by Mark Clifton
bad? Both are operating within known physicallaws. With millions of years to go, wasn't it likely we would go ondiscovering the laws governing how things worked? Until one by one wehad to give up all notion of good and bad happenings? Understood themas only the operation of natural law? In all the universe, how couldthere be any such thing as unnatural happenings?
"Don't worry about it, Johnny," I said as we started walking again."And don't worry about your career, either. Aunt Mattie likes you, andshe's mighty pleased with the results of her work out here. Certainpeople in the State Department may consider her a bit of a meddlesomepest, but make no mistake about it, every politician in the universetrembles in his boots at the very mention of the D.T.'s. And she likesyou, Johnny."
"Thanks, Hap," he said as we came to a stop before the doorway of thehotel. "I'll see you before your ship takes off. Oh--ah--you won'ttell her she covered up the wrong--well what she would think was thewrong part?"
"I could have told her that last night," I said.
He walked away with that startled, incredulous look he'd worn eversince our arrival.
* * * * *
On Earth Aunt Mattie had to rush off to a convention of D.T.'s, whereI had no doubt her latest exploit in combating ignorance and sin wouldbe the main topic of conversation and add to the triumph of herlionization. To give her credit, I think this lionization botheredher, embarrassed her a little, and she probably wondered at times ifit were all sincere. But I also think she would have been lonely anddisappointed without it. When one is doing all he can to make theuniverse we have inherited a better place for our posterity to inheritone likes it to be appreciated.
For two or three weeks after she came back home, she was immersed inadministrative duties for the D.T., setting wheels in motion to carryout all the promises she'd made at the convention.
I spent the time in my own suite in the south wing of our house.Mostly, I just sat. No one bothered me except the servants necessaryto eating, dressing, sleeping, and they were all but mute about it. Mypsychiatrist called once, but I sent word that I didn't need anytoday. I called none of my regular friends and did not answer theirmessages.
I did send to the Library of Science in Washington for the originalscience survey report on Capella IV. It told me little, but allowed meto surmise some things. Apparently the original scientists weresingularly uncurious about the octopoids, perhaps because they didn'thave five years to hang around and wait for one to blink an eye, asJohnny had. As always, they were overworked and understaffed, they didtheir quick survey and rushed on to some new planet job. If one hopedthat someday somebody might go back and take another look at theoctopoids I found no burning yearning for it in the dry reports.
As far as they went, their surmise was accurate. Some millions, manymillions of years ago, the planet had lost the last of its oceanwater. Apparently, as they failed to adapt to the increasing salinityof the little left, one by one the original life forms died out.Something in the octopoid metabolism (or mentality?) allowed them tosurvive, to become land instead of water animals. Something in theirmetabolism (or mentality?) allowed them to subsist on the air andsunlight. (Really now? Did they even need these?) That was as far asthe reports went.
They did not draw the picture of highly developed mentalities who laythere for millions of years and thought about the nature of being.Such things as how mental manipulation of force fields can provideeach of them with a cigarette lighter that burns without any fluid init and any oxygen around its wick, or such things as mother hubbardswhich had caught their fancy, or perhaps gave them some kind ofsensual kick caused by heat filtering through red cloth.
But mostly I just sat.
I went to see Aunt Mattie when she came back from the convention, ofcourse. She had the west wing where her sitting room looked out uponher flora collection--and the gardeners who were supposed to keepbusy. Our greeting was fond, but brief. She did look at me ratherquizzically, rather shrewdly, but she made no comment. She did notreturn my visit.
This was not unusual. She never visited my suite. When I wastwenty-one she took me into the south wing and said, "Choose your ownsuite, Hapland. You are a man now, and I understand about young men."If she had in mind what I thought she had it was a mighty bigconcession to reality, although, of course, she was five years late incoming around to it.
This older generation--so wise, so naive. She probably resolutelyrefrained from imagining far worse things than really went on.
About two weeks after she'd come back from the convention, a monthsince we returned from Capella IV, there was an interruption, anexcited one. For once in his life the butler forgot to touch my doorwith feather fingertips and cough discreetly. Instead he knocked twosharp raps, and opened the door without invitation.
"Come quickly, Master Hapland," he chittered urgently. "There arecreatures on our private landing field."
There were, too.
When I got there in my garden scooter, and pushed my way through thecrowd of gardeners who were clustered on the path and around the gateto the landing field, I saw them. At least a dozen of the Capella IVoctopoids were spread eagled, their tentacles out flat on the hotcement of the runway. Their eye stared unblinking into the sun. Overtheir spread of tentacles, like inverted hibiscus blossoms, they woretheir mother hubbards.
Behind them, over at the far edge of the field, was an exact duplicateof our own space yacht. I wondered, rather hysterically perhaps, ifeach of them on Capella IV now had one. I suspected the yacht wassimply there for show, that they hadn't needed it, not any more thanthey needed the mother hubbards.
There was the hiss of another scooter, and I turned around to see AuntMattie come to a stop. She stepped out and came over to me.
"Our social call on Capella IV is being returned," I said with a grinand twinkle at her.
She took in the sight with only one blink.
"Very well," she answered. "I shall receive them, of course." Somebodyonce said that the most snobbish thing about the whole tribe of Tombswas that they'd never learned the meaning of the word, or had to. ButI did wonder what the servants would think when the creatures startedslithering into our drawing room.
There was a gasp and a low rumble of protesting voices from thegardeners as Aunt Mattie opened the gate and walked through it. Ifollowed, of course. We walked up to the nearest monster and came tostop at the edge of its skirt.
"I'm deeply honored," Aunt Mattie said with more cordiality than I'dseen her use on a Secretary of State. "What can I do to make yourvisit to Earth more comfortable?"
There was no reply, not even the flicker of a tentacle.
They were even more unusual than one might expect. Aunt Mattieresolutely went to each of the dozen and gave the same greeting. Shefelt her duty as a hostess required it, although I knew that agreeting to one was a greeting to all. Not one of them responded. Itseemed rather ridiculous. They'd come all this way to see us, thendidn't bother to acknowledge that we were there.
We spent more than an hour waiting for some kind of a response. Nonecame. Aunt Mattie showed no sign of impatience, which I thought wasrather praiseworthy, all things considered. But finally we left. Shedidn't show what she felt, perhaps felt only that one had to bepatient with the lack of manners in the lower orders.
I was more interested in another kind of feeling, the one we leftbehind. What was it? I couldn't put my finger on it. Sadness? Regret?Distaste? Pity? Magnanimity? Give a basket of goodies to the poor atChristmas? Give them some clothes to cover their nakedness? Teach thema sense of shame?
No, I couldn't put my finger on it.
Hilarity?
I found myself regretting that back there on Capella IV, when AuntMattie put clothes on him, and the monster had looked at me, I winked.
I wondered why I should regret that.
* * * * *
I didn't have long to wonder.
Nothing happened during the rest of the day. We went back, togetherand sepa
rately, several times during the daylight hours and during theearly hours of the night. For a wonder, nobody had leaked anything tothe newspapers, and for what it was worth, we had the show toourselves.
"Perhaps tomorrow," Aunt Mattie said around midnight, as we left thefield for the last time. "Perhaps they must rest."
"I could use some of that," I said with a yawn.
"Yes, Hapland," she agreed. "We must conserve our strength. Heavenknows what may be required of us on the morrow."
Did she feel something, too? It was so strong, how could she help it?And yet, the monster had not looked into her eye.
I didn't expect to sleep well, but I fooled myself. I was quite sure Ihadn't more than closed my eyes when I was roused by another excitedrapping on my bedroom door and again the butler rushed in withoutceremony.
"Look, Master