Complete Fiction (Jerry eBooks)

by Everett B. Cole

  Elaine stamped her foot. “You know I haven’t been out of this apartment,” she cried. “And you know why. I simply couldn’t stand the treatment I got. I’d have gotten into serious trouble in minutes. So, I’ve stayed in. I’ve done my shopping by communicator, and contented myself right here.” She paused.

  “But how is the new administration going to be supported? What are people going to do? How are they taking it? It’s all so sudden, I should think—”

  Graham held up a hand.

  “Hey,” he protested. “One at a time, please! First—remember taxes? Remember how we used to growl about them? They’re back. And I love ’em. Second—nobody is going to do anything. Anything drastic or unusual, that is. And finally? Everyone I’ve seen is taking it in their stride. Seems as though they’ve been sort of expecting it, ever since they started mind-to-mind communication.

  “You’d be surprised how good most people are at it, now that they’re used to it. You start into a line of helicopters. All at once, you realize that the guy coming is really in a hurry. He’s got to get somewhere, fast. So, you let him go by. The next fellow’s not going to be in any tearing rush. He’ll let you in, and cheer you on your way.

  “You feel like being left alone? Nobody’ll even notice you. But if you feel like talking, half a dozen total strangers’ll find something in common with you. And they’ll discuss it. Honey, you’ll be surprised how much you’ve missed. Get your mentacom. Let’s take a little shopping trip.”

  “And here’s one of our more difficult cases. But he’s coming along nicely.” Dr. Moran pointed through the one-way window.

  “Name’s Howard Morely. He used to be a district leader, under the bureaucracy. But along in the last few weeks, just before the change, he got into some sort of scrape. They questioned him, and declared him unfit for service. Put him out on a pension.” He pulled at an ear.

  “Matter of fact, I understand his case had quite a deal to do with the change—sort of triggered it. They tell me it sort of pointed up the fallacies of the bureaucracy.” He shrugged.

  “But that’s unimportant now, I guess. He almost receded into complete paranoia. Had a virtually complete case of empathic paralysis when he came to us. Simply no conception of any other person’s point of view, and a hatred of people that was fantastic. But he’s nearly normal now.”

  The visiting psychiatrist nodded. “I’ve seen the type, of course. We have a number of them, too. You say this new technique was successfully used in his case?”

  “Yes. We had doubts of it, too. Seemed too simple. Sure, we’re all familiar with the mentacoms by now. Wouldn’t be without my own. But the idea of a field generator so powerful as to force clear impressions into a crippled mind like his, without completely destroying that mind, seemed a little fantastic.” He shrugged.

  “In this case, though, it was a last resort, so we tried it. He resisted the field for days. Simply sat in his cell and stared at the walls. We were almost ready to give up when one of the operators finally got through to him. Know what his first visualization was?”

  The visitor shook his head and laughed. “I could try a guess, I suppose,” he said, “but my chances would be something less than one in a thousand million.”

  Moran grinned. “You’re so right. There was a whole bunch of kids standing around. Looked like dozens of ’em. And they were all chanting at the top of their voices. You know that old jingle? ‘Howie’s got a gir-rul?’ Chanted it over and over.” The grin widened. “Operator said his face stung for ten minutes. That girl must have packed one sweet wallop!”

  THE END

  Indirection

  The best way to keep a secret is to publish it in a quite unbelievable form—and insist that it is the truth.

  Elwar Forell leaned back in his chair, looking about the small dining salon. The usual couples were there, he noticed. Of course, the faces were different from those of last evening, but the poses were similar. And the people were there for the same reasons. They were enjoying the food and drinks, just as many others had enjoyed them before. But like all those others, their greater enjoyment was in the company of one another. Forell glanced at the vacant chair across the table from him and sighed.

  It would be nice, he thought, if—But any arrangement involving a permanent companion would be hardly practical under his circumstances. After all, prudence dictated limits.

  He picked up his cup and drained it, then leaned back and beckoned the waiter over.

  “The reckoning, please,” he ordered.

  He looked again at the letter on the table before him, then folded it and put it in his pocket. It was well, he thought. His latest book of fairy tales and fantasy had enjoyed good acceptance. And the check in the letter had been of satisfactory size. He smiled to himself. There were compensations in this job of his. It seemed to be profitable to have a purpose other than the obvious and usual one.

  He paid his bill and left the restaurant, to walk slowly along the street, enjoying the mild, spring air.

  As he passed a sidewalk café, a man beckoned from one of the tables.

  “Oh, Forell,” he called. “I was hoping I’d see you this evening.” He held up a book.

  “Just finished your ‘Tales of the Sorcerers,’ ” he added. “Some of those yarns of yours seem almost real.”

  Elwar Forell nodded. They should, he thought. Factual material, however disguised, often shines through its fictional background. And he had an inexhaustible source of material, drawn from many sources. He twisted his face into a gratified smile.

  “That’s my objective,” he said aloud. “I do all in my power to place the reader inside the story.”

  Charo Andorra nodded. “It’s the secret of good fiction, I know,” he admitted, “and every storyteller tries to do it. But I seem to see more than that in your stuff. There’s an almost believable pattern.” He hesitated. “You know, while I’m reading it, I can almost see beings of superior powers walking the earth. And sometimes, I visualize us working with them.” He laughed shortly.

  “Of course, I may be more credulous and imaginative than most. Probably why I’m a critic. And I really should know better.” He looked down at the book in his hands.

  “But that stuff of yours can be mighty convincing.” He tilted his head. “Somehow, I can’t help but look at some of the old legends—and some of the things that have happened in more recent years, too. Can’t help but wonder if we actually are babes of the cosmos, and if we haven’t been visited and watched by some form of extra-planetary life at one time or another.”

  Forell looked closely at his friend. Andorra, he knew, was a clear thinker in his own right. And he just might start a serious analysis—and publish it. He grimaced. It wasn’t time for that, he knew. Many years must pass before it would be time.

  He placed a hand on the back of Andorra’s chair, remembering the words of one of the teachers.

  “Remember, Elwar,” he had been told, “your objective is clear, but your methods must be most indirect—even unclear. Some things you must obscure in a mass of obviously imaginative detail, while you bring others to the fore. You must hint. You must suggest. You should never fully explain or deny. And you must never be guilty of definite, direct falsehood.

  “There may come a time when you will be directly questioned—when discovery of your real background and purpose seems imminent, and you will have to take positive action. For such an eventuality, I cannot outline any steps, or even any definite plan of action, since I neither fully understand many of the factors involved, nor have any way of knowing the circumstances which may arise. You’ll have to prepare yourself for almost anything, always keeping in mind the peculiarities and capabilities of your own people.”

  It looked as though the time might have come. If Andorra, a clever, influential critic, should guess at the real background and the sources of the Forell tales, and if he should misunderstand the motives behind those tales, he would probably publish his thoughts. And those t
houghts would be widely read. Many would smile as they read and regard the thing as a hoax. But others might start their own analyses. And some of those might come to highly un-

  desirable conclusions and cause undesirable, even disastrous, reactions. It would be many generations before clear explanations could be made and definite principles outlined without causing misunderstanding and serious damage. The Forell tales were evasive and preparatory as well as vaguely instructive.

  He recovered his self-discipline and waved his hand negligently.

  “You know, Charo,” he said laughingly, “I’ve been thinking along similar lines for a long while. Of course, you know I must have built up some sort of fantasy world to base my yarns on?”

  Andorra nodded. “That’s obvious. I’ve been wondering about some of your basic theory. Like to see your notes some time.”

  Forell spread his hands. “You’re quite welcome to look them over,” he said. “Come on up to my rooms now.” He smiled. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been doing a little extension on my dream world. Built up a little sketch a while ago, and I’m not just sure what to do with it.”

  As they entered the study, Forell walked across to his desk. He fumbled for a few seconds under the desk, then opened a drawer. For a moment, he paused, looking inside, then pulled out a thin folder. Again, he hesitated. At last, he picked a small, metallic object from the drawer and held it in his left hand.

  “Might need this,” he told himself. “If I’m wrong, it’ll take a sector patrolman to straighten out the mess. And I could be wrong—two ways.”

  Casually, he placed his left hand in his pocket, then he turned toward Andorra, holding out the folder.

  “Here,” he said. “See what you think of this one.”

  Andorra opened the folder, taking out a few sheets of paper. He read for a moment, then looked up quizzically.

  “A little different from your usual style, isn’t it?”

  Forell nodded, watching the man tensely. “I’m trying something new,” he said. “Go ahead and read it, then tell me what you think.”

  He busied himself with a bottle and glasses.

  INFORMAL MEMO

  130-263

  From: Explorations Officer, Sector Nine

  To: Ecological Officer

  Subject: Incident Report

  Enclosed is the file on that recent occurrence on Planet 3-G3-9/4871, consisting of the certificates and statements of the various officers and guardsmen concerned, together with a digest of the interrogation of Elwar Forell, a young planetary native, who appears to have been the instigator.

  It seems to me that something is seriously wrong with our system of operation, at least on the subject planet. After all, our operations have the purpose of research and observation, with a view to protection and development. Certainly, we cannot create chaos. And knowledge of our existence by very young cultures would certainly cause just that. We’ve got to clear this up in a hurry. The Elder Galactics are most certain to be unhappy about it in any event, and I don’t like to make them unhappy.

  Obviously, there was a chain of errors, and some of our people concerned will have to be reassigned for further training, but that’s just the beginning. I’ve recalled all the observers from this planet, pending reorganization, and we’ve got to come up with an answer that’ll prevent further occurrences of this nature, as well as covering this affair on the planet concerned.

  I realize that the situation has some of the elements of comedy, and I presume that it will eventually be regarded with considerable amusement, but right at the moment, my sense of humor is working very poorly.

  I have a few ideas of my own, but would like to have your recommendations and those of other section officers before I make any final decision or report. I am calling a conference on this incident at 280.1000, so make a full investigation on this, and give me some practical recommendation as soon as possible. CIJORN

  6 enclosures

  STATEMENT

  I, Florand Anremdor, am assigned to the Communications Branch, Exploratory Section, Sector Nine.

  At 261.0196, I was on duty in the emergency communications room at Increment Four. A call came in from Resident Station number fourteen, Planet 3-G3-9/4871, requesting emergency condensation over the immediate station area. Co-ordinates were not given and I checked the planetary co-ordinates with the call sign and the Communications List. I added these to the message and forwarded the request to the Patrol Duty Officer for his action.

  There was no visual on the call, but the voice sounded urgent. I relayed the request without requiring special authentication, since the station was precisely on the correct settings, no inimical culture is known to be operating in this sector, and the coded call was correct. At the time, I had no way of suspecting that this was not a genuine emergency call.

  Florand Anremdor

  Comm. 1/c

  CERTIFICATE

  I, Captain Binkar Morancos, am assigned to the 334th Vector, which is presently under the orders of the Commander, Sector Nine.

  I was assigned as Sector Patrol Duty Officer at 261.0200, when a message was relayed from Increment Four, requesting emergency condensation on a planet in that increment. I checked the co-ordinates and data furnished, consulted the situation chart, and instructed Cruiser P-4730, Captain Klorantel commanding, to carry out the mission.

  Since the message came through normal channels, I had no doubt as to its authenticity, and treated it as routine. I felt that the cruiser commander could deal with the matter at his discretion.

  Binkar Morancos

  Capt. StG(C)

  CERTIFICATE

  I, Captain Corrondao Klorantel, am in command of the Stellar Guard Cruiser Myloren, number P-4730. I am assigned to duty with the 334th Vector, which is operating in Sector Nine.

  The Myloren was on routine patrol in the Fourth Increment at 261.0203, when a message was received from Sector Headquarters, giving co-ordinates on Planet 3-G3-9/4871, with a request for emergency condensation. I proceeded to the subject planet and took position outside the atmosphere. Visual checks failed to show any emergency condition on the surface, though a burned-out area was noted in the forest a short distance to the planetary south of the station concerned. A call was made to the resident station, requesting clarification of the request, and the answer proved to be unsatisfactory.

  There was no visual transmission, and the voice was strongly accented. The message gave insufficient data for action, contained no identification, and was in improper form for station-to-ship contact. I decided to make contact by other means, and shifted my secondary communicator to the guardsman’s personal settings, requesting further information, suitable identification, and confirmation of the request. Guardsman Jaeger immediately informed me that the call was spurious, stating that he was away from his station, and that he would return immediately. During the conversation, I noted that full condensation was taking place to atmospheric limits.

  I called Auxiliary, and Technician Melran stated that his control circuits were inoperative and that he was tracing the difficulty. He cleared the trouble, but condensation had already been established and precipitation had commenced. I ordered re-absorption, which was started as soon as repairs had been accomplished.

  At the request of Guardsman Jaeger, we stood by to render aid if necessary, maintaining contact with his station. At 0572, Jaeger requested immediate evacuation for himself and for one other person. I entered atmosphere, made planetfall with nullified visibility, and took off the guardsman and a young native. During the evacuation, I noted a number of natives armed with various implements, who were attempting to break their way into the station. Guardsman Jaeger fired his demolitions as he left, firing the screen generator with his last flare. For a few minutes, the natives fell back before the flames, but they were entering the station by the time we cleared the planet. It is believed that the installation was completely destroyed.

  Corrondao Klorantel

  Capt. StG(C)
>
  Commanding P-4730

  STATEMENT

  I, Danaeo Melran, am assigned to the Patrol Cruiser Myloren, number P-4730, for duty.

  At 261.0204, I was on duty in Auxiliary Equipment when Captain Klorantel called, informing me that a request had come in for emergency condensation. He told me to set up and await execution order. I preset two forward radiators for forty kilometers at low condensation, with a three kilometer radius at surface. I then put the controls on automatic trigger, notified the captain, and went on with my normal duties. At 0221, we came out of trans-light, and I adjusted my equipment for slow-drive operation.

  At 0223, my indicators showed activity on the forward radiators. I checked and discovered that full power was being applied. Attempts to override the automatics were unsuccessful, and while I was attempting to clear the trouble, the captain called again, saying that the request was false, and asking why I had turned the radiators on. I told him that the controls were jammed, and he instructed me to make repairs and set up re-absorption.

  I discovered a short between the automatic trigger and the ship’s secondary communication antenna. After clearing this, I found trouble in the control section of the condensation driver. The automatic trigger had become fused, and the control paths were shorted to full-drive throughout. The sub-assemblies were replaced and trouble cleared by 0300. I then set up re-absorption as ordered.

  Danaeo Melran

  Eq Tech 3/c

  STATEMENT

  I, Franz Jaeger, am Resident Guardsman at Station Fourteen, Planet 3-G3-9/4871.

  I have been assigned to my station for eight planetary years for survey and observation duty. During the past five years, I have employed Elwar Forell, the son of a local peasant, to keep the living quarters clean and to do general work about the station. I have never discussed the possibilities of extra-planetary civilization with him, and I have been careful to exclude him from knowledge of my technical equipment, which I have kept in a secure room in accordance with regulations. I have presented myself to him, as well as to all the villagers in my area, as a scholar, tired of city life, and desirous of a quiet existence.