I saw Phil drop down. He half caught Marge, who was sobbing in fright. I heard her half-articulate “Oh, thank God!” as she landed and they started up the alleyway. Phil looked back over his shoulder at us but Marge dragged him on.
“Let me go first!” I snapped quickly. Ruth stepped aside and I swung down the ladder and dropped, feeling a sting in my insteps, a slight pain in my ankles. I looked up, extending my arms for her.
A man behind Ruth was trying to shove her aside so he could jump down.
“Look out!” I yelled like a raging animal, reduced suddenly by fear and concern. If I’d had a gun I’d have shot him.
Ruth let the man drop. He scrambled to his feet, breathing feverishly and ran down the alley. The building was shaking and quivering. The air was filled with the roar of the engines now.
“Ruth!” I yelled.
She dropped and I caught her. We regained our balance and started up the alley. I could hardly breathe. I had a stitch in my side.
As we dashed into the street we saw Johnson moving through the ranks of scattered people trying to herd them together.
“Here now!” he was calling. “Take it easy!”
We ran up to him. “Johnson!” I said. “The ship, it’s …”
“Ship?” He looked incredulous.
“The house! It’s a rocket ship! It’s …” The ground shook wildly.
Johnson turned away to grab someone running past. My breath caught and Ruth gasped, throwing her hands to her cheeks.
Johnson was still looking at us; with that third eye. The one that had a smile with it.
“No,” Ruth said shakily. “No.”
And then the sky, which was growing light, grew dark. My head snapped around. Women were screaming their lungs out in terror. I looked in all directions.
Solid walls were blotting out the sky.
“Oh my God,” Ruth said. “We can’t get out. It’s the whole block.”
Then the rockets started.
SRL AD
LONESOME, VENUS GAL, pretty—yes, nice in socializing; tender and gay altogether. Be pleased to write earthman of like fixtures. Loolie—Greener Abode—Venus
July 5, 1951
DEAR LOOLIE:
I don’t know what I’m getting myself in for, but I’m too tired to care. Ever spend a night on astro-physical calculus? Well, I just did and I’m groggy.
So I’m taking your ad straight. What the heck, it doesn’t matter. Sat down for a relaxing half hour before sacking out and I feel like shooting off my big fat typewriter so here I am with a cup of java.
I don’t care if you live on Venus or Pluto or in a little grass shack in Kehalick Kahooey Hawaii. I just hope you’re not selling something.
You know, it would be interesting to know if there really was anyone on Venus, or Mars or any other of those damn rolling spitballs that circle old Sol for a good punch.
Okay. I’ll assume you know nothing about Earth. So you don’t know a ting. Dat’s slang. Don’t you jes’ love Earth, LONESOME VENUS GAL?
What’s the game old gal? What’s the double talk? Socializing? I’ll have you investigated, s’blood.
Pretty—yes. What’s that?
As for me: pretty—no.
But I’m gay altogether too. I wake up late at night and just gay altogether all over the place. ‘Specially if Willy and I (my roommate) have imbibed a few tankards of that mizzible brew they say is squeezed from the waving grain.
You have beer on Venus?
Venus. Venus. One Touch Of. That’s a musical show down here. Venus was goddess of Love, I believe. Do you look like Mary Martin? Guess not. If you happen to look like Ava Gardner—hold that rocket ship Sam, I’m packin’ mah duds now.
Who am I? This repulsive young lad who communicates in semifacetious vein? Who regales yo poor blinkers wif giddy persiflage?
Name’s Todd Baker. Taking the Astronomy Unit here at Fort College in Fort, Indiana. College endowed by a rich old bugger who went off his nut over the Fortean prose.
You know it just struck me that if you were really on Venus (which I keep forgetting because I think that’s a load of—ah ha ha!)
Anyway if you really were on the misty ghost world out thar yonder you wouldn’t be able to make head nor tail of my confused rambling.
So—for regimentation—for mental exercise—I’ll pretend you are up there: mean distance from the sun 67.2 million miles, eccentricity .0068, inclination to elliptic 3° 23’ 38”.
Pardon. Carried away by the figures which leap about my mind like potted sitatungas. That’s the way you get after a while. Integration. Differential. Function of a function. Stay away gal! Better to be lonesome on Venus.
I am of the males. I am sane, foregoing epistolary matter to the contrary. I have been here at Fort College these three grotesque years preparing myself for a life of fabulous obscurity studying those pinpoints in yon blackness that someone had the audacity to put there.
Could I not be a plumber? Cry in the night. Not me. I must stick a thermometer in the gullet of stars and diagnose—hmmm, the patient is getting old. He has only 95 billion years to live.
Okay. No distracting and altogether ungay and unsuccessful metaphors and snappy patter.
This is Earth. It has a diameter of 7900 miles. Do not ask why. This is a secret.
I am an Earth man of like fixtures. I am 26. This means that I have been undergoing a process of physical and mental growth (well, physical anyway) for 26 X 365 days. It takes the Earth 365 days to get around the sun, a day being one revolution of said solar handball around its own axis.
On Earth, on this continent, the piece of earth in this hemisphere that Davey Jones has not seen fit to stash away in his everloving locker, there is a country called the United States of America. In it is Indiana. In Indiana is Fort. In Fort is Fort College. In college is me. In me is idiocy for writing to any gal who says she’s from Venus.
Tell you what I’m gonna do.
You tell me about Venus. We’uns down hyar can’t see it, you know. Somebody up there is smoking a damnably large cigar.
So, you give me some figures on Venus. Might even send me a few samples of rocks, plants, dirt and so on. How about it? Trapped you, eh?
Anyway, even though you’re just a joker from Mother Earth and way back, drop me a line when next you feel the pressure on your brain.
And now to sack. Good night’s sleep tonight; all of four hours.
I take it back. Willy is snoring.
Greetings from the wheeling green place.
Todd Baker
1729 “J” Street
Fort, Indiana
July 7, 1951
Oh Dear Toddbaker,
Was it nice to hear from you. Am endless grateful. How good. I wish to have a newer translate book there isn’t here. You see? “Forgive me dear.”
I have got your message. Fast it came fast, picked up by my guardians. So happy am I that you have messaged to Loolie. I got no more than yours. I would not be even happy if there was not an answer at all. I worked in muchness to put the note on me in the place you saw. It was good English what?
There is a lot was not known in your message. Old translate book: see you. Cup of java not there. Not yet everloving as so common adjective. Or handball. Or Kehalick Kahooey Hawaii. This is a planet?
I am here. On . What you call Venus. Nice ting. Slang. Right? “You are dear to me.”
Oh, of yes, I am loving Earth. But most its Toddbaker. I did not plan for me to stay there with you after—wait now. I must look for the properness word. After … marriage* No.!
No. I had think you come to my planet. But later is time for that to decide. No worries is there dear?
Socializing. That is wrong now see I. I am soci-able. I can have many childs. Ten at a time at once. You will be proud. And pretty—yes. I am. And you I know will be handsome. I know. We will be so happiness. Oh! “My dear it is good to know.”
I am not goddess of Love. But I love you—any how? T
his seems not a question. But in the translate book is always? after how. Is it?
I am glad you own a room-mate. Of natural he can not stay with us here on . How ever if Willy, as you say it, wants another Lonesome Venus Gal I can do it. I know many. All as pretty—yes as I am pretty. Yes.
Mary Martian? I did not know that your planet was in messaging action with the 4th from CU. We had not thinked it livable. This is good yet. I have told our skymen. They are glad to know this. Davey Jones and Ava Gardner is not known. Who is Sam?
Oh dear you are not repulsive. I am know that you are loveliness. We will be lovely with each other together. How dear. Many babies. Hundred. My*—! I forget.
Fort, I am not knowing. I picked a spot with a point and had my guardians to go down to tell of my lonesome. I am the first to try. If it works good and it worked good—yes. Then I will tell the rest of mine. I have two hundred and seven sisters. Nice. All pretty. You will like them when they see you.
Figures you said are all not right. But all right for that. I am giving an extra page of notes. See how they show. Formulas, laws and truths of matter here. In a box I will sending some samples of rock and on so.
I am L-. This means I think 8.5 in your numbers. I am very young. I hope it does not mind you to marriage with such a … a child. I can bear already babies. Two hundred at least, of course.
And now I will have to send this message from your Loolie. I will now come soon to get you. You will of real like it more on than on your icy colded Earth with so lacking warm and air enough. Here is so fulsome warmth all in the U’ U’—year in your talk. 224.7 days. Almost.
Now. Dear Toddbaker. Here is fare well for a nonce. Soon come I. How happy will we be? Yes! “My dear it is love I send, A kiss.”
LOOLIE
1729 “J” Street
Fort, Indiana
July 10, 1951
Personals Department
The Saturday Review
25 West 45th Street
New York 19, New York
Dear Sir:
I wish to make an inquiry regarding an ad published in your July 3rd issue from a “LONESOME VENUS GAL.”
I wrote to this person who claimed to be a resident of the planet Venus. I naturally assumed the claim to be facetious.
Two days after sending my letter I received an answer.
The fact that this letter was written in gibberish does not, in itself, prove anything.
However, with the letter came a sheet of mathematical statistics and a box of mineral and plant samples which this so-called “VENUS GAL.” said were from her planet.
A professor at my college—Fort—is now examining the samples and testing the statistics. He has not made any statement.
But I am virtually certain that the samples are of a variety unknown to Earth. They are, actually, from another planet. I am almost positive of that.
I would like to know how this person or whatever she is, managed to communicate with you and get such an ad in your magazine.
According to your own written standards, it would seem that this advertisement, by its very nature was far from a communication “of a decorous nature.”
This “VENUS GAL” Loolie speaks of marrying me—coming down here and getting me.
Please rush a reply. This matter is highly urgent.
Thanking you, I am
Very truly yours
Todd Baker
July 11, 1951
Dear Mr. Baker:
Your letter of the 10th at hand. We must confess ignorance of its meaning. In our July 3rd issue there was no such ad as you described placed in our Classified Section.
We are of the opinion that you have been the unfortunate butt of some practical joke.
However, we are in communication with one of our territorial representatives in Fort and he is investigating the matter.
If we can be of further service, please feel free to call on us.
Sincerely yours
J. Linton Freedhoffer
For the Editor
Mr. Todd Baker
1729 “J” Street
Fort, Indiana
Professor Reed:
Dropped in to see you but you weren’t in your office.
Any news?
I’m getting awfully worried. If you find that those samples are as legitimate as I think they are, I’m sunk. I get the shudders every time I think about what fantastic powers this Loolie must have. How she got that ad in the SRL I’ll never figure out.
I certainly hope it is a practical joke.
If it isn’t … .
Will you let me know as soon as you reach any definite decision?
Todd Baker
Toddy Lad:;.?!
Prof. Reed called up. Said he found out that the samples (whatever they are) are strictly legit. Really come from some place other than Earth. Who’s he kidding? Oops, sorry Charles.
Anyway, the old boy says for you to come over to his house tonight for a big pow-wow. Playing teacher’s pet? For shame.
Off to supper.
Adoringly
Your room mate
The Eternal Sophomore
Willy
P.S. Letter came for you.
July 11, 1951
Oh Dear Toddbaker:
Think! How fortunate it is. I have got a special ship. I can come now right away tomorrow. Oh happiness. “Pack your duds, dear.” I am coming to bring you back with me. I am so joyfull. Please hurry.
With everything
LOOLIE
LOOLIE!
No! You can’t do this! I’m an Earth-man. Let me stay one! Keep away. I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m warning you!
Please?
Stay away!
T. Baker
P.S. I got a shotgun! Look out!
(From the Fort Daily Tribune, July 13, 1951)
FLOATING GLOBE SIGHTED
OVER COLLEGE CAMPUS
More than thirty students and citizens of Fort claimed to have sighted a floating globe last night.
According to the reports, the globe hovered over the college campus for at least ten minutes. It then headed for the outskirts of the city where it disappeared.
Dear Tell Book:
Well, I’m back. I can’t understand it. I’ve been taken in, I have. It seems so odd.
I went to such trouble to put the insert in that Earth publication. And then this Toddbaker went to all the trouble of writing back. And I thought—here now!—I have a mate at last. He seemed so interested and so nice.
But heavens. When I told him that we were to be co-joined he protested as though this were something terrible. What sense in that? I thought he was just being shy as are all the depleted males up here.
So, on the third phase, I got into the ship (which I had gone to oh! such trouble to get). I was down there in about seven eks.
I stayed there a little less than a half ek, suspended over a green place with tall structures. There with the use of the proto-finder I located the waves of Toddbaker and headed for this “J” street.
I landed behind his personal structure.
I got out and went over to this place. I sensed his presence with my portable proto. The waves were coming freely through a square hole high up on the wall.
I turned on my air belt and floated up there. There I went into this hole. It was a terrible squeeze.
There he was.
Such a shock!
He was holding something long and shiny in his hands and he pointed it at me. But then he dropped it on the floor and said something.
I do not see how these Earth men understand each other. It was so weird a gurgle and it stuck in him. He stared at me and the voice cavity got large. Then it spread wide across and showed his teeth.
Then the seeing organs in his top part rolled back and disappeared. I suppose it was my air cloud that made it happen. He put out his arms at me and took one step. But then he fell down on the floor with a squeaking noise. He said—mama.
; I went over and examined him.
My my.
He was not of like fixtures at all. It could not possibly be managed. He was so fragile and pale. It is doubtful that the whole race of them can last. Not with such a form. So little!
So I left him there, poor thing.
And I had been so happy before. Now I’m still lonesome. I want a mate.
And now what? Nothing I guess. Well, maybe one.
July 20, 1951
Dear Mrs. Baker:
I think you’d better come and take Todd home. He’s in a sad way.
He’s cutting all his classes and he doesn’t eat. All he does is sit around the room and stare at things. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours all week and when he does fall asleep he keeps talking to himself, calling for “Louie”. We don’t know any Louie.
I found the enclosed in the basket this afternoon. I don’t get it.
But you better get Todd.
In haste,
Willy Haskell
(Enclosure)
Dear Sir:
We regret to inform you that your personal advertisement is not acceptable for our classified section.
We return it herewith.
(Enclosure)
LOOLIE: I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were so big and beautiful. Won’t you please come back? I’ll be waiting. Love, Todd.
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