by Jan Weiss
And so our great benefactor had to buy the conquered stars back from Galio one by one. His Highness simply couldn't bear the thought that someone else could be the master of every newly discovered star, and that the star could carry any other name than the one he himself bestowed on it, just as he could not accept that any contract bearing his signature would be anything but sacrosanct. And so as fast as new stars were being discovered, Galio was selling and Muller was buying. But Galio's stock was endless. Meh, meh! And Muller kept paying and paying, until things went so far that he had to start selling parts of the world to satisfy his desire to own the stars. And the most bizarre thing was Galio categorically refused to accept riches from any other planet, no matter how valuable. He only accepted goods produced on our good old Earth. And what did he do with all that wealth, you might ask? — He began giving Muller's gold away to the poor. Cities, islands, mines, industrial plants, everything Muller gave him in exchange for his stars, he would give it all to workers and the poor. They called him the Liberator!
Ah, what a clever plan this was — to destroy Ohisver Muller who, disgraced and almost destitute, was ready to leave the Earth and move out to one of his stars.
And then — chirp chirp — at the last minute when Muller was close to bankruptcy and in the middle of selling Mullerdom to Galio who was planning to blow it up — that's when I started treating Galio's rheumatism. Cluck — cluck! One evening — I remember it as if it were only yesterday — his joints stopped aching and he was in a fine mood. I asked him how many stars he'd already sold to Muller and how many he still had left.
"As many as I had at the beginning," Galio smiled mysteriously. "Even if I sold him a million stars every day, Muller would have to live a million years to acquire a tiny fraction of them all!" Meh, meh!
And that night, when Galio fell asleep, I injected three drops of Kawai under his skin — Chirp, chirp! — Come morning, Galio jumps up: "Pen! Paper! How much money do I have?" He writes down a nine and begins adding zeros. During that first day, he covered ten sheets of paper with zeros. Since then, his brain has turned into a zero-generating machine. All his thoughts revolve around zeros! Miaow!
I could then easily get hold of that cursed contract and pass it on to Muller. And Galio has been living in a lunatic asylum ever since, counting zeros. He himself became one big zero! — And that's the story of how I saved Our Lord Muller! He's still paying for his mistake, mind you, picking up the pieces after all the damage old Galio managed to wreak. — He wanted to make me the Emperor of Bradierra to show his gratitude! — Meh, meh — I declined. He told me to choose any empire, any throne; he asked me whether I wanted to be a king, general or diplomat. I told him that all I wanted was to be allowed to live out my days in Mullerdom, close to him, basking in the reflected glory of His Highness. In the end, he convinced me to accept fifty thousand stars and declared me the master of all these worlds. — I wanted to travel to one of them, meet my subjects and be crowned. Just one, not all of them, of course! If I were to be crowned every day in one of my kingdoms, I would have to live at least a hundred and thirty-seven years. And then, Ohisver Muller doesn't want me to go anywhere. He keeps begging me to stay close to him in case he needs anything."
XI
Petr Brok 's curiosity and what came of it · The poison master's nose · Battle in the cube Armless Garpona raged more than anyone else
The hunchback fell silent and his eyes moved with curiosity from face to face around the table. — Big Nose blew a sad slow melody of spring hay fever into his purple handkerchief. The blind man's face loomed above the table like a block of marble — but the two lenses on his temples glittered gaily, as if laughing out loud. At least that's how it appeared to Petr Brok. — The armless assassin seemed not to be listening, and he kept his feet busy like a dexterous monkey. He would twiddle his toes under the table and then scrabble around on the table top again. Then he pulled out his dagger with his left foot and threw it towards the ceiling so skilfully that it spun round like a propeller. But before it came down and he caught it with his right foot, he managed to empty his glass. Then he took out a snuff box from the pocket of his waistcoat, sprinkled some green powder on his ankle, drew it all in and sneezed with such force that he woke up the frail old Schwartz, who had meanwhile fallen asleep.
Then, when this episode was over and everyone suddenly stopped talking as if overcome with unexpected shyness, Petr Brok spoke. Not because he wanted to reveal himself. He simply had the urge to speak into the hunchback's ear, ask him about something he wanted to know. He would merely whisper his question so that the hunchback would be convinced that it was one of his companions speaking. Brok felt awkward in his invisible state, disadvantaged, isolated, excluded from their trust, dependent on long and fruitless debates that brought him no benefit... He wanted to ask the little hunchback his question, but the others' ears were like monitors camouflaged with tufts of hair. And so he brought his mouth almost to the hunchback's ear and asked in a colourless, quiet voice, as if nothing were amiss: "Tell me, what does the divine Ohisver Muller look like?"
The hunchback froze, his eyes popped out and his jaw dropped at the same time, his face puffed up with shock. To Brok it appeared to stretch momentarily from wall to wall. But it was just an illusion. The hunchback's pale face was back between his shoulders like a wedge driven into a lump of wood. — He jumped up, becoming a head shorter because the legs of the chair were longer than his.
"Which one of you spoke?" he screamed. "I say, who's just spoken?"
The others were surprised. No-one else had spoken since he himself had finished talking!
"I heard a voice! I swear by Lord Muller! "The hunchback raised his right hand towards the round glass in the ceiling. "I'm not lying! Someone is here!"
"Perhaps the Great Muller deigned to.," the poison master stated humbly and looked up to the ceiling with dread.
"No, no! Someone asked about Muller himself."
"Who?"
"A voice! A voice whispered in my ear!"
"Is that Kawai talking? Have you infected your own brain with madness?"
"You are mad, all of you! I swear! By every one of my fifty thousand stars!"
Old Schwartz sympathetically tapped his forehead: as careful as he might have been with his gas, the hunchback himself was probably suffering from dementia.
Meanwhile, Petr Brok sat quietly on the chair vacated by the agent. He felt an enormous power over these human freaks; he could show them if he wanted to. He thought about the revolution on the workers' floors, about Vítek of Vítkovice, about everything these scoundrels were planning, and wondered how he could get rid of them without getting his own invisible hands dirty.
At that moment, he found the poison master's juicy, bottomless nose in front of him, just emptied and already filling up again. This tragic nose had irritated him from the beginning, made him feel almost painful disgust. Unable to bear it any longer, Brok, overwhelmed with hatred for that ghastly nose, picked up a glass and threw it with all his might. — Blood spurted, the poison master floundered. The rest of them jumped up horrified and grabbed their noses.
But this all happened in a matter of seconds and soon the gang came to their senses. They stood with their backs to each other and, in a split second, were all holding revolvers. The black, wide-open eyes of the weapons moved around, aiming into space. A mad crossfire sounded in the cube. There were gunshots, whistling bullets, shattering mirrors and dust rising from all corners.
And the armless Garpona raged more than anyone else. Lying on the table on his back, he pushed himself round with one foot, his dagger in the other stabbing in all directions, looking more like a harpy than a human being.
XII
The treacherous lenses on the blind man's temples
· Petr Brok was trapped · Escape
· The lift — and the dream again
Petr Brok shivered. He could have sworn that the sharp lenses on the blind man's temples were staring at him!
It was as if his face were made of stone, eyelids stitched together, as still as a sphinx. But the sharply cut lenses, burning inside, were staring straight into Brok's face.
Was it an illusion? Or had he given himself away? Was it possible that the blind man could see him?
Brok got up. The lenses lifted, following his face. Then the blind man touched his temples, adjusting a small serrated ring, as if focusing a microscope. It seemed to Brok that his every movement was captured by these lenses.
Unknown terror passed through his body like ice-cold lightning. His knees buckled. He sat down again and lowered his eyes to the table. Terrified, he looked up to see two black flames burning in the lenses like hot coals. — Then the marble face became hideously distorted, and a hand pointed a finger between his eyes like the barrel of a gun.
The blind man screamed: "Here he is! Block the doors! — No shooting! We have to get him alive!"
Armless Garpona leapt to one door, Perker to the other, while the blind Orsag traced Brok's every movement with the barrel of his index finger, approaching him very slowly, circling around him, ready to pounce.
Petr Brok was trapped. He had to fight his way through to one of the doors; otherwise, he was going to fall into their hands. One door was blocked by Big Nose, the other by Garpona, who was balancing on one foot, locking the door with the other. Brok made a move towards the door. Orsag shouted and stood in his way. Brok punched him in the stomach, tripped Garpona up by his single foot, leapt to the door, opened it, rushed through and shut it behind him, all in one split second. Then he raced down a narrow dark alleyway — where to he had no idea...
My God, how many steps he had to run up and down, how many corridors with walls diverging and converging, with undulating ceilings. How many rooms he rushed through, how many spacious halls, dark holes and tiny spaces serving God knows what purpose. At one point, he found himself on a gallery surrounding an empty, dusty hall. Then he crossed a hidden bridge over the abyss of a skylight. — And behind him the stomping of feet like a drum call, growing in number and moving faster and faster. And then more alleyways, steps and arcades, followed by more open spaces.
Brok entered a smooth, shiny cylinder. It was a sewer! No, it was the muzzle of a cannon. No! It was an astronomer's telescope, becoming narrower and narrower. He could only crawl on his knees and soon he would only be able to wriggle forward, inch by inch, like a caterpillar, until he could go no further. This was the end, the end. But the telescope suddenly ended with a wire mesh. Brok grabbed it and shook it desperately.
Strange! — He could remove the rusty sieve easily, without effort. Petr Brok slipped through and closed it behind him. The floor under his feet began descending. At the last minute, he glimpsed a face with a broken nose behind the mesh. One second longer and it would have been too late.
In the lift, during his endless fall into an abyss, that unbearable sensation caught up with him again. — An intolerable pressure clamped his brain like a vice, until he almost lost consciousness again. The terrible dream returned to torment him. He struggled with all his might to stave off nightmarish monsters, to stop them entering his mind, for fear he might once more fall into that foul subterranean hole where something terrifying was happening inside grey cocoons.
Petr Brok was terrified of these dreams. He felt as if his old body woke up in them, having lost its immateriality. He was reminded of the existence of his old body with all its aches and pains. He was afraid he might perish in one of his dreams before he completed his mission high up there, on one of Mullerdom's thousand floors.
XIII
Chapter about stars · Planetary trade and industry · Advertising · Seashell as a talisman
When Petr Brok recovered his senses, the lift had come to a standstill. His eyelids were still heavy with the dream when he entered a wide crowded arcade. Where was he now? What floor was he on? How far down did he still have to go to find Muller? Was this perhaps the Tower of Babel?
On both sides, people were lingering in front of splendid altar-like shop windows with their hands in their pockets. Next to the luxury shops were kiosks and stalls where florists, perfume sellers, photographers, antique dealers, junk merchants and many other traders were praising their strange wares loudly. Delicatessen shop windows were odes to plenty, paeans to symmetry, boasting towers, pyramids and garlands made of miraculous fruits, creatures, colourful boxes and tins. These were the goods brought from other planets! Petr Brok read:
Healing water from
Lake Alpha
on Star M14!
Edible moss from the rainforests of Star C71!
•
NA-HA powder
from birds' wings from
Z179!
•
Perfumes made with tears of angels from
D55!
•
Blood of elfin dwarfs
(H70)
to cure monkey disease!
•
Hormonal glands of water creatures – a delicacy on B1!
•
Shoes made of the skin of F99 origons are indestructible!
•
Manna from
B64
tastes like almonds!
Other advertisements offered planetary emigrants various products from home:
Settlers on
L20
– Seeds of the best quality!
A single seed brings you
a hundred times better harvest!
ACHA powder
to protect against pink insects on
C71!
You won't regret your purchase.
It'll be money well spent!
•
AZ
astronomical watch
will show you the right time
on any planet!!!
Lower your blood pressure
in Spiral Galaxy
with Spiral balm!
Metal strips, beads, mirrors
and aluminium foil
for natives of K5
will secure their services!!!
Throw LANA chocolate
to erols on Z2!
They'll give you anything
you want in return!
Waterproof umbrellas, coats and tents
to keep out night rain on K86!
Buy SHADE sunglasses
if you want to sleep on S34,
the planet of eternal day!
Buy your insurance
before travelling
to new planetary worlds!
Live inhabitants of G5
in PANOPTIKUM OMEGA
will make you laugh till you cry!
Under a marquee with red and yellow stripes, a sea-shell vendor displays shells resembling stars, flowers and animals or nothing at all in this world. The vendor holds the seashells up one by one, putting them to his ear, whispering something to them and then again he howls at the crowds in a hoarse voice:
An IZA seashell
from planet B55
used as a paperweight on your desk
will inspire you when writing letters!
An O-RA seashell
from the black lake on F39
resembles a black swan!
Secretly slip it to your enemy
to make him plagued by failure!
Like water lilies
from a frozen star,
A-KA seashells hold the secret
to success in love!
U-VA seashells from the star
Albatros
resemble petrified butterflies.
Put one under your pillow and dream of the stars!
The NE-O seashell from P44
sounds like a stormy ocean
and will protect you on all your travels
through Mullerdom for ten years!"
Opposite the seashell vendor stands an art dealer with paintings of fantastic planetary landscapes and cities. Next to him, another vendor hollers, and then another one. Competing with them, the cracking fir
eworks of advertisements burn stigmata onto the forehead of the night.
XIV
The terror of darkness · The export and import company · UNIVERSE — transport to the stars · Petr Brok can't remember · Λ Dutch colony on the moon
Suddenly all the lights went out and the entire space under the glass bell jar exploded with darkness. A catastrophe!
Maybe the power plant workers had rebelled, too, and joined the revolution. Maybe all the floors had been plunged into darkness, and a terrible, endless night was about to start, full of monsters and blood.
MULLERDOM WITHOUT ANY WINDOWS!
Petr Brok had no time to imagine the horror of it, the horror that would grip this absurd ant hill of Muller's thousand-floor empire — when he was surprised by a great light. — But wasn't Mullerdom a world on its own where Muller himself dictated when it would be day and night? It wasn't the sun, but blazing letters written on the blackboard of the night by an invisible hand.
Buy plots on other planets
with low-interest loans
UNIVERSE COMPANY
And it continued:
Eternal spring on the shores of star E4
Live a fairytale in the blue valleys of star M21
Become an angel on star R25
Celestial women of
IKI-LA
long for you
You can be a king on star J25