The Collected Stories of Carol Emshwiller, Vol. 1

by Carol Emshwiller

  I raised myself out of the box then, and down to the floor. I was heavy as I’d never been before, round and heavy, and I needed substance. “I’m glad it is this creature,” I said to the little ones. “It put me in a hot box and told me not to send. I don’t like it and I’m very hungry.”

  I came to where the creature was lying. I could raise myself still, though I was heavy, and I had a foot now to help. I came down on it and started to feed. It was so good.

  Then it woke suddenly, sending out a big noise. It clawed at me and even ripped me in my soft places; but I was feeding and getting substance fast, and I repaired myself with the new juices as it tore. I grew bigger and stronger every moment. Its noise grew very loud, then, and it tore at me harder and harder; but I was quite big. I fed as fast as I could, and soon the noise lessened and stopped; and soon after that there was nothing left to sip anymore at all.

  I was still not big, but I was bigger. I almost feared I wouldn’t be able to get out the opening of the shelter, but I did squeeze through it.

  “Come, darlings,” I called, “we must find more creatures like that one. We’ll go to that place it thought of. Town, it said. Fly out and find it and tell me things. But keep the thread; don’t go too far. I need you all for I must eat more and grow more…lots more, and you must find the food.”

  I looked down at myself then, as I started away, and I saw that I was beautiful. I saw my reds and blues, and the shimmering green, and the white parts inside. How contented I felt, how calm. I no longer wanted to send to Mother. I no longer had questions.

  I knew exactly what I was.

  Science Fiction Quarterly, May 1956

  Bingo And Bongo

  I-WE LIKE MEN. I-we like little things, fatherly-motherly, especially since I and we all became as one. Male or female men, it doesn’t matter to me; but I do like them. Some think they’re too independent, don’t really return affection and all that, but I think it’s just the way they’re trained that makes the difference. I-we never had any trouble that way, but then I and we all try to give them a good home with plenty of discipline.

  I and we all lost one just five revolutions past, come red sun. The little ones felt the loss deeply. They were ruffled and muffled, little Toto even more than Ruba.

  The man got caught in a riser outside rising up to the top. How he got there, or why, I’ll never figure out.

  Toto says he was trying to escape. I-we heard him say that. But we gave the man such a nice home, and he seemed to like it, too. The question is, why would he be caught on the up riser if he were trying to get away?

  Anyway, no man could ever get over the outside wall all by himself, even though they are light and can jump so on our world. That doesn’t answer the question.

  Well, I-we know Toto is just a young Dooly still and he has a lot to learn. They say that curiosity killed the man, and I imagine that was the reason why.

  Poor little Scoots, he didn’t look too badly off when I and we all took him out from the riser, but he must have been hurt inside. We never did find out because I didn’t want to take him to be fixed. It might have cost all of twenty, and that’s really too much to spend on a man.

  Anyway, I promised the little ones that as soon as a new ship came in, they should have another, so when they sent the Lately by and I saw that ship did come, I sent Essi right away.

  I told her to look for good points. Just because it’s for the little ones is no sign it shouldn’t be a good man. I might like to compare again.

  Essi went down and got a very nice man. A black haired female, wide across the eyes, small and good to compare, and Ruba and Tot weren’t ruffled and muffed any more.

  “Ruba, Toto, isn’t she a nice man? Don’t jangle and jog so, Toto dear. See how she does. She’s frightened. Now be still…Toto, you’re too rough. You must go out now. Mother-Father-Aunt say go out. If you go quickly you can name the man all by yourself. Go out now and think up names.”

  We’ll be sorry. You know the sorts of names he picks. We can use something else when we compare her. All the same, I don’t like the idea, and you shouldn’t have spoken without us thinking. Oh, let the little one have some fun.

  “Ruba, you pet the nice man and give her some mash. She hasn’t had anything to eat but hard cakes all the long trip.”

  But Ruba said she didn’t want to. “The man is dirty,” she said, “and she smells bad.”

  “We’ll get Essi to clean her up,” I said. “They don’t look after them much on the trip.”

  Essi came, and I and we all, and Ruba went out and there was Toto and he had a name all picked out.

  I told you so.

  You’ll have to talk him out of it, if you can.

  Oh, it’s not so bad, and I’ll call her something nice when we compare her.

  Bingo it is, then.

  Then Ussi came from next mound and she had a man box under her first elbow. “We heard the little ones wanted a man,” she said, “but of course they wouldn’t want this one.”

  “We do. We do” Ruba and Toto said. “One for Toto and one for Ruba. It’s only fair.”

  And I-we all said, “No,” and “No.”

  “We have to get rid of him,” Ussi said. “We didn’t know you had one, but we knew you used to want one. I’ll him take away to the place,” she said. “It’s a shame, but nobody wants him.”

  Ruba and Toto said, “No, no. We do want him, and don’t take him to the place.”

  You’re too soft hearted.

  So are you.

  What will we do with two?

  Well, I hate to see a good man done away with.

  “All right. All right. Mother-Father-Aunt say yes. And it’s Ruba’s turn to name one now.”

  And that’s how we came to have Bingo and Bongo.

  I hope they get along together.

  Let’s try and see.

  We opened the man box Ussi had brought and took Bongo out. He was big, for a man, a handsome creature with brown, tangled mane and brownish skin. He kept his head down, but he looked at us all in a curious way.

  It looks like trouble. Do you think so? You’re a good trainer.

  Anyway, it’s too soon to tell.

  Then I-we put Bongo in the man box with Bingo and watched to see if they would get along together.

  The first thing that happened was that Bongo made some loud sounds at Bingo. And then Bingo made a sound and then it was started and they both went jibber-jabber the way men always do. And there was th-ing and ll-ing and rr-ing. I don’t know how they make such sounds, or why.

  Then, Bingo made a sniffy sound; she wiped her face with a bottom corner of the old wrap that Essi gave her, and that she had wound about her under her two single arms. Bongo looked more gentle then, and touched her shoulder. But she went away from him and stopped her sniffling.

  Then Bongo did the odd thing. He took a large piece of old Lately that was on the bottom of the box and stood it up on end. He tied it with a piece of cloth stuff and it made two parts to the little man box. And all his things he put on one side and all Bingo’s on the other, where Bingo was.

  Bingo seems nice and gentle.

  Let’s pet her.

  Yes, with arm mouths, and outer ear lips.

  Yes, let’s.

  “Come, little Bingo. Come come.”

  Right away, first thing next rotation, the young ones said they wanted to go to the man box place and play, and I said, “Yes, only be careful and take the man sticks.” Well, there have been stories. Oh, what can little men do? “And call if you need me-us.”

  So they went to play and took man sticks. And after a while, there was a grating sound and the clack, clack, clack of man sticks. I went fast to see what it all was.

  It was Bongo, only when I got there, he was lying down and tired from the man sticks. First it was Bingo, though. Little Toto had stepped on her by mistake and the poor darling was so unsettled he dropped the man stick. Bongo jumped wide and fast, the way the little men can jump o
n our world; he got it and went clack at Toto—only then, Ruba had hers.

  “I did it,” she said. “I went clack, clack. Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, darling. You did just the right thing. Only next time try not to do it at the head part.” Then I and we all said, “Father-Mother-Aunt say go. See, Bongo is tired from the mean stick. See how he sits and breathes hard. Go now and let him rest,” and they went.

  I looked to see how Bingo was. Toto had stepped on both her legs and they were bruised but not broken.

  Poor little Toto. He has the foot of a growing one.

  Yes, he can’t help it.

  Bingo will have to learn to keep out of the way.

  We let the men rest some then, and Essi looked after them as if they were little Doolies.

  She came to me one time and said, “Bongo is so smart.”

  And I-we said, “How?”

  “Well, he’s only been here since red sun and already he can say stop, and food, and sleep. I heard him.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to understand, but it sounds like it, and they come at the right times. I think he says them.”

  Some say men do learn to say a little.

  Tales, tales.

  I wouldn’t believe it even if it were true.

  “You’ve been listening to those at the ships again, Essi.”

  “Well, last time they said men had mounds and things on their own world; and lanes and towers and engines…”

  “Essi, you go on and on. I-we never said they didn’t. It’s instinct that makes them build like that. Busy, busy, all the time; you know how they are. But talking and words, that’s different. That takes real thought.

  “I think you try to believe such things, Essi. After this try not to. Make an effort, now, and you’ll be much better off.”

  Red sun went and yellow sun came, and everyone felt it and wanted to jump and wiggle in the good feeling of it. Everyone but the little men. They don’t feel such things like we do. Then Toto came. “Goto has a man,” he said, “and he is going to win the secret fights with him.”

  I said, “No and no. I-we won’t let you go.”

  And he said, “Bongo could win.” And I said, “No,” again.

  “We could practice on the roof,” he said, “and Bongo is strong. He could win better than Goto’s. No one would find out. Toto wants to, and it’s yellow sun.”

  What if the SPCM found out? But Toto wants to and it is yellow sun. But we always give the men such a good home. Just this once, though. You’re both so soft hearted, what can a one do?

  “All right, Toto, Mother-Father-Aunt say, yes, and yes, but be careful.”

  Toto did it all by himself. Up on the roof in yellow sun with a man stick he worked and worked Bongo. Bongo didn’t like it, but I-we made him well trained and so he did it all.

  I took Bingo up too, sometimes, because compare time was coming after moon time came and yellow sun was good for her to give her more color.

  Then one day there was a girating sound again from Toto and I went to him fast.

  “Poor Toto. You must be careful and not drop Bongo. Let’s see if he’s hurt. How still he lies, just like little Scoots did. Take him down gently to Essi.”

  Essi said that such a thing often happened if men were slammed by a compartment, or stepped on badly, or dropped, like now, they would seem to be stopped like this only then sometimes up again all right.

  We rested Bongo two times before Toto took him to the roof again with the man stick.

  I was getting Bingo ready for comparing. I only let Ruba play with her a little bit because men do so much better if they look fresh and lively, and all that play makes them tired and sometimes black and blue.

  Then came the time for the secret fights. Toto got a man-carrying box that looked like a wrap holder and went off to the secret place.

  I was worried, and we all worried; only then, after a time Toto came back and it was all right. No one had found out about it.

  “We had to use a lot of stick.” Toto said, “to make them go. They wanted to jibber-jabber the way they do, but we made them fight. There was one there with many scars and he wanted to jabber the most. Even the sticks didn’t stop him though his breath came hard.”

  “And Bongo—did he win?”

  “Naturally, but some don’t think so. Goto says his did, but it isn’t true.”

  “Of course our Bongo won,” I said, and then I took him out of the box. While I cleaned the red off, I saw that his hand was closed tightly on something, and he wouldn’t open it.

  Bongo still needs training.

  Get the man stick.

  I-we made him open his hand and it was just a tiny piece of old Lately with marks on it. It was like marks of the wet place and the forest; and then the mounds just as they are. I could tell what each thing was and which was our mound. And in the forest where nothing is at all, there was a mark.

  “See,” Essi said, “Bongo is so smart to make a thing like this.”

  “Bongo never made this,” I said, “He got it at the man fights. Take it and throw it away.”

  Essi didn’t say anything, but she took it and went out.

  Could a man make such a thing? It seems more than instinct. If a man made it then we’re wrong to have such pets. But we do have them as pets, so a man couldn’t make it. Yes, you’re right. We wouldn’t have such pets and so we don’t.

  Yellow sun went down and red sun was not yet come back and there was only moon.

  We were sad and tired in the pale light. Toto and Ruba slept; Essi did her work, but not as usual—only just enough. I and we all just sat in the middle place and dozed, and felt sad about all the world.

  Then, one time when two were asleep and one was awake, I heard a noise from the man box place. Woke all the way up then, and went to see what it was, but I was still slow. When I got to the man box, everything looked right. I went to the top and looked in at Bongo’s side but there no one side anymore because the Lately that separated the two sides was gone.

  It can’t be.

  See, in the corner—tied up pieces of cloth hung down.

  They climbed out on it.

  Run, now. I hear the riser.

  Oh, not Bingo. I must compare her, and the time is so near.

  Faster! Don’t hang back.

  I can’t. It’s moon time.

  Try.

  I came to the riser, and Bingo and Bongo were on it hanging tight to each other and to something big. It was the piece of Lately from the man cage only there were more parts to it. I stopped then and made no noise because it was dangerous for them to stand on the thin flanges and go up like that, and if I made a noise they might fall in like little Scoots did.

  Later they were safe above, I went up fast; when I got there it was all so strange in the moonlight that I stopped to wonder. Bingo and Bongo had no wraps on at all, though moontime is cold and men have only skin. They shook because of cold, and Bingo held herself with her arms across her middle. The wraps were all in long thin pieces tied together and tied to the Lately. And the strangest of all was the Lately that had cross pieces on it now and was up in the air above their heads, blowing in the wind. And just while I stopped and looked, up went Bingo too, on the long wrap piece.

  Then I and we all moved fast, even for moontime. Where Bongo started up I caught him.

  Squeeze, crush. Don’t let him go.

  Ah, he’s slippery.

  Man teeth, they bite.

  He hurt you.

  Yes, an eye. It squeezes out. It’s bit.

  He’s free.

  Let him go then. He’s up now. Look, he has the Lately piece from the fights. They’ll go to that mark in the forest, now.

  It’s from Essi. She’s a bad one.

  It’s because she thinks that the men are so smart.

  We’ll teach her what to think now.

  They’re over the wall.

  And now they drop off. They’ll be hurt.
<
br />   No. Men are so little and light they can fall a long ways.

  Run. We can get them outside.

  But men take great leaps even in moon time.

  Are they lost then?

  I fear

  The mound won’t be the same without my Bingo.

  We’ll get another man.

  Yes, don’t worry. There are plenty more where they came from.

  Future Science Fiction, #31, Winter 1956-1957

  Nightmare Call

  THERE’S PAIN, fear, anxiety about Asdsa, beloved, and impatience to be on the way. A claw is hurt and cilia are gone. The ship is caught, stuck fast, imbedded.

  Suppress it, the pain, imbeddedness, even Asdsa, beloved. Concentrate. There is a creature out there not too far. It comes nearer and it is big and brained. It could do it, free the ship.

  Suppress, concentrate and call.

  He held the gun lightly and walked with a brisk, angry purpose. He wasn’t going anywhere except away, away from the cabin, away from the river, away from the trees, away from… thought.

  He stepped quietly on the peat-like ground of the forest and suddenly came to a small clearing. There, a few yards ahead, was a doe. She turned big eyes to stare at him, eyes that were calm with forest calmness, yet alert with a trust-in-nothing look. He stared back, seeing the bare patch on her neck where the skin showed through, and even the lump, like a cyst, on one cheek.

  Her eyes were brown like Mona’s.

  He raised the gun in a swift arc, aimed for a moment between those wide-set, brown eyes, but he hesitated and the doe ran. He saw the white tailed rump disappear behind the tree trunks and he shot two savage shots at a birch tree.

  “Come back,” he whispered. “Mona, come back.”

  Suppress, concentrate and call.

  “Help!”

  For only an instant the cry was in his mind. Then a gray curtain came down shutting it out, forgetting it, as if the mind refused to believe in such a thing as a call inside it but from the outside. But the call was there, and the mind retreated farther…