 The Puttnum Tradition by S. Dorman. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Chris Gojinha. The Puttnum Tradition by S. Dorman. Through generations, the power has descended, now weaker, now stronger. In which way did the power run in the four-year-old in the garden, playing with a pipe plate? It was an old house, not far from the coast, and had descended generation by generation to the women of the Puttnum family. Progress literally went by it. A new four-lane highway had been built 200 yards from the ancient lilacs at the doorstep. Long before that, in the time of Cecilic Puttnum's husband, power lines had been run in, and now on cold nights the telephone wires sounded like a concert of cellophs. While in sight, with the sound like the breaking of Beatles, the grandmother Cecilic moved through the walls in the grooves of tradition. Simone Puttnum, her granddaughter. Nina Puttnum, her great-granddaughter. The unbroken succession of matriarchs continued, but times the old woman thought that in Simone was weakened. She looked at the four-year-old Nina as tense, waiting, waiting for some good sign. Sometimes one of the Puttnum women had given birth to a son who grew sickly and died, or less often grew healthy and flat. The husbands were usually strangers to the land, the house, and the women, and spent a lifetime with the long-lived Puttnum wives and died, leaving their strange signs, telephone wires, electric lights, water pumps, brass plumbing. Sam Harris came and married Simone, bringing with him an invasion of washer, dryer, toaster, mixer, coffee master, until the current pour through the walls of the house with more vigour than the blood in the old woman's veins. You don't approve of them, Simone said to her grandmother. It's his trade, Sesley Puttnum answered. Our men have been carpenters, or farmers, or even school masters, but an engineer. Simone was washing the dishes, gazing out across the windowsill, where two pink-and-white murex shells stood, to the tidy garden beyond where Nina was engaged in her private games. She dried the dishes by passing her hand once above each plate or glass, bringing it into a dry sparkle. He saved wearing the dish towels, and an amuse her. Sam's not home very much, she said in a placating voice. She herself had grown terrified since her marriage that she wouldn't be able to bear the weight of her past. She felt its power in her and couldn't carry it. Sesley had brought it up after her father had disappeared and her mother had died in an unexplained accident. Daily she saw the reflection of her failure in the face of her grandmother, seen built of the same seasoned and secure wood as the old Puttnum house. Simone looked at her grandmother when she loved and became a mere vapor. He's not home so much, Simone said. Her face was small, with a pointed chin, and she had golden red hair when she wore loose on her shoulders. Nina too had a small face, but it was neither so pale nor so delicate as her mother's. As if Sam's tougher substance had filled her out and strengthened her bone structure. If it was true that she, Simone, was a weak link, then Sam's strength might have poured into the child and there would be no more Puttnum family in tradition. People don't change that easily, would woman said. But things, Simone began. The China, which had a history of five generations, slipped out of her hands and smashed. Sam's toaster wouldn't toast her pop-up. Simone couldn't even use a telephone or fear of getting a wrong number or no number at all. Things, things, her grandmother cried. It's blood that counts. If the blood is strong enough, things dissolve. They're just garbage, all those things, floating on the surface of our history. It's our history that's steep. That's what counts. You're afraid of Sam, the young woman accused. Not afraid of any man, Cecily said, straightening her back. But I'm afraid for the child. Sam has no family tradition, no depth, no talent handed down and perfected. A man with his head full of wheels and wires. Simone loved him. She leaned on him and grew about him. And he supported her tenderly. She wasn't going to give him up for the sake of some abstract tradition. It's not abstract, her grandmother said with spirit. It's senior blood. Or why don't you sweep the floors the way other women do? The way Sam's mother must. Simone had begun to clean the house where she was thinking. Moving her hand horizontally across the floor. In the height of her hip. The dust was following the motion of her hand and moving in a small, sun-brightened river towards a trash basket in the kitchen corner. Now Simone raised her hand to her face to look at it. The river of dust rose like a serpent and hung a foot below her hand. Yes, she agreed. At least I can clean the house. If I don't touch the good china and look where I'm going. The old woman said again, angrily. Don't feel so sorry for yourself. Not for myself. Simone mumbled. And looked again towards the garden where her daughter was doing something with three stones and a pipe plate full of spring water. I do this pair of Nina, says what he said as she was said before. She's four and has no appearance, not even balance. She fell out of the apple-rose tree and couldn't even help herself. Suddenly the old woman thrust her face close to the granddaughter. It was smooth, round and sweet as a young kernel of corn. The eyes, sun-down under the bushy green brows were cold and clear gray. Simone, the old woman said. You didn't lie to me? You did know she was falling and couldn't get back in time to catch her? I showed her past through Simone's body. There was no blood in her veins, only water. No marrow in her bones. They were empty and porous as a bird's. Even the roots of her hair were weak. And now the sweat was starting out in her scalp as she faced her grandmother and saw the bristling shapes of seven generations of Putnam women behind her. You lied, the old woman said. You didn't know she was falling. Simone was a vapor, a mere fraught, blown away in the first breeze. My poor dear, the old woman said in a gentle voice. How could you marry someone like Sam? Don't you know what will happen? They'll dissolve us, our history, our talents, our pride. Nina is nothing but an ordinary little child. She's a good child, Simone said. Try not to be angry. She wanted her child to be loved, to be strong. Nina isn't a common child, she said, with her head bent. She's very bright. A man with his head full of wheels was at home with electricity and wires. The old woman went on. We've had them before, but never allowed them to dominate us. My own husband was such a man, but he was only allowed to make token gestures, such as having the power lines put in. He never understood how they worked. She lowered her voice to whisper. Your Sam understands. I've heard him talk to the water pump. That's why you're afraid of him, Simone said. Not because I'm weak and he might take something away from me, but because he's strong, and he might give us something. Then everything would change, and you're afraid of that. Nina might be our change. She pointed toward the garden. Following the white line of her granddaughter's finger, Cecily looked out into the garden and saw Nina turn toward him, as though she knew they were angry. The child pointed with one finger, directly at them in the house. It was a sharp crackle and something of a brilliant and vibrating blue leap between the outstretched fingers of mother and daughter, and flew up like a bird to the power lines above. Mommy, Nina called. Simone's heart nearly broke with wonder and fright. Her grandmother contemptuously passed through the kitchen door and emerged on the step outside, but Simone opened the door and left it open behind her. What was that? She asked Nina. Was it a bluebird? Don't be silly, Nina said. She picked up the pie plate and brought it toward them. Cecily's face was white and translucent. One hand went to her throat, as the child approached. Brim full of crackling blue fire with a fluctuating heart of yellow, the pie plate came toward them, held between Nina's small dusty hands. Nina screamed at them. I stole it out of the wires, she said. Simone thought she would faint, with a mixture of joy and fear. Put it back, she whispered. Please, put it back. Oh, Mommy, Nina said, beginning to whine. Not now, not right away. I just got it, I've done it lots of times. The pie plate crackled and hissed in the steady small hands. Simone could feel the old woman's shocked silence behind her. You must not carry even a pie plate. It's dangerous, Simone said to her child. But she could see Nina was in no danger. How often have you done this? She could feel her skirt and her hair billow with electricity. Lots of times. You don't like it, do you? She became teasing and roguish, and she looked most like Sam. Suddenly, she threw back her head and opened her mouth, and tilting up the pie plate, she drank it empty. She sprang out, crackling rays around her face. Her eyes flashed and spots flew out between her teeth before she closed her mouth. Nina, the old woman, cried, and began to crumble, falling slowly against Simone in a complete faint. Simone caught her trembling hands and loathed her gently. She said to her daughter, you mustn't do that in front of Grandi. You're a bad girl. You knew it wouldn't scare her. And to herself, she said, the child knows of me and silly. Oh, isn't it wonderful? Isn't it awful? Oh, Sam. How I love you. Daddy said I would scare you, Nina admitted. That's why I never showed you before. Her hair was softly falling to a place again, and she was gazing curiously and her great-grandmother lying in the doorstep. It did scare me, Simone said. I'm not used to it, Tarly, but don't keep it a secret anymore. Is Grandi asleep? Simone said hastily. Oh, yes, she's taking a nap. She's old, you know, and likes to take naps. That's not a nap, Nina said, leaning over and patting the old woman's cheek. I think she's having a bad dream. Simone carried her grandmother into the house. If that old tired heart had jumped and flouted like her own, it would have been so much done to it. If anything happened to her grandmother, the world would end, Simone thought. It was furious with Nina and at the same time, full of joy for her. Cecilic Putnam opened her eyes widely and Simone said, It does change, you see, but it's in the family, after all. The old woman set up right quickly. That wicked child, she exclaimed, to come and frighten us like that. She ought to be spanked. She got up with great strength and rushed out to the garden. Nina, she caught him fiercely. The child picked up one of the small stones from the pie plate and all full of spring water and came to her great-grandmother. I'll make something for you, Granny, she said seriously. She put the stone in the palm of her hand and breathed on it and then held out her hand and offered the diamond. It's lovely. Thank you. The old woman said with dignity and put her hand in the child's head. Let's go for a walk and I'll show you how to grow rose apples. That's more becoming to a young lady. You slept in the step. Ah, I'm old and I like to take little naps. Cecilic answered. Simone saw them disappear among the apple rose trees side by side. She was still trembling but gradually, as she passed her hand back and forth and the dust followed moving in a sparkling river towards the trash basket, Simone stopped trembling and began a smile with the natural pride of a Putnam woman. The end of The Putnam Tradition by S. Dorman. Such blooming talk by L. Major Reynolds. This is a LibriVox recording. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Dale Grossman. Henderson's lovely flowers were going to bring him fame until they walked and talked too much. Such blooming talk by L. Major Reynolds. The ringing of the doorbell cut into Henderson's concentration and he made a gesture of irritation with one outflung hand. But he didn't raise his head or shift his eye one iota from the tiny green thing on his laboratory table. Tensely absorbed, he stood watching the small miracle he had made and emotion approaching exaltation gripped him. He slid one hand toward a switch, never moving his eyes from the table. The infantessable movement of his hand increased the power-throb in the machine at his side so imperceptibly that only he was aware of it. Suddenly his breath exploded in what was almost a squeal of delight. The small plant on the table was with great effort extending a pair of tiny rootlets and was trying to use them to walk. As Henderson watched spellbound the sudden cessation of the doorbell's ring went unnoticed. He stood there willing with every cell of his body the miracle that would make the small plant of green take its first vital step. Slowly his struggle to an upright position stood waving. Henderson increased the power with a trembling hand and almost forgot to breathe as he waited for the miracle which followed. Several more rootlets abruptly appeared and now the plant balanced itself on the bare table. Then slowly as a long minute passed one of the roots made an uncertain step then another and another until it was walking unsteadily across the surface of the table. Henderson, his face, even his lips white with excitement now reached for another switch. Before turning it on he adjusted the tiny microphone on the edge of the table then he turned the screw switch. Instantaneously the laboratory was filled with rustling and there came a series of tiny squeaks that sounded strangely like a voice speaking. Henderson sat spellbound watching, listening the doorbell rang again but this time he didn't even hear it. Nothing could break the spell which held him in his seat before the first talking and walking plant the world had ever known. He picked up an alternative phase microphone and spoke into it. His voice issued from a tiny speaker beside the plant as a small whisper of itself. Man! his voice whispered. Man! He nearly yelled his delight as the small green thing echoed the word. He shut off the mic then got busy. He sat down and began to plant a vocabulary to educate his plant. When that was done he would stun the world with a demonstration of his genius. It was some time before he realized there was a ghost of a voice coming from some place in the room. He looked at the plant on the table but it was standing quintessent. Henderson stared around the laboratory frowning then a movement at the window caught his eye. His mother's prized uranium was struggling to free itself from the soil in the window-box and it was muttering. Henderson blushed as he made out some of the words that the flower was muttering. That plant had been in the room with him during his most dismal scientific failures and it evidently had a good memory. He watched wide-eyed as the plant struggled to lift its roots from the earth. One root finally came loose with an audible pop accompanied by a squeaky streak of profanity. Another and another root worked and suddenly the uranium was standing on the edge of the box its bright red blossom turned from side to side. There were no eyes visible but Henderson had the chilly feeling that the flower was surveying the room. Then after a moment the plant jumped to the sill of the window from there to the seat of the chair. Then it slid down one of the legs of the chair to the floor. It shook its leaves from the blossoms upward at the amazed Henderson frozen in his chair and a tiny squeaking voice said cheerily, "-Hi, pal!" Then it started across the floor toward the door muttering, "-Somebody's got to answer that damn doorbell!" Henderson's legs came unfrozen as it went through the doorway and he made a wild dash after the walking uranium. It was padding down the hall its roots making little padding sounds as he passed it. Henderson opened the door and only then did he begin to realize the scope his rays must have. He stood jaws agape looking down at the rose-bush which stood outside the door. His mouth opened and the words tried to come out but the bush spoke first. "-I have been ringing this bell for hours!" it said petulently. "-Some nasty boys have been picking my roses. I'm getting sore!" Henderson faded then and the last thing he remembered was the voice of the geranium saying "-Hi, babe! Come on in! I've been watching you for a long time!" The End of Such Blooming Talk by L. Major Reynolds The next logical step by Ben Bova This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Chris Gojinho The next logical step by Ben Bova Ordinarily the military least wants to have the others know the final details of their war plans but logically there would be times "-I don't really see what this problem has anything to do with me!" the CIA man said and frankly there are a lot of more important things I could be doing. Ford, the physicist, glanced at General Leroy. The general had that quizzical expression on his face, the look that meant he was about to do something decisive. "-Would you like to see the problem first-hand?" the general asked, innocently. The CIA man took a quick look at his wrist watch. "-Okay, if it doesn't take too long. It's late enough already." "-It won't take very long, will it Ford?" the general said, getting out of his chair. "-Not very long, Ford agreed. Only a lifetime." The CIA man grunted as they went to the doorway and left the general's office. Going down the dark, deserted hallway, their footsteps echoed holly. "-I can't overemphasize the seriousness of this problem." General Leroy said to the CIA man. Eight ranking members of the general staff had either resigned their commissions or gone straight to the violent ward after just one session with the computer. The CIA man scowled. "-Is this area secure?" General Leroy's face turned red. "-This entire building is as secure as any edifice in the free world, mister. And it's empty. We're the only living people inside here at this hour. I'm not taking any chances. "-Just want to be sure." "-Perhaps if I explain the computer a little more." Ford said, changing the subject. "-You'll know what to expect." "-Good idea," said the man from CIA. "-We told you that this is the most modern, most complex and delicate computer in the world. Nothing like it has ever been attended before. Anywhere." "-I know that they don't have anything like it." The CIA man agreed. "-And you also know, I suppose, that it was built to simulate actual war situations. We fight wars in this computer. Wars with missiles and bombs and gas. Real wars. Complete down to the tiniest detail. The computer tells us what will actually happen to every missile, every city, every man. Who dies? How many planes are lost? How many trucks will fail to start in the cold morning? Whether a battle is won or lost?" General Leroy interrupted. "-The computer run these analysis for both sides so we can see what's happening to them, too." The CIA man gestured impatiently. "-War game simulations aren't new. You've been doing them for years." "-Yes, but this machine is different," Ford pointed out. "-It not only gives a much more detail war game. It's the next logical step in the development of machine simulated war games." He hesitated dramatically. "-Well, what is it?" "-We've added a variation of the electroencephalograph." The CIA man stopped walking. "-The electro what?" "-Electroencephalograph. You know, a recording device that reads the electrical patterns of your brain, like the electrocardiograph." "-Oh, but you see, we've given the EEG a reverse twist. Instead of using a machine that makes a recording of the brain's electrical wave output, we've developed a device that will take the computer's weed out tapes and turn them into electrical patterns that are put into your brain." "-I don't get it." General Leroy took over. "-You set at the machine's control console. A helmet is placed over your head. You set the machine in operation. You see the results." "-Yes," Ford went on. "-Instead of reading rows of figures from the computer sprinter, you actually see the war being fought. Complete visual and auditory hallucinations. You can watch the progress of the battles, and as you change strategy and tactics, you can see the results before your eyes. The idea originally was to make it easier for the general staff to visualize strategic situations," General Leroy said. "-But everyone who's used the machine has either resigned his commission, or he's insane," Ford added. The CIA men cocked an eye at Leroy. "-You've used the computer?" "-Correct. And you have neither resigned nor cracked up." General Leroy nodded. "-I called you in." "-Before the CIA men could comment," Ford said. "-The computer is right inside this doorway. Let's get this over with, while the building is still empty." They stepped in. The physicists and the general showed the CIA men through the room-filling rows of massive consoles. "-It's all transistorized and subminiaturized, of course," Ford explained. "-That's the only way we could build so much detail into the machine, and still have it small enough to fit inside the single building." "-A single building? Oh yes, this is only the control section. Most of this building is taken up by the circuits, the memory banks, and the rest of it." "-Mmm-hmm." They showed him finally to a small desk, studded with control buttons and dials. The single spotlight above the desk lit it brilliantly, in harsh contrast to the semi-darkness of the rest of the room. "-Since you've never run the computer before," Ford said. "-General Leroy would do the controlling. You just sit and watch what happens." The general sat in one of the well-padded chairs and done the grotesque headgear that was connected to the desk by a half-dozen wires. The CIA man took his chairs slowly. When they put one of the bulky helmets on him, he looked up at them, squinting a little in the bright light. This isn't going to... well, do me any damage, is it? "-My goodness, no," Ford said. "-You mean mentally?" "-No, of course not. You're not in the general staff, so it shouldn't... It won't affect you the way it did the others. The reaction has nothing to do with the computer, per se." Several civilians have used the computer with no ill effects, General Leroy said. Ford has used it many times. The CIA man nodded and they closed the transparent visor over his face. He sat there and watched the general Leroy press a series of buttons, then turn the dial. "-Can you hear me?" The general's voice came muffled through the helmet. "-Yes," he said. "-All right, here we go. You're familiar with situation 121? That's what we're going to be seeing." Situation 121 was a standard war game. The CIA man was well acquainted with it. He watched the general flip a switch, then sit back and fold his arms over his chest. A roll of lights in the desk console began blinking on and off. One, two, three. Down to the end of the row, then back to the beginning again. On and off, on and off. And then, somehow, he could see it. He was poised incredibly, somewhere in space, and he could see it all in a funny, blurry double-sided dream-like way. He seemed to be seeing several pictures and hearing many voices all at once. He was all mixed up, and yet he made a weird kind of sense. For a panicked instant, he wanted to rip the helmet off his head. "-It's only an illusion," he told himself, forcing calm on his own willing nerves. "-Only an illusion." But it seemed strangely real. He was watching the Gulf of Mexico. He could see Florida off to his right, and the arching coast of the Southeastern United States. He could even make out the Rio Grande river. Situation one, two, one started, he remembered, with the discovery of missile-bearing enemy submarines in the Gulf. Even as he watched the whole area as though perched on a satellite, he could see, underwater and close up, the menacing shadowy figure of a submarine, gliding through the crystal blue sea. He saw to a patrol plane as it spotted the submarine and sent an urgent radio warning. The underwater picture dissolved in a bewildering burst of bubbles. A missile had been launched. Within seconds, another burst, this time a nuclear depth charge, utterly destroyed the submarine. He was confusing. He was every place at once. The details were overpowering, but the total picture was zaganizingly clear. Six submarines filed missiles from the Gulf of Mexico. Four were immediately sunk, but too late. New Orleans, St. Louis, and three air force bases were obliterated by hydrogen fusion warheads. The CIA man was familiar with the opening stages of the war. The first missile fired at the United States was a signal for whole fleets of missiles and bombers to launch themselves at the enemy. It was confusing to see the world at once. At times, he could not tell if the fireball from cloud was over Chicago or Shanghai, New York or Novosibirsk, Baltimore or Budapest. It did not make much difference, really. They all got in the first few hours of the war, as did London and Moscow, Washington and Beijing, Detroit and Delhi, and many, many more. The defensive systems on all sides seemed to operate well, except that there were never enough anti-missiles. The defensive systems were expensive compared to attack rockets. It was cheaper to build a deterrent than to defend against it. The missiles flashed up from submarines and railway cars, from underground silos and stratospheric jets. Secret ones fired off automatically when a certain airbase command post seized women out of restraining radio signal. The defensive systems were simply overloaded, and when the bombs ran out, the missiles carried dust and germs and gas, on and on, for six days and six fire-lit nights. Launch, boost, coast, re-enter, death. And now it was over, the CIMM thought. The missiles were all gone. The airplanes were exhausted. The nations that had built the weapons no longer existed. By all the rules he knew of, the war ended. Yet the fighting did not end. The machine knew better. There were still many ways to kill an enemy, time-tested ways. There were armies fighting in four continents, armies that had marched over land or splashed ashore from the sea or dropped out of disguise. Incredibly, the war went on. When the tanks ran out of gas and the flamethrowers became useless, and even the prosaic artillery pieces had no more rounds to fire, there were still simple guns and even simpler bayonets and swords. The proud armies, the descendants of the Alexanders and Caesars and Temudgins and Wellington's and Grant's and Rommel's, relived the revolution in reverse. The war went on. Slowly, inevitably, the armies split apart into smaller and smaller units, until the tortured countryside slowly had felt the impact of nuclear war. Once again knew the tread of bands of armed marauders. The tiny savage groups, stranded in alien lands, far from the homes and families that they knew to be destroyed, carried on a mockery of war, lived out the land, fought their own countrymen if the occasion suited and revived the ancient terror of a hand-wielded personal one had at a time killing. Death was an individual business now and none the better for no longer being mass-produced. In agonized fascination he saw the myriad ways in which a man might die. Murder was only one of them. Radiation, disease, toxic gases that lingered and drifted on the once innocent winds and, finally, the most efficient destroyer of them all, starvation. Three billion people, give or take a meaningless hundred million, lived on the planet Earth when the war began. Now, with the tenor's shred of civilization burned away, most of those who were not killed by the fighting itself succumbed inexorably to starvation. Not everyone died, of course. Life went on. Some were lucky. A long darkness settled in the world. Life went on for a few. A pitiful few. A bitter, hateful, suspicious, savage few. Cities became pass holes. Books became fuel. Knowledge died. Civilization was completely gone from the planet Earth. The helmet was lifted slowly out his head. The CIA man found that he was too weak to raise his arms in help. He was shivering and damped with perspiration. Now you see, Ford said quietly, why the military men cracked up as a computer? General Leroy even was failed. How can a man with any conscience at all direct a military operation when he knows that that will be the consequence? The CIA man struck up a cigarette and pulled hard on it. He exhaled sharply. Are all the war games like that? Every plan? Some are worse, Ford said. We picked an average one for you. Even one of the brush fire games get out of hand and end up like that. So, what do you intend to do? Why did you call me in? What can I do? You're with the CIA, General said. Don't you handle espionage? Yes, but what's that got to do with it? The general looked at him. It seems to me that the next logical step is to make them certain that they get the plans to this computer. And fast. The end of the next logical step by Ben Bova. Just stop to think about the kind of animal they'll put in a test rocket by Jack Douglas. Captain Baird stood at the window of the laboratory where the thousand parts of the strange rocket lay strewn in careful order. Small groups worked slowly over the dismantled parts. The captain wanted to ask, but something stopped him. Behind him, Dr. Johansson set at his desk his gnarled, old hand, tight, around a whiskey bottle, the bottle the doctor always had in his desk, but never brought out except when he was alone, and waited for Captain Baird to ask his question. Captain Baird turned at last. They are our markings, Captain Baird asked. It was not a question. Captain Baird knew the markings of the rocket testing station as well as the doctor did. Yes, the doctor said, they are our markings. Identical, but not our paint. Captain Baird turned back to the window. Six months ago it had happened. Ten minutes after launching the giant test rocket had been only a speck on the observation screen. Captain Baird had turned away and discussed. A mouse, the captain had said. Unfortunate, a mouse can't observe, build, and report. My men are getting restless, Johansson. When we are ready, Captain, the doctor had said. It was twelve hours before the urgent call from Central Control had brought the captain running back to the laboratory. The doctor was there before him. Professor Schultz wasted no time. He pointed to the instrument panel. A sudden shift, see for yourself, will miss Mars by a million and a quarter at least. Two hours later the shift in course of the test rocket was apparent to all of them, and so was their disappointment. According to the instruments, the steering shifted a quarter of an inch. No reason shows up, Professor Schultz said. Law in the metal, Dr. Johansson said. How far can it go? Captain Baird asked. Professor Schultz shrugged. Until the fuel runs out, which is probably as good as never, or until the landing mechanism is activated by a planet-sized body. Course. Did you plot it? the doctor asked. Of course I did, Professor Schultz said. As close as I can calculate, it is headed for Alpha Centauri. Captain Baird turned away. The doctor watched him. Perhaps you will not be quite as hasty with your men's lives in the future, Captain? The doctor said. Professor Schultz was spinning dials. No contact, the professor said. No contact at all. It had been six months ago. Three more test rockets had been fired successfully before the urgent report came through from Alaska Observation Post No. 4. A rocket was coming across the pole. The strange rocket was tracked and escorted by atomic-armed fighters all the way to the rocket test station, where it cut its own motors and gently landed. In the center of a division of atomic-armed infantry, the captain, the doctor, and everyone else waited impatiently. There was an air of uneasiness. You're sure it's not ours? Captain Baird asked. The doctor laughed. Identical, yes, but three times the size of ours. Perhaps one of the Asian ones? No, it's our design, but too large, much too large. Professor Schultz put their thoughts into words. Looks like someone copied ours, someone, somewhere. It's hard to imagine, but true nevertheless. They waited two weeks. Nothing happened. Then a radiation-shielded team went in to examine the rocket. Two more weeks and the strange rocket was dismantled and spread over the field of the testing station. The rocket was dismantled and the station began to talk to itself in whispers and look at the sky. Captain Baird stood now at the window and looked out at the dismantled rocket. He looked, but his mind was not on the parts of the rocket he could see from the window. The materials? They're not ours, the captain asked. Unknown here, the doctor said. The captain nodded. Those were our instruments? Yes, the doctor still held the whiskey bottle in a tight grip. They sent them back, the captain said. The doctor crashed the bottle hard against the desktop. Ask it, captain, for God's sake. The captain turned to face the doctor directly. It was a man, a full-grown man. The doctor sighed as if letting the pent-up stream from his heart escape. Yes, it was a man. It breathes, it eats, it has all the attributes of a man. But it is not of our planet. It's speech, the captain began. That isn't speech, captain, the doctor broke in, breaking in sharply. It's only sound. The doctor stopped. He examined the label of his bottle of whiskey very carefully. A good brand of whiskey. He seems quite happy in the storeroom. You know, captain, what puzzled me at first? He can't read. He can't read anything, not even the instruments in that ship. In fact, he shows no interest in his rocket at all. The captain sat down. He sat at the desk and faced the doctor. At least they had the courage to send a man, and not a mouse doctor, a man. The doctor stared at the captain. His hand squeezed and unsqueezed on the whiskey bottle. A man who can't read his own instruments, the doctor laughed. Perhaps you, too, have failed to see the point. Like that stupid general who sits out there waiting for men from somewhere to invade? Don't you think it's possible? The doctor nodded. A very good possibility, captain, but they will not be men. The doctor seemed to pause and leaned forward. That rocket, captain, is a test rocket. A test rocket just like ours. Then the doctor picked up his whiskey bottle at last and poured two glasses. Perhaps a drink, captain? The captain was watching the skies outside the window. The end of Test Rocket by Jack Douglas. Keep Out by Frederick Brown With no more room left on Earth, and with Mars hanging up there empty of life, somebody hit on the plan of starting a colony on the red planet. It meant changing the habits and physical structure of the immigrants, but that worked out fine. In fact, every possible factor was covered, except one of the flaws of human nature. This is a LubriVox recording. All LubriVox recordings are in public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LubriVox.org. Recording by Braden Michelson. Keep Out by Frederick Brown. Daptine is the secret of it. Adaptine, they called it at first. Then it got shortened to Daptine. It let us adapt. They explained it all to us when we were ten years old. I guess they thought we were too young to understand before then, although we knew a lot of it already. They told us just after we landed on Mars. Your home, children. The head teacher told us after we had gone into the Glasside Dome they'd built for us there. And he told us there'd be a special lecture for us that evening. An important one that we must all attend. In that evening he told us the whole story, and why, and where, for us. He stood up before us. He had to wear a heated space suit and helmet, of course, because the temperature in the dome was comfortable for us, but already freezing cold for him. And the air was already too thin for him to breathe. His voice came to us by radio from inside his helmet. Children, you are home. This is Mars, the planet on which you will spend the rest of your lives. You are Martians, the first Martians. You have lived five years on Earth and another five in space. Now you will spend ten years until you are adults. In this dome, although toward the end of that time, you will be allowed to spend increasingly long periods outside. Then you will go forth and make your own homes, live your own lives as Martians. Your intermarry and your children will be true. They too will be Martians. It is time you were told the history of this great experiment of which each of you is a part. Then he told us. Man, he said, had first reached Mars in 1985. It had been uninhabited by intelligent life. There is plenty of plant life and a few varieties of non-flying insects. And he had found it by terrestrial standards uninhabitable. Man could survive on Mars only by living inside glass-eyed domes and wearing space suits when he went outside of them. Except by day in the warmer seasons, it was too cold for him. The air was too thin for him to breathe and long exposure to the sunlight, less filtered of rays harmful to him than on Earth because of the lesser atmosphere, could kill him. The plants were chemically alien to him and you cannot eat them. He had to bring all his food from Earth or grow it in hydroponic tanks. For 50 years he had tried to colonize Mars and all his efforts had failed. Besides this dome which had been built for us, there was only one other outpost. Another glass-eyed dome much smaller and less than a mile away. It looked as though mankind could never spread to the other planets of the solar system besides Earth for all of them Mars was the least inhospitable. If he couldn't live here, there was no use to even trying to colonize the others. And then, in 2034, 30 years ago, a brilliant biochemist named Weymouth had discovered Daptine. A miracle drug that worked not on the animal or person to whom it was given but on the progeny he conceived during a limited period of time after inoculation. It gave his progeny almost limitless adaptability to changing conditions provided the changes were made gradually. Dr. Weymouth had inoculated and then made it a pair of guinea pigs. They had borne a litter of five and by placing each member of the litter under different and gradually changing conditions he had obtained amazing results. When they attained maturity, one of those guinea pigs was living comfortably at a temperature of 40 below zero Fahrenheit. Another was quite happy at 150 above. A third was thriving on a diet that would have been deadly poison for an ordinary animal and the fourth was contented under a constant x-ray bombardment that would have killed one of his parents within minutes. Subsequent experiments with many layers showed that animals who had been adapted to similar conditions bred true and their progeny was conditioned from birth to live under those conditions. Ten years later, ten years ago, you children were born. Born of parents, carefully selected from those who volunteered for the experiment and from birth you have been brought up under carefully controlled and gradually changing conditions. From the time you were born, the area of breathe has been very gradually thinned and its oxygen content reduced. Your lungs have been compensated by becoming much greater in capacity, which is why your chests are so much larger than those of your teachers and attendants. When you are fully mature and are breathing air like that of Mars, the difference will be even greater. Your bodies are grilling fur to enable you to stand the increasing cold. You are uncomfortable now under conditions which would kill ordinary people quickly. Since you are four years old, your nurses and teachers have had to wear special protection to survive conditions that seem normal to you. In another ten years at maturity, you will be completely acclimated to Mars. Its air will be your air, its food plants, your food. His extremes of temperature will be easy for you to endure and his median temperature is pleasant to you. Already, because of the five years we spent in space under gradually decreased gravitational pull, the gravity of Mars seems normal to you. It will be your planet to live on and to populate. You are the children of Earth, but you are the first Martians. Of course we had known a lot of those things already. The last year was the best. By then the air inside the dome, except for the pressurized parts where our teachers and attendants live, was almost like that outside and we were allowed out for increasingly long periods. It is good to be in the open. The last few months they relaxed segregation of the sexes so we could begin choosing mates, although they told us that there is to be no marriage until after the final day after a full clearance. Choosing was not difficult in my case. I had made my choice long since and I felt sure that she felt the same way. I was right. Tomorrow is our day of freedom. Tomorrow we will be Martians, THE Martians. Tomorrow we shall take over the planet. Some among us are impatient, have been impatient for weeks now, but wiser counsel prevailed and we are waiting. We have waited twenty years and we can wait until the final day. And tomorrow is the final day. Tomorrow, at a signal, we will kill the teachers and the other earthmen among us before we go forth. They do not suspect, so will be easy. We have dissimulated for years now and they do not know how we hate them. They do not know how disgusting and hideous we find them, with their ugly, misshapen bodies, so narrow, shouldered and tiny-chested. Their weak, sibilant voices that need amplification to carry in our Martian air. And above all, their white, pasty, hairless skin. We shall kill them and we shall go and smash the other dome so all the earthmen there will die too. If more earthmen ever come to punish us, we can live and hide in the hills where they'll never find us. And if they try to build more domes here, we'll smash them. We want no more to do with earth. This is our planet and we want no aliens. Keep off. Keep out by Frederick Brown. Recorded by Brayden Michelson. John Jones's Dollar by Harry Stephen Keeler. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Brian Dirks. John Jones's Dollar by Harry Stephen Keeler. Take a board with 64 squares on it. Put a grain of wheat on the first square, two on the second, four on the third. Keep doubling in this manner and you will find that there isn't enough wheat in the world to fill the 64th square. It can be the same with compound interest. On the 200 first day of the year 3221 A.D., the professor of history at the University of Terra seated himself in front of the visit phone and prepared to deliver the daily lecture to his class, the members of which resided in different portions of the earth. The instrument before which he seated himself was very like a great window sash, on account of the fact that there were three or four hundred frosted glass squares visible. In a space at the center, not occupied by any of these glass squares, was a dark oblong area and a ledge holding a piece of chalk. And above the area was a huge brass cylinder. Toward this brass cylinder the professor would soon direct his subsequent remarks in order to assure himself that it was time to press the button which would notify the members of the class in history to approach their local visit phones. The professor withdrew from his vest pocket a small contrivance which he held to his ear. Upon moving a tiny switch attached to the instrument, a metallic voice seeming to come from somewhere in space, repeated mechanically fifteen o'clock and one minute, fifteen o'clock and one minute. Fifteen o'clock and one minute. Quickly the professor replaced the instrument in his vest pocket and pressed a button at the side of the visit phone. As though in answer to the summons, the frosted squares began one by one to show the faces and shoulders of a peculiar type of young men. Young men with great bulging foreheads, bald, toothless, and wearing immense horned spectacles. One square, however, still remained empty. On noticing this a look of irritation passed over the professor's countenance. But, seeing that every other glass square but this one was filled up, he commenced to talk. I am pleased, gentlemen, to see you all posted at your local visit phones this afternoon. I have prepared my lecture today upon a subject which is, perhaps, of more economic interest than historical. Unlike the previous lectures, my talk will not confine itself to the happenings of a few years, but will gradually embrace the course of ten centuries. The ten centuries, in fact, which terminated three hundred years before the present date. My lecture will be an exposition of the effects of the John Jones dollar, originally deposited in the dawn of civilization, or to be more precise, in the year of 1921, just thirteen hundred years ago. This John Jones, at this point in the professor's lecture, the frosted glass square, which hitherto had shown no image, now filled up. Sternley, he gazed at the head and shoulders that had just appeared. B-262-H-72476 mail, you are late to class again. What excuse have you to offer today? From the hollow cylinder emanated a shrill voice, while the lips of the picture on the glass square moved in unison with the words. Professor, you will perceive by consulting your class book that I have recently taken up my residence near the North Pole. For some reason, wireless communication between the central energy station in all points north of eighty-nine degrees was cut off a while ago, on account of which fact I could not appear in the visophone. Hence, Enough, sir! roared the professor. Always ready with an excuse, B-262-H-72476 mail. I shall immediately investigate your tale. From his coat pocket the professor withdrew an instrument which, although supplied with an earpiece and a mouthpiece, had no wires whatever attached, raising it to his lips, he spoke. Hello, Central Energy Station, please. A pause ensued. Central Energy Station? This is the professor of history at the University of Terra speaking. One of my students informs me that the North Pole region was out of communication with the visophone system this morning. Is that statement true? I would, a voice apparently from nowhere, spoken to the professor's ear. Quite true, professor. A train of our ether waves accidentally fell into parallelism with a train of waves from the Venus substation. By the most peculiar miss chance, the two trains happened to be displaced with reference to each other one half of a wavelength, with the unfortunate result that the negative points of one coincided with the positive points of maximum amplitude of the other. Hence the two wave trains nullified each other and communication ceased for 185 seconds until the earth had revolved far enough to throw them out of parallelism. Ah, thank you, replied the professor. He dropped his instrument into his coat pocket, in the direction of the glass square whose image had so aroused his ire. I apologize, B-262H72476 mail, for my suspicions as to your veracity, but I had in mind several former experiences. He shook a warning forefinger. I will now resume my talk. A moment ago, gentlemen, I mentioned the John Jones dollar. Some of you who have just enrolled with the class will undoubtedly say to yourselves, What is a John Jones? What is a dollar? In the early days, before the present scientific registration of human beings was instituted by the National Eugenics Society, man went around under a crude, multi-reduplicative system of nomenclature. Under this system, there were actually more John Joneses than there are calories in a British thermal unit. But there was one John Jones in particular, living in the 20th century, to whom I shall refer in my lecture. Not much is known of his personal life, except that he was an ardent socialist, a bitter enemy, in fact, of the private ownership of wealth. Now as to the dollar. At this day, when the psycho-urg, a combination of the psych, the unit of aesthetic satisfaction, and the urg, the unit of mechanical energy is recognized as the true unit of value, it seems difficult to believe that in the 20th century, and for more than ten centuries thereafter, the dollar, a metallic circular disk, was being passed from hand to hand in exchange for the essentials of life. But nevertheless such was the case. Man exchanged his mental or physical energy for these dollars. He then re-exchanged the dollars for sustenance, remit, pleasure, and operations for the removal of the vermaform appendix. A great many individuals, however, deposited their dollars in a stronghold called a bank. These banks invested the dollars in loans, in commercial enterprises, with the result that every time the earth traversed the solar ecliptic, the banks compelled each borrower to repay, or to acknowledge his due, the original loan, plus six one-hundredths of that loan. Into the depositor the banks paid three one-hundredths of the deposited dollars for the use of the disks. This was known as 3% or bank interest. Now the safety of dollars when deposited in banks was not absolutely assured to the depositor. At times the custodians of these dollars were wont to appropriate them and proceed to portions of the earth sparsely inhabited and accessible with difficulty. And at other times nomadic groups known as Yegmen visited the banks, opened the vaults by force and departed carrying with them the contents. But to return to our subject in the year 1921 one of these numerous John Joneses performed an apparently sequential action which caused the name of John Jones to go down in history. What did he do? He proceeded to one of these banks known at that time as the first national bank of Chicago and deposited there one of these disks, a silver dollar to the credit of a certain individual and this individual to whose credit the dollar was deposited was no other person than the fortieth descendant of John Jones which was deposited in paper which was placed in the files of the bank that the descendancy was to take place along the oldest child of each of the generations which would constitute his posterity. The bank accepted the dollar under that understanding together with another condition imposed by this John Jones namely that the interest was to be compounded annually. That meant that at the close of each year the bank was to credit the account of John Jones's fortieth descendant with three one-hundredths of the account as it stood at the beginning of the year. History tells us little more concerning this John Jones only that he died in the year 1931 or ten years afterward leaving several children. Now you gentlemen who are taking mathematics under Professor L127M72421 male of the University of Mars will remember that where any number such as X in passing through a progressive cycle of change grows at the end of that cycle by a proportion P then the value of the original X after N cycles becomes X times the set 1 plus P risen to the nth power. Obviously in this case X equaled one dollar P equaled three one-hundredths and N will depend upon any number that you care to consider following the date of deposit. By simple calculation those of you who are today mentally alert can check up the results that I shall set forth in my lecture at the time that John Jones died the amount in the first National Bank of Chicago to the credit of John Jones the fortieth was as follows the professor seized the chalk and wrote rapidly upon the oblong space 1931 ten years elapsed one dollar thirty four cents the peculiar sinuous hieroglyphic he explained is an idiograph representing the dollar well gentlemen time went on as time will until a hundred years had passed by the first National Bank still existed in the locality Chicago had become the largest center of population upon the earth through the investments which had taken place in the compounding of interest the status of John Jones's deposit was now as follows he wrote 2021 one hundred years elapsed nineteen dollars ten cents in the following century many minor changes of course took place in the man's mode of living but the so-called socialists still agitated widely for the cessation of private ownership of wealth the first National Bank still accepted dollars for safekeeping and the John Jones dollar still continued to grow with about thirty four generations yet to come the account now stood twenty one twenty one two hundred years elapsed three hundred sixty four dollars and by the end of the succeeding hundred years it had grown to what constituted an appreciable bit of exchange value in those days thus twenty two twenty one hundred years six thousand nine hundred twenty dollars now the century which followed contains an important date the date I am referring to is the year twenty two ninety nine a.d. or the year in which every human being born upon the globe was registered under a numerical name at the central bureau of the national eugenic society in our future lessons which will treat with that period of detail I shall ask you to memorize that date the socialists still agitated fruitlessly but the first national bank of Chicago was now the first international bank of the earth and how great had John Jones's dollar grown let us examine the account both on that important historical date and also at the close of the four hundredth year since it was deposited look twenty two ninety nine three hundred seventy eight years sixty eight thousand nine hundred dollars twenty three twenty one four hundred years one hundred thirty two thousand dollars but gentlemen it had not reached the point where it could be termed an unusually a large accumulation of wealth for larger accumulations existed upon the earth a descendant of a man once known as John D. Rockefeller possessed an accumulation of great size but which as a matter of fact was rapidly dwindling as it passed from generation to generation so let us travel ahead another one hundred years during this time as we learn from our historical and political archives the socialists began to die out since they at last realized the utter futility of combating the balance of power the account though now stood twenty four twenty one five hundred years two million five hundred twenty thousand dollars it is hardly necessary for me to make any comment those of you who are most astute and others of you who flunked my course before and are now taking it the second time of course know what is coming during the age in which this John Jones lived there lived also a man a so-called scientist called Metchnikov we know from a study of our vast collection of Egyptian papyri and Carnegie library books that this Metchnikov promulgated the theory that old age or other senility was caused by Colin Bacillus this fact was later verified but while he was correct in the etiology of senility he was crudely primeval in the therapeutics of it he proposed gentlemen to combat and kill this Bacillus by utilizing the fermented lactile fluid from a now extinct animal called the cow models of which you can see the Bacillus Museum a course of shrill piping laughter emanated from the brass cylinder the professor waited until the merriment had subsided and then continued I beg of you gentlemen do not smile this was merely one of the many similar quaint superstitions existing in that age but a real scientist professor K122B62411 male again attacked the problem in the 25th century since the cow was now extinct he could not waste his valuable time experimenting with fermented cow lactile fluid he discovered the old V-rays of radium the rays which you physicists will remember are not deflected by a magnetic field were really composed of two sets of rays which he termed the G-rays and the E-rays these last name rays only when isolated completely revitalized all Colin Bacilli which lay in their path without in the least affecting the integrity of any interposed organic cells the great result as many of you already know was that the life of man was extended to nearly 200 years that I stayed unequivocally was a great century for the human race but I spoke of another happening one perhaps of more interest and importance I referred to the bank account as the 40th it gentlemen had grown to such a prodigious sum that a special bank and board of directors had to be created in order to care for and reinvest it by scanning the following notation you will perceive the truth of my statement 25 21 600 years 47,900,000 dollars by the year 26 21 AD two events of stupendous events took place there is scarcely a man in this class who has not heard of how professor P222D29333 male accidentally stumbled upon the scientific fact that the effect of gravity is reversed upon anybody which vibrates perpendicularly to the plane of the ecliptic with a frequency which is an even multiple of the logarithm of 2 of the naparian base E at once special vibrating cars were constructed which carried mankind to all planets that discovery of professor P222D29333 male did nothing less than open up 7 new territories to our inhabitants namely Mercury, Venus, Mars Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune in the great land rush that ensued thousands who were previously poor became rich but gentlemen land which so far had been constituted one of the main sources of wealth was shortly to become valuable for individual golf links only as it is today on account of another scientific discovery the second discovery was in reality not a discovery but the perfection of a chemical process the principles of which had been known for many centuries I am alluding to the construction of the vast reducing factories one upon each planet to which the bodies of all persons who died on their respective planets are at once shipped by aerial express since this process is used today all of you understand the methods employed how each body is reduced by heat to its component constituents hydrogen oxygen, nitrogen, carbon, calcium phosphorus and so forth how the separated constituents are stored in special reservoirs together with the components from thousands of other corpses how these elements are then synthetically combined food tablets for those of us who are yet alive thus completing an endless chain from the dead to the living naturally then agriculture and stock raising ceased since the food problem with which man had coped from time immemorial was solved the two direct results were first that land lost the inflated values it had possessed when it was necessary for tillage and second that men were at last given enough leisure to enter the fields of science and art and as to the john jones dollar which now embraced countless industries and vast territory on the earth it stood in value 2621 700 years 912 million dollars in truth gentlemen it now constituted the largest private fortune on the terrestrial globe and in that year 2621 there were 13 generations yet to come before john jones the 40th would arrive to continue in the year 2721 AD an important political battle was concluded in the solar system senate and house of representatives I'm referring to the great controversy as to whether the earth's moon was a sufficient menace to interplanetary navigation to warrant its removal the outcome of the wrangle was that the question was decided in the affirmative consequently but I beg your pardon young men I occasionally lose sight of the fact that you are not so well informed upon historical matters as myself here I am talking to you about the moon totally forgetful that many of you are puzzled as to my meaning I advise all of you who have not yet attended the solaris museum on jupiter to take a trip there some sunday afternoon the interplanetary suburban line runs trains half hour on that day you will find there a complete working model of the old satellite of the earth which before it was destroyed furnished this planet light at night through the crude medium of reflection on account of this decision as to the inadvisability of allowing the moon to remain where it was engineers commenced its removal in the year 2721 piece by piece it was chipped away and brought to the earth in interplanetary freight cars these pieces were then propelled by zoodle light explosive in the direction of the milky way with a velocity of 11,217 meters per second this velocity of course gave each departing fragment exactly the amount of kinetic energy it required to enable it to overcome the backward pull of the earth from here to infinity I dare say those moon hunks are going yet at the start of the removal of the moon in 2721 AD the accumulated wealth of John Jones the 40th stood 2721 800 years $17 billion $400 million of course with such a colossal summit their command the directors of the fund had made extensive investments on Mars and Venus by the end of the 28th century or the year 2807 AD the moon had been completely hacked away and sent piece of space the job having required 86 years I give herewith the result of John Jones' dollar both at the date when the moon was completely removed and also at the close of the 900th year after its deposit 2807 886 years $219 billion $2821 900 years $332 billion the meaning of those figures gentlemen as stated in simple language was that the John Jones dollar now comprised practically all the wealth on earth, Mars and Venus with the exception of one university site on each planet which was of course school property and now I will ask you to advance with me to the year 2906 AD in this year the directors of the John Jones fund awoke to the fact that they were in a dreadful predicament according to the agreement under which John Jones deposited his dollar a way back in the year 1921 interest was to be compounded in the year 2900 AD the 39th generation of John Jones was alive being represented by a gentleman named J664M 42721 male who was 30 years of age and engaged to be married to a young lady named J666M 42652 female doubtless you will ask what was the predicament in which the directors found themselves simply this careful appraisement of the wealth on Neptune Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus and Mercury and likewise earth together with an accurate calculation of the remaining heat in the sun and an appraisement of that heat at a very decent valuation per calorie demonstrated that the total wealth of the system amounted to 6 trillion 309 billion 525 million 241 thousand 362 dollars and 15 cents but unfortunately a simple computation showed that if Mr. J664M 42721 male married Ms. T246M 42652 female and was blessed by a child by the year 2921 the year marked the thousandth year since the deposit of the John Jones dollar then in that year there would be due the child the following amount 2921 1000 years 6 trillion 310 billion dollars it simply showed beyond all possibility of argument that by 2921 AD we would be 474 million 758 thousand 87 dollars and 85 cents shy that we would be unable to meet the debt to John Jones the 40th I tell you gentlemen the board of directors was frantic such wild suggestions were put forth as the sending of an expeditionary force to the nearest star in order to capture some other solar system and thus obtain more territory to make up the deficit but that project was impossible on account of the number of years that it would have required visions of immense lawsuits disturbed the slumber of those unfortunate individuals who formed the John Jones dollar directorship but on the brink of one of the biggest civil actions the courts had ever known something occurred that altered everything the professor again withdrew the tiny instrument from his vest pocket held it to his ear and adjusted the switch a metallic voice rasp 15 o'clock and 52 minutes 15 o'clock and 52 minutes 5th he replaced the instrument and went on with his talk I must hasten to the conclusion of my lecture gentlemen as I have an engagement with professor C122B 24999 mail of the University of Saturn at 16 o'clock now let me see I was discussing the big civil action that was hanging over the heads of the John Jones dollar directors well this Mr. J664 M42721 mail the 39th descendant of the original John Jones had a lovers quarrel with Miss T246M42652 female which immediately destroyed the probability of their marriage neither gave in to the other neither ever married and when Mr. J664 M42721 mail died in 2946 AD of a broken heart as it was claimed he was single and childless as a result there was no one to turn the solar system over to immediately the interplanetary government stepped in and took possession of it at that instant of course private property ceased in the twinkling of an eye almost we reached the true socialistic and democratic condition for which men had futilely hoped throughout the ages that is all today gentlemen class is dismissed one by one the faces faded from the visit phone for a moment the professor stood ruminating a wonderful man that old socialist John Jones the first he said softly to himself a far-seeing man a bright man considering that he lived in such a dark era as the 20th century but how nearly his well-contrived scheme went wrong suppose that 40th descendant had been born end of John Jones's Dollar by Harry Stephen Gehler My Fair Planet by Evelyn E. Smith this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Josh Kibbe My Fair Planet by Evelyn E. Smith as Paul Lamberkin was clambering up the stairs of his rooming house he met a man whose face was all wrong Good evening Paul said politely and it was about to continue on his way when the man stopped him You are the first person I have encountered in this place who is not shuttered at the sight of me he said in a toneless voice with an accent that was outside the standard repertoire Am I? Paul asked bringing himself back from one of the roseat dreams with which he kept himself insulated from a not-too-kind reality I dare say that's because I'm a bit near-sighted he peered vaguely at the stranger then he recoiled what is incorrect about me then the stranger demanded do I not have two eyes one nose and one mouth the identical as other people Paul studied the other man Yes, but somehow they seem to be put together all wrong not that you can help it of course he added apologetically for when he thought of it he hated to hurt people's feelings Yes I can for of a truth to as I who put myself together I do amiss Paul looked consideringly at him I can't quite put my finger on it but there are certain subtle nuances you just don't seem to have caught if you want my professional advice you'll model yourself directly on some real person until you've got the lack of improvisation lack unto this the strangers outlined shimmered and blurred into an amorphous cloud which then coalesced into the shape of a tall, beautiful young man with an ingenuous demon behold is that superior oh, far superior Paul reached up to adjust a stray lock of hair then realized he was not looking into a mirror trouble is well I'd rather you choose someone else to model yourself on you see in my profession it's important to look as unique as possible helps people remember you I'm an actor you know currently I happen to be at liberty but the year before last well whom should I appear like? should I perhaps pick some fine, abstaining figure from your public prince to emulate? like your president probably I... hardly think so it wouldn't do to model yourself on someone well known or even someone obscure whom you might just happen to run into someday being a kind-hearted young man, Paul added come up to my room I have some British film magazines and there are lots of relatively obscure English actors who are very decent looking chaps so they climbed up to Paul's hot little room under the eaves and after leafing through several magazines Paul chose one Ivo Darcy as a likely candidate whereupon the stranger deliquest and reformed into the personable simulacrum of young Mr. Darcy that's quite a trick Paul observed as it finally got through to him what the other had done it would come in handy in the profession for character parts you know I fear you would never be able to acquisition it the stranger said surveying his new self in the mirror complacently it is not a trick but a racial ableness you see, I feel I can trust you of course I'm not really a character actor I'm a leading man but I believe one should be versatile because there are times when a really good character part comes along I am not a human being I am a native of the fifth planet circulating around the star you call Sirius and we Sirians have the ableness to change ourselves into the apparition of any other livid form I thought that might be a near eastern accent Paul exclaimed diverted is Lebanese anything like it because I understand there's a really juicy part coming up in I said Sirian not Sirian I do not come from minor Asia but from outer space from an outer wear solar system I am an outworlder I hope you had a nice trip Paul said politely from Sirius did you say what's the state of theater there in its infanticide the stranger told him but let's face it Paul muttered bitterly it's in its infancy here too no overall planning no appreciation of the fact that all the components that go to make up a production should be a continuing totality instead of a tenuous coalition of separate forces which disintegrate you I comprehend are disemployed in current I should you won't find that situation in Russia Paul went on pleased to discover a sympathetic audience in this intelligent foreigner mind you he added quickly I disapprove entirely of their politics in fact I disapprove of all politics but when it comes to theater in many respects the Russians like to make a proposal to our mutual advantage you wouldn't find an actor there playing a lead role one season and then not being able to get any parts except summer stock and odd bits for the next two years all right so the show I had the lead in folded after two weeks but the critics all raved about my performance it was the play that stank will you terminate the monologue and harken unto me the alien shouted Paul stopped talking his feelings were hurt now he saw all the outworlder wanted to do was talk about his own problems I desire to extend to you a position said Ivo I can't take a regular job Paul said sulkily I have to be available for interviews fellow I knew took a job in a store and when he was called to read for a part he couldn't get away the fellow who did get that part became a big star and maybe the other fellow could have been a star too but now all he is is a new department store chain this work can be undergone at your convention between readings and interviews whenever you have the timing I shall pay you beautifully being abundant with USA currency I want you to teach me how to act teach you how to act Paul repeated rather intrigued well I'm not a dramatic coach you know however I do happen to have some ideas on the subject I feel that most acting teachers nowadays fail to give their students a really thorough grounding in all aspects of the dramatic art all they talk about is method method method but what about technique I have observed your species with great diligence and I thought I had acquisitioned your habits and speaking to perfectness but I fear that like my initial face I have got them awry I want you to teach me how to act like a human being to think like a human being Paul's attention was really caught well that is a challenge I don't suppose Stanislavski ever had to teach an extraterrestrial or even Strasburg then we are in accordance Ivo said you will instruction me he essayed a smile Paul shuttered very well he said we'll start now the first thing we'd better start with is lessons in smiling Ivo proved to be a quick study he not only learned to smile but to frown and to express surprise pleasure, horror, whatever the occasion demanded he learned the lack of counter-fitting humanity with such skill that Paul was moved to remark one afternoon when they are leaving Brooks Brothers after a fitting sometimes you seem even more human than I do Ivo I wish you'd watch out for that tendency to rant though you're supposed to speak and not make speeches I try not to Ivo said but I keep getting carried away by enthusiasm apparently I have a real flair for teaching Paul went on as expertly camouflaged by Brooks the two men melted away into the dense charcoal gray underbrush of Madison Avenue I seem to be even more versatile than I thought perhaps I've been well not wasting but limiting my talents that may be because your talents have not been sufficiently appreciated his star pupil suggested or given enough scope Ivo was so perceptive as a matter of fact Paul agreed it has often seemed to me that if some really gifted individual equally adept at acting directing, producing, playwriting, teaching at all were to undertake a thorough synthesis of the theater ah but that would cost money he interrupted himself and who would underwrite such a project certainly not the government of the United States he gave a bitter laugh perhaps under a new regime conditions might be more favorable for the artist shh Paul looked nervously over his shoulder there are syndicers everywhere besides I never said things were good in Russia just better for the actor that is of course the plays are atrocious propaganda I was not referring to another human regime the human being is at best safe for certain choice spirits unsympathetic to the arts we out-worlders have a far greater respect for things of the mind Paul opened his mouth Ivo continued without giving him a chance to speak no doubt you have often wondered just what I am doing here on earth the question had never crossed Paul's mind feeling vaguely guilty he murmured some people have funny ideas of where to go for a vacation I am here on business Ivo told him the situation on Sirius is serious you know that's catchy the situation on Sirius is serious Paul repeated tapping his foot I've often thought of trying my hand at a musical come I mean we have had a seer grave population problem for the last couple of centuries hence our government has sent out scouts to look for other planets with similar atmosphere climate, gravity and so on where we can ship our excess population so far we have found very few when Paul's attention was focused he could be as quick as anybody to put two and two together but earth is already occupied in fact when I was in school I heard something about our having a population problem ourselves the other planets we already uh took over were in a similar state Ivo explained we managed to surmount that difficulty how? Paul asked though we already suspected the answer oh we didn't dispose of all the inhabitants we merely weeded out the undesirables who, by fortunate chance happened to be in the majority and achieved a happy and peaceful coexistence with the rest but look Paul protested I mean to say for instance, Ivo said swively take the vast body of people who watch television and who have never seen the legitimate play in their lives and indeed rarely go to the motion pictures surely they are expendable well yes of course but even among them there might be oh say a playwright's mother one of the first measures our regime would take would be to establish a vast network of community theaters throughout the world and you Paul would receive first choice of starring roles now wait a minute Paul cried hotly he seldom allowed himself to lose his temper but when he did he got angry I pride myself that have gotten this far wholly on my own merits I don't believe in using influence too but my dear fellow all I meant was that with an intelligently coordinated theater and an intellectually adult audience your abilities would be recognized automatically oh said Paul he was not unaware that he was being flattered but it was so seldom that anyone bothered to pay him any attention when he was not playing a role that it was difficult not to succumb are you figuring on taking over the planet single-handed? he asked curiously heavens no talented as I am there are limits I don't do the dirty work myself I just conduct the preliminary investigation to determine how powerful the local defenses are we have hydrogen bombs Paul said trying to remember details of a newspaper article he had once read in a producer's anti-room and plutonium bombs and oh I know about all those Ivo smiled expertly my job is checking to make sure you don't have anything really dangerous all that night Paul wrestled with his conscience he knew he shouldn't just let Ivo go on yet what else could he do go to the proper authorities but which authorities were the proper ones and even if he found them who would believe an actor offstage delivering such improbable lines would either be laughed at or accused of being part of a subversive plot it might result in a lot of bad publicity which could ruin his career so Paul did nothing about Ivo he went back to the usual rounds of agents and producers offices and the knowledge of why Ivo was on earth got pushed farther into the back of his mind as he trudged from interview to reading to interview it was an exceptionally hot October the kind of weather when sometimes he almost lost his faith I wonder why he was batting his head against a stone wall why he didn't get a job in a department store somewhere or teaching school and then he thought of the applause the curtain calls the dream of some day seeing his name in lights above the title of the play and he knew he would never give up quitting the theater would be like committing suicide for off the stage he was alive only technically he was good he knew he was good so some day he assured himself he was bound to get his big break toward the end of that month it came after the maximum three readings between witches hopes alternately waxed and waned he was cast as the male lead in the holiday tree the producers were more interested they said in getting someone who fitted the role of Eric Everard than in a big name especially since the female star preferred to have her luster undimmed by competition rehearsals took up so much of his time that he saw very little of Ivo for the next five weeks then Ivo didn't need him anymore actually they were no longer teacher and people now but companions drawn together by the fact that they both belonged to different worlds from the one in which they were living insofar as he could like anyone who existed outside of his imagination Paul had grown rather fond of Ivo and he rather thought Ivo liked him too but because he could never be quite sure of ordinary people's reactions toward him how could he be sure of an outworlders Ivo came around to rehearsal sometimes but naturally it would be boring for him since he wasn't in the profession and after a while he didn't come around very often at first Paul felt a twinge of guilt then he remembered that he need not worry Ivo had his own work the whole holiday tree troupe went out of town for the tryouts and Paul didn't see Ivo at all for six weeks busy happy weeks they were for the play it was a smash hit from the start it played to packed houses in New Haven and the box office in New York was sold out for months in advance before they even opened must be kind of fun acting Ivo told Paul the morning after the New York opening as Paul altered contentedly on his bed he had the best room in the house now amid a pile of rave notices at long last he had arrived everybody loved him he was a success and now that he had read the reviews and they were all favorable he could pay attention to the strange things that had happened to his friend raising himself up on an elbow Paul cried Ivo you're mumbling after all I taught you about articulation I got to hang around with this here bunch of actors while you were gone Ivo said they say mumbling's the common thing sides you kept yapping that I declined so but you don't have to go to the opposite extreme and Ivo incredulously Paul took in the full details of the other's appearance what happened to your bricks brother suits hung them in a closet Ivo replied looking abashed I did wear one last night though wouldn't come just like this to your opening but all the other fellas wear blue jeans and leather jackets I mean hell I got to conform more than anybody you know that Paul and Paul set bolt upright this was the supreme outrage you've changed yourself you've gotten younger this is an age of ute Ivo mumbled and I figured I was about ready for improvisation like you said Ivo if you really want to go on the stage hell I don't want to be no actor Ivo protested far too vehemently you know damn well I'm a a spy scouting around to see if you have any secret defenses before I make my report I don't feel I'm giving away any government secrets Paul said when I tell you that the bastions of our defenses are not directed at the actor studio listen pal you let me spy the way I want to and I'll let you act the way you want to Paul was disturbed by this change in Ivo because although he had always tried to steer clear of social involvement he could not help feeling that the young alien had become in a measure his responsibility particularly now that he was a teenager Paul would even have worried about Ivo if there hadn't been so many other things to occupy his mind first of all the producers of the holiday tree could not resist the pressure of an adoring public although the original star sought three months after the play had opened in New York Paul's name went up in lights next to hers over the title of the play he was a star that was good but then there was Gregory and that was bad Gregory was Paul's understudy a handsome soul in youth who had on numerous occasions been heard utter words to the effective it's the part that's so good not him if I had the chance to play Eric Everard just once they'd give Lamberkin back to the Indians sometimes he had said the words in Paul's hearing sometimes the remarks had been lovingly passed on by fellow members of the cast who felt that Paul ought to know I don't like that Gregory Paul told Ivo one Monday evening as they were enjoying a quiet smoke together for there was no performance that night he used to be a juvenile delinquent got sent to one of those reform schools where they used acting as therapy and it turned out to be his metier but you never know when that kind will hear the call of the wild again ah he's a good kid Ivo said he just never had a chance trouble is I'm afraid he's going to make himself a chance chance that is retorted Ivo with prideful inarticulateness however when it's 6 30 that Friday Paul fell over a wire stretched between the jams of the doorway leading to his private bathroom and broke a leg even Ivo was forced to admit that this did not look like an accident Ivo Paul wailed when the doctor had left what am I going to do I refuse to let Gregory go on in my place tonight you're gonna have to Ivo said shifting his gum to the other side of his mouth he's young a steady but the doctor said it would be weeks before I can get around again either Gregory will take over the part completely with his interpretation and I'll be left out in the cold or more likely he'll louse up the play and it'll fold before I'm on my feet you gotta have more confidence in yourself kid I've seen you in a few weeks but Paul knew far better than the idealistic Ivo how fickle the public can be however he chose an argument that would appeal to the boy don't forget he booby-trapped me certainly looks like it Ivo was forced to concede but whatcha gonna do you can't prove it besides the curtain's gonna go up in a little over an hour Paul gripped Ivo's sinewy wrist Ivo you've got to go on for me you got rocks in your head or something you're trying not to look pleased I ain't got an equity card and even if I did he's young a steady no you don't understand I don't want you to go on as Ivo Darcy playing Eric Everard I want you to go on as Paul Lamberkin playing Eric Everard you can do it Ivo good lord so I can Ivo whispered temporarily neglecting a mumble I'd almost forgotten you know my lines too you've cued me in my part often enough to hold his hand over his forehead yeah I guess I do Ivo Paul beseeched him I thought we were pals I don't want to ask any favors but I helped you out when you were in trouble I always figured I could rely on you I never thought you'd let me down and I won't Ivo gripped Paul's hand I'll go and deny them play at part like I ain't never been played before I'll no no play it the way I played it in me Ivo forget Strasburg go back to Stanislavski okay pal Ivo said we'll do and promise me one thing Ivo promise me you won't mumble Ivo winced okay but you're the only one I'd do at four slowly he began to shimmer Paul held his breath maybe Ivo had forgotten how to transmute himself but technique triumphed over method gradually coalesced into the semblance of Paul Lamberkin the show would go on well how was everything Paul asked anxiously when Ivo came into his room shortly after midnight pretty good Ivo said sitting down on the edge of the bed Gregory was extremely surprised to see me asked me half a dozen times how I was feeling Ivo was not only articulating Paul was gratified to notice he was enunciating Ivo how did that go did anyone suspect you were a ringer no Ivo said slowly no I don't think so I got 12 curtain calls he added staring straight ahead of him with a dreamy smile 12 Friday nights the audience is always enthusiastic then Paul swallowed hard and said besides I'm sure you were great in the role but Ivo didn't seem to hear him Ivo was still wrapped in his golden days just before the curtain went up I didn't think I was going to be able to do it I began to feel all quivery inside the way I do before I I change butterflies in the stomach is the professional term Paul nodded wisely a really good actor gets them before every performance no matter how many times I play a role there's that minute when the house lights start to dim when I'm in an absolute panic and then the curtain went up and I was all right I was fine I was Paul Lamberkin I was Eric Everard I was everything Ivo Paul said clapping him on the shoulder you're a born trooper yes Ivo murmured I'm beginning to think so myself for the next four weeks Paul Lamberkin lurked in his room while Ivo Darcy played Paul Lamberkin playing Eric Everard it's terrific of you to take all this time away from your duties old chap Paul said to Ivo one day between the matinee and the evening performances I really do appreciate it although I suppose you've managed to squeeze some of them in I never see you on non matinee afternoons duties Ivo repeated vacantly yes of course my duties let me give you some professional advice though be more careful when you take off your makeup there's still some grease paint in the roots of your hair sloppy of me Ivo agreed getting to work with a towel I can't understand why you bothered to put on the stuff at all Paul grinned when all you need to do is just change a little more I know Ivo rubbed his temples vigorously I suppose I just like the smell of the stuff Ivo Paul laughed there's no use in trying to kid me you are stage struck I'm sure I have enough pull now to get you a bit part somewhere when I'm up and around again and then you can get yourself an equity card maybe I can even have you replace Gregory as my understudy later in retrospect Paul thought perhaps there'd been a curious expression in Ivo's eyes but right then he'd had no inkling that anything untoward was up he did not find out what had been at the back of Ivo's mind until the Sunday before the Tuesday on which he was planning to resume his role for the heart it's going to be good to feel that stage under my feet again he said as he went through a series of complicated limbering up exercises of his own divisement which he had sometimes thought of publishing as the Lamberkin Time and Motion Studies it seemed unfair to keep them from other actors Ivo turned around from the mirror in which he had been contemplating their mutual beauty Paul he said quietly you're never going to feel that stage under your feet again Paul sat on the floor and stared at him you see Paul Ivo said I am Paul Lamberkin now I am more Paul Lamberkin than I was whoever I was on my native planet I am more Paul Lamberkin than you ever were you learned the part superficially Paul but I really feel it it's not a part Paul said quarreulously it's me I've always been Paul Lamberkin how can you be sure of that you've had so many identities why should this be the true one no you only think you're Paul Lamberkin I know I am damn it Paul said that's the identity in which I've taken out equity membership and be reasonable Ivo there can't be two Paul Lamberkins Ivo smiled sadly no Paul you're right there can't of course Paul had known all along that Ivo was not a human being it was only now however that full realization came to him of what a ruthless alien monster the other was existing only to gratify his own purposes by the tithers had a right to exist or are you going to dispose of me then? Paul asked faintly to dispose of you yes Paul but not to kill you my kind is killed enough conquered enough we have no real population problem that was just an excuse we made to solve our own consciences you have consciences do you Paul's face twisted in a sneer that he himself since right away was overly dramatic and utterly unconvincing somehow he could never really be genuine offstage Ivo made a sweeping gesture don't be bitter Paul of course we do all intelligent life forms do it's one of the penalties of sentience for a moment Paul forgot himself watch it Ivo you're beginning to ham up your lines we can institute birth control Ivo went on his manner subdued we can build other buildings oh there are many ways we can cope with the population increase that's not the problem the problem is how to divert our creative energies from destruction to construction and I think I have solved it how will your people know you have Paul asked cunningly since you say you're not going back I am not going back to serious Paul you are it is you who are going to teach my people the art of peace to replace the art of war Paul felt himself turn which was probably a very effective white but I can't even speak the language you will learn the language during the journey I spent those afternoons I was away making a set of syrian and jiffy records for you syrians a beautiful language Paul much more expressive than any of your earth languages you'll like it I'm sure I shall but Paul you are going to bring my people you are always needed you see I lie to you the theater on serious is not in its infancy it has never been conceived if it had been we would never have become what we are today can you imagine a race like mine so superbly fitted to practice the dramatic art remaining in blind ignorance that such an art exists it does seem a terrible waste Paul had to agree although we could not be truly sympathetic just then but I am hardly equipped who is better equipped than you to meet this mighty challenge can't you see that at long last you will be able to achieve your great synthesis of the theatrical arts as producer teacher director actor playwright whatever you will working with a cast of individuals who can assume any shape or form who have no preconceived notions of what can be done and what cannot oh Paul what a glorious opportunity awaits you on serious five how I envy you then why don't you do it yourself Paul asked Ivo smiled sadly again unfortunately I do not have your manifold abilities all I can do is act superbly of course but that's all I don't have the capacity to build a living theater from scratch you do I have talent Paul but you have genius it is a temptation Paul admitted but to leave my own world Paul earth isn't your world you carry yours along with you wherever you go your world exists in the mind and heart not in reality in any real situation you're just as uncomfortable on earth as you would be on serious yes but think of it this way Paul you're not leaving your world you're just leaving earth to go on the road it's a longer road but look at what's waiting for you at the end of it yes yes look Paul said reality very much to the fore in his mind and heart at that moment death or vivisection Paul do you believe I'd do that to you there were tears in Ivo's eyes if he was acting he was a great performer I really am one hell of a good teacher Paul thought and with thoughts of raw material like Ivo to work with I could could he really mean what he's saying they won't harm you Paul serious bearing a message from me you will tell my people that earth has a powerful defensive weapon and you have come to teach them its secret and it's true Paul the theater is your world's most powerful weapon it's best defense against the universal enemy reality Ivo Paul said you really must check that tendency toward bombast especially with a purple speech like that you simply got to learn to underplay you'll watch out for that when I'm gone won't you I will Ivo's face lighted up oh I will Paul I promise never to chew the scenery again I won't so much as nibble on a prop the next day the two of them went up to Bear Mountain where Ivo's ship had been cached all those months Ivo explained to Paul how the controls worked and showed him where the clean towels were pausing in the airlock Paul looked back toward Manhattan I dreamed so many years of seeing my name up in lights on Broadway he murmured and now just when I made it I'll keep it up there Ivo vowed I promise and meanwhile you'll be building a new Broadway up there in the stars yes Paul said dreamily that is something to look forward to isn't it fresh enthusiastic audiences performers untrammeled by tradition a coup operative government unlimited funds a whole wonderful new world opening up before him in another ten years or so Ivo was saying Syrian actors will be coming to earth in droves making the native performers look sick Paul smiled wisely now Ivo you know equity would never stand for that equity won't be able to help itself public pressure will surge upward in a mounting wave and Ivo stopped sorry I was ranting again wasn't I it's being out in the open air that does it I need to be bounded by the four walls of a theater that's a fallacy Paul began on the Greek stage save that for the stars fella Ivo smiled you've got to leave before it gets light then he rung Paul's hand goodbye kid he said you'll knock him dead on Sirius goodbye Ivo Paul returned the grip then he got inside and closed the airlock door behind him he did hope Ivo would correct that tendency toward reclamation on the other hand it was certainly better than mumbling Paul put a Syrian in a Jiffy record on the turntable because he might as well start learning the language right away of course he'd have no one to talk to but himself for many months but then when all was said and done he was his own favorite audience he strapped himself into the acceleration couch and prepared for takeoff next week Eastland he said to himself end of my fair planet by Evelyn E. Smith