“I think,” said Korisu with typical stolidity, “that you often let yourself be carried away by the Earthmen’s advertising, Seranimu. You have let those people work on your mind until you think you are doing the things they claim they can teach you. Rot, I say.”
“Have it your way,” shrugged Seranimu. “I tried to prove it to you. I teleported a book in your own apartment, and you just laughed. You said either I had hypnotized you, or your eyes showed you the impossible and therefore lied.”
“I would rather believe my good sense than my eyes any day,” murmured Korisu. The prej halted their clicking round. Seranimu leaned forward, scooped his from the floor.
“You have a closed mind,” he said. “You will not believe the Earthmen have developed psi powers any more than you will believe that Earth-made refrigerators are better than that piece of junk you bought on Bolangus. You would rather lie with a broken leg than admit a physician might heal it for you.”
“I know about broken legs,” said Korisu serenely. “The treatment for them is accomplished fact. You forget, Seranimu, that I am a temperament analyzer. I know my job well. Even without resort to laboratory paraphernalia, I can analyze your temperament without difficulty. You are a self-centered dreamer with overtones of exhibitionism.”
“Thank you,” said Seranimu, coldly polite. “Consider your fee my next loss at prej!”
“Korisu!” said Anisel. “If Seranimu believes, it is his business. Remember that you are a guest.”
“Thank you, Anisel,” said Seranimu gratefully. “When you tire of that stupid oaf for a husband, you may come live with Pimo and me.”
Pimo, sitting tailor-fashion beside him, pinched him.
Later, when Korisu and Anisel had gone, Seranimu said to Pimo, “Korisu is an idiot. That is all I can say for him.”
“I know you are accomplished, lover,” said Pimo graciously. “Why seek admiration outside our family circle?” Seranimu felt that Pimo had put a double meaning there, but he ignored it.
“Korisu is my friend,” he said crossly. “I should like to convince him.”
“Friend,” sniffed Pimo. “Well, all right as a friend, I suppose. But don’t take too much for granted, lover. He was in the other day, while you were gone. He suggested analyzing my temperament.”
“Korisu thinks of nothing but his job.”
“And your job is looking. Do you spend your free time looking at Korisu’s wife? I should hope not. Anisel would slap you to sleep.”
“You misjudge Korisu. He has zeal.”
“Not to mention a few other things, more apparent to a woman’s eyes. Still, I would not shatter your illusions about the fellow. I can take care of myself.”
“You doubtless have dishes waiting in the kitchen,” Seranimu said coldly. “Go attend to them. I have some writing to do before going to bed.”
Invoking husbandly prerogative was the best Seranimu could do to defend himself. He had slipped, he admitted, in bragging to Korisu. The lessons had warned him. How about Korisu, now? He sighed. Women sometimes imagine men are chasing them. Again, didn’t Korisu often act a little odd around Pimo, making with a sort of simpering attitude, having a little of bowing and scraping in it? He tried to wash his mind of the implication.
* * * *
“Don’t complain to me,” said Pimo, when Seranimu protested that not even Flanagan, of Home Study Mind Power, Inc., Earth, paid any attention to his claims of success.
“It would seem,” grumbled Seranimu, “that my own instructor thinks I’m lying to him. He just writes back, recommending more study, more hard work. He never pats me on the back, saying, ‘You have done very well, Seranimu.’ I like recognition for my work.”
“Aren’t you getting your seven shrilr a month worth?” asked Pimo drily.
Exasperated, Seranimu teleported a vase of flowers across the room and smashed it against the wall.
“Shame!” said Pimo, picking up the pieces. “Not satisfied with your accomplishments, you must have recognition, too. Well, why don’t you show this Flanagan you can do as you say?”
Seranimu gave her a contemptuous look. “I should have to go to Earth to do that. Three thousand light-years, woman! Have you any idea what it would cost to reprofax a man of my bulk that far?”
“You are a mental giant,” said Pimo. “Why depend on reprofax? Teleport yourself!”
The import of her words dazed Seranimu. He staggered. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He knew why he hadn’t. The very thought made sweat break out all over him in stinging little globules. Teleport himself three thousand light-years? Hit exactly a tiny grain of sand at the other end of the trajectory? He shuddered. The possibility was fraught with error.
“Well, it’s your problem,” said Pimo airily. “All I did was suggest. Do as you please, but don’t bother me with your gripes. As you are fond of noting, I have dishes to do—why can’t I get a government stipend as a dishwasher?”
“Woman’s place is in the home,” rebuked Seranimu. “You may thank God it has not yet been turned into a government job!”
“If it were,” said Pimo slyly, “it would undoubtedly be departmented, with a rate of pay for each department. In some departments, Seranimu, I could get rich off you!”
She went out, slamming the door.
As little as any man wants to admit it, his wife occasionally has an idea almost as good as one he could think up himself. Seranimu wrote to Flanagan, baring his abused state of mind and concluding,
Furthermore, Mr. Flanagan, since you do not believe I tell the truth, I shall visit you on Earth three days from now and prove it. Shame on you. You should have more faith in me. Respectfully, Seranimu; Morfors, Zingu.
He sealed the letter and reprofaxed it.
First, he had to wangle a leave from his job. He had vacation time coming. That disposed of, he went about the other preparations. Three days later, he kissed Pimo goodbye, settled himself and tried to concentrate. He could not at all seem to get into the proper frame of mind, until he realized what it was that worried him.
He got up from his squat, crossed the hall and knocked at Korisu’s door.
Anisel answered, smiling at him. She’s very pretty, thought Seranimu, daring to think so as he looked at her. Doubtless, she secretly admires me.
He said, fawning, “Is Korisu at home?”
“Yes,” she said, with a trace of what seemed like reluctant assent. Was she disappointed, then, that he came when Korisu was at home?
Seranimu expanded with a fine humor. “A time for the beast,” he said, “a time later for beauty.” He beamed and winked at her.
Anisel laughed, appreciating the compliment.
“I heard that,” said Korisu, coming to the door. “By what right do you comment on my wife’s beauty?” He turned to Anisel. “Go into the kitchen and do your dishes dear.”
It came as a shock to Seranimu to realize that Anisel soiled her pretty hands in dishwater, just like Pimo. What a brute Korisu must be to make her do it!
He said, as soon as the door closed behind Anisel, “I am going away for a brief time, Korisu.”
“Good!” grunted Korisu. “We shall be spared the look of your ugly face.” He laughed to show he didn’t mean it. “Vacation Center, eh?”
“That government stewpot?” Seranimu frowned. “Much farther, Korisu. I won’t say how far. I want to tell you I am leaving Pimo here. I am asking you to stay out of my apartment while I am gone, and refrain from trying to analyze Pimo’s temperament.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” said Korisu innocently.
Seranimu broke the rules and took a peep into Korisu’s mind. What he saw there convinced him Korisu was a liar of the worst.
“I know a few things,” Seranimu said darkly. “I just thought a warning proper, that
is all.”
* * * *
Seranimu looked dazedly at his surroundings. The intense concentration required for teleportation had left him groggy. The place was definitely alien. Was it Earth? Spacious lawns, tree-dotted, shrubbed and flowered, undulated gently to the horizon. Low buildings, set here and there among clumps of trees, had an aspect of serene relaxation. He had certainly left Zingu, no doubt about it. Overpopulated Zingu was nowhere like this.
He looked at the building before him, his sight clearing. Over the door was a sign. Home Study Mind Power, Inc. He started, surprised. Why, he had done it! With a little finer direction, he might have landed in Flanagan’s own office!
So this was Earth—where people did as they pleased, where there was room to move about… Seranimu let his glance roam again across the grand width of open area. If only it were like this on Zingu!
He turned his attention back to the building, realizing that the sign on it was in Morforese. Smaller letters informed him that this was the Zinguan Division of Home Study Mind Power. To reach the Bolangus Division, follow the arrow. Other arrows pointed in other directions, with other names beside them. The building gleamed in the light of a mellow sun. Fleecy clouds drifted above it. The air was warm and sweet with the unaccustomed smell of growing things.
Seranimu squared his shoulders and went inside.
“Hello,” said a busty young woman at a desk just within the door. “You must be Seranimu.”
She spoke passable Morforese with a peculiar, lilting accent which he thought charming and quite in keeping with her doll-like size. His eight-foot height towered over her in the foyer. She had to bend her head far back to look up and smile at him.
“Mr. Flanagan is expecting you. Since you did not come reprofax transmission from through on the last regular Zingu, we decided you must be coming by special. I’ll tell Mr. Flanagan you’re here.”
She went away, adjusting her already meticulous coiffure with darting motions of hands that seemed to Seranimu unbelievably tiny.
Of course, he had known that Earthmen seldom reach a stature much above six feet, but this girl was even smaller. Seranimu found it simply difficult to adjust immediately to a world of “little people.”
Flanagan turned out to be short, balding, paunchy, anachronistically inclined to the wearing of spectacles. His attitude was cold.
“You may go, Clarissa,” he said, waving a hand at his doll-like secretary.
He spoke idiomatic Morforese with an excellent inflection. Clarissa smiled daintily at Seranimu and withdrew. Seranimu smiled politely at the closed door in return. Cute, he thought, but not up to Pimo…or Anisel. Not enough body.
“Sit down,” said Flanagan, not looking directly at him. “That is…”
He seemed embarrassed. There wasn’t a chair in the office that would have held Seranimu’s bulk or weight. Seranimu smiled and seated himself cross-legged on the floor. The building shook as he settled himself.
Flanagan, behind his desk, took off his glasses and polished them nervously.
“If it is a question of asking for your money back,” he said, “I am prepared to give you a draft at once. Clarissa is drawing it up now. It will take care of the amount you have paid for tuition, plus the expense you have been out on reprofax.”
What was Flanagan thinking about? Seranimu dared break the rules for a momentary peep into the Earthman’s mind, but without result. Failure jolted Seranimu. Did his psi powers fail him here on Earth, among these psi conscious Earth-folk?
“I want to show you how well I can do the lessons,” he said aggressively, “and I didn’t come by reprofax. I teleported myself.”
“Naturally,” sneered Flanagan. “You didn’t come by starship, of course. There’s limiting velocity, and all that. I know reprofax is expensive, but we are prepared to reimburse—”
“Perhaps you did not hear,” said Seranimu. “I teleported myself, as in Lesson Twenty-Six!”
Flanagan stabbed at him with his glittering spectacles.
“If you came here to pull my leg, Seranimu, forget it! I was not born yesterday.” He fumbled on his desk, picked up a memo. “It says here you came in by reprofax, special transmission from Zingu, at two-fifty-two P.M. I guess the Reprofax Company knows who its customers are!”
Seranimu shook his head. Was his mind slipping! Or was Flanagan simply crazy?
“We’ve had people like you around here before,” Flanagan continued flatly. “You come in, raise a fuss, then holler for your money back. Well, I’m saving you some trouble. You can have your money back.”
“I don’t want my money back!” cried Seranimu, beginning to feel angry.
“Listen here, fellow! If you think you can sue us for fraud and make it stick, you’re in for a surprise!” Flanagan leaned back in his swivel chair, scowling severely. “We operate our institution on an eighty-six point seven percent refund basis to take care of you smart cookies who complain. We make our profit off the dumb clucks who can’t see through our hocus-pocus.”
Did Flanagan admit that Home Study Mind Power was only a fraud? That he, himself, was a cheap crook, selling what he thought was a valueless course of instruction in nothing?
“I can show you I am a Mental Giant!” shouted Seranimu.
The building quaked. Flanagan, a pained expression on his face, put both hands over his ears.
“Stop shouting, and don’t be a fool! Home Study Mind Power has never made a mental giant out of anybody! I tell you it’s all fraud—but you’d be hard put to prove it in a court of law. Don’t think you can sue! You’d better take the money we offer you and be satisfied.”
“I’ll show you!” Seranimu bit off.
If he could levitate Flanagan from his chair, up near the ceiling someplace, maybe that would convince him. He concentrated. Flanagan tapped the desktop with his glasses.
“Are you ill or something?”
“No,” growled Seranimu. “I’m not ill!”
“Then what are you grunting about?”
“I didn’t know I was,” Seranimu retorted sourly. He was annoyed. Things were different on this planet Earth than on Zingu. He said, “My wife, Pimo, knows what I can do. I will teleport her here and let her convince you!”
He realized vaguely that Flanagan had stood up suddenly, but the queer, rushing sensation in his mind immediately overwhelmed him. He had the confidence gained from teleporting himself to Earth. He found Zingu, sensed himself over Morfors. He narrowed his field of concentration… his own apartment… his own living room… The close rapport of home engulfed him. He felt a living presence. He grasped and snatched.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. A figure towered over him in Flanagan’s office. Not Pimo—Korisu!
“Seranimu!” roared the new arrival. “Where am I?”
Seranimu jumped up. “Not where are you—where were you? What were you doing in my living room?”
Korisu glanced once at Seranimu’s working features, blanched, stepped backward. “Now, look, old friend—”
“My living room!” thundered Seranimu. “I warned you!”
All the rage and frustration that had been building in him from Flanagan’s cold, mad reception burst forth upon the bewildered person of Korisu. Seranimu lunged at him. They grappled, swaying back and forth. They plunged to the floor and the building shook as if in the grip of an earthquake. Earth people were shouting around then scampering madly back and forth. Furniture smashed and splintered as they rolled upon it. They clawed and thumped each other. They grunted, wheezed and swore. Korisu clamped his hands on Seranimu’s throat. Seranimu was surprised. He was the injured husband, with right on his side. Should he not be the one to best Korisu? As it was, strength was leaving him rapidly, and it was all he could do to keep on belting his neighbor in the face.
So this w
as the way it ended, he thought. A roaring in the ears, shadows sweeping in, bursting lights in a darkness of pain. Well, what was there to live for, anyway? Better dead in fact than the living death of… Lesson Fifteen, he thought. I am going down the long road because Korisu is a better man than I. Lesson Fifteen. I am dying all right, I can feel it so plain. Lesson Fifteen. Devil take… Lesson Fifteen… How to Overcome… Physical Opposition…with Mental Power…
Seranimu went limp, twitching a little. His mind gathered, coordinated and hurled its energy. At once, he could breathe again. Korisu’s clutching fingers fell away from his throat. Korisu himself fell back thunderously upon the floor. Seranimu got up, rubbing his neck.
There were a number of the little Earth people in the room, men and women, dodging about to avoid his weaving passage, gibbering in their own language.
“Did you kill him, Seranimu?” cried Flanagan worriedly.
“I didn’t hurt him…much,” rasped Seranimu. “I’m sorry now that I…”
Flanagan seemed relieved. He straightened and looked severe. “A fine mess you’ve made of the place,” he glowered. He turned to the other Earth people. “Get out of here, all of you. I’ll handle this.” He turned back to Seranimu and shook a finger up at him. “You’ll pay for this damage, all right! I’m going to sue. It will cost you a pretty penny, too. Just look at what you’ve done! Every bit of furniture smashed—probably the roof and the foundations are damaged, too. Oh, you’ll pay for this, fellow! Now take your friend and get out of here. You will hear from our lawyers!”
* * * *
“I was sorry I acted hastily almost immediately,” explained Seranimu later to Pimo, in the privacy of their apartment on Zingu. He nursed a bruised neck. “Especially, after Korisu fastened his grip on my neck and I couldn’t shake him loose. How was I to know Anisel had sent him over to borrow some sugar?” Pimo sighed. “It is a good thing you made up with him for it. I’m sorry now I said about him what I did that time. I only said it because I was jealous of the attention you were paying Anisel.”
The 7th Golden Age of Weird Fiction MEGAPACK®: Manly Banister Page 49