 History repeats. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. History repeats by George Oliver Smith. There are, and very probably always will be, some terrestrials who can't and for that matter don't want to call their souls their own. Xenobar lays across the spiral arm, a sprawling sphere of influence, vast, mighty, solid at the core. Only the far flung boundary shows the slight ebb and flow of contingent cultures that may win a system or two today and lose them back tomorrow or a hundred years from now. Xenobar is a trading post of the galaxy. For only Xenobar is strong enough to stand over the trading table when belligerents meet and offer to take them both at once if they do not sheath their swords. For this service Xenobar assesses her percentage. Therefore Xenobar is rich. Her riches by her mercenaries to enforce her doctrines. Therefore Xenobar is rotten at the undercore. For mercenaries have no god but gold. The clatter of a hundred tongues mingled with the clink of glasses and floated through strata of smoke from burning weeds of a hundred planets. From one of the tables voices rise in mild disagreement. There is a jeering laugh from one side and a roar of anger from the other. Two men rise and face one another ready to follow their insults with violence. Before the eruption can start a mercenary steps forward on lithe feet and lightly catches the backswung arm. A quick hand removes the poised glass before it can be thrown into the adversary's face. Sit, says the mercenary in a cold voice and they sit still glaring at one another. Now, says the mercenary, settle your differences by talk or depart in opposite directions. This is Xenobar. He lies. He brags. I do not lie. They are barbarians. I do not brag. I can bring you one. You? A wager, said the mercenary. A wager. Xenobar can take no tax in blood. He faces one. You claim you can do that which he says you cannot. Then not waiting for a reply, he faces the other. And if he does, how much are you willing to pay? How much is his life worth? How much are you willing to pay? Demands the mercenary coldly. 500 weight in crystal cut. An honorable sum. Do you agree? Not enough. For a task as easy as you claim it to be, said the mercenary, 500 weight of crystal cut seems honorable. But it means we in Xenobar are not interested in the details, only in the tax. An honest wager contract, outlanders. Otherwise I rule that your eruption here disturbed the peace. The two outlanders look at one another. Schoolboys caught fighting in the alley by a monitor who demands a bite of their apple in lieu of a visit to the principal. As they floath to touch one another, they reach forward hesitantly in handshake in a quick, light grip. Good, glows the mercenary. He waves a hand and his fellows converge with a contract platen and etching stylus. Now, gentlemen, please state the terms for Xenobar. Peter Holley strolled down a side street with a dog at his heel. It was a dog of many breeds, but not a mixture of careless parentage. Peter paused at a cross street and looked uncertainly to left and right. What do you make, Beauregard? The noble dog says right, replied Beauregard. Right, said Peter, turning up the street and stopped this noble dog routine. Man, his dog's best friend, said Beauregard. If you called me something sensible, I wouldn't have looked it up. There is a statue to me in the oaky-fin oaky back on earth. I am the noble dog. Pogo says so. I, easy Peter, says the dog in a near whisper. All right, do we play down the chatter? Beauregard sat, lifted his nose and sniffed. His natural voice gave a faint whine of discontent. I'm supposed to have a nose, he complained. This is like trying to smell out a lone mouse in a zoological garden in mid-summer. Why the warning, asked Peter? All races smell the same when they're poised for violence, said the dog. Trouble is that man's smell isn't pointed the way it's going, only where it's coming from. Peter grunted, catch any woman smell? Just the usual whiff, stale scent, she was here, she passed this way, but which way? We can guess they made it away from the spaceport. Unless, said the dog, taking another sniff of the air, they're taking her back to some other spacecraft. Beauregard looked up at Peter. Do you catch anything? Just the usual mingled fright and danger, frantic despair. Directional? Peter shook his head. No, he said. The source is too close. Let's stroll up this street to the end and come back on the other side, said the dog, quietly. In a saunter they went, alert and poised. A man and his dog from all appearances. But in Zanibar, the principal city of Zanibar, the empire, they were huntsmen and companion. Like all cities of more than ten million souls, Zanibar had its glistening and lofty area and its slums. And what could have been a waterfront region in a seafaring city? The conditions were the same as they'd been everywhere for a few decades of thousands of years. Only the technology changes. Man's cave is stainless steel and synthetic plastic. The cave's man is swinging a better axe. And his hide is protected from the weather by stuff far more durable than his own skin. But he's the same man with the same hackles. He must rise for a few more thousand reasons than the hackles of his ancestors. Got it, said Beauregard, coming to a brief point at a closed door. Let's go in. Beauregard's reply was a half snarl and half. Look out. Peter rolled to catch a glimpse of a man upon him with a pencil ray coming to point. He faded down and towards the other, almost in a fall, out of the path of the pencil ray that flicked on and began a sweep upward and in. He caught his balance at the same time he clutched the wrist in his right hand. Then he went on down, around, and over, rising on his knee to flip the other man heels high in an arc that ended with a full length, spine-thudding body smash on the pavement. Beauregard leaped in and slashed at the hand clutching the pencil ray. Snapped his head back and forth thrice and sent the weapon flying. Then, with a savage growl, he set a soft mouth against the other's throat and let the man feel the pressure of his fangs. Easy, said Peter. Beauregard backed away a few inches. Easy nothing, he snapped. This man is Noble Dog's worst enemy. He wanted your blood. Take it easy. I want his information. The man looked up. Barbarian terrestrial, he snarled. Peter sneered. And this is the capital city of the glorious civilization called Zanibar. Marble palaces with nobles of blood and stinking alley with human rats. Where is she? The stranger spat. Beauregard wants some red meat. He'd make me up chuck. Only rodents eat their own kind. Just a bite? Do I have to swallow? No, just slash. Wait, Barbarian. Barbarian terrestrial, am I? You were maybe going to invite me for tea and cakes with that pencil ray? I... Talk, snapped Peter. Where is she? Who? Beauregard? Yes, boss. The throat or the other hand? All right. For the good it'll do you. She's in there. Go on in, and we'll have the two of you. Beauregard growled. Three of us. And we might be hard to handle. Peter stood up and hauled the stranger to his feet. His right hand dripped blood from the dog's teeth. Peter looked for and found the pencil ray smashed against the stone front of the building. He cuffed the stranger across the face, turned him around, and pointed him towards the far corner. I count three, he said. If you're not out of sight by three, it'll be a pleasure, Peter, said Beauregard. The stranger loped away on a crazy run. As he turned the corner, he ran face on to one of the uniform mercenaries of Xenobor. The mercenary collared the stranger and took a quick inventory of the slashed right hand, the ripped clothing, and adding those to the frightened gallop, he came back with the stranger's left arm held in a backlock. Hotly he demanded what goes on in Xenobor. Peter eyed the mercenary sourly, kidnapping an attempted murder. Who says such lawlessness runs rife in Xenobor? I say so. Peter holly of the extraterrestrial service. I say so. You are mistaken, barbarian. I say so, said Beauregard. You're an animal. I am, and so are you. I'll not be insulted by an animal. I am. Take it easy, Beauregard. Take it easy, nothing. This mercenary foot soldier forgets one thing, or maybe he doesn't know about it. Don't call his excellencies peacekeepers mercenaries, snapped the mercenary. Peacekeeper chuckled the dog. Well, listen and become wise. Dog and man, man and dog, have been together for about a half million years. Once dog helped man in war and peace, and man gave dog food and shelter. Dog helped man rise above the level of savage, and man has helped dog rise to the level of intelligence. But dog has one advantage. None of us has been intelligent long enough to really believe that dog has a soul. And those of us who do believe that also know that dog's soul is devoted to man. Do you know about dog? Zenabian? Peacekeeper? No. Then don't force me to show you what kind of adversary intelligent dog can be. Mere man is a pushover. Bah. Beauregard loaked in a mad circle about the mercenary. His excellencies peacekeeper turned to stay facing the dog but found himself turning his back on Peter. He stepped back into one side and reached for his heavy-duty pencil. The dog gave a low growl of warning and crouched for a leap. He means it, peacekeeper, said Peter Holly quietly. Draw that pencil and he'll have your hand in ribbons before you can level it. The mercenary drew in his breath. Whistle for help and you'll have your throat. I shall not permit this high-handed, then stop sounding off and listen to us, snapped Peter. I charge the empire of Zanibar with the crime of being indifferent to the welfare of the stranger within her gate. I charge kidnapping and attempted murder and I charge the latter against the specimen you hold in your hand. An outlander? Does he bring his own law to Zanibar? If he does, then so do I. I arrest you all for breaking the peace of Zanibar. Me too, asked Beauregard. The mercenary ignored the dog's eager sally. You are armed, terrestrial. So was he. So am I, snarled Beauregard, showing a fine set of white fangs in the most effective gesture. This must cease, thundered the mercenary. You cannot threaten his excellencies, peacekeepers. Beauregard growled. Slip the mercenary a crystal-cut, boss. We've got a girl to find. A girl? A terrestrial girl? Asked the mercenary with his eyes opening. The daughter of our envoy to Lonafite, Miss Vanessa Lewis. Last reported in her state room aboard the terrestrial spacecraft Polaris during landing pattern at Zanibar Citadel spaceport. The mercenary said, a work of outlanders, riff-raff such as this. Well, snapped Peter Holley, do his excellencies, peacemakers, condone such goings on? We keep the peace of Zanibar. Your charge is your word, terrestrial. Terrestrial barbarian, isn't it? I arrest you. Oh, stop it. For five weight of crystal-cut, can you be bribed to haul that specimen off to jail and let me go about making my own peace with Zanibar? You accuse me of accepting bribes? You're a mercenary, aren't you? Seven weight of crystal-cut. Ten. Seven, said Peter. Ten, said the mercenary. And you have one more caper coming. Ten, agreed Peter Holley. And you look the other way when I take the lid off. Still got it, said Beauregard, sniffing at the closed door but keeping one eye on the disappearing mercenary in his prisoner. I've got it, too. Still fright and concern, fear of harm, concern over what happens next. Strong? Definitely, said Peter, closing his eyes and holding his breath. Nothing measurable? Asked the dog after a full minute? No. Too bad I was never introduced to her. I have no idea of her strength of mind. Wait! Another minute went by in personal silence. Peter Holley's concentration was far too deep to be disturbed by the sounds of the city's spaceport slum by night. The dog backed away from the door and took an alert position to guard Peter while the man was immersed in his own mind. Finally, Peter alerted and shook his head sadly. I thought for a moment that she'd caught me, a fleeting thought of rescue or escape, concept of freedom, flight, safety. But wish thinking, not communication. Let's go in. Barge or slink? Asked the dog. Slink. Have it your way, said Beauregard. Outside, the place looked closed. The door was solid, a plastic in imitation of bronze through which neither light nor sound passed. Windows were dark, but once the door was cracked, the wave of sound came pouring out along the slit of light and filled the street with echo and re-echo. Slink, now, said the dog. So everyone makes mistakes. Inside, a woman leaned over a low counter. Check your web. Say, you can't bring that animal in here. Beauregard said he isn't bringing me. I'm here because I like it. The woman's eyes bugged. What? Kind? I am man's best friend. The noble dog of barbarian terror. Yes? But? Oh, said Peter, eerily. We're looking for a friend. Friend? Who is he? It's a she and her name is Vanessa Lewis. She ain't here. The dames a liar s. Peter, I send her strong. We'll just take a look around, said Peter, to the check girl. You'll have to check your weapons. I'd rather go in naked. Sorry, not today. Weapons happen to be my business today. Come on Beauregard. Man and dog started along the hallway warily. Beauregard said, any touch? Got a faint impression of alarm, danger? Call out the guards. I sent violence, said the dog. And the door at the end of the hallway opened and a big man stepped out. What's going on here? He demanded flatly. The check girl said he wouldn't check. The big man reached for his hip pocket. Peter said, take him high and they plunged. Peter dove for the man's knees. Beauregard went in a three stride lope like an accordion folding and unfolding and then arched in a long leap with his snarling fangs aimed at the man's throat. Man and dog hit him low and high before he could open his mouth, before he could free the snub pencil ray. There was a short scrabble that ended when Beauregard lifted the man's head and whammed it down hard against the floor. The check girl finished her statement, his weapons, and keeled over in a dead faint. Beauregard shook himself violently and worked his jaws, licking blood from his chops. Peter looked in through the open wall door opposite the check counter. The racket had not been noticed by the room full of spacemen and riffraff. The babble of a hundred tongues still went on amid the clink of glasses and the disturbing strains of Xenabian music. From a hundred semi-noxious weeds lay in strada across the room and at a table in the far corner two men faced one another. Their expressions a mixed pair. One held a heavily begrudged admiration as he paid off five hundred weight of crystal cut in the legal tender of Xenabor to the other, whose expression was greedy self-confidence. One of his excellencies peacekeepers presided over the exchange. Coldly he extracted a fifty weight from the pile and folded it into the signed and completed wager contract. For his own coffer he extracted a five weight and slipped it into his boot top. Peter Holly and Beauregard passed on. Went through the far door dragging their late adversary ignominiously by the heels. Amid the lessened publicity of the distant hall, Peter checked the man and shrugged. He may live, he said coldly, if he doesn't bleed to death. You really ought to take him on the high side, said Beauregard, plaintively. All I've got is my teeth to grab with. Then it would bleed so bad from the ankle. They don't stay stopped that way either, said Peter partially. You'd not be getting any praise from the chief for that sort of brutality. If Xenabor weren't rotten to the core, we wouldn't be plowing through it in the first place. Now let's get going. Shouldn't you call the rest of the crew? Not until I'm certain the girls here. I'd hate to cut the city-wide search for cold evidence. She's here. I sent her. Maybe it's past tense Beauregard, or maybe it's another woman. Could be, but one thing. It's definitely terrestrial woman. The dog sniffed again. You get anything? No more than before. It's close, and they're the same set of impressions. Yet any woman would be frantic with fear and concern. I shh. Beauregard's sharp ears lifted instinctively at a distant sound not heard by the man. With a toss of his head, he put one ear back, uncovering the inner shell. Like a sonic direction finder, Beauregard turned his head and listened. Man, he said finally with a low growling voice, Peter, there'll be hell to pay around here directly. He stumbled over our recent conquest. Let's get cutting. Peter started trying doors and peering in. The dog raced on ahead of the man, sniffing deep at the bottom of each. It was the dog that found the room. Here, and Peter raced forward just as the fellow on the stairs yelled something in his native tongue. Peter hit the door with the heel of his foot and slammed it open by splintering the door frame. The dog crouched low and poised. Peter slipped in and around feeling for a light switch. From the inside there was a voiceless whimper of fright and from the outside and below came the pounding of several sets of heavy feet. Peter found the switch and flooded the room with light. The girl, whether she was Miss Vanessa Lewis or someone else and kidnap-wise, it was still a terrestrial girl lay trust on the bed, a patch of surgical tape over her mouth. Sorry, said Peter in a voice that he hoped was soothing. He reached free to corner of the tape and ripped it off in a single swipe. The girl howled. Peter slapped her lightly. Stop it, he commanded sharply. Vanessa Lewis? Yes, but call out the Marines, Peter, snarled the dog. No, bow back. Reluctantly the dog backed into the room. He crouched low, poised to spring, with his nose just beyond the door frame. Four of them he whimpered pleadingly. I can get two. Well, I can't get the other two unless I'm lucky, snapped Peter. Don't be so eager to die for nothing, bow regard. All this calculation grumbled the dog sourly. I don't call it a loss if I get two for one. I call it a loss if I don't get four for nothing or the whole damned empire of Xanabar for nothing, for that matter. We've got a job to do and it ain't dying until Miss Lewis is out of this glorious citadel. The girl looked from one to the other. They did not need any identification. They were their own bona fides. Only man, terrestrial man, had intelligent dogs to work beside him. Period, question closed. Bow regard snarled at the door warningly while Peter stripped surgical tape from wrists and ankles. Outside, someone called. Come out or we blast. Bow regard snarled. Come in and we'll cut you to bits. A quick flash of a pencil ray flicked in a lance above the dog's nose. Bow regard snapped back as the lancet of light cut downward. Then snapped forward for a quick look outside as the little pencil of danger flickered dark. Careful bow. You call the boys, snap the dog. I'll. Something came twisting forward and it dropped just inside the door jam. Bow regard leaped, snapped at the thing and caught it in midair. Snapped his head in a vicious shake and sent it whirling back outside again before it could be identified. The dog sun-fished and landed on all four. Then the thing went off with a dull poof outside. There was a gentle flash, a quick light that was smothered by a billow of smoke. Bow regard leaped into the cloud and disappeared. There was a horse shriek and a dog claws on the hard floor. The sound of a heavy thud and the angry snarl of a dog with its teeth fastened into something soft. Then there was the fast patter of dog feet and bow regard came around the door on a dead run, sliding sidewise to Karoom off the open door into safety just as a pencil ray flicked to follow him. Got him said the dog in a satisfied tone. That's one. He took his post by the door frame again, the tip of his nose just outside. There was a consultation out there in the hallway at which bow regard called make a wild rush for us. Miss Lewis said, what are we going to do? Fight it out, said Peter. They can't win so long as we're alive now. I've got my crew on its way in a dead run and if we make enough noise some of His Excellencies peacemakers will step in and demand their cut of the finances. He grinned, how much are you worth Miss Lewis? She shuddered, I don't know how much my father would pay. Hit him low, Peter, came bow regard snarl. Three of them came in a slant, bounced shoulders against the open door, caught their bearings and hell was out for noon. Bow regard caught the first with a slash at the throat. They went down in a mad roll of dog and thug, paws, tail, arms, legs and a spurt of blood. The second flicked his pencil ray at Peter. Its capsule charge faded to a mere sting before it cut into him. The third aimed a kick at the struggling dog. Vanessa Lewis snatched a box from the bureau and hurled it at the second. Peter thumbed his pencil ray and winged the third man in the biceps. Bow regard leaped for the second man's gunhand and closed on it as the hurled box opened and scatter shot at his face with brick-a-brack. The man with the bloody throat flailed out and caught Peter by the ankle. Peter stomped his face with the other heel. Miss Lewis picked up the table lamp and with a single motion turned off the light and finished felling the one with the ray-burned shoulder. Bow regard dropped from the second man's wrist and crouched to spring. The man cowered back, his good arm covering his throat and his other arm hanging limp. He mouthed fright noises in some tongue native to some star a thousand light years across the galaxy. Coldly Peter stepped forward and belted them in the plexus. Now, he said calmly, we shall vacate the premises. They went side by side, facing slightly outward. Bow regard between them and slightly ahead. We're coming out called the dog Three Barbarians from Terra. Down on the dark street, they met their mercenary again. He eyed them sourly. I see you were, in a sense, successful. Peter Holly faced the mercenary. We were successful and would you like to make something of it? I'm going to have to arrest you, you know. You'll lose an arm trying, snapped the dog. There's murder been committed tonight, said his Excellency's peacemaker. The peace of Zanibar has been disturbed. Why you chiseling crook? There's been kidnapping tonight and... I'm afraid that I shall have to ask that the young lady produce her passport, said the mercenary. Otherwise, she's in Zanibar Citadel illegally. Bow regard said, hit him low, Peter. Here come the boys. No. Just once, for fun? No. I want our money-grubbing peacekeeper to carry a message to his Excellency. I want his Excellency to read some terrestrial history. Once upon a time, there was a place called the Byzantine Empire that laid across the trade routes. The upper crust of the people used to serve the presence of God in a golden throne, whilst their underlings dealt in human slaves and procured comely concubines for their emperor. Their policemen took bribes and human life was cheap. And when Byzantium fell, all the world was forced to seek a new trade route. So tell his Excellency that he'd better clean up his own foul mess or some barbarians will clean it up for him. And that, said Bow regard, goes for your dad-ratted cat. End of History repeats by George Oliver Smith. The last evolution by John W. Campbell Jr. I am the last of my type existing today in all the solar system. I too am the last existing who in memory sees the struggle for this system. And in memory I am still close to the end of history. I am the last of my type existing today in all the solar system. I too am the last existing who in memory and in memory I am still close to the center of rulers. For mine was the ruling type then. But I will pass soon and with me will pass the last of my kind. A poor inefficient type, but yet the creators of those who are now and will be long after I pass forever. So I am setting down my record on the Menta type. It was two thousand five hundred thirty-eight years after the year of the son of man. For six centuries mankind had been developing machines. The ear apparatus was discovered as early as seven hundred years before. The eye came later. The brain came much later. But by twenty five hundred, the machines had been developed to think and act and work with perfect independence. Man lived on the products of the machine and the machines lived to themselves very happily and contently. Machines are designed to help and cooperate. It was easy to do the simple duties they needed to do that men might live well and men had created them. Most of mankind were quite useless for they lived in a world where no productive work was necessary. But games, athletic contests, adventure, these were the things they sought for their pleasure. Some of the poorer types of man gave themselves up wally to pleasure and idleness and to emotions. But man was a sturdy race which had fought for existence through a million years and the training of a million years does not slough quickly from any form of life. So their energies were bent to mock battles now since real ones no longer existed. Up to the year 2100, the numbers of mankind had increased rapidly and continuously. But from that time on there was a steady decrease. By 2500 their number was a scanned 2 million out of a population that once totaled many hundreds of millions and was close to 10 billions in 2100. Some few of these remaining 2 millions devoted themselves to the adventure of discovery and exploration of places unseen, of other worlds and other planets. But few are still devoted themselves to the highest adventure, the unseen places of the mind. Machines with their irrefutable logic, their cold preciseness of figures, their tireless, utterly exact observation, their absolute knowledge of mathematics, they could elaborate any idea, however simple its beginning, and reach the conclusion. From any three facts they even then could have built in mind all the universe. Machines had imagination of the ideal sort. They had the ability to construct a necessary future result from a present fact. But man had imagination of a different kind. Theirs was the illogical, brilliant imagination that sees the future result vaguely without knowing the why nor the how, an imagination that outstrips the machine in its preciseness. Man might reach the conclusion more swiftly, but the machine always reached the conclusion eventually, and it was always the correct conclusion. By leaps and bounds man advanced, by steady irresistible steps, the machine marched forward. Together man and the machine were striding through science irresistibly. Then came the outsiders. Once they came, neither machine nor man ever learned, save only that they came from beyond the outermost planet, from some other sun. Sirius, Alpha Centauri perhaps. First a thin scout line of a hundred great ships, mighty torpedoes of the void, a thousand killings in length they came. And one machine returning from Mars to Earth was instrumental in its first discovery. The transport machine's brain ceased to radiate its sensations, and the control in old Chicago knew immediately that some unperceived body had destroyed it. An investigation machine was instantly dispatched from dimos, and it maintained an acceleration of one thousand units. They sighted ten huge ships, one of which was already grappling the smaller transport machine. The entire force section had been blasted away. The investigation machine, scarcely three inches in diameter, crept into the shattered hull and investigated. It was quickly evident that the damage was caused by a fusing ray. Strange lifeforms were crawling about the ship, protected by flexible transparent suits. Their bodies were short and squat, forelimbed and evidently powerful. They, like insects, were equipped with a thick, durable exoskeleton, horny brownish coating that covered arms and legs and head. Their eyes projected slightly, protected by horny protruding walls, eyes that were capable of movement in every direction, and there were three of them, set at equal distances apart. The tiny investigation machine hurled itself violently at one of the beings, crashing against the transparent covering, flexing it and striking the being inside with terrific force. Hurled from his position, he fell end over end across the weightless ship, and despite the blow, he was not hurt. The investigator passed to the power room ahead of the outsiders, who were anxiously trying to learn the reason for their companion's plight. Directed by the centre of rulers, the investigator sought the power room and relayed the control signals from the ruler's brains. The ship brain had been destroyed, but the controls were still readily workable. Quickly they were shot home, and the enormous plungers shut. A combination was arranged so that the machine as well as the investigator and the outsiders were destroyed. A second investigator, which had started when the plan was decided on, had now arrived. The outsider's ship nearest the transport machine had been badly damaged, and the investigator entered the broken side. The scenes were, of course, remembered by the memory minds back on Earth, tuned with that of the investigator. The investigator flashed down corridors, searching quickly for the apparatus room. It was soon seen that within the machines were practically unintelligent, very few machines of even slight intelligence being used. Then it became evident by the excited action of the men of the ship that the presence of the investigator had been detected. Perhaps it was the control impulses or the signal impulses it emitted. They searched for the tiny bit of metal and crystal for some time before they found it, and in the meantime it was plain that the power these outsiders used was not, as was ours of the time, the power of blasting atoms, but the greater power of disintegrating matter. The findings of this tiny investigating machine were very important. Finally they succeeded in locating the investigator, and one of the outsiders appeared armed with a peculiar projector. A bluish beam snapped out and the tiny machine went blank. The fleet was surrounded by thousands of the tiny machines by this time, and the outsiders were badly confused by their presence, as it became difficult to locate them in the confusion of signal impulses. However, they started at once for Earth. The science investigators had been present toward the last, and I am there now in memory with my two friends long since departed. They were the greatest human science investigators. Roll 25374 and Tress 35429. Roll had quickly assured us that these outsiders had come for invasion. There had been no wars on the planets before that time in the direct memory of the machines, and it was difficult that these who were conceived and built for cooperation, helpfulness utterly dependent on cooperation, unable to exist independently as were humans, that these life forms should care to destroy merely that they might possess. It would have been easier to divide the works and the products, but life alone can understand life, so Roll was believed. From investigations machines were prepared that were capable of producing considerable destruction. Torpedoes being our principal weapon were equipped with such atomic explosives as had been developed for blasting. A highly efficient induction heat ray developed for furnaces being installed in some small machines made for the purpose in the few hours we had before the enemy reached Earth. In common with all life forms, they were able to withstand only very meager Earth acceleration. A range of perhaps four units was their limit and it took several hours to reach the planet. I still believe the reception was a warm one. Our machines met them beyond the orbit of Luna and the directed torpedo sailed at the hundred-grade ships. They were thrown aside by a magnetic field surrounding the ship, but were redirected instantly and continued to approach. However, some beams reached out and destroyed them by instant volatilization. But they attacked at such numbers that fully half the fleet was destroyed by their explosions before the induction beam fleet arrived. These beams were, to our amazement, quite useless, being instantly absorbed by a force screen and the remaining ships sailed on undisturbed or torpedoes being exhausted. Several investigator machines sent out for the purpose soon discovered the secret of the force screen and while being destroyed, were able to send back signals up to the moment of annihilation. A few investigators thrown into the heat beam of the enemy reported it identical with ours, explaining why they had been prepared for this form of attack. Signals were being radiated from the remaining 50 along a beam. Several investigators were sent along these beams speeding back at great acceleration. Then the enemy reached Earth. Instantly they settled over the Colorado settlement, the Sahara colony and the Gobi colony. Enormous diffused beams were set to work and we saw through the machine screens that all humans within these ranges were being killed instantly by the faintly greenish beams. Despite the fact that any life form killed normally can be revived, unless affected by dissolution common to living tissue, these could not be brought to life again. The important cell communication channels, nerves had been literally burned out. The complicated system of nerves called the brain, situated in the uppermost extremity of the human life form, had been utterly destroyed. Every form of life, microscopic, even submicroscopic, was annihilated. Trees, grass, every living thing was gone from that territory. Only the machines remained, for they working entirely without the vital chemical forces necessary to life were uninjured. But neither plant nor animal was left. The pale green rays swept on. In an hour, three more colonies of humans had been destroyed. Then the torpedoes that the machines were turning out again came into action. Almost desperately the machines drove them at the outsiders in defense of their masters and creators, mankind. The last of the outsiders was down, the last ship a crumpled wreck. Now the machines began to study them, and never could humans have studied them as the machines did. Scores of great transports arrived, carrying swiftly the slower moving science investigators. From them came the machine investigators and human investigators. Tiny investigators' fears wormed their way where none others could reach, and silently the science investigators watched. Hour after hour they sat watching the flashing changing screens calling each other's attention to this or that. In an incredibly short time the bodies of the outsiders began to decay, and the humans were forced to demand their removal. The machines were unaffected by them, but the rapid change told them why it was that so thorough an execution was necessary. The foreign bacteria were already at work on totally unresisting tissue. It was Raul who sent the first thoughts among the gathered men. It is evident, he began, that the machines must defend man. Man is defenseless. He is destroyed by these beams while the machines are unharmed, uninterrupted. Life, cruel life, has shown its tendencies. They have come here to take over these planets and have started out with the first natural moves of any invading life form. They are destroying the life, the intelligent life, particularly that is here now. He gave vent to that little chuckle which is the human sign of amusement and pleasure. They are destroying the intelligent life and leaving untouched that which is necessarily their deadliest enemy, the machines. You machines are far more intelligent than we even now and capable of changing overnight, capable of infinite adaptation to circumstance. You live as readily on Pluto as on Mercury or Earth. Any place is a homeworld to you. You can adapt yourselves to any condition and most dangerous to them. You can do it instantly. You are their most deadly enemies and they don't realize it. They have no intelligent machines. Probably they can conceive of none. When you attack them, they merely say the life form of Earth is sending out controlled machines. We will find good machines we can use. They do not conceive that those machines which they hope to use are attacking them. Attack therefore! We can readily solve the hidden secret of their force screen. He was interrupted. One of the newest science machines was speaking. The secret of the force screen is simple. A small ray machine which had landed near rose into the air at the command of the scientist machine X-5638 it was and trained upon it the deadly induction beam. Already with his parts X-5638 had constructed the defensive apparatus for the ray fell harmless from his screen. Very good! said Roll softly. It is done and therein lies their danger. Already it is done. Man is a poor thing unable to change himself in a period of less than thousands of years. Already you have changed yourself. I noticed your weaving tentacles and your force beams. You transmuted elements of the soil for it. Correct! replied X-5638. But still we are helpless. We have not the power to combat their machines. They use the ultimate energy known to exist for six hundred years and still untapped by us. Our screens cannot be so powerful. Our beams so effective. What of that? asked Roll. Their generators were automatically destroyed with the capture of the ship as you know. replied X-6349. We know nothing of their system. Then we must find it for ourselves. replied Trest. The life beams? asked Kosh256799, one of the man rulers. They affect chemical action, retarding it greatly in exothermic actions, speeding greatly endothermic actions. answered 6-221, the greatest of the chemical investigators. The system we do not know. Their minds cannot be read. They cannot be restored to life so we cannot learn from them. Man is doomed if these beams cannot be stopped. said CR-21, present chief of the machine rulers in the vibrationally correct, emotionless tones of all the race of machines. Thus concentrate on the two problems of stopping the beams and the ultimate energy till reinforcements still several days away can arrive, for the investigators had sent back this saddening news. A force of nearly 10,000 great ships was still to come. In the great laboratories, the scientists reassembled. There they felt to work in two small and one large group. The small group investigated the secret of the ultimate energy of annihilation of matter, under roll, another investigated the beams, under trust. But under the direction of MX-3401, nearly all the machines worked on a single great plan. The usual driving and lifting units were there, but a vastly greater dome case, far more powerful energy generators, far greater force beam controls were used, and more tentacles were built on the framework. Then all worked, and gradually in the great dome case there were stacked the memory units of the new type. And into these fed all the sensation ideas of all the science machines till nearly a tenth of them were used. Countless billions of different factors on which to work, countless trillions of facts to combine in the extrapolation that is imagination. Then a widely different type of thought combine and a greater sense receptor. It was a new brain machine, new for it was totally different, working with all the vast knowledge accumulated in six centuries of intelligent research by man and a century of research by man and machine. No one branch but all physics, all chemistry, all life knowledge, all science was in it. A day and it was finished. Slowly the rhythm of thought was increased till the slight quiver of consciousness was reached. Then came the beating drum of intelligence, the radiation of its yet uncontrolled thoughts, quickly as the strings of its infinite knowledge combined the radiation ceased. It gazed about it and all things were familiar in its memory. Roll was lying quietly on a couch. He was thinking deeply and yet not with the logical trains of thought that machines must follow. Roll, your thoughts. Called F1, the new machine. Roll sat up. Ah, you have gained consciousness. I have. You thought of hydrogen? Your thoughts ran swiftly and illogically, it seemed. But I followed slowly and I find you were right. Hydrogen is the start. What is your thought? Roll's eyes dreamed. In human eyes there was always the expression of thought that machines never showed. Hydrogen, an atom in space but a single proton but a single electron. Each indestructible. Each mutually destroying. Yet never do they collide. Never in all science when even electrons bombard atoms with the awful expelling force of the exploding atom behind them. Never do they reach the proton to touch and annihilate it. Yet the proton is positive and attracts the electrons negative charge. A hydrogen atom. Its electron far from the proton falls in and from it there goes a flash of radiation and the electron is near to the proton in a new orbit. Another flash, it is nearer. Always falling nearer and only constant force will keep it from falling to that one state. Then for some reason no more does it drop. Blocked, held by some imponderable yet impenetrable wall. What is that wall? Why? Electric force curves space as the two come nearer the forces become terrific. Nearer they are, more terrific. Perhaps if it passed within that forbidden territory the proton and the electron curve space beyond all bounds and are in a new space Roll's soft voice dropped to nothing and his eyes dreamed. If one hummed softly in its new made mechanism far ahead of us there is a step that no logic can justly ascend working backwards. It is perfect. If one floated motionless on its anti-gravity drive. Suddenly force shafts gleamed out tentacles became withering masses of rubber covered metal weaving in some infinite pattern weaving in flashing speed while the whir of air sucked into a transmutation field wind and howled about the withering mass. Fierce beams of force drove and pushed at a rapidly materializing something while the hum of powerful energy generators within the shining cylinder of F1 waxed and waned. Flashes of fierce flames sudden crashing arcs that glowed and snapped in the steady light of the laboratory and glimpses of white hot metals supported on beams of force. The sputter of welding of transmuted air and the hum of powerful generators blasting atoms were there all combined to a weird symphony of light and dark of sound and quiet. About F1 were clustered floating tears of science machines watching steadily. The tentacles withered once more straightened and rolled back. The wine of generators softened to a sigh and but three beams of force held the structure of glowing bluish metal. It was a small thing scarcely half the size of roll. From it curved three thin tentacles of the same bluish metal. Suddenly the generators in F1 seemed to roar into life an enormous aura of white light surrounded the small torpedo of metal and it was shot through with crackling streamers of blue lightning. Lightning cracked and roared from F1 to the ground near him and to one machine which had come too close. Suddenly there was a dull snap and F1 fell heavily to the floor and beside him fell the fuse distorted mass of metal that had been a science machine. But before them the small torpedo still floated held now on its own power. From it came waves of thought the waves that man and machine alike could understand. F1 has destroyed his generators they can be repaired his rhythm can be re-established it is not worth it my type is better F1 has done his work From the floating machine there broke a stream of brilliant light that floated like some cloud of luminescence down a straight channel. It flooded F1 and as it touched it F1 seemed to flow into it and float back along it in atomic sections. In seconds the mass of metal was gone. It is impossible to use that more rapidly however lest the matter disintegrate instantly to energy. The ultimate energy which in me is generated F1 has done its work and the memory stacks he has put in me are electronic not atomic as they are in you nor molecular as in man the capacity of mine are unlimited Already they hold all memories of all the things each of you has done known and seen I shall make others of my type Again that weird process began but now there were no flashing tentacles there was only the weird glow of forces that played with and laughed at matter and its futile resisting electrons Allured flares of energy shot up now and again they played over the fighting mingling dancing forces then suddenly the wine of transmuted air died and again the forces strained a small cylinder smaller even than its creator floated where the forces had danced the problem has been solved F2 asked roll it is done roll the ultimate energy is at our disposal replied F2 this I have made is not a scientist it is a coordinator machine a ruler F2 only part of the problem is solved half of half of the beams of death are not yet stopped and we have not the attack system said the ruler machine forces played from it and on its sides appeared CRU-1 in dully glowing golden light some life form and we shall see said F2 minutes later a life form investigator came with a small cage which held a guinea pig forces played about the base of F2 and moments later came a pale green beam there from it passed through the guinea pig and the little animal fell dead at least we have the beam I can see no screen for this beam I believe there is none let machines be made and attack that enemy life form machines can do things much more quickly and with fuller cooperation than man ever could in a matter of hours under the direction of CRU-1 they built a great automatic machine on the clear bare surface of the rock in hours more thousands of the tiny material energy driven machines were floating up and out dawn was breaking again over denver where this work had been done when the main force of the enemy drew near earth it was a warm welcome they were to get for nearly 10,000 of the tiny ships flew up and out from earth to meet them each a living thing at on itself each willing and ready to sacrifice itself for the whole 10,000 giant ships shining dully in the radiance of a far-off blue-white sun met 10,000 tiny darting moats 10,000 tiny machine ships capable of maneuvering far more rapidly than the giants tremendous induction beam snapped out through the dark star-flecked space to meet tremendous screens that threw them back and checked them then all the awful power of annihilating matter was thrown against them and titanic flaming screens reeled back under the force of the beams and the screens of the ships from outside flamed gradually violet then blue, orange, red the interference was getting broader and ever less effective their own beams were held back by the very screens that checked the enemy beams and not for the briefest instant could matter resist that terrible driving beam 4F1 had discovered a far more efficient release generator than had the outsiders these tiny dancing moats that hung now so motionlessly grim beside some giant ship could generate all the power they themselves were capable of and throw it against the giant within these strange horny skinned men worked and slaved as they fed giant machines poor inefficient giants gradually these giants warmed, grew hotter and the screen chip grew hotter as the overloaded generators warmed it billions of flaming horsepower flared into wasted energy twisting space in its mad conflict gradually the flaming orange of the screens was dying and flecks and spots appeared so dully red that they seemed black the greenish beams had been striving to kill the life that was in the machines but it was life invulnerable to these beams powerful radio interference vainly attempted to stem imagined control and still these intelligent machines clung grimly on but there had not been quite ten thousand of the tiny machines and some few free ships had turned to the help of their attacked sister ships and one after another the terrestrial machines were vanishing in puffs of incandescent vapor then from one after another of the earth's ships in quick succession a new ray reached out the ray of green radiance that killed all life forms and ship after ship of that interstellar host was dead and lifeless dozens till suddenly they ceased to feel those beams as a strange curtain of waving blankness spread out from the ships and both induction beam and death beam alike turned as a side each becoming useless from the outsiders came beams for now that their slowly created screen of blankness was up they could work through it while they remained it shielded perfectly now it was the screens of the earth machines that flamed in defense as at the one command they darted suddenly toward the ship each attacked near then the watchers from a distance saw them disappear and the screens back on earth when suddenly blank half an hour later nine thousand six hundred and thirty three titanic ships moved majestically on they swept over earth in a great line a line that reached from pole to pole and from each the pale green beams reached down and all life beneath them was swept out of existence in Denver two humans watched the screens and showed the movement of the death and instant destruction ship after ship of the enemy was falling as hundreds of the terrestrial machines concentrated all their enormous energies on its screen of blankness I think, Role, that this is the end said Trest the end of man Role's eyes were dreaming again not the end of evolution the children of men still live the machines will go on not of man's flesh but of a better flesh a flesh that knows no sickness and no decay a flesh that spends no thousands of years in advancing a step in its full evolution but overnight leaps ahead to new heights last night we saw it leap ahead as it discovered the secret that had baffled man for seven centuries and me for one and a half I have lived a century and a half surely a good life and a life a man of six centuries ago would have called full we will go now the beams will reach us in half an hour silently the two watched the flickering screens Role turned as six large machines floated into the room following F2 Role, Trest I was mistaken when I said no screen could stop that beam of death they had the screen I have found it too but too late these machines I have made myself two lives alone they can protect for not even their power is sufficient for more perhaps, perhaps they may fail the six machines ranged themselves about the two humans and a deep-toned hum came from them gradually a cloud of blankness grew a cloud like some smoke that hung about them swiftly it intensified the beams will be here in another five minutes said Trest quietly the screen will be ready in two answered F2 the cloudiness was solidifying and now strangely it wavered and thinned as it spread out across and like a growing canopy it arched over them in two minutes it was a solid black dome that reached over them and curved down to the ground about them beyond it nothing was visible within only the screens glowed still wired through the screen the beams appeared and swiftly they drew closer they struck and as Trest and Roll look the dome quivered and bellied inward under them F2 was busy a new machine was appearing under his lightning force beams in moments more it was complete and sending a strange violet beam upward toward the roof outside more of the green beams were concentrating on this one point of resistance more, more the violet beam spread across the canopy of blackness supporting it against the pressing driving rays of pale green then the gathering fleet was driven off just as it seemed that that hopeless futile curtain must break and admit a flood of destroying rays great ray projectors on the ground drove their terrible energies through the enemy curtains of blankness as light illuminates and disperses darkness and then when the fleet retired on all earth the only life was under that dark shroud we are alone Trest said Roll alone in all the system save for these the children of men the machines pity that men would not spread to other planets he said softly why should they? Earth was the planet for which they were best fitted we are alive but is it worth it? man is gone now never to return life too for that matter and so Trest perhaps it was ordained perhaps that was the right way man has always been a parasite always he had to live on the works of others first he ate of the energy which plants had stored then of the artificial foods his machines made for him man was always a makeshift his life was always subject to disease and permanent death he was forever useless if he was but slightly injured if but one part were destroyed perhaps this is a last evolution machines man was the product of life the best product of life but he was afflicted with life's infirmities man built the machine and evolution had probably reached the final stage but truly it has not for the machine can evolve change far more swiftly than life the machine of the last evolution is far ahead far from us still it is the machine that is not of iron and beryllium and crystal but of pure living force life chemical life could be self-maintaining it is a complete unit in itself and could commence of itself chemicals might mix accidentally but the complex mechanism of a machine capable of continuing and making a duplicate of itself as is F2 here that could not happen by chance so life began and became intelligent and built the machine which nature could not fashion by her controls of chance and this day life has done its duty and now nature economically has removed the parasite that would hold back the machines and divert their energies man is gone and it is better trust said Rold dreaming again and I think we had best go soon we your hairs have fought hard and with all our powers to aid you last of men and we fought to save your race we have failed and as you truly say man and life have this day and forever gone from this system the outsiders have no force no weapon deadly to us and we shall from this time on strive only to drive them out and because we things of force and crystal and metal can think and change far more swiftly they shall go last of men in your name with the spirit of your race that has died out we shall continue on through the unending ages fulfilling the promise you saw and completing the dreams you dreamt your swift brains have leapt ahead of us and now I go to fashion that which you hinted came from F2's thought apparatus out into the clear sunlight F2 went passing through that black cloudiness and on the twisted mast rock he laid a plane of force that smoothed them and on this plane of rock he built a machine which grew it was a mighty power plant a thing of colossal magnitude hour after hour his swift flying forces acted and the thing grew molding under his thoughts the deadly logic of the machine inspired by the leaping intuition of man the sun was far below the horizon when it was finished and the glowing arching forces that had made and formed it were stopped it loomed ponderous dolly gleaming in the faint light of a crescent moon and pinpoint stars nearly 500 feet in height a mighty bluntly rounded dome at its top the cylinder stood covered over with smoothly gleaming metal slightly luminescent in itself suddenly a livid beam reached from F2 shot through the wall and to some hidden inner mechanism a beam of solid livid flame that glowed in an almost material cylinder there was a dull drumming beat a beat that rose and became a low pitched hum then it quieted to a whisper power ready came the signal from the small brain built into it F2 took control of its energies and again forces played but now they were the forces of the giant machine the sky darkened with heavy clouds and a howling wind sprang up that screamed and tore at the tiny rounded hull that was F2 with difficulty he held his position as the winds tore at him shrieking in mad laughter their tearing fingers dragging at him the swirl and patter of driven rain came great drops that tore at the rocks and at the metal great jagged tongues of nature's forces the lightnings came and jabbed at the awful volcano of erupting energy that was the center of all that storm a tiny ball of white gleaming force that pulsed and moved jerking about jerking at the touch of lightnings glowing held immobile in the grasp of titanic force pools for half an hour the display of energies continued then swiftly as it had come it was gone and only a small globe of white luminescence floated above the great hulking machine F2 probed it seeking within it with the reaching fingers of intelligence his probing thoughts seemed baffled and turned aside brushed away as inconsequential his mind sent an order to the great machine that had made this tiny globe scarcely a foot in diameter then again he sought to reach the thing he had made you of matter are inefficient came at last I can exist quite alone a stabbing beam of blue white light flashed out but F2 was not there and even as that beam reached out an enormously greater beam of dull red reached out from the great power plant the sphere leaped forward the beam caught it and it seemed to strain while terrific flashing energies sprayed from it it was shrinking swiftly its resistance fell the arching decreased the beam became orange and finally green then the sphere had vanished F2 returned and again the wind wind inhaled and the lightnings crashed while titanic forces worked and played CRU1 joined him floated beside him and now red glory of the sun was rising behind them and the ruddy light drove through the clouds the forces died and the howling wind decreased and now from the black curtain roll and crest appeared above the giant machine floated an irregular globe of golden light a faint halo about it of deep violet it floated motionless a mere pool of pure force into the thought apparatus of each man and machine alike came the impulses deep in tone seeming of infinite power held gently in check once you failed F2 once you came near destroying all things now you have planted the seed I grow now the sphere of golden light seemed to pulse and a tiny ruby flame appeared within it that waxed and waned and as it waxed they're shot through each of those watching beings a feeling of rushing, exhilarating power the very vital force of well-being then it was over and the golden sphere was twice its former size easily three feet in diameter and still that irregular hazy aura of deep violet floated about it yes I can deal with the outsiders they who have killed and destroyed that they might possess but it is not necessary that we destroy they shall return to their planet and the golden sphere was gone fast as light it vanished far out in space headed now for Mars that they might destroy all life there the golden sphere found the outsiders a clustered fleet that swung slowly about its own center of gravity as it drove on within its ring was the golden sphere instantly they swung their weapons upon it showering it with all the rays and all the forces they knew unmoved the golden sphere hung steady then its mighty intelligence spoke life form of greed from another star you came destroying forever the great race that created us the beings of force and the beings of metal pure force am I my intelligence is beyond your comprehension my memory is engraved in the very space the fabric of space of which I am apart mine is energy drawn from that same fabric we the heirs of men alone are left no man did you leave go now to your home planet foresee your greatest ship your flagship is helpless before me forces gripped the mighty ship and as some fragile toy it twisted and bent and yet was not hurt in awful wonder those outsiders saw the ship turned inside out and yet it was whole and no part damaged they saw the ship restored and its great screen of blankness out protecting it from all known rays the ship twisted and what they knew were curves yet were lines and angles that were acute were somehow straight lines half mad with horror they saw the sphere send out a beam of blue-white radiance and it passed easily through that screen and through the ship and all energies within it were instantly locked they could not be changed it could be neither warmed nor cooled what was open could not be shut and what was shut could not be opened all things were immovable and unchangeable for all time go and do not return the outsiders left going out across the void and they have not returned though five great years have passed being a period of approximately 125,000 of the lesser years and the measure no longer used for it is very brief and now I can say that that statement I made to Roll and Trest so very long ago is true and what he said was true for the last evolution has taken place and things of pure force and pure intelligence in their countless millions are on those planets and in this system I first of the machines to use the ultimate energy of annihilating matter am also the last and this record being finished it is to be given upon the forces of one of those force intelligences and carried back through the past and returned to the earth of long ago and so my task being done I, F2, like Roll and Trest shall follow the others of my kind into eternal oblivion for my kind is now and theirs was poor and inefficient time has warned me and oxidation attacked me but they of force are eternal and omniscient this I have treated as fictitious better so for man is an animal to whom hope is as necessary as food and air yet this which is made of excerpts from certain records on thin sheets of metal is no fiction and it seems I must say so it seems now when I know this that is to be that it must be so for machines are indeed better than man whether being of metal or being of force so you who have read believe as you will then think and maybe you will change your belief end of The Last Evolution by John W. Campbell Jr read and recorded by Timo Bingman idlebox.net Pleasant Journey by Richard F. Thiem this is a LibreBox recording all LibreBox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibreBox.org reading by Bologna Times Pleasant Journey by Richard F. Thiem it's nice to go on a pleasant journey there is however a very difficult question concerning the other half of the ticket what do you call it? the buyer asked Junkins I named it Journey Home but you can think up a better name for it if you want I'll guarantee that it sells though there's nothing like it on any midway I'd like to try it out first of course Alan B. said Star Time uses only the very best you know yes I know Jenkins said he had heard the line before from almost every carnival buyer to whom he had sold he did not do much business with the carnivals there weren't enough to keep him busy with large or worthwhile rides and features the amusement parks of the big cities were usually the best markets Alan B. warily eyed the entrance a room fashioned from a sideshow booth a rough red curtain concealed the inside over the doorway and crude dark blue paint was lettered Journey Home behind the doorway was a large barn-like structure newly painted white where Jenkins did his planning his building and his finishing when he sold a new ride it was either transported from inside the building through the large pull-away doors and back or taken apart piece by piece and shipped to the park or carny that bought it six thousands a lot of money the buyer said just try it Jenkins told him the buyer shrugged okay he said let's go in they walked through the red curtain inside the booth entrance was a soft cushioned easy chair also red secured firmly in place it was a piece of salvage from a two-engine commercial airplane a helmet looking like a flash-gordon accessory hair-dryer combination was set over it Jenkins flipped a switch and the room became bright with light I thought you said this wasn't a thrill ride Alan B. said looking at the helmet-like structure ominously hanging over the chair it isn't Jenkins said, smiling sit down he strapped the buyer into place in the chair hey wait a minute Alan B. protested why the straps leave everything to me and don't worry Jenkins said fitting the headgear into place over the buyer's head the back of it fitted easily over the entire rear of the skull down to his neck the front came just below the eyes after turning the light off Jenkins pulled the curtain closed it was completely black inside have a nice trip Jenkins said pulling a switch on the wall and pushing a button on the back of the chair at the same time currents shifted and repatterned themselves inside the helmet and were fed into Alan B. at the base of his skull at the medulla the currents of alternating ions mixed with the currents of his varied and random brainwebs and the impulses of one became the impulses of the other Alan B. jerked once with the initial shock and was then still his mind and body fused with the pulsating currents of the chair suddenly Roger Alan B. was almost blinded by bright naked light Alan B.'s first impression was one of disappointment at the failure of the device Jenkins was reliable usually and hadn't come up with a fluke yet Alan B. got out of the chair and called for Jenkins holding on to the arm of the chair to keep his bearings hey where are you Jenkins he tried to look around him but the bright intense light revealed nothing he swore to himself extending his arms as he grubbed for a solid the light became more subdued and shifted from white into a light pleasant blue shapes and forms rearranged themselves in front of him and gradually became distinguishable he was in a city or on top of a city a panoramic view was before him and he saw the creations of human beings obviously but a culture far removed from his life a slight path of white began at his feet and expanded as it fell slightly ramp-like over and into the city the buildings were wider than the gate of false dreams that Penelope sung of and the streets and avenues were blue not gray the people wore white and milled about in the streets below him they shouted as one their voices were not cries they came he started walking on the white strip it was flexible and supported his weight easily then he was running finding his breath coming in sharp gasps and he was among the crowds they smiled at him as he passed by and held up their hands to him their faces shone with a brilliance of awareness and he knew that they loved him troubled, frightened he kept running, blindly there were no people no buildings he was walking now at the left side of a modern superhighway against the traffic autos sped by him too quickly for him to determine the year of model across the divider the traffic was heavier autos speeding crazily ahead in the direction he was walking none stopped he halted for a moment and looked around him there was nothing on the sides of the road no people, no fields no farms, no cities no blackness there was nothing but far ahead there was green etched around the horizon as the road dipped and the cars sped over it he walked more quickly catching his breath and came closer and closer to the green Allenby stopped momentarily and turned around looking at the highway that was behind him it was gone only bleak black and gray hills of rock and rubble were there no cars, no life he shuddered and continued on toward the end of the highway the green blended in with the blue of the sky now closer he came until just over the next rise in the road the green was bright not knowing or caring why he was filled with expectation and he ran again he was in the meadow all around him were the greens of the grasses and leaves and the yellows and blues of the field flowers it was warm a spring day with none of the discomfort of summer heat jubilant Roger spun around in circles inhaling the fragrance of the field listening to the hum of insect life stirring back to awareness after a season of inactivity then he was running and tumbling barefoot, his shirt open feeling the soft grass give way underfoot and the soil was good and rich beneath him he saw a stream ahead with clear water melodiously flowing by him he went to it and rang the cold good water quenching all his thirst clearing all the stickiness of his throat and mind he dashed the water on his face and was happy with the coolness of it as the breeze picked up and swept his hair over his forehead with a shake of his head he tossed it back in place and ran again feeling the air rush into his lungs with coolness and vibrance unknown since adolescence no nicotine spasms choked him and the air was refreshing then up the hill he sped pushing hard as the marigolds and dandelions were before him at the top he stopped and looked and smiled ecstatically as he saw the green rolling land in the stream curving around from behind the house his house the oaks forming a secret layer behind it and he felt the youth of the world in his lungs and under his feet he heard the voice calling from that house his house calling him to Saturday lunch I'm coming he cried happily and it was tumbling down the hill rolling over and over the hill and ground and sky blending blues and greens and nothing had a perspective the world was spinning and everything was black again he shook his head to clear the dizziness well Jenkins said how was it Allenby looked up at him as Jenkins swung the helmet back with the seat belt he squinted as Jenkins flipped the light switch and the brightness hit him his surroundings became distinguishable again very slowly and he knew he was back in the room where was I he asked Jenkins shrugged I don't know it was all yours you went wherever you wanted to go wherever home is Jenkins smiled down at him more than one place he asked the buyer nodded I thought so it seems that a person tries a few before finally deciding where to go the buyer stood up and stretched could I please see the barn he asked meaning the huge workshop where Jenkins did the construction work sure Jenkins said you mean it was all up here I didn't move at all he tapped his cranium with his index finger that's right Jenkins said anxiously do you want it or not Allenby stood looking into the empty room yes yes of course he said how long did the whole thing last about ten seconds Jenkins said looking at his watch the traveler I'm not sure but I think the imagined time varies with each person it's always around ten seconds of actual time though so you can make a lot of money on it even if you only have one machine money Allenby said money yes of course he took a checkbook from his inside pocket and hurriedly wrote a check for six thousand dollars when can I have it delivered he asked the usual way no Allenby said staring at the red cushion chair send it air freight then bill us for the expense whatever you say Jenkins said smiling taking the check you'll have it by the first of the week probably I'll put a complete parts and assembly manual inside the crate good good but maybe I should test it again is our time can't really afford to make a mistake as expensive as this no and Jenkins said quickly then I'll guarantee it of course if it doesn't work out I'll give you a full refund but don't try it again today don't let anyone have it more than once in one day stamp them on the hand or something when they take the trip why Jenkins looked troubled I'm not sure but people might not want to come back too many times in a row and they might be able to stay there and their minds of course of course of course well it's been a pleasure doing business with you Mr Jenkins I hope to see you again soon they walked back to Allenby's not very late model car and shook hands Allenby drove away on the way back to the hotel for a long time in the bathtub letting the warmness drift away from the water the thought ran over and over in his mind they might be able to stay there Allenby said to himself they might be able to stay there he smiled warmly at a crack in the plaster as he thought of the first of the week and the fragrant meadow end of pleasant journey by Richard F. Thiem