 THE CRYSTAL CRIPT by Philip K. Dick. READING by Greg Marguerite. THE CRYSTAL CRIPT by Philip K. Dick. Stark Terror ruled the interflight ship on that last Mars terror run, for the black clad ladders were on the prowl, and the grim red planet was not far behind. ATTENTION! INTERFLIGHT SHIP ATTENTION! YOU ARE ORDERED TO LAND AT THE CONTROL STATION ON DEMOS FOR INSPECTION! ATTENTION! YOU ARE TO LAND AT ONCE! The metallic rasp of the speaker echoed through the corridors of the great ship. The passengers glanced at each other uneasily murmuring and peering out the port windows at the small speck below, the dot of rock that was the Martian checkpoint demos. WHAT'S UP? An anxious passenger asked one of the pilots, hurrying through the ship to check the escape lock. We have to land, keep seated, the pilot went on. LAND? But why? They all looked at each other, hovering above the bulging interflight ship where three slender Martian pursuit craft poised an alert for any emergency. As the interflight ship prepared to land, the pursuit ships dropped lower, carefully maintaining themselves a short distance away. There's something going on, a woman passenger said nervously. Lord, I thought we were finally through with those Martians. NOW WHAT? I don't blame them for giving us one last going over, a heavy-set businessman said to his companion. After all, we're the last ship leaving Mars for Terra. We're damn lucky they let us go at all. You think there really will be a war, a young man said to the girl sitting in the seat next to him. Those Martians won't dare fight, not with our weapons and ability to produce. We could take care of Mars in a month. It's all talk. The girl glanced at him. Don't be so sure. Mars is desperate. They'll fight tooth and nail. I've been on Mars three years. She shuddered. Thank goodness I'm getting away. If—prepare to land—the pilot's voice came. The ship began to settle slowly, dropping down toward the tiny emergency field on the seldom-visited moon. Down, down the ship dropped. There was a grinding sound, a sickening jolt. Then silence. We've landed, the heavy-set businessman said. They better not do anything to us. Terra will rip them apart if they violate one space article. Please keep your seats, the pilot's voice came. The one is to leave the ship, according to the Martian authorities. We are to remain here. A restless stir filled the ship. Some of the passengers began to read uneasily. Others stared out at the deserted field, nervous and on edge, watching the three Martian pursuit ships land and disgorge groups of armed men. The Martian soldiers were crossing the field quickly, moving toward them, running double time. This inner-flight spaceship was the last passenger vessel to leave Mars for Terra. Several other ships had long since left, returning to safety before the outbreak of hostilities. The passengers were the very last to go, the final group of Terrans to leave the grim red planet, businessmen, expatriates, tourists, any and all Terrans who had not already gone home. What do you suppose they want, the young man said to the girl. It's hard to figure Martians out, isn't it? First they give the ship clearance, let us take off and now they radio us to set down again. By the way, my name's Thatcher, Bob Thatcher, since we're going to be here a while. The portlock opened. Talking ceased abruptly as everyone turned, a black clad Martian official, a province later stood framed against the bleak sunlight staring around the ship. Behind him a handful of Martian soldiers stood, waiting their guns ready. This will not take long, the later said, stepping into the ship, the soldiers following him. We allowed to continue your trip shortly. An audible sigh of relief went through the passengers. Look at him, the girl whispered to Thatcher, how I hate those black uniforms. He's just a provincial, later Thatcher said, don't worry. The later stood for a moment, his hands on his hips looking around at them without expression. I have ordered your ship grounded so that an inspection can be made of all persons aboard, he said. You Terrans are the last to leave our planet. Most of you are ordinary and harmless. I am not interested in you. I am interested in finding three saboteurs, three Terrans, two men and a woman who have committed an incredible act of destruction in violence. They are said to have fled to this ship. Murmurs of surprise and indignation broke out on all sides. The later motioned the soldiers to follow him up the aisle. Two hours ago a Martian city was destroyed. The city remains, only a depression in the sand where the city was. The city and all its people have completely vanished. An entire city destroyed in a second. Mars will never rest until the saboteurs are captured, and we know they are aboard this ship. It's impossible, the heavy-set businessman said. There aren't any saboteurs here. We'll begin with you, the later said to him, stepping up beside the man's seat. One of the soldiers passed the later a square metal box. This will soon tell us if you are speaking the truth. Stand up. Get on your feet. The man rose slowly, flushing. See here. Are you involved in the destruction of the city? Answer. The man swallowed angrily. I know nothing about any destruction of any city, and furthermore, he is telling the truth. The metal box said tonelessly. Next person, the later moved down the aisle. A thin bald-headed man stood up nervously. No, sir, he said, I don't know a thing about it. He is telling the truth, the box affirmed. Next person, stand up. One person after another stood, answered, and sat down again in relief. At last there were only a few people left who had not been questioned. The later paused, studying them intently. Only five left. The three must be among you. We have narrowed it down. His hand moved to his belt. Something flashed, a rod of pale fire. He raised the rod, pointing it steadily at the five people. All right. The first one of you, what do you know about this destruction? Are you involved with the destruction of our city? No, not at all, the man murmured. Yes, he is telling the truth, the box intoned. Next. Nothing. I know nothing. I had nothing to do with it. True, the box said. The ship was silent. Three people remained, a middle-aged man and his wife and their son, a boy of about twelve. They stood in the corner, staring white-faced at the later, at the rod in his dark fingers. It must be you, the later graded, moving toward them. The Martian soldiers raised their guns. It must be you. You there, the boy, what do you know about the destruction of our city? Answer. The boy shook his head. Nothing, he whispered. The box was silent for a moment. He is telling the truth, it said reluctantly. Next. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The truth. Next. I had nothing to do with blowing up your city, the man said. You're wasting your time. It is the truth, the box said. For a long time the later stood toying with his rod. At last he pushed it back in his belt and signaled the soldiers toward the exit lock. You may proceed on your trip, he said. He walked after the soldiers. At the hatch he stopped, looking back at the passengers, his face grim. You may go, but Mars will not allow her enemies to escape. The three saboteurs will be caught, I promise you. He rubbed his dark jaw thoughtfully. It is strange. I was certain they were on this ship. Again he looked coldly around at the Terrans. Perhaps I was wrong. All right, proceed. But remember, the three will be caught. Even if it takes endless years, Mars will catch them and punish them. I swear it. For a long time no one spoke. The ship lumbered through space again, its jets firing evenly, calmly, moving the passengers toward their own planet, toward home. Behind them Deimos and the red ball that was Mars dropped farther and farther away each moment, disappearing and fading into the distance. A sigh of relief passed through the passengers. What a lot of hot air that was, one grumbled. Barbarians, a woman said. A few of them stood up, moving out into the aisle toward the lounge and the cocktail bar. Beside Thatcher the girl got to her feet, pulling her jacket around her shoulders. Pardon me, she said, stepping past him. Going to the bar, Thatcher said, mind if I come along? I suppose not. They followed the others into the lounge, walking together up the aisle. You know, Thatcher said, I don't even know your name yet. My name is Mara Gordon. Mara, that's a nice name. What part of Tara are you from? America? New York? I've been in New York, Mara said. New York is very lovely. She was slender and pretty with a cloud of dark hair tumbling down her neck against her leather jacket. They entered the lounge and stood undecided. Let's sit at a table, Mara said, looking around at the people, at the bar, mostly men. Perhaps that table over there. But someone's already there, Thatcher said. The heavy-set businessman had sat down at the table and deposited his sample case on the floor. Do we want to sit with him? Oh, it's all right, Mara said, crossing to the table. May we sit here, she said to the man. The man looked up, half-rising. It's a pleasure, he murmured. He studied Thatcher intently. However, a friend of mine will be joining me in a moment. I'm sure there's room enough for all, Mara said. She seated herself and Thatcher helped her with her chair. He sat down, too, glancing up suddenly at Mara and the businessman. They were looking at each other, almost as if something had passed between them. The man was middle-aged with a florid face and tired gray eyes. His hands were modeled with the veins showing thickly. At the moment he was tapping nervously. My name's Thatcher, Thatcher said to him, holding out his hand. Bob Thatcher, since we're going to be together for a while, we might as well get to know each other. The man studied him. Slowly his hand came out. Why not? My name's Erickson. Ralph Erickson. Erickson. Thatcher smiled. You look like a commercial man to me. He nodded toward the sample case on the floor. Am I right? The man named Erickson started to answer, but at that moment there was a star. A thin man of about thirty had come up to the table, his eyes bright, staring down at them warmly. Well, we're on our way, he said to Erickson. Hello, Mara. He pulled out a chair and sat down quickly, folding his hands on the table before him. He noticed Thatcher and drew back a little. Pardon me, he murmured. Bob Thatcher's my name, Thatcher said. I hope I'm not intruding here. He glanced around at the three of them. Mara, alert, watching him intently, heavy-set Erickson, his face blank, and this person. Say, do you three know each other, he asked suddenly? There was silence. The robot attendant slid over soundlessly, poised to take their orders. Erickson roused himself. Let's see, he murmured. What will we have? Mara? Whiskey and Wooder. You, Jan? The bright, slim man smiled. The same. Thatcher? Gin and Tonic? Whiskey and Wooder, for me also, Erickson said. The robot attendant went off. It returned at once with the drinks, setting on the table. Each took his own. Well, Erickson said, holding his glass up, to our mutual success. All drank. Thatcher and the three of them, heavy-set Erickson, Mara, her eyes nervous and alert, Jan, who had just come. Again, a look past between Mara and Erickson, a look so swift that he would not have caught it had he not been looking directly at her. What line do you represent, Mr. Erickson? Thatcher asked. Erickson glanced at him, then down at the sample case on the floor. He grunted. Well, as you can see, I'm a salesman. Thatcher smiled. I knew it. You get so you can always spot a salesman right off by his sample case. A salesman always has to carry something to show. What are you in, sir? Erickson paused. He licked his lips, his eyes blank and litted like a toad. At last he rubbed his mouth with his hand and reached down, lifting up the sample case. He set it on the table in front of him. Well, he said, perhaps we might even show Mr. Thatcher. They all stared down at the sample case. It seemed to be an ordinary leather case with a metal handle and a snap lock. I'm getting curious, Thatcher said. What's in there? You're also tense. Diamonds? Stolen jewels? Jan laughed harshly, mirthlessly. Erick put it down. We're not far enough away yet. Nonsense, Erick rumbled. We're away, Jan. Please, Mara whispered, wait, Erick. Wait? Why? What for? You're so accustomed to— Erick, Mara said. She nodded towards Thatcher. We don't even know him, Erick. Please. He's a tyrant, isn't he, Erickson said? All tyrants are together in these times. He fumbled suddenly at the catchlock on the case. Yes, Mr. Thatcher, I'm a salesman. We're all salesmen, the three of us. Then you do know each other. Yes, Erickson nodded, his two companions sat rigidly staring down. Yes, we do. Here, I'll show you our line. He opened the case. From it he took a letter knife, a pencil sharpener, a glass globe paperweight, a box of thumb tacks, a stapler, some clips, a plastic ashtray, and some things Thatcher could not identify. He placed the objects in a row in front of him on the tabletop, then he closed the sample case. I gather you're in office supplies, Thatcher said. He touched the letter knife with his finger. Nice quality steel. Looks like Swedish steel to me. Erickson nodded, looking into Thatcher's face. Not really an impressive business, is it? Office supplies, ashtrays, paper clips. He smiled. Oh, Thatcher shrugged. Why not? There are a necessity in modern business. The only thing I wonder—what's that? Well, I wonder how you ever find enough customers on Mars to make it worth your while? He paused, examining the glass paperweight. He lifted it up, holding it to the light, staring at the scene within until Erickson took it out of his hand and put it back in the sample case. And another thing. If you three know each other, why did you sit apart when you got on? They looked at him quickly. And why didn't you speak to each other until we left Deimos? He leaned towards Erickson, smiling at him. Two men and a woman, three of you, sitting apart in the ship, not speaking until the check station was passed. I find myself thinking over what the Martians said. Three saboteurs, a woman and two men. Erickson put the things back in the sample case. He was smiling, but his face had gone chalk-white. Anna stared down, playing with a drop of water on the edge of her glass. Jan clenched his hands together nervously, blinking rapidly. You three are the ones the later was after, Thatcher said softly. You are the destroyers, the saboteurs. But they're lie detector. Why didn't it trap you? How did you get by that? And now you're safe outside the check station. He grinned, staring around at them. I'll be damned. And I really thought you were a salesman, Erickson. You really fooled me. Well, Mr. Thatcher, it's in a good cause. I'm sure you have no love for Mars, either. No terror in does, and I see you're leaving with the rest of us. True, Thatcher said, you must certainly have an interesting account to give, the three of you. He looked around the table. We still have an hour or so of travel. Sometimes it gets dull. This Mars terror run. Nothing to see, nothing to do, but sit and drink in the lounge. He raised his eyes slowly. Any chance you'd like to spin a story to keep us awake? Jan and Mara looked at Erickson. Go on, Jan said. He knows who we are. Tell him the rest of the story. You might as well, Mara said. Jan let out a sigh, suddenly, a sigh of relief. Let's put the cards on the table. Get this weight off us. I'm tired of sneaking around, slipping. Sure, Erickson said, expansively, why not? He settled back in his chair, unbuttoning his vest. Suddenly Mr. Thatcher, I'll be glad to spin you a story, and I'm sure it will be interesting enough to keep you awake. They ran through the groves of dead trees, leaping across the sun-baked Martian soil, running silently together. They went up a little rise across a narrow ridge. Suddenly Erick stopped, throwing himself down flat on the ground. The others did the same, pressing themselves against the soil, gasping for breath. Be silent, Erick muttered. He raised himself a little. No noise. They'll be later nearby from now on. We don't dare take any chances. Between the three people lying in the grove of dead trees and the city was a barren level waste of desert. Over a mile of blasted sand, no trees or bushes marred this smooth, parched surface. Only an occasional wind, a dry wind, eddying and twisting blew this sand up into little rills. A faint odor came to them, a bitter smell of heat and sand carried by the wind. Erick pointed. Look! The city! There it is. They stared, still breathing deeply from their race through the trees. The city was close, closer than they had ever seen it before. Never had they gotten so close to it in times past. Terrans were never allowed near the great Martian cities, the centers of Martian life. Even in ordinary times, when there was no threat of approaching war, the Martians shrewdly kept all Terrans away from their citadels, partly from fear, partly from a deep, innate sense of hostility toward the white-skinned visitors whose commercial ventures had earned them the respect and the dislike of the whole system. How does it look to you, Erick said? The city was huge, much larger than they had imagined from the drawings and models they had studied so carefully back in New York in the War Ministry office. Huge it was, huge and stark, black towers rising up against the sky, incredibly thin columns of ancient metal, columns that had stood wind and sun for centuries. Around the city was a wall of stone, red stone, immense bricks that had been lugged there and fitted into place by slaves of the early Martian dynasties under the whiplash of the first great kings of Mars. An ancient sun-baked city, a city set in the middle of a wasted plain beyond groves of dead trees, a city seldom seen by Terrans, but a city studied on maps and charts in every war-office on Terra, a city that contained for all its ancient stone and archaic towers the ruling group of all Mars, the Council of Senior-Laders, black clad men who governed and ruled with an iron hand. The Senior-Laders, twelve fantastic and devoted men, black priests, but priests with flashing rods of fire, lie detectors, rocket ships, interspace cannon, and many more things the Terrans Senate could only conjecture about the Senior-Laders and their subordinate Provence-Laders. Eric and the two behind him suppressed a shudder. "'We've got to be careful,' Eric said again. "'We'll be passing among them soon if they guess who we are or what we're here for.' He snapped open the case he carried, glancing inside for a second. Then he closed it again, grasping the handle firmly. "'Let's go,' he said. He stood up slowly. "'You two, come up beside me. I want to make sure you look the way you should.' Mara and Jan stepped quickly ahead. Eric studied them critically as the three of them walked slowly down the slope onto the plane toward the towering black spires of the city. "'Jan,' Eric said, "'take hold of her hand. Remember you're going to marry her. She's your bride, and Martian peasants think a lot of their brides.' Jan was dressed in this short trousers and coat of the Martian farmer, a knotted rope tied around his waist a hat on his head to keep off the sun. His skin was dark, colored by dye until it was almost bronze. "'You look fine,' Eric said to him.' He glanced at Mara. Her black hair was tied in a knot looped through a hollowed-out yoke-bone. Her face was dark, too, dark and lined with colored ceremonial pigment green and orange stripes across her cheeks. Earrings were strung through her ears. On her feet were tiny slippers of Peru hide, laced around her ankles, and she wore long translucent Martian trousers with a bright sash tied around her waist. In her small breasts a chain of stone beads rested, good luck charms for the coming marriage. "'All right,' Eric said. He himself wore the flowing gray robe of a Martian priest, dirty robes that were supposed to remain on him all his life to be buried around him when he died. "'I think we'll get past the guards. There should be heavy morning traffic on the road.' They walked on, the hard sand crunching under their feet. Against the horizon they could see specks moving, other persons going towards the city, farmers and peasants and merchants bringing their crops and goods to market. "'See the cart,' Mara exclaimed. They were nearing a narrow road. Two ruts worn into the sand. A Martian Huffa was pulling the cart its great sides wet with perspiration, its tongue hanging out. The cart was piled high with bails of cloth, rough country cloth, hand dipped. A bent farmer urged the Huffa on. "'And there,' she pointed, smiling. The group of merchants riding small animals were moving along behind the cart. Martians in long robes, their faces hidden by sand-masks. On each animal was a pack, carefully tied on with rope, and beyond the merchants plotting dolly along were peasants and farmers in an endless procession, some riding carts or animals, but mostly on foot. Mara and Jan and Eric joined the line of people, melting in behind the merchants. No one noticed them, no one looked up or gave any sign. The march continued as before. Neither Jan nor Mara said anything to each other. They walked a little behind Eric, who paced with a certain dignity, a certain bearing, becoming his position. Once he slowed down, pointing up at the sky. "'Look,' he murmured in the Martian Hill dialect. "'See that?' Two black dots circled lazily. Martian patrol craft, the military on the outlook for any sign of unusual activity. Mara was almost ready to break out with terror, any day, almost any moment. "'We'll be just in time,' Eric said. "'Tomorrow will be too late. The last ship will have left Mars.' "'I hope nothing stops us,' Mara said. "'I want to get back home when we're through.'" Half an hour passed. They neared the city, the wall growing as they walked, rising higher and higher until it seemed to blot out the sky itself. A vast wall, a wall of eternal stone that had felt the wind and sun for centuries. A group of Martian soldiers were standing at the entrance, the single passage gate hewn into the rock leading to the city. As each person went through, the soldiers examined him, poking his garments, looking into his load. Eric tensed. The line had slowed almost to a halt. "'It'll be our turn soon,' he murmured. "'Be prepared.'" "'Let's hope no ladders come around,' Jan said. The soldiers aren't so bad. Mara was standing up at the wall and the towers beyond. Under their feet the ground trembled, vibrating and shaking. She could see tongues of flame rising from the towers from the deep underground factories and forges of the city. The air was thick and dense with particles of soot. Mara rubbed her mouth, coughing. "'Here they come,' Eric said softly. The merchants had been examined and allowed to pass through the dark gate, the entrance through the wall into the city. They and their silent animals had already disappeared inside. The leader of the group of soldiers was beckoning impatiently to Eric, waving him on. "'Come along,' he said. "'Hurry up there, old man.'" Eric advanced slowly. His arms wrapped around his body, looking down at the ground. "'Who are you and what's your business here?' the soldier demanded, his hands on his hips, his gun hanging idly at his waist. Most of the soldiers were lounging lazily, leaning against the wall, some even squatting in the shade. He's crawled on the face of one who had fallen asleep, his gun on the ground beside him. "'My business,' Eric murmured, "'I am a village priest. Why do you want to enter the city? I must bring these two people before the magistrate to marry them,' he indicated Mara and Jan standing a little behind him. "'That is the law the laders have made.'" The soldier laughed. He circled around Eric. "'What do you have in that bag you carry?' "'Laundry. We. Stay the night.' "'What village are you from?' "'Cranos.' "'Cranos,' the soldier looked to a companion. "'Every here of Cranos?' "'A backward pig-stie. I saw it once on a hunting trip.' "'The leader of the soldiers nodded to Jan and Mara. The two of them advanced, their hands clasped, standing close together. One of the soldiers put his hand on Mara's bare shoulder, turning her around. "'Nice little wife you're getting,' he said. "'Good and firm-looking.'" He winked, grinning loodly. Jan glanced at him in sullen resentment. The soldiers gaffawed. "'All right,' the leader said to Eric, "'you people can pass.'" Eric took a small purse from his robes and gave the soldier a coin. Then the three of them went into the dark tunnel that was the entrance passing through the wall of stone into the city beyond. They were within the city. Now Eric whispered, "'Hurry!' Around them the city roared and cracked, the sound of a thousand vents and machines shaking the stones under their feet. Eric led Mara and Jan into a corner by a row of brick warehouses. People were everywhere, hurrying back and forth, shouting above the din, merchants, peddlers, soldiers, street women. Eric bent down and opened the case he carried. From the case he quickly took three small coils of fine metal, intricate meshed wires and veins worked together into a small cone. Jan took one and Mara took one. Eric put the remaining cone into his robe and snapped the case shut. Now remember, the coils must be buried in such a way that the line runs through the center of the city. We must trisect the main section where the largest concentration of buildings is. Remember the maps. Watch the alleys and streets carefully. Talk to no one if you can help it. Each of you has enough Martian money to buy your way out of trouble. Watch especially for cut purses and for heaven's sake. Get lost! Eric broke off. Two black-clad ladders were coming along the inside of the wall, strolling together with their hands behind their backs. They noticed the three who stood in the corner by the warehouses and stopped. Go, Eric muttered, and be back here at sundown, he smiled grimly, or never come back. Each went off a different way, walking quickly without looking back. The ladders watched them go. Little Bride was quite lovely, one leader said. Those hill-people have the stamp of nobility in their blood from the old times. A very lucky young peasant to possess her, the other said. They went on. Eric looked after them, still smiling a little. Then he joined the surging mass of people that milled eternally through the streets of the city. At dusk they met outside the gate. The sun was soon to set, and the air had turned thin and frigid. It cut through their clothing like knives. Mara huddled against Jan, trembling and rubbing her bare arms. Well, Eric said, did you both succeed? Around them peasants and merchants were pouring from the entrance, leaving the city to return to their farms and villages, starting the long trip back across the plane toward the hills beyond. None of them noticed the shivering girl and the young man and the old priest standing by the wall. Mines in place, Jan said, on the other side of the city on the extreme edge, buried by a well. In the industrial section Mara whispered her teeth chattering. Jan, give me something to put over me. I'm freezing! Good! Eric said. Then the three coils should trisect dead center if the models were correct. He looked up at the darkening sky. Already stars were beginning to show. Two dots, the evening patrol, moved slowly toward the horizon. Let's hurry. It won't be long. They joined the line of Martians moving along the road away from the city. And then the city was losing itself in the somber tones of night its black spires disappearing into darkness. They walked silently with the country people until the flat ridge of dead trees became visible on the horizon. Then they left the road and turned off, walking towards the trees. Almost time, Eric said, he increased his pace looking back at Jan and Mara impatiently. Come on! They hurried, making their way through the twilight, stumbling over rocks and dead branches up the side of the ridge. At the top Eric halted, standing with his hands on his hips, looking back. See, he murmured, the city. The last time we'll ever see it this way. Can I sit down, Mara said? My feet hurt me. Jan pulled at Eric's sleeve. Hurry, Eric, not much time left. He laughed nervously. If everything goes right, we'll be able to look at it forever. But not like this, Eric murmured. He squatted down, snapping his case open. He took some tubes and wiring out and assembled them together on the ground at the peak of the ridge. A small pyramid of wire and plastic grew, shaped by his expert hands. At last he grunted, standing up. All right. Is it pointed directly at the city, Mara asked anxiously, looking down at the pyramid. Eric nodded. Yes, it's placed according—he stopped suddenly stiffening. Get back! It's time! Hurry! Jan ran down the far side of the slope, away from the city, pulling Mara with him. Eric came quickly after looking back at the distant spires almost lost in the night sky. Down! Jan sprawled out. Mara beside him, her trembling body pressed against his. Eric settled down into the sand and dead branches still trying to see. I want to see it, he murmured. A miracle! I want to see! A flash, a blinding burst of violet light lit up the sky. Eric clapped his hands over his eyes. The flash whitened, growing larger, expanding. Suddenly there was a roar and a furious hot wind rushed past him, throwing him on his face in the sand. The hot dry wind licked and seared at them, crackling the bits of branches into flame. Mara and Jan shut their eyes, pressed tightly together. God! Eric muttered. The storm passed. They opened their eyes slowly. The sky was still alive with fire, a drifting cloud of sparks that was beginning to dissipate with the night wind. Eric stood up unsteadily, helping Jan and Mara to their feet. The three of them stood, staring silently across the dark waste, the black plain, none of them speaking. The city was gone. At last Eric turned away. That part's done, he said. Now the rest. Give me a hand, Jan. There'll be a thousand patrol ships around here in a minute. I see one already, Mara said, pointing up. A spot winked in the sky, a rapidly moving spot. There coming, Eric, there was a throb of chill fear in her voice. I know. Eric and Jan squatted on the ground around the pyramid of tubes and plastic pulling the pyramid apart. The pyramid was fused, fused together like molten glass. Eric tore the pieces away with trembling fingers. From the remains of the pyramid he pulled something forth, something he held up high, trying to make it out in the darkness. Jan and Mara came close to sea, both staring up intently, almost without breathing. There it is, Eric said, there. And his hand was a globe, a small, transparent globe of glass. Within the glass something moved, something minute and fragile, spires almost too small to be seen, microscopic, a complex web swimming within the hollow glass globe, a web of spires, a city. Eric put the globe into the case and snapped it shut. Let's go, he said. They began to look back through the trees, back the way they had come before. We'll change in the car, he said, as they run. I think we should keep these clothes on until we're actually inside the car. We still might encounter someone. I'll be glad to get my own clothing on again, Jan said. I feel funny in these little pants. How do you think I feel, Mara, guest? I'm freezing in this, what there is of it. All young Martian brides dressed that way, Eric said. He clutched the case tightly as they ran. I think it looks fine. Thank you, Mara said, but it's cold. What do you suppose they'll think, Jan asked? They'll assume the city was destroyed, won't they? That's certain. Yes, Eric said. They'll be sure it was blown up. We can count on that, and it will be damn important to us that they think so. The car should be around here someplace, Mara said, slowing down. No, farther on, Eric said, past that little hill over there in the ravine by the trees. It's so hard to see where we are. Shall I light something, Jan said? No, there may be patrols around Hoop. He halted abruptly. Jan and Mara stopped beside him. Right. Mara began. A light glimmered. Something stirred in the darkness. There was a sound. Quick! Eric grasped. He dropped, throwing the case far away from him into the bushes. He straightened up, tensely. A figure loomed up, moving through the darkness, and behind it came more figures—men, soldiers in uniform. The light flashed up brightly, blinding them. Eric closed his eyes. The light left him, touching Mara and Jan, standing silently together, clasping hands. They flicked down to the ground and around in a circle. A later stepped forward, a tall figure in black, with his soldiers close behind him, their guns ready. You three, the later said, Who are you? Don't move. Stand where you are. He came up to Eric, peering at him intently, his hard, Martian face without expression. He went all around Eric, examining his robes, his sleeves. Please, Eric began in a quavering voice, but the later cut him off. I'll do the talking. Who are you three? What are you doing here? Speak up. We—we are going back to our village, Eric muttered, staring down his hands folded. We were in the city, and now we are going home. One of the soldiers spoke into a mouthpiece. He clicked it off and put it away. Come with me, the later said. We're taking you in. Hurry along. In? Back to the city? One of the soldiers laughed. The city is gone, he said. All that's left of it you can put in the palm of your hand. But what happened, Mara said? No one knows. Come on. Hurry it up. There was a sound. A soldier came quickly out of the darkness. A senior later, he said, coming this way. He disappeared again. A senior later, the soldiers stood, waiting, standing at respectful attention. A moment later, the senior later stepped into the light, a black, clad old man, his ancient face thin and hard, like a bird's eyes bright and alert. He looked from Eric to Jan. Who are these people, he demanded? Villagers, going back home? No, they're not. They don't stand like villagers. Villagers slump. Diet. Poor food. These people are not villagers. I myself came from the hills and I know. He stepped close to Eric, looking keenly into his face. Who are you? Look at his chin. He's never shaved with a sharpened stone. Something is wrong here. In his hand a rod of pale fire flashed. The city is gone, and with it at least half the later council. It is very strange, a flash, then heat, and a wind. But it was not fission. I am puzzled. All at once the city has vanished. Nothing is left but a depression in the sand. We'll take them in, the other later said. Soldiers, surround them. Make certain that— Run! Eric cried. He struck out, knocking the rod from the senior later's hand. They were all running, soldiers shouting, flashing their lights, stumbling against each other in the darkness. Eric dropped to his knees, groping frantically in the bushes. His fingers closed over the handle of the case, and he leapt up. In terror he shouted to Mara and Jan, Harry, to the car! Run! He set off down the slopes, thumbling through the darkness. He could hear soldiers behind him, soldiers running and falling. A body collided against him, and he struck out. Some place behind him there was a hiss, and a section of the slope went up in flames. The later's rod. Eric Mara cried from the darkness. He ran toward her. Suddenly he slipped, falling on a stone. Even in firing, the sound of excited voices. Eric, is that you? Jan caught hold of him, helping him up. The car! It's over here. Where's Mara? I'm here, Mara's voice came, over here by the car. A light flashed. A tree went up in a puff of fire, and Eric felt the singe of the heat against his face. He and Jan made their way toward the girl. Mara's hand caught his in the darkness. Now the car, Eric said, if they haven't got to it, he slid down the slope into the ravine, fumbling in the darkness, reaching and holding onto the handle of the case, reaching, reaching. He touched something cold and smooth. Metal. A metal door handle. Relief flooded through him. I found it, Jan. Get inside. Mara, come on! He pushed Jan past him into the car. Mara slipped in after Jan, her small, agile body crowding in beside him. Stop! A voice shouted from above. There's no use hiding in that ravine. We'll get you. Come up and— The sound of voices was drowned out by the roar of the car's motor. A moment later they shot into the darkness, the car rising into the air. Tree tops broke and crackled under them as Eric turned the car from side to side, avoiding the groping shafts of pale light from below. The last furious thrusts from the two laders and their soldiers. Then they were away, above the trees, high in the air, gaining speed each moment, leaving the knot of Martians far behind. Called Marsport, Jan said to Eric, right? Eric nodded. Yes, we'll land outside the field in the hills. We can change back to our regular clothing there or our commercial clothing. Damn it! We'll be lucky if we can get there in time for the ship. The last ship, Mara whispered, her chest rising and falling. What if we don't get there in time? Eric looked down at the lettercase in his lap. We'll have to get there, he murmured. We must! For a long time there was silence. The soldiers stared at Erickson. The older man was leaning back in his chair, sipping a little of his drink. Mara and Jan were silent. So you didn't destroy the city, Thatcher said. You didn't destroy it at all. You shrank it down and put it in a glass globe in a paperweight. And now you're salesman again, with a sample case of office supplies. Erickson smiled. He opened the briefcase and reached into it. He brought out the glass globe paperweight. He held it up, looking into it. Yes. That's the city from the Martians. That's how we got by the lie detector. It was true that we knew nothing about a destroyed city. But why, Thatcher said, why steal a city? Why not merely bomb it? Ransom, Mara said, fervently gazing into the globe, her dark eyes bright. Their biggest city, half of their council, in Erick's hand. Mars will have to do what Tara asks, Erickson said. Now Tara will be able to make her commercial demands felt. Maybe there won't even be a war. Because Tara will get her way without fighting. Still smiling he put the globe back into the briefcase and locked it. Quite a story, Thatcher said. What an amazing process! Reduction of size! A whole city reduced to microscopic dimensions. Amazing! No wonder you were able to escape. With such daring as that, no one could hope to stop you. He looked down at the briefcase on the floor. Underneath them the jets murmured and vibrated evenly as the ship moved through space toward distant Tara. We still have quite a way to go, Jan said. You've heard our story, Thatcher. Why not tell us yours? What sort of line are you in? What's your business? Yes, Mara said. What do you do? What do I do, Thatcher said? Well, if you like, I'll show you. He reached into his coat and brought out something. Something that flashed and glinted. Something slender. A rod of pale fire. The three stared at it. Sick and shocked, settled over them slowly. Thatcher held the rod loosely, calmly, pointing it at Erickson. We knew you three were on the ship, he said. There was no doubt of that. But we did not know what had become of the city. My theory was that the city had not been destroyed at all, that something else had happened to it. Council instruments measured a sudden loss of mass in that area, a decrease equal to the mass of the city. Somehow the city had been spirited away, not destroyed. But I could not convince the other council leaders of it. I had to follow you alone. Thatcher turned a little, nodding to the men sitting at the bar. The men rose at once, coming toward the table. A very interesting process you have. Mars will benefit a great deal from it. Perhaps it will even turn the tide in our favor. When we return to Marsport, I wish to begin work on it at once. And now, if you will, please pass me the briefcase. End of The Crystal Crypt by Philip K. Dick The Gift Bearer by Charles L. Fontenay This could well have been Moncombe's greatest opportunity, a chance to bring mankind priceless gifts from worlds beyond. But Moncombe was a solid family man. It was one of those rare strokes of poetic something or other, that the whole business occurred the morning after the stormy meeting of the Traskmore Censorship Board. Like the good general he was, Richard J. Moncombe had foreseen trouble at this meeting, for it was the boldest invasion yet into the territory of evil and laxity. His forces were marshaled. All of the town's ministers, who had been with him on other issues, had balked on this one. But he had three of them present, as well as heads of several women's clubs. As he had anticipated, the irresponsible liberals were present to do battle, headed by red-headed Patrick Leavitt. This board, said Leavitt, and his strong, sarcastic voice, has gone too far. It was all right to get rid of the actual filth, and everyone will agree there was some. But when you banned the sale of some magazines and books, because they had racy covers, or because the contents were a little too sophisticated to suit the taste of members of this board, well, you can carry protection of our youth to the point of insulting the intelligence of adults who have a right to read what they want to. We're talking about something that's already in the past, Mr. Leavitt. Said Moncom, mildly. Let's keep to the issue at hand. You won't deny that children see this indecent statue every day. Now I won't deny it. Snap Leavitt. Why shouldn't they see it? They can see the plate of the original in the Encyclopedia. It's a fine copy of a work of art. Moncom waited for some rebuttal from his supporters, but none was forthcoming. On this matter they apparently were unwilling to go farther than the moral backing of their presence. I do not consider the statue of a naked woman art, even if it is called Don, he said, bitingly. He looked at his two colleagues, and received their nods of acquiescence. He ruled. The statue must be removed from the park and from public view. Leavitt had one parting shot. What had solved the board's problem if we put a brassiere and panties on the statue? He demanded. Mr. Leavitt's levity is not amusing. The board has ruled, said Moncom, coldly, arising to signify the end of the meeting. That night Moncom slept the satisfied sleep of the just. He awoke shortly after Don to find a strange, utterly beautiful naked woman in his bedroom. For a bemused instant Moncom thought the statue of Don in the park had come to haunt him. His mouth fell open, but he was unable to speak. Take me to your president, said the naked woman musically, with an accent that could have been Martian. Mrs. Moncom awoke. What's that? What is it, Richard? She asked sleepily. Don't look, Millie, exclaimed Moncom, clapping a hand over her eyes. Nonsense! She snapped, pushing his hand aside and setting up. She gasped, and her eyes went wide, and in an instinctive, unreasonable reaction she clutched the covers up around her own nightgown bosom. Who are you, young woman? demanded Moncom indignantly. How did you get in here? I am a visitor from what you would call an alien planet, she said. Of course, she added thoughtfully, it is an alien to me. This woman's mad, said Moncom to his wife. A warning sound sounded in the adjoining bedroom. Alarmed he instructed, go and keep the children out of here, until I can get her to put on some clothes. They mustn't see her like this. Mrs. Moncom got out of bed, but she gave her husband a searching glance. Are you sure I can trust you in here with her? She asked. Milly! exclaimed Moncom sternly, shocked. She dropped her eyes and left the room. When the door closed behind her, he turned to the strange woman and said, Now look, young lady, I'll get you one of Milly's dresses. You'll have to get some clothes on and leave. Aren't you going to ask me my name? asked the woman. Of course it's unpronounceable to you, but I thought that was the first thing all earth people asked visitors from other planets. All right, he said in exasperation. What's your name? She said an unpronounceable word and added, You may call me Liz. Moncom went to the closet and found one of Milly's house-dresses. He held it out to her, beseechingly. As he did so he was stricken with a sudden sharp feeling of regret that she must don it. Her figure, why, Milly had never had a figure like that. At once he felt ashamed and disloyal and sterner than ever. Liz rejected the proffered garment. I wouldn't think of adopting your alien custom of wearing clothing, she said sweetly. Now look, said Moncom, I don't know whether you're drunk or crazy, but you're going to have to put something on and get out of here before I call the police. I anticipated doubt, said Liz. I'm prepared to prove my identity. With the words the two of them were no longer standing in the Moncom bedroom, but in a broad expanse of green fields and woodland, unmarred by any habitation. Moncom didn't recognize the spot, but it looked vaguely like it might be somewhere in the northern part of the state. Moncom was dismayed to find that he was as naked as his companion. Oh, my lord! he exclaimed, trying to cover himself with a September mourn pose. Oh, I'm sorry! Apologized Liz, and instantly Moncom's pajamas were lying at his feet. He got into them hurriedly. How did we get here? he asked, his astonished curiosity overcoming his disapproval of this immodest woman. By a mode of transportation common to my people and planetary atmospheres, she answered, it's one of the things I propose to teach your people. She sat down cross-legged on the grass. Moncom averted his eyes, like the gentleman he was. You see, said Liz, the people of your world are on the verge of going to space and joining the community of worlds. It's only natural the rest of us should wish to help you. We have a good many things to give you, to help you control the elements and natural conditions of your world. The weather, for example. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a small cloud appeared above them, and spread, blocking out the early sun. It began to rain, hard. The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and the cloud dissipated. Moncom stood shivering in his soaked pajamas, and Liz got to her feet, her skin glistening with moisture. You have a problem raising food for your population in some areas, she said. A small, haw apple tree near them suddenly began to grow at an amazing rate of speed. It doubled its size in three minutes, put forth fruit, and dropped it to the ground. These are only a few of the things I'll gift to your planet, she said. At her words, they were back in the bedroom. This time she had been thoughtful. Moncom was still clad in wet pajamas. I don't know what sort of hypnosis this is, he began aggressively, but you can't fool me, young lady, into believing. Millie came into the room. She had donned a robe over her nightgown. Richard, where have you been with this woman? She demanded. Why, my dear, you've been roaming around the house somewhere with her. I came in here a moment ago, and you were gone. Now, Richard, I want you to do something about her and stop fooling around. I can't keep the children in their room all day. It hadn't been hypnosis, then, but Liz was for real. A vision rose before Moncom of mankind, given wonders, powers, benefits, representing advances of thousands of years. The world could become a paradise with the things she offered to teach. Millie, this woman is from another planet, he exclaimed excitedly, and turned to Liz. Why did you choose me to contact on Earth? Why, I happened to land near your house. She answered, I know how your primitive social organization is set up, but isn't one human being just as good as another to lead me to the proper authorities? Yes, he said joyfully, visualizing black headlines in his picture in the papers. Millie stood to one side, puzzled and grim at once. Moncom picked up the house dress he had taken from the closet earlier. I now miss, he said, if you'll just put this on, I'll take you to the mayor, and he can get in touch with Washington at once. I told you, said Liz, I don't want to adopt your custom of wearing clothing. But you can't go out in public like that, said the dismayed Moncom. If you're going to move among Earth people, you must dress as we do. My people wouldn't demand that Earth people disrobe to associate with us, she countered, reasonably. Millie had had enough, she went into action. You could argue with this hussy all you like, Richard, but I'm going to call the police, she said, and left the room with determination in her eye. The next fifteen minutes were agonizing for Moncom as he tried futilely to get Liz to dress like a decent person. He was torn between realization of what the things she offered would mean to the world and his own sense of the fitness of things. His children, the children of Traskmore, the children of the world, what would be the effect on their tender morals to realize that a sane adult was willing to walk around in brazen nakedness? There was a pounding on the front door and the voice of Millie inviting the law into the house. Now I'm afraid you're due to go to jail, said Moncom mournfully, but when they get some clothes on you I'll try to explain it and get you an audience with the mayor. Two blue-clad policemen entered the room. One policeman took the house dress from Moncom's lax fingers and tossed it over Liz's head without further ado. Liz did not struggle. She looked at Moncom with a quizzical expression. I'm sorry, she said. My people made a mistake. If you earth people aren't tolerant enough to accept a difference in customs of dress, I'm afraid you're too immature. With that she was gone like a puff of air. The astonished policeman held an empty dress. Moncom didn't see the flying saucer that whizzed over Traskmore that morning and disappeared into the sky, but he didn't doubt the reports. He debated with himself for a long time whether he had taken the right attitude, but decided he had. After all, there were the children to consider. End of The Gift Bearer by Charles L. Fontenay. Out of this World Convention. 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 Joseph Nagy. Out of this World Convention by Forrest James Ackerman. I was a spy for the FBI, the Fantasy Bureau of Investigation. Learning of a monster meeting of science fiction Fenn in New York, I teleported myself 3,000 miles from the Pacific Coast to check the facts on the monsters. And it was true, the 14th World Sci-Fi Con was tremendous. In all seriousness, the New York Con was one of the greatest aggregations of sci-fi enthusiasts I've ever seen. A far cry from the Nikon. The first World Sci-Fi Con of 17 years before, when the turnout of 125 was considered colossal. Now, more than 1,200 fans, authors, editors, artists, publishers, agents, anthologists, reviewers, and readers of science fiction and fantasy registered for the Labor Day weekend. It was a gathering of the clans, a conclave of the slands. From 37 of the 48 states they came, and from Canada, Cuba, England, Germany, India, Israel, and the West Indies. The roll call of celebrities read like the who's who of sci-fi proton. Theodore Sturgeon, Isaac Asimov, Fritz Lieber, Willie Lay, Nelson Bond, John W. Campbell Jr., L. Sprague de Comp, James Blish, Judith Merrill, Ted Carnell, editor of New World, Kelly Frias, Edmund Hamilton, Lay Brackett, Anthony Boucher, William Ten, James E. Gunn, Frank Belknap Long Jr., and numerous others, including guest of honor, Arthur C. Clarke. A standing ovation was given Arthur Clarke before and after his speech at the banquet, a serious address that lasted 45 minutes and covered many philosophical facets of the sci-fi field. Especially rousing hands were given two of the real old-timers present, artist Frank R. Paul, guest of honor of the first convention, and out of the arc, the man who once was an assistant to Thomas Alva Edison, the pioneer novelist of scientific romances and the man who discovered the golden atom, Ray Cummings. World-famous cartoonist Al Cap gave a hilarious speech at the banquet Sunday night, other large laughs being garnered on the occasion by Isaac Asimov and Anthony Boucher, Robert Block, again proving that he has no peer as a master of ceremonies. The masquerade ball was filmed for televising. It was a sight for bugging eyes. Extraterrestrial glamour girls came in spectromatic colors. One, Ruth Landis of Venus, formerly New York, was a verdant beauty, fresh as a breath of chlorophyll, while tall Tam Otison, a recent import from England, had the judges agreeing that just looking at her was an education. Olgale won for the most beautiful costume, and Joss Kristoff, a survivor from the first convention of them all, was another prize winner. Monsters, mutants, scientists, spacemen, aliens, and assorted things thronged the ballroom floor as the flash bulbs popped. John Campbell lectured on and demonstrated his controversial psionic, hyronomus machine, and famous fans sprang from Derwoodwork out Sam Maskowitz, James Tarrasi, Bob Tucker, Julius Unger, Raymond Van Houten, Alan Glasser, and on and on. David Kyle, E.E. Evans, James Tarrasi, myself, and two others were elected directors of the World Science Fiction Society. No account of the New York con could be complete without a deep bow of appreciation to the altruistic trio of committee men, including one Cumbly woman, who all but destroyed themselves engineering the convention, David A. Kyle, Ruth Landis, and Dick Ellington. By a vote of three to one, London was selected as the site of the 15th con to be held in 57. For an unforgettable experience in the fantastic universe of science fiction enthusiasts, plan now to attend the Lawn Con. And of Out of This World Convention by Forrest James Ackerman. Recording by Joseph Nagy of josephnagy.com. That's J-O-Z-E-F-N-A-G-Y.com. 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 Dana Allen. A Scientist Rises by Desmond Winter Hall. On that summer day, the sky over New York was unflecked by clouds, and the air hung motionless, the waves of heat undisturbed. The city was a vast oven where even the sounds of the coiling traffic in its streets seemed heavy and weary under the press of heat that poured down from above. In Washington Square, the urchins of the neighborhood splashed in the fountain and the usual midday assortment of mothers, tramps, and out-of-works lounged listlessly on the hot park benches. As a bowl, the square was filled by the torrid sun, and the trees and grass drooped like the people on its walks. In the surrounding city, men worked in sweltering offices and the streets rumbled with the never-ceasing tide of business, but Washington Square rested. And then, a man walked out of one of the houses lining the square, and all this was changed. He came with a calm, steady stride down the steps of a house on the north side, and those who happened to see him gazed with surprised interest, for he was giant in size. He measured at least eleven feet in height, and his body was well-formed and in perfect proportion. He crossed the street and stepped over the railing into the nearest patch of grass, and there stood with arms folded and legs a little apart. The expression on his face was preoccupied and strangely apart, nor did it change when, almost immediately from the park bench nearest him, a woman's excited voice cried, Look! Look! Oh, look! The people around her creamed their necks and stared, and from them grew a startled murmur. Others, from far away, came to see who had cried out and remained to gaze fascinated at the man on the grass. Quickly, the murmur spread across the square, and from its every part, men and women and children streamed towards the center of interest, and then, when they saw, backed away slowly and fearfully with staring eyes from where the lone figure stood. There was about that figure something uncanny and terrible. There, in the hot midday hush, something was happening to it which men would say could not happen, and men, seeing it, backed away in alarm. Quickly, they dispersed. Soon there were only white, frightened faces peering from behind buildings and trees. Before their very eyes, the giant was growing. When he had first emerged, he had been around eleven feet tall, and now, within three minutes, he had risen close to sixteen feet. His great body maintained its perfect proportions. It was that of an elderly man clad simply in a gray business suit. The face was kind, its clear chiseled features indicating fine spiritual strength. On the white forehead beneath the sparse gray hair were deep, sunken lines which spoke of years of concentrated work. No thought of malevolence could come from that head with its gentle blue eyes that showed the peace within, but fear struck ever stronger into those who watched him, and in one place, a woman fainted, for the great body continued to grow, and grow ever faster until it was twenty feet high, then swiftly twenty-five, and the feet, still separated, were as long as the body of a normal boy. Clothes and body grew effortlessly, the latter apparently without pain, as if the terrifying process were wholly natural. The cars coming into Washington Square had stopped as their drivers cited what was rising there, and by now the bordering streets were tangled with traffic. A distant crowd of milling people heightened the turmoil. The northern edge was deserted, but in a large semi-circle was spread a fear-struck, panicky mob. A single policeman, his face white and his eyes wide, tried to straighten out the tangle of vehicles, but it was infinitely beyond him, and he sent in a riot call, and as the giant with the kind dignified face loomed silently higher than the trees in the square, and ever higher, a dozen blue-coated figures appeared, and saw, and knew fear too, and hung back Ostricken at a loss what to do, for by now the rapidly mounting body had risen to the height of forty feet. An excited voice raised itself above the general hubbub. Why, I know him! I know him! It's Edgar Wesley, Dr. Edgar Wesley. A police sergeant turned to the man who had spoken, and it, he, knows you, then go closer to him and, and ask him what it means. But the man looked fearfully at the giant and hung back. Even as they talked, his gigantic body had grown as high as the four storied buildings lining the square, and his feet were becoming too large for the place where they had first been put. And now a faint smile could be seen on the giant's face, an enigmatic smile with something ironic and bitter in it. Then shout to him from here, pressed the sergeant nervously. We've got to find out something. This is crazy, impossible, my God, higher yet, and faster. Summoning his courage, the other man cupped his hands about his mouth and shouted, Dr. Wesley, can you speak and tell us? Can we help you stop it? The ring of people looked up breathless at the towering figure, and a wave of fear passed over them, and several hysterical shrieks rose up, as, very slowly, the huge head shook from side to side. But the smile on its lips became stronger and kinder, and the bitterness seemed to leave it. There was fear at that motion of the enormous head, but a roar of panic sounded from the watcher's wind, with marked caution, the growing giant moved one foot from the grass into the street behind, and the other into the nearby base of Fifth Avenue, just above the arch. Fearing harm, they were gripped by terror, and they fought back while the trembling policemen tried vainly to control them. But the panic soon ended when they saw that the Leviathan's arms remained crossed and his smile kinder yet. By now he dwarfed the houses, his body looming 150 feet into the sky. At this moment, a woman back of the semi-circle slumped to her knees and prayed hysterically. Someone's coming out of his house, shouted one of the closest onlookers. The door of the house from which the giant had first appeared had opened, and the figure of a middle-aged, normal-sized man emerged. For a second he crouched on the steps, gaping up at the monstrous shape in the sky, and then he scurried down and made at a desperate run for the nearest group of policemen. He gripped the sergeant and cried frantically, "'That's Dr. Wesley! Why don't you do something? Why don't—who are you?' the officer asked, with some return of an authoritative manner. I've worked for him. I'm his janitor, but can't you do anything? Look at him! Look!' The crowd pressed closer. "'What do you know about this?' went on the sergeant. The man gulped and stared around wildly. He's been working on something many years. I don't know what, for he kept it a close secret. All I knew is that an hour ago I was in my room upstairs when I heard some disturbance in his laboratory on the ground floor. I came down and knocked on the door, and he answered from inside and said that everything was all right. You didn't go in? No, I went back up, and everything was quiet for a long time. Then I heard a lot of noise down below, a smashing, as if things were being broken, but I thought he was just destroying something he didn't need, and I didn't investigate. He hated to be disturbed, and then a little later I heard them shouting out here in the square, and I looked out and saw, I saw him just as I knew him, but a giant! Look at his face! Why, he has the face of a God. He's as if he were looking down on us and pitying us. For a moment all were silent as they gazed, transfixed at the vast form that towered 200 feet above them, almost as awe-inspiring as the astounding growth was the fine, dignified calmness of the face. The sergeant broke in. The explanation of this must be in his laboratory. We've got to have a look. You lead us there. The other man nodded, but just then the giant moved again, and they waited and watched. With the utmost caution, the Titanic shape changed position. Gradually, one great foot, over 30 feet in length, soared up from the street and lowered farther away, and then the other distant foot changed its position, and the Leviathan came gently to rest against the tallest building bordering the square, and once more folded his arms and stood quiet. The enormous body appeared to waver slightly as a breath of wind washed against it. Obviously, it was not gaining weight as it grew. Almost now, it appeared to float in the air. Swiftly, it grew another 25 feet, and the gray expanse of its clothes shimmered strangely as a ripple ran over its colossal bulk. A change of feeling came gradually over the watching multitude. The face of the giant was indeed that of a god in the noble, irony-tinged serenity of his calm features. It was as if a further world had opened and one of divinity had stepped down. A further world of kindness and fellow love where were none of the discords that bring conflicts and slaughterings to the weary people of earth. Spiritual peace radiated from the enormous face under the silvery hair, peace with an undertone of sadness, as if the giant knew of the sorrows of the swarm of dwarfs beneath him and pitied them. From all the roofs and towers of the city, for miles and miles around, men saw the mammoth shape and the kindly smile grow more and more tenuous against the clear blue sky. The figure remained quietly in the same position, his feet filling two empty streets, and under the spell of his smile, all fears seemed to leave the nearer watchers and they became more quiet and controlled. The group of policemen and the janitor made a dash for the house from which the giant had come. They ascended the steps, went in, and found the door of the laboratory locked. They broke the door down, the sergeant looked in. "'Anyone in here?' he cried. Nothing disturbed the silence and he entered, the others following. A long, wide dimly lit room met their eyes and in its middle there remains of a great mass of apparatus that had dominated it. The apparatus was now completely destroyed. Its dozen rows of tubes were shattered, its intricate coils of wire and machinery hopelessly smashed. Fragments lay scattered all over the floor. No longer was there the least shape of meaning to anything in the room. There remained merely a litter of glass and stone and scrap metal. Conspicuous on the floor was a large hammer. The sergeant walked over to pick it up, but instead paused and stared at what lay beyond it. "'A body!' he said. A sprawled-out dead man lay on the floor, his dark face twisted up, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, his temple crushed as with a hammer. Clutched tight in one stiff hand was an automatic. On his chest was a sheet of paper. The captain reached down and grasped the paper. He read what was written on it and then he read it to the others. There was a fool who dreamed the high dream of the pure scientist and who lived only to ferret out the secrets of nature and harness them for his fellow men. He studied and worked and thought and in time came to concentrate on the manipulation of the atom, especially the possibility of contracting and expanding it, a thing of greatest potential value. For nine years he worked along this line hoping to succeed and give new power, new happiness, a new horizon to mankind. Hermetically sealed in his laboratory, self-exiled from human contacts, he labored hard. There came a day when the device into which the fool had poured his life stood completed and a success and on that very day an agent for a certain government entered his laboratory to steal the device. And in that moment the fool realized what he had done, that from the apparatus he had invented, not happiness and new freedom would come to his fellow men, but instead slaughter and carnage and drunken power increased a hundred fold. He realized suddenly that men had not yet learned to use fruitfully the precious powerful things given to them, but as yet could only play with them like greedy children and kill as they played. Already his invention had brought death and he realized even on this day of his triumph that it and its secret must be destroyed and with them he who had fashioned so blindly. For the scientist was old, his whole life was the invention and with its going there would be nothing more. And so he used the device's great powers on his own body and then with those powers working on him he destroyed the device and all the papers that held its secrets. Was the fool also mad? Perhaps, but I do not think so. In his lonely laboratory with this marauder had come the wisdom that men must wait, that the time is not yet for such power as he was about to offer. A gesture, his strange death, which you who read this have seen? Yes, but a useful one, for with it he and his invention and its hurtful secrets go from you and a fitting one, for he dies through his achievement, through his very life. But in a better sense, he will not die, for the power of his achievement will dissolve his very body among you infinitely. You will breathe him in your air and in you he will live incarnate until that later time when another will give you the knowledge he now destroys and he will see it used as he wished it used. EW. The sergeant's voice ceased, and wordlessly the men in the laboratory looked at each other. No comment was needed, they went out. They watched from the steps of Edgar Wesley's house. At first sight of the figure in the sky, a new aw struck them, for now the shape of the giant towered a full 500 feet into the sun and it seemed almost a mirage, for definite outline was gone from it. It shimmered and wavered against the bright blue like a mist, and the blue shone through it, for it was quite transparent. And yet still they imagined they could discern the slight ironic smile on the face and the peaceful understanding light in the serene eyes, and their hearts swelled at the knowledge of the spirit, of the courage, of the fine far-seeing mind of that outflung titanic martyr to the happiness of men. The end came quickly. The great misty body rose, it floated over the city like a wreath, and then it swiftly dispersed, even as steam dissolves in the air. They felt a silence over the thousands of watching people in the square, a hush broken at last by a deep, low murmur of awe and wonderment as the final misty fragments of the vast sky-held figure wavered and melted imperceptibly, melted and were gone from sight in the air that was breathed by the men whom Edgar Wesley loved. End of A Scientist Rises by Desmond Winter Hall. Texas Week by Albert Hemotor. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Bologna Times. Texas Week by Albert Hemotor. One of the chief purposes of psychiatry is to separate fantasy from reality. It is reasonable to expect that future psychiatrists will know more about this borderline than the most learned doctors of today, yet now and again even the best of them may encounter situations that defy all logic. Meeting the little man who was there was a raided and horrendous experience, but discovery that the man is there maybe even worse. The slick black car sped along the wide and straight street. It came to a smooth stop in front of a clean white house. A man got out of the car and walked briskly to the door. Reaching out with a pink hand, he pressed the doorbell with one well-manicured finger. The door was answered by a housewife. She was wearing a white blouse, a green skirt, and a green apron trimmed with white. Her feet were tucked into orange slippers. Her blonde hair was done up in a neat bun. She was dressed as the government had ordered for that week. The man said, "'You are Mrs. Christopher Nest?' "'There was a trace of anxiety in her voice as she answered. "'Yes. "'And you are?' "'My name is Maxwell Hanstark. "'As you may already know, "'I am the official psychiatrist for this district. "'My appointment will last until the end of this year.' "'Mrs. Nest invited him in. "'They stepped into a clean living room. "'At one end was the television set. "'At the other end were several chairs. "'There was nothing between the set and the chairs, "'except a large gray rug, "'which stretched from wall to wall. "'They walked to the chairs and sat down. "'Now, just what is the matter with your husband, Mrs. Nest?' "'Mrs. Nest reached into a large bowl "'and absently picked up a piece of stale popcorn. "'She daintily placed it in her mouth "'and chewed thoughtfully before she answered. "'I wish I knew. "'All he does all day long is sit in the backyard "'and stare at the grass. "'He insists that he is standing on top of a cliff.' "'Hanstark took out a small pad and a short ballpoint pen. "'He wrote something down before he spoke again. "'Is he violent? "'Did he get angry when you told him there was no cliff? "'Mrs. Nest was silent for a moment. "'A second piece of popcorn joined the first. "'Hanstark's pen was poised above the pad. "'No, he didn't get violent.' "'Hanstark wrote as he asked the next question. "'Just what was his reaction? "'He said, I must be crazy. "'Were those his exact words? "'No, he said that I was, she thought for a moment. "'Loco.' "'Yes, that was the word. "'Loco?' "'Yes, he said it just like those cowboys on the television. "'Hanstark looked puzzled. "'Perhaps you had better tell me more about this. "'When did he first start acting this way? "'Mrs. Nest glanced up at the television set "'then back at Hanstark. "'It was right after Texas Week. "'You remember, they showed all of those old cowboy pictures?' "'Hanstark nodded. "'Well, he stayed up every night watching them. "'Some nights he didn't even go to sleep. "'Even after the set was off, he sat in one of the chairs, "'just staring at the screen. "'This morning when I got up, he wasn't in the house. "'I looked all over, but I couldn't find him. "'I was just about ready to phone the police "'when I glanced off the window into the backyard. "'And I saw him. "'What was he doing?' "'He was just sitting there in the middle of the yard, staring. "'I went out and tried to bring him into the house. "'He told me he had to watch for someone. "'When I asked him what he was talking about, "'he told me that I was crazy. "'That was when I phoned you, Mr. Hanstark, "'a very wise move, Mrs. Nest. "'And would you show me where your husband is right now? "'She nodded her head, and they both got up from the chairs. "'They walked through the dining-room and kitchen. "'On the back porch, Hanstark came to a halt. "'You'd better stay here, Mrs. Nest. "'He walked to the door and opened it. "'Mr. Hanstark,' Mrs. Nest called, "'Hanstark turned and saw her standing "'next to the automatic washing machine. "'Yes. "'Please be careful. "'Hanstark smiled. "'I shall be, Mrs. Nest.' "'He walked out the door and down three concrete steps. "'Looking a little to his right, "'he saw a man squattered on his heels. "'He walked up to the man. "'You are Mr. Christopher Nest?' "'The man looked up and stared for a moment at Hanstark. "'Yep,' he answered. "'Then he turned and stared at the grass again. "'And may I ask what you are doing?' "'Nest answered without looking up. "'Garden the past.' "'Hanstark scribbled something in his notebook. "'And why are you guarding the past?' "'Nest rose to his feet and stared down at Hanstark. "'Just what are you asking all these questions for, "'Stranger?' "'Hanstark saw Nest was bigger than he "'and decided to play along for a while. "'After all, strategy. "'I'm just interested in your welfare, Mr. Nest.' "'Nest shrugged his shoulders. "'He reached into his shirt pocket "'and pulled out a sack of tobacco and some paper. "'Holding a piece of paper in one hand, "'he carefully poured a little tobacco onto it. "'In one quick movement, he rolled the paper "'and tobacco into a perfect cylinder. "'He put the sack of tobacco and paper "'back into his pocket "'and took out a wooden kitchen match. "'He scraped it to life on the sole of his shoe "'and applied the flame to the tip of the cigarette. "'He puffed it into life and threw the match away. "'It burned for a few moments in the moist grass, "'then went out. "'A thin trail of smoke rose from it "'and then it was gone. "'Why are you guarding the pass?' "'Hans Stark asked again. "'Nest resumed his crouch on the grass. "'News is around that dirty dand the cattle ruster "'is gonna try to steal some of my cattle. "'He padded an imaginary holster at his side. "'And I aimed to stop him.' "'Hans Stark thought for a moment. "'Strategy. "'He must use strategy.' "'Mr. Nest.' "'He waited until Nest had turned to him. "'Mr. Nest, what would you say if I told you "'that there was no pass down there?' "'I shuck, partner. "'I'd say you'd been chewing some local weed.' "'And if I could prove it, "'Nest answered after a moment's pause. "'Why, then, I guess I'd be local.' "'Hans Stark thought it was gonna be easy. "'Mr. Nest, it is a well-known fact "'that no one can walk in mid-air. "'Is that not true?' "'Nest took a deep drag on his cigarette "'and blew the smoke out of his nostrils. "'Sure.' "'Then if I were to walk out above your pass, "'you'd have to admit there is no pass. "'Rick and so, "'Hans Stark began to walk in the direction "'of Nest's cliff. "'Nest jumped to his feet "'and grabbed the official psychiatrist by the arm. "'What are you trying to do?' "'Nest said angrily, "'Kill yourself?' "'Hans Stark shook free of his grasp. "'Mr. Nest, I am not going to kill myself. "'I am merely going to walk in that direction.' "'He pointed to where the cliff was supposed to be. "'To you it will look as if I were walking in mid-air. "'Nest dropped his hands to his sides. "'Shucks, I don't care if you kill yourself. "'It's just that it's liable to make the cattle nervous. "'Hans Stark gave him a cold glare and began to walk. "'He took three paces and stopped. "'You see, Mr. Nest, there is no cliff.' "'Nest looked at him and laughed. "'You just take one more step "'and you'll find out there is a cliff.' "'Hans Stark took another step. "'A long one. "'His face bore a surprised look "'as he disappeared beneath the grass. "'His screams could be heard for a moment "'before he landed on the rocks below. "'Nest walked to the edge of the cliff "'and looked down at the mangled body. "'He took off his hat in respect. "'Little Feller had a lot of guts.' "'Then he added, "'Poor little Feller.' "'He put his hat back on and looked down "'at the entrance to the valley. "'A horse and rider appeared from behind several rocks. "'Dirty Dan!' Nest exclaimed. "'He reached down and picked up his rifle. "'End of Texas Week by Albert Hemhoter.' "'Year of the Big Thaw.' "'This is a LibriVox recording. "'A LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. "'For more information or to volunteer, "'please visit LibriVox.org. "'Recording by Greg Weeks.' "'Year of the Big Thaw' by Marion Zimmer Bradley.' "'Mr. Emmet did his duty "'by the visitor from another world, "'never doubting the right of it. "'In this warm and fanciful story of a Connecticut farmer, "'Marian Zimmer Bradley has caught some of the glory "'that is man's love for man, "'no matter who he is nor whence he's from. "'By heck, you'll like little Matt.' "'You say that Matthew is your own son, Mr. Emmet?' "'Yes, Reverend Doan, "'and a better boy never stepped, if I do say as shouldn't. "'I've trusted him to drive team for me since he was eleven, "'and you can't say more than that for a farm boy. "'Way back when he was a little shaver so high, "'when the war came on, "'he was bound and he was going to sail with this Admiral Farragut. "'You know boys that age, like runaway colts. "'I couldn't see no good in his being cabin boy "'on some Tarnation Navy ship, and I told him so. "'If he'd wanted to sail out on a whaling ship, "'I lo, I'd have let him go. "'But Marthy, that's the boy's maw, "'took on so that Matt stayed home. "'Yes, he's a good boy and a good son. "'We'll miss him a powerful lot if he gets this scholarship thing, "'but I lo, it'll be good for the boy to get some learning "'besides what he gets in the school here. "'It's right kind of you, Reverend, "'to look over this application thing for me. "'Well, if he is your own son, Mr. Emmet, "'why did you write birthplace unknown on the line here? "'Rev. Doan, I'm glad you asked me that question. "'I've been turning it over in my mind, "'and I've just about come to the conclusion "'it wouldn't be know-how fair to hold it back. "'I didn't lie when I said Matt was my son "'because he's been a good son to me and Marthy, "'but I'm not his pa and Marthy ain't his ma, "'so could be I stretched the truth just a mite. "'Rev. Doan, it's a tarnal, funny yarn, "'but I'll walk into the meat-and-house "'and swear to it on a stack of Bibles "'as thick as a quart of wood. "'You know I've been farming the old corning place "'these past seven year. "'It's good flat, Connecticut bottom land, "'but it isn't like our land up in Hampshire "'where I was born and raised. "'My pa called it the Hampshire Grants "'and all that was King's land "'when his pa came in there "'and started farming at the foot of the Scuddock Mountain. "'That's engine for fires, folks say, "'because the engines used to build fires up there "'in the spring for some of their heathen doodads. "'Anyhow, up there in the mountains "'we see a tarnal power aquare things. "'You call to mind the year we had the Big Thaw "'about 12 years before the war? "'You mind the Blizzard that year? "'I heard tell it spread down most to York, "'and at Fort Orange, the place they call Albany now, "'the Hudson froze right over, so they say. "'But those York folks do a sight of exaggeration, I'm told. "'Anyhow, when the ice went out, "'there was an almighty good thaw all over, "'and when the snow run off Scuddock Mountain, "'there was a good sized hunk of farmland "'in our valley went underwater. "'The creek on my farm flowed over the bank "'and there was a foot of water in the cowshed, "'and down in the swimming hole in the back pasture "'wasn't nothing but a big gully, "'50 foot and more across, rushing through the pasture, "'deep as a lake and brown as the old cow. "'You know, fresh at floods, full up with sticks and stones "'and old dead trees and somebody's old shed "'floating down the middle, "'and I swear to goodness, parson, "'that stream was running along so fast "'I saw four inch cobblestones floating and bumping along. "'I tied the cow and the calf and Kate, "'she was our white mare. "'You mind she went lame last year and I had to shoot her, "'but she was just a young mare then "'and skittishes all get out, "'but she was a good little mare. "'Anyhow, I tied the whole kit and caboodle of them "'in the woodshed up behind the house "'where they'd be dry, "'then I started to get the milk pail. "'Right then I heard the gosh-offless screech "'I ever heard in my life. "'Sounded like thunder and a freshet "'and a forest fire all at once. "'I dropped the milk pail as I heard Marthy scream "'inside the house and I run outside. "'Marthy was already there in the yard "'and she points up in the sky and yelled, "'Look up yander.' "'We stood looking up at the sky over Shattuck Mountain "'where there was a great big shoot now. "'I don't know as I can call its name, "'but it was like a trail of fire in the sky "'and it was making the dangest racket you ever heard, "'reverend. "'Looked kind of like one of them "'fourth of July skyrockets, "'but it was big as a house. "'Marthy was screaming and she grabbed me and hollered, "'Hes, hes, what in Tunkett is it? "'And when Marthy cusses like that, reverend, "'she don't know what she's saying, she's so scared. "'I was plum-scared myself. "'I heard Lisa, that's our youngin, "'Lisa Grace, that got married to the Taylor boy. "'I heard her crying on the stoop "'and she came flying out with her penny "'all black and holler into Marthy "'that the pea soup was burning. "'Marthy let out another screech and ran for the house. "'That's a woman for you. "'So I quieted Lisa down some "'and I went in and told Marthy it weren't no more "'than one of them shooting stars. "'Then I went and did the milking. "'But you know, while we were sitting down to supper, "'there came the most awful grinding, "'screeching, pounding crash I ever heard. "'Sounded if it were in the back pasture "'but the house shook as if something had hit it. "'Marthy jumped a mile "'and I never saw such a look on her face. "'Hez, what was that?' she asked. "'Shoot now, nothing but the fresh it,' I told her. "'But she kept on about it. "'You reckon that shooting star "'fell in our back pasture, Hez?' "'Well, now, I don't lo it did, "'nothing like that,' I told her. "'But she was jittery as an old hen "'and it weren't like her know-how. "'She said it sounded like trouble "'and I finally quieted her down "'by saying I'd saddle Kate up and go have a look. "'I kind of thought, though, I didn't tell Marthy "'that somebody's house had floated away in the fresh it "'and run aground in our back pasture. "'So I saddled up Kate and told Marthy "'to get some hot rum ready "'in case there was some poor soul run aground back there "'and I rode Kate back to the back pasture. "'It was mostly uphill because the top of the pasture "'is on high ground "'and it sloped down to the Crick "'on the other side of the rise. "'Well, I reached the top of the hill and looked down. "'The Crick were a regular river now "'rushing along like Niagara. "'On the other side of it was a stand of timber, "'then the slope of Shattuck Mountain "'and I saw right away the long streak "'where all the timber had been cut out "'in a big scoop with roots standing up in the air "'and a big slide of rocks down to the water. "'It was still raining a mite "'and the ground was sloshy and squanchy underfoot. "'Kate scrunched her hooves and got real bulky, "'not liking it a bit. "'When we got to the top of the pasture, "'she started to whine and wicker and stamp "'and no matter how loud I woed, she kept on a stampin "'and I was plum-scared she'd pitch me off in the mud. "'Then I started to smell a funny smell "'like something burning. "'Now don't ask me how anything could burn "'in all that water because I don't know. "'When we came up on the rise, I saw the contraption. "'Reverend it was the most turnal, crazy contraption "'I ever saw in my life. "'It was bigger nor my cow shed "'and it was long and thin and shiny "'as Marthy's old pewter pitcher, "'her ma brought from England. "'It had a pair of red rods sticking out behind "'and a crazy globe fitted up where the top ought to be. "'It was stuck in the mud, turned halfway over "'on the little slide of roots and rocks "'and I could see what had happened all right. "'The thing must have been, "'now, Reverend, you can say what you like, "'but that thing must have flew across Shattuck "'and landed on the slope in the trees, "'then turned over and slid down the hill. "'That must have been the crash we heard. "'The rods weren't just red, they were red-hot. "'I could hear them sizzle as the rain hit them. "'In the middle of the infernal contraption "'there was a door and it hung all to other "'as if every hinge on it had been wrenched halfway off. "'As I pushed Old Cade alongside it, "'I heard somebody hollering alongside the contraption. "'I didn't know how, get the words, "'but it must have been for help "'because I looked down and there was a man "'flopping along in the water. "'He was a big fellow and he wasn't swimming, "'just thrashing and hollering. "'So I pulled off my coat and boots "'and hoeven after him. "'The stream was running fast, but he was near the edge "'and I managed to catch onto an old tree-root "'and hang on, keeping his head out of the water "'til I got my feet aground. "'Then I hauled him onto the bank. "'Up above me, Cate was still winning and raising Ned "'and I shouted at her as I bent over the man. "'Well, Reverend, he sure did give me a surprise. "'Weren't no proper man I'd ever seed before. "'He was wearing some kind of red clothes, "'real shiny and sort of stretchy "'and not wet from the water, like you'd expect, "'but dry and it felt like that silk "'and India rubber stuff mixed together. "'And it was such a bright red "'that at first I didn't see the blood on it. "'When I did, I knew he were a goner. "'His chest were all stove in, smashed to pieces. "'One of the old tree-roots must have jabbed him "'as the current flung him down. "'I thought he were dead already, "'but then he opened up his eyes. "'A funny color they were. "'Greeny yellow, and I swear, Reverend, "'when he opened them eyes, I felt he was reading my mind. "'I thought maybe he might be one of them circus-fellers "'and their flying contraptions that hung on "'at the bottom of a balloon. "'He spoke to me in English, kind of chokey and stiff, "'not like Joe the Portagee sailor, "'or like those turnle-dumb Frenchies at Canadi way, "'but, well, funny. "'He said, my baby, in ship, get baby. "'He tried to say more, but his eyes went shut "'and he moaned hard. "'I yelled, God Almighty, excuse me, Reverend, "'but I was so blame-upset, that's just what I did say. "'God Almighty, man, you mean there's a baby "'in that there ding-fall contraption? "'He just moaned, so after spreading my coat "'around the man a little bit, "'I just plunged in that there river again. "'Rev. I heard tell once about some tom-full idiot "'going over Niagara in a barrel, "'and I tell you, it was like that "'when I tried crossing that freshet "'to reach that contraption. "'I went under and down and was whacked by floating sticks "'and whirled around in the freshet. "'But somehow, I don't know how, except by the pure grace "'of God, I got across that raging torrent "'and clumped up to where the crazy ding-fall machine "'was sitting. "'Ship,' he'd called it, "'but that were no ship, Reverend. "'It was some flying dragon kind of thing. "'It was a real scary-looking thing, "'but I clumped up to the little door "'and hauled myself in, and sure enough, "'there was other people in the cabin, "'only they was all dead. "'There was a lady and a man and some kind of an animal, "'looked like a bobcat, only smaller, "'with a funny-shaped rooster comb along its head. "'They all, even the cat thing, "'was wearing those shiny, stretchy clothes, "'and they was also battered and smashed. "'I didn't even bother to hunt for their heartbeats. "'I could see by a look that they was dead as a doornail. "'Then I heard a funny little whimpering like a kitten, "'and in a funny rubber-cushioned thing, "'there's a little boy-baby, looked about six months old. "'He was howling lusty enough, "'and when I lifted him out of the cradle kind of thing, "'I saw why. "'That boy-baby, he was wet, "'and his little arm was twisted under him. "'That their flying contraption must have smashed down awful hard, "'but that rubber hammock was so soft and cushiony "'all it did to him was jolt him good. "'I looked around, but I couldn't find anything to wrap him in, "'and the baby didn't have a stitch on him "'except a sort of a spongy paper diaper, wet as sin. "'So I finally lifted up the lady, "'who had a long cape thing around her, "'and took the cape off her real gentle. "'I knew she was dead, and she wouldn't be needing it, "'and that baby boy would catch his death "'if I took him out bare naked like that. "'She was probably the baby's maw, "'a right pretty woman she was, "'but smashed up something shameful. "'So anyhow, to make a long story short, "'I got that baby boy back across that Niagara Falls somehow, "'and laid him down by his paw. "'The man opened his eyes kind "'and said in a chokey voice, "'Take care, baby. "'I told him I would, "'and said I'd try to get him up to the house "'where Marthie could doctor him. "'The man told me not to bother. "'I dying,' he says. "'We come from planet, star up there, crash here. "'His voice trailed off into a language "'I couldn't understand, and he looked like he was praying. "'I bent over him and held his head "'on my knees real easy, and I said, "'Don't worry, mister. "'I'll take care of your little fellow "'until your folks come after him. "'Before God I will. "'So the man closed his eyes and I said, "'Our father, which art in heaven, "'and when I got through, he was dead. "'I got him up on Kate, but he was cruel heavy "'for all he was such a tall, skinny fellow. "'Then I wrapped that their baby up in the cape thing "'and took him home and give him to Marthie. "'And the next day I buried the fellow in the south metter, "'and next meeting day we had the baby baptized, "'Matthew Daniel Emmett, "'and brung him up just like our own kids. "'That's all. "'All, Mr. Emmett, didn't you ever find out "'where that ship really came from? "'Why, Reverend, he said it came from a star. "'Dying men don't lie, you know that. "'I asked the teacher about them planets, he mentioned, "'and she says that on one of the planets, "'can't rightly remember the name, "'March or Mark or something like that. "'She says some big scientist fellow "'with a telescope saw canals on that planet, "'and they'd have to be pretty near as big "'as this here eerie canal to see them so far off. "'And if they could build canals on that planet, "'I don't know why they couldn't build a flying machine. "'I went back the next day when the water was down a little "'to see if I couldn't get the rest of them folks "'and bury them. "'But the flying machine had broke up "'and washed down the creek. "'Marthie still got the cape thing. "'She's a powerful saving woman. "'We never did tell Matt, though. "'Might make him feel funny to think "'he didn't really belong to us. "'But Mr. Emmet, didn't anybody ask questions "'about the baby, where you got it? "'Well, no, although they was curious "'because Marthie hadn't been in the family way "'and they knew it. "'But up here folks minds their own business pretty well. "'And I just let them wonder. "'I told Lisa Grace I'd found her new little brother "'in the back pasture and, of course, it was the truth. "'When Lisa Grace growed up, she thought it was just "'one of those yarns old folks tell the little shavers. "'And has Matthew ever shown any differences "'from the other children that you could see? "'Well, Reverend, not so you could notice it. "'He's powerful smart, but his real paw on ma "'must have been right smart, too, "'to build a flying contraption that could come so far. "'Of course, when he was about 12-year-olds old, "'he started reading folks' minds, "'which didn't seem exactly right. "'He'd tell Marthie what I was thinking and things like that. "'He was just at the pesky age. "'Lisa Grace and Minnie were both a courton then "'and he'd drive their boyfriends crazy telling them "'what Lisa Grace and Minnie were thinking "'and tease the gals by telling them "'what the boys were thinking about. "'There weren't no harm in the boy, though. "'It was just all teasing, but it just "'weren't decent somehow. "'So I took him out behind the woodshed "'and give his britches a good dusting "'just to remind him that that kind of thing "'weren't polite know-how. "'And, Reverend Dohan, he ain't never done it since. "'End of Year of the Big Thaw' by Marion Zimmer Bradley. "'Recording by Greg Weeks.'