seemed momentarily uncertain.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee snapped angrily, "Who are you trying to fool? Months! We're
a dozen light years in actual distance from Earth. You mean years, not
months."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne hesitated then: "All right, a few years. But at least not a
lifetime. So if you'll promise not to scheme against me further, I'll
promise—"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">"</span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">You'll</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> promise!" Lesbee spoke savagely. He had
been taken aback by Browne's instant attempt at blackmail. But the momentary
sense of defeat was gone. He knew with a stubborn rage that he would stand for
no nonsense.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He said in an uncompromising voice, "Mister Browne, twenty seconds
after I stop speaking, you start talking. If you don't, I'll batter you against
these walls. I mean it!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne was pale. "Are you going to kill me? That's all I want to
know. Look—" his tone was urgent—"we don't have to fight any more. We
can go home. Don't you see? The long madness is just about over. Nobody has to
die."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Lesbee hesitated. What the big man said was at least partly true. There
was an attempt here to make twelve years sound like twelve days, or at most
twelve weeks. But the fact was, it </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">was</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> a short period compared
to the century-long journey which, at one time, had been the only possibility.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He thought: "Am I going to kill him?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was hard to believe that he would, under the circumstances. All
right. If not death, then what? He sat there uncertain. The vital seconds went
by, and he could see no solution. He thought finally, in desperation:
"I'll have to give in for the moment. Even a minute thinking about this is
absolutely crazy."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He said aloud in utter frustration, "I'll promise you this. If you
can figure out how I can feel safe in a ship commanded by you I'll give your
plan consideration. And now, mister, start talking."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne nodded. "I accept that promise," he said. "What
we've run into here is the Lorenz-Fitzgerald Contraction Theory. Only it's not
a theory any more. We're living the reality of it."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee argued, "But it only took us a few hours to get to the speed
of light."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said, "As we approach light speed, space foreshortens and
time compresses. What seemed like a few hours would be days in normal time and
space."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">What Browne explained then was different rather than difficult. Lesbee
had to blink his mind to shut out the glare of his old ideas and habits of
thought, so that the more subtle shades of super-speed phenomena could shine
through into his awareness.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The time compression—as Browne explained it—was gradational. The rapid
initial series of accelerations were obviously designed to pin down the
personnel of the ship. Subsequent increments would be according to what was
necessary to attain the ultra-speed finally achieved.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Since the drive was still on, it was clear that some resistance was
being encountered, perhaps from the fabric of space itself.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was no time to discuss technical details. Lesbee accepted the
remarkable reality and said quickly, "Yes, but where is Dzing?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"My guess," said Browne, "is that he did not come
along."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"How do you mean?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"The space-time foreshortening did not affect him."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"But—" Lesbee began blankly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Look," said Browne harshly, "don't ask me how he did it.
My picture is, he stayed in the cage till after the acceleration stopped. Then,
in a leisurely fashion, he released himself from the electrically locked
manacles, climbed out, and went off to some other part of the ship. He wouldn't
have to hurry since by this time he was operating at a rate of, say, five
hundred times faster than our living pace."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee said, "But that means he's been out there for hours—his
time. What's he been up to?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne admitted that he had no answer for that.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"But you can see," he pointed out anxiously, "that I
meant what I said about going back to Earth. We have no business in this part
of space. These beings are far ahead of us scientifically."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">His purpose was obviously to persuade. Lesbee thought: "He's back
to </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">our</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> fight. That's more important to him than any damage the
real enemy is causing."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A vague recollection came of the things he had read about the struggle
for power throughout Earth history. How men intrigued for supremacy while vast
hordes of the invader battered down the gates. Browne was a true spiritual
descendant of all those mad people.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Slowly, Lesbee turned and faced the big board. What was baffling to him
was, what could you do against a being who moved five hundred times as fast as
you did?</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">VII<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had a sudden sense of awe, a picture.... At any given instant Dzing
was a blur. A spot of light. A movement so rapid that, even as the gaze lighted
on him, he was gone to the other end of the ship—and back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Yet Lesbee knew it took time to traverse the great ship from end to end.
Twenty, even twenty-five minutes, was normal walking time for a human being
going along the corridor known as Center A.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It would take the Karn a full six seconds there and back. In its way
that was a significant span of time, but after Lesbee had considered it for a
moment he felt appalled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">What could they do against a creature who had so great a time
differential in his favor?</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">From behind him, Browne said, "Why don't you use against him that
remote landing control system that you set up with my permission?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee confessed: "I did that, as soon as the acceleration ceased.
But he must have been—back—in the faster time by then."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"That wouldn't make any difference," said Browne.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Eh!" Lesbee was startled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne parted his lips evidently intending to explain, and then he
closed them again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Finally he said, "Make sure the intercom is off."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee did so. But he was realizing that Browne was up to something
again. He said, and there was rage in his tone, "I don't get it, and you
do. Is that right."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Yes," said Browne. He spoke deliberately, but he was visibly
suppressing excitement. "I know how to defeat this creature. That puts me
in a bargaining position."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee's eyes were narrowed to slits. "Damn you, no bargain. Tell
me, or else!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said, "I'm not really trying to be difficult. You either
have to kill me, or come to some agreement. I want to know what that agreement
is, because of course I'll do it."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee said, "I think we ought to have an election."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"I agree!" Browne spoke instantly. "You set it up."
He broke off. "And now release me from these tractors and I'll show you
the neatest space-time trick you've ever seen, and that'll be the end of
Dzing."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee gazed at the man's face, saw there the same openness of
countenance, the same frank honest that had preceded the execution order, and
he thought, "What can he do?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">He considered many possibilities, and thought finally, desperately:
"He's got the advantage over me of superior knowledge—the most
undefeatable weapon in the world. The only thing I can really hope to use
against it in the final issue is </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">my</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> knowledge of a multitude
of technician-level details."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">But—what could Browne do against Lesbee?</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He said unhappily to the other, "Before I free you, I want to lift
you over to Mindel. When I do, you get his blaster for me."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Sure," said Browne casually.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A few moments later he handed Mindel's gun over to Lesbee. So that
wasn't it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee thought: "There's Miller on the bridge—can it be that Miller
flashed him a ready signal when my back was turned to the board?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Perhaps, like Browne, Miller had been temporarily incapacitated during
the period of acceleration. It was vital that he find out Miller's present
capability.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee tripped the intercom between the two boards. The rugged, lined
face of the first officer showed large on the screen. Lesbee could see the
outlines of the bridge behind the man and, beyond, the starry blackness of
space. Lesbee said courteously, "Mr. Miller, how did you make out during
the acceleration?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"It caught me by surprise, Captain. I really got a battering. I
think I was out for a while. But I'm all right now."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Good," said Lesbee. "As you probably heard, Captain
Browne and I have come to an agreement, and we are now going to destroy the
creature that is loose on the ship. Stand by!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Cynically, he broke the connection.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Miller was there all right, waiting. But the question was still, what
could Miller do? The answer of course was that Miller could pre-empt.
And—Lesbee asked himself—what could </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">that</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> do?</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Abruptly, it seemed to him, he had the answer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was the technician's answer that he had been mentally straining for.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He now understood Browne's plan. They were waiting for Lesbee to let
down his guard for a moment. Then Miller would pre-empt, cut off the tractor
beam from Browne and seize Lesbee with it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">For the two officers it was vital that Lesbee not have time to fire the
blaster at Browne. Lesbee thought: "It's the only thing they can be
worried about. The truth is, there's nothing else to stop them."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The solution was, Lesbee realized with a savage glee, to let the two men
achieve their desire. But first—</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkR1a8YqIYQ6DXCFtvS-GHXnlnFCRNUm0k0RqbYbGO1pVT6EdOMJ0QHAbWMJNYlLe_dp4cQGrtgNLZ4GzGSSoHAW4IVv5RtfN5yla4NDsqPIcAdl2_uOrGLwEecBG2PZmi-VsUQ14rPhqHmWakBmHweLwSCtNR7UJ_O8YwW3rff8qMpMK25WuZCgMZfY/s1245/47945fb888bc4101029b0decacb50832-700.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="1245" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkR1a8YqIYQ6DXCFtvS-GHXnlnFCRNUm0k0RqbYbGO1pVT6EdOMJ0QHAbWMJNYlLe_dp4cQGrtgNLZ4GzGSSoHAW4IVv5RtfN5yla4NDsqPIcAdl2_uOrGLwEecBG2PZmi-VsUQ14rPhqHmWakBmHweLwSCtNR7UJ_O8YwW3rff8qMpMK25WuZCgMZfY/w400-h225/47945fb888bc4101029b0decacb50832-700.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Mr. Browne," he said quietly, "I think you should give
your information. If I agree that it is indeed the correct solution, I shall
release you and we shall have an election. You and I will stay right here till
the election is over."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said, "I accept your promise. The speed of light is a
constant, and does not change in relation to moving objects. That would also
apply to electromagnetic fields."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee said, "Then Dzing was affected by the remote-control device
I turned on."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Instantly," said Browne. "He never got a chance to do
anything. How much power did you use?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Only first stage," said Lesbee. "But the machine-driven
thought pulses in that would interfere with just about every magnetic field in
his body. He couldn't do another coherent thing."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne said in a hushed tone, "It's got to be. He'll be out of
control in one of the corridors, completely at our mercy." He grinned.
"I told you I knew how to defeat him—because, of course, he was already
defeated."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee considered that for a long moment, eyes narrowed. He realized
that he accepted the explanation, but that he had preparations to make, and
quickly—before Browne got suspicious of his delay.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He turned to the board and switched on the intercom. "People,"
he said, "strap yourselves in again. Help those who were injured to do the
same. We may have another emergency. You have several minutes, I think, but
don't waste any of them."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He cut off the intercom, and he activated the closed-circuit intercom of
the technical stations. He said urgently, "Special instruction to
Technical personnel. Report anything unusual, particularly if strange thought
forms are going through your mind."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had an answer to that within moments after he finished speaking. A
man's twangy voice came over: "I keep thinking I'm somebody named Dzing,
and I'm trying to report to my owners. Boy, am I incoherent!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Where is this?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"D—4—19."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee punched the buttons that gave them a TV view of that particular
ship location.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Almost immediately he spotted a shimmer near the floor.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">After a moment's survey he ordered a heavy-duty mobile blaster brought
to the corridor.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">By the time its colossal energies ceased, Dzing was only a darkened area
on the flat surface.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">While these events were progressing, Lesbee had kept one eye on Browne
and Mindel's blaster firmly gripped in his left hand. Now he said, "Well,
sir, you certainly did what you promised. Wait a moment while I put this gun
away, and then I'll carry out my part of the bargain."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He started to do so, then, out of pity, paused.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had been thinking in the back of his mind about what Browne had said
earlier: that the trip to Earth might only take a few months. The officer had
backed away from that statement, but it had been bothering Lesbee ever since.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">If it were true, then it was indeed a fact that nobody need die!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He said quickly, "What was your reason for saying that the journey
home would only take—well—less than a year?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"It's the tremendous time compression," Browne explained
eagerly. "The distance as you pointed out is over 12 light-years. But with
a time ratio of 3, 4, or 500 to one, we'll make it in less than a month. When I
first started to say that, I could see that the figures were incomprehensible
to you in your tense mood. In fact, I could scarcely believe them myself."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee said, staggered, "We can get back to Earth in a couple of
weeks—my God!" He broke off, said urgently, "Look, I accept you as
commander. We don't need an election. The status quo is good enough for any
short period of time. Do you agree?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Of course," said Browne. "That's the point I've been
trying to make."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">As he spoke, his face was utterly guileless.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee gazed at that mask of innocence, and he thought hopelessly:
"What's wrong? Why isn't he really agreeing? Is it because he doesn't want
to lose his command so quickly?"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Sitting there, unhappily fighting for the other's life, he tried to
place himself mentally in the position of the commander of a vessel, tried to
look at the prospect of a return to view. It was hard to picture such a
reality. But presently it seemed to him that he understood.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He said gently, feeling his way, "It would be kind of a shame to
return without having made a successful landing anywhere. With this new speed,
we could visit a dozen sun systems, and still get home in a year."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The look that came into Browne's face for a fleeting moment told Lesbee
that he had penetrated to the thought in the man's mind.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The next instant, Browne was shaking his head vigorously. "This is
no time for side excursions," he said. "We'll leave explorations of
new star systems to future expeditions. The people of this ship have served
their term. We go straight home."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne's face was now completely relaxed. His blue eyes shone with truth
and sincerity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">There was nothing further that Lesbee could say. The gulf between Browne
and himself could not be bridged.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The commander had to kill his rival, so that he might finally return to
Earth and report that the mission of the </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">Hope of Man</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> was
accomplished.</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">VIII<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p>I</o:p></span><span style="font-size: 13pt;">n the most deliberate fashion Lesbee shoved the blaster into the inner
pocket of his coat.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then, as if he were being careful, he used the tractor beam to push
Browne about four feet away. There he set him down, released him from the beam,
and—with the same deliberateness—drew his hand away from the tractor controls.
Thus he made himself completely defenseless.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was the moment of vulnerability.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne leaped at him, yelling: "Miller—pre-empt!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">First Officer Miller obeyed the command of his captain.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">What happened then, only Lesbee, the technician with a thousand bits of
detailed knowledge, expected.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">For years it had been observed that when Control Room Below took over
from Bridge, the ship speeded up slightly. And when Bridge took over from
Control Room Below, the ship slowed instantly by the same amount—in each
instance, something less than half a mile an hour.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The two boards were not completely synchronized. The technicians often
joked about it, and Lesbee had once read an obscure technical explanation for
the discrepancy. It had to do with the impossibility of ever getting two metals
refined to the same precision of internal structure.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was the age-old story of no two objects in the universe are alike.
But in times past, the differential had meant nothing. It was a technical
curiosity, an interesting phenomenon of the science of metallurgy, a practical
problem that caused machinists to curse good-naturedly when technicians like
Lesbee required them to make a replacement part.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Unfortunately for Browne, the ship was now traveling near the speed of
light.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His strong hands, reaching towards Lesbee's slighter body, were actually
touching the latter's arm when the momentary deceleration occurred as Bridge
took over. The sudden slow-down was at a much faster rate than even Lesbee
expected. The resistance of space to the forward movement of the ship must be
using up more engine power than he had realized; it was taking a lot of thrust
to maintain a one gravity acceleration.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The great vessel slowed about 150 miles per hour in the space of a
second.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9T3v3LHqwSGpRzaLkDPaHjH_i1cRONCX_e2n4cyMfMAyhCjkcr2KlTKY3hcmz24TFCFJYrmw10TFcn2LSvoP83H3OfUQ7KsO0acHFRWV168Q0OF1MaDNFBI1CF4A9Umrh3MIqC6cZs6eTTKYzlH8uXdeCAo02wp3kfMu4oo8izINzJ-qAqvLFo7A0R4/s265/images.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="265" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9T3v3LHqwSGpRzaLkDPaHjH_i1cRONCX_e2n4cyMfMAyhCjkcr2KlTKY3hcmz24TFCFJYrmw10TFcn2LSvoP83H3OfUQ7KsO0acHFRWV168Q0OF1MaDNFBI1CF4A9Umrh3MIqC6cZs6eTTKYzlH8uXdeCAo02wp3kfMu4oo8izINzJ-qAqvLFo7A0R4/w400-h287/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic SF author A.E. van Vogt.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Lesbee took the blow of that deceleration partly against his back,
partly against one side—for he had half-turned to defend himself from the
bigger man's attack.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Browne, who had nothing to grab on to, was flung forward at the full 150
miles per hour.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">He struck the control board with an audible thud, stuck to it as if he
were glued there; and then, when the adjustment was over—when the </span><i style="font-size: 13pt;">Hope
of Man</i><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> was again speeding along at one gravity—his body slid down the
face of the board, and crumpled into a twisted position on the rubberized dais.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His uniform was discolored. As Lesbee watched, blood seeped through and
dripped to the floor.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Are you going to hold an election?" Tellier asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The big ship had turned back under Lesbee's command, and had picked up
his friends.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The lifeboat itself, with the remaining Karn still aboard, was put into
an orbit around Alta III and abandoned. The two young men were sitting now in
the Captain's cabin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">After the question was asked, Lesbee leaned back in his chair, and
closed his eyes. He didn't need to examine his total resistance to the
suggestion. He had already savored the feeling that command brought.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Almost from the moment of Browne's death, he had observed himself having
the same thoughts that Browne had voiced—among many others, the reasons why
elections were not advisable aboard a spaceship. He waited now while Eleesa,
one of his three wives—she being the younger of the two young widows of
Browne—poured wine for them, and went softly out. Then he laughed grimly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"My good friend," he said, "we're all lucky that time is
so compressed at the speed of light. At 500-times compression, any further
exploration we do will require only a few months, or years at most. And so I
don't think we can afford to take the chance of defeating at an election the
only person who understands the details of the new acceleration method. Until I
decide exactly how much exploration we shall do, I shall keep our speed
capabilities a secret. But I did, and do, think one other person should know
where I have this information documented. Naturally, I selected First Officer
Tellier."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Thank you, sir," the youth said. But he was visibly
thoughtful as he sipped his wine. He went on finally, "Captain, I think
you'd feel a lot better if you held an election. I'm sure you could win
it."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lesbee laughed tolerantly, shook his head. "I'm afraid you don't
understand the dynamics of government," he said. "There's no record
in history of a person who actually had control, handing it over."</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He finished with the casual confidence of absolute power. "I'm not
going to be presumptuous enough to fight a precedent like that!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">THE END<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1foOccuggfAM5XIWOFsr9-alb2bNbSHdVRs3DbMdZ5amsFUYd2svGsR2mM9QY5SIjzPJM_MnzksEQKB_zeh2-KRxTh3RyrlFkSOOZFjsGCDQykrt4hA2p-BV2ep3988hsIh1VJTjgLaQrfQREw8J2rOMKsPV4PsahHsdKvjPHZ_yEmAA9HaAXnknj9UM/s1920/ellen-ripley-of-alien-movie-ev0bqxf0cqxhtaic.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1920" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1foOccuggfAM5XIWOFsr9-alb2bNbSHdVRs3DbMdZ5amsFUYd2svGsR2mM9QY5SIjzPJM_MnzksEQKB_zeh2-KRxTh3RyrlFkSOOZFjsGCDQykrt4hA2p-BV2ep3988hsIh1VJTjgLaQrfQREw8J2rOMKsPV4PsahHsdKvjPHZ_yEmAA9HaAXnknj9UM/w400-h250/ellen-ripley-of-alien-movie-ev0bqxf0cqxhtaic.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow. That was scary, eh, boys and girls.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" target="_blank">art on ArtPal.</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Check
out this </span><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" style="font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">free audiobook, <i>One Million
Words of Crap,</i></a><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> available from Google Play.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Louis
has books and stories, as well as paperbacks </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Books-Louis-Shalako/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ALouis+Shalako" style="font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank">available from Amazon.</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Thank
you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-25714926042199153312023-12-26T14:41:00.003-05:002023-12-26T14:42:26.824-05:00The Shipshape Miracle. Clifford D. Simak.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJIb7E3a3qEiLb8N7u3yajxd_JcykxNJhhdfb3LsN7IOSScLFqNdpgs4h3vB3bedWpAIMyeojJTPOiof3RosjimTAuZlffN9FVmRimEqSQJWy8q8i_Ph_JOR_UyZM_PQwnyk_50-KBNYy0fBzh7NhoxjZ0NkYH06jrohWXF5MKvpInFsIje5u5EJi2ts/s1162/r6c1mhnt3ks31.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="1162" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJIb7E3a3qEiLb8N7u3yajxd_JcykxNJhhdfb3LsN7IOSScLFqNdpgs4h3vB3bedWpAIMyeojJTPOiof3RosjimTAuZlffN9FVmRimEqSQJWy8q8i_Ph_JOR_UyZM_PQwnyk_50-KBNYy0fBzh7NhoxjZ0NkYH06jrohWXF5MKvpInFsIje5u5EJi2ts/w640-h302/r6c1mhnt3ks31.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That is one cool ship.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Clifford D. Simak</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The castaway was a wanted man—but he </span></span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">didn't know how badly he was wanted!<br /></span></span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></o:p></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">If Cheviot
Sherwood ever had believed in miracles, he believed in them no longer. He had
no illusions now. He knew exactly what he faced.</span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His life
would come to an end on this uninhabited backwoods planet and there'd be none
to mourn him, none to know. Not, he thought, that there would be any mourners,
under any circumstance. Although there were those who would be glad to see him,
who would come running if they knew where he might be found. </span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">These were
people, very definitely, that Sherwood had no desire to see. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">His great,
one might say his overwhelming, desire not to see them could account in part
for his present situation, since he had taken off from the last planet of
record without filing flight plans and lacking clearance.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Since no one
knew where he might have headed and since his radio was junk, there was no
likelihood at all that anyone would find him—even if they looked, which would
be a matter of some doubt. Probably the most that anyone would do would be to
send out messages to other planets to place authorities on the alert for him.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">And since his spaceship, for the lack
of a certain valve for which he had no replacement, was not going anywhere, he
was stuck here on this planet.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">If that had been all there had been to
it, it might not have been so bad. But there was a final irony that under other
circumstances (if it had been happening to someone else, let's say), would have
kept Sherwood in stitches of forthright merriment for hours on end at the very
thought of it. But since he was the one involved, there was no merriment.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">For now, when he could gain no benefit,
he was potentially rich beyond even his own most greedy and most lurid dreams.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">On the ridge above the camp he'd get up
beside his crippled spaceship lay a strip of clay-cemented conglomerate that
fairly reeked with diamonds. They lay scattered on the hillside, washed out by
the weather; they were mixed liberally in the gravel of the tiny stream that
wended through the valley. They could be picked up by the basket. They were of
high quality; there were several, the size of human skulls, that probably were
priceless.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Sherwood was of a hardy, rough and
tumble breed. Once he became convinced of his situation he made the best of it.
He made his camp into a home and laid in supplies—digging roots, gathering
nuts, drying fish and making pemmican. If he was to be cast in the role of a
Robinson Crusoe, he proposed to be at least comfortably well fed.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">In his spare time he gathered diamonds,
dumping them in a pile outside his shack. And in the idle afternoons or the
long evenings, he sat beside his campfire and sorted them out—washing them free
of clinging dirt and grading them according to their size and brilliance. The
very best of them he put into a sack, designed for easy grabbing if the time
should ever come when he might depart the planet.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Not that he had any hope this would
come about.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Even so, he was a man who planned
against contingencies. He always tried to have some sort of loop-hole. Had this
not been the case, his career would have ended long before, at any one of a
dozen times or places. That it apparently had come to an end now could be
attributed to a certain lack of foresight in not carrying a full complement of
spare parts. Although perhaps this was understandable, since never before in
the history of space flight had that particular valve which now spelled out
Sherwood's doom ever misbehaved.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Perhaps it was well for him that he was
not an introspective man. If he had been given to much searching thought, he
might have found himself living with his past, and there were places in his
past that were far from pretty.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He was lucky in many other ways, of
course. The planet was not a bad one, a sort of New England planet with a
rocky, tumbled terrain, forested by scrubby trees and distinctly terrestrial. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He might just as easily have been marooned upon a jungle planet or one of the
icy planets or any of another dozen different kinds that were not tolerant of
life. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">So he settled in and made the best of
it and didn't even bother to count off the days. For he knew what he was in
for.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He counted on no miracle.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The miracle he had not counted on came
late one afternoon as he sat, cross-legged, sorting out his latest haul of
priceless diamonds.</span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">The great black ship came in from the
east across the rolling hills. It whistled down across the ridges and settled
to the ground a short distance from Sherwood's crippled ship and his
patched-together shack.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">It was no patrol vessel, although in
his position, Sherwood would have welcomed even one of these. It was a kind of
ship he'd never seen before. It was globular and black and it had no
identifying marks on it.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He leaped to his feet and ran toward
the ship. He waved his arms in welcome and whooped with his delight. He stopped
a hundred feet away when he felt the first whiff of the heat that had been
picked up by the vessel's hull in its plunge through atmosphere.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Hey, in there!" he yelled.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">And the Ship spoke to him. "You
need not yell," it told him. "I can hear you very well."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Who are you?" asked
Sherwood.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"I am the Ship," the voice
told him.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Quit fooling around," yelled
Sherwood, "and tell me who you are."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">For the sort of answer it had given was
foolishness. Of course it was the ship. It was someone in the ship, talking to
him through a speaker in the hull.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"I have told you," said the
Ship. "I am the Ship."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"But there is someone speaking to
me."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"The ship is speaking to
you."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"All right, then," said
Sherwood. "If you want it that way, it's okay with me. Can you take me out
of here? My radio is broken and my ship disabled."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Perhaps I can," said the
Ship. "Tell me who you are."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Sherwood hesitated for a moment, and
then he told who he was, quite truthfully. For it suddenly had occurred to him that
this ship was as much an outlaw as he was himself. It had no markings and all
ships must have markings.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You say you left your last port
without proper clearance?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Yes," said Sherwood.
"There were certain circumstances."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"And no one knows where you are?
No one's looking for you?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"How could they?" Sherwood
asked.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Where do you want to go?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Just anywhere," said
Sherwood. "I have no preference."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYHnPnx2JF59-izX4LBkM6C5MqMkK-et_jvXlar76rCckb27E4U4jo8pU556KaxlR3W89Pa2p3ydqFwJIBoA4gfd9fqVYWjMRXgunxXr5I7bLbmxxSzvF4VZl9Il3mFBRgZMEN0ek_GRaablHC5WgoT6V0wZeJEdIsqV4Ncqxox3x1mMqZ04t1-_BrSfo/s1920/717756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYHnPnx2JF59-izX4LBkM6C5MqMkK-et_jvXlar76rCckb27E4U4jo8pU556KaxlR3W89Pa2p3ydqFwJIBoA4gfd9fqVYWjMRXgunxXr5I7bLbmxxSzvF4VZl9Il3mFBRgZMEN0ek_GRaablHC5WgoT6V0wZeJEdIsqV4Ncqxox3x1mMqZ04t1-_BrSfo/w640-h400/717756.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, let's get out of here.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">For even if they should land him
somewhere where he had no wish to be, he still would have a running chance. On
this planet he had no chance at all.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"All right," said the ship.
"You can come aboard."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">A hatch came open in the hull and a
ladder began running out.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Just a second," Sherwood
shouted. "I'll be right there."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He sprinted to the shack and grabbed
his sack of the finest diamonds, then legged it for the ship. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He got there
almost as soon as the ladder touched the ground. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">The hull still was crackling with
warmth, but Sherwood swarmed up the ladder, paying no attention.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He was set for life, he thought. Unless—</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">And then the thought struck him that
they might take the diamonds from him. They could pretend it was payment for
his passage. Or they could simply take them without an excuse of any sort at
all.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">But it was too late now. He was almost
in the hatch. To drop the sack of diamonds now would do no more than arouse
suspicion and would gain him nothing.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">It came of greediness, he thought. He
did not need this many diamonds. Just a half dozen of the finest dropped into
his pockets would have been enough. Enough to buy him another ship so he could
return and get a load of them.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">But he was committed now. There was
nothing he could do except to see it through.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He reached the hatch and tumbled
through it. There was no one waiting. The inner lock stood open and there was
no one there.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He stopped to stare at the emptiness
and behind him the retracting ladder rumbled softly and the hatch hissed to a
close.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Hey," he shouted,
"where is everyone?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"There is no one here," the
voice said, "but me."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"All right," said Sherwood.
"Where do I go to find you?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You have found me," said the
Ship. "You are standing in me."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You mean...."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"I told you," said the Ship.
"I said I was the Ship. That is what I am."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"But no one...."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You do not understand," said
the Ship. "There is no need of anyone. I am myself. I am intelligent. I am
part machine, part human. Rather, perhaps, at one time I was. I have thought,
in recent years, the two of us have merged so we're neither human nor machine,
but something new entirely."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You're kidding me," said
Sherwood, beginning to get frightened. "There can't be such a thing."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Consider," said the Ship,
"a certain human who had worked for years to build me and who, as he
finished me, found death was closing in...."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Let me out!" yelled
Sherwood. "Let me out of here! I don't want to be rescued. I don't
want...."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"I'm afraid, Mr. Sherwood, it is
rather late for that. We're already out in space."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Out in space! We can't be! It
isn't possible!"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Of course it is," the Ship
told him. "You expected thrust. There was no thrust. We simply
lifted."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwUxW_FG2TToCh6O05UGBtm0nRgrTBFyrbKPU8n2AymzBqcZcsuVbYQ-dOcDEvuIjLyDs-rS9hP_YvvJH_kN-B5pno_De1TO69_QZXeBNq5ryrLikB0QSVaAoia6jKm2qVWRNx9zcyWc5DOAIkEFELoNmMMTn9xQV7SMHJ_6Sbujj0x7iAUVZb2ImVZU/s534/360_F_551744726_iwKjCX93TVRlLcDVHNlpqe8dzdr6afVq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="534" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwUxW_FG2TToCh6O05UGBtm0nRgrTBFyrbKPU8n2AymzBqcZcsuVbYQ-dOcDEvuIjLyDs-rS9hP_YvvJH_kN-B5pno_De1TO69_QZXeBNq5ryrLikB0QSVaAoia6jKm2qVWRNx9zcyWc5DOAIkEFELoNmMMTn9xQV7SMHJ_6Sbujj0x7iAUVZb2ImVZU/w640-h432/360_F_551744726_iwKjCX93TVRlLcDVHNlpqe8dzdr6afVq.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The typical ship's interior...</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">"No ship," insisted Sherwood,
"can get off a planet...."</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You're thinking, Mr. Sherwood, of
the ships built by human hands. Not of a living ship. Not of an intelligent
machine. Not of what becomes possible with the merging of a man and a
machine."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You mean you built
yourself?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Of course not. Not to start with.
I was built by human hands to start with. But I've redesigned myself and
rebuilt myself, not once, but many times. I knew my capabilities. I knew my
dreams and wishes. I made myself the kind of thing I was capable of being—not
the halfway, makeshift thing that was the best the human race could do."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"The man you spoke of,"
Sherwood said. "The one who was about to die...."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"He is part of me," said the
Ship. "If you must think of him as a separate entity, he, then, is talking
to you. For when I say 'I', I mean both of us, for we've become as one."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"I don't get it," Sherwood
told the Ship, feeling the panic coming back again.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"He built me, long ago, as a ship
which would respond, not to the pushing of a lever or the pressing of a button,
but to the mental commands of the man who drove me. I was to become, in effect,
an extension of that man. There was a helmet that the man would wear and he'd
think into the helmet."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"I understand," said
Sherwood.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"He'd think into the helmet and I
was so programmed that I'd obey his thoughts. I became, in effect, a man, and
the man became in effect the ship he operated."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Nice deal," Sherwood said
enthusiastically, never being one upon whom the niceties of certain advantages
were ever lost.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"He finished me and he was about
to die and it was a pity that such a one should die—one who had worked so hard
to do what he had done. Who'd given up so much. Who never had seen space. Who
had gone nowhere."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"No," said Sherwood, in
revulsion, knowing what was coming. "No, he'd not done that."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"It was a kindness," said the
ship. "It was what he wanted. He managed it himself. He simply gave up his
body. His body was a worthless hulk that was about to die. The modifications to
accommodate a human brain rather than a human skull were quite elementary. And
he has been happy. We have both of us been happy."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Sherwood stood without saying anything.
In the silence he was listening for some sound, for any kind of tiny rattle or
hum, for anything at all to tell him the ship was operating. But there was no
sound and no sense of motion of any sort.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Happy," he said. "Where
would you have found happiness? What's the point of all this?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"That," the Ship said
solemnly, "is a bit hard to explain."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Sherwood stood and thought about it—the
endless voyaging through space without a body—with all the desires, all the
advantages, all the capabilities of a body gone forever.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"There is nothing for you to
fear," said the Ship. "You need not concern yourself. We have a cabin
for you. Just down the corridor, the first door to your left."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"I thank you," Sherwood said,
although he was nervous still.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">If he had had a choice, he told
himself, he'd stayed back on the planet. But since he was here, he'd have to
make the best of it. And there were, he admitted to himself, certain advantages
and certain possibilities that needed further thought.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He went down the corridor and pushed on
the door. It opened on the cabin. For a spaceship it looked comfortable enough.
A little cramped, of course, but then all cabins were. Space is at a premium on
any sort of ship.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrq3kq8z7qWf2WXfa-bb5kom3ptsnrVrGmFKxGoXKOLTJuKXOiDh_GbBJ1D2JvLo9H-gXLV3dMAfkivd8w88RaDChEaGWgFYDUat5_Wgnx9losJQJO9z8zfx_O1aJMJmNCZTy-n9wC2fQGAZt7Y4BarvhNPTGID8McU60q6ydbQxizdghBlEwE7Oqp_qk/s540/360_F_407910243_kzjPQ2ng6yxbzgpsIsidKiwKDUef7hni.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="540" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrq3kq8z7qWf2WXfa-bb5kom3ptsnrVrGmFKxGoXKOLTJuKXOiDh_GbBJ1D2JvLo9H-gXLV3dMAfkivd8w88RaDChEaGWgFYDUat5_Wgnx9losJQJO9z8zfx_O1aJMJmNCZTy-n9wC2fQGAZt7Y4BarvhNPTGID8McU60q6ydbQxizdghBlEwE7Oqp_qk/w400-h266/360_F_407910243_kzjPQ2ng6yxbzgpsIsidKiwKDUef7hni.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That is one nice rock...</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He went in and placed his sack of
diamonds on the bunk that hinged out from the wall. He sat down in the single
metal chair that stood beside the bunk. </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Are you comfortable, Mr.
Sherwood?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Very comfortable," he said.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">It was going to be all right, he told
himself. A very crazy setup, but it would be all right. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Perhaps a little spooky
and a bit hard to believe, but probably better, after all, than staying
marooned, back there on the planet. For this would not last forever. And the
planet could have been, most probably would have been, forever. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">It would take a while to reach another
planet, for space was rather sparsely populated in this area. There would be
time to think and plan. He might be able to work out something that would be to
his great advantage.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He leaned back in the chair and
stretched out his legs. His brain began to click in a ceaseless scurrying back
and forth, nosing from every angle all the possibilities that existed in this
setup.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">It was nice, he thought—this entire
operation. The Ship undoubtedly had figured out some angles for itself which no
human yet had thought of.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">There were a lot of things to do. He'd
have to learn the capabilities of the Ship and give close study to its
personality, seeking out its weak points and its strength. Then he'd have to
plan his strategy and be careful not to give away his thinking. He must not
move until he was entirely ready.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">There might be many ways to do it.
There might be flattery or there might be a business proposition or there might
be blackmail. He'd have to think on it and study and follow out the line of
action that seemed to be the best.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He wondered at the Ship's means of
operation. Anti-gravity, perhaps, so far considered as a source of power.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He got up from the chair and paced,
three paces across the room. Or a fusion chamber. Or perhaps some method which
had not been and back, restlessly pondering odds.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Yes, he thought, it would be a nice
kind of ship to have. More than likely there was nothing in all of space that
could touch it in speed and maneuverability. Nothing that could overhaul it
should he ever have to run. It could apparently set down anywhere. It was
probably self-repairing, for the Ship had spoken of redesigning and of
rebuilding itself. With the memory of his recent situation still fresh inside
his mind, this was comforting.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">There must be a way to get the Ship, he
told himself. There had to be a way to get it. It was something that he needed.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He could buy another ship, of course;
with the diamonds in the sacking he could buy a fleet of ships. But this was
the one he wanted.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Maybe it had been pure luck this Ship
had picked him up. For any other legal ship would probably turn him over to the
authorities at its next port of call, but this Ship didn't seem to mind who he
was or what his record might be. Any other ship that was not entirely legal
would have grabbed off, not only the diamonds that he had but his discovery of
the diamond field. But this particular Ship had no concern with diamonds. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">What a setup, he thought. A human brain
and a spaceship tied together, so closely tied together that their identities
had merged. He shivered at the thought of it, for it was a gruesome thing.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Although perhaps it had not meant too
much to that old man who was about to die. He had traded an aged and
death-marked body for many years of life. Perhaps life as a part of a
space-traveling machine was better than no life at all.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">How many years, he wondered, had it
been since that old man had translated himself into something else than human?
A hundred? Five hundred? Perhaps even more than that.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">In those years where had he been and
what might he have seen? And, most pertinent of all, what thoughts had run
through and congealed and formed within his mind? What was life like for him?
Not a human sort of life, of course, not a human viewpoint, but something else
entirely.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Sherwood tried to imagine what it might
be like, but gave up in dismay. It would necessarily be a negation of
everything he lived for—all the sensual pleasure, all the dreams of gain and
glory, all the neat behavior patterns he had set up for himself, all his
self-made rules of conduct and of conscience.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRihSDDh1lt1O4fTtHgAG3gTNdfWS-lefWrvsTEtcxFEcOPHjsms_m_6D9zom8h054wt4g3GbVpHnuXmfPVLlwb-2TAeDnLdBqNRr0FAJebifvWnkIoeVxM2iQ1kuEsHRlGSEV52BbxjJL1vBwkgYvWmBV2_lcAbLyad_RDPk7Xsq90-nSXyuqnui0mAc/s849/360_F_498641728_eKk5sd3SLDF6JKNjHBavaFTbSKnOZ9fy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="849" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRihSDDh1lt1O4fTtHgAG3gTNdfWS-lefWrvsTEtcxFEcOPHjsms_m_6D9zom8h054wt4g3GbVpHnuXmfPVLlwb-2TAeDnLdBqNRr0FAJebifvWnkIoeVxM2iQ1kuEsHRlGSEV52BbxjJL1vBwkgYvWmBV2_lcAbLyad_RDPk7Xsq90-nSXyuqnui0mAc/w640-h272/360_F_498641728_eKk5sd3SLDF6JKNjHBavaFTbSKnOZ9fy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a miracle.</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">A miracle, he thought. As a matter of
fact, there'd been two miracles. The first had been when he had been able to
set his ship down without a crackup when the valve had failed. He had come in
close above the planet's surface to find a place to land—and suddenly the valve
went out and the engine failed and there he'd been, plunging down above the
rough terrain. Then suddenly he had glimpsed a place where a landing might be
just barely possible and had fought the controls madly to hit that certain spot
and finally had hit it—alive.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">It had been a miracle that he had made
the landing; and the coming of the Ship to rescue him had been the second
miracle.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">The bunk dropped down flat against the
wall and his sack of diamonds was dumped onto the floor.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Hey, what goes on?" yelled
Sherwood. Then he wished he had not yelled, for it was quite clear exactly what
had happened. The support that held the bunk had not been snapped properly into
place and had given way, letting down the bunk.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Something wrong, Mr.
Sherwood?" asked the Ship.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"No, not a thing," said
Sherwood. "My bunk fell down. I guess it startled me."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He bent down to pick up the diamonds.
As he did, the chair quietly and efficiently slid back against the wall, folded
itself up and slid into a slight depression that exactly fitted it.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Squatted to pick up the diamonds,
Sherwood watched the chair in horrified fascination, then swiftly spun around.
The bunk no longer hung against the wall, also had fitted itself into another
niche.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">Cold fear speared into Sherwood. He
rose swiftly to his feet, turning like a man at bay. He stood in a bare
cubicle. With both the bunk and chair retracted, he stood within four bare
walls.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He sprang toward the door and there
wasn't any door. There was only wall.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">He staggered back into the center of
the cubicle and spun around to view each wall in turn. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">There was no door in any
of the walls. The metal went up from floor to ceiling without a single break. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">The walls began to move, closing in on
him, sliding in, retracting.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">He watched, incredulous, frozen, thinking
that perhaps he'd imagined the moving of the walls. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">But it was not imagination. Slowly,
inexorably, the walls were closing in. Had he put out his arms, he could have
touched them on either side of him.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Ship!" he said, fighting to
keep his voice calm.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Yes, Mr. Sherwood."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"You are malfunctioning. The walls
are closing in."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"No," said the Ship. "No
malfunction, I assure you. A very proper function. My brain grows tired and
feeble. It is not the body only—the brain also has its limits. I suspected that
it might, but I could not know. There was a chance, of course, that separated
from the poison of a body, it might live in its bath of nutrients
forever."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"No!" rasped Sherwood, his
breath strangling in his throat. "No, not me!"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Who else?" asked the Ship. "I
have searched for years and you are the first who fitted."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Fitted!" Sherwood screamed.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Why, of course," the Ship
said calmly, happily. "A man who would not be missed. No one knowing where
you were. No one hunting for you. No one who will miss you. I had hunted for
someone like you and had despaired of finding one. For I am humane. I would
cause no one grief or sadness."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">The walls kept closing in.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">The Ship seemed to sigh in metallic
contentment.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 13pt;">"Believe me, Mr. Sherwood,"
it said, "finding you was a very miracle."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></o:p></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">END<br /></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></o:p></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span></o:p></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Louis
Shalako has <a href="https://books.apple.com/ca/author/louis-shalako/id709949458" target="_blank">books and stories available from iTunes.</a><br /></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Grab a free
audiobook, <i><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank">One Million Words of Crap,</a></i> here on Google Play.<br /></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">See <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" target="_blank">hisworks on Fine Art America.</a><br /></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Check out
<a href="https://superdough.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">the #superdough blog.</a><br /></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrpFR2X00sazmCGZsDz5h_ETzJB2MKGr2Mf82AXf8U4NebhTbEzu6nTbs_z6g9lGkfTF2hwPaxg2ad33lApJtIg1sl3pYz3LE2cM35flOJKtYN33raHkVZIYr7E67M7ow48QkyZVrEiJiYUazZyAcV-v1B5VY9pzVbV0N31NwhZURDuijkuSb1qoDa5M/s1911/simak1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1911" data-original-width="1516" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrpFR2X00sazmCGZsDz5h_ETzJB2MKGr2Mf82AXf8U4NebhTbEzu6nTbs_z6g9lGkfTF2hwPaxg2ad33lApJtIg1sl3pYz3LE2cM35flOJKtYN33raHkVZIYr7E67M7ow48QkyZVrEiJiYUazZyAcV-v1B5VY9pzVbV0N31NwhZURDuijkuSb1qoDa5M/w318-h400/simak1.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clifford D. Simak.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Click for
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clifford_D._Simak" target="_blank">more information on Clifford D. Simak.</a><br /></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Thank you
for reading.</span></span></div>
<p style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 5.9pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 6.1pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-22648287599195218802023-12-20T17:31:00.002-05:002023-12-20T18:10:49.281-05:00My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Five. Poor But Free. Louis Shalako.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFE2vqWE5jRe-pmYqyCaSTto1kblaBpTw2THkXioXUbdoTYR9VlgxN3tpq_suZ5w4xxsYKnPYcxKc-nZ1F-FqWm2lXIBd6-y1rnxnf-2at-cmFMYxUWYEjpXwMCd20LPt_NYk0vI3_rlU_P8A-XREfgHk11F_wyXv-vRkTqO5AlpTWj6L0JKzTD6IMII/s1600/8245322-theshadow.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1020" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFE2vqWE5jRe-pmYqyCaSTto1kblaBpTw2THkXioXUbdoTYR9VlgxN3tpq_suZ5w4xxsYKnPYcxKc-nZ1F-FqWm2lXIBd6-y1rnxnf-2at-cmFMYxUWYEjpXwMCd20LPt_NYk0vI3_rlU_P8A-XREfgHk11F_wyXv-vRkTqO5AlpTWj6L0JKzTD6IMII/w408-h640/8245322-theshadow.jpg" width="408" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako </p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Poor but free. Here we are, poor but free, looking
into the mirror of eternal truth. It has revealed much, and it has also left a
lot of things out, bearing in mind the time and space available. It is the tip
of the iceberg, the world’s longest written confession, all true, and the best
I can do, considering that memory is a reconstructive process and much time has
passed between then and now. It is some kind of confession, and what are you
going to do about <i>that</i> after all these years. Maybe it is also some kind of attempt
to get real with the world, to get right with the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe it’s just a shit-load of moral questions, and
not too many clear, simple and concise answers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It is an act of contrition, in some sense—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">And so, the years fly by, and we find ourselves older,
hopefully wiser, and maybe just a little bit sadder.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">What a trip down memory lane, though. At least for a
while, it was like it all came back to life again…I miss those people
sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">And now I find myself poor but free.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It could be worse—a lot worse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">After thirty years on disability, which if nothing
else provided a little stability in my life, or two-thirds of stability, when
you consider it really is well below the poverty line, now I get to retire. I
get to move on to the next phase of my life, which as far as I can make out,
involves being some kind of irascible old man, one who also has seen you
coming. I know who you are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I like to go on the internet and give young people a
hard time sometimes, I really do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">And I’m not putting up with your shit, either.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The Canada Pension Plan, the Old Age Security, the
Guaranteed Income Supplement, a part-time job and a rent-controlled apartment
in a working-class walk-up in the central city area. This is what I have to look
forward to.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">A hot meal and a cold beer once in a while, and what
an irony, in that now the government is selling pot and probably thinking of
getting into the heroin market, when you consider their ideological emphasis on
paying down debt at the expense of any form of rational social solutions….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">But, I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It could be a lot worse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I will make the best of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This will be my twenty-fourth book, and this is about
the time when I write <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The End,</i> and go
right back to the front of the book, and begin the process of re-reading, and
rewriting it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It really is a pain in the ass, I have to admit. Thank
Darwin I have nothing better to do, and at least I don’t have to sing for my
supper, or steal bread to feed my family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyhow.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This is when I flesh out a few details, and fill in a
few blanks, but all of those chapters were long enough to begin with, bearing
in mind the average blog post. Essentially, anyone who followed along got to
sort of watch me do this, a bit like watching Bob Ross paint one of his not particularly
good oils on the Public Broadcasting System, Channel 56, Detroit Michigan, on cable
television, all of those long years ago…if I had the time, I would show you how
that’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> done.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aqhVhO4VaKOI1FDgKkuQguTJ8PjKR9h1nwL-Fa05JVFUq4jMhqIVMCN3dAj1Im6h-fgF7v-oKwsl53iRXQWTL3nMxnBzbdk42XEu2hRyTscdWkbnMmGlf2KhAU49AXXzekx5Nedfg0eG4dT46Sxr1eWZRtrQt2bFq4CnYcRCFRWLLF_gO2hrXBFdvY0/s612/gettyimages-155883987-612x612.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aqhVhO4VaKOI1FDgKkuQguTJ8PjKR9h1nwL-Fa05JVFUq4jMhqIVMCN3dAj1Im6h-fgF7v-oKwsl53iRXQWTL3nMxnBzbdk42XEu2hRyTscdWkbnMmGlf2KhAU49AXXzekx5Nedfg0eG4dT46Sxr1eWZRtrQt2bFq4CnYcRCFRWLLF_gO2hrXBFdvY0/w640-h640/gettyimages-155883987-612x612.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to pop that chute and bring this old crop tour to an end... <i>#Louis</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">All those happy little trees, right.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I doubt if you could write your memoirs in anything
less than a million words, once you really set out to do it. The problem is,
that no one would ever want to read it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">No one really wants to get all that fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">involved.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Thanks for coming along, on what turned out to be a
rather extensive crop tour. It means a lot to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t know about you guys, but I have enjoyed the
ride.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">When you ride with me, you’re riding with the best.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">There
are eight million stories in the naked city.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This
is but one of them.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Who
knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Shadow knows.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">And who knows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe it will all work out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Poor old Louis <a href="https://play.google.com/store/info/name/Louis_Shalako?id=12p9828sb" target="_blank">has books and stories available fromGoogle Play,</a> don’t forget to check out the audiobooks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">See <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">his art on Fine
Art America.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Check out <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">One Million Words of Crap,</span></i><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"> </span></a>an audio essay on
independent, digital publishing, in celebration of fourteen years here at Long
Cool One Books.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Image: <a href="https://comicvine.gamespot.com/the-shadow/4005-28923/images/" target="_blank">This guy here.</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/10/my-criminal-memoir-louis-shalako.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; font-size: 13pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir. (Part One).</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-two-great.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Two.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-three-escape.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Three.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-four-female.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Four.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-five-bicycles.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Five.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-six-women-louis.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Six.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-seven-liars.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seven.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eight-growing.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eight.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-nine-cocaine.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nine.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-ten-high-speed.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Ten.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eleven.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eleven.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/post-interstitial.g?blogspotURL=https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-twelve-groped.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twelve.</span></a> (Access restricted due
to content. 18+)</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-thirteen-new.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Thirteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-fourteen-hash.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fourteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-fifteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fifteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-sixteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Sixteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-seventeen-knock.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seventeen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-eighteen-those.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eighteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-nineteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nineteen. </span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-one-joe.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-One</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-two-dee.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Two.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-three.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Three. </span></a></span></p>
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-four.html" target="_blank">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Four.</a></span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Thank you for reading, and listening.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-22111985580975131752023-12-18T15:32:00.001-05:002023-12-18T15:32:28.597-05:00My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Four. Jail, and Killers. Louis Shalako.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_qThhs-Nu5gmSJRGXE5sxcfY7AEZHS5j0j-gxuKH2yxU_i7-w5O_82ynMJnSR_HFOKFUNWHHT3XZh2HUsz9zZKSg2v-4CQx6KfeKe0nVleuFTmMeToYLrnRYCS-FYctEG4Ko-b58HKpTfRjPmQhkcveAIuoBD6CD4R_Bxvd3UNYBhYDB-Y0wKzKcNEk/s1024/stooges-resize.jpg.optimal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_qThhs-Nu5gmSJRGXE5sxcfY7AEZHS5j0j-gxuKH2yxU_i7-w5O_82ynMJnSR_HFOKFUNWHHT3XZh2HUsz9zZKSg2v-4CQx6KfeKe0nVleuFTmMeToYLrnRYCS-FYctEG4Ko-b58HKpTfRjPmQhkcveAIuoBD6CD4R_Bxvd3UNYBhYDB-Y0wKzKcNEk/w640-h480/stooges-resize.jpg.optimal.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The three killers, ladies and gentlemen...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jail, and killers. It was in 2003 when I found myself
in jail, for the first and only time in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As one might imagine, the experience was extremely
educational.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A bit of background. I had bought my Great Aunt’s
house in the south end. She was in an old age home, and my Aunt Sharon
suggested I put in an offer. My mother encouraged me as well.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The house wasn’t even on the market, but she’d been in
the old age home for over a year, and it was clear she wasn’t getting out—she
wasn’t coming home, ever again. I hadn’t been there three weeks when I knew
there was a problem. The neighbour was already showing his true colours. The
one guy on my right side was the instigator, and the guy who lived to my left
was his work buddy, in fact an employee. I was on disability. Unfortunately for
me, I could still walk, I could still talk. Quite frankly, it was too bad I
didn’t die, it would have made things a lot easier for everybody else.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The problem was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pain,</i>
ladies and gentlemen. I’d fallen through a scaffolding, May 4, 1989, working on
a building in Hamilton, Ontario. Some guys had been asked to clear a bunch of
stuff off the roof. Like the dangerous fools that they were, they yelled to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look out down below,</i> and proceeded to
throw all these scaffolding frames and cedar planks off of the top of a
six-story building. As one might imagine, they were fired on the same
afternoon. The construction company, what with being a bunch of cheap pricks
and all, kept the planks, and one of them split as I was walking across it. This
is where I failed to fall to my death, ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There were a few brothers. The one guy who did not get
fired was Mike, who was not there that day. Mike was in court that day. Mike
was out on bail, on a homicide beef, this guy had a wife and a kid living
downtown. I heard later he was convicted, after all these years, he is probably
out by now…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There I was, living on a $930.00 per month Ontario
Disability Support Program pension, and I’ve just bought a house, and the
fucking neighbour didn’t like it—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That is all I can figure there, it makes as much sense
as any other explanation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I lasted four years, with intermittent but persistent
harassment from more than one neighbour. When I moved in, I weighed two hundred
and ten, two hundred and fifteen pounds. When I moved out, I weighed one
hundred seventy-eight pounds…I was riding my bike back and forth to the food
bank, I was visiting my old man, now retired, mostly for the purpose of
watching his TV, drinking his tea and coffee, and yes, bumming his smokes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I went home, he’d let me take a few slices of
bread, all buttered up with margarine and a tin of soup or something, a handful
of tea bags…a half a dozen cigarettes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Over the course of those four years, people would bang
their fists on the side of my house when coming and going. People followed me
around, more than once. On one occasion, driving my dad home from a place
uptown, after he’d had one too many drinks, a familiar vehicle came up behind.
Recognizing me somehow in the darkness, they proceeded to make mock ramming
attacks at the back end, and when a Sarnia cop accidentally observed this
behaviour, she pulled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i> over—not
them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And what did you do to provoke them, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mister Shalako.”</i> What a stinking whore,
ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m convinced, only the presence of my old man asleep
on the passenger seat saved me from a quick and dirty little roadside
execution, and yes, that sounds an awful lot like paranoia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Some little prick put toast in my mailbox. They put
toast in the front and back screen doors, they put toast on every window ledge.
What message were you trying to send?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m toast? You’re going to burn my house down while
I’m sleeping some night?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But that’s what I was up against.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxohPj9Q_LKQYcfhrqigCaqOvRLpE2u9HsLzdX7NFmM3DG8qnBuy8k0BlY0r4c2rq3KOyUxOYTlURjJIq8M4CE6FdFW052AdpMbzp4W-ZCkhWVyKxHre91W8cNPwFV5dyQ9cSizgdHP0zTf3qzonFR96A6LRlutffK9C5fIb30s3RNNv6AhHut5PFxKA/s612/istockphoto-155149843-612x612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="407" data-original-width="612" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxohPj9Q_LKQYcfhrqigCaqOvRLpE2u9HsLzdX7NFmM3DG8qnBuy8k0BlY0r4c2rq3KOyUxOYTlURjJIq8M4CE6FdFW052AdpMbzp4W-ZCkhWVyKxHre91W8cNPwFV5dyQ9cSizgdHP0zTf3qzonFR96A6LRlutffK9C5fIb30s3RNNv6AhHut5PFxKA/w640-h426/istockphoto-155149843-612x612.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Who made this diagnosis...???"</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I complained to the police about the neighbour’s
harassment, they took me to the loonie bin for three days of observation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I wrote letters to the editor complaining about
criminal harassment, they were never published, and in the end, the cops came
around and took me to the loonie bin again…admittedly I was terribly depressed
by this time, but even so.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And when my goofy little neighbour accused me of
criminal harassment, the cops promptly arrested me and tossed me in the bucket.
I was accused of taking his photograph while him and the other neighbour were
illegally dumping behind a local department store, where I had pulled in to
answer a call—from my mother, who had given me a cheap flip-type cell-phone, in
the rather forlorn hopes that I wouldn’t feel so isolated, so vulnerable to
these creeps. Who was I going to call?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Certainly not the Sarnia police, that is for sure,
ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That was a quick road to hell, in my experience.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Just for the record. Yes, Willy and Squiggly, and
Buddy Two-Shoes and Zoomer were in and out of my house. McNuggets offered to
set up a grow-op, and was seriously disappointed when I said no. I said no,
ladies and gentlemen. I wasn’t willing to risk my fucking house and my fucking
pension over it—and social services fraud is a serious offence. That was my
thinking, of course guys like that didn’t understand it. They’re guys with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing to lose.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I still thought I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>
have something to lose.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I guess maybe I still had a lot to lose.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had gotten so hungry, so desperate, that I started
working for my brother, two hours here, four hours there…I had some hopes that
this would get the creepy neighbours off my back, naturally they just assumed
it was all more criminal stuff, or something. Like when I scraped up every
nickel and every dime, after six or eight months of ten bucks an hour, and
bought myself a little General Motors S-15, a club-cab, V-6 little pickup
truck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I asked the ODSP for the proper forms to report
income as a business, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they</i> started in
and I endured two and a half years of bureaucratic harassment from them…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It just went on, and on, and on. They didn’t want to
give me the proper forms, they wanted me to use the little thingy that comes in
the mail, where there is no provision to claim allowable deductions for things
like mileage, tools, work clothes. In my mind, all of this shit was somehow <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">related, </i>but of course there was no way
in hell to prove it, and no one else was ever going to investigate it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaInkprTDZ0NVwLTgYXrG_tuCT01d1mo6PmFyMw5eAgqBo1Fnmf2xUf8OkR3_iqzInEBzIbvUgPK3AlCJG2-b1KMXEKZhu-7tYQ4KpCYf4mlfDMLbxJCeNiCvNZ0Wi-GXZkBxUoEVGvLTfE9riJua1g4uP3x_eGiLtcdWvixhF3fSifswzl5p_C6awHI/s1350/Screenshot%202023-12-18%20144607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="661" data-original-width="1350" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaInkprTDZ0NVwLTgYXrG_tuCT01d1mo6PmFyMw5eAgqBo1Fnmf2xUf8OkR3_iqzInEBzIbvUgPK3AlCJG2-b1KMXEKZhu-7tYQ4KpCYf4mlfDMLbxJCeNiCvNZ0Wi-GXZkBxUoEVGvLTfE9riJua1g4uP3x_eGiLtcdWvixhF3fSifswzl5p_C6awHI/w640-h314/Screenshot%202023-12-18%20144607.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Letters to the editor ain't going to help you. Left, the county bucket, right, the courthouse.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You can write letters to the editor all day long, no
one cares.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So. In documents submitted to the court by Sarnia Police,
it was stated that I was ‘paranoid and delusional, dangerous and out of
control, and an unexploded bomb waiting for a chance to happen’. In other
words, just plain bullshit, and yet it does have a way of taking away all
credibility, any realistic hope for defense against a charge that was already
pretty bogus to begin with.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The judge asked who had made this diagnosis.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I yelled, “My fucking neighbour, that’s who—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And they all laughed, and the court moved on…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It cost me a couple of grand in legal fees. I sold my
house and moved back in with my old man. During the nine months I was out on
bail, I suffered anxiety attacks, real bad ones, which I had never suffered
before, and I have never suffered since. I was afraid to go anywhere alone, for
fear of running into Mr. K, my name for this fucking goof, and having him make
a hurried phone call to the Sarnia cops and I just felt so defenseless.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Truth is, he didn’t even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> to see me around—but luckily, he didn’t have the nerve just to
make something up, which would have worked well enough at this point. His worry
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there</i> would be that I might be
sitting around a dinner table, with a bunch of people the cops couldn’t
marginalize, and then his own bullshit story would have begun to unravel. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hell, even the cops aren’t that stupid. Seriously,
they might have caught on. In about a million years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Otherwise, I would have been back behind bars in a
heartbeat. I have no illusions about this piece of human filth having any kind
of a conscience. I know better than that, and that goes for the cops, the
courts and the social workers as well. Even my so-called psychiatrists weren’t
even half the man I was, and quite frankly, there was no hope they would ever
become so. If that sounds like sour grapes, well. Why not? What else did you
expect?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You still expect me to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like</i> you, after all of this bullshit. It’s just like that scene in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Catch-22…yeah, </i>you’re just trying, ever
so hard, to help me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihq-Rnr32k-KwUzG_WpdQ7YrcTM3b17r_0PY8UavkOTKKpwZnWtUZpGtp4-4OYJDouyz5s28-JWnqGVMnG3IvbFKTCAC-FYDFjV-F__u8DM8mM3cFFvdICEl9uOh3_0lksVqmU7ft04hOBwX6YwUhwq2Mo5p21aBOG25YMxtnG6vPVsh7htVt3GwPIfqY/s500/1b4eecbff0a0a9ad5834315b2525dbbc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihq-Rnr32k-KwUzG_WpdQ7YrcTM3b17r_0PY8UavkOTKKpwZnWtUZpGtp4-4OYJDouyz5s28-JWnqGVMnG3IvbFKTCAC-FYDFjV-F__u8DM8mM3cFFvdICEl9uOh3_0lksVqmU7ft04hOBwX6YwUhwq2Mo5p21aBOG25YMxtnG6vPVsh7htVt3GwPIfqY/w400-h300/1b4eecbff0a0a9ad5834315b2525dbbc.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a crummy little truck. It was all held against me, of course.</td></tr></tbody></table></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had no rights at all, and that is especially true
once the cops have transported you to the loonie bin once or twice. Talk about
insidious. Trust me, those guys really know what they’re doing when they set
out to destroy, absolutely destroy someone…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, the police take you out of their holding cell, and
take you to the county bucket. You are processed, where I was inspired enough
to mention the word ‘suicide’, and why not?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was pretty depressed by this point, and they stuck
me in the hospital wing of four cells.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was later that evening when they brought in Nick.
Nick and two of his brothers had beaten a man to death in the south end of this
city over some kind of a drug debt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was in the cell to my right…he was tall,
well-built, long dark hair, and a warrior in some sense. These guys have never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">recognized</i> the Crown. Can’t say as I
blame them, on some level…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Three days later, it’s time for a bail hearing. They
take you through a tunnel over to the court house, and into a holding cell with
six or seven males in there…there’s a red-haired, blue-eyed guy, not all that
unusual for a native guy, and this is another one of the brothers—he’s
eyeballing me, sitting there on a bench, and he’s walking up and down the cell.
Not a happy man, right. I had run into another guy that I actually knew, and we
just kept talking to each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We’re trying to ignore this creep, who has some kind
of burr under his saddle, and this is when the guards bring in the third
brother. This guy is clearly native, Ojibwe, and he’s huge. Maybe not as tall
as me, but holy, fuck, he’s three feet wide across the shoulders, he’s got legs
like tree trunks, his chest gives the impression of being a foot and a half
deep, front to back—you do not want to tangle with that guy. This is the third
brother, all of them held in custody at various institutions, depending on
where and when they were picked up. Let’s say one brother goes to trial first.
Realizing he’s sunk, he cops a plea to a lesser charge, and off he goes to
jail. The second brother comes to trial, and realizing he’s sunk, he also
pleads to a lesser charge. This may sound pretty hard on the third brother, as
they were all involved…and yet, they are also the only ones who know what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really happened</i> out there that night.
Their lawyers may have talked back and forth, and while they were brothers,
self-interest will also play a role. It always does—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So now, you’re in a holding cell with three killers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXw616Qguwrgsqy6znOmguB7AZwDOuFw2ZbEhg44oisWe1O-i0lYZYV0wzVCYFTxLr6KIKKFPoma3hYGwnypDGip-I8fJQDNxziHqDNtyRJrWGfFM4z1TxT8muh0aMuMPA8qEHEtmnWc0BrV-CNYoyDiF3iz2Jrc5Wf-olK1QDybXBXBcDV16r4FCxQ8/s3360/sheilah-l-martin-bn-hr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3360" data-original-width="2400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXw616Qguwrgsqy6znOmguB7AZwDOuFw2ZbEhg44oisWe1O-i0lYZYV0wzVCYFTxLr6KIKKFPoma3hYGwnypDGip-I8fJQDNxziHqDNtyRJrWGfFM4z1TxT8muh0aMuMPA8qEHEtmnWc0BrV-CNYoyDiF3iz2Jrc5Wf-olK1QDybXBXBcDV16r4FCxQ8/w458-h640/sheilah-l-martin-bn-hr.jpg" width="458" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hiyee.</i> Welcome to my court, where all are equal under the law.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With a good lawyer, I made bail. So did Gibby, my new
buddy, and holy fuck, the next nine months were pretty bad. I sold my house,
paid off my aunt, and ended up with $27,000.00 in my pocket, which wasn’t much
consolation. All that really did was to drive the ignorant bitches downtown at
the ODSP into a real frenzy of applied cruelty and quite frankly, these days I
don’t talk to the fucking social workers any more than I have to.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t have any good reason to talk to the cops.
Maybe if I saw a house on fire, or a terrible accident, but it would have to be
a good reason.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The last time I called the cops, I got nothing but
shit out of it—we had a problem child in the building, a guy who pounded on
things endlessly, and yet they never seemed to do much about it. Even the
landlord didn’t do much about it. Fuck, I saw a vacant unit in the building and
moved out from under the guy, and that is just the facts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I did call the cops once, more recently—I would have
preferred not to give my name, but with the modern cell-phone, you don’t have
much choice if you do decide to call. Some guy, all addled up on strong dope
and probably not taking his anti-psychotic meds was having some kind of an
episode and I sort of felt I had no choice. I called it in, and pulled out of
my parking spot, and got the hell out of there—if the cops are going to shoot
some fucker in a bank lobby, at least it isn’t going to be me, ladies and
gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Owning a home was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for
me, and I will never get a chance to own a home again. Basically, this
individual and I entered into a ‘bond at common law’, a so-called peace bond.
The charge was withdrawn, and that was it, everyone was happy but me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Like I said—it was all very educational.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for having a little money, all you can do is ‘spend
it down’ as best you can, all the while remembering that the ODSP can hit you
with an ‘overpayment’, in which case, now you owe them a substantial sum of
money, and in the end, you realize that the whole system is stacked against
you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After all of this, I went into the worst depression of
my life. It went on for about a year and a half…the first thought I had upon
waking up was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have to kill myself.</i>
The last thought that went through my head when I went to bed at night was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have to kill myself.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That is one hell of a way to live, ladies and
gentlemen. If suicide, or attempted suicide, or threats of suicide are
redirected aggression, and it probably is—yes, ladies and gentlemen, I really
wanted to kill that little piece of shit, and one or two Sarnia cops as well. I
had fantasies of driving my vehicle up the steps and into the front lobby of
Sarnia Police Services, and make them kill me—suicide by cop, as it is called.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have no idea, some years later, of how I managed to
get real again. At some point it was over, and I could live again. I could
breathe again…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Want to know something funny? I have no criminal
record. For one thing, I wasn’t going to knuckle under to the likes of them,
and secondly, my good name means a lot to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Take it or leave it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is what it is.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Going back to the quote at the end of the previous
chapter, whether that’s accurate or not, I really can’t say. However, I have,
absolutely for sure, rubbed shoulders with four genuine killers in my lifetime.
That’s more than enough for me, thank you very much.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p>I guess I've rubbed shoulders with a few malignant little assholes as well.</o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Louis has <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Books-Louis-Shalako/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ALouis+Shalako" target="_blank">books and stories available from Amazon.<o:p></o:p></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">See <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">his art on Fine
Art America.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Check out <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">One Million Words of Crap,</span></i><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"> </span></a>an audio essay on
independent, digital publishing, in celebration of fourteen years here at Long
Cool One Books.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/10/my-criminal-memoir-louis-shalako.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; font-size: 13.0pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir. (Part One).</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-two-great.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Two.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-three-escape.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Three.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-four-female.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Four.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-five-bicycles.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Five.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-six-women-louis.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Six.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-seven-liars.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seven.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eight-growing.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eight.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-nine-cocaine.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nine.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-ten-high-speed.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Ten.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eleven.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eleven.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/post-interstitial.g?blogspotURL=https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-twelve-groped.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twelve.</span></a> (Access restricted due
to content. 18+)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-thirteen-new.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Thirteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-fourteen-hash.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fourteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-fifteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fifteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-sixteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Sixteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-seventeen-knock.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seventeen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-eighteen-those.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eighteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-nineteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nineteen. </span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-one-joe.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-One</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-two-dee.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Two.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-three.html" target="_blank">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Three. </a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Thank you for reading, and listening.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-38117687320594086752023-12-15T19:26:00.000-05:002023-12-15T19:26:02.065-05:00My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Three. Armed Robbery and the Potential For Violence. Louis Shalako.<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0cZ1uFVKZHGhmIO1WIQviuwEkhr4zoMp-dPql8dykTVyGNzvrYxtgksAIIKN101RIhXdFHB04MHa-B0pVtNEE3XHZNUNQ10jkpxIk1VIB0B99QAMxoHG7FZOl6YhfAxI7Cyq28sqXBziVz0NLeQ5vmACnv1G203z24OKNKKVRskiKGsCiUXAYBAImN4/s2400/Another-Fine-Mess-Laurel-and-Hardy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1348" data-original-width="2400" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0cZ1uFVKZHGhmIO1WIQviuwEkhr4zoMp-dPql8dykTVyGNzvrYxtgksAIIKN101RIhXdFHB04MHa-B0pVtNEE3XHZNUNQ10jkpxIk1VIB0B99QAMxoHG7FZOl6YhfAxI7Cyq28sqXBziVz0NLeQ5vmACnv1G203z24OKNKKVRskiKGsCiUXAYBAImN4/w640-h360/Another-Fine-Mess-Laurel-and-Hardy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stan (left), has a plan.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Armed robbery and the potential for violence. Fast
forward to the early to mid-nineties. McNuggets, who considers himself to be a
criminal mastermind, and Buddy Two-Shoes, an equal partner a lot of the time—well.
He has some kind of a brainstorm.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It may have been chance, coincidence, a careless
remark by a buddy, or a fellow-traveller. He got the idea from somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They had a friend, one who drove the mail trucks. That
friend may have been the sort of person who had a good job, liked to smoke a
bit of pot, and when the day came, they might have had a little hit on that
good old crack pipe, right. And it’s pretty insidious stuff. Back in the good
old days, the vast majority of Canadians received their unemployment cheques my
mail. They got their old age pensions, by mail. They got their tax returns,
disability pensions, fucking welfare cheques, all sorts of federal and
provincial benefits by mail. People paid their bills by mail—we tend to forget
that stuff now that it’s all electronic and we live in the 21<sup>st</sup>
century. We pay our bills with a couple of clicks on a mouse these days…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That must have been what got them thinking. This is
pretty serious stuff, but what if? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What
if,</i> we could grab the whole fucking truck, full of sacks of mail, on just
the right day, and what if there were hundreds, possibly thousands of cheques
in those mailbags.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I mean, it’s a pretty big town right, and cheque day
rolls around once a month.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What then?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then,</i>
eh?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One has to wonder how much thought they actually put
into this crime. One has to wonder, just what they planned to do next, for
surely that is the really crucial part of the operation. What would be the
point of grabbing a shit-load of cheques, if you don’t have any sort of a plan,
in terms of how you’re going to turn all that paper into cold, hard cash. And
you have to do it quick. There’s only so much time to do it. Were they going to
go all over Ontario, cashing those stolen cheques?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Your buddy down at the auto leasing place must be
getting pretty warm by now himself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That being said, these guys were known for fraud,
stolen credit and debit cards, impersonating a card-holder and making
purchases, and they probably did have at least a few ideas I am sure. What if
they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">also,</i> had a friend in the bank,
or some other ideas on that score…maybe you could just sell a bunch of cheques
to a much larger player. Laundering cash is one thing, cheques are another, and
especially a big whack of personal, individual, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">government</i> cheques.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I never heard much about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>, but I wasn’t really hanging around with them all that much at
the time. I heard some things at second hand—the fact that they were in jail,
for example. Understandably, they didn’t want to talk much about it afterwards,
and it’s not all that easy to press for such information…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are certain questions you just don’t ask.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Like, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what in
the hell were you thinking—<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRovQMqLIcWFUO6ZPVNNUpwD5UsQfrCeNPeIXmZNajmFL5Nf6IS2zOgoOYx52M9x6Tee63LngspjoRLAbzyy6NiPIZfsk8C_EvbVT_pgYW-20ue5-CbCKpvb9HSIcl0IypA1zBvPn_9ojpBFhi9jquQprV-Jm8p_TAzg-Dc3Iy_WzbYN61vNnxOnwBMNU/s673/Screenshot%202023-12-15%20165124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="673" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRovQMqLIcWFUO6ZPVNNUpwD5UsQfrCeNPeIXmZNajmFL5Nf6IS2zOgoOYx52M9x6Tee63LngspjoRLAbzyy6NiPIZfsk8C_EvbVT_pgYW-20ue5-CbCKpvb9HSIcl0IypA1zBvPn_9ojpBFhi9jquQprV-Jm8p_TAzg-Dc3Iy_WzbYN61vNnxOnwBMNU/w640-h372/Screenshot%202023-12-15%20165124.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, with the cooperation of the driver, an employee of
Canada Post, with some knowledge of the inner workings of the postal system,
one of them, most likely McNuggets, cooked up some semblance of a plan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Almost any criminal can be dangerous. These guys were
not normally known for violence, but this was a big heist, at least in their
own minds. McNuggets was not banned in the U.S., and so he went over the river
to a gun shop and got himself an electric stun-gun. Not so much a gun, it more
closely resembled an electric cattle prod, although it would absolutely put a
man down, rather than just giving a 1200-pound cow a little buzz on the ass…I
do recall him showing me, which shows that they must have (or I must have),
been coming and going still. He even offered to let my try it, an opportunity
which I politely declined. No, thanks—I’ll take your word for it. He smuggled
that back over the river. There was some contact, in that they still sold me a
bit of pot once in a while, although my cocaine days were either gone or going
very, very soon now—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah, what would happen if McNuggets, or Buddy
Two-Shoes, or Zoomer, opened up a vehicle looking for a wallet, and found a
firearm in there…what then.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUmIF2I8mUEJ_YjW1XztcUktzhPq7PeTZb5H4Z46lnxnKxjQ848kiPytreqWIq_N5Q2XgJpjLfc3vMepBg9Z00jQ_QmDZ6Rb73DusiLodnazPA8UMqih45ZAcNu8DaQfGPe4fSg1mQ9IlUo9TCRdbFGHWW09xeot01HCQ5AmJ6BKVnVWCXQNkmJYXAuY/s1000/19-Pcs-Stainless-Steel-Lock-Set-Gift-Kits-Lock-Repair-Sets-for-Door-Lock-1687335-7301-1000x1000.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUmIF2I8mUEJ_YjW1XztcUktzhPq7PeTZb5H4Z46lnxnKxjQ848kiPytreqWIq_N5Q2XgJpjLfc3vMepBg9Z00jQ_QmDZ6Rb73DusiLodnazPA8UMqih45ZAcNu8DaQfGPe4fSg1mQ9IlUo9TCRdbFGHWW09xeot01HCQ5AmJ6BKVnVWCXQNkmJYXAuY/w400-h400/19-Pcs-Stainless-Steel-Lock-Set-Gift-Kits-Lock-Repair-Sets-for-Door-Lock-1687335-7301-1000x1000.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Promise you will never tell. Thief's honour...</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what I mean—sort of, when I say these guys,
low-level punks that they were, could also be dangerous, not just to other
people but to themselves as well. One thing led to another, in a logical
progression of events. And a hot firearm can always be sold, for a little cash,
to someone who might be even stupider, or maybe even just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">crazier,</i> than you are. Selling someone a hot firearm, and they go
off and use it somewhere, is that a whole lot different than the person who is
just helping out a friend to find a vein, and pressing the plunger on that
syringe, in all innocence, which results in the death, not of an enemy, but a
friend—what then.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What then? The same holds true for a cheap taser
bought in a pawn shop or whatever in a little town across the river, and no
plan is completely foolproof.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyhow, the basic plan was pretty simple. Their postal
driver friend was to pick up a load of mailbags, wherever that might have been.
I’m thinking London or Toronto, some postal sorting facility in Mississauga, considering
the load, and then bring it back to town, where these guys would be waiting at
a certain time, at a certain corner. Their friend would have to stop at the
stop sign, and then they’d leap out, pull open the door, climb in…and take him
hostage, what with having a taser weapon and all.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoOilseWH2HmsV9Z4BVKdIoooLrFE1-pKVy5rjE365-pD0746z6a5cQJxtzdSDEvITTVOQi563b7XWkawdpBoatYeWTM_oe_PMqehjF6M_QLOMHhCh4XcbygHJNAMcdovtHO3kNzK9vjqi4eKsIE9FD1gyOivywl337MGE6VYMOWzadEDwQN-2CKJUkg/s591/Screenshot%202023-12-15%20165252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="591" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoOilseWH2HmsV9Z4BVKdIoooLrFE1-pKVy5rjE365-pD0746z6a5cQJxtzdSDEvITTVOQi563b7XWkawdpBoatYeWTM_oe_PMqehjF6M_QLOMHhCh4XcbygHJNAMcdovtHO3kNzK9vjqi4eKsIE9FD1gyOivywl337MGE6VYMOWzadEDwQN-2CKJUkg/s320/Screenshot%202023-12-15%20165252.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A big sack of cheques, right...</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They had a story all cooked up for the guy, and all
that person had to do was to stick to it. This would be all the more
convincing, if they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actually
injured,</i> when you think on it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, this guy (or girl, which is barely possible),
must have wondered. But they were to go somewhere out in the country. Tie them
up, gagged and blindfolded, steal the truck and dump him or her out into the
road…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was no guarantee that they weren’t going to get
zapped with that taser. There was no real guarantee of success, there was no
real guarantee of the proceeds of the crime being properly distributed, in any
sort of equitable manner, and the truth is, they got cold feet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Where in the fuck are you going to hide a Canada Post
truck for any length of time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These guys were bound to get caught, one way or
another. They just didn’t see that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The reader or listener may be able to guess what
happens next. The cops had been tipped off. The boys were waiting, and their
friend pulls up to the exact spot, right on schedule.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It must have seemed like they had it made. All the
cops had to do was to remain in concealment, all they had to do was to wait, to
pounce, and to catch them red-handed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Which is exactly what they did.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s a funny thing about McNuggets, who had his pride.
He was never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">caught</i> in the commission
of a crime. No, ladies and gentlemen, he was always betrayed. He was always <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ratted off by a friend.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is one of the things that made him dangerous. He
couldn’t accept that he had simply bitten off more than he could chew.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He didn’t take into account that that other guy had a
wife, a kid, a home, and a good job, and he’d just been talking in his cups, as
the saying goes. That other guy wasn’t prepared to do hard time for him, in
spite of the criminal code of honour, or whatever ludicrous ethical and values
system one subscribed to—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It never occurred to him that the other guy had no
reason to trust either one of them, or that they wouldn’t, in fact, taser him,
take all the money, and if he didn’t like it, he could go fuck himself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What’s he going to do now? Call the cops and confess
to a federal crime?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYrZuLgofRzwTaFjUKN3DeBAu1NGcmOITdtBRkB565SrHV7aNmpYnSZbINK7tzRmAzJqnVrRd-yM7aij_unXJKrFmseL4f4im-WxuUgx35gD_dHH-uNMGZ6kXH9vLDmdCzScTRdlKn-UEb7R-2P63joJ2M_QwgpQeK7QiaxhmQqFUJjiTkLlmtInJFxU/s543/Screenshot%202023-12-15%20164912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="383" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYrZuLgofRzwTaFjUKN3DeBAu1NGcmOITdtBRkB565SrHV7aNmpYnSZbINK7tzRmAzJqnVrRd-yM7aij_unXJKrFmseL4f4im-WxuUgx35gD_dHH-uNMGZ6kXH9vLDmdCzScTRdlKn-UEb7R-2P63joJ2M_QwgpQeK7QiaxhmQqFUJjiTkLlmtInJFxU/w452-h640/Screenshot%202023-12-15%20164912.jpg" width="452" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enough to put a man down...</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Interestingly, McNuggets was the only guy I ever heard
of who waived bail. That might have been smart, start early on your sentence
and just get it over with. He’s the only guy I know that entered a plea and
headed off to the penitentiary, where at least they had a library, recreation
facilities, and the opportunity to learn some kind of a trade…poor old Buddy
Two-Shoes, in a separate trial, didn’t stand much of a chance once his
accomplice had copped a plea. McNuggets did four years and Buddy, two and a
half, one must assume he made some kind of a statement of fact. McNuggets was
the only guy I know, who literally showed me a set of lock-picks. McNuggets was
the only guy I know who bought some kind of plastic card-printer or embosser,
paying a couple of grand for that off of Ebay. What was he thinking of? And
McNuggets, as you may recall, had that grow-op in his basement, which he showed
to anybody who came by the house, but only after swearing them to an oath of
secrecy…McNuggets waived parole.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When he was out, he was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">out.</i> He didn’t owe anybody anything. There were no conditions, once
he’d served his sentence and allegedly, paid his debt to society.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for Two-Shoes. Maybe he caught the benefit of the
fact that his buddy had a worse, or maybe even just a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">longer,</i> record. A record as long as your arm—how often have we
heard the expression?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hell, maybe McNuggets just had longer arms.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He told me an interesting story. When he was really
young, and fearless, he’d broken into a home. He’d hit the jackpot—he’s found a
stash of weapons. Jamming them all into a pillowcase, having read a book or two
on burglars, safe-crackers and the like, he got the hell out of there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It didn’t take too long before he realized he couldn’t
take them home. He said he’d taken them ‘out in the woods’ and buried them.
When he went back some time later, he did find them, but they were all rusty
and he still didn’t really know what to do with them. One wonders what to make
of a story like that, or what eventually happened to those weapons.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This might also account for some of that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">paranoia,</i> when I was talking about
writing about small town criminals.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for Zoomer, there was a story where a couple of
cops grabbed him off the street one day. They did not take him downtown. They
took him to some empty apartment in the south end of town and tied him up in a
chair…they beat the living fuck out of good old Zoomer, and considering the
person, one wonders what exactly they hoped to achieve.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You’re not likely to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reform</i> a guy like that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The story goes, that he had stolen a cop’s hat out of
a vehicle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hat,</i>
really?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, there is such a thing as honour, there is such a thing
as humiliation, wounded pride and the like.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One wonders if there was also a weapon, a handgun, of
official issue or otherwise, and whether such a weapon had ever been recovered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Pure speculation on my part, but it is what it is,
ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">God knows there’s enough weapons out there.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWj60KnoVmZpptdOiC0BW1V5BYiEnwTZw7iIefzxz2kOK3fkORCeQ1gUjIO1_b6_Q_62RJHXmeYp6G_TUrQXcRDeb3-360nn1LmbRK5UXyIbuiYWE3gdXlVLPQ2gQKNo3AgqUuTnTFfnWSXS0TTzjwd4bj8oEh33h2Lp_psouqH-TmcpuKg2Ru_duaOc/s800/HG-0607-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWj60KnoVmZpptdOiC0BW1V5BYiEnwTZw7iIefzxz2kOK3fkORCeQ1gUjIO1_b6_Q_62RJHXmeYp6G_TUrQXcRDeb3-360nn1LmbRK5UXyIbuiYWE3gdXlVLPQ2gQKNo3AgqUuTnTFfnWSXS0TTzjwd4bj8oEh33h2Lp_psouqH-TmcpuKg2Ru_duaOc/w400-h266/HG-0607-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like he scored.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">***</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It has been said that </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">the average person can
unknowingly walk past 36 murderers in their lifetime</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.
Think about the stranger who you brushed shoulders with on the bus, the person
standing in front of you in line to grab a coffee or the passenger who sat down
next to you on a plane. – New York Post.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Poor old Louis Shalako <a href="https://books.apple.com/ca/author/louis-shalako/id709949458?see-all=books" target="_blank">has books and stories available from iTunes.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">See <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">his art on Fine
Art America.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Check out <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">One Million Words of Crap,</span></i><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"> </span></a>an audio essay on
independent, digital publishing, in celebration of fourteen years here at Long
Cool One Books.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/10/my-criminal-memoir-louis-shalako.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; font-size: 13.0pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir. (Part One).</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-two-great.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Two.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-three-escape.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Three.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-four-female.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Four.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-five-bicycles.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Five.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-six-women-louis.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Six.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-seven-liars.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seven.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eight-growing.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eight.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-nine-cocaine.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nine.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-ten-high-speed.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Ten.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eleven.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eleven.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/post-interstitial.g?blogspotURL=https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-twelve-groped.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twelve.</span></a> (Access restricted due
to content. 18+)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-thirteen-new.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Thirteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-fourteen-hash.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fourteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-fifteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fifteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-sixteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Sixteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-seventeen-knock.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seventeen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-eighteen-those.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eighteen.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-nineteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nineteen. </span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty.</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-one-joe.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-One</span></a></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-two-dee.html" target="_blank">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Two.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thank you for reading, and listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-71191026427977721362023-12-13T17:25:00.002-05:002023-12-13T18:01:22.111-05:00My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-Two. Dee. Louis Shalako.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeCVlUnySojuOhnzQyecOjYrHN42Zg9eI_-kg5zvqT5gJuF2TTu7lTmBRE1qIuI1NhCE5_MyB1Shk5zZu449CUh4vOShQWjQU8XhcK44k6mzDISjKA3tVPk_NJzdP6tRIz0a0UsY6VCYM3SWAcra_bsA2yi23Ls-MC9BfCJGQfadF0FPi7B37A84KN_Q/s4661/(5).jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4457" data-original-width="4661" height="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeCVlUnySojuOhnzQyecOjYrHN42Zg9eI_-kg5zvqT5gJuF2TTu7lTmBRE1qIuI1NhCE5_MyB1Shk5zZu449CUh4vOShQWjQU8XhcK44k6mzDISjKA3tVPk_NJzdP6tRIz0a0UsY6VCYM3SWAcra_bsA2yi23Ls-MC9BfCJGQfadF0FPi7B37A84KN_Q/w640-h612/(5).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's all growed up now.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Dee. Some years had passed and Dee had grown into a
beautiful young woman. In some sense, she was a statistically-average 20
year-old, but then I don’t particularly need humongous breasts, the massive
backside which seems to be a fashion in certain circles these days. She was
well-formed, with all the bits and pieces in all the right places…the sort of
girl who really should have been painted on the nose of a B-17 bomber.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">After seven years together, the relationship between
my girlfriend and I had ended.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I have to accept full responsibility for that,
admittedly, I was suffering from some pretty bad depression after my big
failure in journalism. My girlfriend had a really good job, I was dead broke,
and what was almost worse, there was some pressure to marry. Willy told me. He
told me I had six months to propose, or she was probably going to walk anyways.
His wife and my girlfriend, were very good friends. The information was
credible enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Truth is, I broke off with her, and to say that my
depression got even worse, and went on and on and on, with no relief in sight,
would be nothing more than the truth—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">So, when Zoomer finally got caught, and sent away, I
was both single and at something of a loose end.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">A guy like Zoomer, once he’s got a charge or two against
him, he’s out on bail. If he fails to attend court, that’s another charge. If
he evades the police, that’s another charge, if they get him on camera
shoplifting, that’s another charge. When they finally do catch up to him, he’s
got a long list of charges. Some of that goes away with a plea agreement, even
so, he’s looking at some time in the bucket—and the local jail isn’t really
meant for long terms of incarceration, with no provision for recreation, no
provision for education, not even remedial reading, let alone a trade. Once
he’s been sentenced, he’s likely to be assigned to a provincial (or federal),
institution somewhere a little further down the road. This time he ended up in
the Elgin-Middlesex Detention Centre, located in southwest London, Ontario.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">When Dee asked me to drive her up to London so she
could visit her boyfriend in jail, I probably hesitated a bit, but she was
buying gas—maybe a cheeseburger and fries if I was lucky, and we probably did
have a joint or two for the ride.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">There I was, with a sweet-smelling young woman on the
seat beside me. It’s a good hour’s drive up to London. She’s not overweight.
She’s not all skinny and scrawny…she had nice knees, thick, dark brown hair,
brown eyes and good shoulders. She was never heavy on the makeup, her nails
were never big, long, painted claws. She’d never needed it, I suppose. She was
exactly perfect just the way she was, and this is an assessment from forty
years later—well, there’s no accounting for taste, as they say. Assuming four
or so years younger than either Zoom or I, she would be twenty-two or
twenty-three years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">While her history was well known to me, what with
being Zoom’s criminal accomplice, in all so many things, it was like the girl
next door, wholesome and healthy. But she had the driver’s license, grandma’s
car, she could get over the river into the U.S. where Zoom was banned. Her and
a girlfriend could go over the river and come back with a couple of 60-oz
bottles, a carton of cheap smokes and somehow stuff all that into their rather
oversized purses.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Perfect, and yet one had to wonder what went on in her
head…and mine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Good
enough to eat.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah, if only I had the nerve.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">We have to talk about something. She hadn’t finished
high school, she had no real education, and as far as I could determine, no
real ideas of her own. She seemed bright enough, and at some point we’re at the
gate. We’re parking the car, pushing a button and gaining admittance to the
public area of what is a maximum-security prison.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s pretty easy to get an idea. It’s pretty easy to
get a bit of a crush, what with being lonely, as well as physically healthy.
Truth is, I was as horny as a ten-peckered Billy goat, and I probably spent a
little too much time thinking about the significance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Truth is, she just needed a ride, no one else was
available—or that dumb, yet Zoom seemed glad enough to see me as well as
her—otherwise, he might not have seen her at all. Probably, her grandma would
not allow her to take the vehicle for hours at a time, not to another town a
hundred kilometres away, and most especially, not to visit Zoom in jail.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It was me or nothing, probably.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUOHiW2mj5NhxN5VYHgMf3Q-VibmDFtOp5vlp3fu-TYVhrVk_BWSMOy_KgjrEKczNWGqtq765vYmWrHILabjqCc0DXl0iS4L2MEpz3SV77yPQSLOPg6V0HAOBUyaxIzoEvUE2nVBw93ooEWmlGKCAOH8Xo41i8auYs54Erb3XQ0lkZCO0fKcreh2ohik/s1216/Screenshot%202023-12-13%20171321.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1216" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUOHiW2mj5NhxN5VYHgMf3Q-VibmDFtOp5vlp3fu-TYVhrVk_BWSMOy_KgjrEKczNWGqtq765vYmWrHILabjqCc0DXl0iS4L2MEpz3SV77yPQSLOPg6V0HAOBUyaxIzoEvUE2nVBw93ooEWmlGKCAOH8Xo41i8auYs54Erb3XQ0lkZCO0fKcreh2ohik/w640-h404/Screenshot%202023-12-13%20171321.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There it is, the Middlesex-Elgin Detention Centre.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">And of course, I got this horrible crush on her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It was sappy enough, as such things often are. But
with me, she wouldn’t have to steal, or so I told myself. With me, she wouldn’t
have to worry about me cheating on her, with me, et cetera, et cetera, et
cetera.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah, ladies and gentlemen, with me, she wouldn’t have
to worry about coming down HIV positive due to dirty needles and a lifelong
amphetamine habit, which was one reason guys like Zoom don’t want to go to jail
in the first place.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">All they want, is to keep going—they’re never going to
quit, and they’re usually the first ones to admit it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">As for your girlfriend, Zoom, quite frankly, she could
do better. Maybe even a lot better.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Alas, it was not to be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This went on for some weeks, visiting Zoom once a week
or so. At some point it’s like Stockholm syndrome, where you’re sort of
captive, and yet dependent. It was better than being alone all the time, and of
course I had my thoughts. Which were predictable enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">One night she called me up. Asked me what I was doing,
and I said nothing much. She said she’d stop by and smoke a joint with me. I
was grateful enough, what with being out of work six months in a row. There
might have been a bit of a recession going on, or maybe I had just lost all
confidence…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Depression will do a lot of funny things to an
otherwise sensible person.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">She pulled into the driveway, on a warm summer
evening. We sat on lawn chairs in the door of my old man’s garage, and she
pulled out a big joint and lit it up. She told me she was going out with one of
her girlfriends and wondered if I wanted to come along—I shrugged, saying I was
broke and she didn’t exactly insist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Dee was wearing a pair of thin, short shorts in some
floral pattern, with a bit of lace around the legs. She had brown leather
sandals on, and she had good feet. Her top was thin, stretchy cotton, not
exposing the midriff but not meant to be tucked in, either. She smelled good
and the smile was good. Fuck, she hung around for fifteen or twenty minutes and
then off she went, presumably to have a good time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s a good way to remember her. Young, healthy, and
cuter than the belly-button on a tsetse-fly, as my old man used to say.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It was also one hell of a signal, or so I remember
thinking. The only question was what to make of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">In the end, all I made was a big mess, and if nothing
else, embarrassed the hell out of me, and probably, her too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Speaking purely objectively, I knew what love was—and
love lost. I also knew what sex was, and I’m thinking that might have been part
of the problem. There was nothing wrong with my imagination, ladies and
gentlemen. There was nothing objective about this situation, it was all subjective.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Somehow I knew her birthday was coming up, maybe a
week or two before mine. Here I am, a pretty nice guy by almost any standard,
and I have no idea of how to go about it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Somewhere I scraped up a ball or two and decided to do
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>about it, come hell or high
water, and let the chips fall where they may. Just to put that in its proper
perspective, I’m trying to fuck my buddy’s girlfriend, while he’s in jail, and
who knows where that might go, if only a man was lucky enough—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">She was definitely worth a gamble.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">One way or another, the situation must be resolved.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mdDfBMrWhN-RfsFuuC4DI1qMRfQg-DyoRfAp0D3CyCKiiGaWn2ZRNgStcMf5HGTjDzCHP3VIu3t_ri1-LPITyfb6OCmkoJLHGOFuDC6sYAz-8FxkhyphenhyphenCFScV72n9fjWZrWUeaFZAAs5iidvY92osObnfBMsZeBLJX0shQhyphenhyphenSatJxfQhnxnEzj7VklmF0/s3000/Stranger%20-%20Copy.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mdDfBMrWhN-RfsFuuC4DI1qMRfQg-DyoRfAp0D3CyCKiiGaWn2ZRNgStcMf5HGTjDzCHP3VIu3t_ri1-LPITyfb6OCmkoJLHGOFuDC6sYAz-8FxkhyphenhyphenCFScV72n9fjWZrWUeaFZAAs5iidvY92osObnfBMsZeBLJX0shQhyphenhyphenSatJxfQhnxnEzj7VklmF0/w640-h426/Stranger%20-%20Copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one was worth a gamble...</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">So, firing up the Wayback machine here, setting the
time and the date, circa 1985 or ’86 or so, pulling the big red handle, the
wheels go round and round…I must have had some money. I don’t see how I could
have done it otherwise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Let’s say it was payday and I was working at Central
Cab. I had a few connections of my own. I bought a gram of cocaine. I bought a
40-oz bottle of Wiser’s Canadian Rye Whiskey. I had a quarter bag of pot…I had
a little bit of this and a little bit of that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I scraped up the nerve and dialled the phone. After a
few rings, she picked up…my heart sank. By the sounds of things, the party had
already broken out over at her place…I asked her if she wanted to get together,
what with it being her birthday and all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">She laughed over the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Oh, Louis,’ she says. Oh, Louis.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah, I’m a nice guy and everything—oh, well.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">That night, I came very close to shooting
myself, right in the head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I didn’t, but I came awful close. I still had her on
the phone. She was distracted by stuff happening at her end. I wanted her to
hear the shot…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Bang.</i> I let the phone drop to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I could still hear her laughing…finally, I pushed the
button and hung up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">If that didn’t put things into perspective, I don’t
know what will, as the saying goes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s not a whole hell of a lot more to add.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnvxI1oels2hNQp3qwyIjaQ99cjtZVdlEgEgrVbLN1GrzoFBg0tghYmVoLfhzz61xYE7BuVlYXsKlhJz4VWGiDIxpKFP0VrgQnR7lUkkTatj646XmjvBIbZTJ1h10Bqjcyjju9CXF5S4q1Q9Ju3BIPr7YY0nOw8-N4vdVoU-MxYWWltxscgGCZtcg0kk/s1600/bolt-cocked.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="954" data-original-width="1600" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnvxI1oels2hNQp3qwyIjaQ99cjtZVdlEgEgrVbLN1GrzoFBg0tghYmVoLfhzz61xYE7BuVlYXsKlhJz4VWGiDIxpKFP0VrgQnR7lUkkTatj646XmjvBIbZTJ1h10Bqjcyjju9CXF5S4q1Q9Ju3BIPr7YY0nOw8-N4vdVoU-MxYWWltxscgGCZtcg0kk/w640-h382/bolt-cocked.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't try this at home, kiddies.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">All I can really say, is that a .22-calibre short,
fired from a Cooey bolt-action sporting rifle, will go through ten or eleven
paperbacks, and lodge, slightly misshapen, in the twelfth paperback. Don’t try
that at home in your bedroom, kids…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">That would have made real mess of my head, wouldn’t
it. Not that it wasn’t pretty messed up at the time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Right?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I was at a gas bar downtown a few years ago, and some
woman in the checkout line was talking to me. I had no idea of who it was, I
didn’t recognize her until she started talking about my old man—she’d seen the
obituary, and she called him Big Frank.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah, she was real sad to see him go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It was her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">She was dying her hair, but then all women of a
certain age are dying their hair.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">She had dentures, at least on the uppers…it was
winter, but she seemed a bit scrawny to me, frail, maybe.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">She was like real glad to see me, and for the life of
me, I could not think of one damned intelligent thing to say.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I couldn’t even think of anything stupid to say, which
is definitely not like me—I’m usually pretty good at that sort of thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">But.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">To think I almost killed myself over that girl.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Fuck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Louis has <a href="https://www.everand.com/author/251470381/Louis-Shalako" target="_blank">books and stories available from Everand, </a>a
new ebook and audiobook platform.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">See <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/louis-shalako" target="_blank">his art on Fine Art America.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Check out <a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">One
Million Words of Crap,</i> </a>an audio essay on independent, digital publishing,
in celebration of fourteen years here at Long Cool One Books.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/10/my-criminal-memoir-louis-shalako.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; font-size: 13pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir. (Part One).</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-two-great.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Two.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-three-escape.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Three.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-four-female.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Four.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-five-bicycles.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Five.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-six-women-louis.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Six.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-seven-liars.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seven.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eight-growing.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eight.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-nine-cocaine.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nine.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-ten-high-speed.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Ten.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eleven.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eleven.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/post-interstitial.g?blogspotURL=https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-twelve-groped.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twelve.</span></a> (Access restricted due
to content. 18+)</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-thirteen-new.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Thirteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-fourteen-hash.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fourteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-fifteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fifteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-sixteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Sixteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-seventeen-knock.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seventeen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-eighteen-those.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eighteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-nineteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nineteen. </span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty-one-joe.html" target="_blank">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-One</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Thank you for reading, and listening.</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-43832293060095897442023-12-11T17:22:00.003-05:002023-12-12T10:23:07.710-05:00My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty-One. Joe, and Strip Bars. Louis Shalako.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduI13op-gJnquSs1supk4wxvP75-nbNHTisW83M2GhiwEi7IpQ4zwLM-pji6N6bDlizKgfh7stRKyafmcFY1lkCKvmpt9d7aGcMcxBAsiqv-tWLsJVwsEp01HDuB1kM6c1Z5VHhmiiKAt6e_Tv5cqgDW2JS3rOf9pEusKEuJyuAdNdZKPADJHRD1cuhs/s800/Sunfish_rigged_for_sailing.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduI13op-gJnquSs1supk4wxvP75-nbNHTisW83M2GhiwEi7IpQ4zwLM-pji6N6bDlizKgfh7stRKyafmcFY1lkCKvmpt9d7aGcMcxBAsiqv-tWLsJVwsEp01HDuB1kM6c1Z5VHhmiiKAt6e_Tv5cqgDW2JS3rOf9pEusKEuJyuAdNdZKPADJHRD1cuhs/w480-h640/Sunfish_rigged_for_sailing.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A plastic boat, but at least it went where you pointed it...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Joe, and strip bars. Joe was a typical example of the
low-level drug dealer. He had a job. He had a few connections, to the extent
that he always had dope, one way or another. He ended up marrying my
girlfriend’s older sister, in a ceremony held right here in Sarnia, although
the couple lived in Guelph.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">They’d already had a baby, I have to admit, the kid
was pretty cute…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">She clearly took after her mother, and not Joe—<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The first time I ever took the train, and went up to
Guelph to visit my girlfriend, Joe had left us a bit of pot. The girls were going to university, sharing an apartment, and since he had a
place of his own, we had the place to ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Joe had a Hungarian accent. It’s an interesting story,
just how he came to Canada. In Hungary, part of the Eastern Bloc back then,
they had compulsory military service. Joe and another 18 year-old ended up
guarding the border. They weren’t so much trying to keep people out, but trying
to keep their own people in. They were supposed to walk up and down, rifles on
their shoulders, and at some point, a corporal came along to check on them.
They were standing there, smoking and chatting and the guy gave them proper
shit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">When he went away again, they figured they had more of
that coming when their shift was over.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This is when they got the bright idea, what with being
young and all, to drop the weapons, to take their fates in their own hands—and
to start walking west.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Joe had pot, three or four different kinds. He was the
guy who had ‘beans’, dropping one or two to dissolve in his coffee, first thing
in the morning, before heading off to work. He worked at Rockwell
International, assembling power tools and the like on piecework. I’m not sure
if these were genuine speed, <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amphetamine" target="_blank">(amphetamines),</a></i>
or something similar like Benzedrine sulphate or ephedrine sulfate, or
whatever. It sounds strange, but in places like Ohio, you could buy them at any
truck stop—over the counter, big plastic jars at roughly $20.00 per thousand.
These were compound pills, a bit of this, a bit of caffeine, a bit of something
else to keep you going through the long hours of the night…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">(Benzedrine was </span></i><i><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">a brand name for
amphetamine sulfate</span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">. It was used to treat many different
conditions from the early 1930s to the 1970s. Misuse of the drug eventually led
to a major decrease in production and tighter control of the drug by 1971.
Today, amphetamine is used to treat ADHD, narcolepsy, and obesity. – ed.) </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay, thanks, Ed. Reading that, we probably all did
speed in one form or another, although I’ve never injected anything—that was
probably for the best, looking back, ah, through the mists of time and all.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">So.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">He had five-gram vials of weed and hash oil, he had
hash occasionally. In the late seventies and early eighties, cocaine and all of
that lay some ways in the future, one must assume—none of us were doing it at
the time, as far as I know. Sisters being sisters, and buddies being buddies,
we visited back and forth.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILc2GcTV_Ti__KdD8q0WJzslB9GUEzUOVQB-kWO95K-a6LhFxhEBlznEICqEMol8jNlyG3CYyNTx17xIOi_wlftZQe7hJuxi9S3qyubf877Nwwu9ScvbXJRHwMPCb2vg4BJy9tohm4HgEW09wzrKw-PQ4hrwu07-r8mQBQ_gpaclUeN2lb1F14wBYiYg/s854/gettyimages-1365164682-1024x1024.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="854" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILc2GcTV_Ti__KdD8q0WJzslB9GUEzUOVQB-kWO95K-a6LhFxhEBlznEICqEMol8jNlyG3CYyNTx17xIOi_wlftZQe7hJuxi9S3qyubf877Nwwu9ScvbXJRHwMPCb2vg4BJy9tohm4HgEW09wzrKw-PQ4hrwu07-r8mQBQ_gpaclUeN2lb1F14wBYiYg/w640-h478/gettyimages-1365164682-1024x1024.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speed tablets, by any other name, in one size, shape or another...</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">And so it was, that we found ourselves sleeping in a
spare room, in the summer of about 1979.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Joe left the plant for an hour at lunch time. He
phoned home, and picked me up—we’re already burning daylight as far as lunch
hour goes, but the plant was nearby and so was our destination. I recall that
it was the Manor. A well-known strip bar in Guelph at that time, and an
oversexed individual like Joe knew it well.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This was my first time at a strip bar, and of course,
Joe had to burn a joint in the car on the way there. We stepped out for
another, just outside a rear entrance, and in between him buying lap dances and
one for me too, incidentally, as my birthday was coming up…<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">this is where he told me that he whacked off once a
week, just to maintain his independence, as he put it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">And of course, he has to get back to work, in which
case we burn another joint on the way back. This is the guy who worked two
blocks from home. At some point, some guy he knew sold him a case of small
bottles of laughing gas—and as a friend, one wonders just how far all of this
shit is going to go. He’s literally zipping home on his fifteen minute coffee breaks,
just to have a little sip of that gas bottle and get high before going back to
work. I suppose it’s no wonder that the marriage didn’t last all that long, and
before long, she was single, back home in Sarnia and with the little kid and
all.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">It struck me that Sarnia had three or four strip bars,
and I hadn’t been in any one of them—a situation that would surely be rectified
before long.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">As for Joe, those manufacturing jobs, small factories
in small towns at least here in southern Ontario, are a thing of the past. At
that time, Guelph was not much larger than Sarnia, if at all, and the biggest
thing it had going for it was the university, a bit of history and a kind of
hilly terrain, which I liked as where I live, it’s mostly flat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The bunch of us had gone camping one summer, up at
Cypress Lake on the Bruce Peninsula. Willy and his wife, Joe and his wife, and
my girlfriend and I. I had brought up a little sailboat, a fucking Sunfish,
about ten feet long and with a lateen sail. Willy had his wood and canvas
kayak, he and the wife going off to the other side of the lake to fuck in the
bushes and all of that sort of a thing, and Joe and his wife had borrowed what
was, after all, a pretty shitty little boat. It was more for kids, a fun day at
the beach, than any real serious sailboat. It was a plastic boat, and I at
least had life jackets.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">We’d been drinking wine, smoking pot, popping pills,
cooking bacon and eggs, hamburgers and hot-dogs on an open fire. Shooting the
shit and talking a lot of nonsense. We were lucky, in that the weather was
cooperating—more or less. We had boots and parkas, and we had cut-off jean
shorts and tee-shirts. We had the weekend to party.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I reckon my mother bought that little plastic boat for
about ninety-nine dollars on sale, put it on layaway at the department store
toy department, and presented it to us all on Christmas morning, which is the
way such things were done back then…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ll be honest with you, ladies and gentlemen, all
they really did, insofar as boating is concerned, was to go across to the other
side of the lake and fuck in the bushes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I think it’s safe to say Joe was <i>inspired </i>by that little boat. The possibilities were endless,
although not quite infinite.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I have no idea of what that crazy Hungarian bastard
was thinking—but the next time we went up to visit, he’d bought this horrible
old contraption. To call it a boat would be to insult a hundred thousand years
of boat evolution. This thing was a wedge-shaped slab, made of a couple of
sheets of three-quarters inch plywood, a big block of white Styrofoam, a
two-by-four for a mast, and a fucking white bedsheet for a sail…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Let me back up a bit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay, we’re staying the weekend, my lovely girlfriend
and I, she and the sister are going off somewhere and Joe and I are going down
the road in his Austin Marina, and he’s teaching me how it’s possible to drive,
and to roll a joint at the same time, what with holding the wheel with his left
knee and balancing a small rolling tray, dope, papers, scissors and a roach
clip on his lap while doing so.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">All the while, talking away in the high-pitched accent
that only foreign people can do so convincingly…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDi4SsrpLMUJ1sNJI_GaKfEO9oBE_rG1VhiDI38CJp2I3RqXeABkdYiuJWycyeQA3ZkJKapqoP_cxQZ0f5xYOPzPxyGAXRLKCG4g2y7sThyARei2GOCli_riwc0NsfUL8y5eGX-4HXWoCg2dpbCTz5fWSNL9Sycu63NnnRHgmyK4XPrBjdLkr86UFmLIg/s640/sddefault.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDi4SsrpLMUJ1sNJI_GaKfEO9oBE_rG1VhiDI38CJp2I3RqXeABkdYiuJWycyeQA3ZkJKapqoP_cxQZ0f5xYOPzPxyGAXRLKCG4g2y7sThyARei2GOCli_riwc0NsfUL8y5eGX-4HXWoCg2dpbCTz5fWSNL9Sycu63NnnRHgmyK4XPrBjdLkr86UFmLIg/w640-h480/sddefault.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling a joint while we go down the road. </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">So, this fucking alleged boat has brackets. On the brackets, is a bench-like thingy. The one
and only seat is behind the boat, to the extent you have to reach between your
knees to hold the tiller, which is set into door hinges for pivots. There is no
safety clip, and the thing keeps floating up and out of the hinges, making the
boat uncontrollable…the actual rudder is cut from plywood, but even plywood has
a grain, and this guy has cut it ninety degrees all wrong. Try and turn the
boat, the rudder just bends. Joe had been just plain crazy enough to sign up
for a membership at a little ‘yacht’ club located on Guelph Lake, basically
just a flood control reservoir on the Speed River upstream from the city. These
were not yachts, they were <i>dinghies,</i>
all of them better than this piece of shit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This is where I caught my first glimpse of that
fucking shit-shingle of a so-called boat of his. Neither one of us had
life-jackets; what we did have was a six-pack of strong beer and a cigarette
pack, each of us, with a few doobs. Fuck. What are you supposed to do. <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Here’s a funny thing. If your boat is shaped like a
wedge of cheese, then the front of the boat has essentially no flotation. Also,
any proper sailboat has a keel. Whether it’s a dagger-board, or a drop keel, or
a fixed keel, some kind of keel is essential to keep the boat from just drifting
sideways in the wind. A proper rudder and keel are also essential, this is
especially true if you are hoping to tack into the wind—for example getting
back to the club on Guelph Lake.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The wind was at our back as we drifted downwind across
that little lake.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The flat deck of that boat was absolutely level with
the mean surface of the water, with the two of us aboard—whatever teeny-tiny
little waves the gentle breeze was raising actually broke across the desk and
passed over our bare feet unimpeded; but by this time there was no going back…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNGcWKvSBQYw7JFnwVsiKDJFLQ8a9_CtBsK-R4CrEB-j_0ymW2fCj5bKjbW3WW1dBP1uEaugDw4oalgnB8kFd7TBUFWVJW5acFiOeIYYWt6vLGtXeJka3oE30SWsEJ3sxomgfZp56Dv0GhKG9LzBq3vff6vPamZcWaYOlUu4tj56jjFvBg7GxOqoa7l0/s1258/Screenshot%202023-12-11%20155244.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="1258" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNGcWKvSBQYw7JFnwVsiKDJFLQ8a9_CtBsK-R4CrEB-j_0ymW2fCj5bKjbW3WW1dBP1uEaugDw4oalgnB8kFd7TBUFWVJW5acFiOeIYYWt6vLGtXeJka3oE30SWsEJ3sxomgfZp56Dv0GhKG9LzBq3vff6vPamZcWaYOlUu4tj56jjFvBg7GxOqoa7l0/w640-h412/Screenshot%202023-12-11%20155244.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We ended up in the right arm of the lake, unable to maneuver our shit-shingle.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The boat could not be maneuvered. The boat could not
be steered, the boat was fucking useless, the boat was driftwood on the wind
and the waves. We’re getting farther and farther away from the club, at first
it’s okay as we’re sipping cold beers and burning a joint, smoking cigarettes
and sort of celebrating being <i>men,</i>
somewhat stupid for all of that, but <i>men,</i>
after all—<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Once we’ve run out of room in what is a pretty small
lake, on the downwind end of things, Joe turns her around and begins to tack
into the wind, only problem is, she just ain’t going to go. We’re in a
constricted arm of the lake, there are narrows, and this is there the headwinds
are strongest. This thing ain’t ever going to tack into the wind, and this is
about where I abandoned ship, dove overboard, and swam ashore.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Come what may, almost anything was better than this,
and I have to admit, there were still a couple of cold beers in a box screwed
to the deck just at the base of the mast.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what happens when a stoner, but also some kind
of an idiot, buys a boat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what you get when you spend half a bag of pot
on a boat…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">When I opened my eyes, the water was green. I had
maybe seventy-five, a hundred metres of algae-ridden shit ahead of me, and
then, dry land. I got to a patch or band of real seaweed, tangled green shitty
stuff that clung all over me, and then, having fought my way through it, I
waded up the bank through the weeds and the long grass and found myself
barefoot beside what passed for a highway back at that time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m sure all you readers and listeners have a pretty
good idea of what roadside gravel looks like, and I walked in the hot sun,
slowly drying, along the highway for a couple of kilometres. Luckily, I had a
head for navigation, looking at the map, there are side-roads off to one side, and
then there is the club at the end of another long gravel stretch.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">At this point, I pulled out my smoke-pack, laid my
lighter, a few joints, and a few damp cigarettes out on a rock in the wan
sunlight, and waited for that crazy Hungarian bastard, who took forever to get
out of the mouth of that little bay, work his way back five or six hundred
metres, the sun falling towards the horizon and the wind eventually dying off
in the fading light of late evening.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I
still miss that shirt</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">, it had two large upper pockets and
Velcro fasteners…just a minor point, ladies and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah. Joe was pissed off at me, but there was no way
that fucking shit-shingle of a boat would have ever gotten the two of us back
across that lake. My feet didn’t hurt too much, and it had taken him so long,
we managed to get a joint to burn, and I have to admit, I bummed one or two of
his smokes on the way home, which was a fairly quiet trip after all that fresh
air, hot sun and wind and surf on the face.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibG6y23UAmw_R1S3vXDsfn3V-plgKfJ5f_GnF0yhmqO8Bnsnjg4_JTWg73Yx8EDJb_kyLY9CIc8VzwLrS8Hb1pJbklicOVwmqNYqaIXrTBpyllfrlyo3bPBilc4eaD6krTiQm-E_dcvRIxso08WbE61LIHSJVdh-XKPhREMTLemXJQAi3xzwvnliLahBI/s380/depositphotos_2347194-stock-photo-stripper-pole.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="380" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibG6y23UAmw_R1S3vXDsfn3V-plgKfJ5f_GnF0yhmqO8Bnsnjg4_JTWg73Yx8EDJb_kyLY9CIc8VzwLrS8Hb1pJbklicOVwmqNYqaIXrTBpyllfrlyo3bPBilc4eaD6krTiQm-E_dcvRIxso08WbE61LIHSJVdh-XKPhREMTLemXJQAi3xzwvnliLahBI/w640-h424/depositphotos_2347194-stock-photo-stripper-pole.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">He's got an audiobook, <i><a href="https://books.apple.com/ca/audiobook/speak-softly-my-love-the-inspector-gilles-maintenon/id1546678462" target="_blank">Speak Softly My Love,</a></i> on iTunes. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">Poor old Louis Shalako <a href="https://books.apple.com/ca/author/louis-shalako/id709949458?see-all=books" target="_blank">has books and stories available from iTunes.</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" target="_blank"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3778cd; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt; text-decoration-line: none;">his art on Art Pal.</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Grab yourself a free copy of </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt; text-decoration-line: none;">One Million Words of
Crap, available from Google Play.</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/10/my-criminal-memoir-louis-shalako.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; font-size: 13pt; text-decoration-line: none;"><br />
My Criminal Memoir. (Part One).</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-two-great.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Two.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-three-escape.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Three.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-four-female.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Four.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-five-bicycles.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Five.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-six-women-louis.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Six.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-seven-liars.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seven.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eight-growing.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eight.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-nine-cocaine.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nine.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-ten-high-speed.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Ten.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eleven.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eleven.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/post-interstitial.g?blogspotURL=https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-twelve-groped.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twelve.</span></a> (Access restricted due
to content. 18+)</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-thirteen-new.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Thirteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-fourteen-hash.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fourteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-fifteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fifteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-sixteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Sixteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-seventeen-knock.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seventeen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-eighteen-those.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eighteen.</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-nineteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nineteen. </span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-twenty.html" target="_blank">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Thank you for reading, and listening.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p><br /></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5296074798930256483.post-39018308459889697212023-12-10T14:48:00.003-05:002023-12-10T16:58:49.187-05:00My Criminal Memoir, Part Twenty. Pilfering. Louis Shalako.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5XtVfUFwl2gMysunZFI6npjKF4k-Kef5cX9wtgC-J1ovW_-Jg5_ZLyDLxm-reMTaaIx6RgGN9g_46MQQDT5x1fG7JS1WpDxergMi3mm4bHixGaar9ILnnKbNkl6MhegbU7_Ge_KXHUzTQhtPCiEh4sSVR3kAxBVLmLItkPhYQR7C5u0z8kotzgkYFBI/s612/gettyimages-1177387587-612x612.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5XtVfUFwl2gMysunZFI6npjKF4k-Kef5cX9wtgC-J1ovW_-Jg5_ZLyDLxm-reMTaaIx6RgGN9g_46MQQDT5x1fG7JS1WpDxergMi3mm4bHixGaar9ILnnKbNkl6MhegbU7_Ge_KXHUzTQhtPCiEh4sSVR3kAxBVLmLItkPhYQR7C5u0z8kotzgkYFBI/w640-h426/gettyimages-1177387587-612x612.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">$110.00 worth of meat, in 1977 dollars...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Louis Shalako</p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Pilfering. In the world of work, the criminal
instincts are sort of subsumed by the need to keep a job, to earn a paycheque,
and to stay out of trouble. To the average worker, this means to avoid anything
that would bring discredit to the employer, to avoid anything that would tend
to lose a contract or a renewal. This was a secondary consideration. Simply
put, if one must pilfer, it is best not to get caught. Stealing from the
customer is as bad as stealing directly from the employer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">These attitudes aren’t exactly universal. At C.H.
Heist, serving Chemical Valley with high pressure water-blasting, industrial
vacuum and sandblasting services, I worked the vacuum side. The foreman on the
water side asked me if I wanted to work a shift. Honestly, I should have said
no, but I was still short of hours, and only working sporadically. You needed
six hundred hours to get into the union.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I asked him for a pair of rubber boots, size thirteen
and some fresh face-shields for our helmets. The fucking goof (Mokey), asked me, ‘can’t
you just steal that from Dow?’ I ended up jamming my feet into size twelve
rubber boots and used a scratched-up face-shield that I could barely see
through. And that was the <i>foreman—</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">A guy I worked with, who seemed like a pretty good
bloke, Steve, was in the union. He’d been there some years. He had a house. He
was an operator on a vacuum truck, for that you need the airbrake
certification, whether that be DZ or AZ, I don’t really know the difference.
Admittedly, he could get a good job driving a big truck pretty much anywhere,
and yet he’d invested a certain amount of his time with Heist, and probably
expected to retire out of there someday, far in the future, with his house paid
off, his pension maxed out by contributions, often matched at some rate by one’s
employer. A pretty sweet set-up, assuming this is what you want to do for the
next twenty-five or thirty years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Steve was seen. Steve was seen at the plant—probably
Dow, possibly somewhere else. Someone made a quick phone call to the shop, laid
on a pretty strong complaint. Someone was watching when poor old Steve brought
the rig back to the shop after another long day…someone caught him red-handed.
Steve lost his job, ladies and gentlemen, over three boxes of disposable paper
coveralls, stolen from Dow, which he dragged out of the rig and stuffed into
the trunk of his car, before even heading into the building to turn in reports,
take off the boots and get instructions or orders for the next day. For the
sake of a hundred and fifty dollars of disposable coveralls, he lost a pretty
good job in an instant. To put that into perspective, the real overtime hogs,
working twelve-hour shifts, seven days a week, plus the odd hours here and
there—some guys literally slept in their truck and pulled 24 and 36-hour ‘shots’,
well. They were pulling down $70,000.00 a year, and getting three weeks paid
vacation a year once they’d been there long enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuM29qfOtp26CMPSZ_uCUtZT2GlFy8viTkgJfkPcIfvLD_II5jPwNdoxuBe0kXaXoSDV_NBDmzqfeSbajQTYirCQzYLQZwv4IPhJh9ggtPaw-67G6La3thRta3s-77J1TQ3y1RQMBneG1Wd2ulZnOMo98BnP7bK-ACRn7mAZ1wYFhTL29qzdqB__bkcJo/s1024/51fOto-dmnL.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuM29qfOtp26CMPSZ_uCUtZT2GlFy8viTkgJfkPcIfvLD_II5jPwNdoxuBe0kXaXoSDV_NBDmzqfeSbajQTYirCQzYLQZwv4IPhJh9ggtPaw-67G6La3thRta3s-77J1TQ3y1RQMBneG1Wd2ulZnOMo98BnP7bK-ACRn7mAZ1wYFhTL29qzdqB__bkcJo/w400-h400/51fOto-dmnL.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let's hope it was worth it, eh...</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Some of us would have killed for that sort of a job;
that sort of money. That sort of future. Steve was just dumb.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Still trying to finish off my Grade 12 at Lambton
College, I got a part-time job at the Hallmark Auto Centre, a concessionaire of
the old Woolco department store chain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I did oil and filter changes. I put grease in the
differentials of vehicles, I greased ball joints, which was still a thing back
then. I did air filters and PCV valves, fuel filters, and I did tires. I put
new tires on, rotated tires, changed from snow tires to regular and back again.
I learned how to fix a flat, which I have done on my own tires in the years
since. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">What was I getting? Minimum wage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">When I got out of school, at least I had a full-time
job, which was enough to keep the old man off of my back for a while.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">The sheer convenience meant that I bought a case of
oil. I bought tires, the boss sort of appreciates that. I bought a few tools
from the retail section outside the garage proper. Yet when he wasn’t around,
we did sort of roam around in the stock room. If I needed four spark plugs, I
probably grabbed them. I had a pair of quartz halogen bulbs, still in the
package, in the toolbox for many years. I never got around to converting the MG
to higher-powered lighting. Nowadays, it’s almost as if car headlights are too
bright, well, not back then—British electrics of the day being what they were.
There comes a day, when you’re asked to come in on your day off, and help out
with the yearly inventory. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">With a slightly guilty conscience, one had to wonder
if there was a little more to it than that, and if maybe there was some sort of
a hint being dropped…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">But some guys were real bad at pilfering. Guys with
wives and kids and good jobs, and they just can’t seem to help it. That
temptation is there, and some of them absolutely abuse it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Willy had his welding ticket by this time, and he helped
me to get in at Bice Specialties, which sold and serviced industrial doors,
residential garage doors, and steel doors and frames for the construction
industry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I mostly worked with Pete, who had exactly one year of
experience, whereas I walked in the door with zero experience, other than some
minimal mechanical experience. For six bucks an hour, which was better than
minimum wage, what do you expect. I was a helper, and Pete had a temper. I
could keep my cool, but he had the responsibility when we were out on a job. I
imagine he felt the pressure, with a wife and a kid and a home in the Sherwood
Park area of town.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Pete had the pilfering instinct real bad.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Fuck, at some point, you lose patience with the guy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">We’re at some warehouse at the back of a big refinery
in Chemical Valley. I’m taking the ladders off the truck, I’m shaking out
extension cords and opening up the tool bins, I’ve got my tape measure, I’m
checking out the door opening, and checking out the door sections to see if
this thing’s going to fit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Where the hell is Pete? Going up and down the aisles
in this deserted building, dusty old shelves full of…valves. Flanges. Gaskets,
little boxes with bits of hardware and boxes of one-inch bolts for bolting big
pipelines and valves together. Racks and racks of electrical conduit, pipes of
various sizes, rack after rack after rack…of nothing he could use.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">For fuck’s sakes, Pete, what do you expect to find
back there?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXd-rD3TVgdEZTypiBorDro39rf8c8WAudDK_OhqiCr2_hSczFErA5rB52I0CV0tgnJ3XZA5JBUvlS1ENsKpkbx8b009AZ64Px0UkfiUf7kehkVvetoo8qB1DgRfws3YrbM9l9-qG1ss6ym-ziexpjgUNHF_hwi4fHO5ZrXFL5cLGsjVc6lqjqp8ZhaNw/s1388/Screenshot%202023-12-10%20135530.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1388" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXd-rD3TVgdEZTypiBorDro39rf8c8WAudDK_OhqiCr2_hSczFErA5rB52I0CV0tgnJ3XZA5JBUvlS1ENsKpkbx8b009AZ64Px0UkfiUf7kehkVvetoo8qB1DgRfws3YrbM9l9-qG1ss6ym-ziexpjgUNHF_hwi4fHO5ZrXFL5cLGsjVc6lqjqp8ZhaNw/w640-h368/Screenshot%202023-12-10%20135530.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was called The Georgian, back in the day. We had the end unit on the left.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Pete is stealing a four-foot pipe wrench, not so much
because he needed one, or had much use for one in our work. No, it was the only
thing he actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">recognized,</i> ladies
and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">All the plants had their colour codes—the tools are
painted in the company colours, and on your way out the gate, you’re just
praying that the security guards don’t ask to have a look in the bins or behind
the seat of your pickup truck…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Pete hardly qualified as a criminal—those guys at
least had some sense, a lot of the time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Pete had no sense at all, and it was only luck that he
never got caught at it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">When we were about eighteen my girlfriend and I moved
in together. We had a townhouse on Indian Road, two bedrooms, a basement, with
a laundry room. So, we had a fridge, a stove, a washer and a dryer. A bathroom
upstairs and a half-bath down below.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Johnny agreed to take a bedroom and help out with the
rent. I was working at Fibreglas, making pretty good money for an eighteen
year-old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">My girlfriend worked in the ladies wear at a local
department store, and Johnny worked at Dominion Grocery Store, at Eastland Plaza
on Indian Road South.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Theoretically, we should have been able to make it,
but we were young. We liked to drink, to eat, to smoke, and to party…it is also
true that Fibreglas Canada would lay me off when orders, and hence work, were
short. If the line’s going to be down, even for a few days, it’s kind of
expensive to keep forty guys standing around, and the best thing is a temporary
layoff. The unemployment people downtown certainly understood this, and they
didn’t push you to go look for another job when you clearly would be going back
in the immediate future…only real problem, was the delay. Your last paycheque
might have had only a few days on it, and your first pogy cheque can’t come in
for two or three weeks, and that one might be only for one week anyways, at
whatever the rate: sixty percent of earnings, nowadays it might even be lower,
fifty-five percent or whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Fuck, it’s not like any of us had any savings, ladies
and gentlemen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">So, poor old Johnny calls me up one night. He’s
stocking shelves on the night shift for like $2.85 per hour, for crying out loud…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Check outside the back door, behind the trash
compactor,</i> he says, hanging up just as abruptly.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbO60WJndySDsqdxNkmGfl8hDP8rXRP1RqPcNkU5hMDRs7jlPg50iYOLV-IdelnWxAf83T8jafRQzhpgzi0vLRcTemji0sIPWBTOZ2855R-v8xmMHYDDSw9k0bbxgYgLxXU2v-Lho2iQdJlzMMT8YrIjSRoQVstNCHhuwYt9M3ENYY6xW4PNHMcL65Vg/s1300/16622595-mixed-grapes-in-a-wooden-crate-box-isolated-on-a-white-background.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1299" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbO60WJndySDsqdxNkmGfl8hDP8rXRP1RqPcNkU5hMDRs7jlPg50iYOLV-IdelnWxAf83T8jafRQzhpgzi0vLRcTemji0sIPWBTOZ2855R-v8xmMHYDDSw9k0bbxgYgLxXU2v-Lho2iQdJlzMMT8YrIjSRoQVstNCHhuwYt9M3ENYY6xW4PNHMcL65Vg/w400-h400/16622595-mixed-grapes-in-a-wooden-crate-box-isolated-on-a-white-background.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"...check outside the back door," says Johnny.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, I can take a hint. I take the car down to the
alley behind the store. Setting the handbrake, leaving the lights on, the car
idling away, I step out and holy, fuck. There’s a wooden crate with green
grapes. Full. I have to admit, I like grapes, and so we took them. I forget who
was with me, probably Willy or my brother The Duke. Twenty-five pounds of fucking
grapes, and I reckon we shared them around as best we could—yes, Johnny got
some too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">A few days later, the guy’s grabbed a case of tins of
cashews…fuck, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> cashews. These
were a premium brand. Okay, one morning he comes home, looking proud of himself,
and he’s lugging a big cardboard box. He’s gotten a hundred and ten dollars’
worth of meat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">We all know this can’t last, and one must admit, this
is no way to sustain any kind of household, a point that I have made in a
previous chapter. It’s all right for a while. But sooner or later, Johnny was
going to get caught, and I reckon we told him that, and I also reckon he got
it. But my girlfriend’s older sister had also broken off with Johnny. Now he’s
sharing a house with us, we’re fucking like minks and he’s just down the hall…nothing
wrong with the poor guy’s hearing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Like many a thing, it has its natural lifespan, and
the arrangement was arguably doomed to fail anyways, bearing in mind our ages
and our levels of maturity. I’m not making any claims or comparisons there—it
was what it was, as they say.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">First, Johnny moves down to the basement, and within
two weeks, he announces he’s getting a lot of pressure from the old lady, she’s
all worried about him. And he’s moving back home. My girlfriend’s parents are
putting on the pressure as well—they’re willing to help out if she wants to go
to university, ah, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">first,</i> young
lady—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, ladies and gentlemen. My girlfriend’s moving back
home to her parents’ house.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Not that it really changed things, we were together
for seven years all told. As for the place on Indian Road, we were in and out
of there in about three months.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">By this time, I was back at work, of course—and back
in my dad’s basement, as well.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEUMr9xoHQaUgIJz5Tac_oM7DT6d_2dQFgjX3itQKJWLzp0ToGFnb_s2w-m-UhK1IAwYUTudBsNrF2MX4pce2VnKLqBZAmfEqxsJq5DdrStWdIelA8twpmIq77vMUIaMBVEtCe9WPAm2rQZ1mZhdECqfR7MkLi56R__An1nyWLrUmwVs4xQgvHtVuL50/s941/Screenshot%202023-12-10%20135951.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="762" data-original-width="941" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEUMr9xoHQaUgIJz5Tac_oM7DT6d_2dQFgjX3itQKJWLzp0ToGFnb_s2w-m-UhK1IAwYUTudBsNrF2MX4pce2VnKLqBZAmfEqxsJq5DdrStWdIelA8twpmIq77vMUIaMBVEtCe9WPAm2rQZ1mZhdECqfR7MkLi56R__An1nyWLrUmwVs4xQgvHtVuL50/s320/Screenshot%202023-12-10%20135951.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">When I worked at the Delhi News-Record, circa 1984,
when it was time to quit, the last thing I did, was to open up the supply
locker and grab a half a dozen rolls of film. I suppose it was illegal. I
suppose it was simply unnecessary, I just did it. I had a few rolls of Ilford
HP-5, and a few of the HP-4, black and white 35-mm films.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t even know why I did it. I had been cut off at
the motel where I had lived for a few months, I had been sleeping in my car. At
the motel, I paid off the bill, no problem there—but he just didn’t want to do
it any longer. I couldn't pay in advance...can’t say as I blame the man for that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I had been making $210.00 a week…I suppose I didn’t
need a reason, I just did it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeah, I took my key off the ring, left it on the
editor’s desk, along with a brief note.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Unlocking the window, I raised it, stepped across the
sill, and let her down again quietly in the night. <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">An interesting point: I could have locked the front
door, but only from the outside. I would still have the damned key, wouldn’t I.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">I got in my MGB and drove home to Sarnia, with a
couple of suits, a small gym bag, and whatever dignity I could muster…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">That,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">
is a fairly long story and this isn’t the place to tackle it, not by a long
shot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">END<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;">Louis Shalako has <a href=" https://www.amazon.ca/Shape-Shifters-Louis-Shalako-ebook/dp/B005HQXWRK/ref=sr_1_5?qid=1702234047&refinements=p_27%3ALouis+Shalako&s=books&sr=1-5&text=Louis+Shalako" target="_blank">books and stories available from Amazon.</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;">See </span><a href="https://www.artpal.com/louisbshalako" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none; text-underline: none;">his art on
Art Pal.</span></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Grab yourself a free copy of </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details?id=AQAAAEASZFYkVM" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">One Million Words of
Crap, available from Google Play.</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 17.3333px;">Check out </span><i style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 17.3333px;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2012/10/working-with-pete-short-story.html" target="_blank">Working With Pete,</a></i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 17.3333px;"> right here on this blog.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 17.3333px;">See <i><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/315026" target="_blank">The Note,</a></i> by Ian W. Cooper.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/10/my-criminal-memoir-louis-shalako.html" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13pt;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration-line: none;">My Criminal Memoir. (Part One).</span></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-two-great.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Two.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-three-escape.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Three.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-four-female.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Four.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-five-bicycles.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Five.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-six-women-louis.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Six.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-seven-liars.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seven.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eight-growing.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eight.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-nine-cocaine.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nine.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-ten-high-speed.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Ten.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-eleven.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eleven.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/post-interstitial.g?blogspotURL=https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-twelve-groped.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Twelve.</span></a> (Access restricted due
to content. 18+)</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-thirteen-new.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Thirteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/11/my-criminal-memoir-part-fourteen-hash.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fourteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-fifteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Fifteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-sixteen.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Sixteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-seventeen-knock.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Seventeen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-eighteen-those.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3778cd; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">My Criminal Memoir, Part Eighteen.</span></a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><a href="https://shalakopublishing.blogspot.com/2023/12/my-criminal-memoir-part-nineteen.html" target="_blank">My Criminal Memoir, Part Nineteen. </a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Thank you for reading, and listening.</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #444444; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Louis Shalakohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17535102837963410061noreply@blogger.com0