What Rough Beast?

by Jefferson Highe

it?"

  "I've looked up the statistics on foundlings. When the Saucers firstbegan to appear, back in the 20th Century, the number of foundlingsbegan to increase. Not a lot, but some. Then the Saucers disappeared foralmost two and a half centuries and the number decreased. Now, since theOutspacers are once more evident, the number of foundlings has increasedvery greatly."

  "And your other geniuses? All foundlings?"

  "Not all. But that doesn't mean anything--plenty of foundlings areadopted. And who knows which child is an adopted one?"

  Ann Ward sat down again. "You're quite serious about this, John?"

  "There's no way of being sure, but I am convinced."

  "It's frightening."

  "Is Bobby frightening? In all the time I've been tutoring him, has heever been out of line?"

  "Bobby's no alien!"

  "He may be."

  "Well, anyway, of course Bobby isn't frightening. But that business ofthe tigers--_that_ is!"

  "They didn't hurt anyone."

  "No, but don't you see, John? It's--irresponsible. How do you fit it inwith your super-intelligent super-beings?"

  "Ann," he said impatiently, "we're dealing with fantasticallyintelligent beings, but beings who are still _children_--can't youunderstand that? They're just finding out their powers--one is atelepath, another levitates, a third is a teleport. A riot is started byAlec Cress or Jacky Hodge or one of those 3R hoodlums. And our childgenius can't resist making a kind of joke of his own."

  "Joke? With _tigers_? John, I tell you I'm frightened." Her husband saidnothing and she looked at him sharply. "You _hope_ it's this way, don'tyou?"

  For a moment he didn't answer. Then he sighed. "Yes. Yes, I do bothbelieve and hope I'm right, Ann. I never thought that I'd be willing togive up the struggle--that's what it amounts to. But I don't think thehuman race can manage itself any more. So, I'm willing and glad to havesome other race teach us how to live. I know we've always looked on theidea of domination by some race from the stars with both terror andrevulsion. But we've made such a mess of things on Earth that I, atleast, would be glad to see them come."

  After a while, Ann said, "I've got to do some shopping for supper."

  She began mechanically putting her work away.

  "You're shocked?"

  "Yes. And relieved, too, a little. And, at the same time, still a bitfrightened."

  "It's probably for the best."

  "Yes. It's sad, though. Have you told this to anyone else?"

  "No. After all, it's still only a theory. I've got to find some kind ofproof. Except that I don't know how."

  "You've convinced me." She stood in the doorway, then turned to him andhe could see that she was crying. She dashed the tears from her eyes. "Isuppose we have to go on doing the same things. We have to have dinnertonight. I must shop...."

  He took her in his arms. "It'll be all right," he said.

  "I feel so helpless! What are you going to _do_?"

  "Right now," he said, "I think I'll go fishing."

  Ann began to laugh, a little hysterically. "You _are_ relaxed about it,"she said.

  "Might as well relax and give it more thought."

  Ann kissed him and went into the kitchen. She was gone when he came outwith his rod and creel. Going down the walk under the trees, he wasaware again of what a fine autumn afternoon it was. He began to whistleas he went down the hill toward the stream.

  He didn't catch anything, of course. He had fished the pool at least ahundred times without luck, but that did not matter. He knew there was afighting old bass in its depths and, probably, he would have been sorryto catch him. Now, his line gently agitated the dark water as he satunder a big tree on the stream bank and smoked. Idly he opened the copyof Yeats' poems and began reading: _Turning and turning in the wideninggyre...._

  In mounting excitement, he read the coldly beautiful, the terrible andrevelatory poem through to the end. _And what rough beast, its hour comeround at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?_

  Ward became aware that his pipe was out. He put it away, feeling thegoose pimples, generated by the poem, leave his flesh. Then he shookhimself and sighed. We're lucky, he thought, it might have been the waythe old boy predicted it in the poem. It might have been terrible.

  He sighed again, watching his line in the dark water, and thought ofBobby. You could hardly call Bobby a rough beast. The line flickered inthe water and then was still. He would have a lot of time for this kindof life, he thought, if his theory were correct. He watched a flight ofleaves dapple the pool with the insignia of autumn. He was not sure hewanted to spend a lifetime fishing.

  Suddenly the pool exploded into motion, the water frothed and flashedwhite and the line in his hand sang like a piano wire. Automatically, hejerked his line and began to reel in, at the same time his mind wastelling him no line of its weight could long hold what he had hooked. Assuddenly as the action had begun, it was ended and he was pullingsomething heavy against the stream bank. He gaped at it, his eyespopping. Then he heard the rustle of leaves and the snap of a stickbehind him.

  "Catch somep'n, teach'?" a voice asked.

  "Yes, I caught something." He got his tobacco pouch from his pocket andfilled his pipe, trying to keep his hands from trembling.

  "Gee, he's a _big_ one, teach'," the voice said.

  Ward stood up. The boy, Jacky Hodge, leaning over the bank looking downat the fish. Behind him, Ward saw Bobby, Alec Cress, Danny and severalothers. _Now which of you is laughing?_ he wondered. But there was noway to tell. Jacky, a boy of twelve or thirteen, had his usual look ofstupid good nature. Bobby, under the flambeau of red hair, dreamed atthe fish. The others wore the open poker faces of children.

  "That's a _funny_ fish," one of them said and then they were alllaughing as they raced away.

  With some difficulty, Ward got the fish out of the water and began todrag it up the hill toward his house.

  "Outspace fish," Ward said as he dumped the thing on the work tablewhere Ann had deposited the bag of groceries.

  "Where did you get _that_?"

  "I just caught it. Down in the stream."

  "_That?_ In our stream?"

  "Yeah."

  He looked at it. The fish resembled a small marlin in shape, but itlooked as if its sides had been painted by an abstract artist.

  "They planted it on my hook," he told her. "Teleported it from somewhereand planted it on me. Like the tigers."

  "Who?"

  "I don't know--one of the kids. There were a bunch of them down by theriver."

  "Is it the proof you wanted?"

  "Almost. I'd like to make them--whoever they are--admit it, though. Butyou can't pry anything out of them. They stick together like--like kids,I guess. Tell me, why is it that the smart ones don't discriminate?They'd as soon play with morons like Hodge or Cress as with the brainyones."

  "Democratic, I guess," Ann said. She looked at the fish withoutenthusiasm and turned it over on its other side. "Weren't you the sameway, when you were a boy?"

  "Guess so. Leader of my group was almost an idiot. Head of the 3Rs now."He started to put his fishing tackle away. "Got to get ready for StarWatch," he said. "I'm on the early trick tonight." He halted in thekitchen doorway, still holding the rod and creel. He looked back at thefish. "That kind of thing is likely to take all the fun out of fishing,"he told her.

  * * * * *

  Usually, he found Star Watch a bore. There were often Saucer sightings,it was true. He had had many himself, some of them very close in, butall that had become routine. At first, the government had tried shootingthem down, but the attempts had ended in total failure and the Saucersstill came, aloof and unreasonable, as if they did not even know thatthey were being shot at. Later, communication had been tried--but withno better results.

  Now, when the Saucers were sighted, the Watcher phoned in a report, somebored plotter in Saucer Control took bearings and speed, or replied thatthey had the thing on radar. The next da
y, the score of sightings wouldbe Spellcast--it was less exciting than watching for grunnion.

  Tonight, however, Ward was excited. As he left his house, he set out ata fast pace for the school. He found Bobby in front of the boys'dormitory.

  "What is it, John?" the boy called as he trotted over to the teacher.

  "How'd you like to come on Star Watch with me?"

  "All right." They went down the street together.

  "I want to try something," Ward