science fiction

SCIENCE FICTIONReg. U. S. Pal. Off.

CONTENTS

AUGUST, 1949 VOL. XLIII, NO. 6SERIAL

the QUEEN of ZAMBA, by L. SPrague dc Camp.6(Part One of Two Parts)

NOVELETTES

TROJAN horse LAUGH, by John D. Mac Donald.73

P-PLUS, by Peter Phillips..112

SHORT STORIES

A MATTER OF MATTER, by L. Ron Hubbard.59

LETTER TO A PHOENIX,by Frcdric Brown.* . 146

ARTICLE

CODED SP EECII, by C. Rudmorc.. . . . . 134

READERS, DEPARTMENTSTHE EDITOR'S PAGE.. 4

IN TIMES TO COME......72BOOK REVIEWS.. . . .154THE ANALYTICAL LABORATORY.. 158BRASS TACKS... 160

EditorJOHN W. CAMPBELL, JR.W2ZGU

Assistant Editor

C. TARRAN T

COVER BY ROGERS

lllujlrations by Carlior, Orban, Quackonbvjh and Roger*Tho editorial contents hare not been published before, arc protected l>y copyright and cannot be re-printed without publishers, permission. All storli** in this maeazlno arc fiction. No actual persons arcdesignated by namo or character. Any similarity 1$ coincidental.

Monthly publication Issued by Street & Smith Publications. Incorporated at 77<J Lld«crwood Arena*.KtixatM*th. Now Jersey. Iteentered as Second Clun matter October 10. 1948 at the Post Office at Kllza-beth. New Jersey. under Act of Congress of March 3. 1S79. Copyright, 1U43. In IT. A. and «roatBritain by Street & Smith Publications. Inc. Allen J*. Crammer. Chairman of the lloard; Ccrald Jl.Smith, Presidents Henry W. Italston. Vice-President and Secretary: Thoiuas H. Kaiser. Treasurer.Subscriptions to Countries In Pan American Union. $2.75 per year: *3.0I> per year in Canada, elsewhere.*3.23 per year. All subscriptions should be addrc»ed to P.O. Ho* 494. Kliiabeth. N. J. We cannotaccept responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. Any material submitted must Includereturn postage.

General and Executive offlce!i at 122 Rast 42nd Htroct. Now York 17. New York:

$2.50 per Year in U. S. A. Feinted in .ÿÿa.16 the U. S. A. 25c por CopyNEXT ISSUE ON SALE AUGUST 16, 1949

AST-U

PARBOILED PILOTS

The expression "hot-rod" means afast, souped-up car. A "hot" planehas meant a fast ship. But the mod-ern plane designer, when he says he

,

s

working on a hot plane, may verywell meant it all too literally. Themodern fighter plane is not fit forhuman occupancy, and a human be-ing is not able to pilot it withoutextensive, and still only half-devel-oped corrective measures.

On the matter of heat, it may seemstrange that a plane flying in the tra-ditionally cold substratosphere wouldparboil its pilot, but the process iseasily explained. First, the transpar-ent canopy over the lighter-pilot

,

s

head is conventionally called'

the"greenhouse

"-and so it is. Like a

greenhouse, it lets in the sun"s vis-

ible-light energy, and won,t pass out-ward the subvisible heat radiations

generated when the light is absorbed.The interior of the greenhouse getshot. That bothered pilots even inthe slow-350 to 450 m.p.h.-ships ofthe last war.

Modern planes are pushing 650m.p.h., and at those speeds air fric-tion is not a negligible factor; whenair rubs over a metal surface at 650m.p.h., the friction produces heat,and lots of it. The greenhouse getshotter.

But worse, ventilation can notcarry that heat away. Suppose theplane is flying on a hot summer day,in air at a temperature of 90°, and ata speed of 600 m.p.h. Now while 90°is warm, it,s not unbearable-but thatair is standing still. Ileal being ran-dom motion of the molecules, if thatair is suddenly picked up by an airscoop and fed into the plane,s cock-

pit, something violent happens to it.On the average, the molecules havebeen accelerated some 600 miles perhour; the result is measured as heat.With a 90® starting temperature, themere process of picking it up raisesthe temperature to 144°-which ismore than uncomfortable; it,

s un-

bearable. Add the further heat of

solar radiation plus friction heating,

4 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION

and l he resultant temperature in astandard fighter cockpit at 600 m.p.h.would !>c about 155°. Evidently, theplane is unfit for human occupancy.

The cooling problem has beenhandled, however, in a fairly satisfac-tory way for the jet fighter planes,and all the 600 m.p.h. planes arc jetdriven jobs. Standard air-condition-ing systems using ordinary compres-sors, cooling coils and evaporators,as in ground-based equipment is out.It weighs too much, and is unneces-sary anyway. The process actuallyused depends on these factors:

The jet engine is picking up greatmasses of air. The air is heated to

144°, as explained, by that process,then it,s compressed by the jet en-gine,s compressor, to about 60pounds per square inch-furtherheating it to about 350°-and fed intothe combustion chamber(s), the hot,compressed combustion product gasesemerging via the jet turbine to propelthe plane.

Now if you let coolcd compressedgas expand, it gets decidedly cold.Any filling station,s compressed airhose will demonstrate that. If youmake compressed gas do work, driv-ing an engine, the work is done atthe expense of the energy stored inthe gas-both heat-energy and pres-sure-energy. Any means of expand-ing compressed air cools it; expand-ing it through a compressed-air mo-tor, however, produces even morecooling because the engine extractsenergy from the gas.

So: to cool jet fighters, the hot,

compressed output of the compressorstage-350° and 60 psi-is bled for afew pounds of air per minute. Theair is first passed through a cooler-radiator

, where outside air cools it

from 350° to something nearer the144° available. Now the cool( !)compressed air is made to drive asmall air turbine, which powers thesmall fan which circulates outside airover the cooler-radiator. The cooler-radiator removes about 90° of the

heat originally present in the outputfrom the jet-engine compressor; theturbine,s energy is obtained at theexpense of the remaining heat-energy. The exhaust air from thelittle turbine has a temperature about- 20°F

. And it takes only about 10pounds of air per minute throughsuch a system to comfortably air-condition one of the modern Navysubsonic planes under the worst con-ditions-maximum speed, at mini-mum (dense-air) altitude on a hot,cloudless summer day.

So that problem,s fairly wellsolved. But-those 600-mile planesare production models; the researchboys are working with 1,200 m.p.h.jobs, they don,t have jet engines, butrockets. So-what do we do next?

And what do yew do when air-friction heat starts melting the trans-parent plastic canopy? Of course,stainless steel replaces dural at thosespeeds-and frictional temperatures.But plastic melts, and glass shatters,and metal,s opaque. ....

The Editor.

PARBOILED PILOTS 5

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA

BY L. SPRAGUE DE CAMP

First of Two Parts. DeCamp,s first postwar novel-Qtale of a detective on a really long-range mission

-to bring home the self-made Queen of ZambatIllustrated by Rogers

Victor Hassclborg shook the reinsand spoke to his aya: "Hao, Faroun!"The animal swung its head andblinked reproachfully at him fromunder its horns, then started to move.The carriage wheels crunched onthe gravel of the Xovorecife drive.

Reside him on the seat, Ruis said:, "Give him a looser rein, Senhor Vic-tor. And you must learn not tospeak to him in so harsh a tone. Youhurt his feelings."

"Tamales, are they as sensitive as

all that ?"

"So-yes. The Krishnatis care-

fully grade the tones in which theyspeak to their beasts-"

The drumming of the aya's sixhoofs mingled with Ruis, chatter toput Ilasselborg into a slight trance.He smiled a little as he thought: Nocomic-book hero he, with ballet-suit,ray gun, and one-man rocket. Insteadhe was about to invade the planetKrishna in this silly native outfitwith its divided kilt, wearing asword, and driving a buggy!

It had been some weeks before bysubjective time that Ilasselborg haddrawn on his client,s expensivecigar and asked: "What makes youthink your daughter has gone offEarth?"

He watched Batruni narrowly.Although at first he had been readyto dislike the man, he was now begin-ning to think the textile manufac-turer a friendly, generous, well-in-tentioned sort, if inclined to belachrymose.

Yussuf Batruni shifted his paunchand blew his nose. Hassclborg,visualizing hordes of germs flying

. out of Batruni,s nostrils, shrank backa little.

Batruni said: "She talked about it

for months before she disap|>eared,and she read books. You know,"The Planet of Romance,, *The Mar-tian,s Vengeance

,

, and trash likethat."

Hassclborg nodded. "Go on.""She had enough money for the

trip. I fear I gave her more than


was good for a young; girl alone inLondon. But she was all the familyI had, so nothing was too good-"His voice caught and he shruggedsadly.

"I"ll go over her belongings," saidHasselborg. "Meanwhile, do youthink she went with somebody?"

"What do you mean ?""I said, d,

you think she wentwith somebody ? And I don,

t mean

your Aunt Susie, cither.""T-" Batruni stiffened, then

checked himself. "Excuse mc. Where

I come from, we take care of ourdaughters' virtue, so I cannot help-But, now that you bring it up, I amafraid the answer is yes."

Hasselborg smiled cynically. "TheLevant ought to advertise its virginsthe way Egypt does its pyramids.Who,s the man?"

"I do not know.""Then how d,you know there is

one ?""

There are only-little things.Nothing you can put a finger on.

On

my last trip to London, when I askedher about her young men, sheevaded. Talked about other things.That was a big change from the timesbefore, when I would learn every de-tail of the young man's appearanceand habits whether I was interestedor not.

"

"Don,t you suspect anybody inparticular?"

"

No, just a vague general sus-picion. You are the detective; youdraw the inferences."

"I will,

" promised Hasselborg."As soon as I,ve looked over herapartment I'll wire Barcelona for the

passenger lists of all the spaceshipsthat have left in the last month. Shecouldn,t get away under an assumedname, you know, because her printswould be checked against the Euro-pean Central File as a matter ofroutine."

"

That will be good,

" said Batruni,

looking out of the window into a fogthat had so far defied the efforts of

the fog-sweepers. His great Levan-

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA 7

tine nose showed in profile. "Do notspare the expense, and when you findwhere she has gone, follow her onthe very next ship."

"Wait a minute!" said Hasselborg."To chase somebody on anotherplanet takes preparation: specialequipment, training-"

"The very next!" said Batruni, be-ginning to wave his hands. "Do youthink I like sitting around? Speedis of the utmost importance. I willpay you a bonus for speed. Haveyou never heard of the early bird,Mr. Hasselborg?"

"Yeah, and I,ve also heard of the

early worm," said Hasselborg. "No-body gives him a thought."

"Well, this is no joke. If you can-not hurry, I will go to-

" He broke

off in a fit of sneezing.Hasselborg held his breath to let

the germs settle, then said: "Now,

now, I assure you I won't waste a

minute. Not a microsecond."

"You had better not," said Ba-

truni. "And if you can return myJtilnar . . . ah . . . unharmed, I willadd fifty percent to the fee.

"

Hasselborg cocked an eyebrow,thinking that if you could only strapa howdah to Batruni's back he,d fit

perfectly into a circus parade. WI get

your point. However, Mr. Batruni,while I can trail runaways, 1 can,

t

bring back the infirm glory of thepositive hour, nor can I put IlumptyDumpty together again."

"Then you don,t think there isany chance-?

"

"About as much chance as there is

of having an Irishman turn down adrink when you offer it to him.However, I,ll do my best."

"

Fine," said Batruni. "By theway, Mr. Hasselborg, you do nottalk like a Londoner. Are you Swed-ish?"

Hasselborg pushed back thebrown hair that drooped untidilyover his broad forehead. "By de-scent only. I,m a North American;born in Vancouver."

"

How did you happen to settle inLondon ?"

"Why-" Hasselborg becamewary, not wishing to go into the sor-did details of his fall and partialresurrection. "After I left the Di-

vision of Investigation to go into pri-vate work, I specialized in insurancefrauds. And Europe offers a goodopportunity for that kind of worknow.

"

He laughed apologetically."

Investigating them, I mean. Fol-low me?"

"Yes." Batruni looked at hiswatch. "

My plane leaves in anhour, so you must excuse me. Youhave the photographs, the key to herapartment, the list of addresses, andthe letter of credit. I do not doubt

that you will live up to your recom-mendations." However, he said thiswith a rising inflection that did implya doubt.

Hasselborg, as lie stood up,

worked the little trick that he some-times used on dubious clients: he

pushed back his hair, straightenedhis scarf, took off his glasses, pulledback his shoulders

, and stuck out hisbig square jaw. By these acts he

8 ASTOUNDING SCI F. N C E-FI CTIO N

changed in a couple of seconds froma nondescript mild-looking personwith an air of utter unimportance toa large well-built character whom anevildoer would think twice about

meddling with.Batruni smiled with renewed con-

fidence as he shook hands.

Hasselborg warned him: "I,m nomiracle-working yogi, you know. Ifshe,

s gone outside the Solar System,it,ll take years to bring her back.There1s no extradition from most

planets, and once I get her aboardthe Viagens Interplanetarias she,llbe under llarth law and I can't dragher by main force. It would cost memy license at least."

Batruni waved a hand. "Never

mind that. *

I will take care of yourfuture if you get me my darling. Butto wait all those years-" He seemedready to blubber again.

"You could put yourself in atrance, couldn,t you?"

"And wake up to find those badSocialists had stolen all my factories?No thank you. It is not the time-the doctors tell me I have another

seventy-five years at least-but thesuspense. It will not be so long foryou.

"

"The Fitzgerald effect," said Has-selborg. "If you're not back fromAleppo when I shove off from Lon-don, I,ll leave a report for you. Mahsalami!"

Viagens Inter planetarias wiredback a list of names from Barcelona,

and the name of Julnar Batruni

turned up on the list for the Jitrna,bound for Pluto with four other Lon-

doners in addition to other passen-gers. Of the Londoners, one was awell-known spinster sociologist, twoa minor World Federation official

and his wife, and the remaining onea radio announcer named AnthonyFallon.

Hasselborg trotted around to theBBC offices, where he unearthed thePersonnel Director and asked aboutFallon. He learned that Fallon was

in his early thirties-a little youngerthan Hasselborg himself-a native ofLondon, married/with a varied back-ground as a World Police trooper, acameraman on a scientific expeditionto Greenland, a hippopotamus-farmer, an actor, a professionalcricket player, and other jobs. No,BBC had no notion where he was

now. The blighter had simply calledPersonnel one fine day, told him hewas resigning, and walked out.(That was two days before theJunta left Barcelona.) And reallyyou know, this is England, where achap can go where he pleases with-out some coppcr checking up on him.

Finding the Director of Personnelstuffy, Hasselborg inquired amongthe staff, adding details to his pictureof Fallon. The man

, it transpired,had cut something of a swath amongthe female help; he'd apparently lednot a double but a quadruple or quin-tuple life. The men liked his tall taleswithout altogether believing them;on the other hand they thought hima bit of a cad and a trouble maker.

Good thing he'd gone. (These unin-

TIIE QUEEN OF ZAMBA 9

hibited guys have all the fun, thoughtHasselborg sourly.)

Hasselborg wrote up his visit onhis shorthand pad and went to Fal-lon's address, which turned out to l>can ordinary Kensington flat. Apretty blond girl opened the door."Yes ?"

Hasselborg got a jolt-the girllooked like his lost Marion. "Are

you Mrs. Fallon?""Why yes. What can I-""My name's Hasselborg," he said,

forcing what was meant for a dis-arming grin. "May I ask you a fewquestions about Mr. Fallon?

"

"I suppose-but who are yourealty ?"

Hasselborg, thinking that the di-rect approach would work here aswell as any, identified himself. Thestrong Briticism of her speech madehim almost forget her resemblanceto his ex-wife. The girl was ofmedium height, sturdily built, withsubstantial ankles, wide cheekbones,rather fiat features, and a vivid pink-blue-and-gold coloring.

After some hesitation she askedhim in. Most people did, since theywere more thrilled than resentful

over being investigated by one ofthose fabulous creatures, a realsleuth. The only trouble was to keepthem on the subject; they wanted toknow about your romantic adven-tures, and wouldn't believe you whenyou assured them that investigationwas a dull and sordid trade that

brought you into contact with asingularly unlikable lot of people.

She said : "No, I,ve no idea where

Tony went. He just told me he wasgoing on a trip. Since he,d done

that before, I didn,t worry for thefirst week or two

, and then I learned

he,d quit his job.""Did you ever suspect him of . . .

uh . . . playing around ?"

She smiled wryly. "I,m sure hedid. You know, tales of how he hadto stay late for spot broadcasts, whichlater turned out never to have taken

place.""Do anything about it?""I asked him, but he only flew

into a temper. Tony,s a very peculiarman.

"

"He must be, to leave a girl likeyou-

"

"Oh," she smiled dcprecatingly."I'm afraid I bored him. I wantedthe usual things, you know-a realhome and lots of children."

"What did you intend to do whenhe went this time?"

"I hadn,t decided. I can,t helpliking him in a way, and he waswonderful when we first-"

"I understand. Did he ever men-

tion a Syrian girl, Julnar Batruni?"

"No; he was cagey. You think hewent with her?"

Hasselborg nodded."Whereto? America?""Farther than that, Mrs. Fallon.

Off F.arth.""You mean millions and millions-

Oh. Then I suppose I shan't seehim again. I don,t know whether tobe relieved-"

Hasselborg said: "I'm trying tofind Miss Batruni and, if possible,bring her back. Want me to tfy to


fetch your man, too?" (He foundhimself, he couldn"t imagine why,hoping she,d say "no".)

"Why . . . this is .all so unex-

pected. I'd have to think-" Her

voice trailed off again."Mind if I take down some data?"

The shorthand pad appeared. "Whatwas your maiden name ?"

"Alexandra Garshin. Born in

Petrograd, 2103. I,ve lived in Lon-don most of my life, though."

Hassclborg grinned. "Tony's theonly Cockney in the case.

" After a

few more questions he said: "WhileI don,t usually mix business withpleasure, it

'

s nearly dinner time, andI think we could pursue the subjectbetter over a couple of reindeersteaks. What say?"

"Oh! Thanks, but I couldn,t im-

pose on you-""Come on! Old man Batruni'll

be paying for it." Hassclborg lookedstudiedly friendly and harmless, hop-ing that his expression would notseem to the unprejudiced observerlike that of a hungry wolf. Or atleast a coyote.

She thought, then said : "I'll come,but if you ever meet my parents, Mr.Hess . . . Hass-"

"Vic.""Mr. Hasselborg, don't say I went

out with you on such short ac-quaintance.

"

"Cocktail ?" he said."Thank you, a blackjack.""One blackjack and a glass of

soda water," he told the waiter.

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA

She raised eyebrows. "Teeto-taler?"

He smiled regretfully. "No.Narasimachar treatment."

"You poor man! You meanyou

,re really conditioned so a gooddrink makes you gag?"

He nodded. "Sad, too, because Iused to like the stuff. Too well, thatwas the trouble, if you follow me."

He wouldn't go into the story ofhis moral collapse after Marion-"When I get a case where I've gotto drink with the boys for profes-sional reasons, boy, then the going isrugged. But let's talk about you.Are you fixed for support while Ichase your errant spouse beyond thecranky comets and behind the mys-tic moons?" He washed down a

couple of pills with his soda water."Don,t worry. I've got a promise

of a job, and if the worst came to theworst T could go back to my parents-if I could stand hearing them say

,I

told you so.' "

The physician laid down his lasthypodermic and said : "Really, that'sall I can think of." He counted them

off on his fingers. "Tetanus, typhus,typhoid, smallpox, yellow fever, bu-bonic, pneumonic, malaria, Martianjaundice, Venusian leprosy- It,s awonder you,re not dead from all the

shots you,ve had lately. Maybeyou

'd like to be shot for whoopingcough ?"

Hasselborg met the doctor,s gazesquarely, though he guessed that theword in the doctor,s mind was "hy-pochondriac".

"Thanks, I've had it.

11

Got those prescriptions? Wish Icould take time to have my appendixjerked."

"Is something wrong with yourappendix ?"

"No, but I don,t like wanderingaround some strange planet with oneinside me that might go wrong. Forall I know, I'm going some placewhere when you get sick they chopoff a finger to let out the evil spirits.And I hope my teeth hold out; justhad ,cm checked."

The doctor sighed. "Some chapswith everything wrong can

,t be both-

ered with elementary medical care,while the healthiest individual I,

ve

seen in years- But I suppose Ishouldn,t discourage you."

Hasselborg went out to Woolwichfor an hour,s pistol practice at therange; then back to arrange with acolleague to take over his two pend-ing fraud cases. Then home to hisapartment to hang on the telephoneuntil he got through to Yussuf Ba-truni, who waxed emotional all theway from Aleppo: "My boy, my boy,it is noble of you-"

Then he took Alexandra Garshin

Fallon out to dinner again, saying:"Last date, chum."

"So soon?""Yep; I'd rather wait till a later

ship, but I,m only the third en-gineer of my soul; Joe Batruni

,s the

captain. I drop you right after wesheathe our fangs and go home topack.

"

"Let me come around to helpyou.

"

"No. Sorry." He smiled to coun-

teract her hurt look. "I can't, youknow; might give away tradesecrets.

"

"Oh," she said.

.

He knew that wasn,t the real rea-

son. The reason was that he was

falling in love with her, and he wasnot sure he could keep his mind onpacking if-

Just as well he was going, hethought. The idea wormed into hismind that it would be sO easy to failto find Fallon and his light-o"-love,

and then come back and have Alex-andra to himself- No! While hedidn,t consider himself a Galahad ofpurity, he still had his code. Andalthough he had witnessed most ofthe delinquencies of mankind in thecourse of his

. career, and had par-taken of some of them

, he was still abit of a fajiatic on the subject of wife-stealing. With reason.

He laid out on his bed one Web-

ley & Scott six-millimeter twenty-shot automatic pistol, one blackjack,one set of brass knuckles

, one pairof handcufTs

, one pocket camera, oneWF standard police fingerprint re-cording apparatus, one pencil flash-light, one two-way pocket radio set,

one portable wire-recorder set, one

armor vest, one infrared scanning

and receiving apparatus-pocket size-one set of capsules containing vari-ous gases and explosives whichwould accomplish anything from put-ting an audience to sleep to blowinga safe, one box of knockout drops, apick-lock, a supply of cigars, a note-book

, and pills: vitamin, mineral,longevity, headache, constipation,

12 ASTOUNDING SCIENCK-FICTION

cold- And ammunition for all this

equipment: IIV cartridges, camera-film

, notebook-fillers, and so on. Themost valuable of the equipment hestowed in his pockets until his suitbegan to look lumpy. The rest hepacked.

Alexandra came out to Waddon to

. see him off, saying: "I wish I weregoing with you."

He supposed she didn,t know shewas turning the knife in the wound,

so lie smiled amiably. "Almost wishyou were, too. Wouldn't do, ofcourse. But I,

ll think of you. If youget tired of waiting around for Tonyand me, you can always go in trance,

or-" lie meant-ditch Fallon and

go her way, but thought better ofsaying so.

"Speck in my eye." She dabbedat the optic with a handkerchief alittle larger than a postage stamp."

Gone upw.""Look here, could I have that

handkerchief?""What for?""Why ... uh .. . just to take

along."

He grinned to hide his em-barrassment. "In spring, whenwoods are getting green, I,ll try andtell you what I mean. In summer,when the days are long, perhapsyou

,ll understand the song.""Why Victor, you>re sentimental!""Uh-huh, but speak it not*in Gath.

It would ruin my professional repu-tation." They shook hands for-mally, Hasselborg finding it hard tokeep up his pose of guileless geni-ality. "Good-by, Alexandra."

The Barcelona plane whizzed

T11 E QUEEN OF ZAMBA

down the catapult-strip and off thefield in a cloud of smoke.

II.

While Hasselborg pondered thecase on his way to Barcelona, it oc-curred to him that the fugitive pairmight have resorted to some humanversion of the old shell-game, like ar-ranging with another pair of pas-sengers to switch identities after theygot to Pluto, and then returning toEarth or one of the other inner plan-ets under their assumed names.

They might get away with such adodge because their prists wouldnot be checked once they had leftBarcelona. Having no wish to spendyears

' chasing them through the Gal-axy as if they were a pair of ratherunholy grails, he looked up the in-vestigating firm of Montcjo and Dur-ruti in Barcelona and arranged forthem to cover all incoming space-ships until further notice.

Then he sent a last-minute postcard to Alexandra-not exactly aprofessional thing to do, he told him-self, but he might be dead before hereturned-and boarded the Coronado

for Pluto.

There were nine passengers be-sides Victor Hasselborg, who foundhimself bunking with one ChuenLiao-dz. They were all squeezedinto the little honeycomb of passen-ger-compartments in the nose, be-low the control compartments andabove the cargo and the vast mass offuel and machinery that occupiednine-tenths of the craft.

13

After an ineffective effort to un-

pack his belongings at the same timethat Chucn unpacked his-withoutdisclosing the professional equip-ment- Hasselborg said : "Look here,

chum, suppose I lie on the bunkwhile you unpack; then we trade-off?"

"Thank you," said Chucn, a shortthick dish-faced man with coarse

black hair turning gray. "You turncrank on the end of your bunk, andthe end conies' up like hospital bed.What,s your line, Mr. Hasselborg?"

"Insurance investigator. What'

s

yours ?""Ah . . . I,m economic official to

the Chinese government. A verydull person, I assure you. Firsttrip?"

"Uh-huh.""Then ... ah ... I suppose you

know your instructions for take-off?"

"Sure. Lie down when I hear the

warning bell, et cetera."

"That's right. You,ll find exer-cise compartment down the passage-way to the right. Better sign up forone hour out of every twenty-four,subjective time. It

,ll keep you fromgoing mad from boredom.

"

That proved no overstatement.With every cubic centimeter ac-counted for, there were no ports tolook out of and no deck space forstrolling. Even the minute passengerlist ate in two shifts in the tiny com-partment that served as lounge therest of the time for whichever half

of the passengers had been lucky14

enough to pre-empt the availableseats.

When the ship had risen abovethe plane of the ecliptic and had cutits acceleration back to 1.25 G, Has-selborg played cards, pulled onweights in the exercise room-justbig enough to let him do so withoutbarking his knuckles-and pried intothe lives of his fellow passengers.Some proved garrulous and trans-parent ; others opaque and taciturn.He found his roommate, oddlyenough, to be loquacious and opaqueat the same time. When Chuen

was asked what official business hewas on, he"d reply vaguely: "Ah . . .just looking into possibilities ofhigh-grade imports and exports. No,

nothing definite; I shall have to de-cide on the ground. Only goods ofhighest quality for a given mass canbe handled

, you know-"

Hasselborg decided, mows in funthan in earnest, that Chucn wasreally a plain-clothes agent either ofChina or of the W. F. If such werethe case, however, it would do nogood to say: "See here

, old man,aren

,t you a cop?" One of the moredismal facts about the professionwas that you had to spend so muchtime playing dumb.

Thisiyonotonous half-life, boundedby bare bulkheads and punctuatedby bells that reminded the sluggishappetite that the time had come foranother meal, continued for days un-til the warning bell told him theywere ncaring Pluto. Hours laterthe pressure of deceleration let up

ASl*O I"N,DIXG SCIENCE-FICTION

and the loud-speaker in the wall said:"Passagciros sat, por favor!"

Suitcase in hand, Hasselborg fol-

lowed Chuen down the inclosed

ramp that had been attached to theship,s side. As usual there was noth-

ing to sec; space travel was no gamefor a claustrophobe. The rampmoved slightly with the weight ofthe people walking down it.

An air lock shut behind him, anda young man sat at a desk checkingoff names on a register. Hassel-borg handed over his passport, say-

ing: "Tenha a botidade, seuhor, tolet me speak to the head passengerfx seal.

"

Then, while the inspector wentthrough his bag, Hasselborg identi-

fied himself to the head passengeragent, a Brazzy like most

%

of the

Viagens people. Hasselborg re-flected that, public and internation-ally-owned corporation though theViagens was supposed to be, with alljobs strictly civil service, somehowthe citizens of the world,s leadingpower always got a disproportionateshare of them.

The agent politely insisted onspeaking English to Hasselborg,who, not to be outdone, insisted onspeaking the Brazilo-Portuguese ofthe spaceways to the agent. Hassel-borg, giving up the contest first,asked:

"I believe two passengers namedFallon and Batruni came in on the

J lima, didn,t they ?""Let me think-I can check the

register. Was not the Batruni thatbeautiful gorl with the dark hair?"

THE Q-UF.KN OF ZAMBA

Hasselborg showed a photographto the agent, who said: "Ah, yes,that is her. O Gtdria-Pdtri, such awoman! What did you weesh withher?"

Hasselborg grinned. "Not whatyou

're thinking, Senhor Jorge. Isshe still here?"

"No.""Thought not. Where,d she go?"The agent looked wary. "Per-

haps if you could tell me of the cir-cumstances-

"

Hasselborg cleared his throat."Well, Miss Batruni has a fatherwho,s anxious to get her back, andMr. Fallon has a wife who"s perhapsless anxious but who is still inter-

ested in knowing where he went.And obviously they didn,t come allthe way out here just to admire theview of the Solar System. Followme?"

"But . . . but Miss Batruni is of

age; she can go where she likes.""That's not the point. If she can

go where she likes, I can also followher. Where'd she go?"

"I prefer not to tell you.""You"ll have to, chum. It's public

information, and I can raise astink-"

The agent sighed. "I suppose youcan. But it goes against all the tra-ditions of romance. Will you prom-ise me that when you find them youwill not spoil this so-beautiful in-trigue?"

"

I won,t promise anything of thesort. I won,t put gyves on the girl'swrists and drag her back to Earth

IS

at gun point, if that,

s what you mean.Now, where-"

"

They went to Krishna," said theagent.

Hasselborg whistled. As he re-membered it, of all the hundreds ofknown inhabited planets, Krishnahad natives the most like human be-ings. That was to Hasselborg,s dis-advantage, since the elopers couldtake off from the landing stationwithout oxygen masks or other spe-cial equipment and lose themselvesamong the natives.

Aloud he said : "Obrigado. Whendoes the next ship leave forKrishna ?"

The agent glanced at the com-pound clock on the bulkhead. "Intwo hours fourteen minutes."

"And when,s the next after that?"

Senhor Jorge glanced at theblackboard. "Forty-six days."

"

And when does it arrive at

Krishna?""You mean the ship-time or the

Solar-System time ?"Hasselborg shook his head. "I

always get confused on that one.Both, let"s say."

"

Ship-time-that is, subjectivetime-you arrive in twenty-nine days.Solar-System or objective time, onethousand four hundred ninety-sevendays."

"Then Fallon and Miss Batruniwill have arrived-how many daysahead of me?"

"Krishna time, about a hundreddays."

"Yipe! You mean they take off

sixteen days ahead of me; I taketwenty-nine days following them;and I arrive a hundred days afterthey do? But you can,t do that!"

"I am sorry, but with the Fitz-gerald effect you can. You see theywent in the MarankCto, one of thenew mail-ships with tub accelera-tion."

Hasselborg shuddered. "Some daysomebody

*s going to make a roundtrip on one of your ships and ar-rive back home before he left."

Meanwhile he thought: to invadean unfamiliar planet required morepreparation than he could managein a couple of hours. On the otherhand he could imagine Batumi's re-action if he arrived back on Earth

to spend a month boning up. Themagnate would resemble not merelyan elephant but a bull elephant inmust. Still

, for such a fee a chancewas worth taking. He asked :

"Is there a bunk available on the

one that,s leaving now?""I will sec." The agent buzzed the

clerk in the next compartment andheld a brief nasal conversation with

him. "Yes," he said, "there are two.""If you'll visa me, I'll take one of

them. Have you got a library withinformation on Krishna?"

Senhor Jorge shrugged. "Not avery good one. We have the Astro-naut

,s Guide and an encyclopcdia onmicrofilm. Some of the men have

their own books, but it would take.time to round them up. You weeshto see what we have?"

"Lead on. I,d also like a look at

the register of the Maraukao, to


compare signatures. The real rea-son was that he wouldn,t put it pastthis superannuated Cupid to givehim a bum steer in order to protectthe so-beautiful intrigue.

However, the register checkedwith the agent

,s statements. More-

over the library was not very in-formative. Hassclborg learned thatthe surface-gravity on Krishna was0

.92 G, the atmospheric pressure1

.34 A, the partial pressure of 0 a1.10 times that of Earth-with a high

partial pressure of helium. The peo-ple were endoskeletal, bisexual, ovi-parous, bipedal organisms enoughlike human beings so that one couldpass himself off as the other with alittle skillful disguise; in fact therehad even been marriages betweenpersons of the two species, thoughwithout issue. They had a pre-me-chanical culture characterized bysuch archaisms as war, national

sovereignty, epidemics, hereditarystatus, and private ownership ofnatural resources. The planet itselfwas a little larger than Earth butwith a lower density, and a higherproportion of land to water, so thatthe total Krishnan land area was

nearly three times that of the Earth.Senhor Jorge opened the door.

"You had better come, Mr. Hassel-borg; 3>ou have only twenty minutes.

Here is your passport.""

Just a minute,".said Hasselborg,looking up from the viewer andreaching for his pen. lie dashed offthree short letters to be photo-graphed down and go back to Earthby the next ship : one to Montejo andDurruti calling them off their job,

and one each to Yussuf Batruni and

Alexandra Fallon stating brieflywhither he was going and why.

When he boarded the ship hefound that space was even more lim-

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA 17.

ited than on the first lap of the trip.lie had as roommates not onlyChuen Liao-dz hut also a middle-

aged lady from Boston who foundthe idea most repugnant. Hethought, if I were Fallon, now, she'dreally have something to worryabout.

They arrived.

In contrast to Pluto, the ramp wasopen to the mild moist air of Krishna.Great masses of clouds swept instately procession across the green-ish sky, often cutting off the big yel-low sun. Even the vegetation wasmostly green. Walking down theramp, Hasselborg could sec, stretch-ing like a graj' string across the roll-ing plain, the high wall that markedthe boundary of Novorecife.

The next contrast to Pluto was

less pleasant. An official person in afancy uniform said : "Fa<;a o favor,passengers going on to Indra andVishnu, into this room. Those stop-ping off at Krishna in here, please.Now

, line up, please. Place yourbaggage on the floor, open, please."

Hasselborg noticed what lookedlike a full-length X-ray fluoroscopeat one side of the room. More uni-

forms appeared and began goingthrough the baggage and clothes withmicroscopic care, while others herdedthe passengers one by one into thespace between the X-ray machineand the fluoroscope to look at theirinsides. Some of the passengersmade heavy weather, especially thelady from Boston, who was plainlyunused to Viagens ways.18

However, the guard assigned toHasselborg,s pile had barely begunhis job when he jumped up as if hehad been jabbed from behind with asharp instrument. "Aid! What is

this?" He had turned over the toplayer of clothes and come upon theprofessional equipment.

Two guards rushed Hasselborgdown the hall, while two others fol-lowed, one carrying his baggage.They ushered him into an office inwhich a fat man sat at a desk

, andall four talked so fast that Hassel-

.

borg, despite a fair command of thelanguage, could hardly follow. Oneof the guards went through Hassel-borg,s pockets, making excited noisesas he came upon the pistol, the cam-era, and other items.

The fat man, whose name accord-ing to the sign 011 his desk was Cris-tovao Abreu, Security Officer, leanedback in his swivel chair and said:"

What are you trying to get awaywith, senhor?"

Hasselborg said loudly: "Not athing, Senhor Cristovao. What am Isupposed to do, click my heels to-gether and salute? What are youtrying to get away with ? Why areyour men hauling me around in thisundignified condition? Why do youtreat incoming passengers like abunch of steers arriving at the aba-toir? What-"

"Quiet yourself, my friend. Don,

t

bluster at me; it will not excuse yourcrime."

"What crime?""You should know.""Sorry, chum, but I don,t. My

ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION

papers are in order, and I,m on

legitimate-""It is not that, but this!" The fat

man indicated the wire-recorder and

other apparatus as if they had beenthe parts of a dismembered corpse.

"What,s wrong with them?""Don

,

t you know they,

re contra-

band ?"

"Mao do Dens! Of course I

didn't know. Why are they?""Don't you know that the Inter-

planetary Council has forbiddenbringing machinery or inventionsinto Krishna? Don't tell me any-body can be so ignorant!"

"I can be." Hasselborg gave ashort account of the hurried de-

parture that had brought him toKrishna without proper briefing."And why are these gadgets for-bidden ?"

Abreu shrugged. "I merely en-force the regulations; I don't- makethem. I believe there is some social

reason for this policy-to keep theKrishnans from killing each otheroff too fast before their culture is

more advanced in law and govern-ment. And here you come withenough inventions to revolutionizetheir whole existence! I must say-Well, I know my duty. Mauriceu,have you searched this one thor-oughly ? Then take him to the officeof Gois for further examination."

And Abreu went back to his paperswith the air of having swatted onemore noxious insect.

Julio Gois, assistant securityofficer, turned out to be a good-look-ing young man with a beaming smile."

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA

"I,m sorry you have had this trouble,Mr. Hasselborg, but you gave theOld Man a terrible turn with yourapparatus. He was on duty here tenyears ago when some visitor intro-duced the custom of kissing toKrishna, and the excitement fromthat hasn't died down yet. So he

,

s

sensitive on the subject. Now, if youwill answer some questions-

"

After an hour,s interrogation,Gois said: "Your papers are as yousay in order, and I'm inclined to

agree that if you hadn,t been hon-

estly ignorant yoxi wouldn't have

tried to bring your devices in openly.So I*ll release you. However, firstwe

'll sequester the things in that pile.You may keep the little club, theknuckle-duster, the notebook, thepen, the knife- No, not the pencil,which is a complicated mechanicaldevice. Take an ordinary woodenpencil instead. No, the breastplateis one of those wonderful new alloys.That's all I can allow you." Heswitched to English:

" ,Tis not so

deep as a well, nor so wide as achurch door; but ,tis enough, 'twillserve.

" "

"Huh," said Hasselborg, "how doJ catch these people without the toolsof my trade ?

"

Gois shrugged. "You'll have touse the brain, I think."

Hasselborg rubbed his forehead asif to arouse that organ. "That putsme in a spot. Do you know whereFallon and Miss Batruni took off for

when they left Novorecife?"

"They were headed for Rosid, in19

the principality of Ruz, which is adependency of the Kingdom ofGozashtand. Here,s a map-" Goisran a fingernail north from the greenspot that symbolized Novorecife, theViagens outpost.

"Were they traveling underaliases ?"

"I don,t know. They didn"t con-fide in me."

"What does one need to travel

around Krishna ?"

"Some native clothes, weapons,and means of transportation. Ourbarber can give you the antennaeand dye your hair. What will yougo as ?"

"IIow do you mean?" asked Has-selborg.

"You can,t run around without

means of support, you can,

t sayyou

"re an Earth spy for fear they,d

kill you, and you have to use thedisguise. Most nearby rulers arcfriendly to us, but the common peo-ple are ignorant and excitable, andthere,s no extraterritoriality. Onceyou leave Novorecife we wash ourhands of you, unless you disobey theregulation about inventions.

"

"What do you suggest for a cover?I can be an insurance salesman, or atelelog repairman, or-"

"Os sautos, no! There,s no in-surance or radio here. You,d have

to go as something that exists, like apalmer-"

"A what?""A religious pilgrim. However,

that might get you into religious ar-guments. What

,

s your church ?"

"Reformed Atheist."

"

just so. Some of the Earthlycults are established here, you know;missionaries got in before the banwent into effect. How about a

troubadour?""That,s out. When I sing, strong

men pale, women faint, and childrenrun screaming."

"

I have it, a portrait painter!""

Huh?" Ilasselborg sat up with ajerk. He was about to say that hehated all painters, but that would in-volve explanations to the effect thathis former wife had run off with oneto live in a shack on the Californiacoast. Instead he said: "I haven"t

painted anything but roofs foryears.

" (He had been trained insketching when he was entering theDivision of Investigation, but chosenot to admit it.)

"Oh, you needn,t be good. Krish-nan art is mostly geometric, andtheir portraits are so bad by ourstandards that you,ll be a sensation."

"Wouldn't they recognize my tech-nique as exotic?"

"That's all right too; the Earthtechnique is a fad in Gozashtand.The Council hasn,t tried to keepEarth's fine arts out of Krishna.Take a few days to practice yourpainting and learn Gozashtandouwhile you have your new equipmentmad<ÿ I see by your letter of creditthat you can afford the best. I

,ll

give you an introduction to the Dashtof Ruz-"

"The who of what ?""I suppose you,d say a baron.

He,s Djam bad-Kone, a feudal un-derling of the Dour of Gozashland."


"Look," said Hasselborg, "at leastlet me take my pills. I have to keepmy health, and nobody

,Il know

what*s in them. Do you follow me?"

Gois smiled. "Perhaps we canallow the pills."

When Hasselborg reached thebarber shop he found his shipmateChuen in the chair ahead of him.

The barber had already dyed theman

's hair a poisonous green, andwas affixing a pair of artificial an-tennae to his forehead by means oflittle sponge-rubber disks thatmerged with the skin so that it wasalmost impossible to tell where oneleft off and the other began. Thebarber said:

"Those should stay for at least amonth, but I"ll sell you a kit to gluethem back on if they should workloose.

. Remember to let your hair

grow longer in back-"

Hasselborg also noted that thebarber had glued artificial points toChucn,s ears, so that altogether theman now looked something like anoverfed leprechaun. "Hello, Chuen;going out among the aborigines,too ?"

"Indeed so. Which direction youtaking ?"

"They tell me my subjects havegone north. How about you ?

"

"I don,t know yet. You know, Iam afraid green hair doesn

'

t become

me."

"Better be glad they don,t wearthose haystack wigs they wore onEarth back in the time of James theSecond. Aroint thee, scurvy knave!"Hasselborg made fencing motions.

Gozashtandou proved an easylanguage for a man who alreadyspoke a dozen. Mornings Hassel-borg spent posting solemnly aroundthe bridle path on the back of anaya, while a member of the Viagensstaff trotted with him and told him

over and over to keep his elbows in,heels down, et cetera. These beastshad an unpleasantly jarring trot,especially since the saddle was rightover the middle pair of legs. Whenhe learned that his particular ayahad also been trained to draw a car-

riage he eagerly bought a light four-wheeled vehicle with a single seatfor two. Two or three hundred yearsbefore on Earth, he recalled, menhad driven a variety of these con-traptions and called them by a multi-tuto of special names: buggy,brougham, gig, surrey- Somethingonly an antiquarian would knowabout now. At least, one aya anda carriage should in the long run beas cheap and convenient as, andmore comfortable than, an aya toride and a second to carry his gear.

-Afternoons he put in an hour ortwo with another staffer who flour-ished a dummy sword and yelled:"No, no, always you wave the bladetoo wide!"

"That,s how they do it in themovies."

"Do they try to kill people in themovies? No, they try to give theaudience a thrill, which is different

99

With Chuen he practiced Krish-nan conversation and table manners.

The main tools were a pair of little


spears to be held like chopsticks.Chucn, of course, had a great ad-vantage here. Go is, watching Ilassel-borgls fumbles, turned beet-red con-taining his mirth.

"Go ahead and laugh," said Has-selborg. "I should think the Council

would at least let us show ,cm knives

and forks."

Gojs shrugged. "The Council hasbeen very strict since the tobacco-habit invaded the planet, amigo men.Some consider the Council unreason-

able for saying that by letting thesepeople have knives and forks we'dbe inviting an interplanetary war,but-"

"Are the Krishnans as dangerousas that?"

"Not so much dangerous as back-ward. The Council reasons that it

will be time enough letting themhave an industrial revolution when

they have more civilized ideas aboutpolitics and the like. I don,t think

they know what they want; thepolicy changes from year to year.And some say the stupid Councilwill always find reasons to stopprogress on Krishna. Progress-Ah, my friends, I must get back toEarth before I,m too old to see itswonders."

At this outburst Hasselborg ex-changed a quick glancc with Chucn,who said: "What's you!" opinion ofthe regulation, Senhor Julio?"

"

Me?" said Gois in English. "Iam but a poor, infirm, weak, and de-spised young man. I have no opin-ions." And he-changed the subjectin a marked manner.

22

Hasselborg stayed on a week afterChucn left, working on his orienta-tion. Since the authorities wouldn,t

let him take along the photographsof Julnar and Fallon, he practicedcopying them with pencil and brushuntil he achieved recognizable like-nesses. He balked at Gois, sugges-tion that he load himself down with

a complete suit of armor, but finallycompromised on a shirt of fine chainmail. He also bought a sword, a

dagger with a fancy guard, a bigleather wallet like an Earth woman's

handbag with a shoulder-strap andmany compartments, and a nativedictionary of Gozashtandou-Portu-guese and Portuguesc-Gozashtan-dou, like all Krishnan books printedon a long strip of paper folded zig-zag between a pair of wooden covers.

Then one morning before sunrise,while two of Krishna*

s three moons

still bathed the landscape, he set outfrom the north

ÿgate. He felt a little

foolish in plumed hat and monkeyjacket, but philosophically told him-self he,d lived through worse things.Gois had been adamant about let-

ting him take his rubbers, and Has-selborg, much as he dreaded wetfeet, had to admit that rubbers overthe soft-leather high Krishnan bootswould have looked a little bizarre.

That young man was there to seehim off. Hasselborg said : "Have yougot that letter of introduction?" He

half expected a negative, since Goishad been putting off writing thething on one excuse or another.

"Sim, here . . . here it is."Hasselborg frowned. "What,s the


matter ? Sit up all night writing it?"

For Gois bad a nervous, distractedlook."

"Not quite. I bad to choose, the

right wording. Re sure not to breakthe seals, or the Dasht will get sus-picious. And whatever happens, re-member that Jnlio Gois esteemsyou.

",

A ftinny sort of farewell, thoughtHasselborg, but he simply said : "/Itca vista!" and tickled his aya's rumpwith his whip until it went into abrisjf trot on the road to Rosid.

III.

Victor Hasselborg rode for sev-eral Earth hours alone, mumblingsentences of Gozasluandou to him-

self. A couple of Earth hours aftersunrise the sun finally broke throughthe tumbled clouds. Hasselborgpulled up alongside an enormoustwo-wheeled cart drawn by a bishtar,an elephantine draft-animal with acouple of short trunks, and askedthe driver how far it was to Avord.

The driver leaned over, then jerk-ed a thumb towards the rear of thecart. "Twenty-five hoda, master."

Hasselborg knew it was overthirty, but these fellows always de-ducted a little to make the hearer

feel good. The.

fellow looked like athinner version of Chuen in his

Krishnan disguise, with the sameslant-eyed, flattened face, more likethat of a Mongoloid like Chuen thana Caucasoid like Hasselborg. Maybe,he thought, that was why Chuenhad been sent on his mysterious er-

THK QUEEN OF ZAMBA

rand. Fortunately the bishtar-driverseemed to find nothing odd aboutHasselborg: merely asked whether itwas likely to rain.

Hasselborg said: "If the gods sodecide. Thanks for the information."

He waved and trotted off, pleasedwith having passed bis first inspec-tion.

He passed other travelers fromtime to time-riding, driving, or onfoot. This was evidently a majorhighway; Gois had told him that theDasht had it patrolled to keep theclanger of robbers and wild beaststo a minimum. Even so

, towardsthe end of the day, a deep animalroar came over the plain, makinghis aya skitter.

He put on speed and soon sightedthe cultivated strips that meant hewas nearing Avord. The sun haddisappeared into the towering cloudsfor good, and Hasselborg had felt asprinkle of rain. Now the cloudswere getting black and the wind wasbothersome. Perhaps he should putup the collapsible top. He stoppedthe vehicle and struggled with thecontraption for a while: it was evi-dently one* of those one-man topsthat could easily be erected by oneman

, four boys, and a team of horses.Finally the thing yielded and Hassel-borg whipped his animal to a gallopas he drew close to the village.

The houses of Avord were of

plaster or concrete, with outsidewindows few

, small, and high. Has-selborg found the inn where Goishad said it would be, and identified itby the animal skull over the door. He

23. _

bitched his beast and went inside,

where he found a big room withbenches and a stout wrinkled fellow

with ragged antennae whom Hassel-borg took to be mine host. Jle rat-tled off:

.

"May the stars favor you; I amKavir bad-Ma,lum. I wish a meal,

a bed, and care for my aya."

"That will be five karda, sir," saidthe innkeeper.

"Four," said Hasselborg."Four and a half.""

Four and a quarter.""Done." Hamse, see that the

gentleman,s baggage is stowed andhis animal stabled and fed. Now,

Master Kavir, will you sit with twoof my regular customers? On theleft is Master Farra, who owns oneof the outlying farms. The otheris Master Qam, on his way fromRosid to Novorccife. What would

you ? We have roast unha, ash slew,or I can boil you up a fine youngambar. Eh ?"

"I'll take the last," said Hassel-

borg, not knowing one from theother and wishing he could inspectthe kitchen to see if it measured upto his standards of sanitation. "And

something to drink.""Naturally."

Master Farra, a tall weather-beaten Krishnan who scratched a

lot, asked: "Whence come ye, Mas-ter Kavir? From Malayer in thefar South? Both your accent andyour face suggest it-no offense, ofcourse. I can see ye're a man of

quality, so we,re delighted to have

ye sit with us. Well?""My parents came from there,"

said Hasselborg cautiously.Qam, a small dried-up man with

his hair faded to jade, said : "Andwhither now? To Rosid for the

game ?""I'm headed for Rosid," said Has-

selborg, "but as to this game-""What,s news from Novorecife?"

said Qam."What are the Ertsuma up to

now?" said Farra.(He meant Earth-men.)

"Is it true they,re all of one sex?""Be ye married?""Has the Dasht Iwid any more

woman-trouble ?""What's this about Haste,s niece

at Rosid?"

"What do you for a living?""Like ye to hunt?""Are ye related to any of the folk

of Ruz ?"

"What think ye the weather'll betomorrow ?"

Hasselborg parried or evaded thequestions as best he could, until thesight of the landlord with a woodenplatter afforded him relief. The re-lief proved short*, however, for theambar turned out to be some sort of

arthropod, something like a giganticcockroach the size of a lobster, halfburied under other ambiguous ob-jects and an oily sauce that had beenpoured over all. His appetite, rav-enous a minute before, collapsed likea punctured balloon.

Evidently the local people ate thething without qualms, and with these


jayhawkers staring at him he,d haveto do likewise. He gingerly brokeoff one of the creature,s legs and at-tacked it with one of the little eatingspears. He finally gouged out a palegob of muscle, braced himself, andinserted the meat into his mouth.

Not quite nasty ; neither was it good.In fact it had little taste, so thegeneral effect was like chewing ona piece of old inner tube. He sighedand settled down to a dismal meal.

Though he,d had to eat strangethings in the course of his career,Victor I-Iasselborg remained in histastes a conservative North Ameri-

can with a preference for steaks andpies.

The innkeeper "had meanwhile setdown a dish of what looked like

spaghetti and a mug of colorlessliquid. The liquid proved both hotand alcoholic. Hasselborg,

s con-

ditioned revulsion almost brought uphis gorge, but he steeled himself andgulped.

The "spaghetti" was the worsttrial, proving to be a mass of whiteworms which wriggled when poked.Nobody at Novorecife had askedhim to cat a dish of live worms with

chopsticks. Cursing Yussuf Batruniand his addlepated daughter underhis breath, he wound up half a dozenof the creatures in a bunch on the

sticks. However, when he raisedthem toward his mouth, they sloom-ped back into the dish.

Luckily Qam and Farra werearguing some |>oint of astrology andfailed to notice. The former, Has-

TII E QUEEN OF ZAMBA

selborg observed, also had a dish ofworms, now reduced to a few sur-vivors who twitched patheticallyfrom time to time. Hasselborg con-centrated on the insect and its acces-

sories, gloomily thinking of the bil-lions of bacteria he was forcing intohis system, until Qam picked up hisdish and shoveled the rest of the

worms from the edge with his spearsinto his mouth. Hasselborg fol-lowed suit

, only mildly comforted bythe knowledge that the germs of oneplanet seldom found an organismfrom another a congenial host. Out-side, the rain hissed on the flat roofs.

When the main course was over,

the innkeeper set a big yellow fruitbefore him. Not bad, he thought.

He wiped his mouth and asked:"

Did either of you see a man whowent through here toward Rosidabout ten ten-nights ago?"

"

No," said Qam. "I wasn,t here.What sort of man?"

"About my height, but less heavy,with a dark-skinned girl. Theylooked like this." Hasselborgbrought the pencil drawings out ofhis wallet.

"No, nor I either," said Farra."

Asteratum, have ye seen suchpeople ?"

"Not I," said the innkeeper."Somebody run off with your girl,Master Kavir ? Eh ?"

"

My money," corrected Hassel-borg. "I paint for a living, and thisrascal took a portrait I

,d made of him

and went away without paying. IfI catch him-" Hasselborg slappedthe hilt of his rapier in what he

25

hoped was the correct swashbuck-ling manner.

The others giggled. Qam said:"

And you,re for Rosid to paint morepictures in hope you>ll be paid thistime ?"

"That's the general idea. I haveintroductions."

Farra, scratching his midriff, said :"I hope ye,ve better luck than thattroubadour fellow last year."

"What was that?""Oh, the Dasht became convinced

the man was a spy from Mikardand.No reason, y, understand; only thatour good Djam mortally fears spiesand assassins. So, ye see, the poorlutc-plucker ended up by being eatenat the games."

llasselborg gulped, mind racing.There had been something in his in-doctrination about the public spec-tacles of certain Krishnan nations onthe Roman model.

He drank the rest of the liquor,which was making his head buzz.He,d better locate a good lawyer inRosid before he began snooping. Ofcourse he was a lawyer too, but notin Krishnan law. And a lawyermight not be of much avail in a landwhere a feudal lord had what in Eu-ropean medieval law was called thehigh justice, and could have youkilled on his say-so.

"Excuse me," he said, pushing hisstool back. "After a day,s ride-"

"Certainly, certainly, good sir,"said Qam. "Will you be back forsupper ?

"

"T think not.""Then I hope you leave not too


early in the morning, for I shouldlike to ask you more questions of farplaces."

"We,ll see," said Hasselborg."The stars give you a good night."

"Oh, Master Kavir," said Farra,"Astcratun gives us the second bedto the right at the head of the stairs.Take the middle, and Qam and Iwill creep in on the sides later. We

,ll

try not to rouse ye."Hasselborg almost jumped out of

his skin as he digested this informa-tion. Whatever was making Farrascratch, the thought of spending anight in the same bed with it filledthe investigator with horror. Hetook Astcratun aside, saying :

"Look here, chum, I paid for abed, not a third of a bed."

The innkeeper began to protest,but by a lengthy argument, a claimof insomnia

, and an extra quarter-kard Hasselborg got a bed to himself.

Next morning Hasselborg was uplong before his fellow-guests, not yetbeing used to the slower rotation ofthis world. Breakfast consisted of

flat doughy cakes and bits of some-thing that appeared to be meat: or-gans from an organism, no doubt,but that was all you could say forthem. He washed down a handful

of pills, wrapped himself in his cloak,and sallied forth into the drizzle.

Faroun looked hurt at being hitchedup and driven forth into the rain ;kept peering back at Hasselborg withan indignant expression, balked, andhad to be stung with the buggy-whipto make him go.

THE QUEEN OF ZA M BA

In thinking over the evening,s con-versation, it struck Hasselborg thatQam*s questions had been unneces-sarily pointed, as if designed to un-mask one \jjho was not what heseemed. Hasselborg wondered if thelamented troubadour, too, had had aletter of introduction.

That reflection started another

train of thought: How about thosequotations from Shakespeare withwhich Gois liked to show off his cul-

ture? Wasn,t there a place in "Ham-let" where somebody gave somebodyelse a letter of introduction that actu-

ally contained instructions to kill thebearer forthwith ?

Hasselborg suddenly wanted earn-estly to know what was in that care-fully sealed leyer to the Dasht ofRuz. When he reached Rosid-

The drizzle stopped and the sunthrew a yellow beam down from timeto time between great bulks of cloud.Hasselborg rolled a grimly apprecia-tive eye at them. Whatever fateawaited him, at least he might thistime avoid catching his death of cold.

He drove hard to make his des-

tination in plenty of time to find him-self a safe roost. About noon Krish-

nan time he pulled up, dismounted,hitched his animal to a bush, and saton a convenient boulder. As he ate

the lunch Astcratun,s cook had putup for him he swept his eye over thegently rolling terrain with itsshrubby vegetation. Small flyingthings buzzed around him, and acreeping thing something like a land-crab scuttled past his feet. A group

27

/>£ six-legged animals fed on thecrown of a distant rise.

He was seeing Alexandra,s facein the clouds when the faint drum-

ming of animal feet brought his at-tention back to earth. A pair ofriders on four-legged camellikebeasts were approaching. There wasa jingle of armor, and he could seeslender lances held upright like radioantennae.

With a flash of alarm he hitched

his sword and his dagger around towhere he could get at them quickly,though he feared that against twoarmored men a tyro like himselfwould have no chance to buckle aswash. True, the look of the mensuggested soldiers rather than ban-dits

, but in a country like this theline might be hard to draw.

Hassclborg saw with displeasurethat they were going to rein up.Their armor was a composite ofplate and chain with a slightly Moor-ish effect: chain-mail over the jointsconnecting squares and cylinders ofplate. As one of them stopped andsignaled his mount to kneel, Ilassel-borg said:

"Good day to you, sirs; may thestars protect you. I

'm Kavir bad-Ma,lum."

The man who had dismounted ex-

changed a brief glance with his com-panion and advanced towards Has-selborg, saying:

"Is that so? What,s

your rank?""I,m an artist."

The man turned his head backover his shoulder and said: "He says23

he,s an artist." He turned back to

Hassclborg. "A commoner, eh?""Yes." Hasselborg regretted the

word as soon as he spoke it. If thesebirds were going to turn nasty, heshould have claimed the rank of

(/arm-knight-or better."A commoner," said the man

afoot to his companion. "A fair ayayou have."

"Glad you like him."ÿ

Although the man smiled, asnearly as Hasselborg could intcq>rctKrishnan expressions the smile waspredatory rather than friendly. Sureenough the man's next words were:"We do indeed. Give him to us."

"

What?" Hasselborg Instinctivelyreached for his shoulder holster be-

fore remembering that his belovedweapon was not with him.

"Surely," continued the man."Also your sword and those ringsand any money you have. You'

re

well-starred that we let you keepyour garments.

"

"Forget not the carriage," saidthe fhounted man. "He looks strong;he can pull it himself, ha-ha!"

"I,ll do nothing of the sort," saidHassclborg. "Who are you two, any-way ?"

"Troopers of the Dasht,s highway

patrol. Come now, make us notrouble, or we'll arrest you as a spy."

The mounted man said: "Or kill

you for resisting arrest."

Hasselborg thought that even ifhe gave up his goods, they might killhim anyway to prevent complaints.A firm line might be equally risky,but he had no alternative. "I


wouldn"t if I were you. I have anintroduction to the Dasht from an

important Ertsu, and if I disappearedthere'd be a terrible howl."

"Let's see it," said the dismountedsoldier.

Hasselborg drew the letter out ofhis wallet and held it up for the sol-dier,s inspection. The latter put outa hand to take it, but Hasselborgjerked it back, saying: "The addressis enough. What do you want theletter for?"

"To open, fool!"Hasselborg shook his head as he

put the letter away. "The Dasht

likes his letters untampered with,chum."

"Slay him," said the mountedtrooper. "He does but try to foolus with talk."

"A good thought," said the manafoot. "Spear him if he tries to run,Kaikovarr." And the trooper drewsword and dagger and hurled him-self upon Hasselborg.

Tumbling backward to get out ofrange of the wicked blades, Hassel-borg got his own sword out just intime to parry a slash. Clang! Clang!So far so good, though the trooperaddressed as Kaikovarr was guidinghis shomal off the road and aroundtoward Hasselborg

's rear.

The dismounted man, finding thatHasselborg could stop his crudeswings, changed tactics. He stalkedforward, blade out horizontally ; thensuddenly caught Hasselborg

,s sword

in a prise and whipped it out of hisgrasp. Out shot the blade again;the soldier,s legs worked like steel

TIIE QUEEN OF ZAMBA

springs as he hopped forward andthrew himself into a lunge. Thepoint struck Hasselborg full in thechest, just over the heart.

IV.

Hasselborg thought he was a deadman, until he realized that his hiddenmail shirt had stopped the point,and that his foe,s blade was bent upinto an arc. Then his highly edu-cated reflexes came to his rescue. lie

braced himself and pushed backagainst the push of the sword,wrapped his left arm around theblade

, and heaved upward. The sol-dier"s sword flew out of his hand, toturn over and over in the air as it fell.

The soldier"s mounted companionshouted: "Ao!" but Hasselborg had110 time to devote to him. His righthand had been seeking a pocket. Ashe stepped forward, the dagger inhis opponent,s left shot out to meethim, and even faster Hasselborg,sown left seized the fellow's wrist

and jerked it forward and to theside, so that the soldier took a stepthat brought him almost body tobody.

Then Hasselborg,s right handcame out of his jacket pocket withthe knuckle-duster. A right hook tothe jaw landed with a meaty sound,and the soldier,s knees buckled.

After another punch Hasselborgdropped the brass knucks andsnatched his own dagger, forgottentill now.

A blow from behind knocked him

to his knees over the body of the29

soldier. That lance! He rolled over,

dragging the feebly struggling sol-dier on top of him, and found theman

'

s neck with the point of thedagger.

The shomal was mincing aroundas its rider tried to get into positionfor another lance-thrust

, which hefound difficult now that Hasselborgwas using his companion for a shield.Hasselborg yelled:

"Lay off, or I,ll slit your pal,sthroat!"

"Gluck," oaid the soldier. "He,s

killing me!"The mounted man pulled back a

pace. Hasselborg got to his kneesagain, still holding I he dagger ready.

"Now what'11 I do with you?" hesaid. ÿ

The soldier replied: "Slay me, Isuppose, sincc you dare not let mego.

"

"I can,t.

" He was thinking of ascheme which

, though corny, mightwork on the naive Krishnans.

"Why not?" The soldier,s lugu-brious expression and tone bright-ened at once.

"Because you're the man.""

What mean you?""My astrologer told me I,d get

into a fight with a guy like you,

whose death-horoscope was the sameas mine. When were you born ?"

"Fourth day, eleventh month ofthe fifty-sixth year of the reign ofKing Ghojasvant."

"You,re it, all right. I can,t kill

you because that,d mean my owndeath on the same day, and con-versely."

30

"Mean you that if I slay you 1doom myself to death on the sameday?" asked the man gravely.

"Exactly. So we,d better call itoff; follow me?"

"Right you arc. Master Kavir.Let me up."

Hasselborg released him andquickly recovered his own weaponslest the soldiers start more trouble

However, his victim pulled himsell*

up with effort, tenderly rubbing theplaces where he had been struck.

"You all but broke my jaw withthat brass thing,

" he grumbled."Let me look at it. Ah, a usefullittle device. See, Kaikovarr?"

"I see," said the other soldier."Had we known you wore mail un-der that coat. Master Kavir, we'dhave not wasted our thrusts upon it.'

Twas hardly fair of you."Hasselborg said : "It,s just as well,

though, isn't it? Looks as thoughwe

,d have to be friends whether wc

want to or not, because of that horo-scope.

"

The dismounted soldier said:"That I,ll concede, as the unha saidto the ycki in the fable." Hesheathed his weapons and walked un-steadily to his kneeling shomal. "If

we let you go with your goods, you'll

make no mention of our little now-

difference ?""Of course not. And likewise if I

hear you,re in trouble I'll have to tryto help you out-what's your name,by the way?"

"Garmsel bad-Manvao. Hear this:*

It was reported that you were askingquestions at Asteratun's Inn last

ASTOUNDI NC. SCIENCE-FICTION

night-a rash deed in Ruz, thoughwith that letter I suppose you,re in

order." He turned to his companion."Let"s be off; this place is ill-starredfor us."

"The gods give you a good jour-ney!" said Hasselborg cheerfully.They growled something hardlyaudible and trotted away.

No doubt Qatn had reported himto these birds, Hasselborg thoughtas he watched them grow small inthe distance. This local spy-maniawould complicate matters. If ques-tions were dangerous ipso foe to, hecouldn,t walk in on the local shamus

for a cozy chat as to the where-abouts of Fallon and his paramour.

He finished his lunch, the excite-

ment of his recent encounter subsid-ing as he pondered his next move.Then he resumed his ride, stillthinking. To do a good job, he re-flected, he should have a tum-tumtree, but Krishna seemed to lackthem.

Hours later, as he approachedRosid

, men could be seen workingin the cultivated strips. He alsopassed side roads and more traffic,people walking or riding and drivingthe remarkable assortment of saddle

and draft animals domesticated on

Krishna Some of these beasts pulledcarriages of ingenious or even fan-tastic design.

The sun was nearing the horizonin one of the marvelous Krishnan

sunsets when the cheerful sight of arow of gallows trees, complete withcorpses, told Hasselborg he was en-

TII E QUEEN OF ZAMBA

tering the outskirts of the city, re-minding him of the verse :

"The only tree that grows in ScotlandIs the bonnie gallows tree-"

In the distance the sun touched

the onion-shaped domes of the cityproper with orange and red.

Hasselborg spotted another house,bigger than the suburban bungalows,with an animal skull over the door.

This time the innkeeper proved asilent fellow who made no effort to

introduce Hasselborg to his otherguests. These guests huddled insmall groups and talked in low tones,leading Hasselborg to suspect thathe,d stumbled upon ÿ a place fre-quented by questionable characters.That bulky fellow in the corner with'the horn-rimmed glasses, for in-stance, might be another innocentpasserby; o

,

r again he might be aplainclothes cop keeping an eye onRosid's underworld.

Hasselborg got a wall scat. Heate a palatable if still mysterious mealalone until a young man who hadbeen idling at the bar came over andsaid pleasantly: "Sarhad am I; thestars give you luck. You,

re new

here, I think?"

"Yes,

"

said Hasselborg."Mind you?" The youth seated

himself beside Hasselborg before thelatter could reply. "Spme of ourold-timers wax tiresome when theydrink. Now me

, I know when I,vehad enough; too much spoils yourhand in my trade. Foul weatherwe

,ve had, is't not? Hast seen old

31

sourpuss, daughter? Some hot piece,

and they do say she,s-

"

I-Ie rattled on like that until the

hot piece herself brought his dinner.Since she was the first Krishnan fe-male he*d had a chance to scrutinize

from close range, Hasselborg took agood look. The girl was pretty in awide-cheeked, snub-nosed

, pointed-eared way. Her costume, what therewas of it

, showed the exaggeratedphysical proportions that Earthartists depicted on girl-calendars.Hasselborg wondered idly whetherthe artists had first got the ideafrom photographs of Krishnanwomen. The Krishnans were obvi-

ously mammals even if they did layeggs.

Sarhad dropped a chopstick. "Athousand apologies, master,

" he said,

squirming around and bending topick it up.

Something aroused Ilasselborg,sever-lively suspicions, and he slidhis right hand towards his dagger.A glance showed that Sarhad, whilefumbling for his eating-spear withone hand, was busily exploring T-Ias-selborg,s jvallet with the other.

Hasselborg grabbed Sarhad,s rightarm with his left hand

, whipped outhis dagger with his right hand, anddug the point into the young man'slower ribs, below the edge of thetable.

"Bring ypur hand out empty," hesaid softly. "Let me see it."

Sarhad straightened up andlooked at him, his mouth openingand closing like that of a goldfish

whose water needs changing, as ifthinking that he ought to say some-thing but not knowing quite what.Then his left hand moved like a strik-

ing snake and drove the point of asmall knife into Hasselborg

,s side,

where the mail-shirt stopped it.Hasselborg pushed his own dag-

ger until Sarhad said: "Ohc! Ibleed!"

"

Then drop your knife."Hasselborg heard it fall, felt for it

with his foot, and kicked it away.All this had happened so quietly andquickly that nobody else appeared tohave noticed.

"Now, young master," said Has-selborg quietly,

"we

're going to havea little talk."

"Oh, no we

,re not! If I yell,they

'

ll be all over you."Hasselborg made the head-motion

meaning "no"

, and said: "I think

not. Dips operate alone, so you haveno gang: and you'd be dead before

they could interfere and so wouldget no satisfaction from my demise.Finally, the brotherhood of criminalsconsiders it an unfair business prac-tice to commit a crime in a hideout

like this for fear of bringing dangerupon all. Do you follow me ?"

The youth's naturally greenishcomplexion became even more so."How know you so much? Youlook not like one of the fellowship."

"I,ve been places. Keep you voicedown and keep smiling." (Hassel-borg emphasized the point with a digof the dagger.) "This inn caters to

the brotherhood, doesn't it?""Surely, all men know that."


"Are there others in Rosid ?""It,s true. The big robbers fre-

quent the Blue Bishtar, the spies col-lect at Douletai"s, and the perverts atthe Bampusht. While if you,d havean orgy of the rramandu drug, or

crave to feast on the flesh of men, try

the Ye"tnazd."

"Thanks, but I'm not that hungryyet. Now, I want to know aboutlocal police methods-"

"

Iyd! So the haughty strangerhas a game-"

"Never mind that; I'm asking thequestions! Who's the chief of

police ?"

"I know not your meaning . . . aofPrick me not; I'll answer. I sup-pose you

,d wish the commandant of

the city guard-""

Is that part of the army?""

But of course; what think you?Or else the captain of the nightwatch. They,

ve but now elected a

new one, Master Makaran the gold-smith."

"Hm-m-m. Is there any centraloffice where they keep records ofyour colleagues and other mattershaving to do with the law?"

"I suppose the archives of the citycourt-

"

"No, not records of trials. I mean

a file of records of individuals-with

a picture and description of each one,a list of his arrests, and the like."

"I've never heard of aught likethat!" cricd Sarhad. "Do they tlmsat the place whence you come ? Aterrible place it must be, in all truth;not even Maibud god of thieves couldmake an honest living, let alone a

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA

poor mortal cutpurse. Plow managethey ?"

"They get along. Now, where canI buy some artist's supplies?"

The youth pondered. "Oho, so

you'

re one of those who falsify copiesof old pictures? I,ve heard of such;

fascinating work it must be. You'dnot like an assistant, would you?"

"No. Where-""

Well, let me see, keep you alongNovorccife Pike until you passthrough the city wall, then continuefor two blocks to the public comfortstation

, then turn right for one block,then left for half a block

, and you'll

see the place on the left. The street"scalled Lejdeu Lane. I remembernot the name of the shop, but youcan tell it by the-you know, one ofthose things painters hold in onehand while they mix their hues onit-over the door."

Hasselborg said : "I suppose youcould enjoy your meal better with-out my dagger pricking your skin. IfI put it away, will you be a goodboy ?"

"But surely, master. I'll do

aught that you command. Are youabsolutely sure you crave no part-ner? I can show you your wayabout here, as Sivandi showed LordZcrre through the maze in thestory-

"

"Not yet," said Hasselborg, whothought he could trust Sarhad aboutas far as he could knock him with afeather. He ate with his left hand

,

keeping his right ready for trouble.When he finished, he hitched his

wallet around and said; "Has any-

33

body around here heard of anotherstranger from Novorbcifc comingthis way about ten ten-days ago? Aman about my height-" He wentinto his description and producedthe sketches.

"No," said Sarhad, "I've seen

none like that. I could ask around,

though I doubt 'twill help, because Ikeep close track of new arrivals my-self. I make the rounds of the inns

,

and watch by the city gates, andkeep myself generally informed. Lit-tle goes on in this city that MasterSarhad knows not of, I can tell you."

Hasselborg let him chatter until hefinished. Then, rising, he said: "Bet-ter get that prick taken care of, chum,or you

,

ll get infected.""Infected? Ao!" Sarhad for the

first time noticed the darkened stain

on his jacket. "The cut,s nought,but how about paying me for mycoat ? Brand-new ; only the secondwearing; just got it from Rosid,

s

finest tailor-""Stow it; that,s only a fair return

The stars give you pleasant dreams !"

Next morning Hasselborg, nottrusting these great clumsy lockschecked his belongings to make surenothing had been stolen. .Then heset out afoot. The city gate was dec-orated with heads stuck on spikes inwhat Hasselborg considered ques-tionable taste. A couple of spearmenhalted him, and let him throughafter he had waved the letter to the

dasht and signed a big register.He strolled through the city, tak-

34

ing in the sights, sounds, and smells-though the last could not very wellbe avoided, and caused him to worryabout picking up an infection. liewas almost run down by a boy-Krishnan on a scooter

, and then hadto jump to avoid a collision with aportly man in the robe, chain, andnose-mask of a physician, whizzingalong on the same kind of vehicle.

At the artists' shop lie asked forsome quick-drying plaster-he meantplaster of Paris, but he didn

,

t know

the Gozashtandou for it-and some

sealing wax. With these purchaseshe returned to his hotel, signing outagain at the gate. The calendar-girl,having let herself in with a passkey,was doing his room. She gave hima good-morning and a smile that im-plied she,d be amenable to further

suggestions. . Hasselborg, havingother fish to fry, merely gave her thecold eye until she departed.

When alone, he put on his glasses,lit his candle, and got out his bache-lor sewing kit and his little Gozash-tandou-Portuguese dictionary. Withthe plaster he made molds of thethree big waxen seals on his letterto the dasht. Then he broke openthe seals, carefully so as not to tearthe stiff glossy paper, and detachedthe fragments of the seals from theribbon that enwrapped the letter byheating the needle from his kit in thecandle flame and prying the waxloose from the silk.

He held the letter towards the

light from the little window andfrowned in concentration. When he


had puzzled out the Pitmanlike fish-hooks of the writing, he saw that itread :

Julio Gois to the I-ord Djim, Dasht ofKuz:

I trust that my lord"

s stars arc propi-tious. The bearer is a spy from Mikardandwho means you nought |>ut ill. Treat himeven as he deserves. Accept, lord, assur-ances of my faithful respect.

V.

Hasselborg, reading the letterthrough again, did a slow burn andsuppressed an impulse to crumplethe letter and throw it across the

room. That dirty little- Then hissense of humor came to his rescue.

The fishes answered with a grin,

"Why, what a temper yon are in!"And hadn*t he been up against thissort of thing often enough not tolet it get his goat, or whatever theyhad in lieu of goals on Krishna?

So, Gois had been getting ideasfrom "Hamlet \" Hasselborg shud-dered to think" of what might havehappened if he,d handed I he letterto the dasht without reading it first.

What now? Gallop hack to No-vorecife to denounce Gois ? No, wait.What had possessed Gois to do sucha thing? The man had seemed tolike him, and he didn,t think Goiswas off his wavelength. It must bethat Hasselborg*s presence on Kri-shna thrcatener Gois, interests; justhow would transpire in due course.If so, if Gois were involved in someracket or conspiracy, his superiorslike the pompous Abreu might be

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA AST-2J 35

also involved. In any case theseBrazzies, while good fellows forthe most part, would stick togetheragainst a mere Americano do Norte.

Could he forge a new letter? Itwould take a bit of doing, especiallysince he was not sure that his writ-

ten Gozashtandou would fool a

bright native. By consulting hisdictionary, however, and experi-menting with a pencil eraser, hefound that he could erase the words

for "spy" and "ill" and substitute"artist" and "good" for them. Hedid so

, folded the letter, and tied itup. Then with the candle he meltedgobs of sealing wax onto the ribbonwhere it crossed itself, and used theplaster molds of the original sealsto stamp new impressions on thewax just like the old.

However, before he mounted hisnoble aya and galloped off in all di-rections, a little reflection was inorder. He went to work with needleand thread on the cuts iti his coat

left by the afTrays of the previousday while he pondered. Since Goishad tried this treacherous trick, he'dprobably also lied about the directionin which Fallon had gone. As Has-selborg could neither be sure of thedirection nor return to Novorccife

for more instructions, he,d have todo it the hard way. He,d have tomake a complete circuit of the Earthoutpost: rivers, mountains, bandit-infested swamps, and all, investigat-ing all the routes radiating out fromNovorecife until he picked up thetrail of the fugitives. Of course ifhis circuit failed to find the trail, he,d

have a good excuse to-stop it! hesternly told himself. This is a job.

Meanwhile he'd better try thedasht, as originally intended, on thechance that he might be able to pickup a lead at the court. Then a quickgetaway with an introduction tosome bigwig in Hershid . . .

A brisk, cool wind flapped thepennons on the spires of the onion-domes of the palace and drove greatfleets of little white clouds banked

deep across the greenish sky. Thisgreen-and-white pattern was reflect-ed in puddles around the palace gate.The wind also whipped Ilasselborg,scloak as he stood talking to thesentry at the gate. The guard said:

"His high-and-mightiness willtake your letter within, and in anhour he,ll come back to tell ye tocome round tomorrow to learn when

the dasht,ll give ye an audience. To-morrow he'll tell ye the schedule'snot made up for the next ten-night,and to return next day. After moredelays he,ll tell ye to be here twentydays from now. So ye'll just sitand drink until your money'

s gone,

and when the day arrives ye,ll be

told that at the last minute they gaveyour time to some more worshipfulvisitor, and ye'll have to begin over,like Qabuz in the story who wastrying to climb the tree for the fruitand always slipped back just aforehe reached it. I envy ye not."

Hasselborg jerked the strap of hiswallet so that the coins inside jingled,saying: "D,you suppose a little ofthis might help, if you follow me?"


The sentry grinned. "Mayhap, sothat yc know how to go about it.Otherwise ve,ll lose your coin to noadvantage-"

The guard shut his mouth as theblack-clad major-domo waddled backto the gale, wheezing -v "Come atonce, good Master Kavir. The dashtwill see you forthwith."

Hasselborg grinned in his turn atthe sight of the guard

,s droopingjaw and followed his guide acrossthe courtyard and through the vastentrance. They passed Krishnansof both sexes in bright clothes of ex-treme cut, the women for instancein gowns like those of ancient Creteon Earth, and walked through a longseries of halls dimly lit by lanternsheld in wall-brackets in the form of

scaly dragonlikc arms. Occasionallya page whizzed by on a scooter.

Hasselborg was beginning to wishfor a bicycle when they halted at theentrance to a big official-lookingroom. At the far end he saw a man

talking to another who sat on araised seat-the dasht, no doubt. Themajor-domo whispered to anotherfunctionary. Other Ruztima sat atdesks along the walls or stoodaround as if for want of anythingbetter to do.

The standing man bowed, put onhis hat, and went over to one of thedesks to talk to a man there. Then

a drum rolled briefly, a horn wentblat, and the functionary at the doorcried: "Master Kavir bad-Ma,lum,

the distinguished artist!"Who ever said he was distin-

guished ? thought Hasselborg. May-

TIIE QUEEN OK ZAMBA

be they were trained to do that toimpress the yokels. During the longwalk the figure of the dasht grewlarger and larger. Hasselborg real-ized that he was a big fellow indeed,in all directions, with plump ruddyfeatures and bulging green eyes be-hind thick-lcnsed spectacles; exceptfor the glasses, altogether like theKrishnan version of a jolly medievalbaron.

When Hasselborg reached the endof the line down the middle he doffed

his hat, knelt, and cried: "I abasemyself before Your Altitude!"

Evidently he,d done it right, forDjam bad-Kone said :

-

*1Rise, MasterKavir, and advance to kiss my hand.With this recommendation from mygood friend Master Julio, all doorsshall be open to you. What,

s yourbusiness in Rosid?"

Djam"s hand was noticeably dirty,so that the thought of kissing thegerm-infested object almost madeHasselborg squirm. Still, he man-aged the ceremony without a visibletremor, saying:

"I have some small skill at por-trait-painting, may it please YourAltitude

, and thought you or someof your court might like their pic-tures painted."

"

Hm-m-m. Have you masteredthe new ertsu style?"

"I'm tolerably familiar with themethods of the Ertsuma

, Your Alti-tude."

"Good. I may have a commissionfor you. Meanwhile feel free tofrequent the court. By the way,

how's your hunting?"37

"I . . . I've had but small experi-ence-

"

"Excellent! My gentlemen pinefor amusement, and you shall at-tend my hunt on the morrow. Ifyou

,re truly not good at it, so muchthe better; 'twill afford the rest of ussome honest laughter. Be at thelodge an hour before sunrise. It,sbeen a pleasure meeting you."

Hasselborg gave the formula andbacked along the line until he cameto the crossline that indicated thathe could turn and walk out forwards.

As he did so, the drummer gave fiveruffles and the bugler a toot aftereach. The doorman shouted :

"A message from His SupremeAwesomeness, the Dour of Gozash-tand!"

Hasselborg stood aside to let themessenger by, then went in search ofthe Charon who had brought him in.He walked slowly, partly to appearat case, and partly to watch theothers to observe how they behaved.There was even a remote chance of

stumbling upon Fallon and Julnar;at least one should keep one,

s eyes

open-

He got lost for a while, wander-ing from room to room. In one rooma pair of women were playing Krish-nan checkers while other peoplekibitzed; in another, a group ofKrishnans seemed to be rehearsingfor a play. Finally Hasselborg en-tered a room where Krishnans were

snaffling food from a buffet table.He tried some of the stuff cautiously,though the heavy perfume used by

the Krishnans kept his appetitedown.

"Try some of this," said his neigh-bor, a man in white satin. "You,rethe portrait painter, aren,t you?"

"Why yes, sir, how did youknow ?"

"Gossip, gossip. My good sir,with neither war nor jury duty at themoment, how else can one occupyone

,s time?" Presently they werein friendly chit-chat about super-ficialities.

"I,m Yc'man," the Krishnan ex-

plained, as if everybody should knowthe patronymic and titles that wentwith his given name.

"This uglywight on my right is Sir Archmatibad-Gavveq the glider champion.Paint him not; 'twill curdle yourpigments, as the salt-demons curdledthe Maraghc Sea in the myth. Youshould hear Saqqiz read his poem onthe theme; a masterpiece in the oldepic style-"

When he could get a word in,Hasselborg asked: "Who,s the ladyin the transparent blue outfit withhair to match?"

"That ? Why, that would beFouri bab-Vazid, of course. Youknow, old Haste's niece. Could younot tell by the Western hue of herhair? There are various stories of

the whys and wherefores of her stay-ing here; whether that she,s enam-ored of our good dasht, or promotingher uncle's cult, or spying for thedour- But you'll hear all that in duecourse. You'll be in on the hunt?

We should have a good fall, not likelast time, when the field crossed the

38 ASTOUNDING SCIENCK -FICTION

reach and the drum led porridge upthe chimney-"

Since his companion,s speechseemed to have become suddenly un-intelligible, and since mention ofhunting reminded him that he hadpreparations to make, Hasselborgexcused himself and sought the exit.He found the major-domo in a kindof sentry box just inside the mainentrance to the palace, whence hecould keep an eye on the gale.

He said: "Thank you for yourcourtesy,

" and dropped a couple ofsilver karda into the man,s hand. As

the latter"s expression implied thathe"d guessed the size of the tip aboutright, he continued:"I,d like to ask you some ques-

tions. The dasht just invited me togo hunting tom

'

orrow, and being newhere and 110 hunter anyway I don,tknow how to go about it. What do Ineed, and where,

s this lodge,. andwhat,s he going to hunt ?"

"You*ll need a hunting suit, sir,

which you can get any good tailor tomake you, though he,ll have to

hasten. His Altitude will probablyhunt yckis, since the pair he kept forgames died but lately. As for thelodge-"

Hasselborg copied down the direc-tions, thinking that to one who hadhunted the most dangerous game,man, riding out and spearing somepoor animal would seem prettystupid. However, orders wereorders.

At the appointed hour Hasselborgpresented himself at the dasht,s hunt-

ing lodge, ten hoda outside the city.The rest of the previous day he hadspent buying himself a hunting outfitand a saddle and bridle for Faroun,

and moving his gear to another andhe hoped a more reputable innwithin the walls.

The hunting suit he had obtainedready-made from the Rosido. Thisswank establishment had also tried

to sell him a wagonload of otherequipment: a short hunting sword, acanteen, and so on, all of which hehad refused. The suit was bad

enough-an affair of shrieking yel-low satiny material with indecentlytight breeches that made Hasselborgfeel as if he were made up to playthe toreador in "Carmen."

Hasselborg heard the racket infront of the lodge long before hereached the spot. The gentlemenwere sitting on their ayas in the half-light drinking mugs of kvad and alltalking at once. It did Hasselborglittle good to listen to them, becausehe found that hunting enthusiastsused a vocabulary of their own in-comprehensible to outsiders.

Other characters ran about afoot

in red suits, some struggling with apack of six-legged esluoia the size oflarge dogs but much uglier. Some-body pressed a mug of kvad uponHasselborg, who downed half of itbefore he had to stop to keep fromgagging. The dasht, trotting past,shouted :

"I,ll watch you. Master Painter!If you play not the man, I can alwaysfeed you to the yeki, ha ha ha!"

THE QUEEN* OF ZAMIiA 39

Hasselborg smiled dutifully. Agroup of serritors were wrestlingwith a great net and a set of polesthat went with it; another pair waslugging out a rack in which werestuck a couple of dozen long lances.(They must import timber for theirbows and spears, thought Hassel-borg; this country seems to have fewdecent trees.) As the workmen setup the rack in front of the lodge, thehunters began guiding their mountspast it to pick out lances. As Has-selborg snatched his, he heard thedasht shouting behind him:

. . and if I find some knave's

slain our quarry without absolutenecessity, I

,ll do to him what 1 did toSir Daviran-"

Somebody blew a horn thatsounded full of spit. The mess ofmen and animals pulled itself intoformation and streamed out onto the

road-eshuna and their handlers first,then hunters with their lances, thenmore servants with the net and other

equipment like gongs and unlittorches.

The parade stretched itself outover a longer and longer piece ofroad as the eshuna pulled away fromthe hunters and they from the slowerassistants in the rear. Hasselborgrode silently at a trot, his swordbanging against his left leg, for itseemed an hour, though the sun hadnot yet risen.

"A good rally," said a vaguely fa-miliar voice, and Ye,

man, his smor-

gasbord acquaintance of the day be-fore, pulled up alongside. "Let's

hope the ball scrambles not in thebeard."

"Yes, let's," said Hasselborg, nothaving the faintest notion of what theman meant. The loud voices died

away leaving only the drumming ofhoofs, the rattle of equipment, andthe occasional mewing of the eshunaup front. Hasselborg, whose ridingmuscles had never got properly hard-ened at Novorecife, found the wholething very tiresome.

As the sun came tip in the egregi-ous glory of a Krishnan sunrise, thehunt left the road and headed up ashallow valley. Hasselborg, in his

first taste of cross-country riding,found that he had to pay full atten-tion to simply staying in his seat. Asthe bigger animals of his fellow-hunters were pulling ahead, hespurred his aya to an occasionalcanter to keep pace.

Oh they went, up one gentle slopeand down mother, over cultivated

fields-which wouldn't be of muchuse to their owners thereafter-andthrough brush. The hunt came to alow stone wall. Eshuna and ayaflowed over it in graceful leaps-ex-cept Hasselborg"s aya, which, havingbeen trained for road work only, re-fused the jump, almost spilling itsrider. As the rest of the party l>eganto leave it behind, the animal gal-loped in a wide curve around the endof the wall and scurried to catch up.Hasselborg swore under his breath.

Next time he had to detour

around a fence which the rest

jumped. This was getting more tire-some every minute, though no doubt

40 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE -FICTION

his aya showed better sense thanthose that let themselves be forced

to jump.A horn blew raucous notes up

front, and the eshuna gave a weirdhowl. Ilasselborg could have swornthey howled in parts. Everybodybroke into a run. Now Hasselborgfound himself really falling behind.Another detour around a wall puthim back among the servants.

At the next obstacle, he spurredhis mount right at a fence, holdingthe reins tightly to keep it from turn-ing, and letting go at the last min-ute as he,d been taught. The ayahesitated, then jumped. While Has-selborg went up with it all right, hekept on rising after the beast hadstarted down, with disastrous results.In his fall he caromed off its rumpinto the moss.

For an instant he saw stars. The

stars gave place to the bellies of theservants

, aya leaping the wall afterhim. They looked as though theywere coming right down on top ofhim with all six hoofs. However,

somehow they all missed him.Then as the universe stopped

whirling he climbed to his feet. Asharp stone had bruised his funda-ment ; he had bitten his tongue; hispants were hurst open at the rightknee; his sword belt had somehowgot wound around his neck; and al-together he was not feeling his best.

The servants were disappearingover the next rise, and the notes ofthe horn and the weird howl of theeshuna died in the distance.

"Give me an automobile," he mut-

tered, picking up his. lance and limp-ing toward his aya. Faroun, how-ever, wanted a rest and a quiet graze.It stopped eating as he neared it,rolled an indignant eye, and trottedoff.

"Come here, Faroun!" he saidsternly. Faroun walked a little far-ther away.

"

Come here!" he yelled, thinking:I said it very loud and clcar; / wentand shouted in his ear . . . but no

heed did the beast pay. He wastempted to throw a stone at the per-verse creature, but refrained for fearof driving it farther away.

He tried stalking. That did nogood cither, for the aya looked upbetween mouthfuls-ot moss and kepta safe distance between itself and its

owner. Perhaps he,

d just have towalk the animal until it tired. He

plodded toward it grimly.

A Krishnan hour later he was still

at this forlorn pursuit, when some-thing erupted out of a little bushyhollow with a frightful roar andcharged. Hasselborg had just timeto swing the point of his lance to-ward this menace before it swerved

and leaped upon the truant Faroun.There was a crunch of neck bones,

and the aya was down with the new-coincr standing over it. Hasselborgrecognized the animal from descrip-tions as a yeki, the very l>cast theywere after-a brown furry carnivoreabout the size of a tiger, but resem-bling an overgrown mink with anextra pair of legs to hold up itsmiddle.

Till-: QUEEN OF ZAMBA 41

For a few seconds it stood watch-

ing Hasselborg and making gutturalnoises

, as if wondering whether todrag off the dead aya or to.try to dis-pose of this other prey, too. Thenit slithered forward towards the man.

Hasselborg resisted the impulse torun, knowing that such a move wouldbring it on his hack in a matter ofseconds. He wished harder than

ever for a gun. Since wishing failedto produce one, he gripped his lancein both hands and stepped towardsthe beast, shouting: "Get out ofhere!"

The yeki advanced another step,growling more loudly. PresentlyHasselborg, still shouting, had thelance-point in the creature's face. Ashe thought of trying for an eye, theyeki reared up on its four hind legsand batted at the point with its fore-paws. Hasselborg sent a jab intoone paw, whereat the beast jumpedback a step roaring furiously.

Hasselborg followed it, keepinghis spear ready. 1 low long could hekeep this up? There was little chanceof his killing it singlehanded-

Then the howl of the eshutia came

across the downs. The hunt was

flowing past behind a nearby rise.Hasselborg shouted : "1 lev ! I,ve gothim!"

This was perhaps a debatablepoint, and in any case he did notseem to have been heard. Hescreamed: "Over here! Yoicks

,

tally-ho, and all that sort of thing!"Somebody swerved over the crest

of the rise, and then in no time theywere all pounding towards him. The

yeki began to slink off, snarling rightand left./- The eshutia swarmedaround the yeki, howling like ban-shees but not closing, while theirquarry roared and foamed and madelittle dashes at them.

Then the servants unfolded the

net and four of them, still mounted,hoisted it by the corners on poles asif it were a canopy. They dashedforward and dropped the net overthe yeki, who in another second wasrolled up in it, chewing and clawingat the meshes in a frenzy of rage.

"Good work!" roared the daslit,

clapping Hasselborg on the back sohard as almost to knock him down."We'll have our game now after all.Your mount dead ? Take mine. Ao

,

you !" he shouted at a servitor. "Give

Master Kavir your aya. You, Kavir,keep the beast with my compliments,

for the manful part you,ve played."Hasselborg was too conscious of

his bruises to worry about how theservitor should get back to Rosid.He salvaged his saddle, mounted,and rode home with the rest, ac-knowledging their praises withsmiles but saying little. When theygot back to the road they passed abig bishtar wagon driven by men inDjam,s livery; evidently to bringhome the

, captive.The dasht told him : "-We,re hav-

ing an intimate supper this night;third hour after sunset. Hut a few

friends-you know, people like Na-maksari the actress and Chinishk the

astrologist. Come and we'll talk ofthat portrait, will you ?"


"I thank Your Altitude," said

Hasselborg.

Back in Rosid lie spent some timewindow-shopping. Although heknew better than to load himself

down with more chattels than he

absolutely needed, the temptations ofBatruni,s unlimited expense accountproved too great. He arrived backat his hotel bearing an umbrella witha curiously wrought handle, a smalltelescope, a map of the GozashtandoEmpire, and an ugly little ivory godfrom

. some backward part of theplanet. When he got home-afterwasting another hour by getting lostin the crooked streets-he felt stickyand suspected himself of being stinkyas well, not having had a bath sinceleaving Novorecife.

When he asked the landlord about

baths, the latter referred him to apublic bathhouse down the street.He went down to have a look at the

place, identified by a sea shell bigenough for a bathtub over the door.He paid his way in, then found to hisdismay that the bath customs of Ruzwere much like those of Japan. Whileas an ex-married man he had no

strong inhibitions along that line, alook at the male Krishnatis convinced

him that he"d never pass as oneunder those circumstances. For one

thing, Krishnans had no navels.He returned to his inn and told

the landlord: "Sorry, chum, but Ijust remembered-I,m under a re-ligious penance not to bathe in pub-lic. Could you furnish me with a

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA

tub and some hot water in myroom ?"

The landlord scratched the rootsof his antennae and reckoned hecould.

Hasselborg added: "Also I,d likesome . . . uh-" What was the word

for "soap"? "Never mind; I,ll tellyou later." He climbed the stairs

on aching feet to consult his diction-ary in private, learning that therewas no such word in Gozaslitandou.

Evidently the stuff hadn,t yet beeninvented. No wonder the Krish-

nans used perfume!The scullery maids who arrived in

a few minutes with tub, brush, andbuckets of hot water showed an em-

barrassing interest in their guest>seccentricity; wanted to scrub hisback and had to be curtly dismissed.He,d have to depend upon a pro-longed soak and a vigorous scrub todislodge dirt and deadly germs. Nomore soapless expeditions to strangeplanets for him, even if he had tosmuggle the stuff past the Viagens,

vigilance!As soon as the water had cooled to

a bearable temperature he loweredhimself into it as far as he could goand settled the back of his head

against one of the handles \vith asigh of relief. Boy, that felt goodon his poor beat-up feet! With aglance at the door to make sure thebolt was home, he burst into song.He had just gotten to:

"He knew the world was round-o,

He knew it could be found-o-"

when a loud knock interrupted him.

43

"Who,s there?" he said."The Law! Open up!""Just a minute," he grumbled, get-

ting out of his tub and trying to dryhimself all over at once. What was

he getting into now, in the name ofAhuramazda?

"Open right away or we,ll breakthe door!"

Ilasselborg groaned internally,wrapped the towel around himself,and slid back the bolt. A man in

black entered, followed by two othersin official-looking armor.

The first said: "You,re arrested.Come."

VI.

"What for?" said Victor Hassel-

borg, looking as innocent as a plushteddy bear.

"You shall learn. Here, drop thatsword! You think not that we let

prisoners go armed, do you?"

But somebody might steal-"Fear not; we'll set the seal of the

dasht upon your door, so that if ac-quitted you'll find your gear intact.Not that you will be. Hasten, now."

The dasht, thought Ilasselborg,must somehow have found out about

his alteration of that letter from Gois.

He was given little time for reflec-tion, though, for they bundled himout of the hotel and onto a led aya.Then they set off at breakneck speedthrough the city, yelling "Jiyant-hao!" to clear their way.

The jail, about a block from theducal palace, looked like-a jail. Thejailer proved a wrinkled individualwith one antenna missing.

"How now ?" cried this one. "The

gentleman from Novorecife, I,ll be

bound! Ye,ll wish one of our bet-

ter chambers, won,t ye? A fine view

of Master Rau,s countinghouse, andthe rates no higher than in some o£

44 ASTO L*NDINfi SCIENCE- FICTION

the more genteel inns, heh heh. Whatsay ye, my fine lad ?"

Hasselborg understood that hewas being offered a cell to himself ifhe could pay for it, instead of beingtossed in the general tank. He tookthe jailer up on his offer with only aslight haggle. While the jailer andthe black-clad one fussed with

papers, an assistant jailer led 1 Iasscl-l>org to his cell. This contained achair, which was something, and be-ing on the second story had fairlighting despite the smallness of thebarred window. More importantlyfrom Hasselborg,s viewpoint, itseemed fairly clean, though he wouldstill have given a lot to know whetherthe previous tenant had anythingcontagious.

He asked: "What,s the head jail-er

,s name?"

"Yeshram bad-Yeshram," repliedthe assistant jailer.

"Will you please tell him I'd liketo see him at his convenience?"

The jailer arrived with disconcert-ing promptness, saying: "Look ye,Master Kavir, I,m no monster joy-ing in the sufferings of my wards,like the giant Damghan in the legend,nor yet a saintly philanthropist put-ting their welfare ahead of my own.If they can pay for extras to lightentheir last hours, why, say I, why notlet ,em have 'em ? I had Lord

Hardiqasp in my personal charge forthirty Jen-nights ere they headedhim, and before they took him awayhe said: ,Yeshram, ye,ve made mycaptivity almost a pleasure!, Think

of it! So fear not that if ye treat

THE QUEEN OK ZAMBA

Yeshram right, obey the rules, nottry to escape, not form seditions withthe other prisoners, and pay yourway, ye

,ll have little to complain of,heh heh."

"I understand,

" said Hasselborg."Right now r most want informa-tion. Why am I here at all?"

"That 1 know not precisely, savethat your indictment reads '

trea-

son,

.

"

"When am I to have a hearing?Do they let you have lawyers?"

"Why, as for your hearing, knowye not that ye

,re to be tried thisafternoon?"

"When? Where?""The trial will take place in the

chambers of justice, as of always.As to the precise time I can,t tell ye;perchance the trial

,s beginning evennow.

"

"You mean one doesn,t attend

one,s own trial in Riiz?"

"Of course not, for what goodwould that do? Anything the pris-oner said in his defense would be a

lie, so why ask him?""Well then, when the trial,s over,

can you find out what happened ?""For a consideration I can."

Left alone, Hasselborg wonderedwhether to unmask himself as an

"

Earthman. They'd be at least a lit-tle more careful how they treatedhim. Or would they? At Novorc-cife they had specifically warned himnot to count on any interplanetaryprestige. Since the InterplanetaryCouncil had ordered a policy of strictnonimperialism and noninterference

45

in Krishnan affairs, the native stales<li<l pretty much as they pleased tothe Ertsuma in their midst. Some-times they pleased to ireat them withhonor, and at other times they lookedupon them as legitimate prey. Whenpeople protested some particularlyatrocious outrage upon a visitingEarthman, the I. C. blandly repliedthat nobody compelled Earthmen togo there, did they?

Moreover such a revelation mightjeopardize the success of Ilassel-borg*s mission. Altogether he de-cided to stick to his role of Krishnan

artist for the time being, at least un-til all its possibilities had been ex-hausted.

The jailer reported back: "Itseems ye came hither with some let-ter from an Ertsu at Novorecife,saying ye be an artist or something.Well, now, that would have been allright, only this morning, while yewere out hunting with the dasht, whocomes in but a messenger from thissame Ertsu, with another letter. Thisletter would be about some othermatter

, some different thing entirely,ye see, but at the end oft the Ertsuputs in one little sentence, somethinglike: "Has that Mikardando spy Isent on to ye with a letter of intro-duction arrived yet, and if so whathave ye done with him ?' That makesthe dasht suspicious, the gods blindme if it don,

t, and he takes the origi-

nal letter-the one ye brought-andlooks it over carefully, and seeswhere it looks like some knave,

s

rubbed out part of the writing andput in some new words over the old.

Tsk, tsk, ye spies must think our

dasht a true simpleton.""What happened at the trial?"

asked I lasselborg."Oh, now, the dasht presented his

evidence, and the lawyer for the de-fense said he could find nought to besaid in your favor, no indeed hecouldn,t

, so the court sentenced ye tobe eaten in the game, day after to-morrow.

"

"

You mean they,re going to stickme in an arena with that yeki Ihelped catch?"

"

Surely, surely, and great joke thedasht thought it, hch, heh. Not thatI have aught against ye, Master

Kavir, but it do seem like the godstaking a hand to blow up a manwith his own firework

, now don't it?But take it not too hard

, lad, all mustgo when their candle"s burnt down.Truly sorry am I to lose so fine aguest so soon, however; truly sorry."

I weep for you, the Walrus said; Ideeply sympathize, thought Ilassel-borg. He said : "Never mind that.

What happens at this game ?""A parade, and fireworks, and a

show at the stadium-races afoot and

mounted, boxing and wrestling, youbeing eaten, and finally a battle be-tween some tailed Koloftuma and

,

some of our own condemned crimi-

nals with real weapons. That,ll bean event worth waiting for; too badye

'll not be there to see it!"

Though not a vain man, llassel-borg felt a slight pique at not beingdeemed good enough for the main at-traction. "What,s this game in cele-bration of ?"


"Oh, now, some astrological con-junction ; I niisremembcr which.They come along every few ten-nights, that is the well-omened onesdo

, if ye believe in that star-gazingfoolishness

, and the apprentices quitwork to riot in the streets and the

dasht stages a big party for his courtwith a circus for the common folk."

"Do I fight this critter withweapons?"

"Oh, niy honor, no! Ye might

hurt the beast or even slay it. Timewas when the victim was given awooden pretend sword for theamusement of the people, but one ofthem-an Ertsu ,twas, too-hurt theeye of the favorite ycki of the dasht,so he ordered that thereafter theyshould be sent in with nought in theirhands, hch hch. 'Tis quite a sight;blood all over the place."

Hasselborg leaned forward in-tently. "Did you say an Ertsu waseaten at one of these celebrations?"

"Aye, to be sure he was. What,sso singular about that ? ,Tis true it's

been said in Ruz that the dasht oughtto give special consideration to theErtsuma, because, forsooth, 'tis ru-mored that they have weapons ofsuch might that one of their fire-works would blot Rosi

'

d off the face

of the planet. But the dasht willhave nought oft, saying, so long ashe,s Dasht of Ruz he'll see that

justice is administered in the goodold Ruzo way-nobles tohave pre-cedence over commoners, common-ers over foreigners, and all overslaves. That way every wight knowswhere he stands and what he faces;

start making exceptions, and where,s

justice? For isn'

t consistency theessence of justice? Though I be nodoctor of laws

, me seems he has theright of it, now don"t he?"

Hasselborg looked at the ceiling inthought. Evidently the fact of hisbeing an Earthman, if made known,might prove more a liability than anasset. "Ycshram, what would youdo if you had . . . let,s say a half-million karda ?"

"

Ohc! Think ye to befool me,Master Kavir? Ye,ve no such sum

on your person, for we looked intothat when ye came hither. That,s adasht,s ransom. Let,s talk sense, lad,in the little time ye have left."

"I,m serious. What would youdo?"

"Truly I know not. Quit thisdirty post, surely. Buy up someestates and have a try at being a gen-tleman. Perhaps even get my eldestmale-chick knighted in time. I knownot. There

,

s hardly a limit to whatone could do with so vast a sum.But tantalize me not or I,ll take itill."

"Even if I don't have that much

on me, I might be able to get holdof it."

"So? Tell me not that besides be-

ing a spy and a picture painter, ye,rea spinner of fine talcs of fire-breath-ing dragons and invisible castles toboot ?"

ÿ

"No, this is no romance. I,ve gota letter of credit 011 deposit at No-vorccife that,s worth that amount,

and if somebody could get me out of

TIIE QUEEN OF Z A M B A 47

here I'd naturally be willing to payliberally."

Now the jailer was thoughtful."But how could I get this money?How can I be sure 'tis there to behad ?"

"You'd have to send somebody tofetch it. Let me see-I know who'd

be glad to go-a trooper of the high-way patrol named Garmsel bad-Manyao. If you can get word to himhe,ll ride day and night to Novore-cife with a draft from me on that

letter."

The jailer made the negative head-motion. "I sec difficulties, lad. We,dhave to fake a delivery, ye see, andthat means letting more people intothe scheme and paying them off.Then, too, no matter how fast thissoldier friend of yours rode, hecouldn,t make Novorccife and back

by the time you were down the yeki'sgullet. Moreover, if ye didn

,

t ap-

pear for the games the dasht wouldhave my head for it, or at least mypost. No, I couldn

,t chance it,

especially I couldn,t chance it before

I had the money in hand. Once Ihad it in hand, of course, I,d defyany wight but the dasht himself.

"

After they had brooded in silencea while, the jailer resumed: "Per-

haps I can get ye through the gamesalive, despite all. Ycshram has ascheme. If ye'll give me the draftnow, I

"ll do my best, and if I fail,ye

'll have no use for gold anyway,will ye now?"

Hasselborg, disinclined to trust thejailer so far, countered: "Tell youwhat. I'll write you a draft for a

quarter-million karda now, and an-other quarter-million when I

~

getout.

"

"But how know I ye,ll pay me thesecond half, once ye

,re free and flee-

ing with the eshuna baying on yourtrack?"

"How do I know you'll get me outonce you get your hands on the firstinstalment? Wouldn't you be hap-pier with me inside the yeki and sounable to expose our little deal ? Notthat I distrust you. Master Yeshram,but you see how it is. You trust me,T trust you. Whereas if we fail toagree and I get eaten, you'll have

nothing but what I've got on me,which won'

t set you up in anybaronial splendor."

They haggled for an hour beforeHasselborg won his points. Ycsh-ram, for instance, wanted a half-mil-lion net

, while Hasselborg insistedon a half-million gross, out of whichYeshram would have to pay suchother bribes as proved necessary.

Finally Hasselborg wrote hisdraft, saying: "What,s this scheme ofyours?"

"I mislike to tell ye, since a secretknown to many is no secret at all, asit says in the Proverbs of Nehavend.Howsomever, do but face the beastboldly, and ye,ll find him perchanceless inclined to devour ye than is hiswont.

"

Then Hasselborg had the excruci-ating experience of waiting for twoKrishnan days and nights until thetime ncarcd for his execution. Hetried to read a textbook on Gozash-

48,

ASTOUNDING SCI EN C E-FICTION

tando law which Yeshram furnished

him, but found it tough going-thelaw here was mostly precedent, andHasselborg was not fluent enough inthe written language yet to read itwith any ease. He paced, smoked,ate little, and spent half-hours gazingsentimentally at Alexandra's tinyhandkerchief.

lie also kept sending the assistantjailer out to ask if there were anynews from Trooper Garmsel yet. Heknew there wouldn't be

, but couldn,thelp hoping for a miracle. lie gotsome small comfort out of the fact

that he had exercised enough self-control to strike this bargain withYeshram for less than half the totalamount his letter of credit had been

good for; there had been a time,when Yeshram was hesitating, whenhe,d been strongly tempted to throwthe entire amount at the jailer,

though he knew that would be moneywasted.

The second afternoon after his ar-rival, Yeshram came in

, saying: "Be

ye ready? Courage, my master. No,no, for the hundredth time, no news.Garmsel would need a glider towedby trained aqebats, like PrinceBourudjird in the legend, to have gotback by now. Why shake ye so? Irun a risk like yours, don

't I ?"

They loaded Hasselborg into akind of cage on wheels, and drove itacross the city to the stadium. Armedmen let him out and led him to a

room under the tiers of seats, wherethey watched him silently whilenoises of the entertainments filtered

THE QUEEN OF ZAMBA

in from outside. One said to theother:

"The crowd,s in a bad mood to-

day.""

A dull performance," said theother man. "They do say the dashthas been too much wrapped up inhis love-life to put the care he shouldupon the events."

Then silence again. Hasselborglit a Krishnan cigar and offered oneto each of his guards, who took themwith a grunt of thanks.

More waiting.At last a man stuck his head in

the door and said: "Time!"

The guards nodded to Hasselborg,one saying:

"

Leave your jacket here.Stand up and let us search you."After a last-minute frisk they ledhim into one of the tunnels connect-

ing the dressing rooms with thearena.

At the end of the tunnel was a

heavy gate of criss-crossed iron bars.A man swung it open with a creak.Hasselborg looked back. Theguards had a tight grip on their hal-berds in case he should get anyfunny ideas about bolting.

Hasselborg, seeing no alternative,stuck his thumbs into his belt andstrolled out into the arena with elab-orate unconcern.

The place reminded him of someof the bowls he,d played football inyears before as a college undergradu-ate ; he

,d played Tullback. However,this arena was a bit too small for

football, more like a bull ring than aNorth American athletic theater.

The seats pitched down at a steep49

angle. The floor was sunk a goodtwenty feet below the lowest tier ofseats so that there would be no ques-tion of a mighty leap into the audi-ence. In front of the first row of

seats, guards paced a catwalk. Couldhe somehow get one of those hal-berds and do a pole vault up to thecatwalk? Not likely, especially forone who, while something of an ath-lete in his day, had never practicedpole-vaulting.

The sky was overcast, and a dankwind whipped the pennons on theflagpoles around the upper edge ofthe stadium. The dasht sat in his

box, wrapped in his cloak, and toohigh up for his expression to be seen.

As the gate clanged shut behindHasselborg, he saw a gate on the farside of the arena open and his friendthe yeki issue from another tunnel.

The people in the stands gave asubdued roar. Hasselborg, facingthis particular jabberwock withoutany vorpal sword, stood perfectlystill. If Yeshram had had a brightidea, let it work now!

The yeki padded slowly forward,then stopped and looked about it. Itlooked at Hassselborg; it looked atthe people above it in the audience.It grumbled, walked a few paces in acircle, flopped down on the sand,yawned, and closed its eyes.

Hasselborg stood still.The audience began to make

crowd-noises, louder and louder.Hasselborg could catch occasionalphrases, the rough Gozashtandouequivalent of "Kill dose bums!" Ob-

50

jects began to whizz down into thearena-a jug, a seat cushion.

Here a couple of Gozashtandumawere punching each other; there an-other was throwing vegetables in thedirection of the dasht{s box; theresome more were pushing one of theguards off the catwalk. The guardlanded in the sand with a jangle, gotup with an agility astonishing for oneburdened with full armor

, and ranfor the nearest exit, though the yekimerely rolled an eye at him beforeshutting it again. Another guardwas beating a group of enraged citi-zens over the head with the shaft ofhis halberd. Other members of the

audience were prying up the woodenbenches and making a fire.

"Master Kavir," cried a voice

over the uproar, "this way!"

Hasselborg turned, saw that thebarred gate was -open a crack, andwalked quickly out without waitingto sec how the riot developed. Oneof the assistant jailers shut the gatebehind him.

"Come quickly, sir." He followedthe man out of the warren of pas-sages into the street, where they puthim back into the cage on wheels.Thunder rumbled overhead as the -

conveyance rattled on its springlesswheels over the cobbles back toward

the jail. They were nearly therewhen the rain began. The driverlashed his ayas and yelled "Byant-hao!" Hasselborg could only hud-dle in the cage and take it.

"We did it, hch heft," said Yesh-ram afterward.


"How?" asked Hasselborg, whowas rigging a string across his cellto hang his wet clothes on.

"Well, now, then, I suppose 'twilldo no great harm to tell ye, since thedeed's done and if one,s betrayed allare lost. 'Twas simple enough; Ibribed Rrafun the beast-keeper intokeeping the ycki awake all night bysquirting water into its cage. ThenI prevailed upon him to let it eat anentire boar unha just before thegame. So, to make a long storyshort, 'twas far more interested in

sleep, sweet sleep, than in forcing oneMikardando spy into an alreadyoverstuffed paunch. Re ye ade-quately equipped for blankets? I,d

not have ye perish of the rheum ow-ing me half my reward. Let,s hopeGarmsel makes a speedy return, erethe dasht things to look into his pet,scurious lack of appetite."

However, the rest of that daypassed, and the night that followedit, without word from either the sol-dier or the dasht. Ilasselborg triedto console himself with the thoughtthat another of these games wouldn,tbe along for some days at least, untilthe next conjunction- Though nodoubt if sufficiently annoyed Djamcould have Ilasselborg executed outof hand.

After dinner there were sounds of

voices and movement in the jail.Presently Yeshram came in withGarmsel, the latter wet and worn-looking.

"You still live, Master Kavir?"said the latter. "Thank the stars ! I

believed it not when this knave, my

THE QUKEN OF 7.AM11A

friend Yeshram, said so, for ,tis no-torious that of all slippery liars he

'

s

the chief and slipperiest. At leastnow I,

ll not have to worry about mydeath horoscope for a time."

"What,s this?" asked Yeshram."What death horoscope?"

"

Just a private understanding be-tween Garmsel and myself," saidHassclborg, who didn't want the sol-dier,s faith in the pseudo-scienceundermined by the jailer

's skepti-cism. "How,d you make out?"

"I got it," said Garmsel. "Theride to Novorecife I made in record

time on my good shomal, but comingback I was slowed by having to leadthree great stout pack-ayas behindme with the bags of gold. ,Tis in the

foyer below, and I trust there'll be110 unseemly forgetting my just re-compense for this deed."

"

When has Yeshram forgotten afaithful friend?" said Yeshram.

"Never, the reason being you'venever had one. But come; pay memy due and I,ll back to barracks to

dry. Fointsaq, what weather!"

When Yeshram returned to Has-selborg,s cell

, the prisoner said:"

Since it,s still raining, wouldn't thisbe a good night to get me out ofhere ?"

The jailer hesitated. Hassclborgread into the hesitation a feeling thatnow that he had the money it mightbe safer to hold Hassclborg after allrather than risk his present gain intrying to double it. Careful, Hassel-borg told himself; whatever you do,

don't show despair or fly into a rage.

Hasselborg said: "Think, my

51

friend. As you,ve said, the dashtmay do some investigating sooner orlater. Something seems to have in-terfered with it so far, and rumortells me he,s having love-life trouble.Now

, when he does come around,wouldn,

t you rather have me faraway from here, making arrange-ments to send you another quarter-million, than here where the dashtcan lay his red-hot pincers on meand perhaps wring the truth fromme ?"

"Certainly, such was my idea,too," said Yeshram readily-a littletoo readily, Hasselborg thought. "Ibut pondered how to effect this de-sired end of ours. Ye"

ll want yourgear, won

,t ye? 'Twere not pru-dent to leave bits of it lying aboutRosid for the agents of His Altitudeto find and perhaps trace ye by.What stuff have ye, and where's itstowed ?"

Hasselborg gave him the informa-tion.

Yeshram said: "Clothe yourselffor a speedy departure, lad, and tryto snatch some sleep, for the arrange-ments will take some hours to per-fect. By which road would ye wishto flee?"

"The road to Hershid, I think.""Then leave all to Yeshram. We,ll

have ye out as neat as the Gavehonthief spirited away King Sabzavarr'sdaughter. And if ye get clean away,when ye,re feeling that wonderful re-lief that,ll be yours, think whetherYeshram mayhap deserves not a miteextra for his trouble, heh heh. Maythe stars guide ye."

52

Next to Earthmen, perhaps themost mercenary race in the galaxy,thought Hasselborg. He found thathis physical organism perversely re-fused to sleep, however. He tossedon his bunk, paced the floor, andtossed some more. His sleeping pillswere still in his room at the inn andso out of reach. Over half this in-

terminable night must have gone pastwhen to his delight he at last foundhimself getting sleepy. He threwhimself down on the bed, closed hiseyes, and instantly was aroused bythe opening of the door of his cell.

"Come," said a figure holding acandle.

Hasselborg jumped up, whippedhis cloak arounÿ him, and strode outthe door. As he got closer to thefigure, he saw that it was maskedand that it held a cocked crossbow ill

one hand. As he brushed past hewas sure that he recognized the eyesof one of the assistant jailers. Thesize and voice were right, too. How-ever, no time for that now.

Below, he found another maskedman standing guard with a crossbowover the jailer and his remainingassistant, both thoroughly bound andgagged. Yeshram caught Hasscl-borg's eye and wiggled his antennaein the Krishnan equivalent of awink. Then out they went into therain, where a man held three sad-dled ayas.

Hasselborg,s companions stoppedto uncock their bows and removetheir masks. They were two of theassistant jailers, sure enough. Allthree, without a word, mounted and


set off at a canter for the east gate.Hasselborg, practically blind in

the rain and darkness, hung onto hissaddle, expecting every minute to bethrown out or to have his mount skidand fall on the wet stones. He con-

centrated so hard on keeping hisseat that he did not see his com-

panions pull up at the gate. Whenhis own mount stopped too he al-most did take a header.

One of his deliverers was shoutingat a spearman: "Fool, where is he?Who? Why, the

.prisoner who es-

caped from the jail! He camethrough here! If ye caught him not,that means he's out of Rosid and

away! Stand aside, idiots !"

The gate swung open. Hassel-borg,s escort spurred their animals toa furious run, though how they couldsee where they were going mystifiedthe investigator. He bounced alongbehind them as best he could, barelyable to make them out in the murk.

A glob of soft mud thrown up byone of their hoofs smote him in the

face, spreading over his features andfor a few minutes cutting him off en-tirely from the world. By the timehe could sec again, they were justvisible ahead, and the lanterns of thecity gate could no longer be seenbehind.

After a few minutes more of this

torture, one of them held up an armand they slowed. Before he knew it,Hasselborg came upon his buggy,parked on the edge of the road. Aman was holding the head of hisnew aya, which was already hitchedup.

CHUTII P. QUEEN OF ZAMBA 53

"

Here ye are, Master Kavir," saida voice in the dark. "Ye,ll find yourgear in the back of the carriage; wepacked it as best we could. Wasteno time on the way, and show nolights, for a pursuit might be sentafter ye. May the stars watch overye!

"

"Good night, chums/, said Hassel-

borg, handing over the reins of theaya he had ridden to the man whowas holding the carriage. The man

ÿ

swung into the saddle and all threesplashed off into the dark.

Hasselborg got into the buggy,

gathered up reins and whip, releasedthe brake, and started off at the fast-est pace he could manage withoutblundering off the road-a slow walk.

VII.

When the sky began to lighten,Hasselborg had been alternately doz-ing and then waking up just in timeto stop himself from falling out ofthe vehicle. He had discovered one

of the very few advantages that ananimal-drawn vehicle has over an

automobile-that the animal can betrusted not to run off the road thesecond the driver takes his mind offhis business.

The rain had stopped, though thesky was still overcast. Hasselborgyawned, stretched, and felt mon-strously hungry. Xo, his friends ofthe Rosid jail, who had thought ofso much else, hadn,t thought to pro-vision the buggy with food; more-over no villages were in sight. Thankthe pantheon they,d packed his pills

Si

and disinfectants, without which hefelt himself but half a man!

He whipped his new aya, Avvauby name, to a brisk trot and for somehours rolled steadily over the flatplain. Finally a ranchhouse pro-vided him with a meal. He boughtsome extra food to take with him,

drove on a few miles, and pulled upwhere the road dipped down to aford across a shallow stream. He

forced the aya to draw the buggydownstream around the first bend,

where the walls of the gully hid himand his vehicle from the view of the

road. There he caught an uneasynap in the carriage before going on.

Just before sunset the clouds be-

gan to break. The road was nowbending atici weaving around the endof a range of rugged hills: theKodum llills if he remembered his

map. Here were trees-real trees,even if they did look like overgrownasparagus-ferns with green trunksand rust-red fronds.

The sunset grew more gorgeous bythe minute, the undersides of theclouds displaying every hue frompurple to gold, and emerald sky show-ing between. Hasselborg thought:If I'm supposed to be an artist,maybe I should learn to act like one.What would an artist do in a case

like this? Why, stop the buggy onthe top of a rise and make a color-sketch of the sunset, to be turnedinto a complete painting at leisure.

The aya was trotting toward justsuch a rise-a long spur that pro-jected out from the dark Kodum

Hills into the flat plain. The animal


slowed to a walk as it breasted the

slope, while Hasselborg fussed withhis gear to extract his paintingequipment. Just short of the cresthe pulled on the reins and set thebrake. The aya began munchingmoss as Hasselborg got out anddragged his easel up to the top of therise. As his head came above the

crest, so that he could sec over thespur into the plain beyond, hestopped short, all thoughts of sur-passing Claude Monet driven fromhis head.

There on the plain ahead a dozenmen on ayas and shomals were at-tacking a group of vehicles. The at-tackers were riding up one side anddown the other shooting arrows,

while several men in the convoy shotback. The first vehicle had been a

great bishtar cart, but the bishtar,perhaps stung by an arrow, had de-molished the cart with kicks and

gone trumpeting off across the plain.Hasselborg dropped his easel and

snatched out the little telescope hehad bought in Rosid. With that hecould make out details-one of the de-

fenders lying on the ground besideone of the wagons; another lightinga Krishnan firework resembling aRoman candle. (Hasselborg knewthat the Krishnan pyrotechnic was.not guni>o\vder, but the collectedspores of some plant, which, whileit did not explode," made a fine sizzleand flare when ignited.) The fire-work spat several balls of flame,whereupon the movement of the at-tackers became irregular. One sho-mal, perhaps singed by a fireball,

broke away and ran across the plaintowards Hasselborg, who could seeits rider kicking and hauling in a vaineffort to turn it back.

Shifting his telescope back to theconvoy, Hasselborg saw a femaleKrishnan in the last carriage.

Though she was too far to recognizein the fading light, he could see thatshe wore clothes of good cut andquality. She was also of an attrac-tive size and shape, and seemed tobe shouting something to somebodyup forward.

Although Victor Hasselborg wasa seasoned and self-control led manwho seldom let himself be carried

away by emotion, this time hisadrenal glands took the bit in theirteeth and ran away with him. Evenas he told himself sternly that heought to hide until the fracas wasover and then continue quietly toHershid

, he ran back to the carriage,unhitched the aya-he was gettingfairly expert with harness-got hissaddle out of the buggy, took off theanimal,s harness

, saddled and bri-dled the beast

, buckled on his sword,mounted, spurred the aya, andheaded for the fray as fast as the ani-mal,s six legs would carry him, as ifhe were the legendary Krishnan heroQarar out to slay a . slither ofdragons.

The robber whose shomal had run

away with him had finally got hisanimal under control and turned it

back toward the convoy. Thereforehe did not see Hasselborg until thelatter was almost upon him, when

Tin: QUEEN OF ZAM15A 55

the sound of hoofs behind him made

him turn. He was just reaching foran arrow when Hasselborg took himin the ribs with his sword from be-

hind. Not quite "sporting, thought1 lasselborg, but this is no time for

chivalry. The blade went in clearto the hilt. Unfortunately the ayacarried Hasselborg past so fast thatthe handle was wrenched out of hishand before he had time to withdraw

the blade from his victim,s body.And there he was, riding full-tilt

and weaponless towards the convoy.Resistance had died down. One man

was tearing off across the plain witha couple of robbers after him, whileanother fenced with three more from

aya-kack. The other robbers werebusy with the remaining people ofthe convoy, binding those who hadfajlcn to their knees and subduingthose who had not. The womrrti was

still standing in the rearmost ve-hicle

, as if waiting for the first robberwho felt so-minded to ride by andscoop her up.

Hasselborg headed for her, call-ing: "I'll try to get you away!" Ashe came nearer he saw that she was

young and beautiful, with the light-blue hair of the western races.

She hesitated as he held out anarm, then let herself be lifted downonto the back of the aya behind Has-selborg. He spun his mount andheaded back the way he had come asa chorus of shouts told him that therobbers did not intend to let this act

go unnoticed.While Hasselborg wondered how

to get out of the predicament into

56

which his impulse had plunged him,his aya carried him past the robberhe had run through. This Krisbnanhad fallen off his shomal and was

crawling on all fours with the hill ofthe sword sticking out of his back.Hasselborg, feeling that he was likelyto need a whole arsenal of wcajxmsin the next few minutes, reacheddown and retrieved his sword. I

ought to have a movie film of thatstunt, he thought; anybody

,d think I

planned it that way."Here comes one," said the

woman. Hasselborg looked around1o see another robber riding hard athim.

He said: "Hold on!" and put hismount into a sharp curve, leaning in-ward as he did so. These six-leggedcreatures could certainly turn on adime, lie thought. The robber pulledup a little, as if surprised to sec asupposedly unarmed man suddenlywhirl and charge him with a sword.

As Hasselborg went by, too ex-cited to remember to thrust, he aimedan overhead cut at the robber,s head.Too late he realized that he,d prob-ably break his blade on the man

,s

iron hat. But Da,vi, the Krishnangoddess of luck, was still with him,for the blow missed by just enoughto shear off an ear and comc downbetween ncck and shoulder. Theman dropped his mace with a howl.

"You,d better hurry," said thegirl. A glance showed that at leastthree other bandits were riding to-ward them.

Hasselborg turned again and re-sumed his flight, wishing he had

ASTOUNDING SCI E N C E-FI CT ION

some shrewd plan of escape all fig-ured out, instead of being in a kindof exalted confusion and anxiety.Still, if he could make the hills be-fore they caught him, he,d have anadvantage on rough ground overthose on the long-legged shomals,and might give them the slip in thedarkness.

Hasselborg,s aya loped up theslope of the rise. A glance backshowed that the pursuers were gain-ing, since Hasselborg"s beast wasslowed by its double load eventhough it was one of the dasht's bighunting breed. Something went pastwith a faint whistling screech. Some

flying creature of the night? No; asthe sound was repeated, Hasselborgrealized that they were shooting ar-rows at him. He pulled Avvau offthe road and headed cross-countryup into the wooded crest of the ridge ;no use leading them right to hiscarriage. Another arrow clattcrcdamong the branches.

"Are they gaining?" he said."I ... I think not.""Hold on tight."Hasselborg,s own heart was in his

mouth as the animal leaped fallenlogs, dropped out from under him asit took a dip, and swerved to avoidtrees. lie clamped the beast

,s bar-

rel with his knees, leaned right andleft, and ducked branches that wereupon him almost before he could seethem. He thanked Providence that

the hunt and the flight from Rosidhad given him at least a little prac-tice at rough riding. The aya stum-bled a couple of times, and Hassel-

borg blessed its six legs as it recov-ered each time without dropping itsriders.

A crash from behind and a volleyof shrill curses. "One of the sho-mals fell

,

" said the girl."Good. Hope the rider broke his

fertilizing neck. If it gets darkenough-"

They must have reached the baseof the spur, where the land rose andfell irregularly in all directions. Has-

selborg pulled to the right down ashallow draw. The animal crashed

through a thicket that tore at itsriders,

legs; then up-down-left-right- The aya almost spilled themas it ran head-on into a sapling inthe darkness. To his horror Hassel-

borg felt his saddle, put on in suchhaste

, beginning to slip out of place."

I think we,ve escaped them,

" said

the girl.Hasselborg hailed the aya and lis-

tened for sounds of pursuit over theheavy breathing of the animal. Adistant crashing and the sound ofvoices came faintly, but after severalminutes the noise seemed to be dyingaway altogether.

.Hasselborg dismounted stiffly andhelped the girl, down, saying:"Haven,t I met you somewhere?"

"How know I ? Who are you,that goes about rescuing damsels indistress?"

"I"m Kavir bad-Ma"lum, thepainter," he said, adjusting thegirths. He seemed to have got halfthe straps buckled together wrong.


"So ? I heard of you at the courtof the dasht."

"I know where I saw you ! Some-body pointed you out to me at thecourt as Fouri bab-Something."

I,m Vazid,s daughter."That,s right, bab-Vazid. And

you'

re somebody*s niece, aren'

t

you :aYou must mean mv uncle Haste.

Haste bad-Labbade. You know, thehigh priest."

"Sure." He wasn't, but no mat-ter. Trot out the courtly manner."I,m glad I was of service to YourLadyship, though I,d rather we,dmet under less strenuous circum-

stances. Were you on your wayhome from Rosid?"

"Yes; I but came thither to visitmy friend the Lady Qei, and sincethe dasht made himself unpleasant, Ithought it time to go home to uncle.Charrasp the merchant had collecteda group to take the new tabid cropto Hershid before the price dropped,and some people of quality hadelected to go with him for safety. So,thought I, why not go at once? Ihope no ill came to my man and my

maid, who were with me. What dowe now?"

"Try to find our way back to theroad, I suppose."

"What then?""

If my buggy,s still there we"llhitch it up and ride into Hershid init. Otherwise we,ll have to ride pil-lion all the way."

"Whither lies the road?""Maybe the stars know, but I

don,t." He listened, hearing nothingbut the breathing of three pairs oflungs. While one of the three moonswas up, the sky was still partlycloudy, so that the moonlight camethrough in fitful beams only.

"Seems to me," he mused, "thatwe came down this little valley afterrunning along that ridge to theleft-"

He started up the draw, leadingFouri with one hand and the ayawith the other. He proceeded cau-tiously, watching for obstacles andlistening for robbers. He led themalong the ridge he thought they hadcome by, then along another branch-ing off from it-and realized that theterrain was quite unfamiliar.

TO Bli CONCLUDED

58

A MATTER

OF MATTERBY L. RON HUBBARD

There have been small-time real-estate swindlers,

but in a galactic economy, the man who sells planetswholesale ivill do it up brown. Like, for instance,

selling the sucker a planet he can,t even sit down on!

Illustrated by Cartier

You have seen the gaudy littleshops along Broadway. Well, thisis a warning not to patronize them.

Planets can be bought perfectlylegally from the Interior Departmentof the Outer Galactic Control and

you don"

t have to follow up the adsyou read and hear over the radio,for no matter what they say, thereis many a man who would be inmuch better health today if he hadnot succumbed to:

IT'S A POOR MANWHO ISN,T KING

IN SOME CORNER.EMPIRES FOR A PITTANCETllRONES FOR A MITE.

Easy Payments, Nothing DownHonest Mike

It sounds so simple, it is so simple.Who would not be an Earthman in

this vital day ? But who would be afool ?

Chuck Lambert was not exactly afool. He was top-heavy. He let his

imagination sweep away all suchthings as petty logic, shaped upthe facts into something which satis-fied his dreams and went merrilyalong, auto-blinded to anything whichshadowed what lie wanted to be-

lieve. Lady Luck, that mischievouscharacter, is sometimes patient witha fool-and sometimes she loadswith buckshot and lets him have it.

When he was eighteen Chuck Lam-bert

, having precociously finishedcollege, got a job moving packingcases and found, after six months ofit, that his boss, a septigenariannamed Colcy, received exactly threedollars a day more than Chuck andhad had to wait forty years for hisadvancement. This was a blow

.

Chuck had visions of being presidentof the company at the age of twenty-four until he discovered this. The

president was taking some glandularA MATTER OF MATTER 59

series or other and was alreadyninety and would live another hun-dred years.

Discouragement lasted just longenough to call Chuck

,s attention to

Madman Murphy, the King ofPlanetary Realtors whose magnifi-cent display, smooth conversation,personal pounciness and assumptionthat Chuck had decided before hehad closed a deal, opened wide thegates to glory.

Chuck was to work hard and in-

vest every dime he could scrape intoProject 19453X. This included,when it was at last paid for, a fulland clear deed of title, properly re-corded and inviolate to the end of

time to heirs and assigns forever,to the Planet 19453X. Murphythrew in as the clincher, free rentalof a Star-Jumper IV and all suppliesfor the initial trip.

When he was out on the side-

walk, Chuck suddenly realized thatit was going to take him eleven yearsof very hard work to pay for thatplanet, providing he starved himselfthe while and had no dates, and hewent back in to reason with Madman

Murphy."Look, Mr. Murphy, it listens to

reasons that all these minerals and

things are worth a lot more than theprice. I

,m more valuable on that

planet than I am here working as aclerk. Now what I propose-"

"Young.man, I congratulate you 1"said Murphy.

"

I envy your youthand prospects! God speed and blessyou !

" And he answered the phone.An aide took Chuck back to the

60

walk and let him reel home on hisown steam. He couldn,t afford now,

an airlift. He had eleven long yearsbefore him when he couldn,t afford

one. He was perfectly free to walkunless his shoes wore out-no pro-vision having been made to replacethem in this budget of eighty per-cent of pay. He was particularlychccrcd when the aide said, "Justto stiffen your resolution, and forno other reason because Madman

Murphy really likes you, you under-stand that this is no provisional con-tract. If you don

't pay, we garnisheeyour pay for the period and keep theplanet, too. That

,s the law andwe

,re sorry for it. Now, God blessyou and good-by."

Chuck didn,t need blessings asmuch as he needed help. It wasgoing to be a very long and gruesomeservitude.

As the months drifted off the

calendar and became years. ChuckLambert still had his literature to

console him but nothing else. It isno wonder that he became a little

lopsided about Planet 19453X.He had a brochure which had one

photograph in it and a mimeographedsheet full of adjectives and if thephotograph was not definitely of hisplanet and if the adjectives did notadd into anything specific, theycheered him in his drudgery.

Earth, at this time, had a millionor more planets at its disposal, sev-eral hundred thousand of themhabitable and only a hundred andfifty colonized. The total revenue


A MATTER OF MATTER 61

derived by Earth from these oddsand ends of astronomy was not fromthe colonies but from the sale of land

to colonists. The normal price ofland, being about one and one halfcents an acre, on New World was afair average price for all properly

colonized planets. Unsurveycd orbs,

nebulously labeled, "Believed habit-

able" were scattered over the star

charts like wheat in a granary.On the normal, colonized planet,

Earth*s various companies main-tained "stations" where supplies, a

doctor and a government of sortswere available. On Planet 19453Xthere would be no doctor

, no sup-

plies, and no government exceptChuck Lambert.

He realized this in his intermin-

able evenings when he sat. dateless,

surrounded by technical books, at-lases and dirty tea cups. The morehe read of the difficulties overcome

by the early colonizers on warrant-edly habitable planets, the thinnerhis own project began to seem.

Me would cheer himself at these

times by the thought that the wholething was only costing him twenty-five thousand dollars and blind him-

self to the fact that better known

bargains often went for two hundredfifty dollars on the governmentauction block. Chuck was top-heavy with imagination. He let itbe his entire compass.

At the end of three years lie hadmade a great deal of progress. Thelibrarian had come to know him.

She was a pleasant young thing whohad her own share of imagination

62

-and troubles-and it gave herpleasure to dredge up new booksfor Chuck to imbibe. Her guidance-her name was Isabel-and his

voracity put him through medicineby the time four years had passed,electronics by five and a half,geology by six, minerology by seven,government theory by seven and aquarter, space navigation by eight,surveying by nine and all the rest ofthe odds and ends by eleven.

She was rather good looking, andwhen she had finally lost her first,elementary desire to marry a million-aire, she began to understand thatshe was in love with Chuck. After

all, when you spend eleven yearshelping an ambitious young man toplow through a dream, you arclikely to be interested in him.

She would have gone with himwithout another thought if he hadasked her. But his last visit to the

library was a very formal one. Hewas carrying a bouquet and he saida little speech.

"Isabel, 1 hope some day to provea worthy investment of your time.I hope to be able to bring you athree-headed butler or maybe a dogin a match box to show my apprecia-tion of your interest. TomorrowI am faring forth. Go*od-by."

This was all with some embarrass-ment. He wanted to ask her but hewas afraid of her a little, librarieshaving that air.

She took the bouquet and sud-denly realized she was liable to cry.She wanted to say something closeand intimate, something to cheer him


in his great adventure, something hecould hold in his heart when the daysand nights were lonely. Hut all shemanaged was a thank you because achild with a runny nose was clamor-ing to be heard on the subject ofhaving lost his last book.

Chuck went away. When hereached the steps and the moldydignity of dead men,s immortality nolonger gripped him, he suddenly ex-panded. lie was almost off on hisgreat adventure. He would comeback and lay a planet at her feet-or at least would invite her to one.

He would catch her out of the li-

brary and propose to her and theywould found a race of kings quiteunlike the youngster with the runnynose.

He expanded and his dreams gotbigger as he walked. He went downto the company and, with somethingof a grand air-spoiled a little be-cause everyone was so busy-saidthat he was off tomorrow for Planet

19453X and glory. The girl gavehim his time and asked him, afterhe had told her about his voyage,what his forwarding address wouldbe. He started to explain that hewas off for beyond beyond andwould have gone far when he sawby her fixed, polite smile that shehadn*t heard a word he said.

But there was still Murphy. Inthe morning when lie came down tothe office he expected his hand to bepumped, a bottle of champagne to bebroken across his space helmet andribbons to be cut. Instead he found

a sallow-faced, bored clerk reading

a racing form and the clerk hadnever heard of him. Madman

Murphy never came in on Satur-days.

Chuck went into a passionate ex-planation and the clerk finally con-sented to look in the files. He did

this with such a superior air thatChuck almost murdered him.

The contract was found, the pay-

ments were checked, the clerk was

finally satisfied-if somewhat sur-prised, for the number of such thatwere finally paid out were quite few-and called a man named Joe to tel!him that a Star-Jumper IV was tobe placed at the disposal of oneChuck Lambert.

Chuck took his deed, checked thenotary

,s commission, checked the

description, checked the location andin short wore the clerk,s patienceentirely out. Finally Chuck took itand went to the registry office, whichwas closed.

The janitor, however, proved ofaid and informed him that he could

send it in by registered mail, retain-ing a photostat. Chuck thanked himand was not further balked

, for alithographer was near at hand andeager for business.

At the port. Chuck landed withhis light luggage, left it under coverfrom the light drizzle which had be-gun, and went to find Joe. It tooksix searched hangars and a coffeeshop to locate the greaseball andthen it seemed that Joe had thoughtthe ship was to be ready for Tues-day. However, much pressing gotconsent for today.

A MATT E R OF MATTER 63

The next six hours were worse

than the past eleven years. Chuckwas here

, so very near his goal, thatseconds stretched out into light-yearsfor him. What constituted his grandgesture was all muddled up andtangled with a number of details likeJoe needing another cup of codecand the starboard magnetrons beingworn out on the Star-Jumper andhaving to be replaced .'and the hy-draulic jack which wouldn,t functionand after an hour,s repair had to beabandoned for another one which

had stood right there all the time.If Chuck had not got out of that

port that afternoon he would havedied of apoplexy* youth or no youth.

He was almost ready, the ship wasfinished, the port clearance securedand Joe given a final cup of colT« 2when he found out that the foo 1

supplies he had had shipped to theport could not be found.

It was dark, a rainy, wet dark,when he finally rose from the port,entered the acceleration height, putdown his throttle and was gone.Chuck Lambert had never tasted

such sweetness. The 4G sag wasnothing to him. The age andobsolescence of the ship was nothingto him, his empty stomach was en-tirely forgotten. Here was sweet-ness. After eleven years he was onhis way.

Now, inasmuch as the Sundayfeature sections you see do such a

fine job of telling how space travellooks and feels and as you may havedone some of it yourself and so don't

64

need to be told, a light-year by.light-year description of ChuckLambert,s voyage to Planet 19453Xis not necessary.

He saw the strange phenomenaof light changes, size changes, stardisplacements and elongations andhe felt all the bodily discomfortsand euphorias and he saw the darkstars and luminous masses and, inshort, he gloried in it. He wrote alog which sounds like a piece ofpoetry done by at least JuliusCaesar. Space and the Universewere his onion. He ran out of di- *

mensions like a spilled wineglass.If he left anything out and if he

missed anything, it was because afterthree or four days of it he had to geta little sleep.

He spent the following monthfilling his log, checking his courseand building up a paper empirewhich stopped only because most ofhis supplies were not paper wrappedand he ran out of writing materials.

Probably few men have everowned as much conquered Universeand purchased Earth as Chuck Lam-bert in those long weeks of hisvoyage. But all things must cometo an end and all dreams mustbreak. Chuck Lambert landed atlast on Planet 19453X.

Now it happened that he had paidvery little attention to his ship. TheStar-Jumper was old and cranky andfull of missing rivets. Her tj'pehad been developed for courier ser-vice in the first Colonial Revolt andabout fifty thousand like her hadbeen sold at a hundred dollars apiece


to a man named Fleigal in Brooklyn.Iler sole virtue was her near ap-proach to perpetual motion but ofher drawbacks there is not enoughpaper here to adequately condemnthem. Like any military job shehad neither grace nor charm, safetynor comfort. And she managed inthis landing in a way calculated todrive any veteran of the spacewaysentirely off his usual imbalance. Shewould not sit down.

Had Chuck been a more experi-enced navigator he would not haveunderstood why. And he was veryfar from that. When he reached the

sta,

r,.h>

e had to brake to a full stopin the middle of the system and takefive hours worth of painful naviga-tion to make sure the star was the

right one. Then he used up twodays examining orbits and theplanets which rati in them to find19453X, a thing which any profes-sional would have finished up beforehe had the star itself within a light-year.

But the hunt and poke system atlast gave results and Chuck, withoutobserving at least one very strangefact about this area, tried to getdown.

19453X had an atmosphere and agreat many clouds. It was aboutseven times the size of Earth. It

had no seas but seemed to possessa remarkable number of marshyareas which left the dry land atabout one-fifth. It had numerous

ranges of mountains and great,stretching plains. Chuck had allthis down and noted with some en-

A MATTER OF MATTER

thusiasm, for it was his world, allhis.

And then the Star-Jumper driftedsomewhere between ground and sky,no power, no lifts, nothing.

Chuck became aware of this situa-

tion after a moment or two. Theleaded ports were not such to permita very good view below. He puta trifle of power to the magnetronsbecause he was anxious to get there.

Vie had his kingdom all organizedand his palace half built when hetouched and his head was full of

such a confusion of thoughts that hewas not instantly aware of anythingwrong.

Then he unbuckled himself from

the pilot,s seat and started to getup. Two things happened. I-Ie hithis head on the overhead and the

ship came off the ground.He was not aware of the second

fact until he opened the door to therear compartment. He thought hemust have left a throttle open andhastened back to the seat. His feet

got no traction. No throttle wasopen. The Star-Jumper was goingskyward at an amazing rate.

Chuck buckled himself in againand with patience, put the ship downonce more. He stayed there at thecontrols and watched, just in case.He was in a grottolike valley, honey-combed, colorful hills before himand beside him. These promptlybegan to recede once he shut thepower off. He was rising!

Chuck was no electronic genius.He had read the books. And theydidn,t have any answers for this.

65

He assumed a high wind and pouredon power. Back went the ship,

bump, hump against the ground.He didn*t want to bother about

this any more. He was too anxiousto see his planet, stand on it, feel itand taste it. If his ship wouldn,

t

stay landed, then there were waysto do it.

He coaxed the conti*ols until the

Star-Jumper skittered over theground. A big cave opened up inthe hill ahead and he resolutely puthis ship,s-bulk into it. It was a tightsqueeze and it didn

,

t help the paint,but the Star-Jumper"s eccentricitywas foiled. Whether it would or no,now

, it had to stay down.

Chuck got up. He put on his hel-met, took down some extra crxygencartridges, buckled on his flying beltand was prepared to explore. Thathe was having difficulty in here get-ting traction and bumping intothings he did not heed. He wasspace dizzy already. He had beenknocking around in this interior forso many weeks he couldn,

t registerany difficulty. He didn't.

He opened his air lock, closed itbehind him with commendable cau-

tion, opened the outer port andstarted to jump down.

But he didn't jump dozen. liewent up and hit the cave roof witha clang, to cling there like a batupside down and completely be-wildered. lie was walking wrongend to and getting traction like a flyand, personally, it didn

,t feel good.He stood there, head down, think-

ing about it. Nothing in the numer-ous books Isabel had dug out for himhad contained any such data as this.Carefully lie walked toward the lightand came close to the opening.There he slipped and "fell" straightup over the lip and would have kepton going to the absolute zero ofspace if his flying belt hadn

'

t been

in working order. It was. Abouta thousand feet up. Chuck got itgoing and with considerable grati-

fication, power-dived back to his

planet and by dint of some adjust-ing, made a soft landing in a claybank, straight up.

The clay was very sticky andmired his boots considerably and,belt still going, he managed to clam-ber out of this strange bog to dryland. Me tried here to turn his jetsoff and, much to his surprise, whenhe turned them off, lie stayed rightside up just as he thought he should.

Chuck heaved a very deep sigh ofrelief in that moment. For a while

there he thought he had run intosomething which was way beyondhis engineering depths; with someconfidence now he struck out afoot

for the first ridge which would lethim over and into the broad valleyhe had spotted coming in.

Spaceports, being insulated theway they are, have a nasty knackof obscuring the view and he did notrealize until he reached the crest thathe had, indeed, a lovely, lovelyplanet.

It was green and purple and goldand the docks and rivers shined be-low him. Trees waved in a gentle


wind, grass rippled, brooks laughed.It was charming.

He went down the slope, carefulbecause he didn,t seem to be able to

restrain a bounding tendency he hadnever before noticed in his walk, andknelt reverently beside the firstbrook. It was his, all his.

Incautiously he started to removehis helmet, being all unguarded be-fore this greenery, and promptlybegan to suffocate. It was not thepressure. As far as pressure went,that was about equal. It was thequality of the air. As soon as hestarted to breathe it he started to

suffocate. He had enough prompti-tude to clamp his helmet back on andgive himself oxygen and only thatsaved his life.

Was it because the air was poison ?But no, he didn't seem to be poi-soned, only unsatisfied. He stoodthere and blinked in the bright day-light at the lovely trees.

He looked at the brook. The

water was laughing but was it laugh-ing at him ? He scooped some up inhis fingers, half expecting it to turninto vitriol, but it was cool and moistand pleasant. He opened his helmetair lock and inserted a cup of it andwhen he got it through and got theswallow down he was instantlysorry. It came right back up.

It wasn't that it tasted bad; thatwould be a relief. It just wasn,

t

the sort of thing his stomach wantedand his stomach didn"t know why.

This made Chuck a trifle bitter. *

A pretty brook, lovely clouds,obvious air. He made a hurried re-

A MATTER OF MATTER

check of his oxygen supply and de-cided he had enough for a couple ofmonths if he was careful of it. But

what of his lovely kingdom?

He did not see that he had real

live subjects until he had gone nearlya kilometer andN

then he saw the

cluster of huts, neatly blended intoa river bend,

s trees.

The village probably contained acouple of hundred people or thingsand Chuck instantly loosened up hisgun in its holster and went forwardquietly. But if he had just now seenthem, they had long since seen himand there wasn't so much as a petin that village.

He looked it over. Comical huts,

fitted with round thatch roofs,

floored with river reeds. There were

metal cooking pots and metalweapons. And a real, live firesmoldered in the middle of the mainhut. It was common. It was almost

uninteresting except that these be-ings were sentient and skilled in acertain culture.

Perhaps he would not have hadany intercourse with them at all ifhe had not, just as he was leaving,

found the old woman.

She was too old to be spry and shewas too scared to hide all of her in

the hay pile and so Chuck tapped hergently and coaxed her out.

"Oof! Oof!" she screamed,

meaning, "Don,t kill me!"

Chuck looked her over. The fea-

tures were not quite right but thiscreature was a biped, looked remark-

AST-3J (7

ably like Earth women and certainlydidn"t offer him any menace.

Chuck made her understand, amidmany "oofs" that nothing untowardwas intended. Mis efforts to com-

municate the facts by signs, that hewas the owner of this planet and thatthese people were his subjects werereceived round-eyed and interpretedin some outlandish fashion he wasnever to know.

After a while she finally took himto the village center where a bucketof water stood beside a big stonesquare and Chuck sat down. Heknew he couldn,t drink the water

but he wanted to appear mild andtractable, the way a true planetowner should.

She went oil and yelled around inthe reeds and after some time a

number of men, hairy fellows,mostly forehead and biceps, cameback, carefully extending theirspears to be ready to repel boardersand finally saw that Chuck sat theremildly enough.

This was all very satisfying toChuck. This was the way it shouldbe. They considered him a superiorbeing and he began with many oofsto convince them how very safe andmild he was and how they wouldbenefit from his rule. They gotrather near and finally relaxedenough to ground their spear butts.Chuck grew expansive. lie wastalking through his electronicspeaker, which was turned up ratherhigh, and his voice must havereached a good long ways for more

and more people came curiously tosee what was happening.

Finally a young maiden whomChuck found not at all ugly creptforward and touched his foot. Thisexcited some wonder. She looked

bravely up at him and he felt ele-vated. She took a stick and beganto clean the clay off his boots withshort pries and Chuck, in middlesentence

, found himself gettinglighter and lighter. He was a footoil the ground before the end of hisuncomprehended paragraph and wasbeginning to accelerate when hisaudience took off with one longscream of alarm.

The girl crouched where she hadbeen, looking up. Chuck rose to ahundred feet

, going faster, got hisjets going at last and came down.

The girl cringed, head bowed,shivering. Chuck touched her hairand then a jet spluttered and hewent up once more. Altogether heconsidered the interview at an entire

end. Humiliated,.he navigated him-

self over the center of the village,looked sadly down at the frightenedeyes peering from the reeds and

,

then

changed his course back to the ship.Enough was enough for one day.

He sat for a long time on hiscabin ceiling, thinking about fatethat night. He wrote a letter toIsabel in which he confessed himself

entirely confounded and disheart-ened. Before he finished it he was

beginning to get mad at MadmanMurphy.

Eleven years. Eleven hard, toil-


some years for a planet he couldn't

even walk upon!He crept out about midnight and

looked at the stars, holding on hardto the cave lip to keep from flyingaway into space, and then it occurredto him that he had a legal course.

He went back to it and worked it

out. Tt was true. He was on the

extreme perimeter of the galaxy.The star in whose system his planetlay was not, contrary to ordinarybehavior, traveling outwards fromthe hub but was traveling inwardsat a fast rate. Elementary calcula-tion showed that it was making somethousand miles a second into the

galaxy. If he could claim that thiswas not, as the contract stated, asystem belonging to the EarthGalaxy, then he could have Madmanup before the courts and have hismoney back. With that he couldbuy another place, a few thousandacres on some proven colonial orband he and Isabel could settle down

and raise kids. And then he got tothinking about the vagaries of lawand the money lawyers cost andrealized that Madman Murphywould never have to refund a penny.

This almost crushed him.

He had a planet on which lie couldnot possibly live, whose air he couldnot breathe, whose water he couldhot drink, and the owning of it hadtaken the best of his life. He was

almost ready to end it all when heheard a rustling outside.

There was a clink, clink.

Visions of a combat, blaster

against spears, drove all thought of

suicide away aud he hclmeted him-self promptly and passed throughhis air lock to find, not warriors,but the girl who had cleaned hisboots.

It was hard standing on the ceil-ing shining a light down upon her.She was very humble. She had abowl of white liquid which wasprobably milk and a little piece ofbread and she made shivery motionsat them.

Instantly Chuck knew he was agod.

Now there have been many menin the human race who have found

themselves gods and never once hasit failed to "bolster their droopingspirits nor spur their lagging wits.She had come like a brave little


thing to leave food for the goblinand if she died in the consequence,

she had done it all for her village.It was plain.

Chuck hand-holded down his shipside and came near her. He knew

better than to try to cat that foodand it wasn,t food lie was interested

in. It was the fact that she walked

on the ground and he couldn,

t. She

had some beads around her neck,

metal spheres of some brilliance.He held his hand for them and she

took them off and gave them to him.He gave her a fountain pen whichhad ceased to work and when she

accidentally let it go, he brought itdown from the ceiling and returnedit to her. She tied it with a dress

string and there it bobbed, trying torise.

"Oof, oof," she said, meaning

"Thank you." ,"

Thank you,

" Chuck said, mean-ing, "Oof, oof."

He remembered, as he looked atthese beads, the clay on his bootsand he swiftly put several handfulsof rocks in his pockets. They kepthim down. This was nerving. Hewent for a walk with her in the star-

light.It is certain they did not talk about

much. It is also certain that Chuck,

did a terrible lot of thinking. He dida lot of calculating in an elementaryway and then, suddenly, things cameright to him.

Madman Murphy had skunkedhim. There was no recourse. Butit had been an adventure.

He was taking her back to the

ridge so that she could descend toher valley and tell people it wasn'tso tough talking with gods after alland that they did not always gospinning ofT into space on you. Butjust before they reached the placehe would leave her she stopped andpointed into a hole in the hill.

There were lots of holes in thehill but she was insistent about this

one as one of the local sights and heobliged her and startled her into ascreech by turning on a flashlightand shining it down.

He almost screeched himself.

The whole hole was glitteringyellow.

, Chuck went wonderingly for-

ward and put out a gingerish hand.The entire place was studded withpure metal. Pure yellow metal.Where ore came in veins on Karth

it came in solid elements up here.As far as he could estimate he was

looking, down this tunnel centuriesold, at about a thousand million tonsof metal.

This was what they made intospears and vessels and he had missedthe quality of these items only be-cause spears and vessels get dirty.He was afraid to examine it closer.He could see from where he was thatif there was this much in one hole-

Chuck took a piece and tested it.But it was very hard. He poundedat it a bit. It was still too hard.He looked at it and let it fall. He

put a knife into a crack and triedto pry out a bigger piccc and theknife slipped and went up and layagainst the roof of the drift.

70 ASTOUNDING SCIKNCE-FICTION

Chuck stood there and thoughtabout it. Then he raccd back to the

ship, leaving the girl where she was,and returned carrying whatever wasof weight he had been able to grab.He went to work.

Two months later. Chuck Lam-bert sat behind a big desk in theUniverse Building in New YorkCity.

The newspaper reporters evenwere awed by the proportions ofthis office and the scientists and busi-

ness men present were very polite.Chuck had his feet up and sat

mostly on the back of his neck."Boys,

" he said, "you,ve got allthe story there. How I made thetrip, what I found, what I intendto do/ I think that,s about it.""Mr. Lambert," said a Ledger re-

porter politely, "as a matter of hu-

man interest, could you let me havesome personal details. Some littlething- You mentioned a girlnamed Isabel-"

"Married," said Chuck. "Married

yesterday up at the City Hall. That'swhy,

" he added with a big grin, "Idon,t want to drag on here.""But this girl on 19453X-" said

another reporter."Rich. She,ll be richer. They,ll

all be rich even if T don*

t ever sec

my subjects again. Now if youclon,t mind-"

"Mr. Lambert," said the business

manager of International Flyvvays,"you are sure you can deliver enoughof this, material-"

"Enough," chimed Ross of Ross

Construction, "to make skyscrap-ers-,

"And bridges-" added the bridgebuilder.

"And spaceships," said Inter-colonial,s man.

"Gentlemen," said Chuck, "Itowed down a piece of that metalas big as the village men could hackout and melt up for me. That waswith crude stuff. Just a sample.I,ve got billions, billions of cubicyards of it and no cost to transport.It,s chcap and since I filed on therest of the planets in that system,

I*

m afraid this is a monopoly. Butjust the same, the price is the sameas steel to you. Now if you don*

t

mind-"

.

They were satisfied and they filedout, all but one thick-len»cd littleman.

"Mr. Lambert, I know you arc ina hurry, being new married and all,

but I was so far in the back-"

Chuck beamed on him. The littleman took heart.

"I,m from Daily Topics, youknow," said the little man. "Our

readers . . . well, they like to geta pretty lucid account-"

"Sure," said Chuck. "Sure." He

waved a hand at the glitteringnodules of metal on his desk whichwere incased in lead holders. He

took one out and it promptly liftedand went up to the ceiling where itstuck. Chuck, after a few jumps,got it down again.

"That,s Lambert metal for you,

"

said Chuck. "Floats. Rises. Neg-ative weight. Point nine tenths the


tensile strength of steel. Can beforged-""But I don,t understand what

makes it rise,

" pleaded the little man."Planet 19453X-which I have

rcchristened Isabel-is part of arenegade system which moved infrom another galaxy after some in-terminable crossing of space. It istraveling toward our hub but itwon

"t get there for another threeor four billion years. Its matter ismade of another kind of energyfrom ours, which, making up inusual atomic and molecular forms

,

has no affinity or repulsion for ourown matter. It is very simple. Itjust isn*t made of the same kind ofenergy.

"

"But what makes it rise?""Planfcts revolve and things on

their surface have centrifugal force.This material still has mass, and so itseeks to rise. Therefore it will

make bridges which need no abut-ments, ships which have to be car-goed to be kept in the atmosphere,skyscrapers which will have to beanchored, not founded-but I amsure you understand."

The little man blinked. He re-leased one of the balls of Lambert

metal and it went up to the ceiling.He fled.

Chuck Lambert went home to

Isabel to plan out a ninety roomhouse 011 Long Island and five kids.

Madman Murphy has a big pic-ture of Chuck in his window and a

fine argument about wildcat planets.But don"t trust him. There was

only one 19453X.THE ENDIN TIMES TO COME

Next month,s covcr-by Orban-is taken from Poul Anderson,s novelette, "The

Double Dyed Villains". It,s a yarn that suggests that there may be other ways of keep-ing peace in the Galaxy than by being honest, upright, truthful, and living cleanly. It,sreally a fascinating sort of idea-and a darned good yarn. I,ll he interested in yourreactions on Anderson*

s proposals-your sccond-thought reactions, for at first thoughtthe suggestions, you

"

ll find, are unpleasant.

Of course, Hasselborg, Jalna, and Co. will be back. De Camp is well started in this

issue; next month he really has fun with the cockeyed situations of his backwardworld

, inhabited by oversize Leprechauns with happily murderous notions.

We arc beginning to get inquiries-and I was interrupted at that moment by such atelephoned query I-oil Latham's "Aphrodite Project". It was an article about Venus-and a story about an attempt to send a rocket there. The blurb said "Perhaps notfact . . . but could be." In view of this, I herewith state, and give due forewarning, thatnext month,s issue carries "Progress Report", by John Pomcroy. It isn't fact. It,s fun,with gags at all levels, including some for the chemothcrapist I

The Editor.


TROJAN HORSE LAUGH

BY JOHN D. MACDONALD

They say laughterfs infectious, and psychologists recentlyhave found evidence of rhythm patterns in human emo-

tions. But MacDonaldfs proposing a nasty combination-

Illustrated by Quackcnbush

DIVERT YOUR PSYCHEADJUST YOUR ID

JOIN TPIE CROWD ANDGROOVE YOURSELF, KID.

"

Like honey on a slow fire," JoeMorgan said in a mildly nauseatedtone. "Where,n earth they get babeswith those voices ?"

Sadie Barnum, beside him on thefront seat of Joe's vast and asth-matic monster of an automobile,

grinned in the darkness, crooned lowin a throat, singing an almost per-fect imitation of the radio commer-

cial. . . and groove yourself, kid.""Oh

, no!" said Joe. "No!"The car was in the park above the

TROJAN HORSE- LAUGII 73

city, nuzzling the stone wall, cheekand jowl with the newer and shiniermodels on either side. The commer-

cial had originally come from theradio in the car on their left.

Below them, the lights of the cityof Daylon made it a very nice look-ing night indeed.

"You could turn my overpower-ing love to hate, Barnum," Joe said."Let us get back to what we camefor." He reached for her.

Sadie, her jaw set, fended him offdeftly. She had turned so that thedim light touched her face. It wasa small, alert, vital face, some of theforce of it stolen by eyes that werebig and sea-gray and an invitation todrown quietly.

"

Now that the subject has beenbrought up, Joseph," she said firmly,"we will dwell on it apace."

Joe slumped grimly behind thewheel. lie was a longheaded citi-zen

, a crisp black crew-cut pepperedwith premature gray, a limp and lazybody which he threw into chairs inthe manner of someone tossing a wettowel, which body, during war years,he had tossed out of various and sun-

dry aircraft."Go dwell," he said.

She held up a small hand, countingfirmly on her fingers. "One-Day-lon is a test city for Happiness, In-corporated. Thus the price is rea-sonable. Two-it doesn,t hurt a bit.

Marg told me that. Three-you ar.ea moody cuss and I expect to marryyou the next time you ask me andyou

,re going to be rugged to live withunless we get adjusted." Her voice

began to quaver. "Besides, I thinkyou

,re just being . . . oh, stuffy andnarrow-minded about the whole

thing."Joe sighed. He had heard it be-

fore. And always before he hadmanaged to change the subject be-fore he was pinned down. But some-thing in Sadie's tone made him real-ize that this time it wasn't going tobe quite as simple.

He collected his forces, turned inthe seat, took her small hands ih hisand said: "Honey, maybe you havethe idea that Joseph Morgan, re-porter for the A'cws, likes to thinkof himself as a rugged individualist.Maybe you think it,s a pose with me.Look, Barnum, I'm Joe Morgan andI,m the guy you happen to love. Atleast I think you do. I,m not a con-formist and it isn,t a pose. I don,trun around in the same mad little cir-

cles as other people because I'm not

sold on the idea that what they,re

after is a good thing."

Tn a small voice she said : "But

they*re after happiness, and security,

and a home, and kids. Is that bad?""By itself, no. But what hap-

pens to their heads? Nobdtiy talksany more. Nobody thinks. All thosethings are fine if you can get themwithout losing intellectual self-respect. Why do you think T drivethis crate instead of a new one? Justbecause I won,t play patty-cake withthe people I,m supposed to playpatty-cake with. When I want to beamused, I don

,t have to go to themovies or turn on the TV or go seea floor show. I,m the unmechanized

74 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION,

man, baby. Maybe I'm wrong, but

it"s no pose.""But Joe, darlin,

, what,s that gotto do with going and taking theshots?"

"Everything. I don,t want anyneedles stuck in me to make me joy-ous. I don't want my emotionalcycle analyzed and adjusted to matcheverybody else

,

s cycle. I want to bemy own man, all the way."

"You don't let that attitude creepinto the feature stories you,ve beenwriting about Happiness, Incor-porated."

"Becaues I,m a conscientious hack,

baby. I make the little words dowhat I want them to do."

"But, Joe-"

His tone softened. He said:"Sadie, if we both went and got ad-justed, we,d never know how muchof our happiness together was dueto a gent with a needle and a messof charts, and how much was due toSadie and Joe. Let,s make our ownmusic, without outside help."

She came into his arms, her lipsclose to his car. "That,s the first

argument that's made any sense,

Joseph," she said.In a very few moments all

thoughts of Happiness, Incorporatedfled from the minds of Joe and Sadie.But, even as they were fleeing, Joethought, a trifle darkly, of Dr.August Lewsto and the field crewhe had brought to Daylon. Therewas something odd about Lewsto,vaguely unsavory, vaguely disquiet-ing-.

There was a great deal of moneybehind Happiness, Incorporated.They had arrived three months be-fore and it was a newsworthy itemthat Daylon had been selected as thetest city.

Joe Morgan had been assigned thetask of gathering the data for thefirst story. Lewsto had received himin the hotel suite with all courtesy.Lewsto was a gaunt man in his early

fifties with hollow eyes, thin, nerv-ous hands and a habit of smilingbroadly at nothing at all.

"Of course, of course. Do sitdown, Mr.-"

"

Morgan. Of the JVezvs. Maybeyou can give me the dope on thishappiness you expect to peddle. It

sounds like a tough thing to dQ."Lewsto smiled broadly. "Not at

all, Mr. Morgan. Our procedurehas been tested and approved by theforemost medical associations. It is

a bit difficult to explain it to the lay-man.

"

"You can try 111c, Doc.""Everyone, Mr. Morgan, has an

emotional cycle. The period be-tween the peaks varies with the in-dividual, as does the degree of in-clination and declination. Call this

cycle the emotional rhythm of theindividual. This chart shows youthe emotional cycles of each indi-vidual in a family of four. Note howthe mother,s cycle is of ten days,duration, a very short cycle, and alsonote how the peak in each case is sohigh as to he almost psychotic. In

the depths of depression she is often

TROJAN IIORSE LAUGII 75

closc to suicidal. A very difficulthome life for the family."

"I imagine.""This basic life rhythm is the

product, Mr. Morgan, of the secre-tions of the glands and variationsin the intensity of the electrical- im-pulses within the brain itself. Nowlook at this chart. This shows the

same family after adjustment. Wehave not eliminated the cycle. Wehave flattened the woman's cycle,made the man,s a bit more intense,

and adjusted the cycles of the twochildren. Now this family can planahead. They know that during eachthirty-day period they will feel in-creasingly better for twenty days.Then there will he five days of warmjoy, and a five day decline, not tooabrupt, to the starting point. Theywill feel good together, mildly de-pressed at the same time. They canplan holidays accordingly and theycan always judge the mood of theother members of the family by theirown mood."

"I suppose you have to get theglands and the electricity in line,eh?"

"Quite right. We chart the cycleof each person by a method which, Iam afraid, must be kept secret. Then,for each individual, we prepare aninjection designed to stimulate cer-tain endocrinological manifestations,and suppress others. After thirtydays a booster shot is necessary."

"How big a staff do you have?""I brought forty persons with me.

More will be employed locally. Cer-tain equipment is being shipped to

me and I am negotiating to rent abuilding on Caroline Street."

"You arc going to advertise?""

Oh, certainly! Radio, sky writ-ingt posters, newspaper ads, directmail and a team of industrial sales-men.

"

"What do you mean by industrialsalesmen ?"

"Take Company X. It employsthree hundred men. A round dozen

arc chronic complainers and trouble-makers. Others have bad days whentheir work is poor. Morale is spotty.If one hundred percent of the em-ployees are adjusted, the personneldirector will know what the plantmorale will be at any time. It willthus be possible to plan ahead and setproduction schedules accordingly.Labor difficulties are minimized and

profit goes up.""Sounds like Nirvana," Joe Mor-

gan said dryly. "What docs para-dise cost?"

"Ten dollars for the individual.Eight dollars per person for indus-trial contracts. Frankly, Mr. Mor-gan, that is less than our costs,though I do not wish you to printthat information."

At that moment there was a knock

at the door. Dr. Lewsto went to

the door, brought in a very tall, verygrave young woman who, in spiteof her severe dress, her air of dig-nity, seemed to walk to the hauntingbeat of a half-heard chant.

"Mr. Morgan, this is Miss Par-dette, our statistician."

Her handshake was surprisinglyfirm. Dr. Lewsto continued, "Miss


Pardette has been iti Daylon for thepast month with her assistants, com-piling statistics oil industrial pro-duction, retail sales and similar mat-ters. She will compile new figuresas our work progresses.

" Lewsto,s

voice deepened and he took on a lec-ture platform manner. "It is ouraim to show, with Daylon as ourtest city, that the American city can,through Happiness, Incorporated, bemade a healthier, happier and moreprofitable place in which to live."

.Joe Morgan gravely clapped hishands. Both Miss Pardette and Dr.Lewsto stared at him without friend-liness.

Dr. I-ewsto said : "I'm afraid, MrMorgan, that I detect a rathpr child-ish sort of skepticism in your man-ner. -You should not be blind to

progress."

"How could you say such a thing,Doc?" Joe asked blandly. "I,m im-pressed. Really impressed. Everyred-blooded American wants happi-ness. And you're the man to see that

he gets it."Lewsto said, visibly melting, "Ah

. . . yes. Yes, of course. Forgiveme, Mr. Morgan."

But Joe felt the cold eye of MissPardette on him.

He said quickly, "Am I to assume,Dr. Lewsto

, that you will give every "one of your patients the same basicemotional cycle?

"

"Yes. That is the key to the wholepicture. Instead of a tangled mazeof cycles, everyone we treat will haveexactly the same cycle, co-ordinatedwith everyone else."

TROJAN. HORSE LAUGH

II.

WI-IERE,D YOU GET THATEMOTIONAL BINGE?

IT'S AS OUT OF STYLE ASA RUSTY HINGE.

WIPE THAT FROWN OFFYOUR SULKY BROW-

WITH A TEN DOLLAR BILL

GET ADJUSTED NOW!

Main Street. Tt just happens to beDaylon. It could be anybody,s mainstreet. Warm May sun, sweatingcops implementing the street lightsat the busiest corners. A rash of

panel delivery trucks, housewivescruising looking for a place wideenough in which to park, music blar-.ng from a radio store.

Three blocks from the very centerof the city another cop has been de-tailed to keep the line orderly infront of number thirty-four, Caro-line Street. It is a small building,and across the front of it is a hugesign-"HAPPINESS, INCORPO-RATED".

The line moves slowly toward the:doorway. Inside, it is rapidly and]efficiently split into the appropriategroups. Those who are arriving forthe first time pay at the desk on theright, receive their number. Thereare a hundred thousand ]>eoplc inDaylon. The new numbers being is-sued are in the eleven thousandseries.

Those whose cycles have beencharted, are shunted up the stairs towhere a small vial awaits, bearingtheir number. A smaller group files

77

toward the hack of the building forthe essential booster shots.

A plump little man sulks in line,herded along by his wife who looksoddly like a clipper ship under a fullhead of sail.

She says, "And you listen to me,Ilenry. After nineteen years of put-ting up with your childish moodsthis is one time when you arc goingto-"

Her voice goes on and on. Henrypouts and moves slowly with thecrowd. He tells himself that no shot

in the arm is going to make his lifeany more enjoyable. Not with thefree-wheeling virago he has enduredfor these many years.

The policeman on the beat issweating but lie smiles fondly at theline. Fastened to the lapel of hisuniform is a tiny bronze button withan interlocked H and T. Happiness,Incorporated. The bronze button isissued with the booster shot.

Back to.the main drag. A diaper

delivery truck tangles fenders with abread truck. Hoth drivers are at

fault. They climb out, and, throughforce of habit, walk stiff-legged to-ward each other, one eye on the dam-age. They both wear the little bronzebutton. Thev smile at each other.

W

"No liarm done, I guess. Any-way, not much.

"

"Same here. Hey, you,re one ofthe happiness boys, too."

"Yeah, I got herded into it by thewife."

"Me too, and I'm not sorry. Giveseverything a glow, sort of."

They stand and measure each

other. The cycle is on the upswing.Each day is better than the last. Thepeak is approaching. It is but threedays away.

"Look, let,s roll these heapsaround the corner and grab a quickbeer."

Main Street in May. A small,ruffian child, pressed too closely in a 'department store, unleashes a bootthat bounces smartly off the shin ofan elderly matron.

The matron winces, smiles placidlyat the child,s mother, limps away.

The mother grabs the infant by theear. "You're lucky she was one ofthe adjusted ones, Homer. I

'

m go-

ing to take you home and belt you afew, and then I,m going to take youand your father down and get bothof you adjusted."

.

Main Street with a small differ-

ence. People smile warmly atstrangers. There is a hint of laugh-ter in the air, a hint of expectancy.The little bronze buttons catch the

sun. The unadjusted stare bleaklyat the smiles, at the little buttons, andwonder what has happened to every-body. They begin to feel as thoughthey were left out of something.

Joe Morgan walks dourly alongthe street, rigidly suppressing anurge to glare at every,

smile.

A man hurrying out of a doorwayruns solidly into him. Joe, caughtoff balance, sits down smartly. Heis hauled to his feet, brushed off.

.

His

hand is pum|>cd up and down by thestranger.

"Whyn't yah look where you,rerunning?" Joe asks.

78 ASTOUNDING SCIEN.CE-FICTION

"Fella, I,m sorry. I was just plain

clumsy. Say, can I buy you a drink?Or can I take you anywhere ? Mycar

,s right around the corner."Joe squints at the little bronze

button, says, "Skip it," walks downthe street.

Joe is unhappy. The managingeditor, proudly sporting a littlebronze button

, has set up a perma-nent department called, "The Prog-ress of Happiness," and he has as-signed Joe Morgan to run it. Joe isout tracking down progress.

He stands across the street and

glares at the long line waiting to beprocessed, lie is torn by doubts,wonders vaguely whether he oughtto join the line and be adjusted. Buthe cannot permit such a violation ofhis right of privacy.

He goes into the offices assignedto Miss Pardctte.

Miss Pardette was busy. Joe Mor-gan sat near her desk, cocked hishead to one side and listened care-

fully to the music she seemed tocarry around with her. He couldn,

t

help thinking of Alice Pardette aswasted talent. All she would have

to do in any floor show would be towalk across the floor. In the propercostume she would make strong menclutch the tablecloth and signal foranother drink. The vitality of herseemed to press against the dark suitshe wore like a torrential river held

taut by a new dam.At last she looked up. Joe said:

"What,s new on delirium today, kit-ten?" .

"

I find your attitude offensive,

"

she said. The words were prim andproper. The tone was husky gold,a warm wrapping for hidden caress.

Joe smiled brightly. "I find hap-piness offensive. So we>

re even.

What can T put in the paper, MonaLisa?"

She shuffled the papers on herdesk. "I have just compiled a re-port on the first month of operationof the Quinby Candy Company sincethe last of their employees receivedthe booster shot. You will have to

clear this report with Mr. Quinbybefore publishing it. He reports asix point three percent drop in ab-senteeism, a two percent drop in pil-ferage, an eleven percent drop intardiness. Total production was upeight point eight percent over thepreceding month, with a drop in re-jections and spoilage and consequentincrease in estimated net profit fromthe yearly average of four point sixpercent to five point three percent.The fee to adjust his workers wastwo thousand three hundred four

dollars. It is Mr. Quinby,s esti-mate that he recovered this initial

cost in the first two weeks of opera-tion."

"How nice for him," Joe said,glancing at the figures he had scrib-bled in his notebook. He said : "IIow

did a dish like you get into thisracket ?"

"Dr. Lewsto employed me.""I mean in the statistics game."She gave him a long, steady look.

"Mr. Morgan, I have found that fig-

TROJAN HOUSE LAUGH 79

ures are one of the few things in lifeyou can depend upon."

"I thought you could depend onthe kind of happiness that you peo-ple sell." He looked at the bronze

button she wore.She followed the direction of his

glance, looked down at the button.She said: "I,m afraid I,m not enti-

tled to wear this. Dr. Lewsto in-sisted that it would be better for

morale for me to wear it. But a

statistician must maintain a rigidlyobjective attitude. To become ad-justed might prejudice that attitude."

"How about Lewsto? He wearsone.

"

"

It is the same thing with him."The backers felt that

,,

as adminis-trator, he should refrain from becom-ing adjusted."

"Just like the restaurant ownerwho goes out to lunch?"

He saw her first smile. It ranglike hidden silver bells. "Some-

thing like that, Mr. Morgan."He sighed. "Well, how far arc

we as of today ?""New patients are in the eleven

thousand scries. Fifty-nine hundredtotally adjusted."

"Where arc those fifty-nine hun-dred on the chart ?"

She stood up, took a pointer andtouched it *> the big chart on the wallbehind her. "Right here. In threedays they will be at the peak. Theywill remain at the peak for five days,then five days of regression beforethey begin the climb back up again."

Joe said softly: "It gives me afunny feeling in the pit of my stom-

80

ach. All those people being pushedthrough an emotional cycle like cat-tle being herded down the runwaysin Chicago."

"You>d change your attitude ifyou would submit to adjustment.

"

Joe stood up and stretched. "Ex-

actly what I,m afraid of, friend.

Morgan, the Unadjusted. That'sme.

"

At the door he turned and wavedat her. But she was studying re-ports and she did not look up.

III.

FROM GIMMY RIKER,S COLUMNIN THE NEW YORK STANDARD

TRIBUNE: "The boys with the beardscouldn"t find anything wrong with oneDoc Lewsto and his gland hand, so,financed by mysterious backers. DocI.cwsto is turning the tanktown of Dayloninto a carnival of joy. They say thatthings are so gay over there lately thatthe Federal Narcotics people arc watchingit. If the national debt is getting youdown, maybe you ought to run over andlet the good doctor give you the needle."

FROM AN EDITORIAL IN THE HO-TEL-KEEPERS, GUIDE FOR JUNE:"If this sale of Happiness is extended ona country-wide basis, it is evident fromreports wc have received from our Daylonmembers, that managers of bars, clubs andhotels will have to make alterations in

basic policy. The money coming into thetill closely follows the emotional cycle setup by Dr. August Iÿewsto to such a de-gree that during the peak of the curve ourmembers were unable to meet the demand,whereas

, at the bottom of the curve, busi-ness fell off to nothing. However, theoverall picture on a monthly basis showeda fifteen to eighteen percent improvement."


FROM THE MINUTES OF A SE-CRET MEETING IN THE PENTA-GON BUIl.DING. EXCERPT FROMTHE SUMMARY BY LIEUTENANTGENERAL GRADERSBY : "Thus. gen-tlcmcn, we can conclude that this socio-logical experiment in Daylon constitutesno threat to our essential defense produc-tion at the X plant four miles distant. Infact, production lias improved as has thequality of the end product. It is agreedthat il is only coincidence that this ex-periment by Happiness. Incorporated wasset up in the nearest city to X plant, theonly current manufacturer of that item soessential to our military strength. How-ever, it is recommended that a committee

be formed to consider the question of set-ting up an alternate facility and that allnecessary steps be taken to implement andfacilitate the formation of such a commit-

tee and that the workings of this commit-tee be facilitated by a further implementa-tion of-"

DECODED EXCERPT FROM AN IN-NOCENT-APPEARING PERSONALLETTER SENT TO DR. AUGUST

LEWSTO: "Units B, C, D and E havearrived at the key citics originally indi-cated. Your reports excellent, providingbasis for immediate industrial contracts,one of which already signed involving fivethousand workers in basic industry withsubcontract for propulsion units. Forwardsubsequent rc|»orts of progress directly tomen in charge of indicated units, detailingto each of them five trained technicians

from your staff. Report in usual waywhen booster shot record reaches fifty per-cent total population Daylon."

Joe Morgan, before going up lo thenews room, went into the room offthe lobby of the News Buildingwhere Sadie Barnum and two other

girls handled many details includingthe taking of classified advertising.

He didn,t see Sadie. Julie, the

redhead, winked over the shoulder of

a man laboriously*

writing out anad.. Joe leaned against the wall untilthe man had paid and gone.

"Where,s my gal ?" Joe asked."Which one. I,m here

, Joey.""

You,re for Thursdays. I want

today,s- gal, the ineffable. MissBarntim."

"She hit Glance for an extra hourtacked onto her lunch hour. Lovemust wail."

Joe turned toward the door. "Tellher to buzz me when she gets in.

"

He went up winked at the cityeditor, walked down to his desk

,

rolled a sheet of paper into the ma-chine and stared glumly at it. Smallwarning bells seemed to be ringingin the back of his mind. He was allset to write the story of the secondbig period of depression, of whathappened to Daylon when twenty-two thousand of the adjusted had asimultaneous slump, but he couldn"

t

get his mind off Sadie. She hadbeen a bit difficult about his refusal

to be adjusted the night before.On a hunch he hurried out,

climbed into his asthmatic car and

roared to Caroline Street. He parkedin the bus stop, went down the linelooking for Sadie. When he did notsee her, he began lo breathe moreslowly. He had a hunch that itwould somehow turn out to be a verybad thing if Sadie were inoculated.

He was glad that he had beenwrong.

"

He glanced back al his car,saw the cop writing out a ticket. Ashe turned to hurry back, he saw

TROJAN JIORSE LAUGH81

Sadie come out the exit door of Hap-piness, Incorporated.

Muttering, he* ran to her, took holdof her arm, spinning her around.

"Hey, my vaccination!" she said,looking up at him with a wide smile.

"You little dope!" he said. "Youfeather-headed little female cretin!What on earth possessed you to jointhis rat race."

She didn,t seem disturbed. "Some-

body had to take the first step,Joseph, and it didn,t look as thoughyou would. So I had to. Nowyou

,ll do it too, won,t you, darlin,?"He saw that her smile was brave,

but that there were tears behind it."No," he said flatly. "I stay like Iam. I suppose you sneaked off andhad your cycle charted last week?"

She nodded. "But, Joe, there isn,tany harm in it! It,s been so won-

derful for everybody. Please, Joe."He took her by the shoulders and

shook her. "Oh, wonderful! It,sbeen ducky! You should know that-

" lie stopped suddenly as some ofthe information in the back of his

mind assumed new meaning, newominous meaning. I Ie turned on hisheel and walked away from her. Shecalled out to him but he didn'

t stop.He climbed into his car, drovethrough the grim streets of unsmilingpeople.

Score for Daylon. May-5,900.June-14,100. July-22,000. August-31,000. September-50,200.

Over half the population of thecity.

The period of intense joy in Sep-82

tember has been a time of dancing inthe street, of song, of an incrediblegaiety almost too frantic to be en-dured.

And the slump touched the bitterdepths of despair.

Slowly the city climbs back up intothe sunlight. The slumped shouldersbegin to straighten and the expres-sions of bleak apathy lighten oncemore. The road leads up into thesunlight.

And then the building is as it wasbefore. The big sign, "HAPPI-NESS, INCORPORATED" hasbeen taken down. People gather inthe street and stare moodily at it.They are the ones who were going tobe adjusted "tomorrow".

They have read the article in thepaper by Dr. Lewsto. "I wish to

thank the citizens of Daylon whohave co-operated so splendidly inhelping us advance the frontiers ofhuman knowledge in the realm of theemotions. It is with more than a

trace of sadness that I and my staffleave Daylon to set up a similarproject in another great Americancity. But we leave, armed with thestatistics we have acquired here, con-fident in the knowledge that, throughour efforts, more than half of youhave at last attained that ultimate

shining goal of mankind-HAPPI-NESS!"

Yes, the building is empty and the

line has ceased to worm slowly to-ward the open doors. Two tech-nicians remain in a hotel suite to ad-minister the booster shots yet re-maining to be given.


Joe Morgan spends five days withSadie, watching her sink lower andlower into despondency, tryingvainly to cheer her, infected himselfby her apathy, learning to think ofher as a stranger.

He walks into the office where she

works. She gives him a tremuloussmile. She has a fragile look, a con-valescent look.

"Iloney," he said, "it,s nice to seethat you can smile.

"

"But it,s worth it, Joe. Believeme. Look what I have ahead of me.

Twenty-five days without a blue mo-ment, without a sad thought, with-out a bit of worry."

"Sure, sure," he said, his voicerough.

"

It,s lovely."She said : "Joe, I,ve l>een thinking.

TROJAN IlORSJi LAUGH AST-4J 83

There's no point to our going on to-gether. I want somebody I canlaugh with, be gay with for the claysahead."-.

He was amazed at the deep senseof relief inside of him. He pre-tended hurt. He said : "If that,s the

way you feel about it-"

"I'm awfully sorry, Joe. But Idon,t want the slightest cloud on myhappiness now that I,ve got it. Notthe tiniest cloud. You do see, don'

t

you ?""It hasn,t been the same since this

whole thing came to town, this grincircus, has it?"

"Not really, Joe. Before I was . . .well, I was just walking in the shad-ows. Now I'm out in the sun, Joe.Now I know how to be happy."

Her hand was small and warm inhis. "Be good, kid," he said softly.

He went up to his dcsk; The cityeditor had blue-pcncilcd a huge Xacross the copy Joe had turned in.Joe snatched the sheet, went up tohim, "Look, Johnson, this is news.Understand? En ee doubleyou ess.What cooks ?"

Johnson touched his fingertipslightly to the bronze button in hislapel, smiled faintly. "I don,t thinkit would be good for the city. Nicejob and all that, Morgan. But it'sagainst policy.

"

"Whose policy?""The managing editor's. I showed

it to him."

Joe said firmly and slowly, withemphasis orr each word:

"Either it

goes in the paper or Morgan goesout the door."

"There,s the door, Morgan."

Joe went back to his room, rage inhis heart. He uncovered his own

typewriter, rewrote his copy in dis-patch style, made five carbons, ad-dressed the envelope and sent themout special delivery.

And when that was done, in thelate afternoon

, he found a small barwith bar stools

, took a corner seat,his shoulder against the wall, begantreating himself to respectable joltsof rye.

No girl, no job-and a fear in theback of his mind so vast and so

shadowy as to make his skin crawlwhenever he skirted the edge of it.

Business was poor in. the bar.

He remembered happier, more nor-mal tiities

, when every day at fivethere was a respectable gathering oft he quick - one - and - home - to - dinnergroup.

A sleepy bartender wearing a my-opic smile lazily polished the glassesand sighed ponderously from time totime. He moved only when Joeraised his finger as a signal for an-other.

The bar had achieved an achingsurrealistic quality and Joe,s lipswere numb when she slid up ontothe stool beside him.

He focused on her gravely. "Ithought you left town with the restof the happy boys," he said.

Alice Pardette said: "I was walk-

ing by." She stared at his shotglass."Would those help me?"

"What,ve you got?""The horrors, Mr. Morgan.""The name is Joe and if a few of

84 ASTOUNDING SO I E N C K - FI Of 10 N

these won,t help, nothing will. Whyarc you still in town?"

As the bartender poured the twoshots she said: "When I finished

the statistical job, Dr. Lewsto saidI could go along with them in an ad-ministrative capacity.

"

"And why didn,t you?"The professional look had l>egun

to wear off Alice Pardette. Joe no-ticed that her dark eyebrows in-scribed two very lovely arcs, lienoticed a hollowness at her tetnplcsand wondered why this particularand illusive little clement of allure

had thus far escaped him. He wantedto plant a very gentle kiss on thenearest temple.

"

Joe, they wanted to adjust me.""

I hear it,s very nice. Makes youhappy, you know."

"Joe, maybe I,m afraid of thatkind of happiness." She finishedher shot, gasped, coughed, looked athim with dark brimming eyes."Hey," she said, "you didn,t go andget-

"

"Not Morgan. No ma'am. Uhuh. All that happened to me is thatmy girl got herself adjusted andgave me up for the duration. Andtoday I was fired because I had anarticle they wouldn

,t print. Oh, I,

ve

been adjusted, but not with aneedle."

She giggled. "Hey, these little .

things arc warm when you get themdown. Gimme another. What wasthe article about, Joe?"

"Suicides," he said solemnly."People gunning holes in their headsand leaping out windows and hang-

ing themselves to the high hook inthe closet wearing their neckties thewrong way.

"

"Don,t they always do that?""In the five days of depression,

baby, fourteen of them joined theirancestors. That is more in five daysthan this old town has seen in the

last seventeen months."He watched the statistical mind

take over, "Hm-m-m," she said."And 'hm-m-m' again,

" Joe said."

As far as ethical responsibility isconcerned, who knocked ,em off?

Answer me that.""Olc Doc Lewsto, natch.""Please don,t use that expression,

Pard. And who helped ole Doc bycompiling all those pretty figures?Who but our girl, Alice? Wannastand trial, kitten?"

She looked at him for long sec-onds. "Joe Morgan, you better buyme another drink."

lie said: "I mailed out releases to

a batch of syndicates. Maybe some-body'll print the stuff I dug up."

v

IV.

FROM DELANCEY BOOKER,S COL-UMN IK THE WASHINGTON

MORNING SENTINEL: Happiness,

Incorporated, is expanding their opera-tions at an amazing speed. It is only aweek since their Washington Agcncy wasestablished and already it is reported thatover seven thousand of our fellow citi-zens have reported to have profiles madeof their emotional cycles. As usual withevery move intended to appravc the lot ofthe common man

, several Congressmenwho represent the worst elements oi iso-lationism and conservatism are attempting

TROJAN IIORSE LAUGH 85

to jam through a bill designed to ham-string Happiness, Incorporated. Thesegentlemen who look at lite through a per-petual peashooter are trying to stir uppublic alarm on the basis that the pro-cedures used by Happiness, Incorporated

,

have not been properly tested. They willfind the going difficult, however, bccausc,though they do not know it, some of theirenemies in Congress have already received

the initial inoculation. Your columnistsaw them there while having his own

cycle plotted.

EXCERPT FROM THE INFORMALTALK GIVEN TO ALL EXECU-TIVES OF THE HEATON STEELCOMPANY BY THE CHAIRMANOF THE BOARD : "Using our DaylonPlant as a test, it has been conclusivelyproven that Happiness, Incorporated, isthe answer to industrial unrest, high taxesand dwindling profit. Consequently youwill be glad to know that, starting tomor-row morning, we have made special ar-rangements with Happiness, Incorporated,to set up an inoculation center in everyone of our fourteen plants. Within fortydays the entire hundred and sixteen thou-sand employees of Heaton Steel will behappy and adjusted. This procedure willbe optional for executives. Any man whorefuses to be so treated will please rise.

"

NOTE ON BULLETIN BOARD AT

PAKINSON FIELD. HEADQUAR-TERS OF THE 28th BOMBARD-

MENT GROUP: "All personnel is ad-vised that

, beginning tomorrow, 18 Sept.,Bldg. 83 will be set aside for civilian em-ployees of Happiness, Incorporated. Anymilitary personnel desirous of undergoingadjustment can obtain, for a spccial priceof five dollars

, a card entitling him or herto rcccivc a complete emotional adjust-ment styled to fit the optimum curve. Inthis matter you will notice that the AirCorps has once again moved with greater..apidity than either the Army or theNavy-2nd Lt. Albert Anderson Daley,Post Exchange Officer."

MEMO TO ALL MEMBER STA-TIONS

. INTERCOAST BROAD-CASTING COMPANY: In the spotcommercials previously contracted for,

kindly revise lyric to read as follows, util-izing local talent until new disks can becut:

Divert your psycheRepair your Id

Join the crowd andAdjust yourself, kid.

.

Remainder to be, "Go to your nearest ad-

justment station set up in your communityby Happiness, Incorporated. Sec thosehappy smiles? Do not wait . . . ct cetera.. . et cetera . .. ct cetera.

FROM THE SCRIPT OF THECAROLAX PROGRAM

, FEATURINGBUNNY JUKES AND HIS GANG:Bunny: , . . yeah, and fellas. I went in andthey fastened those gimmicks on my headand they started plotting my cyrle.

Others: And what happened. Bunny?Bunny.: While they were working thisdolly walked through the office and boy,

do I mean dolly ! My tired old eyes glazedwhen she gave me that Carolax smile

,

what I mean.

Stooge: And what then? (eagerly)Benny: The doc looks down at the drumwhere the pen is drawing my cycle and hesays, *Mr. Jukes, you arc the first patientin the history of Happiness, Incorporated,whose cycle forms the word-WOW 1Audience: Laughter.

Daylon in transition. For twentydays the spiral lias been upward.

To-

morrow it will reach a peak. There

is laughter in the streets and peoplesing.

The city has a new motto. TheOriginal Home of Happiness. Thecity is proud of being the first oneselected.

Everyone walks about with a lookof secret glee, as though barcl}' able

86 ASTOUNDING SCIKNCF.-FICTION

to contain themselves with the

thought of the epic joy that the mor-row will bring.

And those that have not been ad-

justed find that they, too, are caughtup in the holiday spirit, in the air ofimpending revel. Strangers grin ateach other and whole buses

, home-ward bound from work

, ring withsong as everyone joins in. Oldsongs. "Let a Smile be Your Um-brella"

, "Singing in the Rain",

"Smiles", "Smile the While".Joe Morgan and Alice Pardcttc

have grown very close in the pasttwenty days. To him it is a new re-lationship-a woman who can thinkas frankly and honestly as any man,

who has about her none of the usualfeminine deviousncss

, though physi-cally she is so completely feminine asto make his pulse pound.

And Alice, too, finds something in

Joe she has never before experienced.

A man willing to take her at facevalue

, a man who does not try toforce their relationship into channelsof undesired intimacies

, a man wholistens to what she says and whowill argue, person to person, ratherthan man to woman.

Dusk is over the city and the buzz-ing neon lights up the overcast inhue of pink-orange. The old car isparked where often he parked withSadie Barnum. He wonders whatSadie is doing. They look out overthe city and they arc not at ease.

"Joe," she said suddenly, "don'tyou feel it when you

,re down therewith them?"

"You mean feel as though I wantto go around grinning like an idiot,too? Yes, and it scares me, some-

how. I knew a few other guys whodidn,t want to have anything to dowith being adjusted. Now they,

re

as bad as the ones who had the shots.

That good cheer is like a big fuzzycloud hanging over the city."

"And it"s worse than last time,

isn't it, Joe?" she asked softly.He nodded. "Worse in a funny

way. It,

s sort of like the city was abig machine and now the governoris broken and it,s moving too fast.It,s creaking its way up and up andup to where maybe it,ll spin apart."

She said : "Or like a boat that was

going over gentle regular waves andnow the waves are getting biggerand bigger."

He turned and grinned at her."You J<now, we can scare each otherinto a tizzy."

Alice didn*t respond to his grin.She said in a remote voice: "Tomor-

row is going to be . . . odd. I feel it.Joe, let,s stay together tomorrow.Please."

She rested her hand on his wrist.

Suddenly she was in his arms.Fpr the first time.

Thirty seconds later Joe said un-steadily, "For a statistician you-"

"I guess you,d better make a jokeof it, Joe. I guess maybe it's the

only thing you can do, Joe. I guess. . . it wasn't ever this way before."

Like a slow rocket rising fortwenty days, bursting into a bright

TROJAN IIORSE LAUGII 87

banner of flame on the twenty-firstday.

Joe walked out of his apartmentinto the street, turned and slaredincredulously at an elderly man who,laughing so hard that he w,ept, heldhimself up by clinging to a lamp-post.The impossible laughter was con-tagious, even as it frightened. Joefelt laughter stretching his lips,painting itself across his mouth.

At that moment he dodged aside,barely in time. A heavy convert-ible

, a woman with tears of laughterstreaming down her cheeks behindthe wheel, bounced up over the curb.The old gentleman, still laughing,was cradled neatly on the bumper,was. carried over and crushed againstthe gray stone front of the apartmentbuilding.

Blood ran in a heavy slow currentdown the slope of the sidewalk to-ward the gutter. The crowd gath-ered quickly. For just a fleetingsecond they were solemn and thensomeone giggled and they were off.They howled with laughter andpounded each other

,s shoulders and

staggered in their laughter so thatthe blood was tracked in waveredlines back and forth.

Joe fought free of them, and, evenwith the horror in his mind, liewalked rapidly down the street, hislips pulled back in a wide grin, lie-hind him he could hear the woman,

between great shouts of laughter ex-plaining, "I ... I got laughing andthe car ... it came over here . . .

and he was standing there and he. . .

and he-" She couldn,t go on

and her voice was drowned by thesinging and laughing around her.

They were singing, "For He,s aJolly Good Fellow."

The counterman where Joe usu-ally had breakfast had just finishedprinting a large crude sign. "Every-thing on the house. What will youhave ?"

The girl next to Joe yelped andgrabbed his arm, laughed into hisface and said : "Tell,m I want gin."

The man beyond the girl, holdinghis belly, wavered to the door,whooping with laughter. lie kickedthe front window out of the nearbyliquor store, came back with the gin.

The girl ripped the top off, liftedthe bottle and drank heavily. Morebottles were passed around. Theliquor store man came in with anarmful.

As Joe tried vainly to order hiseggs, the girl, gin heavy on herbreath, ran warm fingers up the backof Joe

,s neck and, breathing rapidly,

said : "Honeylamb, I don,t know whoyou are, but you

"

re cute as a bug.Who can work on a happy day likethis ? Come on along with me,huh?"

Joe, still feeling that infuriating

smile on his lips, stared at her. Shehad a very respectable look abouther, and she was well-dressed.

Joe meant to say, "No thanks."He heard himself saying eagerly,"Sure. That sounds fine."

They went arm in arm along thestreet and she stopped every tenpaces to take another swig out ofthe bottle. Two blocks further she

88 ASTOUN,DINT. SCIF.NCE-FICTIOM

gave a little sigh, slipped down ontothe sidewalk, rolled over onto herback and passed out. She had awarm smile on her lips.

Joe stood over her, laughing emp-tily, until a whole crowd of people,arm in arm

, swept down, on him,pushing him along with them. Hesaw a heavy heel tear open the mouthof the girl on the sidewalk, but Joecouldn"

t stop laughing.lie went down Main Street and it

was a delirium of laughter and songand the crash and tinkle of plateglass, the crunch of automobile acci-dents.

There was an enormous scream of

laughter, getting closer every mo-ment, and a large woman fell from agreat height onto the sidewalk, burst-ing like a ripe fruit. Joe grew dizzywith laughter. The crowd who hadcaught him up passed by and JoeMorgan leaned against a building,tears running down his face, his bellycramped and sore from the laughter,but still horror held tightly to hismind with cold fingers.

Through brimming eyes he sawthe street turn into a scene of wild,

bacchanalian revel where peoplewithout fear, without shame, withoutmodesty, with nothing left but lustand laughter, cavorted, more thanhalf mad with the excesses of their

glee.Slowly he made his way to the

News Building. In the lobby he sawSadie Barnum with a stranger. Hesaw how eager her lips were andshe turned glazed eyes toward Joe

and laughed and turned back to theman.

And then he stumbled out, bump-ing into an old man he had seen inthe bank. The old man, with anendless dry chuckle, walked slowlywearing a postman,s mailbag. Thebag was crammed full of bills of alldenominations. He cackled into

Joe,s face, stuffed a handful of billsinto Joe's side pocket, went on downthe street, throwing handfuls into theair. The wind whipped them aboutand they landed on the sidewalkwhere they were trampled by peoplewho had no inclination to pick them"P.

A fat grinning man sat in the win-dow of the jewelry store, cross-legged, throwing rings out onto thesidewalk through the shattered win-dow.

"

Happy New Year!" he yelled asJoe went by.

And then a woman had come from

somewhere and she clung to Joe'

s

neck with moist hands and her eyeswere wide and glassy.

Her weight knocked Joe down.He got to his feet and she lay thereand laughed up

,, at him. Joe looked

across the street to where a burlyman strode along dragging anotherwoman by the wrist. A small coldportion of Joe,s mind told him,"There is Alice. That is Alice. You

have to do something."He ÿan !>etwcen the spasms of

helpless laughter and at last he spunthe big man around. lie wanted tohit him, but instead he collapsed

TROJAN IIORSE L AU GII 89

against him and they both howledwith insane glee.

Alice sat on the sidewalk, the tearsdripping off her chin, her mouthspread in a fantastic smile. Hepicked her up, held her tightly, stag-gered off with her. She kept tryingto kiss him.

He knew that he had to get herout of there, and soon.

Twice she was taken away fromhim by men who roared with joyand twice lie staggered back, gothold of her again.

A crowd of men were going downthe street, tipping over every car,having the time of their lives. Agrinning cop watched them. One ofthe men took out a gun, pointed it atthe cop and emptied it. The cop satdown on the street and laughed andhugged his perforated belly until hedied.

Two men stood playing RussianRoulette. They passed the gun backand forth and each man spun thechamber before sucking on the bar-rel, pulling the trigger.

As Joe staggered by, clutchingAlice, the gun went off, spatteringthem both with tiny flecks of braintissue from the exploded skull. Theman lurched into them, yelled,"Wanna play? Come-on, play withme!"

"Play his game, Joe," Alicesquealed.

But Joe, spurred by his hiddenstore of horror, pulled her along, gother to the car. He shoved her in,

climbed behind the wheel, got themotor started.

90 ASTOUNDING SCI F. N CE-FICTION

In the first block a woman tried to

rani him. lie slatnmed on thebrakes. She went across his bows,

smashed two people on the sidewalkand crashed through the main win-dow of a supermarket.

Joe, with Alice gasping helplesslybeside him, went three blocks north,turned onto Wilson Avenue andheaded out of town. His eyesstreamed so that lie coukl barely see.

Ten miles from Day Ion he turnedup a dirt road, parked in a wide shal-low ditch, pulled Alice out of thecar, hauled her up across a sloping

field to where a wide grassy bankcaught the morning sunshine.

They lay side by side and thegasps of laughter came with less andless frequency. Alice, her eyes tor-tured, pulled herself to her feet, wentover behind the shelter of a line ofbrush and he could hear that she was

being very ill. In a few momentsthe reaction hit him. He was ill,

too.

They found a brook at the foot ofthe field and cleaned up. Theirclothes were smeared with dots ofblood from the city.

Back on the grassy bank sherolled onto her stomach, cradled herhead in her arms and cried monoto-

nously while he gently stroked herdark .hair.

Finally she got control of herself.She sat up and he gave her a lightedcigarette.

She said: "I'll never be without

the memory of those hours, Joe.Never."

TROJAN -IIORSE LAUGH

He thought of the scenes, stillvivid in his mind. "Do you thinkyou

,re different?"

"Thank God, Joe, that you found

me when you did. Thank God thatyou kept hold of a little bit of sanity!There was a cdkl objective placedown in me and I could see every-thing around me and I knew thehorror of it, but I couldn,t stop join-ing in."

"

Me, too. My mouth,s sore fromlaughing. And my sides."

Because it had to be talked out, be-

cause it couldn,

t be permitted to stayinside to fester

, they told of whatthey had seen, leaving much unsaid,

but nothing misunderstood.He told her about Sadie Barnum

and her eyes were soft with pity.After a long silence he said:

"What can we do?""

That,s the question, isn,t it? Iwon

't let you go back, Joe.""What could I do if I went back?

Pick the money off the streets ?"He remembered the old man with

the mail bag. lie took the crumpledbills out of his pocket. Seven hun-dreds, three fifties and four ones

.

Iler fingers were tight on his arm.

"Joe, we,

ve got to let the rest of thecountry know what happens."

He shrugged. "They wouldn'teven print my dispatches. Whyshould they listen to me now?"

"

But we can't just sit here 1 Thinkof the children back in the city, Joe.Can't we . . . save any of them ?"

"Let me think," he said. "Let me

think of some way we could keep91

from getting infcctccl by that.. . thatinsanity back there."

She said softly: "Suppose yoncouldn,t hear all that . . . that laugh-ing around you?"

He jumped up and snapped hisfingers. "I,ll bet that's part of it.Not all of it, because deaf men joinlynch mobs. But some of it. If youcouldn>t sec and couldn,t hear, you,dstill sense the excitement around

you and some of it would still get toyou. You need something to takeyour mind off it, like in the old dayswhen they bit on bullets, you know,for operations."

"Like a toothache,

" she said."I,

m going to try it, kitten," JoeMorgan said. "With my ears stuffedup with cloth and with my pet fillingremoved and a pebble in tlie socketwhere I can bite down on it. I have

to see what,s going on down there.""And I go with you, Joe. I won,t

stay here alone and I can help and ifit should start to get you, darling, I'llbe there to . to help you."

V.

Joe Morgan, his crooked grinloosely in place, and Alice Pardette,

pale and shaking with the white hor-ror of what they had seen in thestreets, stood in the almost desertedtelephone building.

"You sure you can run one ofthose long distance switchboards ?"

"I did that work for over a year.Come on."

Her fingers were quick with theplugs. He said :

"Get the state capi-

92

tol. See if you can land the governorhimself."

She talked into the mouthpiece,her tone flat and insistent. At last

she motioned to him. He picked upthe phone off the nearby desk.

A warm, hearty voice said : "Gud-lou speaking. Who did you say thisis?"

"Governor, this is Joseph Morganspeaking from Daylon. I want tomake an immediate appeal, for help.Call out the National Guard. Getmen here. Men and ambulances and

tear gas. The town has gone crazy.""Is this some sort of a joke?""Check with the phone company

and the telegraph people. Try to getour local station on your radio, sir.Believe me, this is a terrible messhere."

"But I don't understand! What

has happened there?""This Happiness, Incorporated,

thing, sir."The govenror laughed heartily.

"Very clever publicity stunt, Mor-gan, or whatever your name is.Sorry, my boy, but we can,t use theNational Guard to promote yourproduct, even if I do have an appoint-ment for my first shot.

"

"Look, sir, send over a plane. Get

pictures-"

lint the line was dead. Joe sighedheavily. "Didn't work, angel. Seeif you can get me the President."

But after two hours of fightingtheir way up. through the ranks ofincredulous underlings, they wereforccd to give up. The world wouldknow soon enough. With the trains


hailed, Ihiscs and trucks stalled in thecity, all communications cut, theworld will begin to wake up andwonder what had happened to Day-Ion.

One day of madness, and another,and another, and another. Thestreets resound with hoots of hoarse

laughter. Bodies lie untended. It isdiscovered that detachments sent in

to help fall under the general spell.News planes circle overhead by dayand all roads leading to town arejammed with the cars of the curious,

those who come to watch. Many ofthem get too close, stay to revel andto die.

The power plants have failed andat night the city is lighted by firesthat burn whole blocks. .

The laughter and the madness goon.

Throughout I he nation the variousclinics set up by Happiness, Incorpo-rated

, cut the fees and go on-

twenty-four hour operation. The spokes-men for Happiness, Incorporated,say that the riots in Daylon are dueto an organized group attempting todiscredit the entire program.

And at the end of the fifth day thelaughter slops as though cut with avast knife.

*

Jot* Morgan, unshaven and palewith fatigue, drove the last busloadof screaming children out of Daylon.With the money he and Alice hadtaken on that first day, nearly twomillion dollars of cash, they had set

up emergency headquarters in Law-per, a fair-sized village seventeenmiles from Daylon. Renting space,

hiring a large corps of assistants,they had managed to evacuate nearlythirty-six hundred children, lendtheir wounds, feed them and housethem.

Organized agencies were begin-ning to take some of the administra-tive burden off their hands.

Alice, looking pounds thinner,

stood by him as the attendants tookthe children o!T for medical process-ing.

"What was it like, Joe?" sheasked.

"The whole city has a stink ofdeath. And the laughler has stopped.It,s quiet now. I saw some of themsitting on the curb, their faces inthcirhands. I think it

,s going to getworse.

"

VI.

NEWS BULLETIN. 6 P.M., OCT. 3rd:"First in the news tonight is, as usual, thecity of Daylon. The stupendous wave ofsuicides is now over and the city is lick-ing its wounds. Those wounds, by theway. are impressive. Twenty-one hundredknown dead. Four thousand seriously in-jured. Fifteen hundred missing, believeddead. Property damage is estimated atsixty millions, one third of the city

,

s total

assessed valuation. T<xlay the Congres-sional Investigating Committee arrived atDaylon, accompanicd by some of the na-tion,s outstanding reporters of the news.The courage with which the good jnropleof Daylon are going about the repair oftheir city is heartwarming. Psychologistscall this a perfect example of mass hys-teria, and the cause is not yet explained."

TROJAN HORSE LAUGH 93

FROM THE DETROIT CITIZEN

BAN NEK. OCT. 7th: "Judge Fawlkontoday refused to allow an injunctionagainst the three local clinics of Happi-ness. Incorporated. brought by the De-troit Mcdical Association who state thatthe Daylon disaster may have its roots inthe inoculations given iti that city, used asa test locale by Happiness. Incorporated.Judge Fawlkon stated that, in his con-sidered judgment, there was no logicalreason to link these two suppositions.Court was adjourned early so that thejudge could keep his appointment at thenearest clinic of 1 lappincss, Incorpo-rated."

FROM THE BUNNY JUKES PRO-GRAM:

Stooge: Hey. Bunny. I understand thatyou

*ve got the lowdown on what hap-pened over there in Daylon.Bunny: Don,t tell anybody, but Daylonwas the first place where the new incometax blanks were distributed.

Audience: Laughter.

EDITORIAL IN THE DAYLONNEWS: "The attitude of the courts inmakjng no effort to prosecute citizens ofDaylon who unknowingly committedcrimes during the recent Death Week isan intelligent facing of the facts. How-ever

, this paper feels that no such specialdispensation should be made in the case ofthe codefendants Joseph Morgan, one-timereporter on this newspaper, and Alice Par-dcttc, one-time employee of Happiness. In-corporated. It has been proven and ad-mitted that the codefcndants were able toresist the inexplicable hysteria and didknowingly enter the city and make awaywith close to two million dollars in cash.The fact that a portion of this money wasused to evacuate children is mildly ex-tenuating. but. since the codefendants werecapturcd by police before they had fulfilledtheir expressed "intent, to return thebalance of the funds, their position is feebleindeed. Other organizations were pre-pared to aid the children of this city. It

is hoped that Joseph Morgan and AlicePardette, when their case comes to trial,will be punished to the full extent of thelaw

, as their crime is indeed despicable."

EXCERPT FROM TOP SECRETMEETING IN THE PENTAGON.GENERAL OF THE ARMIES I.OEF-STEDTER PRESIDING: "To sum-marize, a key utility, the X Plant, hasbeen almost totally destroyed in the Day-lon hysteria. We believe that the riotwas fomented by enemies of this nation forthe express purpose of destroying theplant. The report of the Committee onthe Establishment of Alternate Facilitieswill be ready at next month

,

s meeting atwhich time decisions can lie made and con-tracting officers appointed. As the fin-ished products in storage at the X Plantwere also destroyed by fire, our situationis grave. Head of Field Service will im-mediately suspend all tests at the ProvingGround and assembled items in the handsof troops will be strictly rationed.

"

The fat guard said: "I shouldn*tdo this, you know."

Joe said: "Sure, I know. But wejust happened to keep your kid frombeing burned to death and you wantto make it up to us."

"Yeah,

" the guard said. "Youwait in here. I'll go get her."

Joe waited five minutes beforeAlice was brought into the smallroom. She was wan and colorless,

dressed in a gray cotton prison dress.She gave Joe one incredulous lookand then ran to him. He felt herthin shoulders shake as he held her

tightly."Hey, they can,t put you in here!"

he said softly, was rewarded by herweak smile. He winked over her

shoulder at the guard. "Wait in the

hall, junior."


The guard shrugged, left themalone in the room.

Alice said: "Why are they doingthis to us ?"

"They,ve got to be sore at some-

body, you know. They've got to takea smack at something. Only theyaren

,

t taking it at the right people,that,s all. Besides, we've got noth-ing to fret about."

She regained her old fire. "Justwhat do you mean, Joe Morgan?"

He grinned. "When docs our casecome up for trial ?"ÿ "November 10th they said,"

Alice said, her head cocked on oneside.

"And before that we walk out of

here during the next little attack of"hysteria'."

"Oh, JoeM" she said. "It isn,t go-ing to happen again ! Not again 1"

"The way I see it, baby, it,s goingto keep right on happening. So getthe carmuffs ready."

"Keys, Joe!" she said in a halfwhisper.

"Leave that to me."

Once again the spring is woundtaut in Daylon. Once again the joycomes bubbling up, the joy and theanticipation. There is no more-mourning for the dead. The streetsare festive. The October days arccrisp and cool. Many have suddenlittle twinges of fear, but the fear isforgotten in the heady Hood of antici-pation of delights to come.

Two dozen cities have passed thefifty percent mark. Among themare Detroit, Chicago, New Orleans,

TROJAN IIORSE LAUGH

San Francisco, Philadelphia, Pitts-

burgh, Boston, Buffalo, Los Angeles,Houston, Portland

, Seattle, Cleve-land

, Cincinnati, Atlanta-and tenother big cities. A round threedozen smaller cities are above fortypercent.

And then all of the clinics arcsuddenly closed. Millions arc in-furiated at missing their chance.

But the clinic personnel all showup in New York City. Mobile units

are established and the price ofinoculation is cut to fifty cents.

New

methods speed tip the work. The

clinics work day and night.All over the country happiness

grows constantly more intense. Itcan be felt everywhere. Man, for atime, is good to his neighbor and tohis wife.

All over the country the vastspring is wound tighter and tighter.

At the eleventh hour the originalpersonnel of all the clinics, and theyare a surprisingly small number,

board a steamship at a Brooklyndock. Reservations have been madeweeks in advance.

On the morning of explosion, theship is two hundred miles at sea.

And fifty-one percent of the popu-lation of Greater New York havebeen inoculated.

A famed public document speaksof "the pursuit of happiness."

It has been pursued and it hasbeen at last captured, a silver shininggrail, throughout the ages always amisty distance ahead, but now atlast, in hand. It is a grr.il of silver,

95

but it is filled with a surprising bit-terness.

On the morning of explosion,every channel of communication,every form of public conveyance, alllines of supply arc severed so cleanlythat they might never have existed.

An air lines pilot, his plane loadedwith a jumbled heap of gasping andspasmed humanity, makes pass afierpass at the very tip of the EmpireState Building until at last the radiotower rakes off one wing and theplane goes twisting down to thechasm of the street.

On a hollywood sound stage ahysterical cameraman, aiming hislens at the vista of script girls andsound men and actresses and agentstakes reel after reel of film which

could not have been duplicated hadhe been transported back to some ofthe revels of ancient Rome.

In New Mexico screaming tech-nicians shove a convulsed and world-famous scientist into the instrument

compartment of a V-2 rocket andproject him into a quick death ninetymiles above the clouds.

In Houston a technician, bottlefirmly clutched in his left hand,opens the valves of tank after tank ofgasoline.

lie is smiling as the blue-whiteexplosion of flame melts the bottlein a fraction of a second.

When he opened the door to hercell, Alice had a taut, mechanicalsmile on her lips. lie slapped hersharply until she stopped smiling.96

He carried two guns taken from thehelpless guards who rolled on thefloor in the extremity of their glee atthis ludicrous picture of two pris-oners escaping.

He found a big new car with afull tank of gas a block from thejail. Together they loaded it withprovisions, with rifles and cartridges,with camping equipment. And, fivemiles from the city he was forced tostop the car.

It was twenty minutes before liecould stop trembling sufficiently todrive. Me told her of his plans, andof what he expected and about theirdestination.*

At dusk he drove down to the lake

shore, the tall grasses scraping thebottom of the car. There were kero-

sene lamps in the small camp, a drumof kerosene iu the shed back of thekitchen.

The last of the sunset glow wasgone from the lake. The birds madea sleepy noise in the pines. The airwas sweet and fresh.

While Alice worked in the kitchen,lie went out and tried the car radio.

l ie heard nothing but an empty hum.His heart thudded as he found onestation. He listened, lie heard the

dim jungle-sound of laughter, of thesort of laughter that floods the eyesand cramps the stomach and raspsthe throat. With a shudder of dis-

gust, Joe turned oft'

the radio.

They finished the meal in odd si-lence. He pushed his plate away andlit two cigarettes, passed one to her

"Not exactly cheery, are we?" shesaid.


"Not with our world laughing it-self to death."

She hunched her shoulders. "To

death ?"He nodded. "Lewsto was a

phony. He knew what would hap-pen, ypu know. He had a plan. Hewas under orders."

"Whose?""How should I know ? The coun-

try is laughing itself to death.They"ll wait, whoever they arc.They"ll wait for the full five days ofhysteria and the first few days ofmass suicide-and then they

,ll move

in. Maybe there,ll be enough of usleft to make an honest little scrapof it."

"But why, Joe? Why does itwork that way?"

"You ever hear of resonance?""Like a sound?""The word covers more than that,

Alice. It covers coffee sloshing outof a cup when you walk with it, orsoldiers breaking step crossing abridge. Daylon and the other citieswere fine when everybody had theirown pattern. But now all the pat-terns are on the same groove.Everybody is in step. Everybodyadds to everybody else

,s gaiety and .it builds up and up to a peak thatbreaks men apart, in their heads.Pure resonance. The same with the

depression. Ever hear one of thoserecords with nothing but laughteron them. Why

,d you laugh? Youcouldn't help it. The laughterpicked you up and carried you along.Or did you ever see people cryingand you didn

,t know the reason and

TROJAN HORSE LAUGII

you felt your eyes sting? Samedeal."

"

What,s the answer, Joe?""

Is there any? Is there any an-swer at all ? We had the best shipsand the best planes and the bestbombs and the biggest guns. Butwe

're laughing ourselves out ofthem."

He stood up abruptly, grabbedhis jacket off the hook and went outonlo the long porch of the campoverlooking the dark lake. Porchand lake that were a part of his child-hood, and now a part of his defeat.

There was only a faint trace ofirony left in him. He grieved forhis nation and he felt the helplessstir of anger at this thing which hadbeen so skillfully done, so carefullydone, so adequately done.

She came out and stood beside

him and he put his arm around herwaist.

"Don,t leave me, Joe," she whis-

pered. "Not for a minute."

His voice hoarse, he took the mas-sive seal ring off his finger, slippedit over hers

, saying, "With this ringI thee wed. Fugitives get cheatedout of the pageantry, angel."

She shivered against the night,said: "Dandy proposal. I,m wear-ing the ring before I can open mymouth to say no."

"Then give it back.""

A valuable ring like this! Don,tbe silly."

He laughed softly. She movedaway from him. Her face was paleagainst the darkness.

"Please don't

97

laugh, Joe. liver. I never want tohear laughter again."

Her hands were like ice and her

lips were tender flame.

VII.

FOURTH BULLETIN* OF THE PRO-VISIONAL GOVERNMENT, NOV.12: "Remnants of the 11th and 14th ArmyCorps, fighting without air cover, todaybent the left prong of the pinccr move-ment of the two enemy columns converg-ing on the provisional capital at Herkimer.Idaho. In spite of determined resistance,eventual capture of the provisional capitalseems imminent. All troops and irregu-lars isolated by enemy columns will en-deavor to make their way through enemylines to bolster our position. Live off theland. Conserve ammunition. Make eachshot mean the death of an invader. All

troops and irregulars who did not undergoadjustment under the auspices of the in-vader*

s Trojan Horse, miscalled Happi-ness. Incorporated, will be careful to stayaway from the cities. All commandcrswill discover which men under their com-mand have been *adjusted, and will mark

these men unfit for further duty."

PAMPHLET AIR-DROPPED BYBOMBERS OF THE INVADER EX-PEDITIONARY FORCES: "Ameri-cans ! Lay down your arms. Furtherresistance is useless. Your active army isoutnumbered live to one and virtuallywithout equipment. You have lost thewar. Help to make the peace as easy onyou as possible. For each day of con-tinued resistance your eventual food ra-tion will be cut a certain percentage. Laydown your arms I"

"

Drop it!" Joe Morgan snapped.lie held the rifle leveled. The two

men in ragged field uniform, sway-ing with weariness dropped their

weapons, a carbine and a submachinegun. They were dirty and unshavenand one of them had a bandage,

dark-stained with blood across hisleft hand.

"Move over to the side!" he or-

dered. The men obeyed meekly.Alice went down the steps andpicked up the weapons, staying wellout of the line of fire.

"Who are you?" Joe demanded.The older of the two said, deep

weariness in his voice : "Hakcr Com-

pany, Five oil eight battalion,Eighty-third." Then he added, witha note of ironic humor, "1 think

maybe Harry and me arc the wholecompany.

"

"

You,ve given up, eh? You,relooking for a hole to hide in."

The younger one took two heavysteps toward the porch. Jle said:"Put down that pop-gun, junior, andwe

'll talk this over. I don,t like what

you said."

"Shut up, Harry,' the older onesaid. "Mister, yesterday we pickedus a nice spot and kept our headsdown until they come along with ahigh-speed motor convoy. Theywere too close together. We killedthe driver in the lead truck and piledup the convoy, Wc sprayed '

em

real nice and got away up the hill,As long as wc got a few rounds we,renot through."

joe grinned. "Then welcome tothe Morgan Irregulars. Come on in.We've got food and hot water andsome bandages for that hand. IIowclose do you guess they arc?

"

"Fifteen miles, maybe. But9S ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION

they,re not headed this way. They,reusing the main road as a supply line,I think."

The men came up on the porch.Joe stood his rifle beside the door.The older man said: "What makes

you think we won't bust you one andtake your food and take over yournest, mister?"

"Because," Joe said. "you.have a

hunch that

a little more

know what I got up my sleeve.besides

, you,re not the first guys to

get here, you know. Tf you,d made

a move toward that rifle, you wouldhave caught a surprise from thebrush out there." He turned and

said, "O.K., guys. These two will

do."

By twos and threes about fifteenwell-armed men sauntered out of the

brush.

America in turmoil. Not a man

but who, at some time in his life, hadspeculated on how the country wouldbehave under the iron heel of an in-vader. Had the softness of life in

this big lush country destroyed the

hidden focus of resistance? Where

was the heart of the country?Gaunt and bearded men

, withnothing left but fury, rushed thearmored columns with home-made

bombs of rags and gasoline. The

TROJAN HORSE LAUGH AST-5J 99

jacketed bullets smashed them downbut always a few got close enoughto throw the bomb and die. And

black greasy smoke wound up intothe fall sky and the blackened hull ofa vehicle was towed off onto theshoulder

, sentinel of death, monu-ment to valor.

In the night an absurdly youngman wormed 011 his belly behind thehangars, killed the guard with aknife, crawled into the cockpit of thejet fighter, ripped off into the pinkdawn. They climbed after him. Hewent around in a screaming arc, lev-eled out twenty feet above the.ground, and smashed himself and thealien ship into whining fragments-but he took with him six of the enor-mous bombers.

A destroyer, the last of the fuel al-most gone, cut all lights, drifted likea wraith through the night, driftedwith the tide into a-, vast harbor

where the enormous supplies of inva-sion were being unloaded under thefloodlights.

Erupting with all weapons, withthe boiling wake of torpedoes, thecan fought and smashed its waydown the line of freighters, driftingat last, a flaming ruin into one lastsupply ship, blanketing it in the sui-cide flame.

In the Satigre de Cristo Mountain-tains three full divisions hide, and .itnight the patrols in strength smashinvader communications, blow upammunition dumps. When thebombers sail out at dawn to punishsuch insolence, nothing can be seen

but the raw red rock of the moun-tains.

The Invader, taunted and stungfrom every side, lashes in fury, de-stroying without cause, forsaking allplans of gentle administration to ruleby flame and by the firing squad andwith machine guns aimed down thedeserted streets of the silent towns.

The common denominator is fury,and the pain of loss. But thirty-fivemillions, the city dwellers, are yethostage to the new weapon of emo-tional resonance

, and as the longdays go by, the empty and hopelessdays, once again within them buildsup the cretin joy, the mechanicalgaiety, the vacuous death-dance,threatening to explode once moreinto crazy violence.

Thirty-five millions, tied, one toanother, by a life-rhythm so carefullyadjusted as to be the final indignitymeted out to the human spirit.

They have not left their cities andneither the attacks of the Invader nor

the destructive joy of the adjustedhas served to destroy those cities.

The Invader, wise in the ways of

his own weapon, evacuates his troopsfrom the afflicted cities during theweek before the emotional peak isreached.

Joe Morgan, grown to new statureduring this time of trial, has care-fully husbanded his strength, hasmade no move so flagrant as to causea punitive column to be sent to thesmall lake. He has sent his men on

recruiting missions and his force hasgrown to over two hundred.


Seventy miles away is a small citywhere, before the invasion, there wasa splendid medical center. A spy re-turns and reports to Joseph Morganthat the doctors from the medical

center have been impressed into themedical service of the Invader

, thatthey work in the original medicalcenter, now filled with Invadertroops.

Joe Morgan remembers a featurestory he once wrote-on a certain Dr.Horace Montclair.

Five days before the adjusted wereto reach their emotional peak, theirfive-day orgy, Joe Morgan, leading apicked group of ten men, crouchedin the back of a big truck while an-other of his men, dressed in a cap-tured uniform, drove the truck up tothe gate of the medical center.

The gate guard sauntered over tothe cab window, reached a hand upfor the transportation pass. The en-trenching tool smashed the guard,sthroat and he dropped without asound. The truck rolled up to themain building and Joe led the tenmen inside.

In the stone corridor the weaponsmade a sound like a massive ham-

mering on thiclf metal.But four men backed with Joe out

the door to the waiting trufck. Oneof them was Dr. Montclair.

The dead guacd had been found.Whistles shrilled near the gate. Joe,at the wheel, raccd the truck motor,smashed the slowly closing gates,rode down the men who stood in his

path.He took the road west out of town,

as planned, -pursuit in swifter ve-hicles shrilling behind them.

At the appointed place he stoppedthe truck. The five of them ran

awkwardly across the field, droppedinto a shallow ditch. The pursuitscreamed to a stop by the abandonedtruck. A patrol spread out, ad-vanced slowlv across the field.

*

At the proper moment Joeshouted. The rest of his command,

the full two hundred, opened up witha curtain of fire. Two men of the

patrol turned,, tried to race back, andthey, too, were smashed down by theaimed fire.

In the black night they circled thetown, headed back across country tothe quiet lake. The return trip tookthree days.

The windows of the cabin were

carefully sealed. Joe Morgan sat atthe table facing Dr. Montclair. Theywere alone, oxcept for Alice who satback in the shadows. She

, like JoeMorgan, had acquired a newstrength, a new resolution, born bothof anger and despair and the sharedweight of command,

"

It was daring, my friend," thedoctor said. He was a small manwith too large a head, too frail abody, looking oddly like an aging,

clever child."It was something we had to do,

"

Joe said, "or go nuts sitting herewaiting for company."

"

I didn,t care for you, Mr. Mor-gan, when you interviewed me. Ithought you lacked integrity of anysort.

"


Joe grinned, "And now I,ve gotsome ?"

"Maybe that wryness which is anessential part of you is what all menneed in these times. Hut we arc get-ting too philosophical, my friend.What can I do for you ?"

"Doc, you,ve studied this TrojanHorse of theirs

, where the people de-feat themselves. What,s the an-swer ?"

"Just like that? The answer?"Dr. Montclair snapped his fingers."Out of the air? Answers have to

be tested. I have suppositions only.""There isn,t much time to set up

a lab to do the testing. Just pickyour best supposition and we

,ll work

on it."

Dr. Montclair rubbed his sharpchin, stared at the table top. "Obvi-

ously one of the basic qualities of thedisease, and we will call it that, istlie progressive infectiousness of it.The peaks arc intensified - by theproximity of the other victims. Thusone possible answer is isolation. Butthe infected must be thinned out to

such an extent that they do not, inturn, infect their neighbors, eh?"

"Oh, sure. Thirty-something mil-lion people, so we isolate them."

"Do not be sarcastic, Mr. Morgan.Another thought is whether, if a manwere drugged heavily enough, itwould delay his cycle so that his peakwould come at a different time, thusdestroying the synchronization whichappears to be the cause of reso-nance.

"

"Look, Doc, those suppositionsarc interesting, but we have a little

war on our hands. I,ve been won-dering how we can turn their Tro-jan Horse against them. A horseon them, 3011 might say."

"

They have withdrawn from thefocal pointsof infection, my boy.They are unwilling to risk infectionof their troops."

"

How many men would you saythey have inside our borders ?"

"I can make a guess through hav-ing seen consolidated medical re-ports. Forty divisions, I believe.With servicc troops you could esti-mate the total strength at one and aquarter millions."

Joe Morgan whistled softly.He said : "In two days the peak of

hysteria hits again. The cities willbe like . . . like something never seenbefore on earth. How does the In-

vader plan to handle it after all re-sistance has stopped ?"

Montclair spread his hands,shrugged his shoulders. "Do theycare? Left alone the thirty-some-thing millions will at least tear them-selves apart. The human mind can-not stand that constant pattern. Sui-cide, laughing murder. They willcease to be a problem and then theempty cities can be occupied safely.

"

"There,s nothing we can do in timefor the next big binge?"

"Nothing," Montclair said sadly."Then we,ve got roughly thirty-

two days to dream up a plan and putit in operation. What,vc we got?A few hundred men, ample supplies,a hidden base and some expert tech-nical knowledge. We

,re not too bad

off, Doc. Not too bad off at all."

102 ASTOUNDING SCIF.NCF.-riCTION

VIII.

STATUS SUMMARY, RADIO RE-PORT BY COMMANDING GEN-ERAL

, EXPEDITIONARY FORCES:Resistance continued to stiffen up untilten days ago. Then, when the peak ofhysteria was readied, the cities ceased tooperate as supply bases for guerrillaforces. Death in the cities was high, ourforces having withdrawn to safe positionsto avoid contagion. The breathing spacewas used to track down and eliminate hun-

dreds of irregular groups engaging ill pun-ishing ambushing tactics. Our lines wereconsolidated. Resistance by organized anduninfected detachments of the enemy armycontinues high, but their position is. ofcourse, hopeless. With amazing ingenuitythey have constructed certain airfieldswhich our bombers have, as yet, been un-able to locate. But it is merely a questionof time. It is regretted that so many ofthe naval vessels of the enemy were per-mitted to escape the surprise attacks, as

they are definitely hampering supply.

REPORT BY COMMANDING GEN-ERAL. ARMIES OF DENFENSE

. TOTHE PROVISIONAL PRESIDENT:Supply and manpower is no longer ade-quate to permit the utilization of standardmilitary tactics. All our forces are nowconcentrated in mountainous regions inpositions which cannot be overrun exceptby Invader infantry. All labor battalionsare now engaged in the construction ofdefensive points. All future offensive ac-tion will be limited to" patrols. It is thusrecommended that the production facilitiesnow housed in the natural caves be utilizedentirely for small arms ammunition, nfor-tar projectiles, pack howitzer ammunition.Stiategy will be to make any penetrationof our lines too expensive to he under-taken. The critical factor is

, as pre-viously stated, food supply.

EXCERPT FROM STENOGRAPHICRECORD. MEETING OF PRO-VISIONAL CABINET CALLED BY

PRESIDENT TO HEAR PROPOSALOF GUERRILLA LEADER:President:! wish to explain, gentlemen.

that Joseph Morgan, with fourof his men parachuted behindour lines from an aircraftstolen, at great cost to his or-ganization. from the Invaderairfield twenty miles west ofDaylon. Two of his men wereshot by our troops as theylanded.

Morgan: We had no way to identify our-selves.

War: Do you have any way to iden-tify yourself now? Some of ourpeople have been willing to turntraitor for the sake of their

future safety.Morgan: Don,t you think I could have

picked an easier way?President: Gentlemen

, please! Joseph Mor-gan has been thoroughly inter-rogated by our experts andthey are satisfied. Mr. Morganhas been in conference at hisbase with a Dr. Montclair

. an

endocrinologist of internationalreputation. He brings us aproposal which I. at first, re-fused to countenance. Its costis enormous. But it may endthis stalemate. 1 ask you to lis-ten to him. I could not makethis decision by myself. I havenot the courage.

Finance: This is not a stalemate. This is

slow defeat. I will favor anyplan, no matter how costly.which will give us a shred ofhope.

Morgan: I'll outline the plan and thengive you Montclair's reasoning.

Winter war. December has blank-eted the east with a thin wet curtainof snow. Winter is hard on the ir-

regulars, but works no hardship onthe troops of the Invader. The vastfood stocks of the nation are his

, as

TROJAN HOUSE LAOGH 103

are Ihe warm barracks, the heatedvehicles, the splendid medical care.

A guerrilla with a shattered ankledies miserably in the cold brush, nearthe blasted fragments of the house inwhich he took shelter.

The cities are thinned of people.For the first time it is noticeable.The last emotional debauch took fivemillions. Now there are thirty mil-lions left. They have a breathingspell.

Invader troops are given leave inthe cities. They go armed. Theysample the wines, flirt with thewomen and sing their barbaric songsand gawp at the huge trenches whichwere dug to bury the dead of thecities.

Once again there is light and heatin the cities. The winter is cruel,but there is heat. And there is food-stuffs in the markets, though notenough. Not nearly enough.

Were it warm summer, possiblythe adjusted would leave their cities,would go into the countryside to beaway from the places of horror. Inthe south and in California they tryto leave, are roughly herded back bythe Invader who seems to say, "Stayin the traps I have prepared for youand die there."

This is a policy decreed by a mannamed Lcwsto who, high in the coun-cils of the Invader, walks with pigeontread and squared shoulders, the newand highest medal of his countryshining on the left breast of the drabuniform.

Cyclical nightmare. The slow up-ward climb toward crescendo has be-

gun once again, and no man lookssquarely into the face of his neigh-bor, knowing that he will see theresome of the fear and horror that has

coldly touched his heart. And yet,each man and woman has a secret

place which revels in the thought ofthe nightmare to come. It is like anaddiction to a strange drug. Night-mare there must be

, and death theremust be, but with guttural shouts ofanimal joy, with a wild, unheedingpassion of insane laughter, when con-sequences are not considered, nor are

the customary mores and folkways.Each adjusted person in the city

feels shame in his heart because,

though lie knows that pure night-mare lies ahead, nightmare which hemay not survive, he yet anticipatesit with a certain warm and soiled

sense of expectancy.This, then, is the conquered coun-

try, the proud race, the men whoknow defeat, and yet cling to themanner of their defeat, an overripefruit, plucked once each month.

In a silent cabin Alice sits at the

rude table and the glow of the lan-tern highlights the strong cheek-bones, the limpid mouth, and she isbeautiful indeed.

Dr. Montclair sits opposite her.Quickly he touches her hand.

"He

will make it, Alice. I know he madeit."

"He,s gone. That,s all I know.Somebody else could have gone. Buthe had to go."

In the brush there is the quick andangry spat of a rifle, the answering

104 ASTOUXD1KG SCIENCK-FlCTlON

sound of an automatic weapon, likesonic vast fabric being torn, the fab-ric of the night.

As Montclair takes the weaponpropped against his chair, she quicklyblows out the lantern and, togetherin the darkness, they listen.

Hoarse shouts from the brush, the

authoritative crump of a mortar,alarmingly close, a scarlet blossomagainst which each bare twig standsout with the bland clarity of death.

"They,re coming in from bothsides," she whispers.

The rifle fire fades and slugs grindagainst- the cabin walls, throwingsplinters that whine.

Montclair is on his belly on theporch, Alice behind him in the door-way. As they come running acrossthe slope toward the porch, runningwith the heavy thump of men in fullequipment, Montclair sprays a line of

fire across them. Many fall, but theothers rush the porch. She firesagain and again, seeing Montclair diesuddenly, firing until the hand slapsthe rifle away.

She is thrust into a corner andthere arc six of them in the room,

seeming to fill the cabin. The lan-tern is lit and they look at her andtalk among themselves and sheknows that she should have saved

one of the rifle bullets.

Two of them advance toward her/slowly. They spin and snap to at-tention as the officer enters. He

looks at her, snaps something at themen. Then, with surprising gentle-ness he lifts her to her feet. He

leads her up through the brush to

TROJAN HORSE LAUGH

the waiting vehicle. She turns andwhimpers in her throat as she seesthrough the black lacework of trees,the flower of flame that grows fromthe cabin.

Every remaining plane is com-mitted to the venture. Every lastone.

Brave men have managed, some-how, to set up the short wave radiosbehind the Invader lines.

The teams arc carefully instructed.And there are several teams for each

portion of the venture, as losses willbe high.

At last the word conies. The greatemotional springs are once againwinding taut. The word comes."Today the Invader moved all per-sonnel out of the cities."

Joe Morgan, burdened with sixtypounds of equipment, climbed la-boriously into the belly of the trans-port. The interior of the aircraftwas dark. Cigarette ends glowedand the men laughed with the cal-culated steadiness of men who are

gambling life itself.The officer stood in the doorway

and said : "Team Eighty-two?"Joe answered, "Eighty-two, Mor-

gan commanding. All present andaccounted for."

The officer jumped down and thebig door slammed. The huge cavernin Ihe side of the mountain rever-

berated to the roar of many motors.The very air shook and quiveredwith the vibration. Outside the doz-

105

ers were dragging the rocks off therunway,

At last the cave doors were rolled

back. The first transports rumbledawkwardly to the doorway, gainingspeed, gaining agility, moving out,roaring along the runway, lifting offinto the night.

Team Eighty-two was airborneand Joe, squinting through the sidewindow saw the streaked jets of thefighter cover.

The scene was duplicated at otherhidden fields.

Ten minutes before interceptionon the basis of radar watch over themountains.

Interception came. Invader pur-suit ships were dark lances in thenight. Distant flames, like weakcandles, blossomed briefly and weregone in a red line of fire toward thesleeping earth.

The lumbering transport weavedheavily through the night, and JoeMorgan sat in a cold agony of fear.

From time to time he glanced atthe illuminated dial of his watch. At

last he said loudly, over the motorrqar: "Fasten static lines."

He reached up and snapped hisown, tugged on it to test it.

Ten minutes, twelve, fifteen. Thewing lifted and the transport slippeddown, down, to where the city lightsglimmered through the overcast.Spiraling down.

The plane seemed to brake in theair as the flaps caught hold, seemedto waver on the very edge of insta-bility.

The wind was a shrill blast

through the open door. "What are

you doing here, Morgan?"

Joe askedhimself softly.

He braced his hands against thesides of the door, saw the target areabelow. The man behind him had a

hand on Joe,s shoulder.Joe stepped out into the night,

into the cold, tumbling night, andthe flatness of the city spun aroundhim like a vast wheel. The sharpjolt caught him and he swung pendu-lum-wise toward the darkened earth,

swinging under the pale flower ofsilk.

Then he was tumbling on the

106 ASTOUNDING SCI F. NCli- FICTION

frozen ground of the park of the bigcity, grasping the shroud lines, brac-ing his feet, fumbling with thebuckles. The chute collapsed and hestepped clear of the harness.

"Over here," he yelled. "Overhere."

Roll call. "Peterson, Barnik,Stuyvessant, Simlon, Garrit, Reed,Walke, Purch, Norris, Humboldt,Crues, Riley, Renelli, Post, Charne-vak."

All but one. One was imbeddedto half his thickness in the frozenearth.

They were in a silent circlearound him.

He said: "You all know this town

like the palm of your hand. Youeach have your sectors

, and your

instructions. You know the planand you know that it has to work."

He was silent for a moment. Then

he said : "After it goes off, it,s everyman for himself. We meet back here.Good luck."

At base headquarters of the In-vader, the commanding general lis-tened gravely to the report of hisAir Intelligence.

After listening, he made his de-cision. "

Apparently they desire toset up, within the ciftes, focal pointsof resistance. You believe that men

were airdropped into every one ofthe major cities and most of thesmaller cities which are infected. It

is obvious to me that they underesti-mate the extent of hysteria whichwill hit the cities within four days.

We will wait until after the hysteria,until after the suicide period, andthen we will gq in and eliminate themen who were airdropped."

The reporting officer saluted,turned smartly and left the office.

Joe Morgan stood in the cold graymorning and looked at Daylon. Hehad found and taken over one of the

many empty rooms in the city. Thecity had suffered greatly.

He carried a heavy suitcase. Ashe walked down the morning streethe looked carefully at the houses.Whenever he saw an empty one hebroke in quickly, opened the suitcase,took out a small package the size of acigarette package.

In each house he left the packagein a different place. But the fa-vorite spot was in the cellar, wiredto the rafters overhead.

He saw a few jicople that he knew.They looked blankly at him, smiledand went vaguely about their busi-ness.

The people of Daylon were leanand ragged and their eyes were hol-low. But they smiled constantly.

In mid-morning, a smiling police-man in a dirty torn uniform askedhim what he was doing. Joe said:"

Come in here and I'll show you."The policeman followed Joe throughthe door Joe had forced.

Joe pivoted, hit the man on thechin with all his strength, walkedback out of the house carrying thesuitcase.

Carefully he covered the sector he


had allotted to himself. Publicbuildings, houses, garages, stores. Inmany places he had to be extremelycautious. In stores lie hid the pack-ages among slow-moving merchan-dise. The city went through the mo-tions of existence, but on every facewas the look of expectancy.

Four days before the explosion

of emotions, before the laughing orgyof death. Three days. Two days.The last of the packages has beenplaced. But there are four muchlarger packages to be delivered.

And these are delivered at night.At night he found a stout iron bar,

used it to pry up the manhole covers.The large packages nestled comfort-ably against the welter of cables andpipes.

This is the day before the tightspring will snap. Already there isempty laughter in the streets of thecity, in the streets of all the vastcities.

The armies of the Invader, wellremoved from the focal points ofcontagious hysteria, clamp severe re-strictions on all areas to prevent thecurious from sneaking off to thecities.

At eleven o,clock on the morningof the day before pandemonium willreigp, the streets of the cities vibrateto the massive thump of subterraneanexplosions. Steel manhole covers sailup into the air, turning lazily, smash-ing pedestrians as they fall. The un-derground caverns roar with burninggas and then the roaring is gone as

108

. the severed water pipes spill the con-tents underground.

All electricity ceases to flow.One hundred and seventy-one

teams won through. Sixteen men toa team. Four bombs and one thou-

sand of the deadly half-ounce pack-ages to each man. Ten thousandnine hundred and forty-four explo-sions in the bowels of the great cities.Two million

, seven hundred andthirty-seven thousand of the deadly-packages distributed.

For this is a kind of suicide, on a

vast and generous scale.

The packages are closely co-ordi-nated. A few sputter prematurely,

but within a few minutes after the ex-

plosions, the acid has eaten throughthe lead shields within more than halfof them. They flame into life, burn-ing with a white dazzling flame thathas an intensity of twenty-four hun-dred degrees Fahrenheit and a dura-tion of twenty minutes. All of thefading resources of an almost-con-quered nation has gone into thepreparation of these packages ofdeath.

With the water supply crippled,

there is no possibility of fighting thefires.

Whole streets erupt into flameand the melted*glass of the windowsruns across the pavement.

It-is almost too successful. The

densely populated eastern seaboardis one vast pall of smoke drifting inthe crisp December air.

Too many die in the flames. Fartoo many.

ASTOUNDING S CIE N C E-FI CTIO N

Tint from the roaring furnaces ofthe cities nearly thirty millions windlike sluggish worms into the coun-tryside.

They have fear of the flames, fearof death, fear of pain-but it is notuntil tomorrow that they will be un-able to feel fear.

And so, with empty idle smiles,with vacuous eyes, they move towardthe vast camps of the Invader.

The Invader is outnumbered bythe victims of his satanic adjustment-twenty-five to one.

Too late, the danger is seen.. The camps of the Invader are near

the cities. They straddle the main,

roads. Machine guns arc mannedand white-lipped men fire prolongedbursts into the crowds that move so

slowly. And at last they are re-volted by the slaughter of these whosmile, even in death, and they re-fuse to obey orders.

The day darkens and in the nightthe cities arc vast pyres that reddenthe sky. The cities of America burnwith a brave flame and the sound of

the roaring can be heard for manymiles. The fire is behind them and

the guns, unmanned by now, arcahead

"

of them.At dawn the Invader orders the

armies to retreat away from thesemad ones, to retreat to the fastnessof the hills.

But already the infection is atwork. Already the spirit of spon-taneous hysteria has begun to infectthe troops of the Invader.

Massive tanks sit empty while men

shout hoarsely and dancc in thestreet. The planes are idle, the gunsunmanned, the officers joining theirmen in a frenzied rapport with thevictims of disaster.

Suddenly the spirit grows amongthem that they are.celebrating vic-tory. Victor and vanquished reveluntil they fall exhausted, sleep, riseto bellow with laughter, to stare withglazed eyes at the winter sky, howlwith the voices of wolves.

It is a party of death, lasting forday after day, with all thought offood forgotten, and the cities burnbrightly every night and the wintersun by day is shrouded with thedrifting black smoke of utter destruc-tion.

STATUS REPORT. HQ. ARMIES OF

DEFENSE: At dawn today all columnswere within striking distance of nil corpsheadquarters of the Invader forces. Scoutsreport utter exhaustion in enemy ranks,

black depression among individuals, a con-stant sound of small-arms fire indicatinga high incidcncc of suicide among the In-vader troops. All personnel has strictinstructions about the destruction ofequipment. The attack will begin at dusk.

INTERCEPTED RADIO FROM CON-VOY COMMANDER: Convoy takingreinforcements to our armies attacked atdawn by strong naval force of enemy.Some of our ships, manned by enemy.were among attacking vessels. Numeroustroop ships bombed by our own planes, ap-parently manned by enemy forces. Lossincidence so high that we were forced toturn back at ten hundred hours. Requestimmediate air cover if convoy is to pro-ceed.

Joe Morgan held lightly to the


trunk of a small tree halfway up theslope six miles from Day Ion. Evenat this distance he could feel the in-termittent waves of heat against hisface.

But five men were left of his

group. They were scorched, black-ened, drugged with weariness.

"Listen !" lie said.

The six men stood, listening in-tently. They heard the rising soundof battle, the hammer blows of artil-lery, the distant thin crackling ofsmall-arms fire.

The crescendo of battle rose

sharply, faded, subsided, until theycould hear nothing.

"Five bucks says we took them,"Joe said.

IX.

FIRST NATIONAL PROCLAMA-TION : The determined attack to landanother force on our shores has been

beaten back with heavy losses to theenemy. At the moment our continentallimits arc intact once more. 1 lourly wegrow stronger as we manufacture weaponsto supplement those taken from the In-vader armies after the burning of thecities. The Invader has been weakenedby the loss of the cream of his troops, themost modern of his equipment. Three ofour naval teams are pursuing the shatteredremnants of the Invader convoys. Thismorning the Invader capital was subjectedto intensive bombing and his principle portwas rendered untenable by an underwaterexplosion of an atomic bomb in the mainship basin.

Joe Morgan stood in the barrenhallway of the temporary buildingwhich housed the hospital and said,

110

uneasily, to the young doctor: "Is

there anything I shouldn,t bring up?I mean, she had such a rough timethat maybe-"

The young doctor smiled. "A weekago I would have restricted the con-versation. But that was the day shefound out that you were safe. A

powerful medicine, Mr. Morgan.""Can I-""

Go right in. She,s cxpcctingyou.

"

Alice was pale against the pillow,

and, as she stretched her hands to-

ward him her eyes filled with tears.

Joe held her close for long min-utes

, then said : "Tell me about it

if it,ll help. If it won't help, I'mnot going lo insist."

"

You know about the camp?""

Yes. Montclair's body was stillon the charred porch."

"A young officer took me in astaff car to their central head-

quarters. They had taken one of yourmen

, one that was wounded whenyou took the plane from the field nearDaylon. They . . . they made himtalk, but he didn't know enough.They thought I would know'more."

Joe<

s fists tightened."T

.ewsto was there. When theywere taking me down a long hall Imet him face to face. He went to

someone in authority and got per-mission lo interview me. I didn,t

want to be . . . hurt. So I told him

a few things. Almost right, butnot quite right. He believed me.

"The day the fires started he came

ASTOUNDING SCI F.N CIC- FICTION

to I he room where I was held. lieknew I had tricked him. He sentthe matron out of the room. I hadstolen the matron

,s scissors. I ... I

slabbed him in the side of the throatwith them. Il didn

*t kill him quicklyenough. He shot me as I left theroom."

He stroked her hair back fromher forehead. She smiled, "Don,tlook so grim, darling. It,s all rightnow. Honestly. I was in theirhospital when the j>eople came fromthe city. It was madness. Worse . . .much worse than the time when yousaved me in Day Ion. That seems athousand years ago.""Ft was a thousand years ago.""We . . . we're winning now,

aren"t we?"

Joe smiled. "We,ve won. Thatis, if it,s possible to win a war."

"What will we do now, Joe?They,ll let me up in a few days."

There was a window in the hos-

pital room. From it he could seethe distant blackened skyscrapers ofwhat had once been a city.

He said slowly: "They,ve isolatedall the 1adjusted' ones. There,s a

pitifully small number left, youknow. The medics are makingprogress on undoing the adjustment,on fitting the people back into theiroriginal, individual pattern. Iso-lated, the peaks aren,t as high or thedepths as low. So that work is goingwell, and now all we have to lookout for are the fools."

"Fools?" she asked.

He gave her a tired smile. "Alot of people want to rebuild thecities. They

,re stuck in the past.The city is an extinct beast, like thedodo. We burned beautiful and ir-

replaciible things, but we also burnedmile after mile of squalid streets anddirty slums.

"No man should live crammed

into a dark room near his neighbors.We have room to expand, and togrow. This has to be a nation ofsmall towns and villages. In noother way could we have got rid ofthose vast, ugly, nerve-janglingcities of ours. To regain our strengthwe will have to live closer to the

land. Our transportation is efficient.Factories can be placcd amongwooded hills."

He turned back and looked quicklyat her as he heard her warm laugh.

"What cooks, angel?""

Oh, Joe," she said, "and I askedyou what we would do. There,

s a

lot to be done, isn't there?""An awful- lot.""Would it be all right to have

just one thing rebuilt? Just oneplace ?"

He walked back to her and took

her hand. "Angel, if you mean thatmiserable little cabin, you might beinterested to know that reconstruc-

tion star.ls next week. It*ll be finished

when you"re ready to leave thisoutfit."

THE END


P-PLUS

BY PETER PHILLIPS

You know those "Rabbits, take our Pep Pills and kick thewolf in the teeth/" ads? Well now if one of those pills

really worked, what would it do to the world,

s economy ... ?

Illustrated by Orbaa

Like that other world-disrupter,the atom bomb, P-Plus had Small,apparently insignificant, theoreticalbeginnings. P. A. Summercot pre-supposed a certain type of charge,affected a reflex arc electrically,worked up to superimposing a newengraphic grouping of the neuroneselectronically.

Then, with prudent foresight orlack of consideration-depending onthe viewpoint-he died after givingbirth to the idea, and left the babyto grow into a ravening monster infoster-hands.

His mild old face was still faintlysurprised at the result of his firstcompletely successful experiment ashe lay on a bench in his laboratory,hands crossed piously on breast.

In the next room, the inheritorsof the monster debated the results

and the implications of a crowdedninety minutes, which had begunwith a full-page advertisement in theLong Island Courier, one of thefew remaining newsprint sheets in

an age of televised photostats.Simply:

DO YOU WANT A NEWPERSONALITY?

CONTACT P. A. SUMMER-

COT, IDRIL SOUND.

Bill Wain, ideas man for Tele-

globe, pointed it out to editor BraeMason.

"Only a genius or a nut wouldtry a Barnum and Bailey ad like thatthese days," he said.

Mason, brash, confident, youngesttelepaper editor in the city, said:"I,ll settle for the nut. Who is he?"

Wain told him. Philip Ans-truther Summercot, age seventy-some, finest neurologist theoreticianin the hemisphere, fired from Van-couver faculty five months back fordisagreeing with accepted methodsof tuition.

"

And now apparently in the patentmedicine racket. It is

,

" said Mason

decisively, "a sob-story for the112 ASTOUNDING SCI EN C K-FICT ION

Saturday Supplement. Tongue-in-cheek write-up of the quack clinic

'

for turning mice into Napoleons-contrast with the doddery old boyhimself-dig up sorrowing family,

loving and faithful granddaughter-shot of her with arm round his

bowed shoulders, caption quote "Ibelieve in granpaw*-sighing head-shakes from former colleagues-"

"He,s unmarried," Wain inter-

rupted, tapping pipe dottle on theeditorial carpet. "And he may besane.

"

"Yak-yak. You been reading oldmagazines ?" Mason drew a yellow-leaved pulp from a drawer, began

to read advertisements. "Be a man,

not a mouse .... let me give you adynamic personality ... do peoplelook around when you come into aroom? . . . are you Little-Johnny-Sit-ln-Corner ? . . . learn the secrets

of Yoga, become a Master of Men. . . Personal Magnetism can beyours, clip the coupon, no obligation. . . why not ask HER to dance?What holds you back-"

Wain stuck to his point. It wasworth looking into from the newsangle. It might only be Supplementstuff, but if it was news and Tee-

veepress beat them to it, Martin

p-plus 113

would bite hunks out of his nicc new

desk.

"If you"d been raised on printer,sink

, like me, instead of photographicemulsion-" he began. It was an

_pld argument. Mason cut it short.1 le had one of his fine

, bright ideas."Right. Beat it down there your-

self. The editor of the Courier

might let you take a smell at hisprint shop. Strap a two-way on.And take that vacuous

, unco-ordi-natcd, helpless, hopeless, beanpole,Clement Makeham with you. He'srated our <science adviser., Let him

interview Summercot. Crank meets

nut. You stay on the side lines andbeam the laughs back here. If Ilaugh enough, it'll make the nexttransmission."

"You mean-pillory both ofthem? Y*

ou're such a smart boj',

"

said gray-haired Wain with a kindof fond bitterness.

"That,s why I,m behind this desk,old-timer," Mason said.

Wain grimaced, shrugged wide,stooped shoulders, and left.

Split seconds count on telepapers.Mason waited half-an-hour for

Wain to contact him. Five minutes

at most from the Teleglobe roofstation to Idril Sound-Wain should

have beet) on the air within twentyminutes after leaving with Make-ham.

Mason grinned, as always, at thethought of Makeham. Six-foot-twowhen he got his nose off the side-walk

, white-faced, stumble-tongued,hopelessly out of place in a telepaper

114

organization. He had been pitch-forked into the business by a share-owning uncle, who ignored hisdreams of a return to the peace ofresearch. But Makeham was so

burdened with gratitude for a jobhe didn,t want and hadn't asked for

that he couldn,t quit.Thirty-five minutes. Transmis-

sion due in twenty-five, with auto-matic meters ready to register thecustomers

, choice of a paper forfirming and issuing alter free two-second glimpses of front pages.

Precious seconds to photoset astory to catch their eyes and drawtheir nickels.

And Wain was off the air, out ofcontact-a breech of the rules.

Mason buzzed the pilot of Wain'scopter, waiting outside the Summer-cot mansion at Idril Sound, sent himinto the place with orders to getWain on.

And the pilot stayed inside thehouse. "

Mason sent a rum-headed reporternamed Carlsen, with orders to keephis two-way open as he went intothe Summercot place.

Carlsen went in, cut contact, andstayed in.

So did his pilot.Then Wain came on. "We're

not bucking you for the fun of it,Mason. I f you want to know why,come on over and join the party.This stuff can be tapped too easily-deliberately or by a ham."

Mason bit air near his hand-mike,

started bawling questions. Theclick of a cut-olT answered him.

ASTOUXDING SCIENCE- FICTION

"They,re all nuts," he told hisdeputy. "Take over. If I don"tphone back inside half an hour, tellChief Maxwell that someone,s run-

ning an unlicensed ha-ha academyon his territory and get him to senda squad of troopers to bust in.

"

Mason used his personal machine.He set the automap controls, leanedback

, watched the lights of LowerManhattan slide past beneath, liedidn,t appreciate the view.

"Once upon a time," his lips mur-mured softly, "there was a rabbit-

who-took-a-pep-pill-and-sockcd-a-wolf. Even Hottentots have aversion. Cave children were soothed

to sleep by a monosyllabic rendering.The idea*s quite passe. Worn-out."

Brae Mason sat up. He saidaloud: "And what is my subcon-scious prattling about?" He mused,

puzzled.Premonition, perhaps. A quirk

of unease, anticipation of impotence,precognition that skipped the cervi-cal cortex and commented on knowl-

edge yet to be gained, a fear yet tobe experienced.

Fear of what? Diminution of

self-assurance? Too passive. Thiswas an active detraction, a whisper-ing threat to the ego, resisted beforeit was met. Fine confused feedin,

-like the Scots haggis-fine con-fused thinking. You,re still theyoungest, smartest, tclcpapcr editorin New York.

Then why are you taking offpersonally after errant reporters in-stead of striking names off the pay-

roll and sitting back at your newsdesk to view test-transmissions of

the new edition, giving smart lordly,

last-minute instructions?

Why-Mason swore. He quit thinking.

Darkness had settled over the Sound.

The pale wash of the waters showedthe rock-serrated coastline. The

back-glow of a far air beaconshowed little detail of the terrain

.

The automap signal buzzed faintlyas the vanes feathered and gentlylowered the copter towards thesprawling bulk of a house.

Mason took over, glanced down.

He saw the tubby shapes of twoTeleglobe copters on the rear lawn.Automobile headlights showed acrowd clustered round the gatesfronting the main road. He puthis machine down gently alongsidethe others.

There were no lights in the win-dows fronting the terrace, but adim figure awaited him at the top ofthe steps."You arc expected, sir. This way,

sir."

He followed the manservantthrough open French windows intoa dark room, out into a corridor."

Cutting down on light bills?""Sorry, sir, but it is not desired

that the people out front should gainthe impression of any great activity."

"

Scared of gatecrashers?""

Something of the kind, sir, Iunderstand.

"

A Jeeves, and a house this size,Mason thought; Su.nmercot mustbe well-heeled for a professor.

P-l»LUS lis

The servant opened a door.Mason felt the quirk of unease

again, double. There Was that timein the small-town school when theprincipal had asked to sec him,and he hadn,t known what it mightbe about-the ammonia in the ink-wells? The busted window in the

cycle-shed? That fool girl with thepigtails who*d cried? Hadn,t he

felt the same way then, standingoutside the door of the principal

'

s

room ?

Don,t be crazy-Mason thrust hands savagely in

pants pockets, walked into the room.It was dimly lit by a single tablelamp. The windows were heavilycurtained.

Wain and his pilot were togetherin a double siteasy. Carlsen loungedslackly on an old-fashioned daven-port near the windows. His pilotwas in a stiff chair against, andblocking, a door in the left-handwall.

There was only one man standing.Mason looked at him, did a double-take. And then he knew what his

forward-perceiving subconscioushad b'een warning him against.

Six-foot two, pale-faced, thin-limbed, but with an case of bearing,of overweening assurance, of in-cisive presence that emanated fromhim almost as a visible aura.

Makeham. The ineffectual bean-

pole. The stuttering jerk.The jerk said: "I,m glad you

came. Mason, instead of sendingmore stooges-with apologies to

Carlsen." Cool, unstuttering voice,with a wealth of innate confidence-

Mason shook himself out of a

slight inertia. He took his handsfrom his pockets, wondered for acrazy second what to do with them,then pulled out a pack of cigarettesand busied himself with a lighter.

At least, he hadn,t been able to dothat with the principal-

"1 don>t know what goes on, butI have an idea what comes off-

certain names on Teleglobe,

s pay-roll. The explanation had better begood."

Perhaps that was inept, hethought. Perhaps a laugh wouldhave been a better method of self-

assertion. Though why he shouldfeel the need-

Wain said lazily through smokefrom his ancient pipe: "That,s whatwe

,re all looking for. Brae Mason-explanations.

And a solution.""I,ll handle it," said the trans-

formed Makeham. lie crookcd a

finger at Mason, went over to thewindows, drew the heavy curtainsaside.

Assert yourself now, Mason toldhimself. Assert yourself now-orforever have a hole in your ego.

Or-maybe best wait a while be-fore blowing your top. Get theset-up first-

Mason strolled over, as casuallyas possible.

Makeham pointed. Mason sawthe questing, bobbing faces of thecrowd on the road. And they sawthe light from the window.

Through the thick glass, he heard


shouts. He made out a few:"What,s the big idea?" "Who,sthat at the window?" "Is that

Summercot?" . . some kind of

gag."

Several were waving copies of anewssheet which lie guessed to bethe Long Island Courier, the onethat had printed the Summercot ad-vertisement.

Makcham let the curtains swingback.

"Wain," he said, "described it asa Barnum and Bailey advertisement.You can see that sort of thing stillhas pulling power even in these claysof copywriting by psychologists andsemanticists. At present those hun-dred or so out there are just a littlecurious and maybe irritated at hav-ing the gates closed on them. Ifthey knew what had just happenedin here, those gates wouldn"t holdthem.

"You don"t get it? I can,t blameyou. Even with my new clarity ofmind and nervous co-ordination I

find it difficult fully to correlate theimplications."

It was almost a relief to realize

and fulfill the precognition. "So

the rabbit did take the pep pill anddid sock the wolf, eh?" said Mason.He went on quickly: "It,s a goodstory. The oldest story in the worldcome true.

"

He appraised the up-right Makcham. "Why sit on it?Why are you all sitting around as ifthis was a wake ?"

"In a sense-it is. Take a look

through that door."

Mason did so. He knew what to

expect. He felt that he'd known

an hour ago what to expect. Thebody had been laid out on the labora-tory bench, face peaceful but faintlysurprised.

"Heart failure:" Makcham said,

"just as he completed his first suc-cessful experiment on his first per-fect subject. Me. When we arrived,

he said he needn't look further for abetter victim of all the social neu-roses.

"With the out-of-this world di-rectness and dispassion of a goodresearch man. he

,

d framed the adto draw a selection of neurotics so

that be could take his pick, insteadof looking privately. lie shooedaway the discards, had the gateslocked.

"lie explained the principles ofthe treatment to me and got to work.It took ten minutes.

"

It*s not wise to get overexcitedwith coronary thrombosis. He did."

"Has the hospital been in-formed ?""No. On my orders."Mason" sneered. "Your orders

too that. Teleglobe wasn,t in-

formed?" Me blanked his mind to

everything save the urgowt necessityto reassert himself. "Getting a littleoversize for your boots, aren'

t you,Makeham ?"

He strolled over to a discardedtransmitter

, began dialing. He sawthat Wain was regarding him withwry amusement.

Makcham said: "Put that down,

and listen."

P-PLUS 117

It was not a hypnotic compulsion.The magnet doesn,t hypnotize thesteel. The steel merely obeys linesof force through the path of leastresistance. It would be much easier

to put the transmitter down than togo on dialing-

Mason fought. Through closedteeth

, he said: "Give me one reason-quick.

"

Their eyes met. Mason lookedaway first. If that was his ego inhis stomach, something was jumpingon it with both feet.

Makeham smiled. "That>s one

reason. Personality is a strangething. Its efleets are felt, but canits cause be defined ? Does it lie in

the brain? Hardly, or we wouldn*

t

have comparative morons ruling in-telligent men. In physical presence?That would let out a five-foot runt

like Napoleon. Health? Some ofthe world,

s greatest personalitieshave-been virtual or actual cripples.

"You,ve seen badly-trainedspeakers dominate an audience, and

good speakers lose them. You've

seen women marry a Caliban inpreference to an Apollo."

Makeham waved a hand towards

the room in which Dr. Philip Ans-truthcr Summercot lay deaf to theiirst howls of his monstrous baby,

the Engramat."In there," Makeham said

„

"there,

s something bigger and morepotentially dangerous than the atombomb. Something that people seekfor and pine after all their lives, insome degree, consciously or not.

118

"Millions go to the stereos to sub-merge themselves in the strongerpersonalities of the heroes and hero-ines, to live dreams of aggrandize-ment. Millions of suckers fell forthose old ads that oiTcred to makethem into new men.

"Very few people are completelysatisfied with themselves, with char-acters sufficiently well integrated toresist the suggestion of aggrandize-ment.

"You spoke of the rabbit takingthe pep pill and socking the wolf.What happens when millions ofrabbits hear that such a "pill, exists?

That the dream of centuries, thetheme of a thousand stories

, satiresand folk-yarns, has become a fact?The little man who dopes up andslugs his domineering boss-the hen-peck who pecks right back-theworm that turns-and all the vari-ants.

"In there," Makeham concluded,"lies the world,s most valuable

commodity, next to food. And I.don,t want to get killed in the rushfor it.

"So-sit down and listen."

Mason's punctured ego gave afinal wriggle. He sighed.lie said: "You have ten minutes

before a squad of State troopersbusts in here."

Makeham said: "Time enough.I,

ve figured a solution."

News agency item:. . . Dr. Summercot,s will, un- .

changed since his resignation fromthe Vancouver faculty, leaves his


entire estate, estimated at half-a-million dollars, to the University;with the exception of certain experi-mental apparatus verbally be-queathed shortly before his deathto Mr. Clement Makeham, in thepresence of several witnesses, in-cluding the editor of a New Yorktelepaper.

"The apparatus in question is be-lieved to be connected with the*hoax, advertisement which appearedin the Long Island Courier.

"Mr. Makeham said last night:'It is the product of a brilliant mindwhich latterly became obsessed withthe idea of changing the makeup ofhuman personality by electronicallyreducing the resistance offered at thesynaptial junctions to the spread ofactivation of behavior patterns, thusmore closely integrating the person-ality and realizing potentialitiespreviously confined to cerebral proc-esses. New engrains are superim-posed, so to speak, and the courseof formation of others is eased. Dr.Summcrcot realized at the last thathis theories were based on a false

premise and were scientifically un-sound. Consequently the machinepossesses only sentimental and curi-osity value., "

"That," said Makeham, "disposes

of that. All those present"-he in-

dicated Mason, Rill Wain, Carlsenand the two Teleglobe pilots, seated-in Mason,s office-"having perjuredthemselves nobly to the ProbateOffice at my request will now feelequally obliged, no doubt, to become

directors of the Engramat Corpo-ration."

Mason said: "And if not?""

Perjury in the matter of a will-including our statements to the Uni-versity trustees-carries a two-yearsentence." Makeham said calmly,

pushing aside the "stat of the newsitem to make room for his feet onthe side of Mason,s desk.

"

And my job here?""

You may keep it. I shan't callon you to he active. You can com-bine the two quite easily."

"Thanks a lot," said Mason bit-,

terly. "Meantime Alice wants towake up. You can all collect sal-aries in lieu from the cashier

.

and

get out of my office and out of thisbuilding."

Gray-haired Hill Wain, last out,chuckled as he looked back

'

at Mason."I,ve been around," he said

, "but

in my full and sinful life, it's the

first time I,ve ever seen a guy beefabout being made a millionaire."

"There is,

"

said Mason shortly,"

a fable about the nondistensibilityof frog-skin.

"

Frowning, he watched the broad-shouldered ex-ideas man close the

door.

Bill Wain, he,d have guessed,

would be the last man to fall in with

the wacky ideas of the transformedMakeham. Somehow it was difficult

even to think quite straight after aconcentrated dose of Makeham.

*

But dour, pipe-smoking, hard-

headed, big-hearted Wain, whose lifehad been built around newspapersand telepapers, surely wouldn,t walk

P-PLUS 119

out without a better reason than themere

ÿ

beckoning of Makeham-oreven the beckoning of dollars.

I-Ie jumped up, strode to the door,shouted: "Bill!"

Wain turned. Mason. went to

meet him, explained his doubts.Wain's level, gray eyes were

merry, "First time you ever ranafter anyone, Brae. Can,t under-

stand anyone leaving the newspapergame, eh? Don,

t worry kid. I,ll beback. Just taking a holiday-and Ineed the dough."

"You've taught me a lot, Bill,"Mason said awkwardly, "somehowI hated to think-"

Wain shook his head. "You let

Makeham shake you more than youknow. Save the sentiment. You,ve

got an edition to put to bed. Keeptough." lie held out a hand. Masontook it.

"Just a* holiday ?"

"Sure. Then I'll be needing ajob back-even if I am a million-aire."

The directors of the new corpora-tion had met in Mason,s office before

noon. Before three p.m., ClementMakeham, with a forcefulness and adelirious glibness of tongue thatwere a delight to watch and hear,had talked a building supervisor intoletting them an expensive officesuite-without an advance or refer-ences.

"The problem," said Warn, who'd

been an ad-man at one time, "is tosell a product without advertisingit."

The crated Engramat sat in onecorner of the largest room. Make-ham presided over a central desk.Ex-reporter Carlscn, lovingly tiltinga bottle of Bacardi that he describedas "director,s expenses" added:"And sell to the right people, too."

"Corn,"

Makeham said suddenly."Ripe, rich, fresh ofT the cob. Thecorniest ad that our combined geniuscan produce, the sort of hoary blahthat only an inhibited, introverted,repressed, ineffectual, day-dreamingdrip like . . . like-"

"Like you were two days ago?""AH right-like I was-would

bother to read once. The sort that

only a poverty-stricken out-of-townnewsprint sheet would accept. Per-sonal recommendations can do the

rest. Draft it, Wain."

Wain busied himself with a pencil,lubricated by iced beer. Smeeton andWrass, the ex-copter pilots, resumeda game of crap against the side ofthe desk. Makeham celebrated

mightily. Carlsen gargled in dreamybliss.

Wain sat back. "Listen. Thisshould do it: ,What,s your boss gotthat YOU haven't? PERSON-ALITY

, that force latent in all menthat onlv a few learn to use. The

SECRET of the AGES has beenREVEALED at last! We can giveYOU a DYNAMIC PERSON-

ALITY, ability to SWAY MEN toyour WILL. We can give you theDRIVE of a NAPOLEON, thePEP of a ROCKEFELLER, theIT of a STEREO STAR, theMAGNETISM of a GREAT


ORATOR! Afraid to ask for aRAISE? Take our TREAT-MENT and SOON the boss will be

asking YOU for one! DAZZLEEVERYONE with your WIT. Bea LEADER, not a LOUSE. TheBIGGEST MEN and the PRETTI-EST WOMEN will seek YOUR

advice, YOUR company, YOURfriendship! WHAT A MAN you,llbe! TREATMENT given ONLYIN PERSON. NO PILLS

through the POST. WRITE TO-DAY for CONFIDENTIAL IN-TERVIEW.' "

Grinning silence for a while.Then-"I-,eller," said Carlsen rever-

ently, with an appropriate gesture,"does that stink!"

But the real odor of Engramattook quite a while to develop.

April 6ShanevillcN

. Y. State

Engramat Corp.,Scaton Plaza,Brooklyn. N. Y.

Dear Mr. Engramat,I read your ad in the paper what docs

this treatment cost and so on not that Imcso interested I wouldunt but it happens Ipick up a lode near your adrcs on Thurs-days so please fix for a Thursday for mearound 1500 hours youd better

Shule BakerP

.S

. I drive a truck.

"Sit down, Mr. Baker," soothedMakcham. "What*s vour trouble?"

*

Shule Baker lowered his two

hum!red and ten pounds of brick-hard flesh onto the edge of a siteasy,

P-PLUS 121

continued to torture his cap withfingers like bananas.

"No trouble." It sounded like

a gravel-mixer in low gear. "Thisphony ad. I shoukla known better.I gotta mind to bust you one any-ways. What"

s the gag, uh ?""No gag, Mr. Baker. Do you

want our treatment?""Maybe I do. Maybe I don't.

I ain,t a dope. Plow do I know itdocs what you say ? How long doesit take ? What's it cost ?"

. . typical physical overcompen-sation for psychological deficiencies,

morbid suspicions, aggressiveness,fear of ridicule-" Makeham held

up a hand for silence-and got it-as he scribbled busily.

He got up. "This will take tenmini tes or so. Deposit two dollars.If you*re not satisfied, the depositwill be returned as you leave. I fyou arc satisfied, you will sign anagreement to

"

pay us two hundreddollars within a year-with the pro-viso that no legal action will betaken against you if you do not.You can,t lose. Come this way,

please."

Shulc Baker lumbered afterMakeham

, steel following the mag-net, mumbling: "I don,t get it.What,s this like? Does it hurt? IfI don,t like it

, I,ll tear this placeapart, starting on you."

"Through here, Mr. Baker."

June 10.

Shaneville Trucking Co.,N

.Y

. State

(Shule S. Baker, President)

Engramat Corp.Scaton Plaza,

Brooklyn, N. Y.

Dear Sirs:

Incloscd please find a check for five hun-dred dollars. This is, as you will observe,three hundred dollars more than the im-

plementation of our Agreement calls for.This is little enough recognition of whatyou have done (or me. However, I haverecommended your treatment to others-not widely, in accordance with your sug-gestion, hut only to intimate acquaintances;and I am, as you notice, not deputing thisletter to my secretary but writing it my-self-

Makeham stroked his thin face

approvingly as he read aloud thisevidence of the astonishing meta-morphosis of Baker. "An honest

man,

" he commented. "I knew he

had great possibilities,potentialities."Wain asked: "How about the im-

proved sj>elling and the two-dollarwords ?"

"All tucked away in the subcon-scious before. The block disap-peared at the same time as the in-feriority complex. And they learnfast, of course."

"Of course," said Wain, withfaintly sarcastic emphasis.

June 11.

Eph. DuguidAdvertising Consultant

Engramat Corp,Seaton Plaza,

Brooklyn, N. Y.

... check for one thousand dollars enclosed

July 2T

. D. Sillerbcc,

Variety Agent.


Engramat Corp,Engramat Building-,Manhattan

. . . reminding mc of our "Agreement."Do you need a job as a gag-writer? Gochasc your collcctivc self down Broadway.You can,t take it to court, and even if youcould, you

,d get laughed right out of itagain-

"Bad material," Makcham sighed."The nontransmutability of sow,sears and silk purses still holds good.

"

August 6General ElectronicsDivision,Milwaukee

Engramat Corp,New York, London, Paris

. ... twenty Engramats cratcd for dis-patch to your London premises-

Henry Pipct hanged the doorassertively behind him, threw hishat jauntily but aecurately onto apeg-

"Who,s that?" screeched Bella

Pipct."Who d'you think it is-the ice-

man ?"

Bella waddled into the hallway,mouth agape, regarded her husbandwith amazement. A trace of gravyadhered to her lower lip.

"What do you mean by bangingthe door and shouting at me likethat? You,re late. Your dinner'

s

cold. I believe you,ve been drink-

ing."She advanced to smell the evi-

dence.

"I haven't. But if I had, that,s"

my business. And take your fat.face away."

"W-what? You crazy? Youdare to talk to me like that

, you

little pipsqueak, and I"ll-" Shewheezed tor breath.

"You'll what?" sneered the ex-

henpcck. "I,ll tell you what-youcan get into the kitchen and rustleme a good hot meal. And don,tnibble while you,re at it. You eattoo much."

Within a few short dazed mo-ments, in which Bella had a hundredthoughts which suddenly, curiously,she was unable to express, the steelobeyed the magnet.

She went to the kitchen.

. . Never laughed so much sinceAunt Jenny died. I,ve seen topcomics in both hemispheres. There,sno one to touch him. And three

weeks ago, there wasn,

t an agent intown who"d look at him. He wowed,em overnight-"

"

. . . But his personality, mydear-positively OOZES at you.So warm, so dynamic. He,s mademe feel much better. And I don>t

care if he is a clairvoyant . . . er. . . quack. I feel I could do any-thing for him. Positively. ANY-THING."

"

. . . Are you bats? We alreadygot one washing machine. Hetalked you into it, uh ? Talked YOUinto it-you I've seen take a salesmanright through the garden and outonto the sidewalk ? Don,t give mcthat. I suppose he had nice curly

P-PLUS 123

hair, hey? Think .I,m made of

dough ?"

Think of all the stories of rabbits-

taking -pep-pills-and-socking-wolves,staples of cscapism through the ages,and invent your own extracts fromconversations as the EngraniatColossus grew.

For a dangerous period, it wasnot recognized as such. It was aclosed corporation, so there wereno market quotes. The pleonastic,increasingly-brash and scmiliteratcads-still confined to small-time

publications-were snickered at, ig-nored

,. or furtively answered.And by the«paradox of its own

being, Etigramat created an occlu-sion of its own implications in theminds of those who controlled it

and those who merely observed itseffects from the sidelines.

There arc none so blind as those

who won,t see. Induced hallucina-

tion covers both the things thataren

,

t there, but can be seen, and thethings that arc there but can,t beseen.

The flaw in the grandiose bur-geonings of P-Plus-as it was soonto be termed-was as evident as the

blueness of the sky.But the sky, says the first-year

physics student, isn,

t really blue.

Octobcr 2

Engraniat Corporation,New York, Paris, London,Buenos Aires, Prague,.Warsaw, Berlin, Ankara

Brae Mason, Esq.,Editor

, Teleglobe

(Strictly confidential)

Dear Mason,

Inclosed is the sweetest dough you everreceived, representing six months

, workingof a closcd

, and close-mouthed, corpora-tion. We don"

t even have to sink capitalto get co-operation, good will and bounte-ous credit. You know why. I

*

m just backfrom Warsaw. The Poles were all over

me. Had a little trouble with pirating inParis. Pirate got the circuit near-right,but didn*t understand the operating prin-ciple. First customer emerged a jabberingnut. Pirate now in jail.

Sorry you didn,t make it to my wedding-Dot Dillo

, the show queen, Empress ofVideo. A yumsomc dish. But maybe thatsounds out of character? I,ve bought upSummercot,s old place-and his Jeeves.

If you don,t like the smell of thesedoubloons-untaxed

, incidentally, you,llhave to see to that yourself, you honestboy-donate them to charity.

But at least, drop around and sec us

sometime.Clement Makchatn

Brae Mason flattened the missive."*Yumsomc dish," he muttered."His own wife-Anyway, who

'd

have dreamed that lanky poltroonwould grab off a girl like that.

"

lie felt, suddenly, much older

than his years.lie thought awhile, sent for gen-

eral columnist William Wakcwell,

whose penchant for plugging key-holes with his eye-or the eyes ofthe well-known names padding hisexpense sheet-was equalled by hislighthcarted inability to accord acorrect interpretation to what hesaw, vicariously or otherwise.

"You'll do it yourself," Mason

said coldly to the lean-faccd Wake-well

, who protested at the sugges-


tion of a column-size puff for whatwas ostensibly a quack ad.

"The

days when scribblers like you couldinfiltrate and finally, in effect, controlthe policy of a paper, have gone.You syndicated yourselves out ofexistence. Who wants to tune in to

your mug on every waveband andfirm it for perusal at leisure? Sogit, or get back on a newsprint sheetfor peanuts."

It was Wake well who coined P-

Plus-the corny ads had overlookedthis obvious tag-and it was handycoinage for captions and bannersfrom then on."So," read his report,. nickeled

into semipermancnce by curiousreaders from coast to coast, "I tackle

the first blonde. "Is this a secret

society?' I ask. Though far fromdumb, she doesn,t feel competentto answer that one. so she passesme up the beauty-chorus hierarchythat protects-or at least, comforts-the happy crew on the top floor ofEngramat Building.

"One up, a choice brunette, says"Appointment?' I by-pass with mywinning way, get to third base, adish with angles in all the rightplaces-for curves-and she sayshave I read the advertisements in

question and written for an inter-view and if I"ve done neither will

I go away, sincc obviously I*m in noneed of Treatment with a cap T.

"And elevate your eyebrows,sweet customers: when I suggestthe exchange of certain negotiatesfor the. privilege of speaking oneword over the disco, to the Top Boy

she says you can do that from out-side for two cents.

"The incorruptible madam agreeshowever to convey Upwards theintelligence of my coming-"

And a deal more in the same

vein. Wakcwell was pressed to fillspace. Resentfully and in hiscorniest style, he did.

Me was still basically, grudgingly,a reporter who had to eat; so whenthe burden of his findings finallycame, it was reasonably straightfor-ward if not very enlightening.

"So .Mr. P-Plus Makeham said

it was faith-healing, in the main, andwould yours truly care for a shortslug? What, I asked, fused some-what after his spiel about anorhexia,aphasia, toxic tremor, asthenopia,

vegetative nervous systems, suggesti-bility, reciprocal innervation, inte-gration, enuresis, dyschezia andendopsychic conflicts-what wouldI be needing it for?

"That, he says, is the point. If

1 wanted the Treatment, I*d need it.

If I needed the Treatment, I,d wantit. With which double talk-"

Bill Wain threw the Teleglobeaside.

"That"s a question we haven,tasked."

"It wasn't worth asking," saidMakeham." "A man doesn,t go to adoctor unless he,s sick. And he'ssick if he,s a hypochondriac. Lackof self-regard is the root of per-sonality deficiency. Those cornyads are a double check-a normally

r-PLUs 125

well-adjusted person laughs at them.

It would be a derogation 01 his self-regard if he didn,

t.

"If he admitted to himself that

he really needed improvement in thatway, that would be the beginningof a neurosis, his patterns wouldget snarled up-and he,

d end upby needing the treatment.

"On the other hand, a man whorealizes he,

s not well-adjusted hasat the same time insufficient self-

regard to set up a psychologicalblock against taking the treatment-so he takes it. But-if that man

hadn*t a personality potential in thefirst place, he,d never have realizedhis own lack of adjustment. So weget only the type that will benefit.

"There,

s a third kind, a parallelwith those who are too innately in-sensitive to know they,re sick-theydon"t go to a doctor and it wouldn,tdo them any good if they did."

Wain glanced narrovv-eyed overhis fuming pipe at the self-assuredMakeham. "IIow do you know?Anyway, you seem to have changedyour arguments a little. When thisthing began, you figured millionswould rush for it-"

"Sure-if we advertised it widelyand in a sane manner as a generalpepping-up treatment. People arenaturally hesitant about admittingthey

"

ve had it, and of recommendingit. except to their closest friends.Many are of the kind who,d want totake the kudos for the transforma-

tion themselves-,Aw, shucks, I,

ve

really been like this all the time, justlying low, waiting for the right mo-

126

ment. Yes, sir"-that,s what theysay. Don

,t blame them. There,s

still a slight stigma attached even toperfectly orthodox psychologicaltreatment.

"We,d be rushed out if those self-

regulating principles didn,

t apply.Figure what would happen; we,dget a flood of two-dwllar deposits,sure- but the total would be taxed

to the bone. And since the majoritywouldn

,

t benefit, we wouldn,

t get acent on our '

Agreements., Don,tyou see that we lick the Treasurythe way we operate now ?

"

It's not a

legally-enforceable Agreement-sothe tax boys have no direct checkon whether we get our stipulatedtwo hundred dollars or not. Even

if they had-and I,ve got the bestaccountants in the city snarling uptrails-they could only tax us onthat. Who,s to tell them that our

dear, delighted customers, outfitted, with irresistible dollar-drawing pro-pensities by us, usually fork out alot more ? The kind who like to take

the kudos to themselves invariablypay over the odds-maybe becausethey feel that their little secret willthen be safer. And that extra doughcan

,t be traced-this isn,

t a publiccorporation. It

"s tax-free."

Makeham was obviously preeninghimself. The eyes in his pale faceglowed with self-esteem. Waingroaned.

"Besides," Makeham added, "ifthere was a general rush, we,d be

pirated right and left."

"Smart, smart feller," Wain


grunted. "All the angles, eh?"

"Naturally."Bill Wain felt a desire to boot the

end of Makeham that he couldn'tsee behind the massive desk. Herefrained. He said: "You haven,t

answered my original point-"

Makeham got up. "I have. NowI,ll demonstrate, and prove the an-swer-have you ever thought oftaking the treatment?"

Wain thought. "No. Except,maybe-"

"Except . maybe when I

,m

around ?"

Wain puffed in silence, his honestsquare face impassive.

Makeham went to the door. His

shambling lope had now becomesomething like a strut.

"You,re well-integrated," he said.

"You're reasonably well-satisfiedwith yoursel f. No blocks, inhibitions.You,ve always led the kind of lifethat suited you. Come in here.We'll use the original machine."

He waited.

"They,re your doubts I'm trying

to settle," he said. "You \von,tsuffer a sea-change, 1 assure you.Or maybe you,re scared ?"

Bill Wain rose, bulked his shoul-ders, pointed his pipestem: "Listen,sonny-

"

"That,s fine," Makeham said."Come on in."

When Wain came on out, hepaused to relight his pipe. Make-ham followed. "How d'you feel?Just the same, huh?"

"More so," Wain said briefly.

"Certainly. I told you. You'restable. And.as a customer

, you,

d

bring us in two dollars, minus adollar and a half tax. You,d be aloss."

"Stable?" said Wain. "That'smy temperament-not my person-ality."

And there, as he later had cause

to remark, he hit the steam-hammer

dead-center with the nail.

Makeham wasn,t quite sure whathe meant

, and changed the subject."How about the others?" he

asked. "I,

ve been so tied up Ihaven,t had a personal talk withthem lately."

"

Carlsen,s been on a jag for fourweeks. He says if he sobers up,

he,ll die." And if he goes home,

his wife'll kill him.""J mean-has he taken it?""

Know a lot about your co-part-ners, don

,

t you? No. He hasn'ttaken it. He says unlimited Bacardiis all he needs. I-ittle red mice arechasing him between the 99 Club andthe Plaza. It won*

t be long beforethey catch up. Smeeton and Wrasshave taken it.""I haven't noticed any difference.

"

Bill Wain puffed a savory ring ofsmoke. "You wouldn,

t. I think

you figure all the clocks quit workingwhen you leave this office. It,s made

them more efficient executives, andalso increased their natural pro-clivities. They both have threesecretaries apiece now. All blondes.But that's all. There,s another di-

rector of this circus that you haven,

t

P-PI-US 127

seemed very curious about-BraeMason."

"Why should I be curious?""

Because you,re still slightlypeeved he stood out in the first place.You don*t like to remember him."

Makeham laughed. "You"ve a

very natural tendency to oppose myartificial personality to that of theyoung man who was your aptjournalistic pupil, the white-hairedboy of Teleglobe. I notice he*s keptwell away from here.

"

"So?" Bill Wain grinned. "Hewas here yesterday, when you wereout. *Where the wind listeth,' hesaid

, 'there I goeth., We walked

around for a while. We wanted to

prove a point, too. He did."

"But the treatment-?""Yes-I put him through the

Engramat. That*s how he provedhis point."

Makeham sat down rather sud-

denly. "What was his point?"Bill Wain shrugged, on his way to

the door. "He didn,t have to remind

me that my old job was still open.I know it is. I,m not worried either

way. Engramat isn>t top-heavy-yet.

"

He closed the door before Make-

ham could ask more questions.

Senator Firbrick became sus-

picious the morning his quiet, self-effacing but efficient secretarybreezed into the office, backslappedgenially all round-including thechoking senator himself-announcedhe was lighting out for a livelier job,and breezed out.

A private detective hired by thesenator traced back his movements,

which included a visit to the local

P-Plus establishment.

A clipping agency and dilligentinvestigation along other lines pro-vided the senator with ammunition

for an emergency motion."Mr. Chairman," he pompoused,

"

I shall not be putting it too stronglyif,I say that the facts I have corre-lated reveal an insidious threat to

the economic and political stabilityof this country, doubly dangerousbecause it is disguised behind ascreen of the principles of privateand individual enterprise which arcthe bedrock of our prosperity-prin-ciples which it seeks to subvert-

"

After five minutes' preamble onthese lines, Senator Firbrick gotdown to a few of his "facts."

"Throughout the country, men,hitherto unknown, are thrustingthemselves into positions of public,professional and business responsi-bility-positions for which they haveno training, for which they haveserved no apprenticeship, positionsfor which they may be totally un-

fitted."A sweeper walked into the office

of the president of a mid-Westernmanufacturing corporation, and inten minutes, by devious wiles, verbaldexterity, confusion of issues andwillful misrepresentation, talkedhimself into a tcn-thousand-a-yearj°b.

"A welder in an airplane factory,a man insignificant and unnoticedbefore

, similarly gained himself a


position of trust-a position where,incidentally, he might affect the verysecurity of the nation in time of war.

"A very minor shareholder at acompany meeting in this very citywas elected to the Board without

previous nomination, by a vote ofwildheads whom he apparently bull-dozed into supporting him.

"Local governmental authoritiesin every state are besieged by un-constitutional demands for new

elections from factions roused byupstarts.

"In almost every labor union inthe country, a state of chaos is be-ginning to prevail with rival groupscentered round obscure malcontents

struggling for domination."These are a few instances. There

are thousands. Read for yourselves,with eyes now open to what is hap-pening-an undermining of author-ity by men unnaturally elevatedabove their normal station; a dis-ruption of labor-employer relation-ships; an insidious and wickedcorruption of the very moral fiber ofthe entire country."

His voice rose in billowingrhetoric.

"And what is the mainspring of.this foul attempt to undermine thebasis of our democratic structure,

which is leadership by men electedto positions of trust after they haveproved their fitness to lead ? Whatis the fount of this treasonable in-

surgcncc, this foreign anarchy ofthe spirit, this alien bid to attackour Constitution?

"

I will tell you: it is a companywith offices in Prague and Warsaw-and in my mind there is no doubt

that its inception was even fartherHast-it is a company whose seem-ingly-innocuous advertisements inlocal newspapers are nothing morethan -wickedly cunning propagandaagainst our way of life-an obsceneheresay. P-PIus it has been termedby people ignorant of its real inten-tions-"

Borne aloft on the mountingwaves of his own sophistry, hot-faced Senator Firbrick was pulledup by the bang of a gavel. "Maywe please have a definitive motion ?"Before Firbrick coole

.d off enoughto reply, a young congressman stoodup in the gallery, raised his voice.

"

Why doesn,t someone ask thesenator his real reason for this

tirade ? Isn"t it because his secretarywalked out on him and got a betterjob?"-

There were a few murmurs of"

throw him out." But not many."

The senator,s whole speech,

" the

congressman shouted, "boils down

to this: he figures-it>s unconstitu-

tional for the best man to win, andif he doesn,t use dough to buyhimself into politics-like the sena-tor-it

,

s unnatural and alien!"

Senator Firbrick pointed a trem-bling finger. "You!" he bawled."You . . . you,re a P-Plus!"

"Sure I am. You could do with

a dose yourself, you rattle-brainedold buzzard."

P-PLUS 129

SENATE ORDERS P-PLUSPROBE

P-PLUS CLINICS BESIEGEDA FTER CONGRESSMAN'SADMISSION

POLICE KEEP MILE-LONGPEP PARADES IN CHECK

IN TERN AT ION AL COM PLI-CATIONS WARNS PRESI-DENT

A once-obscure young man whobecame a congressman .and made apublic admission which testified tothe efficacy of P-Plus treatment-that was all that was needed to start

the snowball.

Keep in the swim by breathing.Keep in the swim by going P-Plus.Be fashionable.

A dowager duchess who had beenbawled-out by her P-Plus chauffeurwas trampled to death outside aclinic in London.In a gravely pedantic editorial,a London paper-still a newsprintsheet which scorned telepaper oppo-sition-warned against this deutero-pathic ariscmcnt among the neurosesoi the age-a device which, at itsmost favorable valuation, inducesand disseminates megalomanic ten-dencies."

In a rural constituency of Eng-land

, which was in the throes of ageneral election, a young farmworker rose to heckle one of the

/.if-..;« r.i

.*

a * at


candidates. Sir Arthur Ponsonby-ffoulkes, Dart., J.P.

He talked Sir Arthur oftÿ the plat-form, and the meeting voted unani-mously to accept him as a candidateinstead.

In New York, a freak of crossedlines on an overburdened switch-

board put a great man-in terms ofdollars-through to a sweatingMakeham personally.

Makeham roused himself from

the camp bed in the office where hewas sleeping, groaned into thephone: "Why do you want it?What,s wrong with your person-ality ?"

"Nothing at all. But I understandit tones up the system. Anyway, thefact that I want it should be goodenough for you. How much ?

"

"

.No private appointments. Getin line like the rest. It,s a mile longthis morning. Or pay a million fora machine and operation instruc-tions."

"I can have one stolen for less,"

snarled the billionaire.

He did.

And those who were alreadyP-PIus became P-Double-Plus.

"Why . . . why . . . why?" Make-ham muttered. "You didn,t change,Wain."

Wain smiled. "No. I,m tem-

peramentally stable. And tempera-ment is a facet of character-and

you don,t alter that, for better or

worse. I'm not dominating-so Idon,t dominate."

The international complicationsensued when the Eastern EuropeanFederation, impolitely 1returningSenator Firbrick*s compliment aboutalien ideas, anathemized the P-Plusclinics within its orbit as part of acapitalistic plot aimed at the loyaltyof its citizens, and shut them down.

And after all, the clinics did repre-

sent a lot of American capital. Gen-eral Electronics, who made theEngramats for the corporation, got adiplomatic beef issued through theState Department.

Not that it mattered cither way.Within a few weeks, a very efficientblack market in Engramat treatmentwas operating within the EasternFederation.

A federal bid to close down the

United States clinics during theperiod of the Senate Antitrust Com-mittee probe into Engramat wasdefeated by a tremendous upsurgeof public opinion-concentrated onthe vague "They" of imposed au-thority-"They've all had a crack atthis dingus and now They want tostop Us."

After an all-night session with hisadvisers, and certain manufacturers,the President teeveed an appeal forcalm to the whole nation.

"The entire resources of our arms

and electrical manufacturing indus-tries are to be turned over to the

production of Engramats, whichwill be installed in Federal centers in

every state," he announced.

"Certain countries in Europe mayfeel they have a right to deprive

P-PLUS AST-6J 131

their citizens of its benefits, but notthis country."

An assurance of rapid inoculationagainst a spreading plague couldhardly have been greeted withgreater enthusiasm.

Henry Pipet banged the dborassertively behind him, threw hishat jauntily but accurately overa peg.

Bella Pipet came into the hall-way. Here eyes were cold. Hervoice was cold, although her fattrembled a little.

"Don,t you dare slam the door

like that again," she said with flatvehemence.

"Who you giving that stuff to ?"he demanded

, a little uneasily. "I

told you before-it,

s my door."

"I won,t argue with you, HenryPipet. You,re late. Your din-ner

,s cold. And you can getupstairs and change before you catit."

"Uh?""You heard me."

"Yes, dear," said Henry Pipet.He had a hundred thoughts whichsuddenly, curiously, he was unableto express. The magnet obeyedthe stronger magnet. He wentupstairs.

. . The guy,s a punk. Callshimself a comic. I get biggerlaughs at the club. Don't sec whatanyone ever saw in his act. Onething

,s sure-he's out of big-time."

. . And so I put the police

onto him, my dear-trying to soakme for more money for that dumbclairvoyant act-the idea. Can'tthink how I ever fell for it thefirst time."

"

. . . Our very latest model,madam. You,re not interested?But listen

, lady-what? Oh, wedon,t do that kind of exchange.This washing machine-wassat ?But I don,t WANT your oldradio

, lady. Oh, sure, but-oh?That so? Well, maybe-"

"

I put every cent of my own backin it," said Makeham -miserably."And there's been no Federal com-

pensation. It,

s not patentable. Andon top of everything, Dorothy has towalk out on me. She wants adivorce."

"Tut tut." Brae Mason alliter-

ated unfeelingly: "Dough and thedesirable Dorothy Dillo go together.You should know that." He turnedto Wain.

Bill Wain grinned. "Not me,Brae Mason. I told you-it wasjust a holiday. It paid off."

Mason made himself comfortable

in the best siteasy in the most lux-urious office of the drowned, de-funct and desolate Engramat Cor-poration.

"What's going to be the end ofit ?" groaned Makeham.

"The beginning," said Masonsimply.

"What do you mean?""Just that. There,ll be a new

norm, of course, but nothing with


which to compare it. Within a fewmonths every civilized person on theglobe will have had a shot of P-Plus.And that,ll leave everyone right backwhere they started."

"What arc you talking about?"Makeham's face was strained. "I,mnot the same."

"You will be. I,ve been boningup on the subject. You changedthe bodily components of personality-the patterns of neurones.

But

you didn'

t change character.""That,s what I told him," Bill

Wain said."Sure-that,s the nub. Person-

ality is an instrument of character-not vice-versa. And you can onlychange character by self-striving-or choosing the right parents. Prettysoon you

,

ll be surrounded again bypeople who have the edge over youin character-integration-like dearDorothy."

Makcham stuttered: "But theneuroses I s-s-suffcred-those were

p-put right-"

"And they,re rapidly coming backagain. You

,ll have the same old

feeling of inadequacy, your self-regard will begin to disappear, theinferiority complexes will creep inagain-and you

,ll be a flock of little

neuroses."It,s the environment that mat-

ters, and the innate character. Ifyou wanted to stay P-Plus, youshould have kept the Engramat toyourself or busted it after yourtreatment.

"By letting everyone have it-all right, maybe you didn

,t, but theeffect,

s the same-the level of per-sonality has been changed, but inperfect ratio to the ability of thecharacter to utilize that personality.

"Big fish will still cat little fish.If you want to retain any benefitsof the treatment, find yourself adesert island away from strongercharacters-or yank at your boot-straps before you become submergedagain."

Makcham stiffened himself."That,s crazy. I still feel reasonablyself-assured."

"Uh-huh?" Mason got up, Hexedlazily. "C,mon out from behind thatdesk. I want somewhere to put myfeet up."

"I ... I won,t. It,s a ridiculous

point. I-"

"Move, worm."Makcham moved

, stumbling alittle.

Mason lowered himself into thevacated chair

, rested his feet on thedesk, and gazed placidly up at theceiling.

He murmured: "Once-upon-a-time-thcre-was-a-rabbit-who-took-a-

pep-pill-and-sockcd-a-wol f."

lie fixed Makeham with benigneyes. "You can write a sequel tothat old story now. You know theanswer to the implied question:

"What happens if the wolf takesa pep pill, too?"

THE END

P-PLUS 133

CODED SPEECH

BY C. RUDMORE

To Mr. J. Q. Public, the subject of noise-electronic noise-

seems unimportant. But that'

s thanks to the immense efforts

made to keep it out of his ears, his radio, and his telephone-expensive efforts for which, inevitably, J. Q. Public pays. Thetrick is; can ive get a cheaper method of getting rid of noise?

To send speech signals over atelephone line by a code has beena sort of alchemist,s dream since

A. G. Bell first perfected the "speak-

ing telegraph". A code system mightbe desired for various reasons, butwe wish to speak here mainly of one-to get rid of interference and dis-tortion. The general notion is thatit is easier to clean up a distortedcode than it is to clean up distortedspeech. This is because each codestands for a certain small range ofsignal values, and if we pick thecode which is nearest to the dis-torted one

, we won,t make a mistake

unless the distortion amounts tomore than half the difference be-tween adjacent codes*. That leavesus with just one source of errorthe difference between the code and

the original speech, and we can make

that so small as to be unobjectionableif we take the codes close enoughtogether.

Coding is particularly valuable inpulse transmission schemes. As wesaw in the previous article "Talkingon Pulses," we can transmit speechperfectly well by sending samples,provided the samples are taken closeenough together. For commercialtelephones, the minimum time sepa-ration is one hundred twenty-fivemicroseconds-one microsecond-one

millionth of a second-which means

that at least eight thousand samplesmust be sent each second. In pulsetransmission systems, these samplesare sent to the receiver in the form

of pulses. It is possible to makethe height of each pulse proportionalto the height of the sample it repre-sents, but this is not usually done bc-


cause it makes the system too sensi-tive to changes in gain. A moresatisfactory way is to shift the timeof occurrence of a pulse by anamount proportional to the sample-so-called pulse position modulation(PPM). A high degree of immunityto disturbance is thus obtained be-

cause we don'

t care how big the re-ceived pulse is; we are interestedonly in when it happens. The noiseor disturbance does get in its effecthowever because it changes slightlythe time at which the pulse appearsto start, and even if we generate anew clean pulse locally, the timingis slightly off. If we repeat thepulse many times to cover a longdistance, we get an accumulation

of errors such that even a small

error in one link can grow to alarge intolerable error for the com-plete system.

To realize a system in whichpulses can be recreated without errorand an indefinite number of repeaterstations can be used with as gooda signal out of the last as went intothe first we introduce the codingprinciple. The first public announce-ment of this principle, which is calledPCM for "pulse code modulation"or "pulse count modulation" was

made at a joint meeting of theAmerican Section of the Interna-tional Scientific Radio Union and

the Institute of Radio Engineers onMay 5, 1947 at Washington, D. C.

f/G / fIoL.es in ApertvK£ P'-are of" PeEK ti - Bop " Tvtsc Fox 3 -pio/r Cop/nG

CODED SPEECH 135

Papers on the subject were pre-sented by representatives of the BellTelephone Laboratories of NewYork and the Coles Signal Labora-tory of Red Bank, New Jersey.Some further disclosures were made

at the summer meeting of the Amer-ican Institute of Electrical Engineersin June, 1947. Brief articles appear-ed in the Bell Laboratories Record

of July, 1947, and in the Bell Sys-tem Technical Journal of the samedate. A demonstration of a work-

ing system was given at a meetingof the Institute of Radio Engineersat New York City, October 1, 1947.Enough has now been revealed tomake a discussion of some of the

general principles possible.A basic part of the new art is the

notion of "quantizing" the magni-tudes of signals. We are really bor-rowing a term here from modernphysics and using it in much thesame way. In quantum mechanicsas applied to the theory of the atom,not all values of the co-ordinates de-scribing the electron are permitted,but only certain preferred ones chos-en according to definite rules. Thereason physicists assume these mag-nitudes to be quantized is that re-sults may then be calculated whichfit the experimentally observedfacts. In communication on the

other hand, quantizing is done bydeliberate choice to secure a specificbenefit. Quantizing enables us tosuppress the effect of noise and dis-tortion provided it is smaller thanhalf of the difference between two

adjacent steps.

136

We might think of quantizing asa generalization of Procrustes, lied.

Procrustes, as you may recall, wasthe old cuss with the standard size

bed, which he insisted on fitting tohis victims. If the victim was too

long he was cut down to size, andif too short, a painful stretchingprocess was ordered. This could beconsidered as one step quantization,in which all signals come out thesame size. It would be no good forspeech transmission, although youmight be surprised how much youcould understand if only one morestep were added, so that all signalswere reduced to two sizes. Speechis durable stuff and if you don't minddistortion you can get a lot of in-formation over a very bad system.For a truly satisfactory grade ofspeech quality, however, we needabout a hundred different magni-tudes, so the modern speech quanti-zer might be regarded as a group ofone hundred Procrustean discipleseach with his own bed, but with thesizes carefully graded. Provided thevictim were not a gaint or a midget,one of the beds could be found which

need cost him only a slight scalpingor stretch-out.

In the case of commercial speechtransmission, one hundred properlychosen values of voltage would takecare of all telephone users from theloudest shouter down to the weakest

mumbler well enough so that theywould not realize that their magni-tudes were being restricted. Withonly one hundred distinct values .be-

ASTOUNDING S CI E N CE - FICT ION

ing transmitted, noise need not causean error until it exceeds half of the

smallest step. When the noise docsproduce a change of more than halfa step it may do either one of twothings-it may add on a half stepto the true value and cause the re-

ceiver to register the next higherstep, or it may subtract a half stepand push the value down into thenext lower zone. What we should

do then is to keep our noise levelbelow the critical value at which

error begins. If each repeater in aradio relay system is working abovethe critical noise level and sendingout new pulses which arc free fromnoise, no errors can accrue. The onlyerrors are those which were put inby quantizing and since these do notgrow they are just as innocuous forone thousand repeaters as for one.

Published details about actual

quantizing processes are so far rath-er skimpy. The reader familiar withthe electronic art will doubtless think

of many ways of measuring voltagesand classifying them into discreteamplitude ranges. It is a sortingprocess with which we are familiarin many industries, for instancegrading the size of coal or prunes.The only difference is that we mustdo the sorting very fast, for we haveat least eight thousand samples tograde every second from each speechchannel. We shall take a look at

some specific methods after we havediscussed the objectives more fully.

Let,s suppose then that we areable to sort our specch voltage sam-

ples into say one hundred differentsizes. This means that we can make

our pulses ride through noise whichdocs not throw us off more than one

half of one percent of our largestsize. This is still a relatively smalldisturbance

, and we would like towork through much worse condi-tions. We take a tip here from ourfamiliar number system, which docsnot use one hundred distinct symbolsto count to one hundred. As we all

know we have ten different figuresand when we have used them all in-dividually, we start another columnand begin over again. In terms ofpulses, this means that if our meas-ured sample were say in size No. 67,

we could send one pulse of sixty-seven volts, but it might be better tosend two pulses, one of six voltsfollowed by one of seven volts.

This

would give the same information,

and to cover one hundred steps, thesmallest unit would be ten percentof the largest unit so that we couldstand a five percent disturbancewithout making a mistake. The onlypenalty is that we have to send twiceas many pulses. The improvementgoing from oh point five percentnoise tolerance to five percent is sub-stantial

, but is not the best we cando. After all

, the decimal systembased 011 the number ten was adopt-ed rather accidentally by man. Somesay it happened that way because hefirst counted on his fingers

In PCM we go all the way downto a number system based on twoinstead of ten. This means there areonly two kinds of pulses to be sent

CODED SPEECH 137

and recognized. One correspondsto the number 0 and the other to

the number 1. In a PCM-AM sys-tem where the number zero is de-

signated by sending no pulse at alland the number unity by sending apulse of the full power of the radiotransmitter, we need not make anerror if we can keep the noise peaksfrom reaching half of the signal pulseheights. This is on the assumptionthat pulses arc recognized by asliccr set to operate at half the sig-nal peak, which is a reasonable placeto work. Note that the tolerable

disturbance has thereby been raisedto fifty percent and the number ofpulses we have to send for each sam-ple has been increased to seven. Thelatter number comes from the fact

that two raised to the seventh poweris 12S, the power of two which isnearest to our assumed one hundreddistinct numbers. The bandwidth

needed is directly proportional to thenumber of pulses per sample. Com-paring cases of sending one pulsewith one hundred different values,

and sending seven pulses with twodifferent values per pulse, we in-crease our margin over noise byone hundred-fold at the expense ofa seven-fold increment in bandwidth.

Not even FM buys advantage overnoise from excess bandwidth at such

a bargain rate.It is instructive to look at the

business of counting in two& or inmore elegant language, the binarysystem, as distinguished from thedecimal system. It is what we wouldhave to use if we had only two sym-

bols for numbers, 0 and 1. "Wewould start in the same way as inour decimal system and write downthe numbers 0 and 1 with the same

significance as they always have had.But when we come to the next num-ber which we now call two, wewould have to write it as 10, for thefigures 2 to 9 inclusive are not avail-able. Three become 11, and then wehave to start another . column andwrite four as 100. Five is 101, sixis 110, seven 111, and eight 1000.That is probably enough to get theidea.

Binary counting is quite old andis a natural for any process built upon only two distinct conditions. Thefamous mathematician Boole used itin the nineteenth century as a toolfor satisfying himself as to the truthof Spinoza's propositions in philoso-phy. By using the symbol unity torepresent "true", and "zero" torepresent "false" Boole was able to

get at the truth or falsity of com-plicated statements without tyinghis brain into knots. Relay algebrais a fairly recent application of thebinary system. A relay in telephonecircuit language is a switch, and itmay be either open or closed. Bytaking 0 to represent open and 1to represent closed, it is possible todesign and analyze complicated cir-cuits using a lot of relays. The re-sults secured that way are almost asgood as the answers a veteran ma-chine switching man pulls out of hishead without being able to explainhow he does it. The binary principlehas also been used in special types


of computing machines, which donot get fatigued repeating a largenumber of simple operations. Itis also an interesting if unimportantfact that winning combinations atthe game called Xim, in which play-ers take turns drawing from threepiles of matches, can be calculatedreadily by means of binary notation.

We can now explain the origin ofthe word "code" in Pulse Code Mod-

ulation. The signals are not onlyquantized but coded in sequences ofon or off pulses. Electronic meansfor doing these operations at thetransmitter and retranslating backto the original signal form at thereceiver have been providng a happyhunting ground for the inventor forsome time. For an early disclosurecontaining the germs of many ideaswhich are used, the reader interestedin circuit details is referred to U.S.Patent No. 2

,272

,070, issued toA

. H. Reeves, February 3, 1942.Descriptions of more recent develop-ments are just beginning to be re-leased, and a watchful eye on thetechnical periodicals in the next fewmonths will be rewarded with manyinteresting tricks in circuitry.

The methods demonstrated by en-gineers of the Bell Laboratories atthe before mentioned meeting of theInstitute of Radio Engineers areparticularly intriguing. The opera-tions of quantizing and coding areperformed by a single cathode raytube-jestingly referred to by thechairman of the meeting at which itwas described as the "peek-a-boo"

tube. We recall than an ordinarycathode ray tube consists of an elec-tron gun which shoots a beam ofelectrons between two pairs of de-flection plates. One pair is hori-zontal and the voltage applied be-tween these plates controls the verti-cal deflection of the beam. The

other pair is vertical and the voltagebetween them controls the horizontal

deflection of the beam. The beamstrikes a fluorescent screen after

passing between the deflecting platesand a bright spot appears at thepoint of impact. This bright spotis an approximation to a mathemati-cal point with x-co-ordinate fixedby the voltage on one pair of platesand the y-co-ordinate by the volt-age on the other pair. We can thusplot curves on the face of the tubeby applying deflection voltage rep-resenting the quantities to be plotted.

To make a PCM coding tube*, we

rcplace the fluorescent screen by ametal plate with an arra>' of holescut out as shown in Figure 1. Weshow the arrangement for a three-digit coder, but this will make clearhow to do the case of a larger num-ber of digits. The holes allow theelectron beam to go through andstrike another plate beyond. Theelectrons striking the second plateconstitute the current output fromthe tube. The signal voltage isimpressed on the plates controllingthe vertical deflection. The beam is

thereby moved upward to the pointX with the vertical distance from the

0 mark to X proportional to thesignal. For the horizontal deflec-

CODKD SPEECH 139

tion, we impress a "sawtooth" sweep

voltage-the kind which builds upgradually from zero to enough voltsto dcflect the beam clear across the

plate, and then quickly falls back tozero. The beam, therefore, moves

uniformly across the plate at a heightdetermined by the signal. The "fly-back" or quick return of the beammay be made of no consequence bykilling the vertical deflection voltageduring this short recovery interval.

hi Figure 1 suppose it takes eightvolts of signal to move the beamfrom the bottom to the top of theplate. The dashed line XY indi-cates the path of the beam for thesignal of six point five volts. Therearc three columns of hole§. As thebeam enters at the six point five voltvertical scale position on the left itencounters a hole in the first column

and produces a pulse of current onthe plate beyond. It likewise en-counts another hole in the second

column and produces another pulse.But it passes between the holes inthe third column and produces nopulse in this position. If we desig-nate a pulse by

"1" and "no pulse"

by "0" the sequence of two pulses

.The "one world" ©f scientific progress it neatlyillustratod by o recent publication out of Gormonyin which a lube of quite similar type is proposed(or the some purpose by F. Schroter, the Ger.i>« ntelevision expert.

followed by a blank is 110, which

is the number "6" in binary nota-tion. The six point five-volt signalis thus coded as one of six volts.

The arrangement of holes is seento l>e such that any voltage between140

0 and S volts is automatically sortedinto the proper one of eight differ-ent codes. That is, such would bethe case if it were not for the usualannoying little difficulties which in-variably crop up whenever we tryto put a bright idea into practice.

The first trouble to be noticed is

that the signal voltage may changewhile the beam is traveling acrossthe tube. The change might beenough to cause the beam to wanderinto ihe code slot adjacent to theone it initially selected. It thuscould start to deliver one code andwind up delivering another one.

This could produce a big error.For example if the signal were fourpoint one volts at the beginning ofthe sweep, the beam would start on

a path between four point oh andfive point oh volts. If after the firsthole were passed the signal voltagedropped to three point nine volts,

the beam would slide down into thespace between three point oh andfour point oh volts. The result wouldl»c a total of three pulses for thesweep or the code 111 meaningseven point oh volts. This wouldmean an error of approximatelythree volts, a far greater error thanif the beam had stayed in the origi-nal slot all the way. This possibilityof a big error from signal changeduring the sweep may be eliminatedby a sampling and holding circuit inthe signal path. The signal is notconnected to the deflection platesall the time, but is sampled just be-fore the beginning of the sweep. Thesampled value is held constant on the

ASTOUXDINC SCIENCE-FICTION

deflection plates during the sweep.Sampling and holding arc accom-

plished by an electronic clamp. Avacuum tube is inserted between the

signal source and a condenser. Abiasing voltage applied to the gridof the tube blocks the How of cur-

rent to the condenser except duringthe brief sampling intervals when alarge unblocking grid pulse is ap-plied. The condenser charges upquickly to the signal voltage duringthe sampling interval. It then musthold this voltage until the next sam-pling time, for there is no dischargepath when the tube is blocked. Thevoltage 011 the condenser can beapplied to the grid of an amplifiertube and delivered in enhanced form

from the output of the amplifier tothe deflecting plates of the codcr.The condenser may be dischargedquickly at the end of the sweep byan auxiliary discharge tube, but thisis not necessary if a two-way clampis provided. In the latter arrange-ment a pair of oppositely poled tubesis used in parallel in the chargingcircuit so that the condenser mayeither charge up to the signal volt-age through one tube or dischargedown to the signal voltage throughthe other

, depending on whether thenew sample is lugger or smaller thanthe one just preceding it.

We are now ready to look atanother difficulty. Suppose the sig-nal voltage

ÿ were held at a" value

very near to the dividing line be-tween two adjacent codes. Theelectrons constituting the beam do

not strike the target in a geometric. point but are actually spread over adefinite area. This means there

could be some electrons hitting theplate below the division line at thesame time others are hitting above.What kind of a code would then besent? To avoid a case of electronic

schizophrenia, something new mustbe added to make the choice of codes

always definite. Here is a case whereit is better to be wrong than not tomake a decision at all. The solution

is found here by stringing wiresparallel to the code division lines.These wires are placed in the path ofthe beam some distance before the

target is struck If the beam hits awire, the wire emits secondary elec-trons. These secondary electronsare attracted to a postively chargedcollector plate. The resultant volt-age on the collector plate is am-plified and added to the vertical de-flection voltage. The result is thatthe beam is pushed away from thewire. The beam thus can not stayin contact with a wire and hence

must find a stable position betweenthe wires. A small amount of bias

added at the right time helps it tomake up its mind. This means thebeam has to stay within the bounda-ries of one code for each held sampleof signal-there is no region of con-fusion.

The coding tube announced bythe Hell Laboratories has seven col-

umns of holes in the aperture plateand can generate one hundredtwenty-eight different codes. Ademonstration was given of trans-

CODED SPEECH 141

mission of music with over one

thousand different steps, whichwould require ten digits. It wasstated that the same coding tubewas used, but the method of in-creasing the number of steps wasnot explained

We next turn to the problem ofdecoding the pulse at the receiver.Here again many methods mightbe used, but we will content our-selves with describing one-the onebased on the exponential dischargeof a condenser through a resistance.By "exponential" we mean that dur-ing equal time intervals the voltageon a condenser with a resistance con-nected across its terminals drops

, tothe same fraction of the value it had

at the beginning of the interval. Thefraction depends on the "time con-stant

" or the product of capacitanceand resistance. By suitable choiceof the "time constant

"

, we can makethe

'

condenser discharge to half itsinitial value in the time interval oc-

cupied by one PCM digit pulse.During the time assigned to the nextdigit pulse another drop of one halfwill occur reducing the voltage toone fourth that of the beginning ofthe first pulse interval, and so on.Suppose the original signal was sixpoint five volts. As shown in Fig-ure 1, this results in the coded se-quence 110 when the sweep is fromleft to right. It was convenient toassume this sweep direction whenexplaining the notation, but wecould just as well sweep from rightto left giving the sequence 011 inour assumed case. To send the low

digit pulses first is more convenientwhen decoding with the condenser-resistance combination. Supposethe train of pulses at the receiveris Oil, and that a quick-chargingcircuit is connected between the

pulses and the condenser at the mid-point of each pulse position. Be-tween these instants, the condenserdischarges through its resistance inaccordance with the exponential law.During the first interval no pulse isreceived and no charge is deliveredto the condenser. During the secondinterval the condenser receives a

charge of let us say four volts whichdecays to a value of one half that ortwo volts at the time the next pulseactuates the charging circuit. Thethird pulse delivers a charge of fourvolts. The total voltage is then sixvolts which is the corrcct dccoded

value. It can be measured by asampling circuit and fed to the re-ceiving channel output. To takeanother example suppose the signalsample is 7.2 volts putting the sweepin the top slot. This gives the code111 whichever way we sweep it.In the receiver three pulses of fourvolts each hit the condenser at stag-gered times. The first decreases toone fourth this value or one volt.The second decreases to one halfor two volts The third one is sam-

pled immediately giving a total offour plus two plus one or seven volts,again the correct decoded value.

We have thus far talked about

quantized steps of equal size. Asa matter of fact if we have a limited

number of steps available such as


one hundred twenty-eight and awide range of talkers to handle,dividing the steps equally may notbe the best thing to do at all. Ifone subscriber talks in a quiet con-

fidential tone and another shouts

at the top of his lungs, we have aproblem on our hands designing aquantizing scale suitable for both.Even in the case of a single talker,there is a great difference betweenconsonant and vowel sounds as far

as the corresponding electrical volt-ages produced arc concerned, and weshould have some steps availablefor each. The solution is found em-

pirically by tapering the steps. Bestresults occur when many more stepsare provided for weak sounds thanarc used near the peaks of strongsounds. When the speech soundsare loud

, bigger errors can be tol-erated. The statement about usingone hundred twenty-eight steps togive satisfactory speech quality isonly true if the steps are taperedseverely, with the steps around zerovalue of the impressed signal verymuch smaller than those near the

peaks reached by the loudest talker.The tapering could have been

done by grading the size of holes in

INSTRUMENT DIVISION

417 W. 12TH AVENUE DENVER 4. COLORADO

THE NEWXB-4

will help find otomic ores in the field. TheX8-4 will detect the presence of rodium on awotch diol . . . Radioactive ores ore neces-

sory to develop otomic research: You con help.Outstanding XB-4 features: Rugged construc-tion. Lightweight 13 lbs.). High sensitivity.Low bottery cost.

Comes complete, ready to use, guoronteed.

- Only 2%High Sensitivity Q j

Low Battery CostRugged Construction

POSTPAID

CODED SPEECH 143

the aperture plate of the coding tube.This is a difficult mechanical job.Either the tube would have to be

made much bigger to accommodatethe bigger holes, or the smallest sizeholes would have to be shrunk to

near-microscopic dimension. It wasfound easier >to do the tapering inthe electrical circuit by inserting acompressor ahead of the coding tubeat the transmitter, and a comple-mentary expander after the decoderat the receiver. The compressor con-sists of silicon crystals shuntedacross the line. These crystals havea fairly high resistance and do notdisturb the line when the signal isweak. When the signal is stronghowever, the crystal resistance is de-creased by the larger curÿnts flow-ing through them and the shuntingloss is increased. The result is that

the voltage on the coder docs notincrease as fast as the original signalvoltage, and the effect is the sameas if the holes in the aperture platewidened toward the end of the tube

readied by the beam when the signalis large.

At the receiver the same crystalarrangement is used but this timeit is placed in the negative feed-back path of an amplifer. Negativefeedback means that a portion of theoutput of an amplifier is used to buckthe input and thereby reduce thegain. When weak signals are appliedto the crystals they produce smallloss and the bucking action is strong.When the signal is stronger thecrystals cause loss in the feedback

path and there is less bucking. Theamplifier thus has more gain forstrong signals than for weak andhence expands the output to com-pensate for the compression whichtook place at the transmitter.

We have not even mentioned yetone of the most difficult problems ofall-the synchronizing of systemssuch as PCM, that is, making thereceiver keep step with the trans-mitter. The incoming wave to thereceiver represents a string of pulsesrepresenting say seven digit posi-tions for each of a considerable num-

ber of channels. The time allotted

for each digit pulse is one and a halfmillionths of a second for twelve

speech channels in time division.If the time were divided amongone hundred channels, -each digitpulse would be allotted less thantwo ten millionths of a second. Atthe receiver we must not make an

error in the timing of one digit.In effect we must set up clocks atthe transmitter and receiver which

will keep time to within better thana millionth of a second of each other.

What the practical limit is in thisrespect remains to be determined.

The Bell Telephone Laboratoriesdemonstrated a PCM system withgroups of twelve channels in timedivision. To get more thantwelve channels provision was madefor sending similar groups on ad-jacent frequency bands so that acombination of time division and

frequency division was employed.

144 ASTOUNDING SCI F. N CE-FI CTION

The synchronizing was accom-plished by means of a very precisequartz crystal band filter tuned tothe pulse repetition frequency- When£his filter is actuated by pulses it re-sponds at the proper frequency, andwhen 110 pulses arrive it coasts at thesame frequency until the next pulsecomes along. From the output ofthis filter the timing framework ofthe receiver is built. Slicers and

gates remove the disturbing effectsof noise on the accuracy of the"clock"

. The clock now runs at

the right rate, but it still remainsto "set" it

, so that the digits aredelivered to the right positions andeach channel comes out at the rightgate. With seven digits per chan-nel and twelve channels

, there are

eighty-four different settings of thereceiver of which eighty-three arewrong.

The right position is found bymarking one pulse. The smallestdigit of channel 1 of Group 1 isborrowed leaving six-digit qualityon that channel. This digit is forcedto be alternately off and on in suc-cessive frames. No other digit cando this because the low pass filtersin the channel inputs do not allowpassage of frequencies high enoughto change digits at this rate. A cir-cuit is furnished which is sensitive

to the on-and-off pulse alternation.

When it gets the proper response thesystem is locked in step; when theresponse is missing the timing is

allowed to slip a notch and anothertrial made. The maximum search

time even if the first eighty-threetrials are unsuccessful is of the or-der of one tenth of a second. The"hunting" only happens after a sys-tem failure or shutdown and itself

produces no noticeable break in con-tinuity of service.

The apparatus we have discussedrepresents only a few exploratoryskirmishes with the problem of com-municating by pulses. Future ad-vances will probably bring muchhigher operating speeds and muchshorter pulses. Wider transmissionbands will be needed and here the

recently developed traveling waveamplifier tube may find a field ofgreat usefulness. Measuring gearof even more incredible precisionwill be required, and new principleswill likely be made use of to satisfythese demands. Consider for exam-

ple the problem of sending televisionby PCM. A modern television chan-nel requires a band of four to fivemegacycles so that the samplingrate for any pulse method of trans-mission must be of the order of ten

million times per second. If weneeded as many as five digits for ourquantizing, the pulse rate would befifty million per second for a onechannel system. A twelve-channeltelevision group adds up to six hun-dred million pulses per second. Itsounds fantastic

, but don,t bet itwon

,t be done!

THE END

CODED SPEECH 145

LETTER TO A PHOENIX

BY FREDRIC BROWN

The Phoenix had one way to immortality-a painful way.No man, as an individual, is immortal, yet we arc immortal

through descendants. But races? They,re strictly mortal-

llluilratod by Or ban

There is much to tell you, so muchthat it is difficult to know where to

begin. Fortunately, I have forgot-ten most of the things that have hap-pened to me. Fortunately, the mindhas a limited capacity for remember-ing. It would be horrible if I re-membered the details of a hundred

and eighty thousand years-the de-tails of four thousand lifetimes tliat

I have lived since the first greatatomic war.

Not that I have forgotten thereally great moments. I rememberbeing on the first expedition to landon Mars and the third to land onVenus. I remember-I believe it

was in the third great war-the blast-ing of Skoro from the sky by aforce that compares to nuclear fissionas a- nova compares to our slowlydying sun. I was second in commandof a Hyper-A Class spacer in thewar against the second extragalactfcinvaders, the ones who establishedbases on Tupe,s moons before we

knew we were there and then almost

drove us out of the Solar System be-fore we found the one weapon theycouldn,

t stand up against. So theyfled where we"couldn>t follow them

,

then, outside of the Galaxy. Whenwe did follow them, about fifteenthousand years later, they weregone. They were dead three thou-sand years.

And that is what I want to tell

you about-that mighty race and theothers-but first, so that you willknow how I know what I know

, Iwill tell you about myself.

I am not immortal. There is onlyone immortal being in the universe;of it, more anon. Compared to it,I am of no importance, but you willnot understand or believe what I

say to you unless you understandwhat I am.

There is little in a name, and thatis a fortunate thing-for I do notremember mine. That is less strangethan you think, for a hundred and


eighty thousand years is a long timeand for one reason or another I have

changed my name a thousand timesor more. And what could matter

loss than the name my parents gaveme a hundred and eighty thousandyears ago?

I, am not a mutant. What hap-

LETTER TO A PHOENIX

pcned to me happened when I wastwenty-three years old, during thefirst atomic war. The first war, thatis, in which both sides used atomicweapons-puny weapons, of course,compared to subsequent ones. It wasless than a score of years after th:discovery of the atom bomb. The

147

first bombs were dropped in a minorwar while I was still a child. Theyended that war quickly for only oneside had them.

The first atomic war wasn,t a bad

one-the first one never is. I was

lucky for, if it had been a bad one-one which ended a civilization-I'd

not have survived it despite the bio-logical accident th.it happened to me.If it had ended a civilization, Iwouldn"t have been kept alive duringthe sixteen-year sleep period I wentthrough about thirty years later. Butagain I get ahead of the story.

I was, I believe, twenty or twenty-one years old when the war started.They didn,t take me for the armyright away because I was not physi-cally fit. I was suffering from arather rare disease of the pituitarygland-Somebody

,

s syndrome. I've

forgotten the name. It caused obesity,among other things. I was aboutfifty pounds overweight for myheight and had little stamina. I wasrejected without a second thought.

About two years later my diseasehad progressed slightly, but otherthings had progressed more thanslightly. By that time the army wastaking anyone; they,d have taken aone-legged one-armed blind man ifhe was willing to fight. And I waswilling to fight. I'd lost my familyin a dusting, I hated my jt>b in awar plant, and I had been told bydoctors that my disease was incur-able and I had only a year or twoto live in any case. So I went to148

what was left of the army, and whatwas left of the army took me withouta second thought and sent me to thenearest front, which was ten milesaway. I was in the fighting oneday after I joined.

Now I remember enough to knowthat I hadn,t anything to do with it,but it happened that the time Ijoined was the turn of the tide. Theother side was out of bombs and dust

and getting low on shells and bul-lets. We were out of bombs and

dust, too, but they hadn,t knockedout all of our production facilitiesand we,d got just about all of theirs.We still had planes to carry them,too, and we still had the semblanceof an organization to send the planesto the right places. Nearly the rightplaces, anyway; sometimes we drop-ped them too close to our own troopsby mistake. It was a week after I'dgot into the fighting that I got outof it again-knockcd out of it by oneof our smaller bombs that had been

dropped about a mile away.I came to, about two weeks later,

in a base hospital, pretty badlyburned. By that time the war wasover, except, for the mopping up,and except for restoring order andgetting the world started up again.You see, that hadn't been what Icall a blow-up war. It killed off-I'm just guessing; I don

,t remem-

ber the fraction-about a fourth or a

fifth of the world,s population. Therewas enough productive capacity left,and there were enough people left,to keep on going; there were darkages for a few centuries, but there


was no return to savagery, no start-ing over again. In such times,people go back to using candles forlight and burning wood for fuel, butnot because they don,t know how to

use electricity or mine coal; but be-cause the confusions and revolutions

keep them off balance for a while.The knowledge is there, in abeyance,until order returns.

It,s not like a blow-up war, whennine-tenths or more of the populationof Earth-or of Earth and the other

planets-is killed. Then is when theworld reverts to utter savagery andthe hundredth generation rediscov-ers metals to tip their spears.

But again I digressed. After Irecovered consciousness in the hos-

pital, I was in pain for a long time.There were

, by then, no more an-aesthetics. T had deep radiationburns, from which I suffered almostintolerably for the first few monthsuntil, gradually, they healed. I didnot sleep-that was the strange thing.And it was a terrifying thing, then,for I did not understand what had

happened to me, and the unknown isalways terrifying. The doctors paidlittle heed-for I was one of millions

burned or otherwise injured- andI think they did not believe my state-ments that T had not slept at all.They thought I had slept but littleand that I was either exaggeratingor making an honest error. But Ihad not slept at all. I did not sleepuntil long after I left the hospital,cured. Cured

, incidentally, of thedisease of my pituitary gland, and

with my weight back to normal, myhealth perfect.

I didn,t sleep for thirty years.Then / did slccf>, and I slept forsixteen years. And at the end ofthat forty-six year period, I was still,physically, at the apparent age oftwenty-three,

Do you begin to see what had hap-pened as I began to sec it then ? Theradiation-or combination of typesof radiation-I had gone through,

had radically changed the functionsof my pituitary. And there wereother factors involved. I studied

endocrinology once, about a hundred

and fifty thousand years ago, and Ithink I found the pattern. If mycalculations were correct

, what hap-pened to me was one chance in abillion.

The factors of decay and agingwere not eliminated

, of course, butthe rate was reduced by about fifteenthousand times. I age at the rate ofone day every forty-five years. SoI am not immortal. I have agedeleven years in the past hundred andeighty millennia. My physical ageis now thirty-four.

And forty-five years is to me as aday. I do not sleep for about thirtyyears of it-then I sleep for about

fifteen. It is well for me that myfirst few "days" were not spent in aperiod of complete social disorgani-zation or savagery, else I would nothave survived my first few sleeps.But I did survive them and by thattime I had learned a system andcould take care of my own survival.Since then, I have slept about four

LETTER TO A PHOENIX 149

thousand times, and I have survived.Perhaps someday I shall be unlucky.Perhaps someday, despite certainsafeguards, someone will discoverand break into the cave or vault into

which I seal myself, secretly, for aperiod of sleep. But it is not likely.I have years in which to prepareeach of those places and the experi-ence of four thousand sleeps hack ofme. You could pass such a place athousand times and never know itwas there, nor be able to enter ifyou suspected.

No, my chances for survival be-tween my periods of waking life arcmuch better than my chances of sur-vival during my conscious, activeperiods. It is perhaps a miracle thatI have survived so many of those,

despite the techniques of survivalthat I have developed.

And -those techniques are good.T"

ve lived through seven majoratomic-and super-atomic-wars thathave reduced mc population of Rarthto a few savages around a few camp-fires in a few still habitable areas.And at other limes, in other eras,

I,

ve been in five galaxies besides ourown.

I,ve had several thousand wives

but always one at a time for I wasborn in a monogamous era and thehabit has i>ersisted. And I haveraised several thousand children. Of

course, I have never been able toremain with one wife longer thanthirty years before 1 must disappear,

but thirty years is long enough forboth of us-especially when she agesat a normal rale and I age impcr-

150

ceptibly. Oh, it leads to problems,of course, but I

,ve been able to han-

dle them. I always marry, when Ido marry, a girl as much youngerthan myself as possible, so the dis-parity will not become too great.Say I am thirty; I marry a girl ofsixteen. Then when it is time that

L must leave her, she is forty-six andT am still thirty. And it is best forbolli af us, for everyone, that whenI awaken I do not again go back tothat place. If she still lives, she willbe past sixty and it would not bewell

, even for her, to have a husbandcome back from the dead-sti"

young. And I have left her we«iprovided, a wealthy widow-wealthyin money or in whatever may haveconstituted wealth in that particularera. Sometimes it has been beadsand arrowheads, sometimes wheatin a granary and once-there havebeen peculiar civilizations-it wasfish scales. I have never hacl the

sightesi difficulty in acquiring myshare, or more, of money or itsequivalent. A few thousand years

'

practice and the difficulty becomesthe olher way-knowing when tostop in order not to become undulywealthy and so attract attention.

For obvious reasons, I,ve alwaysmanaged to do that. For reasonsthat you will see I,ve never wantedpower, nor have I ever-after the

first few hundred years-let peoplesuspect that I was different fromthem. I even spend a few hourseach night lying thinking, pretendingto sleep.

But none of that is important, any

ASTOUNDING SCIE N CE-FICTION

more than I am important. T tell itto you only so you will understandhow I know the tiling that I amabout to tell you.

And when I tell you, it is notbccause I'm trying to sell you any-thing. It,s something you can'tchange if you want to, and-whenyou understand it-you won

,

t want

to.

I'm not trying to influence you orto lead you. In four thousand life-times I"ve been almost everything-except a leader. I,ve avoided that.

Oh, often enough I have been a godamong savages, but that was be-cause I had to be one in order to

survive. I used the powers theythought were magic only to keep adegree of order, never to lead them,never to hold them back. If I taughtthem to use the bow and arrow, it

" was because game was scarce andwe were starving and my survivaldepended upon theirs. Seeing thatthe pattern was necessary, I havenever disturbed it.

Whatl tell you now will not dis-turb the pattern.

Tt is this: The human race is the

only immortal organism in theuniverse.

There have been other races, butthey have died away or they willdie. We charted them once, a hun-dred thousand years ago, with an in-strument that detected the presenceof thought, the presence of intelli-gence, however alien and at what-ever distance-and gave us a meas-ure of that mind and its qualities.

LETTER TO A PHOENIX

And fifty thousand years later thatinstrument was rediscovered. There

were about as many races as beforebut only eight of them were onesthat had been there fifty thousandyears ago and each of those eightwas dying, senescent. They hadpassed the peak of their powers andthey were dying.

They had reached the limit of theircapabilities-and there is always alimit-and they had no choice but todie. Life is dynamic; it can neverbe static-at however high or lowa level-and survive.

That is what I am trying to tellyou, so that you will never again beafraid. Only a race that destroysitself and its progress periodically,

that goes back to its beginning, cansurvive more than, say, a hundredthousand years of intelligent life.

In all the universe only the humanrace has ever reached a high levelof intelligence without reaching ahigh level of sanity. We are unique.We are already at least five times asold as any other race has ever beenand it is because we arc not sane.

And man has, at times, had glim-merings of the.fact that insanity isdivine. Ii if? only at high levels ofculture does he realize that he is

collectively insane, that fight againstit as he will he will always destroyhimself-and rise anew out of theashes.

The phoenix, the bird that peri-odically immolates itself upon a

flaming pyre to rise new-born andlive again for another millennium,

and again and forever, is only meta-151

phorically a myth. It exists andthere is only one of it.

Yon are the phoenix.Nothing will ever destroy you,

now that-(luring many high civili-zation-your seed has been scatteredon the planets of a thousand suns,in a hundred galaxies, there everto repeat the pattern. The patternthat started a hundred and eightythousand years ago-I think.

I cannot be sure of that for I have

seen that the twenty to forty thou-sand years that elapse between thefall of one civilization and the rise

of the next destroy all traces. Intwenty to forty thousand yearsmemories become legends andlegends become superstitions andeven the superstitions become lost.Metals rust and corrcxle back intoearth while the wind and the rain

and the jungle erode and coverstone. The contours of the verycontinents change - and glacierscome and go, and a city of fortythousand years before is under milesof earth and miles of water.

So I cannot be sure. Perhaps thefirst blow-up that I knew was not thefirst; civilization may have risen andfallen before my time..- If so, itmerely strengthens the case T put be-fore yon to say that mankind mayhave survived more than the hundred

and eighty thousand years I know of,may have lived through more thanthe six blow-ups that have happenedsince what I think to have been the

first discovery of the phoenix"s pyre.But-except that we scattered our

seed to the stars so well that even

the dying of the sun or its becominga nova would not destroy us-thepast does not matter. Lur; Candra,Thragan, Kali, Mu, Atlantis-thoseare the six I have known, and theyare gone as thoroughly as this onewill be twenty thousand years or sohence, but the human race, here orin other galaxies, will survive andwill live forever.

It will help your peace of mind,here in the year 1949 of your cur-rent era

, to know that-for yourminds are disturbed. Perhaps, Ido not know

, it will help yourthoughts to know that the comingatomic war, the one that will prob-ably happen in your generation, willnot be a blow-up war; it will cometoo soon for that, before you have de-veloped the really destructive weap-ons man has had so often before. It

will set you back, yes. There willbe darkish ages for a century or afew centuries. Then

, with thememory of what you will call WorldWar III as a warning, man willthink-as he has always thoughtafter a mild atomic war-that he has

couqucrcd his own insanity.For a while-if the pattern holds

-he will hold it in check. He will

reach the stars again, to find himselfalready there. Why, you

,

ll be back

on Mars within five hundred years,and I'll go there too, to sec againthe canals I once helped to dig. I'venot been there for eighty thousandyears and I

'd like to see what timehas done to it and to those of us whowere cut off there the last time nian-


kind lost the space drive. Of coursethey,ve followed the pattern too,but the rate is not necessarily con-stant. We may 4»nd them at anystage in the cycle except the top.If they were at the top of the cycle,we wouldn,t have to go to them-they,d come to us. Thinking, ofcourse, as they think by now, thatthey arc Martians.

I wonder how high, this time,you will get? Not quite as high,I hope, as Thragan. I hope thatnever again is rediscovered theweapon Thragan used against hercolony on Skoro, which was thenthe fifth planet until the Thragans

blew it into asteroids. Of course

that weapon would be developedonly long after inlergalactic travelagain becomes commonplace. If Isee it coming I"ll get out of theGalaxy, but I,d hate to have to dothat. I like Earth and I,d like to

spend the rest of my mortal lifetimeon it if it lasts that long.

Possibly it won*t, but the humanrace will last. Everywhere and for-ever, for it will never be sane andonly insanity is divine. Only themad destroy themselves and all theyhave wrought.

Atid only the phoenix livesforever.

TIIF. END

SCIENCE & FANTASY FICTION BOOKS:1. Science Fiction: Th« But of 1949 Anthology. 52.95 20. Sixth Column, fay Robert Helnleln.$3.002. From OR This World (Anthology), 18 Scl- 21. The Cattle of Iron, by L. S. Of Camp &

enee Fiction "Hall of Fame" Stories. Fletcher Pratt . 3.00130.000 Words. 2.95 22. A Martian Odyssey and Other Stsrles, by

3. The Last Spaco Ship, by Merray Leinsttr.. 2.50 Stanley C. Welnbaum. 3.004

. John Cantairs: Space Detective, fay Franli 23. Nomad, by George 0. Smith. 3.00Belknap Long . 2.50 24. Sldewise In Time and Others, by Murray

5. The Four Sided Triangle. by Win. F. Templo Leinster . 3.00(London) . 3.00 25. The Ship of It Mar, by A. Merrill. Hew

6. The Conquest of Space, fay Willy Ley. Pre- Memorial Ed. 111m*. by Flnlay. 3.50view of the exploration ol the universe by 26. Methuselah's Children, by Robert A. Helnleln 3.00spaceship. With 48 pages of illgitratlons by 27. The Porcelain Magician, by Frank Owen.Chesley Bonestell, 16 In full color. 3.95 Short Stories. 3.00

7. Planets of Ad.entire, by Basil Wells. 15 28. Lest Darkness Fall, by L. S. De Camp.... 3.00

Science Fiction Stories. 3.00 29. Olvlde & Rule £ The Stolen Dormoase, by8

. The Triton, fay I. Ron Hubbard. 3.00 L. S. De Camp (In 1 Vol.)...3.009. The Other Side of the Moon. Ed. by Aigust 30. Darker Than Yog Think, by Jack Williamson 3.00

Derleth. 20 S. F. Tales. 3.75 31. Skylark of Valtron. by E. E. Smith. Ph.D.. 3.0010. The Omnibus ol Time, by Ralph Milne Farley. 32. Slnlstor Barrier, by Erie F. Russell. 3.00

Time Travel Tales. 3.50 33. The Psrple Twilight, fay Pelhaa Croom. In-11. The Radio Man, by Ralph M. Farley.2.50 terplanetary Hovel (London). 3.0012. Lords ol Creation, fay Eando Binder. 3.00 34. Spurious Sun, by George Borodin (London) 3.0013. Se.en Oat ol Time, by Arthur Leo Zagat. .. 3.00 35. Skylark Three, by E. E. Smith. Ph.D. 3.0014. The llamunculos, fay Oavld H. Keller. M.O. 3.00 36. The Wheels ol II. by L. S. De Camp. 3.0015. The Guide to Fantastic Fiction, Ed, by 37. Death's Depsty, by L. Ron Hvbfaard. 2.50

Everett F. Bleller. 6.00 38. The Solitary Hunters-The Afayss, fay David16. Exiles ol Spring, by Nelson Bond. 3.00 H. Keller. M.O. (In 1 Vol.). 3.0017. The Cosmic Ceolds. by John Talne. 3.00 39. Slaves ol Sleep, by I. Ron Hibb.ird. 3.0018. Pattern For Conqacst. by Geo. 0. Smith. . . 3.00 40. The World of A. by A. E. Van Voit. 2.5019. The 31st of February, by Nelson S. Bond. 41. Who Coes There? by John W. Campfaell, Jr.

Short Stories. 3.00 Short Stoeles. 3.00

Send check* and money orders to:

STEPHEN'S BOOK SERVICE KJ?'"VSmcTn! y."' "h"J(Open 9:30 A.M. to 6:00 P.M.) Monday through Saturday. (Phone GRamorcy 3-6294)

LETTER TO A PHOENIX

BOOK REVIEWS

"Voyages to the Moon," by MarjorieHope Nicolson; The MacmillanCompany, New York 1948. 297pages with 8 plates. $4.00

Modern book titles are usuallysomewhat too short to give thereader an idea of the full and pre-cise scope of the contents of a work.If Miss Nicolson had chosen to imi-

tate the style of the titles of manyof the works she discusses in her"Voyages to the Moon," her owntitle page would have looked aboutas follows: "A Discourse on Voy-ages to the Moon, the Sun, thePlanets and other Worlds generally,written by divers authors from theearliest times to the time of the first

Balloon Ascensions made during theYears 1783-4, with Remarks upontheir Sources and an Epilogue abouta few selected later works of this

kind; to which is appended a Bib-liography of one hundred and thirty-three works up to the year 1784with an added listing of fifty-eightbooks and articles dealing with thetheme itself and with related

sciences."

This about tells the scope of thework without being able to deal withthe depth of penetration. It is amost remarkable piece of work,

154

written by a no less remarkablefemale scholar. Miss Nicolson re-ceived her Ph.D from Yale Uni-

versity in 1920 and then becameinstructor and later assistant pro-fessor of English at the Universityof Minnesota. After a trip toEurope as a Guggenheim Fellow-or whatever the female form of a"fellow" may be-she became asso-ciate professor of English at SmithCollege-from 1920-1929-and thenprofessor and dean, from 1929 until1941. In that year she left SmithCollege for Columbia Universitywhere she is still the only woman tohold a full professorship in theGraduate School. In addition to

teaching she produced quite a num-ber of short and long essays forvarious scholarly publications,mostly on themes which tic in withthat of her present book. In be-tween she collected ten honorarydoctorates for.herself, was presidentof the United Chapters of Phi BetaKappa, won the John AddisonPorter Prize from Yale and the

Rose Mary Crawshay Prize fromthe British Academy-for her re-cent book "Newton Demands the

Muse." In short there is a longbackground to rattle off when she isintroduced to a lecture audience, but

ASTOUNDING S CI E N CE-FICTION

her own feeling about this.is that itreminds her of Samuel Johnson

'

s

female preacher "whom he comparedto a dog standing on its hind legs;he doesn,t db it well, but attractsattention because he docs it at all."

I"m not going to dispute MissNicolson,s feelings with her, butthat quote certainly docs not applyto her book. In fact my own feelingis that she could do it at all onlybecause she could do it well. Be-

ginning, after a side wise glance atthe mythical king Bladud withLucian,s "True History" she ar-rives (after a few more feminineside glances at Cicero

's "Somnium

Scipionis," Plutarch,s '*Face in theMoon," Cervantes' "Don Quixote"and Ariosto,s "Orlando furioso" in

the period following "

the invention

of the telescope. Here further sub-division has been provided by oneof the authors to be discussed,

Bishop John Wilkins who wrote thatthere are "several ways whereby thisflying in air hath been or may beattempted" and who listed them as:

(1) "by spirits, or angels," (2) "bythe help of fowls," (3) "by wingsfastened immediately to the bod}'"and (4) "by a flying chariot."

Of course it is Kepler*s posthu-mous "Somnium" which heads the

procession of flight "by spirits, orangels," the pages about the "Som-nium" are one of the best apprecia-tions of this little known work of

the great astronomer I have everread. The influence of this book

on others is traced, some old poetry

is quoted which, to me at least, wasnews because of its age. Miltonseems to have been influenced by it,

too, and at least the "method" wasadopted by Athanasius Kircher,

S. J. Traces linger on throughChristian Huygens to EmmanuelSwedenborg.

The next chapter deals, of course,

with the voyages accomplished "bythe help of fowls," notably FrancisGodwin"s "Man in the Moone: or A

Discourse of a Voyage Thither." I

was greatly pleased to see a full tenpages devoted to the "Voyage toCacklogallinia" which was publishedin 1727 and which has been ascribedboth to Dean Swift and to DanielDefoe. The real author is still un-

known, but the story is still worthreading. After that we progress tomethod No. 3 - which first requiressome discussion of sei-ious attempts,like Leonardo de Vinci's sketches

,

which, however, is merely the bestknown of many. Of works of fic-tion "The Life and Adventures of

Peter Wilkins" (1750) is discussedat length, followed by a summaryof Retif de la Bretonnc,s "La De

couverte australe par un hommevolant

" or "Le Dedale franqais." I

realized with some pity that MissNicolson had actually read her waythrough the three volumes of end-lessly cascading French and havingonly recently finished another one ofRetif,s unlimited ruminations I can

fully understand her remark that he/"

first reading was also her last."Most modern readers will be fully

BOOK REVIEWS 155

satisfied with her condensation.

In the following chapter, devotedto the "flying chariot," Miss Nicol-son tells of an unpublished manu-script which she found in the BritishMuseum and which deals with a

kite voyage to the moon. Anony-mously written it is called-withapparent scientfic seriousness-"

Selenographia," but the subtitlekills any memories of the great workof Johannes Hevelius with the sametitle by proclaiming: "The Lunarian,or Ncwcs from the World in theMoon to the Lunaticks of This

World." The manuscript insiststhat Cornelius van Drebble was the

original discoverer of the world inthe moon and that a much more

exact description exists, written by"Lucas Lunanimus of Luncn-

bergi, and originally writ by thesame hand in the I-unick Language;and now transproged out of oldBabelonick meetcr into plain Eng-lish." It seems that this manuscriptis one of the stories that start withwit and fire but later on deteriorate

lamentably and become extremelytedious.

But summarizing and commentingupon the stories based on the "flyingchariot" docs not quite exhaust thematerial, there is one more chaptercalled "Variations on a Theme"

which serves as a catch-all for those

things which Bishop John Wilkinsfailed to foresee. There is the"Voyage to the World of Car-tesius" which is accomplished by an"Act of Will," helped along by

some special snuff. There is the talecalled "Raccolta"-first cd. probably1767-dealing with the moon tripof "Cavalicrc Wild Scull" and "Gio-vanni Wilkins." There is Voltaire,s

star-roving Sirian giant "Microme-gas.

"

There is "The BlazingWorld"-don,t ask me to define its

location-written by the Duchess ofNewcastle-published in 1666-which seems to be somewhat strongeven for such a hardened researcheras Miss Nicholson and which was

,

of all things, inspired by the atten-dance of a session of the RoyalSociety.

The "Epilogue," which is actuallythe seventh chapter, deals merelywith a very few typical examples ofthe nineteenth century: Edgar AllanPoe,s "Hanns Pfaall," Locke,s fa-mous "Moon Hoax

,

"

Jules Verne's"From the Earth to the Moon

,

"

H. G. Wells "First Men in the -

Moon" and C. S. Lewis "Out of theSilent Planet"-plus a short, sharpand well-deserved slap at Lewis,"Perelandra." This Epilogue ismerely a windup, leading, as it does,into the period of modern scienceand modern speculation. "If there

are other inhabited worlds, perhapsthe technology that now seems tothreaten imagination will make apath to the planets, and we shallknow which of our romancers came

closest to the truth. But if that dayever comes, it will not be the endbut another beginning."

Willy Ley


**Thc Atmospheres of the Earth andPlanets," edited by Gerard P.Kuiper. The University of Chi-cag Press, 5750 Ellis Avenue,Chicago 37, Illinois, vii plus 366pages with XVI plates. 1948.$7.50.

From long experience I know howshocked and disappointed science-fiction fans always feel when toldthat generally less than ten percentof the work of a large observatory isconcerned with planets. As a re-sult, progress in our knowledge ofthe planets has been correspondinglyslow. This may be attributed notso much to lack of interest in the

planets themselves as to the extremedifficulty of research in this field. Yetoften it seems that the only time alarge tclcscopc is turned on theMoon, Mars, or Saturn, is when thetrustees of the institution come

around, and it becomes necessaryto display a spectacular object fortheir edification.

The pace has been so slow thatin the past it had not been difficultto keep abreast of planetary dis-covery. But any author today whoexpects to write about life on otherworlds is going to find himself bad-ly behind the times unless he keepsa copy of

"The Atmospheres of theEarth and Planets" close by histypewriter. Here for the first time isa collection of fifteen papers on thelatest advances in planetary andhigh-altitude research each writtenby an expert. The book is editedby Dr. Gerard Kuiper, Director of

the Yerkes and McDonald Observa-

tories, and Professor of Astronomyat the University of Chicago. Al-though the writing is fairly tech-nical with some mathematics, on thewhole it makes tolerably easyreading.

Perhaps as good a way as any togive an idea of the contents of thebook is by asking some questions ofthe type that might occur in a sci-ence-fiction

*

yarn. How many canyou answer with assurance ?

1. What other biological process

besides photosynthesis is known up-on the Earth that might permit thegrowth of plant life on Mars?

2. On Mars why would the exist-

ence of lichens be considered more

probable than the dry mosses?Ans. Chapter XIV "The Possi-

bility of Photosynthesis on Mars,

"

by James Franck, Department ofChemistry, University of Chicago.Pp. 355, 356.

3. What can be deduced about the

atmospheres of Mars and Venusfrom spectroscopic observations ofthe Earthlight on the Moon?

Ans. "Spectroscopic Observa-tions of the Planets at Mount Wil-

son,"

. Chapter XI, by TheodoreDunham, Jr., Harvard University.P

. 303.

.4. What gas might l>e produced

on the Moon by heating due tomcteoritic impact ?

5. What terrestrial mineral has a

reflection spectrum that closelymatches the light reflected from thered desert regions of Mars?

6. What kinds of vegetation seem

BOOK REVIEWS 157

to be ruled out on Mars as the re-

sult of drift curves taken across the

planets ?7

. What observations indicate

that the rings of Saturn may becovered by frost or even composedof ice?

Ans. "Survey of Planetary at-mosphere," Chapter XII, by GerardKuiper, University of Chicago. Pp.322, 3,35. 339, 340, respectively.

8. What is the color temperature

of the Sun as revealed by ultravioletspectrograms taken from V-2 rock-ets?

Ans. The Upper AtmosphereStudied from Rockets, Chapter IV,by Jesse L. Grcenstein, Mount Wil-son and Palomar Observatories.

9. How much has the composition

of the Earth's atmosphere probablychanged throughout geological his-tory ?

Ans. "Geological Evidence on theEvolution of the Earth,s Atmos-

phere," Chapter VIII, by Rollin T.Chamberlin, Department of Geology,University of Chicago. P. 254.

10. What line of reasoning leads

to the conclusion that argon might bethe major constituent of the atmos-phere of Mars ?

Ans. "Rare Gases and the For-mation of the Earth,

s Atmosphere,"

Chapter IX, by Harrison Brown,Institute for Nuclear Studies and

Department of Chemistry, Universi-ty of Chicago. P. 268.

As stated on the jacket, the ques-tion of life on other worlds can be

settled only through the study ofplanetary atmospheres. Formerlythis material has been scattered

through the volumes of a dozenscientific journals, making it a hope-less task to run down a particularpoint unless you have access to alarge scientific library. Textbooksarc generally loo elementary andnot sufficiently detailed for the pe-culiar requirements of the science-fiction writer. I-Iere in one volume .

is a wealth of material waiting tobe explored, written and analyzedby the best meteorologists, astrono-mers, and rocket specialists in thecountry.

R. S. Richardson

THE END

THE ANALYTICAL LABORATORYBeing pressed (hard!) for space this time, a bare report:

May, 1949 issuePlace Story Author Points

1. Needle (Part I) Hal Clement 1.4S-2

. Mother Earth Isaac Asiinov 2.54

3. . Lost Ulysses William L. Bade 2.894. The Conroy Diary Rene Lafayette *3.91

5_ Prophecy Poul Anderson 4.32

Hm-m-m-and I,ve always maintained that you couldn"

t write a good dctcctivc storyin science-fiction ! The Editor.


FANTASTIC FICTIO FOR SALEPART I -AU NEW BOOKS

f. When Worlds Collide.\lide .........1

Balner & Wyll*$2.75 each

$3.00... „„ 3-M

Skylark of Space...E. E. Smith2. After Worlds Col3. 31st of February-Oond4

. Life Everlasting-Keller4A. The Homonculus- Keller . 3.005

. Devil and tho Doctor-Keller ... .. 3.00

6. Pilgrims thru Space & Time-Bailey 5.00

7. Checklist of Fantastic Literaturo. €.008

. People of the Comet-Hall .. 2.009

. Sunken World-Coblentx . 3.00

10. Herculee My Shipmate-Graves l.00II. And Seme Were Human-Oel Hey . 3.0012. The Torch-Oechdolt --- 2.5013. Treasury of Science Fiction-Conklln .... 3.0014. Beit of Science Fiction-Conklln .«... J.5015. House on the Borderland-Hodgion . 5.0016. Skullface and Others-Howard .... 5.0017. Without Sorcery-Sturgeon . 3.0018. Edlsons Conquest of Mar*-Serviis. 3.5019. Well of Tho Unicorn-Fletcher 1.0020. Rhode Island on Lovecraft-(Pamphlet) 1.0020A. H.P.L. A Memoir (Lovecraft) 2.5020B. Supernatural Horror in Literature-

(Lovecraft) Essay 2.5021. Fantasy Fiction Field Calendar-for 1949 1.0022. Greenor Than You Are-Ward 1.0023. Abyss & Solitary Hunters-Keller 3.0024. Web of Easter Island-Wandrei 3.0025. Fourth Book of Jorkens-Lord Dunsany 3.0026. Of Worlds Beyond-edited by Eshbach

(non-fiction) / .... . .... 2.0027. Genus Loci and Others-C. A. Smith 3.0028. Porcelain Magician-Frank Owen ... 3.00

.29. The Guide to Fantastic Literaturo-Bleiler 6.0030. The Mislaid Charm-Phillips (2 Oust

Jacket*) . -.. tM31. Radio Man-Farley . . .- 2.5032. Works of M. P. Shiel-(non-flction) .... 6.00

\ 2 dust Jackets.ÿ33

. Blind Spot-H. Flint $3.00 ( one extra done*34. Spot of Life-H. E. Flint 3.00 v especially for

/ Julius Unocr.35. Planeteer &. Other Stories-Flint.. 3.00.36

. Lords of Creation-Binder . . 3.00

.37. Exiles of Time- Bond ... 3.00

.38. Seven Out of Time-Zagat . 3.00

39. Sidewise in Time-Lelnster .. 3.0039A. Beyond This Horizon-Heinleln.... 3.00

49. Spacehounds of IPC.....-.50. Skylark Three....51. Trlplanetary ........52. Skylark of Valeron ....53. First Lensmen ----.54. Venus Equilateral....$3.0055. Pattern for Conquest. ... 3.0056. Nomad .-. 3.0057. Book of Ptath-Van Vo«t ......58. World of A-Van Vogt..

59. Out of The Unknown-Van Vogt.. 3.0060. Mightiest Machine ... I by CampbellCI. Who Goes There?.. ..... > $3.0062. Incredible Planet---\ each63. Slaves of

.

Sleep...I by Hubbard64. Final Blackout .$3.00

Most copiesPersonallylutographedlby author.All six for$18.00 pp.

G. O. Smith

autographedcopies

. 3.00

... 2.50

cacn

tt.5065. Death*s Deputy-Hubbard ..

66. Legion of Spac*...I by Williamson67. Darker Than You Think.f $3.00 each68. Black Flame-Welnbaum ...$3.0069. A Martian Odyssey & Others-Weinbaum 3.0070. Sinister Barriers-Russell .... 3.0071. Cosmic Geods-Talne ..

. 3.00

72. Forbidden Garden-Talne .... 3.0073. Ship of Ishtar-New Book Ver-x

slon-illustrated by Finlay $3.50* A. Merritf.74. Fox Woman 4.00 > All 3 for75. Black Wheel - (Limited f $10.00

Supply) ... 4.oo;76. The famous BURROUGHS Mt-NEW t>0«K»

40. Sixth Column-Helnleln

41. Minions of the Moon-Beyer42. Castle of Iron .... $3.0043. Wheels of If . 3.0044. Divide & Rule . .. 3.0045. Carnellan Cube 3.0046. Lest Darkness Fall 3.00

(Two Cover Jackets-Oneextra by Bok.)

47. Well of.the Unicorn-(Fletcher) cut* Price) 53 50

I. Astoundlngs-1931-19301939.1949

2. Amazlngs-1929-1940 .1941-1949 ..

A-Princess of Mars ....B-Gods of Mars

.....

C_warlord of Mart...0-Thuvia Maid of Mara.E-Chessmen of Mars .F-Mastermind of Mars

..

G-Synthetic Mar of Mars ..

M-Swords of Mara.....-.....

I-Liana of Gathol ..

(only exception to $1.00 prico>J-Carson of Venus...

K-Lost of Venus ...

L-Pirates of Venus .M-Fighting Man of Mars .

.Forthcoming

PART II - MAGAZINES

51.00

I.

OO

1.00

1.00

1.00

I.QO

... 3.oa

.-. 3.00

Pratt L DeCamp.

All 6 for $15.00Postpaid.

Most Copiesare

autographed*

.00

$2.00 eachI.

OO each1.00 each

.50 cach

3. Wond I9Z9-I310 ...

1941-1949 ..

Weirds-1934-1949 .

Ask for uricea on other nmauzlncs

.00

.00 each

.50 each

.00 each

PART III - ANY ITEM BELOW FREE

I. F. F. F. Calendar for 1949-illustrated by Paul.Bok. Cartier

2. Rhode Island on Lovecraft3. Grerner Than You Are-Ward4. Well of Tho Unicorn-Fletcher (Pratt)

5. Fantasy Book Stories by Vogt. Hasse. Kuttner. etc.

PART IV - ONCE

I

WITH ORDER OF $5.00 OR MORE6. Hercules My Shipmate-Gravos7. Tho Mislaid Charm-Phillips8

. Moonpool-Merritt-F. N. Version9. Conouest of Moon Pool-Merritt-F. N. Version

10. Ships of Ishtar-Merrit-F. N. Version

IN A LIFETIME

t Science*$250

The COMPLETE set of Astounding from 1930 through 1918-19 continuous years of theFiction ever printed. Over 200 Issues-ono set only.....

2. The COMPLETE set of Antazlno Stories from 1926 through 1ÿ18-23 continuous years of the firstof the Science Fiction Pulps. Over 200 issues-one set only .... $250

3. The COMPLETE set of Wonder Stories from 1929 to 1948. including Science Wonder. Air Wonder.

Thrilling Wonder & Science Wonder Quarterly-one set only . ....$250

JULIUS UNGER . . Box 35, Brooklyn 4. New York

159

BRASS TACKSYour friend's right; C3 Fs it should

be. Typos will happen!

Dear Mr. Campbell:If you don,t quit improving As-

tounding, I am going to slop buyingthe magazine. I have always hadhopes of doing some science-fictionwriting for you, but your stories aregetting so good that I am gettingdiscouraged.

Of course the cover was the first

thing I looked at after your sayingthat you were going to have it doneby a new artist. I must say the boyis good-if lie isn,t a she-and lookslike he-or she-might develop intoa good STF artist. Although thearticle was even better than u$ual therest of the stories were about as goodas you usually have which was a let-down after last issue. "The Unde-cided," by E. F. Russell, was the beststory in this month's mag. It hadfast action, a good plot idea, better-than-average dialogue, and it showeda reasonable picture of an alien life-form. The only weak spot, if it isone, was that it had me sympathizingwith the poor caterpillar-men. Thesecond-place spot was copped byLafayette's "Plague". He is improv-ing this series as more and more

160

background shows up. The weak-ness of the background was whatkept the first ones of this series frommaking a l>ettcr showing. The thirdpart of "Scetee Shock" draws third

place although the whole story wouldbe in first place. Confusing, isn,t it?"Devious Weapon" and "Colonial"are tied for fourth; the first for theplot idea and the other for the writ-ing in it. "Prodigy" comes in lastbut is still a better story than yourcompetitors usually carry.

Too . bad that Brass Tacks got

crowded out but you really had afull issue this time. By the way, Igot my roommate to read the articleon fluorine and he liked it fairlywell, as he is taking organic chem-istry, but he says that a compoundsuch as C3 F i0 is impossible; that itwould have to be either Q Fi0or C3 F 8 Is he wrong or was therea typographical error? I suspectthat if he found it more of your read-ers will, too. He doesn,t read sci-

ence-fiction, anyway, so lie doesn'tdeserve much consideration, but Iwould like to know if there could be

such a compound.Thanks for a very good issue and I

hope that you get to publish somepictures of the other side of the


Moon very soon now.-Norman E.Hartman, P. O. Box 285, GoldBeach, Oregon.

The collection was lost the hard way I

Dear Mr. Campbell:When I received the February

number of Astounding SCIENCEFICTION, it was the first time inabout eight years 1 had an issue ofthat periodical in my hands.

In 1941, when I was in Java,- Isubscribed to ASF but when the war

started and the Japs invaded us, notonly was the possibility of gettingany more issues gone, but I lostevery number I possessed

" togetherwith all my other things. Now thatI am back in the Netherlands and

have a job again, I have started an-other subscription and I am glad tosee that although the size is smallerthan I remember it used to be, thestories seem to be as good as theyused to be-if not better.

I might as well give you a Lab re-port, so here goes:

1. "A Present From Joe"

2. "Manna

"

3. "The Prisoner In The Skull"

4. "Next Friday Morning"5

. "Christmas Tree"

This does not mean I thought"Christmas Tree" bad, far from that.I did not put in the serial because Iwant to wait until that is complete,but as far as it goes, I think it eventops the other stories.

I am sad when I realize what a lotof fine stories I must have missedsince ,41, and I should like to order

BRASS TACKS

all the old volumes, but that is im-possible because dollars are tooscarce in the Netherlands to allow

me to use them for that purpose.Would it perhaps be possible for youto let your American readers knowthat if they possess any old copiesthey do not want to keep any longer-although that hardly seems prob-able-T should be very grateful if theywould send them to me instead of

throwing them away. It is impos-sible to repay them in money, but ifthey have a suggestion for paymentin another form, I shall be only tooglad to hear about it.-J.* J. Hillen,Jonkerlaan 21, Wassenaar, Nether-lands.

Notice to fans:

Dear Mr. Campbell:Would you be kind enough to tell

the fans, via Brass Tacks :1

. The dates of the Cinvention are

September 3-4-5. The Cinvention isNOT in July.

2. Don Ford has a new address:

Box 116, Sharonville, Ohio. Don isthe guy to send that loose buck formembership in the Cinvention Com-mittee.

3. The Cinvention is NOT an

"inner circle" gathering. The Tor-con last year was Don,s first conven-

tion, the Cinvention will be my first.If you like science fiction, you'll havethe time of your life at the Cinven-tion.

Reason for the above, there,s a bitof misinformation floating about thatwe

'd like to nail.

161

And from all of the CinvcntionCommittee to all science fiction fans,a most cordial invitation to the Con-vention.

THIS IS GOING TO BE THE

BEST ONE YET.-Roy Lavender,

138 Blymcr Street, Delaware, Ohip.

Anyone want to check hintt

Dear Mr. Campbell:Possibly some of the readers of

ASF might relish a little whadizit,so I diffidently submit the following:

11.001001000100101001111101-1100000110100001000111

Reading J. J. Coupling,s descrip-ion of digital computers in the Feb-ruary issue o-f ASF suggested theenjoyable pastime of convertingsome commonplace quantity such as

into the binary system. Doubtlessit would seem that the above value

for 7i was slightly carried to ex-tremes, but if so I can only plead asexcuse a certain curiosity concern-ing possible relationships whichfailed to appear. The value of nused to obtain this binary is correctto fifteen places. If the

,Timothy

Lawrence Pauls and Elsie Lambeths

among your readers find this contri-bution trivial I can only crave their

indulgence since my parents werenot exposed to lethal radiations.-Art Kalaugher, New Orleans 19, La.

Another free-fall effect I hadn'tthought of!

Dear John:Apropos of Hal Clements' good

yarn "Fireproof," you might be in-terested in knowing that already sci-entists are having their troublesfrom working in an essentially gravi-tationless field. In the latest Physi-cal Rez'iezv

, there>s a discussion of

results that they have had fromcloudchamber work in V-2,

s. After

it starts falling back again, the cham-ber no longer clears itself of thedroplets from the preceding tracks;they just hang around and show upas a persistent fogging which makesthe later pictures worthless. I havea hunch that they will eventuallyhave to use some sort of electrostatic

clearing gimmick to sweep the cham-ber clean.

Arthur Dugan,s story of "TheCase of the Missing Octane" wasreasonably well worked out-and aspecial bouquet to the typesetter thatgot all the formulae right. That,s a

job that not even the textbooks orjournals do very often.-John H.Pomeroy.

THE END

*******


science fiction

Documents

Transcript of science fiction