by Ben Bova
A couple of seconds later, I realized I was in big trouble. See, my interspatial whushing depends on being able to see my goal in the heavens. That’s how I got to Mars, remember? I stood out under the night sky and raised my beseeching arms to the ruddy God of War, and like whush! there I was. So, despite my steering problems, I’ve always found my way home ‘cause I’ve always stayed sort of in the same neighborhood. Now, though, it was all different. I wasn‘t going to be able to see the Earth in the sky at all. And the sun-the right sun, our sun-would be just one bright dot lost among all the others. If it was even there at all.
But I hadn‘t been entirely abandoned by Fate. After all, I was only half a mile downwind from an observatory. They’d be able to point me in the right direction, I was sure of it.
I cranked uphill for a few minutes, starting to feel a little weirded out. The light from the small sun was the color of beet juice, and it kind of sluiced down over the trees and the road and made me look like I’d been boiled too long. I was just telling myself that I hoped no one would see me until I got inside the observatory, when I spotted this guy hustling down the road toward me.
“Great,” I go, “he’ll think I’ve been pickled in a jar or something.” But there wasn’t anything I could do about it, so I stopped worrying. After all, his color was halfway between a crabapple and an eggplant, too.
He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, either, even though in that light he looked like the Xylocaine poster child. The only odd thing about him was his clothes. He had on a kind of silvery jumpsuit with those stupid things that stand up on your shoulders, like the visitors from the future always wore in old sci-fi movies. He looked like Superman’s dad from back in the good old days on Krypton. “Oh boy,” I go, “welcome to the World of Superscience. “
I guess he was just as freaked to see me. I mean, I was wearing my working outfit, which was just the gold brassiere and G-string I picked up on’ my travels, with Old Betsy hung on my hip. Maybe it was the broadsword, or maybe he was just overcome by my ample figure, but he just came to a stop in the middle of the road and stared. I mean, if I whush through space in a drop-dead outfit I stumbled on at Lillie Rubin, I land in Fred Flintstone’s backyard. If I slide into my fighting harness instead, it figures I end up in some totally tasteful garden party beyond the stars. You can’t win, right?
Which reminds me, Bitsy. Every time I see you, you look like you need intensive care from the Fashion Resuscitators. Look at you now! Everything you’re wearing is black or drab colors and loose and shapeless. And hightop gym shoes with black socks? Bitsy! Has the FBS Catalog lost your address, or what?
Never mind. I looked at this Luke Floorwalker and I figured it was time for an exchange of interplanetary greetings. I stepped forward and raised my hand in the universal sign of peace. “I come from a planet not unlike your own,” I go, real solemn. “I am Maureen Danielle Birnbaum. Do not call me Muffy.”
This dweeb just boggled at me with his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish or something. Finally he figured out how his mouthparts were connected, and he goes, “You’ve come much sooner than we expected.”
“Excuse me?” I go. I hadn’t fully realized that my reputation was spreading all through the universe.
“We didn’t think there’d be any serious trouble until after totality,” he goes.
“I’m no trouble,” I go. “I come in peace for all mankind.”
He took a couple of steps forward and looked a little closer at my garb. He reached out with a finger to boink my chestal covering. Guys are always trying to do that to me. “Whoa, like men have died for less,” I go, in my Command Voice.
“Forgive me, my dear girl. Your fall into barbarism was also more immediate than we predicted. “
This goober rapidly needed straightening out. Old Betsy sang as I whipped her from her scabbard. “I’m not your dear girl, like I’m totally sure,” I go. “ And it’s not barbarism or anything. It’s like being fully wild and free.”
“Whatever,” he goes. “But let me introduce myself. I am Segol 154. “ He cocked his head to one side, so I was supposed to be impressed or something.
“Segol 154?” I go. “Is that like a name you spraypaint on subway cars? You live on 154th Street, or what?”
Now it was his turn to look bummed out. “I am Segol 154. That is my cognomination.” He said it with this little grisly sneer.
“Well, forget you, “ I go. I just didn’t like his attitude, you know?
He paid no attention. “May I ask you, how long have you been under this delusion?”.
I go, “What delusion?”
He goes, “This belief that you’re from another planet?”
Now, see, in everyone of these doggone exploits there comes a time when I have to prove I’m from another planet. Sometimes it’s hard and sometimes it’s easy. So I go, “Why can’t I be from another planet?”
Segol 154 just shook his head sadly. “Because there are no other planets. Lagash is all alone, circling Alpha. There are five other suns, but no planets. Although in the last ten years, the work of Aton 77 and others has deduced the existence of a lesser satellite, we’re equally certain that no life could exist upon it. “
“No other planets? Oh yeah?” Okay, so maybe I could’ve come up with a stronger argument.
“Yes, that is the case. So you see, you can’t be from another planet. You were born on Lagash, just as I was.”
“I never even heard of Lagash until a minute ago! I came from Earth, that beautiful sapphire-blue world my people so sadly take for granted. “
“If that is the case,” he goes, smirking like an idiot, “how do you explain the fact that you speak English?”
Well, I’ve told you before, it’s just amazing, huh? No matter where my adventures take me, they speak English when I get there. Prince Van spoke English on Mars, and the ape-things in the center of the Earth spoke English, and they were still speaking English in the far distant future. So I guess it was no biggie to find out they spoke English on Lagash, too. But I wasn’t going to tell Segol about all that. “I have studied your language,” I go. “We’ve picked up your television programs on Earth for some time, okay?”
His eyes kind of narrowed, and he looked at me for a little while without saying anything. Then he goes, “What is television?”
Omigod! Like I’m on a weirdo planet with no TV! “Your radio broadcasts,” I go, “that’s what I meant. We’ve studied your language and learned many things about your culture and all.”
He nodded. “It’s possible,” he goes. “There are many questions I must ask you, before I can be sure you are speaking the truth. But we can’t talk here. You must come with me. I was on my way to the Hideout.”
Now, believe me, at first I thought he was a complete dudley, but I’ve learned to give guys the benefit of the doubt. You never know who’s got like, you know, a cute little ski shack in Vail or something. So I didn’t bail on this guy just ‘cause he looked like he probably bit the heads off chipmunks in his bedroom or something, and anyway he’d just invited me to cruise the local Lagash nightlife.
I turned around in front of him and I go, “So am I dressed for the Hideout, or what? Is there dancing, or are we just going to like, you know, sit there and drink all night?” Which would’ve been okay, too. We warrior women can party till our brass brassieres turn green.
Segol looked at me like I was whoa nelly crazy or something. “What are you talking about?” he goes. “We’re in terrible danger here. The Hideout is our only chance of survival. We have to hurry!”
Okay, I’m not as stupid as I look: I finally figured out that the Hideout was like a hideout or something. We started hurrying back down the road. “Where is this place?” I go. “ And what are you so afraid of!”
“It’s going to be dark soon,” he goes, as if that said it all.
I laughed. “Your mama wants you home by suppertime, huh?”
“My dear girl-” He saw the grim look in my eyes
and caught himself. “Maureen, perhaps you haven’t heard Aton’s ideas explained clearly.”
I go, “So who is this Aton dude when he’s at home? You mentioned him before.”
“Aton 77 is one of the most brilliant scientists on all of Lagash. He is a famous astronomer, and director of Saro University. He’s predicted that the entire world will go mad tonight when total Darkness falls.”
It sounded mondo dumb to me. “That’s why God gave us nightlights,” I go. “I mean, I even had this Jiminy Cricket lamp when I was a kid. Wouldn’t go to sleep or anything until Daddy turned it on for me.”
His voice trailed off. I don’t think he even heard me, you know? He goes, “ And then after the insanity starts, the fire and destruction will begin. Nothing will be left. Our entire civilization, every vestige of our culture, all of it will be eradicated. And the Observatory will be the first target, thanks to the Cultists. Our only hope is the Hideout. “
I slid Old Betsy back into her scabbard while I thought about what Segol had said. “You’re not kidding about this,” I go. “You’re like really scared, huh?”
He dropped his gaze to the ground. “I admit it,” he goes, “I’m terrified.”
Well, jeez, Bitsy, he was like such a little boy when he said that! I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even though I still figured he was maybe stretching the truth just a teensy bit. “That Aton guy is still up there at the Observatory, right?” I go.
Segol looked up at me sort of mournfully. “Yes, along with a few of the other scientists who volunteered to stay behind and record the event.”
“And you were supposed to be there, too?”
He looked ashamed, but all he did was nod his head.
“And instead, you’re just zeeking out and lamming it for the Hideout. “
“We’ve got to move fast, because they’ll be coming from Saro City. They may kill us if they catch us here!”
I had this picture in my mind of those clearly freaked villagers waving torches around in Frankenstein, you know? I knew I could save this guy from a dozen or two rousted locals, but if the whole city turned up, whoa, like see ya bye! So the Hideout sounded like a maximum cool idea.
We followed the road downhill, and I had more time to think about what Segol had said. I mean, either the deadly cold of deep space had frozen my brain, or I was like really missing something. All I knew was that a lot of irked people were going to shred the Observatory, because they’d be driven loony by the darkness. See, I hadn’t noticed the capital D Segol had put on “Darkness.”
“Mr. 154,” I go, “or may I call you Segol? Can I like ask you something?”
“Huh?” he goes. He was way spaced, and he wasn’t even paying attention to me or anything.
“What makes this night different from all other nights?” I go. There was this moment of quiet when I realized that I sounded just like my little cousin Howard on Passover at my Uncle Sammy’s. Maybe I’d heard Segol wrong. Maybe he said the threat was coming from “Pharaoh City,” not “Saro City.”
“Why, nothing,” he goes. “Aton’s warning is that tonight will be exactly like last night, two thousand years ago. That’s the terrible truth.”
“You want me to believe it hasn’t been dark in two thousand years? I mean, when do you people sleep? Look, Lagash would have to practically creep around on its whatyoucall for the days to be that long. And then imagine what it would be like for the poor people on the dark side, going to the beach in the pitch-dark all the time.” The whole idea was like too weird for words.
He goes, “I can almost believe that you’ve come here from some other world. Lagash turns once about its axis in a little more than twenty-three hours. Our nearly eternal day is caused by the six suns. There is always at least one in the sky at all times.”
“Six?” I go. “Now that’s just too flaky. If you had that many up there, they’d be blamming into each other all the time.”
He just gave me his indulgent, superior little smirk again. “I see that you aren’t familiar with celestial mechanics,” he goes.
“And like you probably aren’t familiar with anything else,” I go. I could tell by his expression that I’d really ranked him out.
“The perpetual presence of one or more suns in the skies of Lagash means that Darkness falls only once every 2,049 years, when five of the suns have set and the invisible moon passes between us and Beta, the only remaining source of light and warmth.” He glanced upward, and I saw him freeze in terror. Already, the edge of the moon had dented the ruddy edge of Beta.
“Don’t pay any attention to that,” I go. I was trying to lend him some of my inexhaustible store of courage. But it was like odd. you know? There are all these stories on Earth about lucky explorers saving their lives by using eclipses to scare the natives. I had to do just the opposite. If the mindless mob caught us, I had to pretend that I could end the eclipse.
“Soon,” he goes, “the Stars!”
“You bet,” I go. I didn’t see what all the excitement was. Of course, I didn’t hear the capital letter again.
“When the Stars come out, the world will come to an end.” He looked at me, and his eyes were all big and bugged out. I hated to see him so scared, okay? Even in that cranberry light he was sort of cute-for a brainy type, I mean. He wasn’t Prince Van or anything, but he wasn’t any Math Club geek, either.
“And you blame it all on the stars?” I go.
“Strange, isn’t it? That Aton’s warning should agree with the Cult? Believe me, he wasn’t happy about it, but he’s absolutely sure of his conclusions. There is definite proof that nine previous cultures have climbed to civilization, only to be destroyed by the Stars. And now it is our turn. Tomorrow, the world will belong to savages and madmen, and the long process will begin again.”
I tapped him on the skull. “Hello, Segol?” I go. “Is anybody like home? You haven’t told me what the stars have to do with it.”
He wasn’t really paying attention to me, which just goes to show you how zoned out he was, ‘cause I made a pretty dramatic presentation with my boobs clad in a metal Maidenform and my broadsword and everything. He goes, “Beenay 25 had an insane idea that there might be as many as two dozen stars in the universe. Can you imagine?”
“Beenay 25?” I go. “It sounds like an acne cream.”
“And the Stars, whatever they are, only come out in the Darkness. I think it’s all superstitious hogwash, myself. But Aton believes that the Cult’s ravings may have some basis in fact, that their Book of Revelations may have been written shortly after the last nightfall-”
Bitsy, you know how they say “my blood ran cold?” The orthodontist shows his bill to your parents and like their blood runs cold, okay? Well, right then I learned what they meant. It took a whole long time to seep into my brain, but finally I realized like, hey, if night falls only once every two thousand years around this place, then the stars won’t come out again for centuries, right? And without stars, I’d never be able to whush myself home! I’d be stuck on Lagash forever and ever! And I already knew they didn’t have TV, so that meant they also didn’t have any of the other trappings of modern civilization that are dependent on TV, like the Shopping Channel and Lorenzo Lamas. And could the Galleria have existed back in those pre-test-pattern dark ages? I think not.
So I was not going to be hanging out on Lagash long enough to find out what the dawn would bring. I had one window of opportunity, and I wasn’t going to miss it. “What about the weather?” I go.
“Hmm?” Like Segol the Bionic Brain was aware of my existence again.
“You know, if it gets all cloudy, we won’t be able to see the stars.” Then I’d be trapped there for good.
He brightened up considerably for a moment. “Yes,” he goes, “that would be a miracle.”
“Not for some of us,” I go. First I thought he’d fallen desperately in love with me and wanted me to stay on Lagash. But this bozo was thinking that after two thousand years of build
up, the big night might come and it would be too overcast to see anything. Quel irony, right?
N.S.L., sweetie-No Such Luck. Beta, the red sun in the sky, was now only a thin crescent like a bloody sliver of fingernail or something. It wouldn’t be much longer to total Darkness. It was like slightly obvious that we’d never make it to the Hideout in time. I was stuck out on this road with Segol 154, who was like a total loon. Still, the Hideout was all he could think about.
“We’ve got to hurry,” he goes, putting his grubby hands on my person and kind of dragging me along after him. “We’ve got to get to the Hideout. We must make sure you’re safe. Your destiny is to have babies, many babies, who will be the hope of Lagash’s future.”
I disenhanded myself from him and laughed, a proud and haughty laugh meaning “If you weren’t such a pitiful knob. I’d hack you to little pieces for that remark.” Let me tell you a little secret, honey: no matter where you go in the known universe, the men are all the same. It’s like these honkers are what God gave us as substitutes because all the really buf guys are on back order.
So what does he do? He grabs me by both shoulders and goggles into my face. “You…will be…the mother of…my children!” he goes. And even if there wasn’t a line of drool down his chin, like there should have been.
You know and I know-and, believe me, Bitsy, now this Segol knows-nobody paws me uninvited. I didn’t care if civilization was quickly coming to a screeching halt. I was now totally bugged, and I was going to teach him a lesson in interspatial etiquette. I put one hand flat against his chest and pushed real hard, and the next thing he’s down in the road squinting up at me all surprised. I whipped Old Betsy from her scabbard again and took a menacing step toward him. “Look!” he screams. “Behind you!”
“Oh, like I’m so sure,” I go. But I heard these grumbly sounds, and I turned and saw a mob of people huffing up the hill toward us. They did not look pleased.