by Anthology
The one who approached me replied that to be friends, we must accept their fruit, and showed me one of the metal plates with an illustration of a man and woman eating together from one of the bowls. I accordingly took a piece of it—it is not at all bad, pulpy and with a flavor like that of spiced pears, though if I am any judge, alcoholic—and permitted the other members of the expedition to accept fruit from the bowls being offered to them. The women clapped their hands in delight, and one of them ran into the building, while the one who had accosted me flung her arms around my neck and would not be satisfied until we had emptied the bowl together.
A few moments later Colonel Kaszuk came running from the camp to say that the radio interference had ceased and he was in communication with XN-86, though not as yet with Ghenjon’s XN-54. Naturally, we were delighted, and I ordered the prisoners released at once, except three whom we retained as hostages against further troubles.
But it seems there will be no further troubles. As soon as the prisoners were released, the Kuradan woman with me also ran back into the factory building, uttering the single word “Wait.” Presently she returned with an animal on her shoulder which looked like a white rat, at least two handspans long, but with an enormous head.
“It is one of the Little Gods,” she said. “They are very good, and tell us everything.”
The creature was not at all repulsive and evidently very intelligent. It placed its head close to her ear and made a series of high-pitched sounds, at which she laughed, and then burst into a flow of words, from which Rab finally extracted the statement that the entire personnel of the expedition was invited to spend the day in a banquet with the women while the men were at work. This was so pleasant a termination to our victory that I acceded at once, and the announcement to the crews was received with cheers.
They are saucy wenches with long, dark hair, well-formed even as we understand the term in Evadzon. I understand that as the mutation has made them into a quite separate species, there can be no question of interbreeding, and I therefore anticipate a pleasant day. The one with me is named Clypteia.
I regret to say that Dr. Govelsitz died at dawn. He was violently insane.
Long live Toxernn III, Supreme Intelligence of Evadzon! Shtenin, Major-General At Paralov, 19th Moridd, morning.
Statement of Gavil Brobon, Communication Mechanic
I was communication mechanic of the command vehicle XP-22 during the First Kurada Expedition. I have read the reports of General Shtenin. As far as my observation goes, it is accurate.
I have to add only that, being questioned on the point, I remember that Dr. Govelsitz ate a quantity of the preserved fruit known as dream-pears before examining the Kuradan woman for traces of the Twedorski mutation-virus.
I was on duty in the radio compartment of the command vehicle on the 19th Moridd at Paralov, and therefore did not accompany the remainder of the crews to the banquet. I would say that they were intoxicated when they returned in the evening, particularly General Shtenin. I say it because his movements were uncertain and his voice thick. He set no guards for the night.
As I had not been relieved, I remained on duty, and received the acknowledgment of General Shtenin’s report, transmitted through XN-86. At twilight the radio again became inoperative in the same manner as before. I did not like to rouse the General under the circumstances, so I set the radio on a screamer which would rouse me in case it came on again, and went to sleep.
I was roused just before midnight by sounds in the vehicle. When I looked out of the compartment I saw several of the. large white rats known as “Little Gods” in the vehicle. They were walking on their hind legs and examining all the equipment, talking to each other in high-pitched voices. The lights were not on, but some of them carried small, dim flashlights, by the illumination of which they took down and replaced very quickly one of the rocket-projectors. One of them entered General Shtenin’s compartment with a bundle of the metal plates.
In the morning I reported the failure of the radio to Colonel Kaszuk. He said it did not matter. I then reported it to the General. He said he had been informed that it was better not to use the radio for the time being. At the time he had two of the metal plates in his hand. I did not look at them closely, but I believe they pictured the expedition returning. He sent out a detail to procure more of the preserved dream-pears, and they all ate some. I did not have any myself.
After this, the General gave orders for the return journey. None of the officers protested. Outside Paralov, we met vehicle XN-54, which joined our movement. We proceeded at high speed, arriving at the bridge after dark. XN-86 was on duty there. As soon as we arrived Commander Videlacht got out of his vehicle and came over to ours. General Shtenin got out to meet him.
Commander Videlacht then asked what he was doing there and why he had not obeyed the order to set up an outpost at Paralov. The General said he had received no such orders, and even if he had it was necessary to return at once. Commander Videlacht went to his vehicle to get the order file, and I think it was at this time that Lieutenant Ghenjon came over. One of the rats was sitting on his shoulder. When Commander Videlacht came back he made some remark about the rat, I don’t know what, and I thought he was going to hit it, and Lieutenant Ghenjon shot him. General Shtenin said it was just what he should have done.
I believe in the Supreme Intelligence of Toxernn III.
Report of the Scientific Board of Examination in the Case of the Late Bosip Shtenin Intelligent Lord:
We regret exceedingly not having secured the confession of the traitor Shtenin before his death. Unfortunately, he was already so irrational when our examination began that neither the thumb-press nor the lights had any effect upon him. As he kept screaming for preserved dream-pears, we immediately administered some to the other surviving prisoners. Their jerkings ceased at once and they became, to all appearances, normal. But we noted that they were left with a high degree of suggestibility, and would at once perform the most absurd acts when ordered. By lowering the dosage, this suggestibility was also lowered.
Chemical analysis of the preserved fruit shows it contains a narcotic alkaloid whose formula we have not yet determined. It is evidently habit-forming, and so violent in its effects that cutting off the supply produces the death of the subject, as we have confirmed in several cases. On the other hand, a small daily dosage appears to leave the subject without physical damage.
Samples of the fresh fruit have also been analyzed. They do not contain the alkaloid, which is thus evidently produced during the process of preservation. On this we have no data at present.
The other and more serious question arising from the attached documents concerns the rats known as “Little Gods.” We consider it evident that under the influence of the Twedorski mutation-virus the rats of Kurada have mutated into a tool-using, social form, of an intelligence nearly as high as the human, and certainly higher than the mutated humans of Kurada. Even independent of the use of the dream-pears, they seem to possess considerable powers of suggestion, or psychic control over humans, and when these powers are exercised upon humans under the influence of the drag, they become absolutely irresistible, as is evident from the traitor Shtenin’s decision to return from Paralov in the face of orders.
The drug would be useful in some of the processes of government, and the rats represent a potential danger. We therefore recommend a second expedition to Kurada to obtain some of the drug and to explore methods of destroying the rats as a prelude to occupation. Samples of the live rats or even of dead ones for analysis would be peculiarly useful.
Long live Toxernn III, Supreme Intelligence of Evadzon!
27th Moridd.
Report from Madsill, Chief of Secret Police
No trace of the traitor Ghenjon or of the large white rats he brought from Kurada in his vehicle has yet been found. However, I have important information which I believe will lead to the capture of both within a few days.
Long live Toxernn III, Supreme Intel
ligence of Evadzon!
13th Avluna.
First Report of the Second Kurada Expedition (by rocket) Intelligent Lord:
Conformable to your orders, the expedition avoided the main highroads to Paralov, where the rats and the human Kuradans would be forewarned, and took a westerly direction. Tonight finds us encamped at the village marked as Tatalo on the old maps, twenty philads inside Kurada. The inhabitants have everywhere received us well, offering us bowls of the dream-pears, which were placed under seal.
As instructed, I have collected two specimens, one of the disproportionately armed species and one of the three-fingered type. They made little objection to accompanying us. The interpreting staff assures me that they will be cooperative in communicating with one of the Little Gods when we have secured one. The Kuradans say they can understand what these rats say.
As also instructed, I laid bare one of the burrows under the border forts; extremely hard work, for the material was highly refractory. At a distance of twenty handspans down, it expanded into a series of chambers, some of which had permanent metal furniture fixed to the wall, but the place was not occupied, and from the debris scattered around, appeared to be deserted. There was an outlet and a very curious aerial for a radio, but no instrument.
Our own radios are inoperative. We have seen no other signs of the Little Gods.
Long live Toxernn III, Supreme Intelligence of Evadzon!
Huntervann, Major-General.
14th Avluna.
Report from Communications Center, 3rd Military District
No reports received from General Huntervann for two days.
16th Avluna.
Report from Communications Center, 3rd Military District
Second Kurada Expedition has just crossed bridge and entered fortified area.
17th Avluna, noon.
Second Report of the Second Kurada Expedition Intelligent Lord:
Your Intelligence has been grievously misinformed.
By conversation with the rats known as “Little Gods” through the Kuradans who can understand their speech, I have learned that they only desire to live in friendly symbiosis with us. I have brought a number of them with me to convince Your Intelligence and the Scientific Board of this. The “Little Gods” are not only friendly, but have a profound knowledge of many technical subjects and will gladly direct us.
As for the fruit known as dream-pears it is actually beneficial in all respects.
I have fortunately secured a generous supply of it.
Long live Toxernn III.
Huntervann, Major-General, 17th Avluna, afternoon, 3rd Military District.
Message to Lieut-General Chon, Commanding 3rd Military District
Arrest General Huntervann and his entire staff at once. Exterminate all white rats.
Toxernn
Message to Intelligence Center Intelligent Lord:
Your Intelligence has been misinformed.
General Huntervann is a loyal and intelligent citizen. His action in bringing the “Little Gods” here will result in untold benefits to all Evadzon. They only desire to live in friendly symbiosis with us, and to give us the benefit of their science. I am dispatching several to the other military districts by plane and combat vehicle with Kuradan interpreters.
Your approval is expected.
I am also sending a supply of dream-pears which, I find, conduce to a better understanding of the “Little Gods.”
Chorr, Lieutenant-General, 18th Avluna.
Message to General Lebartsen, Commander of the Forces Mobilize air force at once. Bomb 3rd Military District with atomics. Destroy all planes and combat vehicles from that point on sight and exterminate any white rats observed.
Toxernn
18th Avluna.
Message to Intelligence Center
Your Intelligence must have met with some accident, or be ill-advised.
Your extraordinary message calling for the bombing of the 3rd Military District and the killing of the “Little Gods” reached me three hours after the arrival of a deputation from General Chorr, accompanied by several of the “Little Gods” themselves. I had a most enjoyable communication with them. They only wish to live in Evadzon, as they do in Kurada, in friendly relationship with us, and to give us the benefit of their science.
They desire me to set a guard around your palace until Your Intelligence recovers from your indisposition, and I am doing so.
I trust that with their assistance, your recovery will soon be assured.
Lebartsen, General
Official Record by Fletcher Pratt. Copyright, 1952, by Space Publications, Inc., and reprinted by permission of Space Publications, Inc., and the author.
FREDRIC BROWN
Fredric Brown, a virtuoso on the Chinese flute as well as on the typewriter, is as well known to mystery readers as he is to science-fiction fans—which is to say, well and favorably indeed. With his attractive and amiable wife, Beth, he makes his home at whatever point on the surface of the civilized world they happen to fancy at any particular moment. You may call his peripatetic production methods informal, if you will; but it’s hard to argue about a system of writing that produces mysteries as successful as The Fabulous Clip joint, science-fiction novels as funny as What Mad Universe, and short stories as memorable as——
Hall of Mirrors
For an instant you think it is temporary blindness, this sudden dark that comes in the middle of a bright afternoon.
It must be blindness, you think; could the sun that was tanning you have gone out instantaneously, leaving you in utter blackness?
Then the nerves of your body tell you that you are standing, whereas only a second ago you were sitting comfortably, almost reclining, in a canvas chair. In the patio of a friend’s house in Beverly Hills. Talking to Barbara, your fiancée. Looking at Barbara—Barbara in a swim suit—her skin golden tan in the brilliant sunshine, beautiful.
You wore swimming trunks. Now you do not feel them on you; the slight pressure of the elastic waistband is no longer there against your waist. You touch your hands to your hips. You are naked. And standing.
Whatever has happened to you is more than a change to sudden darkness or to sudden blindness.
You raise your hands gropingly before you. They touch a plain smooth surface, a wall. You spread them apart and each hand reaches a corner. You pivot slowly. A second wall, then a third, then a door. You are in a closet about four feet square.
Your hand finds the knob of the door. It turns and you push the door open.
There is light now. The door has opened to a lighted room . . . a room that you have never seen before.
It is not large, but it is pleasantly furnished—although the furniture is of a style that is strange to you. Modesty makes you open the door cautiously the rest of the way. But the room is empty of people.
You step into the room, turning to look behind you into the closet, which is now illuminated by light from the room. The closet is and is not a closet; it is the size and shape of one, but it contains nothing, not a single hook, no rod for hanging clothes, no shelf. It is an empty, blank-walled, four-by-four-foot space.
You close the door to it and stand looking around the room. It is about twelve by sixteen feet. There is one door, but it is closed. There are no windows. Five pieces of furniture. Four of them you recognize—more or less. One looks like a very functional desk. One is obviously a chair . . . a comfortable-looking one. There is a table, although its top is on several levels instead of only one. Another is a bed, or couch. Something shimmering is lying across it and you walk over and pick the shimmering something up and examine it. It is a garment.
You are naked, so you put it on. Slippers are part way under the bed (or couch) and you slide your feet into them. They fit, and they feel warm and comfortable as nothing you have ever worn on your feet has felt. Like lamb’s wool, but softer.
You are dressed now. You look at the door—the only door of the room except that of the closet (clo
set?) from which you entered it. You walk to the door and before you try the knob, you see the small typewritten sign pasted just above it that reads:
This door has a time lock set to open in one hour. For reasons you will soon understand, it is better that you do not leave this room before then. There is a letter for you on the desk. Please read it.
It is not signed. You look at the desk and see that there is an envelope lying on it.
You do not yet go to take that envelope from the desk and read the letter that must be in it.
Why not? Because you are frightened.
You see other things about the room. The lighting has no source that you can discover. It comes from nowhere. It is not indirect lighting; the ceiling and the walls are not reflecting it at all.
They didn’t have lighting like that, back where you came from. What did you mean by back where you came from?
You close your eyes. You tell yourself: I am Norman Hastings. I am an associate professor of mathematics at the University of Southern California. I am twenty-five years old, and this is the year nineteen hundred and fifty-four.
You open your eyes and look again.
They didn’t use that style of furniture in Los Angeles—or anywhere else that you know of—in 1954. That thing over in the corner—you can’t even guess what it is. So might your grandfather, at your age, have looked at a television set.
You look down at yourself, at the shimmering garment that you found waiting for you. With thumb and forefinger you feel its texture.
It’s like nothing you’ve ever touched before.
I am Norman Hastings. This is nineteen hundred and fifty-four.