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diff --git a/22597-h/22597-h.htm b/22597-h/22597-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3aa462 --- /dev/null +++ b/22597-h/22597-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2235 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Question of Comfort, by Les Collins + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1 {text-align: left;} + + h2 {text-align: left; margin-bottom:2em;} + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + + .cpoem {float: right; width: 15em; margin: 0 auto; text-align: justify; + font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;} + cap {clear: both;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; + margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; + padding:0; + line-height: .8em; font-size: 3em;} + + .theend {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Question of Comfort, by Les Collins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Question of Comfort + +Author: Les Collins + +Release Date: September 14, 2007 [EBook #22597] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUESTION OF COMFORT *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="cpoem">The Gravity Gang was a group of +geniuses—devoting its brilliance to +creating a realistic Solar System +for Disneyland. That was the story, +anyway. No one would have believed +all that stuff about cops and robbers +from outer space.</div> + + +<h1><big>QUESTION<br /> +OF COMFORT</big></h1> + +<h2><small>By LES COLLINS</small></h2> + + + + + +<p class="cap">MY JOB, finished now, had +been getting them to Disneyland. +The problem was bringing +one in particular—one I had +to find. The timing was uncomfortably +close.</p> + +<p>I'd taken the last of the yellow +pills yesterday, tossing the +bottle away with a sort of indifferent +frustration. I won or lost +on the validity of my logic—and +whether I'd built a better +mousetrap.</p> + +<p>The pills had given me 24 +hours before the fatal weakness +took hold; nevertheless, I waited +as long as I could. That left me +less than an hour, now; strangely, +as I walked in the eerie darkness +of an early morning, virtually +deserted Disneyland, I felt +calm. And yet, my life depended +on the one I sought being inside +the Tour building.</p> + +<p>I was seeking a monster of +terrible potential, yet so innocuous +looking that he'd not stand +out. I couldn't produce him, +couldn't say where in the world +he was. Nevertheless he was the +basis, the motivation second +only to mine. I took the long, +hard way—three years—making +him come to me.</p> + +<p>Two years were devoted to acclimatization, +learning, and then +swinging this job: just to put +the idea across.</p> + +<p>Assigned to Disneyland Public +Relations in the offices at +Burbank, I'd begun with the +usual low-pay, low-level jobs. I +didn't, couldn't mind; at least +I had a foot in the right door. +Within six months, I reached a +point where I could present the +idea.</p> + +<p>It had enough merit. My boss—35 +years' experience enabled +him to recognize a good idea—took +it to his boss who took it to +The Boss.</p> + +<p>Tomorrowland is the orphan +division of Disneyland, thrown +in as sop to those interested +more in the future than the +past. My idea was to sex up Tomorrowland: +Tour the Solar +System.</p> + +<p>Not really, but we'd bill it +that way. The Tour of the Solar +System Building was to be +large. Its rooms would reproduce +environments of parts of the +System, as best we knew them.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I'll never forget the first +planning session when we realists +were underdogs, yet swung +the basic direction. By then, the +Hollywood Mind had appeared. +The Hollywood Mind is definitely +a real thing, a vicious thing, +a blank thing, that paternalistically +insists It knows what the +public wants.</p> + +<p>There was general agreement +on broad outlines. Trouble began +over Venus.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said one of the +Minds, "we'll easily create a +swampy environment—"</p> + +<p>I burst out with quiet desperation: +"May I comment?"</p> + +<p>The realists were churning. +Right there, sides were being +chosen. I let all know my side +immediately.</p> + +<p>"Venus is hot, but it's desert +heat. Continuous dust storms +with fantastic winds—"</p> + +<p>"People'd never go for that +junk," interrupted the Mind. +"Everyone knows Venus is +swampy."</p> + +<p>"Everyone whose reading +tastes matured no further than +Edgar Rice Burroughs!"</p> + +<p>The Mind, with a if-you-know-so-much-why-aintcha-rich +look, +sneered, "How come you know +all about it?"</p> + +<p>Speechless, I spread my +hands. This joker was leading +with his chin, forcing the fight. +I had to hit him again; if I lost, +I lost good. "A person," I said +slowly and rhythmically, "with +normal intelligence and a minute +interest in the universe, will +keep step with the major sciences, +at least on an elementary +level. I must stress the qualification +of normal intelligence."</p> + +<p>The Mind, face contorted, was +determined to get me. I was in a +very vulnerable spot; more important, +so was the idea.</p> + +<p>Mind began an emotional tirade, +and mentally I damned +him. It couldn't have mattered +to him what environment we +used, but he was politicking +where he shouldn't.</p> + +<p>There was silence when he +stopped. This was the crux; The +Boss would decide. I held my +breath.</p> + +<p>He said, "We'll make it hot +and dusty." The realists had +won; the rest climbed on the +bandwagon but quick; and the +temple was cleansed.</p> + +<p>It was natural—because at +the moment I was fair-haired—for +the project to become mine. +God knows, I worked hard for +it. I'd have to watch the Mind, +though; he would make things +as difficult as possible.</p> + +<p>However, he'd proved he was +the one person I wasn't seeking. +One down and 2,499,999,999 to +go.</p> + +<p>Within a few days, a new opposition +coalition formed, headed +by the Mind. Fortunately, +they helped. I'd hesitated on one +last point. Pushed. I gambled +the momentum of the initial enthusiasm +would carry it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Originally the plan was a +series of rooms, glassed off, that +people could stare into. There +was something much better; engineering +and I spent 36 hours +straight, figuring costs, juggling +space and equipment, until +the modification didn't look too +expensive—juggling is always +possible in technical proposals. +For the results, the cost was +worth it. I hand-carried the +proposal in.</p> + +<p>Why not take people <i>through</i> +the rooms? We could even design +a simulated, usable spacesuit. +There'd be airlock doors +between the rooms for effectiveness, +insulation, economy. No +children under ten allowed; no +adults over 50. They'd go +through in groups of 10 or 11.</p> + +<p>Sure, I realized this was the +most elaborate, most ambitious +concession ever planned. The +greatest ever attempted in its +line, it would cost—both us and +the public. But people will pay +for value. They'd go for a buck-and-a-half +or even two; the lines +of those filing past the windows, +at 50 cents a crack, would also +bring in the dough.</p> + +<p>They bought it. Not all—they +nixed my idea of creating exact +environmental conditions; and I +didn't insist, luck and Hollywood +being what they are.</p> + +<p>From the first, I established a +special group to work on one +problem. They were dubbed the +Gravity Gang, and immediately +after, the GG. I hired them for +the gravity of the situation, a +standard gag that, once uttered, +became as trite as the phrase. +The Tour's realism would be +affected by normal weight sensations.</p> + +<p>The team consisted of a female +set designer—who'd turn +any male head—from the Studio, +a garage mechanic with 30 +years' experience, an electronics +engineer, a science fiction writer, +and the prettiest competent +secretary available. I found +Hazel, discovering with delight +she'd had three years of anthropology +at UCLA.</p> + +<p>As soon as they assembled, I +explained their job: find a way +to give the illusion of lessened +gravity.</p> + +<p>Working conditions would be +the best possible—why I'd wanted +the women pretty—and their +time was their own. I found the +GG responded by working 10 +hours a day and thinking another +14. They were that sort.</p> + +<p>I couldn't know the GG was +foredoomed to failure by its +very collective nature; nor could +I know, by its nature, the GG +meant the difference between +my success and failure.</p> + +<p>The opposition put one over; +we'd started referring to the +job as Tour of the System Project. +Next day, it was going the +rounds as TS project. Words, +words, and men will always fight +with words.</p> + +<p>Actually, the initials were +worthy of the name. The engineering +problems mounted like +crazy. Words, words, and one of +them got to the outside world. +Or maybe it was the additional +construction crew we hired.</p> + +<p>One logical spot for the building +was next to the moon flight. +The Tour building now would be +bigger than first planned, so we +extended it southeasterly. This +meant changing the roadbed of +the Santa Fe & Disneyland R.R. +It put me up to my ears in plane +surveying—and gave me a nasty +shock.</p> + +<p>I looked up at someone's +shout, in time to see a ton of cat +rolling down the embankment at +me.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>What we were doing was +easy. Using a spiral to transition +gradually from tangent to +circular curve and from circular +curve to tangent. Easy? Yeah. +Sure.</p> + +<p>If this was my baby, I'd +damned well better know its +personality traits. I was out +with the surveyors, I was out +with the construction gang, I +was out at the wrong time.</p> + +<p>As the yellow beast, mindless +servant of man, thundered +down, I dove for the rocks. +Thank God for the rocks—we'd +had to import them: the soil in +Orange County is fine for +oranges, but too soft for train +roadbeds.</p> + +<p>Choking on the dust, I rolled +over. The cat perched, grinning +drunkenly, on the rocks. The opposition +or an accident? Surely +the Mind wasn't <i>that</i> desperate. +But I was; I had to keep the +idea alive, for myself as well as +completion of the original mission.</p> + +<p>Several million hands pulled +me out; several million more +patted away the dust. Motionless, +I'd just seen the driver of +the cat. Seen him—and was +sorry.</p> + +<p>He stood tall but hunched +over; gaunt, with pasty skin, +vapid eyes, and a kind of yellow-nondescript +hair.</p> + +<p>It wasn't the physical characteristics, +very similar to mine, +that bothered me—once after an +incomplete pass, I'd been told by +a young lady that I was a "thin, +sallow lecher." I was swept by +waves of impending trouble, +more frightened of him than of +the opposition in toto. Then, relieved, +I realized the man wasn't +the one I was expecting.</p> + +<p>Back in my office, I wasn't allowed +the luxury of nervous reaction. +Our spacesuit man wanted +an Ok on design changes. +Changes? What changes?... +Oh, yes, go ahead.</p> + +<p>A materials man wanted to +know about weight. I told him +where to go—for the information.</p> + +<p>A written progress report +from the GG briefly, sardonically, +said: "All the talk about increased +costs and lowered budget +has decided us to ask if any +aircraft, missile, or AEC groups +have come up with anti-gravity. +It'd be a lot simpler that way. +Love and kisses."</p> + +<p>I shrugged, wrote them a +memo to take a week off for +fishing, wenching, or reading +Van Es on the Pleistocene stratigraphy +of Java. I didn't care, +as long as they returned with a +fresh point of view.</p> + +<p>Things were hectic already, +less than four months after we'd +started. And we hadn't much to +show, except a shift in the roadbed +of the SF & D RR. The opposition, +growing stronger each +day, could sit back and rest the +case, with nothing more than a +smug, needling, I-told-you-so +look.</p> + +<p>The day finally came when we +broke ground for the building. +It was quite an achievement, +and I invited the GG to dinner. +I'd been drawn to the bunch of +screwballs—the only name possible—more +and more. Maybe +because they were my brain-child, +or maybe because lately +they were the only human company +in which I could relax.</p> + +<p>The Hotel is about a half-mile +south of Disneyland. I arrived +early, hoping to grab a ginger +ale. Our set designer, Frank—christened +Francis—caught me +at the door.</p> + +<p>"Wanted to buy you a drink. +This is the first time we've met +socially."</p> + +<p>That was true; it was equally +true something bothered her. +Damn it! Trapped, I'd have to +drink. We ordered, and I mulled +it over. Waited, but she said +nothing.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The drinks came. I shook several +little, bright-yellow pills +from the bottle, swallowed them, +then drank. Frank cocked her +head inquisitively.</p> + +<p>"If you must know, they're +for my ulcer."</p> + +<p>"Didn't know you had one."</p> + +<p>"Don't, but I'll probably get +one, any day."</p> + +<p>She laughed, and I drank +again. I should do my drinking +alone because I get boiled incredibly +fast. It happened now. One +second I was sober; the next, +drunk.</p> + +<p>Resting a cheek on a wobbly +palm-and-elbow, I said, "Has +everyone ever said you are the +most beautiful—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but in your present +state, it isn't a good idea for you +to add to that number."</p> + +<p>I shifted to the other forearm. +"Frank, things might be different +if I weren't a thin, sallow +lecher."</p> + +<p>"What a nice compliment—"</p> + +<p>"Uh huh."</p> + +<p>"Especially since I work for +you, nominally anyway—"</p> + +<p>"Uh huh, nominally."</p> + +<p>"Bosses should not make passes<br /> +At gals who work as lower classes."</p> + +<p>"Uh, huh, familiar."</p> + +<p>"But you are, and getting +more so daily—"</p> + +<p>"Uh hu—are what?" I asked +in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Thin, tired: the GG has decided +you're working too hard."</p> + +<p>"Because I don't use Vano." I +grinned, having waited long to +put that one across.</p> + +<p>"Be serious and listen—"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> listen: if I'm working +too hard, it's to finish. I <i>must</i>, +and soon."</p> + +<p>"This compulsion," she paced +her words, "will kill you if you +let it."</p> + +<p>"It'll kill me if I don't let +it—"</p> + +<p>"Here comes Harry."</p> + +<p>It was time. Blearily, I fumbled +with the pills, spilled the +bottle. Frank helped me gather +them up, as Harry arrived.</p> + +<p>He said, a look of worry on +his gaunt, gray features, "The +rest of us are waiting."</p> + +<p>Concerned, Frank asked, +"Think you're able?"</p> + +<p>"Anytime you say," I answered, +in a cold-sober monotone.</p> + +<p>She flushed, knowing I was +sober, not knowing certainly if +I were serious.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When we were seated, I said +enthusiastically, "Chateaubriand +tonight, gangsters."</p> + +<p>The GG did not react as expected.</p> + +<p>Dex, the electronics engineer, +said quietly, "If it's steak when +the ground is broken, what'll it +be when the thing is finished?"</p> + +<p>"A feast, for all the animals +in the world—just like Suleiman-bin-Daoud." +This, from the +GG writer, Mel.</p> + +<p>Their faces showed the same +thing that bothered Frank.</p> + +<p>Harry said, "We have something +to do."</p> + +<p>"Well, do it!" I tried weak +joviality: "It can't be anything +of earth-shaking gravity."</p> + +<p>Hazel, long since accepted as +a GG member, replied, "It's just +that we're ... resigned."</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>"</p> + +<p>"We've produced nothing in +months of sustained effort. +That's why we're resigning," +Dex replied disgustedly.</p> + +<p>Frank touched my arm, said +softly, "We've examined every +angle. With the money available, +it's just impossible to give a +sensation of changed weight. +And we know they've been pressuring +you about us being on +the payroll."</p> + +<p>"Wait"—desperately—"if you +pull out, everything will go. The +opposition needs only something +like this. Besides, the GG is the +one bit of insanity I can depend +on in a practical world, the prop +for my judgment—"</p> + +<p>Harry: "Clouded judgment."</p> + +<p>Mel: "Expensive prop."</p> + +<p>Having grown used to their +friendly insults, I sensed their +resolution weakening, felt the +pendulum swinging back.</p> + +<p>The waitress interrupted with +news of an urgent phone call. It +was the worst possible time for +me to leave. And the news I got +threw me. Feeling the weight of +the world, I returned.</p> + +<p>"Can't be in two places at +once," I said bitterly. "Go ahead +without me; I'm leaving."</p> + +<p>"Wait a few minutes," Mel +said, between bites of steak, "we +want to resign. Sit down."</p> + +<p>"Damn it, I can't! I spoke to +The Boss. I've pulled a boo-boo, +but big."</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"Bonestell will do the backgrounds, +but he has to know +what rocks we're putting in the +rooms. What rocks are we? +Anybody have an idea what the +surface of Mars looks like? God, +how could I have missed that?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down," Dex said casually, +"we want to resign."</p> + +<p>Hazel added, "You can have +your rocks in 24 hours. We +worked it out weeks ago. I <i>did</i> +read Van Es, and Harry has +prospected, and Dex knows minerals, +and Mel pushed his way +through Tyrrell's 'Principles of +Petrology'—"</p> + +<p>"The science of rocks," Mel +interrupted, between bites of +steak.</p> + +<p>"We got interested one day." +Frank's pretty, dark eyes +danced.</p> + +<p>"We want to resign," Dex repeated +casually, "so sit down."</p> + +<p>I sat.</p> + +<p>They began throwing the ball +faster than I could catch: "No +atmosphere on Mercury, then no +oxidation; I insist there'd be no +straight metals.... The asteroids? +Ferromagnesian blocks of +some kind—any basalts around +here?... For Venus, grab a +truckload of granodiorite—the +spotted stuff—from the Sierra-Nevadas +and tint it pink.... +Lateritic soils for Mars? You +crazy? Must have water and a +subtropical climate...."</p> + +<p>It hit me: a valid use for the +GG, one that already saved money. +Make them a brain team, +trouble-shooters, or problem-solvers +on questions that could +not be solved.</p> + +<p>I said, "Fine, go ahead. About +your resignations—"</p> + +<p>Mel said something indistinguishable—I'd +caught him <i>on</i> a +bite of steak.</p> + +<p>Hazel, belligerent, demanded: +"Are you asking <i>us</i> to resign?"</p> + +<p>Apparently I wasn't. So they +stuck, and another crisis was +met. Unfortunately, by then, I'd +forgotten the shock and warning +I got from the cat.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Things moved swiftly, more +easily. The GG took over, becoming, +in effect, my staff. +They'd become more: five different +extensions of me, each capable +of acting correctly. As a +team, they meshed beautifully.</p> + +<p>Too beautifully, at one point. +Dex and Hazel were seeing eye-to-eye, +even in the dark, and I +worried about the effect on the +others. I might as well have +worried about the effect of a +light bulb on the sun. They married +or some such, refused time +off, and the GG functioned, if +anything, better. It was almost +indecent the way the five got +along together.</p> + +<p>A new problem arose: temperature. +We weren't reproducing +actual temperatures, but the +rooms needed a marked change, +for reality's sake. I'd insisted +on that, and having won the +point, was stuck with it. It was +after 2 A.M.; I was alone in the +office.</p> + +<p>The sound of the outer door +closing startled me. Footsteps +approached; I hurried to clean +my desk, sweeping the bottle +into the drawer.</p> + +<p>"You're up too late. Go home." +Frank had a nonarguable look +in her eye. "You're supposed to +be getting sleep."</p> + +<p>"I am, far more than before +you guys began helping, but—"</p> + +<p>"But with all that extra sleep, +you're looking worse."</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>need</i> any more sleep!" +I said angrily, then tried diversion, +"Been on a date?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I thought I'd better +check on you." She moved close +to the desk, and I remembered +the last time we'd been alone, +in the bar. Now I was glad I +wasn't drunk.</p> + +<p>"What the devil are you up +to?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>She pawed through the desk +drawers. "Finding what you +tried to hide—"</p> + +<p>"Wait, Frank!" I yelled, too +late.</p> + +<p>She looked at the bottle, then +me, with a strange expression: +a little pity—not patronizing—but +mostly feminine understanding. +"Soda pop? Of course. You +don't like alcohol, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No." Gruffly.</p> + +<p>Her eyes blinked rapidly, as +though holding back tears. "I +know what's the matter with +you; I <i>really</i> know."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing the matter +with me that—"</p> + +<p>"That beating this mess won't +solve." We hadn't heard Mel +enter. He leaned casually +against the door. "Terrific idea +for a story."</p> + +<p>I shrugged. "Seems to be +homecoming night."</p> + +<p>"Not quite," he glanced at his +watch, "but wait another few +minutes."</p> + +<p>He was right: Harry, out of +breath, was the last of the GG +to arrive.</p> + +<p>"Now what?" I asked. "Surely +this meeting isn't an accident?"</p> + +<p>Dex said thoughtfully, "No, +not really, but it is in the sense +you mean. We didn't agree to +appear tonight. Yet logically, +it's time for the temperature +problem—well, I guess each of +us came down to help."</p> + +<p>What could I do? That was +the GG, characteristically, so we +talked temperatures.</p> + +<p>"What I was thinking," Harry +began slowly, "was a sort of +superthermostat." Harry, as +usual, came to the right starting +point.</p> + +<p>Frank smiled, "That's right, +especially considering layout. +Venus and Mercury are hot; the +others, cold. What about a control +console that'll light when +the rooms get outside normal +temperature range? Then the +operator—"</p> + +<p>"Hey! Why an operator?" +Mel questioned. "We ought to +make this automatic." He grinned. +"Giant computer ... can +see it now: the brain comes +alive, tries to destroy anyone +turning it off—"</p> + +<p>I asked: "Have you been +<i>reading</i> the stuff you write?" +Funny enough for 3 A.M.</p> + +<p>Dex said calmly, "We <i>can</i> +work this—in fact, we can tie it +in pink ribbons and forget it. +An electronics outfit in Pasadena +makes an automatic scanning +and logging system. Works off +punched-paper tape. We'll code +the right poop, and the system +will compare it with the actual +raw data. Feedback will be to a +master control servo that'll activate +the heater or cooler. Now, +we need the right pickup—"</p> + +<p>I snapped my fingers. "Variable +resistor bridge. Couple of +resistors equal at the right temperature. +There'll be a frequency +change with changing temperature—better +than a thermocouple, +I think."</p> + +<p>They looked at me as though +I were butting in.</p> + +<p>"You've been reading, too," +Dex accused. "Ok, we'll use a +temperature bulb. Trouble is, +with this system, we'd better +let it run continuously. That'll +drive costs up."</p> + +<p>Hazel asked, "Can't we use +the heat, maybe to drive a compressor? +The sudden expansion +of air could cool the rest. +Harry?"</p> + +<p>Harry hadn't time to answer.</p> + +<p>"What'll this cost?" I snapped.</p> + +<p>"Roughly, 15 to 18 thousand," +Dex replied.</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>"</p> + +<p>With fine impartiality, they +ignored me completely. Harry +continued, as though without +interruption, "Ye-es, I guess a +compressor-and-coolant system +could be arranged ..."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We broke up at 6 A.M. I took +one of my pills, frowning at the +bottle. Seemed to be emptying +fast. Sleepily, I shook the +thought off and faced the new +day—little knowing the opposition +had managed to skizzle us +again.</p> + +<p>The last displays were moons +of Jupiter and Saturn; it was +impossible to recreate tortured +conditions of the planets themselves. +Saturn's closest moon, +Mimas, was picked.</p> + +<p>Our grand finale: landing on +Mimas with Saturn rising spectacularly +out of the east. Mimas +is in the plane of the rings, so +they couldn't be obvious. We'd +show enough, however, to make +it damned impressive, and explain +it by libration of the +satellite.</p> + +<p>The mechanics of realistically +moving Saturn was rougher +than a cob. And that's where the +opposition fixed us. They claimed +there wasn't enough drama +in the tour. Let it end with a +flash of light, a roar, and a +meteor striking nearby.</p> + +<p>The roar came from us. +Mimas had no atmosphere—how +could the meteor sound off or +burn up? We finally compromised, +permitting the meteor to +hit.</p> + +<p>We'd decided early the customers +couldn't walk through. +Mel first, Harry, then Dex, together +produced an electric-powered, +open runabout. The +cart ran on treads in contact +with skillfully hidden tracks, +for the current channel. A futuristic +touch, that—we'd say +the cart ran on broadcast power.</p> + +<p>The power source provided +cart headlights, and made batteries +unnecessary for the +guide's walkie-talkie and the +customers' helmet receivers.</p> + +<p>Mimas' last section of track +was on a vibrating platform. +The cart tripped a switch; when +the meteor supposedly hit, the +platform would drop and rise +three inches, fast, twisting +while it did—"enough," Mel +said grimly, "to shake the damned +<i>kishkas</i> out of 'em!"</p> + +<p>We cracked that one, just in +time for another. It began with +Venus, as most of my problems +had. We planned constant dust +storms for Venus. Real quick, +there'd be nothing left of the +Bonestell's backgrounds but a +blank wall, from mechanical +erosion.</p> + +<p>And how did we intend—?</p> + +<p>Glass—</p> + +<p>Too easily scratched. Lord, +another one: how will the half-a-buck +customers be able to see +inside?</p> + +<p>Glass and one of those silicon +plastics?</p> + +<p>Better, but—</p> + +<p>Harry beat it: glass, plastic, +<i>and</i> a boundary layer of cold air, +jetted down from the ceiling, in +front of the background painting +and back of the look-in window. +I was glad, for lately, +Harry had begun to age. Thin +and gray, he showed the strain—as +did all of us.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We were sitting in an administration +office at the park. I +now recognized the symptoms; +when the GG had no real problems, +its collective mind usually +turned to my health. I wouldn't +admit it, but I felt a little peaked. +Little? Hell, bone-tired, dog-weary +pooped. Seemed every +motion was effort, but soon it +would end.</p> + +<p>The phone rang. With the +message, it <i>was</i> ended.</p> + +<p>"Let's go, grouseketeers."</p> + +<p>There was almost a pregnant +pause. Six months: conception +of the idea to delivery of finished +product; six months, working +together, fighting men, nature, +and the perversity of inanimate +objects—all of this now +was done.</p> + +<p>No one moved; Frank verbalized +it: "I'm scared." She +sounded scared.</p> + +<p>"Better than being petrified, +which I am," I answered. "But +we might as well face it."</p> + +<p>We dragged over to the TS +building, an impressive structure.</p> + +<p>The guide played it straight, +told us exactly how to suit up. +Then, in the cart, we edged into +the tunnel that was the first +lock, and—warned to set our filters—emerged +onto the blinding +surface of Mercury.</p> + +<p>We felt the heat momentarily—Mercury +and Venus were kept +at a constant 140 F, the others +at 0 F—but it was a deliberate +thrill. Then cool air from the +cart suit-connections began circulating.</p> + +<p>Bonestell was magnificent, as +always. Yellow landscape, spatter +cones, glittering streaks that +might be metal in the volcanic +ground—created by dusting +ground mica on wet glue to +catch the reflection of the sun. +It was a masterpiece.</p> + +<p>The sun. Black sky holding a +giant, blazing ball. Too damned +yellow, but filtered carbon arcs +were the best we could do.</p> + +<p>Down, into the tunnel that +was lock two. This next one ... +Venus, obvious opposition point +of attack, where we'd had the +most trouble: Venus <i>had</i> to be +right.</p> + +<p>It was! A blast of wind struck +us, and dust, swirling everywhere. +We'd discovered there's +no such thing as a sand storm—it's +really dust—so we'd taken +pains making things look right. +Sand dunes were carefully cemented +in place; dust rippling +over gave the proper illusion.</p> + +<p>Oddly shaped rocks, dimly +seen, strengthened the impression +of wind-abraded topography. +Rocks were reddish, overlain +by smears of bright yellow. +Lot of trouble placing all that +flowers of sulfur, but we postulated +a liquid sulfur-sulfur dioxide-carbon +dioxide cycle.</p> + +<p>Overhead, a diffused, intense +yellow light. The sun—we were +on the daylight side.</p> + +<p>I sighed, relaxed, knowing +this one had worked out.</p> + +<p>We gave the moon little time. +For those who had become +homesick, Earth was hanging +magnificently in the sky. At a +crater wall, we stopped, ostensibly +to let souvenir hunters pick +at small pieces of lunar rock +without leaving the cart.</p> + +<p>We'd argued hours on what +type to use, till Mel dragged out +his rock book. Most, automatically, +had wanted basalt. However, +the moon's density being +low, heavier rocks are probably +scarce—one good reason not to +expect radioactive ores there. +We finally settled for rhyolite +and obsidian.</p> + +<p>Stopping on the moon had another +purpose. We kept the room +temperature at 70 F, for heating +and cooling economy; the +transition from Venus to Mars +was much simpler if ambient +temperature dropped from 140 +to 70 and from 70 to 0, rather +than straight through the range.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Next, a Martian polar cap, +and we looked down a long canal +that disappeared on the horizon. +Water appeared to run uphill +for that effect. The whole scene +looked like an Arizona highway +at dusk—what it should have. +To our right, a suggestion of—damn +the opposition's eyes—culture: +a large stone whatzit. +It was a jarring note.</p> + +<p>We selected one of those nondescript +asteroids with just +enough diameter to show extreme +curvature. Frank had +done magnificently. I found myself +hanging onto the cart. +Headlights deliberately dimmed, +on the rocky surface, the cart +bumped wildly. The sky was +black, broken only by little, hard +chunks of light. No horizon. The +feeling of being ready to drop +was intense, possibly too much +so.</p> + +<p>Europa, then, in a valley of +ice. We'd picked Jupiter's third +moon because its frozen atmosphere +permitted some eerie +pseudo-ice sculpturing. As we +moved, Jupiter appeared between +breaks and peaks in the +sheer wall. Worked nicely, seeing +the monstrous planet distended +overhead, like a gaily +colored beach ball moving with +us, as the moon from a train +window. Unfortunately, the ice +forms detracted somewhat.</p> + +<p>Mimas, pitch black, then a +glow. Stark landscape quickly +becoming visible. Steep cliffs, +rocky plain. Saturn rising. The +rings, their shadow on the globe, +the beauty of it, made me sit +stunned, though I knew what to +expect.</p> + +<p>The guide warned us radar +spotted an approaching object, +probably a meteor. We ran, the +cart at maximum speed—not +much, really. It tore at you, +wanting to stare at Saturn, +wanting to duck.</p> + +<p>Hit the special section, dropped +and rose our three inches—one +hell of a distance—and the +tour was over. I kept thinking, +insanely, that the meteor <i>was</i> a +perfect conflict touch.</p> + +<p>We unsuited silently. Finally, +Hazel breathed, "Hallelujah!" It +was summation of success. There +now remained but one thing: +wait for the quarry to show.</p> + +<p>I estimated the necessary +time at four days and nights +after opening. It was hard to +wait, hard not to fidget under +the watchful—the only word—eyes +of the GG. They were up +to something, undoubtedly. But +there was something far more +important: I'd narrowed the +2,499,999,999 down to five.</p> + +<p>The one I sought was a member +of the GG.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Opening night brought Harry +and Frank to my office. They +tried to be casual, engaged me +in desultory nothings. Frank +looked reproachful—I was there +too late.</p> + +<p>The following night, Mel ambled +in at midnight. He grinned, +discussed a plot, suggested we +go out for a beer, changed his +mind, left.</p> + +<p>The third night, I waited in +the dark. Nor was I disappointed: +Dex and Hazel showed.</p> + +<p>"What do you want? It's 2 +A.M.!"</p> + +<p>There was a long regrouping +pause; then Hazel said, "Dex +has a fine idea."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking about +gravity—"</p> + +<p>"About time," I said sarcastically, +disliking myself but hoping +it would get rid of them, +"we opened three days ago."</p> + +<p>He ignored my petulance and +grinned. "No, I meant anti-gravity. +I think it's possible. If +you had a superconductor in an +inductance field—"</p> + +<p>"Why tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Thought you'd have some +ideas."</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "That's +what I hired <i>you</i> for. My only +idea right now is going to +sleep."</p> + +<p>Bewildered, they left.</p> + +<p>And on the fourth night, no +one came. So I headed for the +Tour. Now, having risked everything +on my logic, I was a dead +pigeon if wrong. There were +only minutes left.</p> + +<p>I eased through the back door, +heard our automation equipment +humming. Despite darkness, I +shortcutted, nearly reaching the +door to the service hallway in +back of the planetary rooms. +There was a distinct click, and a +flashlight blinded me. I waited, +stifling a cry, knowing if it +were he, death was next.</p> + +<p>Death never spoke in such +quiet, sweet tones. Frank asked, +"What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p><i>Frank, Frank, not you!</i></p> + +<p>Surprise shocked me: the +light, her voice, the sudden suspicion. +Still, diversion and counterattack ... +"Perhaps you've +the explaining to do," I said +nastily. "Why are you here?"</p> + +<p>Her wide-eyed ingenuousness +making me more suspicious, she +answered, "Waiting to see if +you'd appear." Then she stopped +being truthful: "You forget we +had a date—"</p> + +<p>"We didn't have any damned +date," I said flatly, hurting deep +within.</p> + +<p>"All right, I want to know +why you're still driving yourself. +It isn't work; that's finished."</p> + +<p>The way she talked made me +hopeful. Maybe she wasn't the +one ... and then came fear. +Frank, if he's here, you're in +danger. The monster respects +nothing we hold dear—law, +property, dignity, life.</p> + +<p>There was one way to find +out: make her leave. I wrenched +the flashlight from her, smashed +it on the concrete floor. "I mean +this: get the hell out of here, +and stay out!"</p> + +<p>She said, distastefully, "I've +seen it happen, but never this +fast. You've gone Hollywood, +you're a genius, you're tremendous—forgetting +other people +who helped. Go ahead with your +mysterious deal—and I hope we +never meet again."</p> + +<p>I struggled with ambivalence. +This might be a trick; if not, +Frank now hated me irreparably.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>No time to worry about human +emotions, not any more. +Nausea reminded me of the primary +purpose. I continued down +the dark hallway, listening for +Frank's return, hoping she +needn't die.</p> + +<p>Light was unnecessary: I +knew the right door. Because it +started here, it would end here. +Quickly, silently, I slipped inside +the Venus room. With peculiar +relief, I realized Frank wasn't +it: my nose led me right to the +monster.</p> + +<p>In an ecstatic, semistuporous +state, smelling strongly of sulfur +dioxide, he couldn't have +been aware of me. Couldn't?</p> + +<p>"It took you long enough." He +didn't bother to turn from the +rock he was huddled against.</p> + +<p>"I had to be sure." I felt anything +but the calm carried in my +voice. "No wonder the GG got +the right answers, with you +making initial starts. Say, were +you responsible for the cat that +rolled at me?"</p> + +<p>"An accident. Obviously, I +wanted this room built as much +as you." Harry, now undisguised, +languorously turned. +"Your little trap didn't quite +come off—a danger in fighting +a superior intellect."</p> + +<p>"No trap. I had a job to do; +it's done."</p> + +<p>"Job? Job?" Infuriated, leaping +to his feet, he shouted, +"Speak the native tongue, filth!"</p> + +<p>"What's the use? Because of +you, I'll never again have the +chance. And you no longer have +a native tongue."</p> + +<p>"Who were those judges," he +asked bitterly, "to declare <i>me</i> an +outcast?"</p> + +<p>"Representatives of an outraged +society." I almost lost my +temper, thinking of this deviant's +crimes. "You were lucky to +get banishment instead of +death."</p> + +<p>He grinned. "So were you."</p> + +<p>"True. I tried to find the +proper place, where you'd have +some chance."</p> + +<p>He laughed openly. "I fixed +the ship nicely."</p> + +<p>"You don't understand at +all—"</p> + +<p>"I counted on your being a +hero, trying to save us. So, I +escaped."</p> + +<p>"For three years only."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"One of us won't leave here."</p> + +<p>Harry frowned, then tried +cunning. "Aren't you being +silly? We are hopelessly marooned. +Surely there are overriding +considerations to your childish +devotion to duty."</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "This is too +small a room for us. Even if I +trusted you, I couldn't allow you +at this naive young world."</p> + +<p>Voices suddenly approached. +"The GG?" Harry questioned.</p> + +<p>"Didn't know they were coming." +Desperately, I looked +about, found an eroded mass. +"Hide there; I'll get rid of +them."</p> + +<p>"You'd better—we have business." +Possibly it was the only +time I've agreed with him. Mel +and Dex came in. I called, "Over +here!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dex snapped his fingers. +"<i>Knew</i> it was Venus."</p> + +<p>Mel wrinkled his nose. "Sulfur +dioxide, too, like we figured. +Soda pop, when I broke into +that tender scene between you +and Frank—that gave you necessary +carbon dioxide, right, am +I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes ... Why don't you guys +leave me alone?" Beginning to +falter in the heat, they dripped +perspiration. "You could die in +this chilly climate."</p> + +<p>Dex said, "Listen for a second. +We don't have to break up. +Let's form a service organization, +'Problems, Inc.' or some +equally stupid title. Very soon +we could afford a private bedroom, +like this, for you to stay +in all the time—"</p> + +<p>"Need only two or three +nights in ten." Harry was moving +restlessly. He wouldn't wait +much longer. "Combination of +oxygen, carbon dioxide, and +sulfur under relatively high +temperature is how I eat. Pills +can substitute, but not for protracted +periods. That's why I +had to build this room. Couple +of weeks, and I'll be in the pink; +as pink as you, anyway."</p> + +<p>Abruptly, I lay down, ignoring +them. I had to make my +friends go. Harry could literally +have shredded them. Footsteps: +the door closed; relief and loneliness +joined me, but only for a +moment.</p> + +<p>His voice sliced the darkness: +"I'm a man of honor, and must +warn you. If we fight, you'll +lose. I escaped with far more +pills than you; you're weaker."</p> + +<p>I said sardonically, "With you +stealing parts of my supply, +that's probably the only truthful +thing you've said!"</p> + +<p>"I've been in here three +nights, adjusting my metabolism ..."</p> + +<p>He came at me then, not +breaking his flow of speech. At +home, I'd have been surprised at +the dishonor. Instead, I was expecting +it. He ran into my balled +fist.</p> + +<p>If we'd been home ... if, if, +if, if, if. At full strength, I +could have broken his neck with +the blow. Now, he simply rolled +back and fell. Laughing, he attacked +again. We were weak as +babes, and fought like it. Clumsily, +slowly, we went through +the motions.</p> + +<p>He'd been right—he was a +little stronger, and the relative +difference began to tell. Soon I +was falling from his blows.</p> + +<p>Hands on my neck, he kneed +me hard in the stomach. Violently +ill, I felt the sulfur dioxide +rush from my lungs.</p> + +<p>I remembered one trick they'd +taught at school, and I used it. +Unable to break his hold, I managed +to get my hands around +his throat. We locked, each +silent.</p> + +<p>Silent until I felt my last reserves +going, until the crooning +of the Song of Eternity began. +This couldn't happen, not to this +planet. With all my strength, I +gave one last squeeze—but it +failed. From somewhere, light-years +of light-years away, I +heard Frank, realized I'd played +the fool: she'd been working for +the monster.</p> + +<p>A blinding flash inside my +head—and the Last Darkness +descended.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The light hadn't been inside +my head: it flooded the room. +Dimly, I was aware of the injection, +and immediately felt better. +Harry was gone.</p> + +<p>The GG, minus one, was gathered +around. Mel said, "It was a +dilute solution of cerium nitrate. +We figured the percentage on +the basis of the pill Frank +swiped. Hope you aren't poisoned."</p> + +<p>"No." My voice was weak, +"Need it. Oxidizing agent for +the sulfur."</p> + +<p>"Harry's dead," Hazel frowned. +"When we came in, you'd +broken his neck, were crooning +to yourself."</p> + +<p>So <i>I</i> had been crooning the +Song of Eternity? "I'm a"—I +felt silly—"a cop on a mission. +I waited until whichever of you +it was settled down here. That +one had to be the criminal, to be +done away with."</p> + +<p>"Dex and I got rid of the +body," Mel said. "No need to +worry unless ... unless you've +read my stories. Perhaps <i>you</i> +are the criminal. I'll be watching."</p> + +<p>"No proof, of course ... Do +<i>you</i> believe I'm the criminal?"</p> + +<p>Mel smiled. "No, but I'll +watch anyway."</p> + +<p>"More closely than tonight, I +hope," Hazel said acidly. "If it +hadn't been for her...."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I saw Frank, and was +ashamed of my suspicions. She +was silent, looking concerned. +They all did, and I was warmed. +Because, despite discomfort, +they worried about me, an alien, +a stranger. "Better leave. Heat's +getting you."</p> + +<p>Dex asked, "When are you +going back?"</p> + +<p>I shrugged. "Never. The ship +is in the Gulf of California ... +Harry did that."</p> + +<p>"What about our company? +We can research anti-gravity. +You might reach home yet."</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "Said I was +a policeman. I don't know very +much—"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly normal!" Mel said +before Hazel shooshed him.</p> + +<p>Dex was insistent: "Any cop +knows at least something about +his motorcycle. Was I right +about the superconductor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Now, get out of here, +idiots, before there's no one left +to form the company!"</p> + +<p>Hazel, perspiring freely, red +hair shimmering, kissed me. +"We figured you out real, real +early. We aren't ever wrong, +and I'm glad we stayed with +you, Mr. Venus." She laughed +joyously, "First time I've ever +kissed a Venusian!"</p> + +<p>Frank, head close to mine, +said softly, "I'm terribly sorry +I said those things, but you had +to believe I was angry, so I +could call the others—"</p> + +<p>"And I did everything possible +to get you out...."</p> + +<p>We were silent; then I said +what I'd been fighting not to, +for so long. "Frank ... Francis?"</p> + +<p>She understood, and stared +horrified at me. I'd lost. Bowed +my head, feeling like the damned +fool I was.</p> + +<p>She looked around the room. +"It's so strange!"</p> + +<p>"And with ingrained racial +conditioning, you couldn't respond +to a thin, sallow alien."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said +hesitantly.</p> + +<p>"I do!" Mel said. "The oldest +story in science fiction; it's +true; I can't write it."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"No editor in right or wrong +mind would buy the beautiful +Earth damsel, after whom lusts +the Monster from Venus—"</p> + +<p>Frank snapped: "He isn't a +monster! And his manners are +better than many writers' I +could name ..."</p> + +<p>Her voice trailed off with +awareness of Mel's tiny smile—a +smile that widened. He pulled +her toward the door. "What a +story! We'll hold the wedding in +a Turkish Bath."</p> + +<p>Alone, I sighed, comfortable +again after three years. I was +grateful to the GG, and would +do anything, within limits, for +them. Yet, my newly adopted +planet needed protection. Babes +in the woods, they'd be torn to +pieces outside.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, the GG didn't +know my meaning of "policeman", +my home's highest order +of intellect. I'd assure the group +finally getting anti-gravity and +use of planetary lines of force. +But not the hyperspace drive, +not for a good long while.</p> + +<p>I certainly couldn't destroy +the GG's confidence. I couldn't +hurt them. They were so sure +about me—so sure they were +never wrong. How could I explain +I'd been looking for a decent, +habitable planet like Venus +to discharge my captive, that I +was from another galaxy?</p> + + +<p class="theend">THE END</p> + + +<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> + +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Science Fiction Stories</i> March 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. +Minor spelling and typographical errors +have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Question of Comfort, by Les Collins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUESTION OF COMFORT *** + +***** This file should be named 22597-h.htm or 22597-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/5/9/22597/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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