I held her arm firmly and tenderly and tried to look into her eyes, but she looked away. Said I, “What did it say?”
“Paul and Virginia.”
“So what?” said I.
I scarcely knew her. Her lips were tense and compressed. She was not angry. It was something different, worse. She was in the grip of tension. I suppose we had not seen that for thousands of years, either. “Paul, seize this simple fact, if you can grasp it. The machine gave that woman our names—but it gave them to her twelve years ago.”
Macht stood up so suddenly that his chair fell over, and the waiter began running toward us.
“That settles it,” he said. “We’re all going back.”
“Going where?” I said.
“To the Abba-dingo.”
“But why now?” said I; and, “Will it work?” said Virginia, both at the same time.
“It always works,” said Macht, “if you go on the northern side.”
“How do you get there?” said Virginia.
Macht frowned sadly. “There’s only one way. By Alpha Ralpha Boulevard.” Virginia stood up. And so did I.
Then, as I rose, I remembered. Alpha Ralpha Boulevard. It was a ruined street hanging in the sky, faint as a vapor trail. It had been a processional highway once, where conquerors came down and tribute went up. But it was ruined, lost in the clouds, closed to mankind for a hundred centuries.
“I know it,” said I. “It’s ruined.”
Macht said nothing, but he stared at me as if I were an outsider…
Virginia, very quiet and white of countenance, said, “Come along.”
“But why,” said I. “Why?”
“You fool,” she said, “if we don’t have a God, at least we have a machine. This is the only thing left on or off the world which the Instrumentality doesn’t understand. Maybe it tells the future. Maybe it’s an un-machine. It certainly comes from a different time. Can’t you use it, darling? If it says we’re us, we’re us.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’re not.” Her face was sullen with grief.
“What do you mean?”
“If we’re not us,” she said, “we’re just toys, dolls, puppets that the Lords have written on. You’re not you and I’m not me. But if the Abba-dingo, which knew the names Paul and Virginia twelve years before it happened—if the Abba-dingo says that we are us, I don’t care if it’s a predicting machine or a god or a devil or a what. I don’t care, but I’ll have the truth.”
What could I have answered to that? Macht led, she followed, and I walked third in single file. We left the sunlight of The Greasy Cat; just as we left, a light rain began to fall. The waiter, looking momentarily like the machine that he was, stared straight ahead. We crossed the lip of the underground and went down to the fast expressway.
When we came out, we were in a region of fine homes. All were in ruins. The trees had thrust their way into the buildings. Flowers rioted across the lawn, through the open doors, and blazed in the roofless rooms. Who needed a house in the open, when the population of Earth had dropped so that the cities were commodious and empty?
Once I thought I saw a family of homunculi, including little ones, peering at me as we trudged along the soft gravel road. Maybe the faces I had seen at the edge of the house were fantasies.
Macht said nothing.
Virginia and I held hands as we walked beside him. I could have been happy at this odd excursion, but her hand was tightly clenched in mine. She bit her lower lip from time to time. I knew it mattered to her—she was on a pilgrimage. (A pilgrimage was an ancient walk to some powerful place, very good for body and soul.) I didn’t mind going along. In fact, they could not have kept me from coming, once she and Macht decided to leave the café. But I didn’t have to take it seriously. Did I?
What did Macht want?
Who was Macht? What thoughts had that mind learned in two short weeks? How had he preceded us into a new world of danger and adventure? I did not trust him. For the first time in my life I felt alone. Always, always, up to now, I had only to think about the Instrumentality and some protector leaped fully armed into my mind. Telepathy guarded against all dangers, healed all hurts, carried each of us forward to the one hundred and forty-six thousand and ninety-seven days which had been allotted us. Now it was different. I did not know this man, and it was on him that I relied, not on the powers which had shielded and protected us.
We turned from the ruined road into an immense boulevard. The pavement was so smooth and unbroken that nothing grew on it, save where the wind and dust had deposited random little pockets of earth.
Macht stopped.
“This is it,” he said. “Alpha Ralpha Boulevard.”
We fell silent and looked at the causeway of forgotten empires.
To our left the boulevard disappeared in a gentle curve. It led far north of the city in which I had been reared. I knew that there was another city to the north, but I had forgotten its name. Why should I have remembered it? It was sure to be just like my own.
But to the right—
To the right the boulevard rose sharply, like a ramp. It disappeared into the clouds. Just at the edge of the cloud-line there was a hint of disaster. I could not see for sure, but it looked to me as though the whole boulevard had been sheared off by unimaginable forces. Somewhere beyond the clouds there stood the Abba-dingo, the place where all questions were answered…
Or so they thought.
Virginia cuddled close to me.
“Let’s turn back,” said I. “We are city people. We don’t know anything about ruins.”
“You can if you want to,” said Macht. “I was just trying to do you a favor.”
We both looked at Virginia.
She looked up at me with those brown eyes. From the eyes there came a plea older than woman or man, older than the human race. I knew what she was going to say before she said it. She was going to say that she had to know.
Macht was idly crushing some soft rocks near his foot.
At last Virginia spoke up: “Paul, I don’t want danger for its own sake. But I meant what I said back there. Isn’t there a chance that we were told to love each other? What sort of a life would it be if our happiness, our own selves, depended on a thread in a machine or on a mechanical voice which spoke to us when we were asleep and learning French? It may be fun to go back to the old world. I guess it is. I know that you give me a kind of happiness which I never even suspected before this day. If it’s really us, we have something wonderful, and we ought to know it. But if it isn’t—” She burst into sobs.
I wanted to say, “If it isn’t, it will seem just the same,” but the ominous sulky face of Macht looked at me over Virginia’s shoulder as I drew her to me. There was nothing to say.
I held her close.
From beneath Macht’s foot there flowed a trickle of blood. The dust drank it up.
“Macht,” said I, “are you hurt?”
Virginia turned around, too.
Macht raised his eyebrows at me and said with unconcern, “No. Why?”
“The blood. At your feet.”
He glanced down. “Oh, those,” he said, “they’re nothing. Just the eggs of some kind of an un-bird which does not even fly.”
“Stop it!” I shouted telepathically, using the Old Common Tongue. I did not even try to think in our new-learned French.
He stepped back a pace in surprise.
Out of nothing there came to me a message; thankyou thankyou goodgreat gohomeplease thankyou goodgreat goaway manbad manbad manbad…Somewhere an animal or bird was warning me against Macht. I thought a casual thanks to it and turned my attention to Macht.
He and I stared at each other. Was this what culture was? Were we now men? Did freedom always include the freedom to mistrust, to fear, to hate?
I liked him not at all. The words of forgotten crimes came into my mind: assassination, murder, abduction, insanity, rape, robbery…
We had known
none of these things and yet I felt them all.
He spoke evenly to me. We had both been careful to guard our minds against being read telepathically, so that our only means of communication were empathy and French. “It’s your idea,” he said, most untruthfully, “or at least your lady’s…”
“Has lying already come into the world,” said I, “so that we walk into the clouds for no reason at all?”
“There is a reason,” said Macht.
I pushed Virginia gently aside and capped my mind so tightly that the anti-telepathy felt like a headache.
“Macht,” said I, and I myself could hear the snarl of an animal in my own voice, “tell me why you have brought us here or I will kill you.”
He did not retreat. He faced me, ready for a fight. He said, “Kill? You mean, to make me dead?” but his words did not carry conviction. Neither one of us knew how to fight, but he readied for defense and I for attack.
Underneath my thought shield an animal thought crept in: goodman goodman take him by the neck no-air he-aaah no-air he-aaah like broken egg…
I took the advice without worrying where it came from. It was simple. I walked over to Macht, reached my hands around his throat, and squeezed. He tried to push my hands away. Then he tried to kick me. All I did was hang on to his throat. If I had been a Lord or a Go-captain, I might have known about fighting. But I did not, and neither did he.
It ended when a sudden weight dragged at my hands.
Out of surprise, I let go.
Macht had become unconscious. Was that dead?
It could not have been, because he sat up. Virginia ran to him. He rubbed his throat and said with a rough voice:
“You should not have done that.”
This gave me courage. “Tell me,” I spat at him, “tell me why you wanted us to come, or I will do it again.”
Macht grinned weakly. He leaned his head against Virginia’s arm. “It’s fear,” he said. “Fear.”
“Fear?” I knew the word—peur—but not the meaning. Was it some kind of disquiet or animal alarm?
I had been thinking with my mind open; he thought back yes.
“But why do you like it?” I asked.
It is delicious, he thought. It makes me sick and thrilly and alive. It is like strong medicine, almost as good as stroon. I went there before. High up, I had much fear. It was wonderful and bad and good, all at the same time. I lived a thousand years in a single hour. I wanted more of it, but I thought it would be even more exciting with other people.
“Now I will kill you,” said I in French. “You are very—very…” I had to look for the word. “You are very evil.”
“No,” said Virginia, “let him talk.”
He thought at me, not bothering with words. This is what the Lords of the Instrumentality never let us have. Fear. Reality. We were born in a stupor and we died in a dream. Even the underpeople, the animals, had more life than we did. The machines did not have fear. That’s what we were. Machines who thought they were men. And now we are free.
He saw the edge of raw, red anger in my mind, and he changed the subject. I did not lie to you. This is the way to the Abba-dingo. I have been there. It works. On this side, it always works.
“It works,” cried Virginia. “You see he says so. It works! He is telling the truth. Oh, Paul, do let’s go on!”
“All right,” said I, “we’ll go.”
I helped him rise. He looked embarrassed, like a man who has shown something of which he is ashamed.
We walked onto the surface of the indestructible boulevard. It was comfortable to the feet.
At the bottom of my mind the little unseen bird or animal babbled its thoughts at me: goodman goodman make him dead take water take water…
I paid no attention as I walked forward with her and him, Virginia between us. I paid no attention.
I wish I had.
We walked for a long time.
The process was new to us. There was something exhilarating in knowing that no one guarded us, that the air was free air, moving without benefit of weather machines. We saw many birds, and when I thought at them I found their minds startled and opaque; they were natural birds, the like of which I had never seen before. Virginia asked me their names, and I outrageously applied all the bird-names which we had learned in French without knowing whether they were historically right or not.
Maximilien Macht cheered up, too, and he even sang us a song, rather off key, to the effect that we would take the high road and he the low one, but that he would be in Scotland before us. It did not make sense, but the lilt was pleasant. Whenever he got a certain distance ahead of Virginia and me, I made up variations on “Macouba” and sang-whispered the phrases into her pretty ear:
She wasn’t the woman I went to seek.
I met her by the merest chance.
She did not speak the French of France,
But the surded French of Martinique.
We were happy in adventure and freedom, until we became hungry. Then our troubles began.
Virginia stepped up to a lamp-post, struck it lightly with her fist, and said, “Feed me.” The post should either have opened, serving us a dinner, or else told us where, within the next few hundred yards, food was to be had. It did neither. It did nothing. It must have been broken.
With that, we began to make a game of hitting every single post.
Alpha Ralpha Boulevard had risen about half a kilometer above the surrounding countryside. The wild birds wheeled below us. There was less dust on the pavement, and fewer patches of weeds. The immense road, with no pylons below it, curved like an unsupported ribbon into the clouds.
We wearied of beating posts and there was neither food nor water.
Virginia became fretful: “It won’t do any good to go back now. Food is even farther the other way. I do wish you’d brought something.”
How should I have thought to carry food? Who ever carries food? Why would they carry it, when it is everywhere? My darling was unreasonable, but she was my darling and I loved her all the more for the sweet imperfections of her temper.
Macht kept tapping pillars, partly to keep out of our fight, and obtained an unexpected result.
At one moment I saw him leaning over to give the pillar of a large lamp the usual hearty but guarded whop—in the next instant he yelped like a dog and was sliding uphill at a high rate of speed. I heard him shout something, but could not make out the words, before he disappeared into the clouds ahead.
Virginia looked at me. “Do you want to go back now? Macht is gone. We can say that I got tired.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course, darling.”
I laughed, a little angrily. She had insisted that we come, and now she was ready to turn around and give it up, just to please me.
“Never mind,” said I. “It can’t be far now. Let’s go on.”
“Paul…” She stood close to me. Her brown eyes were troubled, as though she were trying to see all the way into my mind through my eyes. I thought to her, Do you want to talk this way?
“No,” said she, in French. “I want to say things one at a time. Paul, I do want to go to the Abba-dingo. I need to go. It’s the biggest need in my life. But at the same time, I don’t want to go. There is something wrong up there. I would rather have you on the wrong terms than not have you at all. Something could happen.”
Edgily, I demanded, “Are you getting this ‘fear’ that Macht was talking about?”
“Oh, no, Paul, not at all. This feeling isn’t exciting. It feels like something broken in a machine—”
“Listen!” I interrupted her.
From far ahead, from within the clouds, there came a sound like an animal wailing. There were words in it. It must have been Macht. I thought I heard “take care.” When I sought him with my mind, the distance made circles and I got dizzy.
“Let’s follow, darling,” said I.
“Yes, Paul,” said she, and in her voice there was an unfathomable
mixture of happiness, resignation, and despair…
Before we moved on, I looked carefully at her. She was my girl. The sky had turned yellow and the lights were not yet on. In the yellow rich sky her brown curls were tinted with gold, her brown eyes approached the black in their irises, her young and fate-haunted face seemed more meaningful than any other human face I had ever seen.
“You are mine,” I said.
“Yes, Paul,” she answered me and then smiled brightly, “You said it! That is doubly nice.”
A bird on the railing looked sharply at us and then left. Perhaps he did not approve of human nonsense, so flung himself downward into dark air. I saw him catch himself, far below, and ride lazily on his wings.
“We’re not as free as birds, darling,” I told Virginia, “but we are freer than people have been for a hundred centuries.”
For answer she hugged my arm and smiled at me.
“And now,” I added, “to follow Macht. Put your arms around me and hold me tight. I’ll try hitting that post. If we don’t get dinner we may get a ride.”
I felt her take hold tightly and then I struck the post.
Which post? An instant later the posts were sailing by us in a blur. The ground beneath our feet seemed steady, but we were moving at a fast rate. Even in the service underground I had never seen a roadway as fast as this. Virginia’s dress was blowing so hard that it made snapping sounds like the snap of fingers. In no time at all we were in the cloud and out of it again.
A new world surrounded us. The clouds lay below and above. Here and there blue sky shone through. We were steady. The ancient engineers must have devised the walkway cleverly. We rode up, up, up without getting dizzy.
Another cloud.
Then things happened so fast that the telling of them takes longer than the event.
Something dark rushed at me from up ahead. A violent blow hit me in the chest. Only much later did I realize that this was Macht’s arm trying to grab me before we went over the edge. Then we went into another cloud. Before I could even speak to Virginia a second blow struck me. The pain was terrible. I had never felt anything like that in all my life. For some reason, Virginia had fallen over me and beyond me. She was pulling at my hands.
The Rediscovery of Man - The Complete Short Science Fiction of Cordwainer Smith - Illustrated Page 52