American Science Fiction Five Classic Novels 1956-58 (109 page)

But I honestly didn’t see where there was this big opportunity being stuck away in a gray sack in the Void and I began to wonder and I got the strangest feeling and I said to myself, “Hang onto your hat, Greta. It’s hope.”

“The dreadful thing about being a Demon is that you have all time to range through,” Lili was saying with a smile. “You can never shut the back door to yesterday or the front door to tomorrow and simply live in the present. But now that’s been done for us: the Door is shut, we need never again rehash the past or the future. The Spiders and Snakes can never find us, for who ever heard of a Place that was truly lost being rescued? And as those in the know have told me, Introversion is the end as far as those outside are concerned. So we’re safe from the Spiders and Snakes, we need never be slaves or enemies again, and we have a Place in which to live our new lives, the Place prepared for us from the beginning.”

She paused. “Surely you understand what I mean? Sidney and Beauregard and Dr. Pyeshkov are the ones who explained it to me. The Place is a balanced aquarium, just like the cosmos. No one knows how many ages of Big Time it has been in use, without a bit of new material being brought in—only luxuries and people—and not a bit of waste cast off. No one knows how many more ages it may not sustain life. I never heard of Minor Maintainers wearing out. We have all the future, all the security, anyone can hope for. We have a Place to live together.”

You know, she was dead right and I realized that all the time I’d had the conviction in the back of my mind that we were going to suffocate or something if we didn’t get a Door open pretty quick. I should have known differently, if anybody should, because I’d once been in the Place without a Door for as long as a hundred sleeps during a foxhole stretch of the Change War and we’d had to start cycling our food and it had been okay.

And then, because it is also the way my mind works, I started to picture in a flash the consequences of our living together all by ourselves like Lili said.

I began to pair people off; I couldn’t help it. Let’s see, four women, six men, two ETs.

“Greta,” I said, “you’re going to be Miss Polly Andry for sure. We’ll have a daily newspaper and folk-dancing classes, we’ll shut the bar except evenings, Bruce’ll keep a rhymed history of the Place.”

I even thought, though I knew this part was strictly silly, about schools and children. I wondered what Siddy’s would look like, or my little commandant’s. “Don’t go near the Void, dears.” Of course that would be specially hard on the two ETs, but Sevensee at least wasn’t so different and the genetics boys had made some wonderful advances and Maud ought to know about them and there were some amazing gadgets in Surgery when Doc sobered up. The patter of little hoofs . .

“My fiance spoke to you about carrying a peace message to the rest of the cosmos,” Lili added, “and bringing an end to the Big Change, and healing all the wounds that have been made in the Little Time.”

I looked at Bruce. His face was set and strained, as will happen to the best of them when a girl starts talking about her man’s business, and I don’t know why, but I said to myself, “She’s crucifying him, she’s nailing him to his purpose as a woman will, even when there’s not much point to it, as now.”

And Lili went on, “It was a wonderful thought, but now we cannot carry or send any message and I believe it is too late in any event for a peace message to do any good. The cosmos is too raveled by change, too far gone. It will dissolve, fade, ‘leave not a rack behind.’ We’re the survivors. The torch of existence has been put in our hands.

“We may already be all that’s left in the cosmos, for have you thought that the Change Winds may have died at their source? We may never reach another cosmos, we may drift forever in the Void, but who of us has been Introverted before and who knows what we can or cannot do? We’re a seed for a new future to grow from. Perhaps all doomed universes cast off seeds like this Place. It’s a seed, it’s an embryo, let it grow.”

She looked swiftly at Bruce and then at Sid and she quoted, “ ‘Come, my friends, ’tis not too late to seek a newer world’.”

I squeezed Sid’s hand and I started to say something to him, but he didn’t know I was there; he was listening to Lili quote Tennyson with his eyes entranced and his mouth open, as if he were imagining new things to put into it—oh, Siddy!

And then I saw the others were looking at her the same way. Ilhilihis was seeing finer feather forests than long-dead Luna’s grow. The greenhouse child Maud ap-Ares Davies was stowing away on a starship bound for another galaxy, or thinking how different her life might have been, the children she might have had, if she’d stayed on the planets and out of the Change World. Even Erich looked as though he might be blitzing new universes, and Mark subduing them, for an eight-legged
Führer-imperator
. Beau was throbbing up a wider Mississippi in a bigger-than-life sidewheeler.

Even I—well, I wasn’t dreaming of a Greater Chicago. “Let’s not go hog-wild on this sort of thing,” I told myself, but I did look up at the Void and I got a shiver because I imagined it drawing away and the whole Place starting to grow.

“I truly meant what I said about a seed,” Lili went on slowly. “I know, as you all do, that there are no children in the Change World, that there cannot be, that we all become instantly sterile, that what they call a curse is lifted from us girls and we are no longer bondage to the moon.”

She was right, all right—if there’s one thing that’s been proved a million times in the Change World, it’s that.

“But we are no longer in the Change World,” Lili said softly, “and its limitations should no longer apply to us, including that one. I feel deeply certain of it, but—” she looked around slowly—“we are four women here and I thought one of us might have a surer indication.”

My eyes followed hers around like anybody’s would. In fact, everybody was looking around except Maud, and she had the silliest look of surprise on her face and it stayed there, and then, very carefully, she got down from the bar stool with her knitting. She looked at the half-finished pink bra with the long white needles stuck in it and her eyes bugged bigger yet, as if she were expecting it to turn into a baby sweater right then and there. Then she walked across the Place to Lili and stood beside her. While she was walking, the look of surprise changed to a quiet smile. The only other thing she did was throw her shoulders back a little.

I was jealous of her for a second, but it was a double miracle for her, considering her age, and I couldn’t grudge her that. And to tell the truth, I was a little frightened, too. Even with Dave, I’d been bothered about this business of having babies.

Yet I stood up with Siddy—I couldn’t stop myself and I guess he couldn’t either—and hand in hand we walked to the control divan. Beau and Sevensee were there with Bruce, of course, and then, so help me, those Soldiers to the death, Kaby and Mark, started over from the bar and I couldn’t see anything in their eyes about the greater glory of Crete and Rome, but something, I think, about each other, and after a moment Illy slowly detached himself from the piano and followed, lightly trailing his tentacles on the floor.

I couldn’t exactly see him hoping for little Illies in this company, unless it was true what the jokes said about Lunans, but maybe he was being really disinterested and maybe he wasn’t; maybe he was simply figuring that Illy ought to be on the side with the biggest battalions.

I heard dragging footsteps behind us and here came Doc from the Gallery, carrying in his folded arms an abstract sculpture as big as a newborn baby. It was an agglomeration of perfect shiny gray spheres the size of golfballs, shaping up to something like a large brain, but with holes showing through here and there. He held it out to us like an infant to be admired and worked his lips and tongue as if he were trying very hard to say something, though not a word came out that you could understand, and I thought, “Maxey Aleksevich may be speechless drunk and have all sorts of holes in his head, but he’s got the right instincts, bless his soulful little Russian heart.”

We were all crowded around the control divan like a football team huddling. The Peace Packers, it came to me. Sevensee would be fullback or center and Illy left end—what a receiver! The right number, too. Erich was alone at the bar, but now even he—“Oh, no, this can’t be,” I thought—even he came toward us. Then I saw that his face was working the worst ever. He stopped halfway and managed to force a smile, but it was the worst, too. “That’s my little commandant,” I thought, “no team spirit.”

“So now Lili and Bruce—yes, and
Grossmutterchen
Maud— have their little nest,” he said, and he wouldn’t have had to push his voice very hard to get a screech. “But what are the rest of us supposed to be—cowbirds?”

He crooked his neck and flapped his hands and croaked, “Cuc-koo! Cuc-koo!” And I said to myself, “I often thought you were crazy, boy, but now I know.”

“
Teufelsdreck!
—yes, Devil’s dirt—but you all seem to be infected with this dream of children. Can’t you see that the Change World is the natural and proper end of evolution?—a period of enjoyment and measuring, an ultimate working out of things, which women call destruction—‘Help, I’m being raped!’ ‘Oh, what are they doing to my children?’—but which men know as fulfillment.

“You’re given good parts in
Götterdämmerung
and you go up to the author and tap him on the shoulder and say, ‘Excuse me, Herr Wagner, but this Twilight of the Gods is just a bit morbid. Why don’t you write an opera for me about the little ones, the dear little blue-eyed curly-tops? A plot? Oh, boy meets girl and they settle down to breed, something like that.’

“Devil’s dirt doubled and damned! Have you thought what life will be like without a Door to go out of to find freedom and adventure, to measure your courage and keenness? Do you want to grow long gray beards hobbling around this asteroid turned inside out? Putter around indoors to the end of your days, mooning about little baby cosmoses?—incidentally, with a live bomb for company. The cave, the womb, the little gray home in the nest—is that what you want? It’ll grow? Oh, yes, like the city engulfing the wild wood, a proliferation of
Kinder, Kirche, Küche
—I should live so long!

“Women!—how I hate their bright eyes as they look at me from the fireside, bent-shouldered, rocking, deeply happy to be old, and say, ‘He’s getting weak, he’s giving out, soon I’ll have to put him to bed and do the simplest things for him.’ Your filthy Triple Goddess, Kaby, the birther, bride, and burier of man! Woman, the enfeebler, the fetterer, the crippler! Woman! —and the curly-headed little cancers she wants!”

He lurched toward us, pointing at Lili. “I never knew one who didn’t want to cripple a man if you gave her the chance. Cripple him, swaddle him, clip his wings, grind him to sausage to mold another man, hers, a doll man. You hid the Maintainer, you little smother-hen, so you could have your nest and your Brucie!”

He stopped, gasping and I expected someone to bop him one on the schnozzle, and I think he did, too. I turned to Bruce and he was looking. I don’t know how, sorry, guilty, anxious, angry, shaken, inspired, all at once, and I wished people sometimes had simple suburban reactions like magazine stories.

Then Erich made the mistake, if it was one, of turning toward Bruce and slowly staggering toward him, pawing the air with his hands as if he were going to collapse into his arms, and saying “Don’t let them get you, Bruce. Don’t let them tie you down. Don’t let them clip you—your words or your deeds. You’re a Soldier. Even when you talked about a peace message, you talked about doing some smashing of your own. No matter what you think and feel, Bruce, no matter how much lying you do and how much you hide, you’re really not on their side.”

That did it.

It didn’t come soon enough or, I think, in the right spirit to please me, but I will say it for Bruce that he didn’t muck it up by tipping or softening his punch. He took one step forward and his shoulders spun and his fist connected sweet and clean.

As he did it, he said only one word, “Loki!” and darn if that didn’t switch me back to a campfire in the Indiana Dunes and my mother telling me out of the Elder Saga about the malicious, sneering, all-spoiling Norse god and how, when the other gods came to trap him in his hideaway by the river, he was on the point of finishing knotting a mysterious net big enough, I had imagined, to snare the whole universe, and that if they’d come a minute later, he would have.

Erich was stretched on the floor, his head hitched up, rubbing his jaw and glaring at Bruce. Mark, who was standing beside me, moved a little and I thought he was going to do something, maybe even clobber Bruce in the old spirit of you can’t do that to my buddy, but he just shook his head and said, “
Omnia vincit amor
.” I nudged him and said, “Meaning?” and he said, “Love licks everything.”

I’d never have expected it from a Roman, but he was half right at any rate. Lili had her victory: marriage by laying out the woman-hating boy friend who would be trying to get him to go out nights. At that moment, I think Bruce wanted Lili and a life with her more than he wanted to reform the Change World. Sure, us women have our little victories—until the legions come or the Little Corporal draws up his artillery or the Panzers roar down the road.

Erich scrambled to his feet and stood there in a half-slump, half-crouch, still rubbing his jaw and glaring at Bruce over his hand, but making no move to continue the fight, and I studied his face and said to myself, “If he can get a gun, he’s going to shoot himself, I know.”

Bruce started to say something and hesitated, like I would have in his shoes, and just then Doc got one of his unpredictable inspirations and went weaving out toward Erich, holding out the sculpture and making deaf-and-dumb noises like he had to us. Erich looked at him as if he were going to kill him, and then grabbed the sculpture and swung it up over his head and smashed it down on the floor, and for a wonder, it didn’t shatter. It just skidded along in one piece and stopped inches from my feet.