Orbit 13 - [Anthology]

by Edited by Damon Knight

  “Never mind that stuff, I want to hear some more about pornography,” said Creel. “Why do Brown and Green read it all the time?”

  Sister gave us a long lecture and we were all ears.

  * * * *

  I sat in the hot sun and cried. Didn’t know why, just felt like crying.

  “Darkness making faces?” said Creel. She stood behind me and patted my head.

  “Something sure is.”

  Pat, pat went her two hands on my head. I didn’t know which arms she was moving. It had to be only one pair, because she couldn’t use all of them at once. While she used one pair the other hung limp.

  “You think maybe we’re getting smarter since we found Sister?”

  “We have more information, that’s all,” I said. “We ask Sister a question and she answers it, but we don’t know what it means or how to use it any better than we did before.”

  Creel patted my head. “I feel intelligent today. Think I’ll ask her how Idio works.”

  “Done asked her. It works like a relay. The action goes from my head to yours, then to Genadee, then to the Cycler and back to me again.”

  Just then Genadee came out of the shack and saw us. She stomped over and kicked sand on my feet.

  “Let’s do something.”

  “Like what?” I said.

  “Hell, I don’t know, let’s just get clicking.”

  We went to spy on Brown and Green. Their shack was no better on the outside than ours, but they kept the inside in order and it was a pleasure to look at it. Keeping things neat was something Idio found impossible. We peeked in one of the windows and saw them lying on their bunks looking at pictures.

  “Remember what Sister said about appetite?” said Creel. “Those two nice boys are suffering from lack of tactile stimulation, and it’s a shame. We ought to do them a favor.”

  “What does that mean?” said Genadee.

  Creel looked at me. “You know what I’m thinking?”

  “Yeah, except none of us looks like those pictures.”

  “Sure as hell you or me don’t, but I been imagining Genadee here and the more I imagine it the better she looks.”

  “What you talking about?” yelled Genadee.

  Brown and Green heard her and threw away their magazines and got up cussing. Creel and I dragged our partner back to the shack and made her take a bath.

  “How come you guys aren’t getting in here with me?” she wanted to know.

  “You’re the one we’re trying to make good-looking,” I said.

  * * * *

  The septic tank backed up into the shack, so Genadee and I took off for the sand and sun. We sat talking, and after a while Brown came out of his shack, yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “What’s that smell?”

  I told him.

  He cussed for a while. “If I wanted to know anything I wouldn’t ask a mushmouth. It’s that damned tank again. I told you to quit flushing beer cans. Well, you’ll all have to get out of here till we get it cleaned up. Where’s the other one?”

  I jabbed a hand toward the shack.

  “It’ll have to get out, too,” he said. “Can’t have your valuable selves getting contaminated.”

  “If I was you I wouldn’t go in there. Creel’s on the can and she isn’t amiable—”

  “Mushmouth,” he said. He looked at Genadee.

  We had made her wear a piece of curtain to hide her gourd figure. She looked pretty damn good. Her hair was her best feature. Thick and glossy, it was just like fur and fit her head neat, and brushed back the way it was, she didn’t look too much like a throwback to the cave. Her widow’s peak was so pronounced that she sort of resembled Dracula, but sitting there in the sun with her cheeks rosy and her eyes glittering . . . well, anyhow, Brown looked at her.

  He took off toward the shack, and again I said, “If I was you I wouldn’t go in there.”

  In he went, then a few minutes later came a ruckus, then he ran outside holding his stomach.

  “Goddamn,” he said and went away to find Green so they could clean our house.

  For supper we had ham and spinach. Creel and I sat on either side of Genadee and made her eat slow. We kept her chin clean and whenever she started growling we pinched her gourds.

  “Just for that you have to stand in the corner,” said Brown. He was eyeing Creel.

  “What’d I do?”

  “You threw your plate on the floor, mushmouth. Get up and stand in the corner, both of you.”

  I got up grinning, looked from him to Genadee.

  “She didn’t do anything,” he said. “She’s acting like a lady. You two are hogs.”

  Creel and I shoved our faces into the same corner. Knocking her out of the way, I said, “Go find your own.”

  It took her five minutes of standing still to faint. I followed a second later and as I dropped I hoped Genadee wouldn’t slam into her plate and mess her makeup.

  I needn’t have worried. Woke up and found Brown had pulled the plate away and stuck a pillow there. Genadee wasn’t messed and she didn’t have a sore head.

  * * * *

  I was in love with Brown.

  “Tit, tit, tit, tit, tit.” Five buttons punched. Nothing to do.

  We went and beautified Genadee some more, cut her fingernails, scrubbed them with Creel’s toothbrush, then we put red polish on them. Had to do something about that black fuzz on her upper lip. Sandpapered it off while she bellowed.

  Spent the afternoon drinking beer. So hot I finally took a bath. The septic tank backed up again so my feet stunk worse than ever, but they smelled better than Creel’s.

  “Tit, tit, tit, tit, tit.” Five buttons pushed. Nothing to do.

  We laid around on the sand most of the evening.

  “Let’s do something,” said Creel.

  “Like what?” said Genadee.

  “Like shut up,” I said. “What’s those lights up there?”

  “You know damn well they’re stars,” said Creel.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. What are we gonna do when Brown and Green fall in love with Genadee?”

  “We’re gonna watch.”

  * * * *

  “Tit, tit, tit, tit, tit.” Five buttons pushed. Nothing to do.

  Creel and I built another shack. Brown and Green yelled at us and told us to quit it. They had the sweats. Everytime I saw one of them he was dripping sweat. Creel and I paid no attention to them.

  “Genadee don’t want to live with us,” I told them, but they didn’t understand.

  “She is a lady, or don’t you have eyes?” I said.

  “The thing of it is, she’s been taking a bath twice a day and she can’t stand Creel and me,” I said.

  They went away cussing and we went on with the work. Sun was nice and warm.

  “I feel dizzy,” said Creel all of a sudden.

  I started to raise my head toward her, then the lights went out.

  We woke up on the sand. We went to the shack to find Genadee. She was taking a bath and drinking my beer.

  “You took a nap, didn’t you?” said Creel.

  She squirted beer through her teeth and spattered the wall. “So what?”

  “So get out of that tub and get hell beat out of yourself. You know the rules. You can’t take naps or fall unconscious without our permission. We are out there breaking our asses building you a house and you’re in here falling asleep. Suppose one of us had been on the roof when you conked out?”

  This time the beer was squirted on us. “Kiss off. Brown and Green think more of me than they do you pigs, and if you don’t—”

  That was as far as she got. We hauled her out of the tub and laid her bellydown on the bed and beat her gourds till they were blue.

  * * * *

  We got bawled out because we forgot to punch the buttons. Somebody from “out there” called on the phone and bawled Brown out. After he hung up he bawled Green out, then they both came and bawled us out.

  “Quit working
on this shack and do your job,” said Brown. He had the sweats. From the corner of his eye he watched Genadee. She was building castles in the sand, and damn if she didn’t look like a sweet little angel. Vampirish but still angelic. Matter of fact, the vampire part helped the other.

  Creel and I watched her too, and we were thinking the same thing. If she didn’t look up and smile, she wasn’t going to be able to sit while she ate supper.

  Up she looked. Big smile. Pretty as anything.

  * * * *

  We laid in bed and listened to Genadee cry. Couldn’t go to sleep listening to her. She hated sleeping in her new shack by herself.

  “You lied to Brown,” she had sobbed. “You told him I didn’t want to live with you all anymore.”

  “You have to live alone,” Creel said.

  “Why?”

  “A scientific experiment.”

  “No idiot can experiment,” said Genadee scornfully.

  “No, but an Idio can and that’s what we are. Now shut up.”

  “You guys have to move in here with me.”

  She stayed awake three nights.

  “Can’t stand it anymore,” I said to Creel. “I’m tired.”

  “Only one thing to do. We got to move in with her.”

  “Brown and Green won’t come if we’re in there,” I said.

  “Well, what if they don’t know we’re in there?”

  * * * *

  It was a warm night and the shack felt stuffy. Genadee was snoring, but she wasn’t asleep. I went over and pinched a gourd. She quit snoring and began singing her rosary. She did it softly so it wouldn’t get on our nerves.

  Creel opened a window and mosquitoes came in. We had forgotten to put up screens.

  Genadee’s bed was on one side of the shack. Creel and I were in the corner nearest the door. Bugs were making a racket. The shack was stuffy, but I was feeling good. Sprawled out on the straw mat, I relaxed and wandered about God.

  “Move over, you’re hogging the bed,” I said to Creel.

  Over she went.

  “Which one of us is gonna put the others to sleep?” she whispered.

  “Sure not Genadee.”

  We listened to the prayers being sung.

  “If you want to know what I think, I think she is the dumbest of us,” Creel whispered. “What do you think?”

  “Agree.”

  “What was that noise?”

  I rolled over and sniffed the straw under me. “Didn’t hear anything.”

  She listened for a minute before she went on whispering. “The thing of it is, Genadee doesn’t seem curious about much of anything.”

  “She don’t, for a fact.”

  Laying a hand on my arm, Creel said, “Shhh.”

  “Huh?”

  “Keep quiet, I hear something.”

  The moon came in and flew around as the shack door opened. With it came Brown and Green. They were pretty boys when they were dressed and they were pretty when they had nothing on. I couldn’t see them perfectly, but I knew they had the sweats. Their voices dripped.

  “Shut the door, she might start yelling.” That was Brown whispering.

  “Oh, let’s get out of here, we don’t have to be this hard up.” That was Green whispering.

  The door closed and the moonlight vanished. As Creel had said, Genadee was the dumbest portion of Idio. She didn’t even know somebody had opened the door, didn’t notice the moonlight coming in or going away, didn’t give two cents that Brown and Green were in there stumbling around trying to find her. She lay in her bed, not singing anymore, but just growling now and then.

  For a minute everything was quiet, then Brown and Green went the wrong way. Instead of moving toward Genadee they came to the corner. A hand went over me and I reached out and touched a leg. Lord, never knew Brown felt like silk.

  The boys had come in after Genadee and she was what they would get.

  In just a second.

  Green missed me when he was fumbling, went across me and grabbed hold of Creel. The shock of Brown’s leg in my hand had been powerful. Couldn’t help what I did then. I raised up and gathered him close.

  The shack was as full of noise as a Fourth of July picnic.

  Brown was bucking like a mule as he tried to get away from me. His mouth was wide open and he shrieked in my ear. I kissed him silent. I had no trouble holding him down, he being kind of small and me outweighing him by about a hundred pounds, none of which was fat.

  Creel was suddenly taken by Green. By that I mean she lost her head and forgot he was meant for Genadee.

  To hell with Genadee.

  Old Creel, she being androgynous and kind of freaky, she was strong as a bull and little Green couldn’t do a thing but squawk. She kissed him silent.

  Genadee started singing again and the prayers sounded gentle and innocent.

  Bad was hurting. I knew Creel wouldn’t forget that we were always good. Sister knew all the answers and she had passed them on to us. There was no such thing as doing what came naturally if you didn’t know how. I knew how and so did Creel. Sister had told us. If you wanted to love somebody you had to do it right.

  Did everything perfect. Genadee could go to hell. Pretty Brown was mine to do with as I pleased. As a matter of fact so was Green. Neither Creel nor I was stingy. We swapped the boys back and forth like dessert being passed across the supper table.

  The bosses sent us two more caretakers after Brown and Green hanged themselves. We called the new fellows Curly and Peaches. They were pretty boys, except Peaches looked just like those pictures in the magazines. Creel spied while Peaches took a bath.

  Today Sister told us Peaches is a girl. Creel is in love with her. “Tit, tit, tit, tit, tit.” Five buttons punched. Nothing to do.

  <>

  * * * *

  Albert Teichner

  FANTASY’S PROFESSION

  “I’M LEAVING, I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” cried the matron, leaping from her chair. “I didn’t pay to be insulted!”

  “You certainly did.” Dr. Stanler looked blankly across his desk at her. “You paid to be insulted by the truth.”

  “Well, I’m leaving!” At the door she angrily awaited an apology.

  “Yes, now—leave, please.” His slate-blue eyes stayed blank and, after a pause, she went out, slamming the door.

  Stanler pressed the intercom. “Miss Carter, that radio man may come in now.” Waiting, he had no need to set his face for the publicity encounter. Still under thirty, Stanler had a deep vertical line down each cheek, like a slashed dimple, and this sufficed to give him the frightening dignity of an ancient Cherokee chief.

  The man who entered was forty desperately pushing twenty, his long black hair carefully groomed into ragged disorder. A variety of love beads clacked softly across his breast. He even had the open-mouthedness of youth, his jaw more slackly controlled than the portable tape recorder gripped by his left hand. A fool, Dr. Stanler saw.

  Stanler said, “Glad to see you, Mr.—”

  “—Toby Woolton.”

  “By all means, yes.”

  Woolton set the recorder on the desk. “Always like getting right down to business,”

  “Yes, I don’t have much time either, Mr. Woolton, so do shoot away.”

  “Well then—” He carefully adjusted the little microphone between them. “I am in the office of Dr. Ronald Stanler, the famous, the almost notoriously famous therapist.”

  “Ah no,” Stanler broke in, “not a therapist, I don’t claim to cure people. They come here, you might say, to be insulted.”

  Woolton was pleased. “Insulted, that seems the idea! Then you don’t cure people?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that either. I said I don’t claim to cure people. How they absorb what I say is up to them.”

  “Then, while we’re into a debunking spree, doctor, may I point out that you are neither a doctor of medicine nor psychology!”

  “Again—I never claimed to be. My d
octorate’s in art teaching, but about two years ago I realized I’d make a better living telling people the bad news about themselves.”