THf MAC;AZIN." 0'

AUGUST

IV.I Y ST 0 RYIN TH IS 155 UE-N I W I

Two-Handed Engine (short novelet)hy HENRY KUTTNER Be" C. L. MOORE 3

The Last Prophet by MILDRED CLINGERMAN 2.4-Cause by STEPHEN ARR 3IOur First Death by GORDON R. DICKSON 43The Strange Children by ELISABETH SANXAY HOLDING 57:Chiip Me a Story by BOB OTTUM: 68Inside Straight (short novelet) hy POUL ANDERSON 72The Ape at the Typewriter (verse) hy PATRIC DICKBNSON 92-Recommended Reading (a department) hy THB BDITOR 93The Vanishing American by CHARLES BEAUMONT 96.The Tiddlywink Warriors (short no1!elet)

by POUL ANDERSON Be GORDON R. DICKSON 105Nellthu by ANTHONY BOUCHER 127

~\~Coming. 'attractions appell's on page 67

-COVER PAINTING BY BMSH

Joseph W. Ferman, PUBLISHER Anthony Boucher, EDITORThe MilgaUrre ofFantasy tmd &inlce Fietion, VoltnM 9, No.2, Whole No. 51, August, 1955. Publishedmonthly by FlJ1Itasy House, Inc., at 35t "copy. Annual Subscription, 14.00 in U. S. and Possessions; 15.00in all other countrin. Puhlieation office, ConcOf'd, N. H. General offices, 471 Park Avenue, New York 22.N. Y. EtliJoriaJ offia, 2643 Dana St., Ber~ley 4, Calif. Entered as seconJ class mailer III the Post Office '"UmcOf'd, N. H. under the Act of March 3, 1879. Prinud in U. S. A. Copyright, 195~, by FiI1Jlasy HOUM111&. All rights, including translation into other ltmgtUlges, reserved. SubmisSions must 1Je lIompanied by6III,!,,,d,m.f~ssedmllelopes;;he Publisher assumes no responsibilityfor mum ofunsolicited manuscripts.]. Fr~sMcConuu, ADVI~ORY BDITO.. ; Robert P.MiJJs, MANAGING EDITOR; George Sa/m, ARTDIIUlCTOB.;Howllrd K. PruA PBOucnON MANAGER; Cluzrks Angoff. ASSOCIATE BDITOR; G/oriQ LeviJIlS. ASSIST~

EDITOR; Ctmstan&e Di lOnuo. BDITOaLU. SECUTAB.Y

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Henry 'KJJttne.r ana his wife Catherine havl written llnaer sefJentlln knownpseudonyms, and Nndouhtealy a few more thllt have Sf) fllr e.reapea theresearches of scholars,, IIndunaer the h,st~known of these, stich as LewisPaagett and Lawrence 0'Donnell, they have createa IIfuit, undue propOrtionof the top science fiction of the past fifteen years. In recmt times they'VIahanaonea pseudonyms, even the treasurea Paagett hy-line, to writ' (alwaysin collahoration) under their own names; and they make their first non-pseudonymous appearance in F&SF with a novelet of future 'rime IIntijustice - lit once an exciting meloarama, II ',"i/ying nightmare anJa sort 0/ poetic-theological statement concerning man ana his soul.

Cf'wo-Handed enginehy HENRY KUTTNER AN.D C. L. MOORE

Ever since the days of Orestes there have been men with Furies following them.It wasn't until the Twenty...Second Century that mankind made itselfa set ofrealFuries, out ofsteel. Mankind had ,been through a lot by then. They had a goodreq,son for building man-shaped Furies that would dog the footsteps ofall menwho kill men. Nobody else. There was by then no other crime ofany importance.

It worked very simply. Without warning, a man who thought himself safewould suddenly hear the steady footfalls behind him. He would turn and see"the two...handCd engine walking toward him, shaped like a man ofsteel, and moreincorruptible than any man not made of steel could be. Only then would themurdered know he had been tried and. condemned by the omniscient electronic

minds that knew society as no human mind could ever k!zow it. .For the rest of his days, the man would hear those footsteps behfnd him. A

moving jail with invisible bars that shut him offfrom the world. Never in lifewould he be alone again. And one day - he neverkJzew when - thejailer wouldturn executioner.

Danner leaned back comfortablyin his' contoured restaurant chairand rolled expensive wine across histongue, closing his eyes to enjoy the

taste of it better. He felt perfectlysafe. Oh, perfectly protected. Fornearly an hour now he had beensitting here, ordering the most ex-

4pensive food, enjoying the musicbreathing softly through the air, themurmurous, well-bred hush of hisfellow diners. I t was a good place tobe. It was very good, having so muchmoney-now.

True, he had had to kill to get themoney. But no guilt troubled him.There is no guilt if you aren't foundout, and Danner had protection.Protection straight from the source,which was something new in theworld. Danner knew the conse-quences of killing. If Hartz hadn't.

sa~isfied him that he was perfectlysafe, Danner would never havepulled the trigger. . .. .

The memory of an archaic wordflickered through his mind briefly.Sin. It evoked nothing. Once it hadsometJ1ing to do with guilt, in anincomprehensible way. Not anymore. Mankind had been throughtoo much. Sin was meaninglessnow.

He dismissed the thought andtried the hearts-of-palm' salad. Hefound he didn't like it. Oh well, youhad to expect things like that. No~hing w~s perfect. He sipped the. wineagain, liking the way the glassseemed to vibrate like somethingfaintly alivein his hand. It was goodwine. He thought of ordering more,hut then he thought no, save it, nexttime. There was so much before him,waiting to be enjoyed. Any !isk wasworth it. And of course, in this therehad been no risk.

.Danner was a man born at thewrong time. He was old enough to

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

remember the last days of utopia,young enough to be trapped in thenew scarcity economy the machineshad clamped down on their makers.In his early youth he'd had access tofree luxuries, like everybody else. Hecould remember the old days whenhe was an adolescent and the last ofthe Escape Machines were stilloperating, the glamorous, bright,impossible, vicarious, visions thatdidn't really exist .and never couldhave. But then the scarcity econonlYswallowed up pleasure. Now you gotnecessities but no mor~. Now youhad to work. Danner ha ted everyminute of it.

When the swift change came, he'dbeen too young and. unskilled tocompete in the scramble. The richmen tooay were the men who hadbuilt fortunes on cornering the fewluxuries the machines still produced.All Danner had left were brightmemories and a dull, resentful feel-ing of having been cheated. All hewanted were the bright days back,and he didn't care how he gotthem.

Well, now he had them. Hetouched the rim of the wineglasswith his finger, feeling it sing si-lently against the touch. Blownglass? he wondered. He was too ig-norant of luxury items to .under-stand. But he'd learn. He had therest of his life to learn in, and behappy.

He looked up across the restaurantand saw through the transparentdome of the roof the melting towers

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of the city. They made a stone forestas far as he could see. And this wasonly one city. When he was tired ofit, there were .more. Across thecountry, across the planet the net-work lay that linked city with cityin a webwork like a vast, intricate,half-alive monster. Call it society.

He felt it tremble a little beneathhim.

He reached for the wineglass anddr(lnk quickly. This faint uneasinessthat seemed to shiver the founda-tions of the city was something new.It was because - yes, certainly itwas because of a new fear.

It was because he had not beenfound out.

That made no sense. Of coursethe city was complex. Of course itoperated on a basis of incorruptiblemachines. They, and only they,kept man from becoming veryquickly another extinct animal. Andof' these the analogue computers,the electronic calculators, were thegyroscope of all living. They madeand enforced the laws that werenecessary now to keep mankindalive. Danner didn't understandmuch of the vast changes that hadswept over society in his lifetime,but this much even he knew.

So perhaps it made sense that hefelt society shiver because he sathere luxurious on foam-rubber, .sip-ping wine, hearing soft music, andno Fury standing behind his chair toprove that the calculators were stillguardians for mankind. . .. .

If not even the Furies are incor-

5ruptible, what can a man believe in.?

It was at that exact moment thatthe Fury arrived.

Danner heard every sound sud-denly die out around him. His forkwas halfway to his lips, but he

. paused, frozen, and looked up acrossthe table and the restaurant towardthe door.

The Fury was taller than a man.It stood there for a moment, theafternoon sun striking a' blindingspot of brightness from its shoulder.It had no face, hut it seemed to scanthe restaurant leisurely, table bytable. Then it stepped in under thedoorframe and the sun-spot slidaway and it was like a tall manencased in steel, walking slowlybetween the tables. .

Danner said to himself, layingdown his untasted food, "Not forme. Everyone else here is wondering.I k?zow."

And like a memory in a drowningman's mind,' clear, sharp and con-densed into a moment, yet everydetail clear, he remembered whatHartz had told him. As a drop ofwater can pull into its reflection awide panorama condensed into atiny focus, so time seemed to focusdown to a pinpoint the half-hourDanner. and Hartz had spent to-gether, in Hartz's office with thewalls that could go transparent atthe push of a button.

He saw Hartz again, plump andblond, with the sad eyebrows. Aman who looked relaxed until hebegan to talk, and. then you felt the

6burning quality about him, the airof driven te'nsion that made eventhe air around him' seem to be rest-lessly trembling.. Danner stood be-fore Hartz's desk again in memory,feeling the floor hum faintly against.his sales with the heartbeat of thecomputers. You could see themthrough the glass, smooth~ shinythings with winking lights in bankslike candles burning in colored glasscups. You could hear their farawaychattering as they ingested facts,meditated them, and then spoke innumbers like cryptic oracles. It tookmen like Hartz to understand whatthe oracles meant.

"I have a job for you," Hartzsaid. C'I want a man killed."

"Oh no,". Danner said. "Whatkind of a fool do you think I am?"

"Now wait a minute. You can usemoney, can't you?"

"What for?" Danner asked bit-terly. '~A fancy funeral?"

"A life of luxury. I know you'renot a fool. I know damned wellyou wouldn't do what. I ask unlessyou got money and protection.That's what I can offer. Protection."

Danner looked through the trans-parent wall at the computers.

"Sure," he said."No, I mean it. I -" Hartz hesi-

tated, glancing around the room alittle uneasily, as if he hardly. trustedhis own precautions for making sureof privacy. "This is something new."he said. "I can re-direct any Fury Iwant to.". "Oh, sure," Da~ner said again.

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

"It's true. I'll show you. I can pull.a Fury 9ff any victim I choose."

"How?""That's my secret. Naturally. In

effect, though, I've found a way tofeed in false data, so the machinescome out with the wrong verdictbefore conviction, or the wrongorders after conviction."

/ "But that's-dangerous, isn't it?""Dangerous?" Hartz looked at

Danner under his sad eyebrows."Well, yes. I tltink so. That's why Idon't do it often. I've done it onlyonce, as a matter of fact. Theoreti-cally, I'd worked out the method.I tested it, just once. It worked. I'lld~ it again, to prove to you I'm tell-ing the truth. After that .I'tl do itonce again,. to protect you. Andthat will be it. I don't want to upsetthe calculators any more than I haveto. Once your job's done, I won'thave to.'"

"Who .do you want killed?"Involuntarily Hartz glanced up-

ward, toward the heights of thebuilding where the top-rank execu-tive offices were. HO'Reilly," hesaid.

Danner glanced upward too, as ifhe could- see through the floor andobserve the exalted shoe-soles ofO"Reilly, Controller of the Calcula--tors, pacing an expensive carpetoverhead.

"It's very simple," 'Hartz said.'~I want his job."

"Why not do your own killing,then, if you're so sure you can stopthe Furies?"

TWO-HANDED ENGINE

"Because that would give thewhole .thing away," Hartz said im-patiently. "Use your head. I've gotan obvious motive. It wouldn't takea calculator to figure out who profitsmost if O'Reilly dies. If I saved my"seJffrom a Fury, people would startwondering how I did it. But you'vegot no motive for killing O'Reilly.Nobody but ~he calculators wouldknow, and I'll take care of them."

"How do I know you can do it?""Simple. Watch."Hartz got up and" walked quickly

across the resilient, carpet that gavehis steps a falsely youthful ~unce.There was a waist-high counter onthe far side of the room, with aslanting glass screen on it. NervouslyHartz punched a button, and a mapofa section of the city sprang out inbold lines OD its surface.

"I've got to find a sector where aFury's in operation now," he' ex"plained. The map flickered and hepressed the button again. The un-stable outlines of the city streetswavered and brig~tened and thenwent out as he scanned the sectionsfast and nervously. Then a mapBashed on.which had three waveringstreaks of colored light crisscrossingit, intersecting at one point near thecenter. The point moved very slowlyacross the map, at just a~ut thespeed of a walking man reduced tominiature in scale with the street hewalked aD. Around him the coloredlines wheeled slowly, keeping theirfocus always steady on the singlepoint.

7"There," Hartz said, leaning for...

ward to read the printed name ofthe street. _A drop of sweat fell fromhis forehead onto the glass, and hewiped it uneasily away with hisfingertip .. "There's a man with aFury assigned to him. All right, now.I'll show you. Look here."

Above the .desk was a news-screen. Hartz clicked it on andwatched impatieritly while a streetscene .swam into focus. Crowds,traffic noises, people hurrying, peo-ple loitering. And in the middle ofthe crowd a Iittle oasis of isolation,an isiand in th~ sea of humanity.Upon that moving island two occu"pants dwelt, like a Crusoe and aFriday, alone. One. of the' .two wasa haggard man who watched theground as he walked. The otherislander in this deserted spot was atall, shining, man...fonned shape thatfollowed at his heels.

As if invisible walls surroundedthem, pressing back the. crowdsthey walked through, . the twomoved in an empty space thatclosed in behind them, opened upbefore them. Some of the passersbystared, some looked away in embar-rassment or uneasiness. Somewatched with a frank anticipation,wondering perhaps at. just what mo-mentthe Friday would lift his steelarm and strike the Crusoe dead.

"Watch, now," Hartz Said ner-vously. "Just a minute. I'm going topull the Fury off this man. Wait."He crossed to his desk, opened adrawer, bent secretively over it.

8Danner heard a series of clicks frominside, and then the brief chatter oftapped keys. "Now," Hartz said,closing the drawer. He moved theback of his hand across his forehead."Warm in here, .isn't it? Let's get acloser look. You'll see somethinghappen in a minute."

Back to the news-screen. Heflicked the focus switch and thestreet scene expanded, the man andhis pacing jailor swooped upwardinto close focus. The man's faceseemed to partake subtly of the im-passive quality of the robot's. Youwould have thought they had liveda long time together, and perhapsthey had. Time is a flexible element,infinitely long sometimes in a veryshort space.

"Wait until they get out of thecrowd," Hartz said. "This mustn'tbe conspicuous. There, he's turningnow." .

The man, seeming to move at ran-dom, wheeled at an alley corner andwent down the narrow, dark passageaway from the thoroughfare. Theeye of the news-screen followed himas closely as the robot.

"So you do have cameras thatcan do that," Danner said with in-terest. "I aiways thought so. How'sit done? Are they spotted at everycorner, or is it a beam trans-"

"Never mind,'" Hartz said."Trade secret. Just watch. We'llhave to wait until- no, nol Look,he's going to try it nowl"

The man glanced furtively behindhim. The robot was just turning the

PANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

corner in his wake. Hartz dartedback to his desk and p~lled thedrawer open. His hand poised overit, his eyes watched the screenanxiously. I t was curious how theman in the alley, though he couldhave no inkling that other eyeswatched, looked up and scanned thesky, gazing directly for a momentinto the attentive, hidden cameraand the eyes of Hart~ and Danner.They saw him take a sudden, deepbreath, and break into a run.

From Hartz's drawer sounded ametallic click. The robot, whichhad moved smoothly into a run themoment the man did, checked itselfawkwardly and ~emed to totter onits steel feet for an instant. It slowed.It stopped like an engine grinding toa halt. It stood motionless.

At the edge of the camera's range"you could see the man's face, lookingbackward, mouth open with shockas he saw; the impossible happen.The robot stood there in the alley,making indecisive motions as if thenew orders Hartz pumped into itsmechanisms were grating againstinbuilt orders in whatever receptorit had. Then it turned its steel backupon th~ man in the alley and wentsmoothly, almost sedately, awaydown the street, walking. as pre-cisely as if it were obeying validorders, not stripping the very gearsof society in its aberrant behavior.

You got one last .glimpse of th~man's face, looking strangelystricken, as if his last friend in theworld had left him.

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Hartz switched off the screen. Hewiped his forehead again. He wentto the glass wall and looked out anddown as if he were half afraid thecalculators might know what he haddone. Looking very small against thebackground of the metal giants, hesaid over his shoulder, "Well, Dan-ner?"

Was it well? There had been moretalk, of course, more persuasion, araising of the bribe. But Dannerknew his mind had been made upfrom that moment. A calculatedrisk, and worth it. Well worth it.Except-

In the deathly silence of the res-taurant all motion had stopped. TheFury walked calmly between thetables, threading its shining way,touching no one. Every faceblanched, turnec! toward it. Everymind thought, "Can it be for me?"Even the entirely.innocent thought,"This is the first mistake they've"ever made,.and it's corne for me. Thefirst nllstake, but there's no appealand I could never prove a thing."For while guilt had no meaning inthis world, punishment did havemeaning; and punishment could beblind, striking like the lightning.

Danner between set teeth" toldhimself over and over, "Not for me.I'm safe. I'm protected. It hasn't(O:TIe for me.H And yet he thoughthow strange it was, what a coinci-dence, wasn't it, that there shouldbe two. murderers here under thisexpensive glass roof today? Himself,

9and the one the Fury had come for.

He released his fork and heard itclink on the plate. He looked downat it, and the food, .and suddenly hismind rejected. everything aroundhim and went diving off on a fugi-tive tangent like an ostrich intosand. He thought about food. Howdid asparagus grow? What did rawfood look like? He had never seenany. Food came ready-cooked out ofrestaurant kitchens or automat slots.Potatoes, now. What did they looklike? A moist white mash? No, forsometimes they were oval slices, sothe thing itselfmust be oval. But notround. Sometimes you go_t them inlong strips, squared off at the ends.Something quite long and oval,then, chopped into even lengths.And white, of course. And they grewunderground, he was almos't sure.Long, thin roots twining white armsamong the pipes and conduits hehad seen laid bare when the streetswere under repair. How strange thathe should be eating something likethin, ineffectual human arms thatembraced the sewers of the city_ andwrithed palidly where the wormshad their being. And where he him-self,. when the Fury found him,might. .

He pushed the plate away.An indescribable rustling and

murmuring in the room lifted hiseyes for him as if he were an auto-maton. The Fury was halfway acrossthe room now, and it was almostfunny to see the relief upon thosewhom it had passed by. Two or.

10

three of the women had buried theirfaces in their hands, and one manhad slipped quietly from his chair ina dead faint as the Fury's passing re-leased their private dreads back intotheir hidden" wells. .

The thing was quite close now. Itlooked to be about seven feet tall,and its motion was very smooth,which was unexpected when youthought about it. Smoother thanhuman motions. Its feet fell with aheavy, measured tread upon thecarpet. Thud, thud, thud. Dannertried impersonally to calculate whatit weighed. You always heard' thatthey made no sound except. for thatterrible tread, but this one creakedvery slightly somewhere. It had nofeatures, but the human mindcouldn't help sketching in lightly asort of airy ~ce upon that blanksteel surface, with ey~s that seemedto search the room.

It was coming closer. Now alleyes were converging toward Dan..ner. And the Fury came straight 00.I t almost looked as if-

"Nol" Danner said to himself."Oh, no, this cao't bel" He felt likea man in a nightmare, on the vergeof waking. "Let me wake soon,"he thought. "Let me wake now, be-fore it gets herel" . .

But he did not wake. And now thething stood over him, and the'thudding footsteps stopped. Therewas the faintest P9SSible creaking asit towered over his table, motion..less, waiting, its featurdess faceturned toward his. i

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

Danner felt an intolerable tide ofheat surge up into his face - rage,shame, disbelief. His heart poundedso hard the room swam and a sud..den pain like jagged lightning shotthrough his head from temple totemple.

He was on his feet, shouting."No, no!" he yelled at the impas.-

sive steel. "You're wrongI You'vemade a mistakel Go away, youdamned fool! You're wrong, you'rewrong!" He groped on the tablewithout looking down, found hisplate and hurled it straight at thearmored chest before him. Chinashattered. -Spilled food smeared awhite and green and brown stainover the steel. Danner flounderedout of his chair, around the table,past the tall metal figure toward thedoor.

All he could think of now wasHartz.

Seas of faces' swa~ by him on bothsides as he stumbled out of the res-taurant. Some watched with avidcuriosity, their' eyes seeking his.Some did not look at all, but gazedat their piates rigidly or coveredtheir faces with their hands. Behindhim the measured tread came on,

. and the rhythmic faint creak fromsomewhere inside the armor.

The faces fell away on both sidesand he went through a door withoutany awareness of opening it. He wasin the street. Sweat bathed him andthe air struck icy" though it was nota cold day. He look~ blindly leftand right, and then plunged for a

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bank of phone booths half a blockaway, .the image of Hartz swimmingbefore his eyes so clearly he blun-dered into people" without seeingthem. Dimly he heard indignantvoices begin to speak and then die

into awe-struck silence. The waycleared magically befor~ him. He

w~lked in the newly created islandof his isolation up to the nearestbooth.

After he had closed the glass doorthe thunder of his own blood in hisears made the little sound-proofedbooth reverberate. Through thedoor he saw the robot stand passion-lessly waiting, the smear of spilledfood still streaking its chest like somerobotic ribbon of honor across a steelshirtfront.

Danner tried to dial a number.His fingers were like rubber. Hebreathed deep and hard, trying topull himself together. 'An irrelevantthought floated across the surface ofhis mind. I forgot to pay for mydinner. And then: A lot of good themoney will do me now. Oh, damnHartz, damn him, damn him I

He got the number.A girl's face flashed into sharp,

clear colors on the screen before him.Good, expensive screens in the pub...lic booths in this part of town, hismind noted impersonally.

"This is Controller Hartz's office.May I help you?"

Danner tried twice before hecould give his name. He wonderedif the girl c9uld see him, and behindhim, dimly through theglass;the.tall

II

waiting figure. He couldn't tell, be-cause she dropped her eyes immedi...ately to what must have been a liston the unseen table before her.

"I'm sorry. Mr. Hartz is out. Hewon't be back today."

The screen drained of light andcolor.

Danner folded back the door andstood. up. His knees were unsteady.The robot stood just far enoughback to clear the hinge of the door.For a moment they faced each other.Danner heard himself suddenly i~the midst of an uncontrollable gig-gling which even he realized vergedon hysteria. The robot with thesmear of food like a ribbon of honorlooked so ridiculous. Danner to hisdim surprise found that all this whilehe had been clutching the restaurantnapkin in his left hand.

"Stand back," he said to therobot. "Let m.e out. Oh, you fool,don't you know this is a mistake?"His voice quavered. The robotcreaked faintly and stepped back.

."It's bad enough to have youfollow me," Danner said. "At least,you might be clean. A dirty robotis too much - too much -" Thethought was idiotically unbearable,and he heard tears in his voice. Halflaughing, half weeping, he wiped thesteel chest clean and threw thenapkin to the floor.

And it was at that very instant,with the feel of the hard" chest stillvivid in his memorY7" that realizationfinally broke through the pro.tectivescreen of hysteria, and he remem'"

12

bered the truth. He would never inlife be alone again. Never while hedrew breath. And when he died, itwould be at these steel hands, per-

." haps upon this steel chest, with thepassionless face bent to his, the lastthing in life he would ever see. Nohuman companion, but the blacksteel skull of the Fury. '

It took him nearly a week to reachHartz. During the week, he changedhis mind about how long it mighttake a man followed by a Fury togo mad. The last thing he saw atnight was the streetlight shiningthrough the curtains of his expensivehotel suite upon the metal shoulderof his jail. All night long, wakingfrpm uneasy slumber, he could hearthe faint creaking of some inward

. mechanism functioning under thearmor. And each time he woke itwas-to the wonder whether he wouldever wake again. Would" the blowfall while he slept? And what kind ofblow? How did the Furies execute?Itwas always a faint relief to see thebleak light of early morning shineupon the watcher by his bed. Atleast he had lived through the night.But was this living? And was itworth the burden?"

He kept his hotel suite. Perhapsthe management would have likedhim to go, but nothing was said.Possibly they didn't dare. Life tookon a strange, transparent quality,like something seen through an in...visible wall. Outside of trying toreach Hartz, there was nothing Dan-

FANTASY AND SCIE~CE FICTION

ner wanted to do. The old desires forluxuries, entertainment, travel, had

~elted away. He wouldn't havetraveled alone. .

He did spend hours in the publiclibrary, reading all that was availableabout the Furies. It was here that hefirst encountered the two hauntingand frightening lines Milton wrotewhen the world was small and sim..pie, mystifying lines that made nocertain sense to anybody until man

crcilt~d a Fury out of steel, in hisown Image. .

But that two-handed engine at the. door

Stands ready to Sf!ltte once, and-smtte no more. ...

Danner gla~ced up at his own two"handed engine, motionless at hisshoulder, and thought of Milton andthe long. ago times when life wassimple and easy. He tried to pic"ture the past. The Twentieth Cen- .tury, when all civilizations togethercrashed over the brink in one majes-tic downfall to chaos. And the time-before that, when people were . . .different, somehow. But how? It wastoo far and too strange. He couldnot imagine" the time before themachines.

But he learned for the first timewhat had really happened, back

th~re in his early years, when thebright world finally blinked out en"tirely and gray drudgery ~ began.And the Furies were first forged inthe likeness of man. .

Before the really Big Wars began,technology advanced to the point

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where machines bred upon machi~es dIed. Men had been conditioned tolike living things, and there might accept vicarious surrogates and es"have been an "Eden on earth, with .capism w~s fatally easy. Men reori.;.everybody's wants fully" supplied, ented their emotions to the Escapeexcept that the social sciences fell Machines that fed them joyous,'too far behind the physical sciences. .. impossible adventure and made theWhen the decimating wars came on, waking world seem too dull to"machines and people fought side by bother with. And the birth rate fell .side, steel against steel and man and fell. It was a very strange period. ~against man, but man was the more Luxury and chaos went hand in'perishable. The wars ended when. hand, anarchy and inertia were thethere were no longer two societies same thi~g. And still the birth rateleft to fight against each other. 50- dropped....cieties splintered apart into smaller Eventually a few people recog"and smaller groups until a state very nized what was happening. Man as aclose to anarchy set in. . species was on the way out. And man

The machines licked their metal was helpless to do anything about it.wounds meanwhile and h~aled each But he had a powerful servant. Soother as they had been.built to do. the time came when some unsu~gThey had no need for the social genius saw what would have to besciences. They. went on calmly re- done. Someone saw the situationproducing themselves and handing clearly and set a new patt~rn in the

"out to' mankind the luxuries which . biggest of the surviving electronicthe age of Eden had designed them calcl:llators. This was the goal heto hand out. Imperfectly, of course. set: "Mankind must be made self-Incompletely, because some of their responsible again. You will makespecies were wiped out entirely and this your only goal until you achieveleft no machines to breed and re- that end.."produce their kind. But most of It was simple,. but the changes itthem mined their raw materials, produced were world-wide and allrefined them; poured and cast the human life on the planet altered"needed parts, made their own fuel, drastically because of it. The ma-repaired their own injuries and main.. chines were an integrated society, iftained their breed upon the face of man was not. And now they had athe earth with an efficiency man single set of orders which all of themnever even approached. reorganiz~d to obey.

Meanwhile mankind splintered So the days of the free luxuriesand splintered away. There were"no ended. The Escape Machines shutlonger any real groups, not even up shop. Men were forced back intofamilies. Men didn't need each ether groups for the sake ofsurvival. They"much. Emotional attachments clwin.. had' to undertake now the work the

14machines withheld, and slowly,slowly, common needs and commoninterests began to spawn the almostlost feeling of human unity again.

But it was so slow. And no ma-chine could put back into man whathe had lost - the internalized con-science. Individualism had reachedits ultimate stage and there hadbeen no deterrent to crime for along while. 'Without family or clanrelations, not even feud retaliationoccurred. Conscience failed, sinceno man identified with any other.

The real job of the machines nowwas to rebuild in man a realisticsuperego to save him from extinc-tion. A self-responsible society wouldbe a genuinely interdependent one,the lead~r identifying with thegroup, and a realistically internal-ized conscience which would forbidand punish "sin" - the sin of in-juring the group with which youidentify.

And here the Furies came in.The machines defined murder,

under any circumstances" as theonly human crime. This was accurateenough, since it is the only act whichcan irreplaceably destroy a unit ofsociety.

The Furies couldn't preventcrime. Punishment never cures thecriminal. But it can prevent othersfrom committing crime through sim-ple fear, when they see punis~entadministered to others. The Furieswere the symbol of punishment.They overtly stalked the streets onthe heels of their condemned vic-

PANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

tims, the outward and visible signthat murder is always punished, andpunished most publicly and terribly.They were very efficient. They werenever wrong. Or at least, in theorythey were never wrong, and con-sidering the enormous quantities ofinformation stored by now, in theanalogue computers, it seemed likelythat the justice of the machines was'far more efficient than that of hu-mans could be.

Someday man would rediscoversin. Without it he had come near toperishing entirely. With it, -he mightresume his authority over himselfand the' race of mechanized servantswho were helping him to restore hisspecies. 'But until that day, theFuries would have to stalk thestreets, man's conscience in, metalguise, imposed by the machines mancreated a long time ago.

What Danner did during thistime he scar~ely knew. He thoughta great deal of the old days when theEscape Machines still worked, be-fore the machines rationed luxuries.He thought of this sullenly and withresentment, for he could see no pointat all in the experiment mankindwas embarked on. He had' liked itbetter in the old days. And therewere no Furies then, either.

He d:rank a. good deal. Once heemptied his pockets into the hat ofa "legless beggar, because the manlike himself was se"t apart from so-ciety by something new and terrible.For Danner it was the Fury. For the

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beggar it was life itself. Thirty yearsago he would have lived or died un-heeded, tended only by machines.That a begger could survive at all,.by begging, must be a sign thatsociety was beginning to feel twingesof awakened fellow feeling with its.members, but to Danner that meantnothing. He wouldn't be around'long enough to know how the storycame out.

He wanted to talk to the .beggar,though the man tried to wheel him"self away on his little platform.

"Listen," Danner said urgently,following, searching his pockets. "Iwant to tell you. It doesn't feel theway you think it would. It feels -". He was quite drunk that night,and he followed the beggar until theman threw the money back at him

.and thrust himself away rapidly onhis wheeled platform, while Dannerleaned against a building and triedto believe in its solidity. But onlythe shadow of the Fury, falling acrosshim from the street-lamp, was real.

Later that .night, somewhere inthe dark, he attacked the Fury. Heseemed to remember finding a lengthof pipe somewhere, and he strucKshowers of sparks from the great,impervious shoulders above him.Then he ran, doubling and twistingup alleys, and in the end he hid in adark doorway, waiting, until. thesteady footsteps resounded throughthe night.

He fell asleep, exhausted.It was 'the next day that he

finally reached Hartz.

15"What went wrong?" Danner

asked. In the past week. he hadchanged a good deal. His face wastaking on, in its impassivity, an oddresemblance to the metal mask ofthe robot.

Hartz struck the desk-edge anervous blow, grimacing when hehurt his hand. The room seemed tobe vibrating not with the pulse ofthe machines below but with hisown tense energy~

"Something went wrong," he said."I don't know yet. I -" .

"You don't know!" Danner lostpart of his impassivity..

"Now wait." Hartz made sooth..ing motions with his hands. "Justhang on a little longer. It'll be allright. You can -"

UHow much longer have I got?"Danner asked. He looked over hisshoulder at the tall Fury standingbehind him, as if he were really ask-ing the question of it, not Hartz.There was a feeling, somehow, aboutthe way he said it that made youthink he must have asked that ques-tion many' tim:es, looking up intothe blank steel face, and would goon asking hopelessly until the an-swer came at last. But not inwords ...

"I can't. even find that out,"Hartz said. "Damn it, Da'nner, thiswas a risk. You knew that."

"You said you co'uld control thecompute~. I saw you do it. I want toknow why you didn't do what youpromised."

"Something went wrong, I tell

16

you. It should h~ve worked. The.minute this - business - came upI fed in the data that should haveprot~cted you."

"But what happened?"Hartz got up and began to pace

the resilient flooring. "I just don'tknow. We don't understand the po-tentiality of the machines, that's all.I thought I could do it. But -"

"You thoughtl"- "I know I can do it. I'm still try-

ing. I'm trying everything. After all,this is important to me, too. I'mworking as fast ~ I can. That's why.I couldn't see' you before. I'm cer.:tain I can do it, if I can work thisout my own way. Damn it, Danner,it's complex. And it's not like jug-gling a comptometer. Look at thosethings out there." '-

Danner didn't bother to look."You'd better do it," he said.

"That'saIl."Hartz said furiously, "Don't

threaten mel Let me alone and I'llwork it out. But don't threatenme."

"You're in this too," Danner said.Hartz went back to his desk and

sat down on the edge of it."How?" he asked."O'Reilly's dead. You paid me to

kill him."Hart~ shrugged. "The Fury

knows that," he said. "The com-puters know it. And it doesn't mat-ter a damn bit. Your h~d pulled~ the trigger, not mine."

"We're both guilty. If I suffer forit, you-': ..

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION'

. "Now wait a minute. Get thisstraight. I thought you knew it. It'sa basis of law enforcement, and. al-ways has been. Nobody's punishedfor intention. Only for actions. I'mno more responsible for O'Reilly'sdeath than the gun you used onhim:"

"But you lied to me! You trickedmer 1'11-"

"You'll do as I say, if you want tosave yourself. I didn't trick you, Ijust made a mistake. Give me timeand I'll retrieve it."

"How long?"This time both men looked at .the

Fury. It stood impassive."I don't know how long," Danner

answered his oy/n question. "Yousay you don't. Nobody even knowshow he'll kill me, when the timecomes. I've been reading everythingthat's available to the public aboutthis. Is it .true that the methodvaries, just ~o keep people like meon tenterhooks? And the time al-lowed - doesn't that vary too?"

"Yes, it's true. But there's a mini-mum time - I'm almost.sure. Youmust still be within it. Believe me,Danner, I can still call off the Fury.You saw me do it. You know itworked once. All I've got to findout is what went wrong this time.But the more you bOther me themore I'll be delayed. I'll get in touchwith you. Don't try to see meagain." .

Danner was on his feet. He took afew quick steps toward Hartz, fury

. and frustration breaking up the im-

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passive mask which despair had beenforming over his face. But the sol-emn footsteps of the Fury soundedbehind him. He stopped.

The two men looked at eachother.

"Give me time," Hartz said."Trust me, Danner."

In a way it was worse, havinghope. There must until now. have.been a kind of numbness of despairthat had kept him from feeling toomuch. But now there was a chancethat aft~r all he might escape intothe bright and new life he had riskedso much for - if Hartz could savehim in time.

Now, for a period, he began tosavor experience again. He boughtnew clothes. He traveled, thoughnever, of course, alone. He evensought human companionship againand found it - after a fashion. Butthe kind of people willing to asso-ciate with a man under this sort of

, deat~ sentence was not a very ap-pealing type.. He found, for instance,that some women felt strongly at-tracted to him, not because of him-self or his money, but for the ~keof his companion. They seemed en~thralled by the opportunity for aclose, safe brush with the very in-strument of destiny. Over his veryshoulder; sometimes, he would real-ize they watched the Fury in anecstasy of fascinated anticipation.In a strange reaction of jealousy, hedropped such people as soon as herecognized the first coldly flirtatious

17glance one of them cast at the robotbehind him.

He tried farther travel. He tookthe rocket to Mrica, and came backby way of the rain-forests of SouthAmerica, but neither the night clubsnor the exotic newness of strangeplaces seemed to touch him in anyway that mattered. The sunlight,looked much the same, reflectingfrom the curved steel surfaces of hisfollower, whether it shone over lion-'coloted sava~na~sor filt~red throughthe hanging gardens of the jungles.All novelty grew f dull quickly be-cause of the dreadfully familiar thingthat stood forever at Jtis shoulder.He could enjoy nothing at all.

And the, rhythmic beat of foot-falls behind him began to grow un-endurable. He used earplugs, butthe heavy vibration throbbedthrough his skull in a constantmeasure like an eternal headache.Even when the Fury s"tood still, hecould hear in his head the imaginarybeating of its steps.

.He bought weapons and tried todestroy the robot. Of course hefailed. And even if he succeedecl heknew another would be assigned tohim. Liquor and drugs were no good.Suicide came more and more ofteninto his mind, but he postponedthat thought, because Hartz hadsaid there was still hope.

In the end, he came back to theci~y to be near Hartz - and hope.Again he found himself spendingmost of his time in the library,walking no more than he had to be-

18

cause of the footsteps that thuddedbehind him. And it was here, onemorning, that he found the an-swer...".

He had gone through all availablefactual material about the Furies.He had gone through ~ the literaryreferences collated under that head-ing, astonished ~o find how manythere were and how apt some ofthem had become -like Milton'stwo-handed engine - after the lapseof all these centuries. "Those strongfeet that followed, followed after," heread. ". . . with .unhunying chase,And unperturbed pace, Deliberatespeed, majestic instancy. ..0." Heturned the page and saw himselfand his plight more literally thanany allegory:I shook the pillaring hoursAnd pulled my life upon me; grimed

with smears,1 stand amid the dust ofthe mounded

years-My mangled youth lies dead beneath

the neap..He let several tears of self-pity

fall upon the page that pictured himso clearly.

But then he passed on from liter...ary references to the library's storeof filmed plays, because some ofthem were cross-indexed under theheading he sought. He watchedOrestes hounded in modern dressfrom Argos to Athens with a singleseven-foot robot Fury at his heelsinstead of the three snake-hairedErinyes of legend. There had beenan outburst of plays on the theme

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

when the Furies first carne into- usage. Sunk in. a half-dream of hisown boyhood memories when theEscape Machines still operatedDanner lost himself in the action ofthe films.

He lost himself so completely thatwhen the familiar scene first flashedby him in the viewing booth hehardly questioned it. The whole ex-perience was part of a familiar boy-hood pattern and he was not at firs~surprised to find one scene morevividly familiar than the rest. Butthen memory rang a bell in his mindand he sat up .sharply and broughthis fist down with a bang on thestop-action button. He spun thefilm back and ran the scene overagain.

It showed a man walking with hisFury through city traffic,' the twoof them moving in a little desertisland of their own making, like" aCrusoe with a Friday at his heels.... It showed the man turn intoand alley, glance up at the cameraanxiously, take a deep breath andbreak into a sudden run. It showedthe Fury hesitate, make indecisivemotions and then turn and walkquietly and calmly away in the otherdirection, its feet ringing on thepavement hollowly....

Th\nner spun the film back againand ran the scene once "more, just

. to make doubly sure. He was shak-ing so hard he could scarcely manip..ulate the viewer.

"How do you like that?" he mut-tered to the Fury behind him in the

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dim booth. He had by now formeda habit of talking to the Fury a gooddeal, in a rapid, mumbling under-tone, not really aware he did it."What do you make of that, you?Seen it before, haven't you? Famil-iar, isn't it? Isn't itl Isn't itl Answerme, you damned dumb hulk!" Andreaching backward, he struck the"robot across the chest as he wouldhave struck Hartz if he could. Theblow made a hollow sound in thebooth, but'the robot made no otherresponse, though when Dannerlooked back inquiringly at it, hesaw the reflections of the over-familiar scene, running a third timeon the screen, running in tiny reflec-tion across the robot's chest andfaceless head, as if it too remem-bered.

So now he knew the answer. AndHartz had never possessed the powerhe claimed. Or if he did, had no in-tention of using it to help Danner.Why should he? His risk was overnow. No wonder Hartz had been sonervous, running that 'film-strip offon a news-screen in his office. Butthe anxiety sprang not from thedangerous thing he was tamperingwith, but from sheer strain in match-ing his activities to the action in theplay. How he must have rehearsedit, timing every movel And how hemust have laughed, afterward.

"How long have I got?'!, Dannerdemanded fiercely, striking a hollowreverberation from the robot's chest."How long? Answer mel Longenough?"

19

Release from hope was an ecstasy,now. He need not wait any longer.He need not try any more. All hehad to do was get to Hartz and getthere fast, before his own time ranout. He thought with revulsion ofall the days he 'had wasted already,in travel and time-killing, when. forall he knew his own last "minutesmight be draining away now. BeforeHartz's did.

"Come along," he said needlesslyto the Fury. "Hurry!"

It came, matching its speed to his,the enigmatic tImer inside it tickingthe moments away toward that in-stant when the two-handed enginewould .smite once, and smite nomore.

Hartz sat in the Controller's officebehind a brand-new desk, -lookingdown from the very top of thepyramid now over the banks ofcomputers that kept society runningand cracked the whip over mankind.He sighed with deep content.

The only thing was, he found him--self thinking a good deal about Dan-ner. Dreaming of him, even. Not'Yith guilt, because 'guilt impliesconscience, and the long schoolingin anarchic individualism was stilldeep'in the roots of every man's

,mind. But with uneasiness, perhaps."Thinking of Danner, he' leaned

back and unlocked a small drawerwhich he had transferred from hisold desk to the new. He slid his handin and let his fingers touch the con-trols lightly, idly. Quite idly.

20

Two mqvements, and he couldsave Danner's life. For, of course, hehad lied to Danner straight through.He could control the Furies veryeasily. He could save Danner, but hehad never intended to. There was noneed. And the thing was dangerous.You tamper once with a mechanismas complex as that which controlled.society, and there would be no tell-ing where the maladjustment mightend. Chain-reaction, maybe, throw-ing the whole organization out ofkilter. No. I

He might someday have to usethe device in the drawer. He hopednot. He pushed the drawer- shutquickly, and heard the soft click ofthe. lock.

He was Controller now. Guardian,in a sense, of the machines whichwere faithful in a way no mancould ever be. Quis custodiet, Hartzthought. The old proble~. And theanswer was: Nobody. Nobody, to-.day. He himself had no superiors andhis power was absolute. Because ofthis little mechanism in the drawer,nobody controlled the Controller.Not an internal conscience, and notan external one. Nothing couldtouch him. e.

Hearing the footsteps on the stairs,he thought for a moment he must bedreaming. He had sometimesdreamedthat he was Danner, with those re"lentless footfalls thudding after him.But he was awake now.

It was strange that he caught thealmost subsonic beat of t.he ap"ptoaching metal feet before he heard

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

the storming steps of Danner rush-ing up his private stairs. The wholething happened so fast that timeseemed to have no connection withit. First he heard the heavy; subsonicbeat, then the sudden tumult ofshouts ~nd banging doors down-stairs, and th~n last ofall the thump,thump of Danner charging up thestairs, his steps so perfectly matchedby the heavier thud of the robot'sthat the metal trampling drownedout the tramp of flesh and bone andleather.

Then Danner Bung the door openwith a crash, and the shouts andtramplings from below funneled up-ward into the quiet office like acyclone rushing toward the hearer.But a cyclone in a nightmare, be-cause it would never get any nearer.Time had stopped.

Time had stopped with Dannerin the doorway, his face .convulsed,both hands holding the revolver be-cause he shook so badly he couldnot brace it'with one.

Hartz acted without any morethought than a robot. He haddreamed of this moment too often,in one form or another.. If he could.have tampered with the Fury to theextent of hurrying Danner's death,he would have~one it. But he didn'tknow how. He could only wait itout, as anxiously as Danner himself,hoping against ~ope that the blowwould fall and the executioner strikebefore Danner guessed the truth.Or gave up hope.

So Hartz was ready when trouble

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came. He found his own gun in hishand without the least recollectionof having opened the drawer. Thetrouble was th~t time had stopped.He knew, in the back of his mind,that the Fury must stop Dannerfrom injuring anybody. But Dannerstood in the doorway alone, the re-volver in both shaking hands. Andfarther back, behind the knowledgeof the Fury's duty, Hartz's. mi~dheld the knowledge that the ma-chines could be stopped. The Furiescould fall. He dared not trust his lifeto their incorruptibility, because hehimself was the source of a cor-ruptipn that could stop them intheir tracks.

The gun was in his hand withouthis knowledge. The trigger pressedhis finger and the revolver kickedback against his palm, and the spurtof the explosion made the air hissbetween him and Danner.

He heard his bullet clang onmetal.

Time started again, runningdouble-pace to catch up. The Furyhad been no more than a single pacebehind Danner after all, because itssteel arm encircled him and its steelhand was deflecting Danner's gun.Danner had fired, yes, but not soonenough. Not before the Furyreached him. Hartz's bullet struckfirst. I

It struck Danner in the chest, ex-ploding through him, and rang uponthe steel chest of the Fury behindhim. Danner's face smoothed outinto a blankness as complete as the

21

blankness of the mask above hishead. He slumped backward, notfalling because of the robot's em-brace, but slowly slipping to thefloor between ~he Fury's arm andits .impervious metal body. His re-volver thumped softly to the carpet.Blood welled from his chest andback.

The robot stood there impassive,a streak of Danner~s blood slantingacross its"metal chest like a roboticribbon of honor.

The Fury and the Controller ofthe Furies stood staring at eachother. And the Fury could not, ofcourse, speak, but in Hartz's mindit seemed to.

"Self-defense is no excuse," theFury seemed to be saying. "Wenever punish intent, but we alwayspunish action. Any act of murder.Any act of murder...."

.Hartz barely had time to ~rop hisrevolver in his desk drawer beforethe first of the clamorous crowd fromdownstairs came bursting throughthe door. He barely had the presenceof mind to do it, either. He had notreally thought the thing throughthis far.

It was, on the surface, a clear caseof suicide. In a sl1ghtly unsteadyvoice he heard himself explaining.Everybody had seen the madmanrushing through the office, his Furyat his heels. This wouldn't be thefirst time a killer and his Fury hadtried to get at the Controller, beg..ging him to call off the jailer andforestall the executioner. What had

22happened, Ha~tz told his underlingscalmly enough, was that the Furyhad naturally stopped the man fromshooting Hartz. And the victim had

~hen turned his gun upon himself.Powder-burns on his clothing showedit. (The desk was very near thedoor.) Back-blast in the skin ofDanner's hands would show he hadreally fired a gun.

Suicide. It would satisfy any hu-man. But it would not satisfy thecomputers.

They carried the dead man out..They left Hartz and the Fury alone,still facing each other across thedesk. If anyone thought this wasstrange, nobody showed it.

Hartz himself didn't know if it.was strange or not. Nothing like.this had ever happened before. No-body had ever been fool enough tocommit murder in the very presenceof a Fury. Even the Controller didnot know exactly how the computersassessed evid~nce and fixed guilt.Should this Fury have been recalled,normally? If Danner's death werereally suicide; would Hartz standhere alone now?

.He knew the machines were al~ready processing' the evidence ofwhat had really happened here.What he couldn't be sure of waswhether this Fury had already re-ceived its orders and would followhim wherever he went from now onuntil the hour of his death. Orwhether it simply stood motionless,waiting recall.

Well, it didn't matter. This Fury

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

or . another was already, in thepresent moment, in the process ofreceiving instructions about ~im..There was only one thing to do.Thank God there was something hecoulddo.

So Hartz unlocked the desk drawer.and slid it open, touched the click-ing keys he had never expected to

. use. Very carefully he fed the codedinformation, digit by digit, into thecomputers. As he did, he looked outthrough the glass wall and imaginedhe could see down there in thehidden tapes the units of data fadinginto blankness and the new, falseinformation flashing into existence.

.He looked up at the robot. Hesmiled a little.

"Now you'll forget," he said."You and the computers. You cango now. I won't be seeing youagain."

Either the computers worked-incredibly fast - as of course theydid - or pure coincidence took.over, because in only a moment ortwo the Fury moved as if in responseto Hartz's dismissal. It had stoodquite motionless since Danner slid .through its arms. Now new orders.animated it, and briefly its motionwas almost jerky as it changed fromone set of instructions to another.It almost seemed to ~w, a stiff littlebending motion that brought itshead down to a level with Hartz's.

He saw his own face reflected int~e blank face of the Fury. Youcould very nearly read an ironicnote in that stiff bow, with the

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diplomat's ribbon of honor acrossthe chest of the creature, symbol ofduty .discharg~ honorably. Butthere was nothing honorable aboutthis withdrawal. The incorruptiblemetal was putting on corruption andlooking back at Hartz with thereflection of his own face.

He watched it stalk toward thedoor. He heard it go thuddingevenly down. the stairs. He couldfeel the thuds vibrate in the Boor,and there was a sudden sick dizzinessin him when he thought the wholefabric of society was shaking underhis feet.

The machines were corruptible.Mankind's survival still depended

on the computers, and the com-puters could not be trusted. Hartzlooked down and saw that his handswere shaking. He shut the drawerand heard the lock click softly. Hegazed at his hands. He felt theirshaking echoed in an inner shaking,a terrifying sense of the instabilityof the world.

A sudden, appalling lonelinessswept over him like a cold wind.He had never felt before so urgenta need for the companionship ofhis own kind. No one person, butpeople. Just people. The sense ofhuman beings all around him, a veryprimitive need.

He got his hat and coat and wentdownstairs rapidly, hands deep inhis pockets because of some innerchill no coat could guard against.

23Halfway down the stairs he stoppeddead still.

There were footsteps behind him.He dared not look back at first.

He knew those footsteps. But hehad two fears and he didn't knowwhich was worse. The fear that aFury was after him - and the fearthat it was not. There would be asort of insane relief if it really were,because then he could trust themachines after all, ana this terribleloneliness might pass over him andgo.

He took another downward step,not looking back. He heard theominous footfall behind him, echo-inghis own. He sighed pne deepsigh and looked back.

There was nothing on the stairs.He went on down after a timeless

pause, watching over his shoulder.He could hear the relentless feetthudding behind him, but no VIsibleFury followed. No visible Fury.

The Erinyes had struck inwardagain, and an invisible Fury of themind followed Hartz down thestairs.

It was as if sin had come anewin'to the world, and the first manfelt again the first inward guilt. Sothe computers had not failed, afterall.

Hartz went .slowly down the stepsand out into the str~t, still hearingas he would always hear the relent-less, incorruptible footsteps behindhim that no longer. rang like metal.

The most attractive t~ing ahout WldreJ Clingerman - as a writer, Iha.rtln to add, to avoid misinterpretation C" or, " as Elm,r DtWi.r once said,c,interpretation either, for that matter' ') - is that no two of her storiesare alike in th'me or in tone.; there is, thank God, no ClingertnlJn formula.This one is MJout a wealthy hore whose only distinction was thllt he knewthe forgotten cause of - hut Mrs. Clingef'11'Jan lets her story develop anareveal it.relf so easily that a lJ.lurh has no !Jusiness Iven stating the theme.

'The Laft Prophethy MILDREn CLINGERMAN

IT WAS SAiD OF REGGIE PFISTER. that he had an uncanny knack forappearing at the best and noisiestparties, wherever in the world they

"might be. To those scribes who re-ported the cavortings of interna-tional society, Reggie was as much afixture as the fat ex-king, though notnearly so colorful. Reggie, too, wasfat and rich; but nobody hung onhis words, nobody sCrambled to joinhis retinue. Reggie "didn't have anyretinue. Hostesses welcomed him" forthe reason that unattached, eligiblemales are always welcomed; butbecause of his well-known hobbyand his penchant for droning onabout it in a soft, flat monotone,people tended to avoid him when-ever possible.

At very large parties, however,there were always. a few who wereunaware of his reputation as anamiable bore. Across the room from

him, somebody would be struck byhis likeness to a jolly (but spiritual)monk; somebody else (usually fe-male) would recall acres of oil wellsall labeled Pfister; or occasionallysomebody's attention would becaught by the significant way Reg-gie glanced at his watch, then wrotein a worn little notebook. Thesewere the people who threaded theirway to his table." "

Reggie's face always glowed withdelight when this happened. Hop-ping up excitedly, Reggie pushedchairs about, signaled waiters, shookhands, and bounced on his toes tillhis guests, dizzied by his swooping,flight-like gestures, coll~psed intheir chairs gratefully. For the firstfew minutes Reggie was content tolet the others talk - not becauseReggie had finally learned to ap-proach potential listeners warily (hehadn't), but because he liked the

THE LAST PROPHET

feeling. that at any moment nowhe'd have the opportunity to presentthese smart, sophisticated peoplewith some real news!

When he decided the time hadcome, almost any casual remarkwas enough to set Reggie going.Somebody might say, "It's a dullparty," or, "Weren't you in Romelast week?"

Then Regg~e .would say: "That'~ avery interesting question. I'm gladyou brought that up.... " Andaway he'd gallop on his hobbyhorse!while his guests stared at him andnudged each other under the table."... I'm sure you've noticed it,"the flat voice would be hurryingnow. "Everybody has noticed it atone time or another, but nobodydoes anything about it - like theweather, hmmm? But I have. Donesomething about it, i mean. Forfifteen years I've kept records on it... right here in thi~ little oldnotebook. I've gone to the noisiestparties - trying to play fair, youknow. Must be scientific about thesethings, or a project's worthless.WortWess. As of this moment, I'verecorded 12,938 occasions it hashappened, all personally witnessed.No doubtfuls included, you under-stand. If there's so much as a giggle,say, from the terrace, I'm utterlyruthless with myself. I don't recordit,. though I am often tempted . .yes, yes, very tempted. My recordis four in one twenty-four hourperiod. I should so much like t9make it five. ."

25There waS always ohe at the table

who had failed to ~llow Reggie'stricky transition. In fact, in hiseagerness to plunge into hi~ subject,Reggie often forgo~ to lead into it atall. Asked what the hell he wastalking about, Reggie would laughand slap his thighs, and then takeout his handkerchief and blow hisnose. This seemed to have a soberingeffect on everybody. Reggie, lean-ing carefully over his untoucheddrink, would tap the table with apudgy forefinger, stare one by oneinto the glum faces around him, andask a question.

"Haven't you ever noticed thosedead-silent lulls that fall on groupsof people? At a party like this one,for instance. Sooner or latet thisvery .night there'll come those fewseconds when nobody is saying any-thing. When it happens, glance. atyour watch. You know what timeit will be? Twenty minutes after thehour." The pudgy finger lifted as ifto halt protests. Nobody offeredany. "Now mind you, some peoplewill tell. you that it. also occurs attwenty minutes to the hour. I'll behonest with you. Sometimes it does.But out of 12,938 recorded in-stances, that has only happened,in my experience, 119 measly times.That clearly indicates to me justone thing: human fallibility. Youdiscount human frailty, ordinarywear and tear, and the naturalblurring after. so long a time of thebuilt-in blueprint for the humanbrain, and I'll guarantee that, from

26the heginning, we were supposed tobe quiet at twenty minutes afterevery hour."

At this point, Reggie's listenerswould be drooping listlessly overempty glasses and staring out at thegaiety"around them with the sourfaces of casta~ays watching a shipdisappear over the horiwn. But thewaiters were heaving into view withdrinks. Reggie saw to that. Almostanybody with a fresh drink beforehim .will pause long enough to takea sip' or' two. Reggie COWlted on

thei~.. doing so. Because now he wasapproaching the great heart of thematter. It was imperative that thistime Reggie be allowed to finishwhat he had to say. But first he mustfill them in, he thought, on some ofthe background.

"I've tracked this thing all overthe world." (Reggie never variedhis background"opener.) UI spentyears hUQting out the wisest men inevery corner of the globe. To everyone of them I put the same question:Why? Why? Most of them justlaughed at me.... Now, I'm notblaming them. I can see how, justat first, my question might soundpretty unimportant to a busy man-:.. the world being in the shape it is,and all. Their mistake was, theydidn't ponder it long enough. Ifthey'd. bothered to think about ita while, they'd have seen as clearlyas I do that, given the answer towhat makes people fall silent attwenty minutes past the hour, we'dhave a lot of other answers to some

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

pretty deep questions. Like, whoare we? for instance, and is there aGod? Well. To make a long storyshort, I finally ran across a couple ofold magi, real wise men of the East,like in the Bible. They study thestars and charts and ancient oldtablets and books, you know. So Iasked them, and they didn't laugh.'Come back,' they 'said; 'in sevenyears and we'll try to answer yourquestion.' So back I went, sevenyears later - that was a couple ofyears ago - and I find just this'onefeeble old man still alive, but hehad the answer for me I

"Now I don't insist that you be"lieve it. The answer, I mean. -Youpeople can look on it as a theory, ifyou like. But I'll frankly admit thatI regard it as prophecy. That poorlittle old man". . . IAfter his partnerdied, he'd worked on alone. He had alot of dignity. The day before hedied he took my hand and told mehow lucky I was - said I was chosento publish the good news and alertmankind. That made me feel good.But you have no idea how difficultit -is I People don't seem to be inter..ested. Dh, they'll listen .politelyenough for a while, .but they neverwait to find out the answer...."

It was on the Riviera that Reggie'svoice halted just at this point-one of those evenings when he wasmost hopeful of reaching his hearers.For a moment the whole room wasquiet. Except for the wind thatcould be heard in the oleandersoutside, the hush was complete.

THE LAST PROPHET

But only for a few seconds. Evenwhile Reggie was consulting hiswatch, noise flowed back, with awoman's laughter bobbing atop thewave.

~'You seet" Reggie crowed."Twenty minutes after twelvel"But his guests were gone.

That kind of thing was alwayshapperiing to' Reggie. In Cairo orNew York, in Madrid or Washing..ton, D. C. - especially in Wash..ington, D. C. It was there that Reg..gie had the devastating experience'of barely opening his mouth whenseveral people said, "I'm, glad youbrought that up," and what withall of them talking politics very ,fastand loud, completely drowned outReggie's soft drone.

In HollywOod Reggie got only 'asfar as the two ~agi, when a pertstarlet i~sisted there should be threemagi, and where was Reggie from?

"Why, I'm from East Fairview,Pennsylvania," he admitted shyly.

Whereupon the 'starlet draggedhim off to a bedroom and drapedhim in a bedspread, proclaiminghim for the rest of the evening as thethird wise man from the East. Theother two, she said, were a helluvalot brighter. They'd already givenup and gone home.

In San Francisco Reggie pouredout his story to a fascinated audi..ence, up to t~e moment when hewas about to divulge the prophecy.But in San Francisco everybodyinsisted on the right to think (andprophesy) for himself, and it all

27ended in the hurling of some high..class VOC:;lbulary and fisticuffs. .

Reggie boarded a fast plane hometo East Fairview, having wired his.housekeeper to uncover the furni..ture in the drawing room and pre"pare for a b_ig party. He invited allhis relatives and in~laws, his oldschool chums, and the girls he'd left,behind him. It was a very niceparty. For the first time in his life,Reggie was able to record five dead"silent lulls; but even this triumphwas questionable, since he later dis..covered that none of his relativesever spoke to each other anyway.And as for relating the prophecy,Reggie hadn't a chance. He hadforgotteQ that a prophet is withouthonor under his own rooftree.

Back again in New York, Reggiefaced the fact that time was runnilljout. There's something about anunshared hotel room, he thought,that presents any fact in the dreari"est possible light.

Silently he addressed his image inthe bureau mirror: Here am I,~ alonely man, ~ith a story to tell. Ihave news; and nobody listens. I'mfat and funny-looking and my voiceis all wrong. Until fifteen years agoI led a perfectly useless existence.I'm not very smart; somebody elsehad to give me all the answers. I'veshared fOod with people, and drinks,and room-space, but I've nevershared a great experience. I'd lik~to share this. I'm the only manalive who knows .

Suddenly Reggie Pfister remem"

The psychiatrist's office was cool.and quiet, except for the murmuring-of the two nurses in the reception-ist's cubicle. Reggie was very earlyfor his appointment; he had beenanxious to escape the hotel room andthe bureau mirror. There was an-other patient waiting too, a youngwoman with the blank, unwritten-on face of a child. Reggie tried notto stare at her. He had the feelingthat it might be bad form to showundue interest in patients waitingin the outer fooms of psychiatrists.But the young woman troubled him.

..She was very pale, and she wastrembling. She turned the pages of. the magazine she' held with theexcessive quietness and caution of achild who has been scolded too oftenand too harsQly. Reggie, stealinglittle peeps at her over his ownmagazine, saw that she was crying.He had never before seen anybody

.weep in just that way. Two littleWlbroken streams of tears pouredsmoothly down her face and drippedonto her soft collar. She was scarcelymaking a sound.

Impulsively Reggie went to sitbeside her. He glanced at the re-ceptionist's cubicle. He and the girlwere out of the line of sight of thenurses. They would have had tolean out their little window to

watch the two patients; besides,they were now discussing hats. Nointerference there, Reggie thought,and he took the girl in his arms.

She fitted against him withoutr~sistance, pressing her head againsthis shoulder. After a while, whenher trembling had subsided, Reggiewiped her eyes and her nose andsmoothed back the fine, straighthair. He was rewarded with a small,tentative smile. .

"I'm so frightened," the girl whis-pered, leaning very close to Reggie'sear, ,as if she were telling an impor-tant secret.

"Tell me why," Reggie whisperedback.

"All the paths are dark," thegirl Said, "and I am afraid to turncorners."

"Yes," Reggie said."And whatelse?~' ..

"When I cry out in tbe night,nobody answers ... and ... andthere are beasts in the forest whodevour children, even very goodchildren. Not a bit like in stories ..Will you tell me a story?"

Reggie's eyes closed almost in-voluntarily, as if he wanted tocontain for the moment his fierce

joy~ He shifted his arm then anddrew her closer to him.

"Listen..' .." he said. "Onceupon a time - a very long time ago,

. when the world was young, a fathergathered his children around himand said, 'I must go away for a time.I have work to do far away - so farthat, though I shall travel ~ster

28bered that he was a rich man. Heremembered it in a spirit of humil-ity: If nobody would listen freely,then perhaps he could pay to beheard.

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

THE LAST PROPHET

than your good thoughts, yet will Inot have reached the realm whenyour children's children are old. Ido not like to leave my childrenfatherless, but I am needed else-where. I leave with you my bound-less love, and lest you grow wearywith longing for counsel, I bid yoube silent and listen at such times

.every day -' "Reggie paused and smiled down

at the girl's rapt face. -,"And then,"he continued, "the father set a kindof little clock humming in everychild's head, wit.h the times forlistening clearly marked, so none

. could forget. Then he said, 'When Ihave finished my work, I will comehome.' He kissed every child goodbyand asked them all to be good, andthen he went away."

"Did the old witch get them?"the girl asked in alarm.

"The old witch?" Reggie asked."You know. It's part of the

game.... The father says, 'I'mgoing downtown to smoke my pipe,and I won't be back till the broaddaylight. Don't let the old witchget you.' Then. the children aresupposed to say ,Tick:a-lock' sothey'll be s~fe behind the lockeddoor. But mostly they forget .thatpart," th~ girl mused. .

;Reggie nodded. "Yes, I expectthese children forgot it, too. By andby, they, or their descendants, for-got a number of things. They forgotthe trick of .listening in a certain,special way; so that, as the fathertraveled farther ~nd farther, and

29his voice grew smaller and smaller,finally they couldn't hear him at all.But the little clocks still kept hum-ming - every child ever after wasborn with one built-in - and everyday people still fell silent at the righttimes though "they no longer knewwhy." .

The girl stirred in his arms. "Andthen what happened?"

Reggie sighed. "The next parthasn't happened yet. In the mean-time the world grows darker anddarker without counsel, and you andI are afraid of the beasts in theforest. . . . But almost any daynow," Reggie's face brightened,"something very nice will happen..You really mustn't be afraid, be-cause -" Reggie struggled for theright words to phrase the prophecy,but f9und none. The girl wait~dquietly. In their cubicle, the twonurses were silent, too. Reggie staredat the clock on the wall. Twentyminutes after 3.

Suddenly, out of the silence, therewas a great n

3but was most a~are of the tendertones of love. Both the light andthe sound grew and grew till theymerged and became the" Voice:

MY DEAR, OBEDIENT CHILDREN, IAM COMING HOME.

There was a cessation of sound,and only the light remained. Then

. one of the nurses screamed, and thescream died away into a long, sob..bing wail. This very human ulula..tion brought Reggie's head upsharply. The old distress call of thepack found an, instant reponse inhis quickened heartbeat, and in theprickling down his backbone. Itbrought Reggie's head around. tostare downward through the windowbehind him, however briefly. Stillholding the girl, Reggie's arms werenow wooden and unaware. Hismouth was dry and h.e swallowedspasmodically to rid.it of the metallictaste of adrenaline

"Below him the pack squirmedand crawled like maggots seeking'an openmg into the dark, sweet-body of the earth. Reggie sawenacted with terrible clarity all. thatwas animal in humankind. Under a

Note:

"~ANTASY.AND SCIENCE FlcnON

rising accompaniment of wordlessbabble the monstrous pantomimeunrolled for him. Reggie was lostin it and part of it, tooth -and claw,till suddenly he caught sight of aman with his back to a wall, his

"arms and head raised defiantly, notagainst the howling mob, butagainst th.c skY. The puny, clenchedfists of the man were so sad and sowonderful that Reggie smiled....There was something in the gesturethat returned all Reggie's humanityto him. The pack moved on, butReggie turned and looked at thegirl. '

Bathed in the great light, herface showed no fear. When herserene eyes met his, Reggie wasable for a moment to meet her gazewithout faltering. Except that ...His eyes clDsed in shame for theniggling little shred of vanity anddisappointment he was wrestlingwith. If only I could have had an-other minute . .. he thought.

"You are troubled," she said."It's nothing really," Reggie

said. "It's just that I wanted to tellyou .something, bu~ time ran out."

If you enjoy THE MAGAZINE OF FANTASY AND SCIENCE FIC"TION, you will like some of the other MERCURY PUBLICATIONS:

ELLERY QUEEN'S MYSTERY MAGAZINEMERCURY MYSTERY BOOKSBESTSELLER MYSTERY BOOKSJONATHAN PRESS MYSTERY BOOKS

Stephen A" hils heen " B-24 nllviglltor, " CII"" diplomllt, " political,eporte" " mOMnt"in clim!Jer IlnJ Iln tHlvertising mlln --:- (J tJari,J blKk-ground thllt 11".1 write' might envy. There's CIIUS' for mvy, too, in th,"eatl.1 cogent "()titm b,hind this story of " blllCknuliler IlnJ " ""'thmulticiiJnwho sought to tllmp", with things III th,y ",e, "nd learn,d the inexorableconnection betwe,,, eflect ana cause.

Causehy STEPHEN ARR

terested in what they were saying tohave noticed the salt -shaker.

The Professor's glance, Georgenoted, was not that of a bewilderedman seeking confirmation of an un-.

.usual occurrence, but rather that ofa guilty man peering around to seeif he had been caught in. the act.

However, George made sure, by aquestioning raise of his eyebrows,that Professor Graves knew that hehad seen the whole incident. Then,with a feeling of suppressed excite-ment, George rose, and excusinghimself, w~nt up to his cabin towait for the Professor to approachhim with the inevitable explanation,true or not.

Back in his first class suite, Georgereviewed what he knew of ProfessorGraves. During the first dinnei._on'board, the Professor had let infor"mation d:l"op like a calling. card atthe beginning of the meal, as thougheager to get it over with. He was a

31

UNTIL GEORGE BRINK SAW THEsalt shaker mo~e obligingly by its~lfacross the dinner table into ProfessorGraves's waiting hand, he had de"cided that his table companions onthe S.S. Constitution, c;n route fromGenoa to New York, were a total'loss to a man of his profession, whichhappened to be the practice ofblackmail.

At the salt shaker's touch, Pro"fessor Graves glanced down startled,then his face turned white and hisbody froze. In a fraction of a secondhe recovered control of himself, andglanced quickly around the table tosee if anyone else had noticed. Theothers at the table, a young Englishcouple named Thomas on their wayto a Bermuda honeymoon, and, amother and grown-up-daughterteam named Small belonging' to aprosperous real' estate broker fromWestchester who had sent them toItaly for the summer, were too in..

32professor of mathematics at a wellknown midwestern university, andhe had just combined a vacation inEurope with an International Math-ematical Co~gress at Berne.

At that meal, George; after hav-ing studied the thin, eye-glassed,scholarly Mathematician with pro-fessional acumen; had reluctantlydecided that he was not the type tohave absconded with the Univer...sity's funds or to have left a mistressin his cabin.

Waiting for the Professor, GeorgeBrink.. glanced at the mirror in hiscabin and confirmed that he washandsome. "His hard blue eyes re-corded this asset more coldly than abusinessman in another line wouldrecord the receipt of a shipment ofsalt fish. He also remembered, with-out pleasure, that he was charming,suave, and sophisticated.

But at the moment, he had onegiaring .liability. He was sh~rt' ofthe kind of moriey required to makean impression in the circles in NewYork where he could hope to reapa large dividend. With the' warscare, it had been. a bad season atCannes..

He waited until late, but Pro-fessor Graves did not oblige, andGeorge finally went to sleep dis-illusioned.

Though George was q':lite irri-tated by this lack of cooperationwhen he woke up the next morni~g,he conceded regretfully that therewas nothing criminal about movingsalt ~ellars. All he could do about

PANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

Professor Graves, he decided, wasto wait for another slip that woulddeliver the frightened Professor intohis none too gentle hands. He wouldhave two meals a day for ten daysin which to study his surprisingtablemate. In the meantime, therewere other fish to be caught.

During the next three days Georgegot nowhere with the Professor andmanaged to land only one smallfish - a middle-aged Swiss bankerwho made nightly excursions downthe hall to the cabin of a youngchanteuse. There would be some'profit from his knowledge, Georgeknew, but not much since thebanker struck him as a hardheadedman wh~ knew exactly how muchboth his reputation and ~s wife'sopinion of him were worth in eitherSwiss francs or American dollars.

.His trip began to look like acomplete failure, when the breakcame "the sixth night at dinner, andfrom an entirely une~pected bit ofconversation. ..

"And cJid any of you get to MonteCarlo?" .Miss Small was asking ofthe table at large.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Thomas saidenthusiastically. "Aren't the cliffsmagnificent?"

"Er, yes," Miss Small agreedcrestfallen. "Actually we weren'tquite able to make Monte Carlo,but we did get to San Remo. Aren'tthe Casinos fascinating? I meanthose little balls on the spinningwheel, and the croupiers in tail~;and all those chips on the. table?"

CAUSE

"It is rather fun to take a chanceon the wheel," Howard Thomassaid.

"Oh, you. mean you've actuallybet'?' , Miss Small asked wide-eyed."Do you know how to win?"

"Not quite," Howard Thomasreplied with a laugh. "I was aheadfor a while, but I'm afraid I kept atit too long. The only person I'veever heard of winning consistentlywas able to control that little ball."

"How?" Professor Graves askedsuddenly, too sharply. Everyonelooked startled for a moment.

George quietly told the waiterto pour champagne all around.

'''Well,'' Thomas said a little em"barrassed, "I've only heard thisstory, but I believe he could controlthe ball by the force of his mind.,Do you think that that might bepossible, Professor?"

Professor Graves frowned. "I im-agine so, but I think it would beextremely difficult to put a smallball into a given hole on a movingwheel. That is, I doubt if you coulddo it even with your hand, becauseuntil the wheel s~ops you can'treally see the numbers."

"Yes, that's so," Thomas agreed."Gentlemen;" George said, "bot..

toms up."They all drained their glasses.

A little alcohol, George thought,could go a long way towards loosen..ing a man's tongue. Especially con'"cerning something that botheredhim.

"You mean. Professor," Miss

33Small asked wide-eyed, "that somepeople can move things with theirminds?"

"No," Professor Graves correctedwith a smile, "I only said that itmight be possib~e." He took an"other sip of his refilled glass. "Thereare other ways that it could bedone," he added reflectively, staringat the bubbles rising in his glass.

"How?" Mrs. Thomas asked."Magnets," the Professor replied

with a sudden laugh, then he changedthe subject abruptly. "This is anexcellent champagne, Mr. Brink.It reminds me a bit of Asti. Spu-mantee Did any of you ge~ to seeAsti?"

"Oh yes," George said quickly,beating Mrs. Small to the punch.

"Talking about controlling a rou-lette game," he continued, "I'mmore interested in a game of chariceand skill called poker. I wonder howit could be done with a ~deck ofcards. That is, even if you couldmove a given card at will, wouldn'teveryone else see it getting out ofthe pack and hopping around? Be..sides, wouldn't you have to knowthe card's location before you couldmove it? And in a shuffled deck,how would you find the card youwant?"

"It wouldn't be the best way todo it," Professor Graves agreed..

"But what would?" Mrs~ Smallasked interested.

"Why, just wishing on a star,"Howard Thomas answered with itlaugh. "You wish that you have

34fouf aces, the laws of Cause andeffect are set aside, and there youare with the winning hand."

"You can't set the laws of causeand effect aside," the Professor saidin a harsh voice.

George tensed. .Howard Thomas looked surprised,

then a little annoyed. "I don't seewhy not," 'he snapped. "I was onlyspeaking hypothetically, and hypo-thetically speaking you can do any-thing."

"But set aside' the laws of causeand effect," Professor Graves fin-ished with an 'air of finality. .

"You seem to know all about thesubject," Thomas sneered. "I sup"pose you've had great experiencein making matter conform to yourwishes."

"I have," Professor Graves de"clared angrily.'

Mrs. Thomas tried to interrupt."Mr. Brink," she said, "Would yousay that Spumante is as good aschampagne?"

George ignored her.Howard Thomas' eyes widened,

then searched around the table."All right. Let's see you break thatglass," he said, pointed to thechampagne glass. clutched tightlyin George's hand.

The Professor tensed for a mo"ment, then suddenly rubbed hiseyes wearily with his left hand.The hand was trembling. "No,"he said. "Forget it. I don't want to."

"You don't want. to," HowardThomas ~cked sceptically.

. FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION

"No, I don't want to," the Pro..fessor said sharply.

"Oh no," Thomas,said.Sudden fury flared in Professor

,Grave's eyes. George felt the gl3$sin his hand quiver, then suddenlyit was in pieces and champagne waswetting the sleeve of his jacket.Almost simultaneously he becameaware ofa' sharp sting in his shoulder,like the sudden jab of the needlein a penicillin injection. Even ashe stared daz~ly at the stem of theglass held in his fingers, he saw thatan advancing stain of red was mixingwith the champagne soaking hissleeve.

"My God, he shot the glass,"Howard Thomas whispered stupe-

.lied.Get>rge's confused eyes sought the

Professor. In front of him a tinyrevolver lay on the white tablecloth.Smoke still curled lazily from thebarrel.

Professor Graves picked up the re-volver. There was a strange twistedgrin on his face.' He examined itcuriously. "About a twenty caliber,Italian make," he said calmly, drop-ping it back on the table.

Miss Small suddenly screamed,"Mr. Brink is bleeding, get thedoctor."

Professor Graves looked up star"tled "and saw George's shoulder. Herose to his feet involuntarily. "Goodheavens," he said. "I'm sorry/'

"That's all right," George said,laughing humorlessly. "It's only asmall caliber flesh wound." His cold

CAUSE.

eyes bored into the Professor's trou-bled ones. There was somethinghere that he didn't understand,something that he would have tounravel, something that could m'eanmoney.

Two of the ship's officers hurriedtowards them.

The Pro,fessor picked the gun upslowly from the table and handedit to the Qfficers, handle first, thenhe turned and left with them justas the doctor, who had be~n atdinner, hurried up and started fuss-ing at George's shoulder. The ex-pression on the Professor's face ashe left eluded George for a moment,then he placed it. It was the ex-.pression that could be found on theface of a man on whom a practicaljoke had just been played, but whowas trying to be a good sport.

Later that evening, George wassecretly amused by the Captain'sobvious admiration and relief .at hisgenerous attitude.

,"It was' just an unfortunate acci-dent," George said, wincing a littleas he shrugged his wounded shoul-'der. ~'He was showing us a trick,and somehow or other it wentwrong. Naturally I have no inten-tion of pressing charges. But beforeI drop them formally, I would liketo have an opportunity to talk withProfessor Graves."

"You are being awfully generousabout this," the Captain, a littleworried man weighted down bygold braid, repeated for the tenthtime. "All the witnesses agree that

35some sort of trick was in progress.And of course there is no. othermotive. 'The gun is properly regis-tered and the Professor has all thenecessary permits. So if you arereally convinced that it was acci-dental, after speaking with the Pro-fessor, I see no reason to hold himany longer."

The Captain rang for a stewardand directed him to lead .Georgeto the stateroom where ProfessorGraves was being held.

"You're really being very sport-ing about this," the little Captainsaid again. as he shook hands withGeorge.

On the way down in the elevator,George could scarcely control hiselation. ,He had the Profe5S9r. Hehad him pinned up against the wall,and he would squeeze him dry

. before he would let him go.There was a single guard outside

of the stateroom, who rose sullenly,,unlocked the door, and let Georgein. The steward remained outside.

The Professor was seated on thebed, his head in his hands. He lookedup as George entered. George"notedthat his thin face looked thinner,and there, were circles under hiseyes, brooding, troubled eyes. Hestood up suddenly. J

"I'm sorry,"