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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22597-h.zip b/22597-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7dbcc39 --- /dev/null +++ b/22597-h.zip 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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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: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + + + + + QUESTION + OF COMFORT + + By LES COLLINS + + + _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._ + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Two years were devoted to acclimatization, learning, and then swinging +this job: just to put the idea across. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +There was general agreement on broad outlines. Trouble began over Venus. + +"Of course," said one of the Minds, "we'll easily create a swampy +environment--" + +I burst out with quiet desperation: "May I comment?" + +The realists were churning. Right there, sides were being chosen. I let +all know my side immediately. + +"Venus is hot, but it's desert heat. Continuous dust storms with +fantastic winds--" + +"People'd never go for that junk," interrupted the Mind. "Everyone knows +Venus is swampy." + +"Everyone whose reading tastes matured no further than Edgar Rice +Burroughs!" + +The Mind, with a if-you-know-so-much-why-aintcha-rich look, sneered, +"How come you know all about it?" + +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." + +The Mind, face contorted, was determined to get me. I was in a very +vulnerable spot; more important, so was the idea. + +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. + +There was silence when he stopped. This was the crux; The Boss would +decide. I held my breath. + +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. + +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. + +However, he'd proved he was the one person I wasn't seeking. One down +and 2,499,999,999 to go. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Why not take people _through_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As soon as they assembled, I explained their job: find a way to give the +illusion of lessened gravity. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I looked up at someone's shout, in time to see a ton of cat rolling down +the embankment at me. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_that_ desperate. But I was; I had to keep the idea alive, for myself as +well as completion of the original mission. + +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. + +He stood tall but hunched over; gaunt, with pasty skin, vapid eyes, and +a kind of yellow-nondescript hair. + +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. + +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. + +A materials man wanted to know about weight. I told him where to go--for +the information. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Wanted to buy you a drink. This is the first time we've met socially." + +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. + + * * * * * + +The drinks came. I shook several little, bright-yellow pills from the +bottle, swallowed them, then drank. Frank cocked her head inquisitively. + +"If you must know, they're for my ulcer." + +"Didn't know you had one." + +"Don't, but I'll probably get one, any day." + +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. + +Resting a cheek on a wobbly palm-and-elbow, I said, "Has everyone ever +said you are the most beautiful--" + +"Yes, but in your present state, it isn't a good idea for you to add to +that number." + +I shifted to the other forearm. "Frank, things might be different if I +weren't a thin, sallow lecher." + +"What a nice compliment--" + +"Uh huh." + +"Especially since I work for you, nominally anyway--" + +"Uh huh, nominally." + + "Bosses should not make passes + At gals who work as lower classes." + +"Uh, huh, familiar." + +"But you are, and getting more so daily--" + +"Uh hu--are what?" I asked in surprise. + +"Thin, tired: the GG has decided you're working too hard." + +"Because I don't use Vano." I grinned, having waited long to put that +one across. + +"Be serious and listen--" + +"_You_ listen: if I'm working too hard, it's to finish. I _must_, and +soon." + +"This compulsion," she paced her words, "will kill you if you let it." + +"It'll kill me if I don't let it--" + +"Here comes Harry." + +It was time. Blearily, I fumbled with the pills, spilled the bottle. +Frank helped me gather them up, as Harry arrived. + +He said, a look of worry on his gaunt, gray features, "The rest of us +are waiting." + +Concerned, Frank asked, "Think you're able?" + +"Anytime you say," I answered, in a cold-sober monotone. + +She flushed, knowing I was sober, not knowing certainly if I were +serious. + + * * * * * + +When we were seated, I said enthusiastically, "Chateaubriand tonight, +gangsters." + +The GG did not react as expected. + +Dex, the electronics engineer, said quietly, "If it's steak when the +ground is broken, what'll it be when the thing is finished?" + +"A feast, for all the animals in the world--just like +Suleiman-bin-Daoud." This, from the GG writer, Mel. + +Their faces showed the same thing that bothered Frank. + +Harry said, "We have something to do." + +"Well, do it!" I tried weak joviality: "It can't be anything of +earth-shaking gravity." + +Hazel, long since accepted as a GG member, replied, "It's just that +we're ... resigned." + +"_What?_" + +"We've produced nothing in months of sustained effort. That's why we're +resigning," Dex replied disgustedly. + +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." + +"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--" + +Harry: "Clouded judgment." + +Mel: "Expensive prop." + +Having grown used to their friendly insults, I sensed their resolution +weakening, felt the pendulum swinging back. + +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. + +"Can't be in two places at once," I said bitterly. "Go ahead without me; +I'm leaving." + +"Wait a few minutes," Mel said, between bites of steak, "we want to +resign. Sit down." + +"Damn it, I can't! I spoke to The Boss. I've pulled a boo-boo, but big." + +"What happened?" + +"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?" + +"Sit down," Dex said casually, "we want to resign." + +Hazel added, "You can have your rocks in 24 hours. We worked it out +weeks ago. I _did_ read Van Es, and Harry has prospected, and Dex knows +minerals, and Mel pushed his way through Tyrrell's 'Principles of +Petrology'--" + +"The science of rocks," Mel interrupted, between bites of steak. + +"We got interested one day." Frank's pretty, dark eyes danced. + +"We want to resign," Dex repeated casually, "so sit down." + +I sat. + +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...." + +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. + +I said, "Fine, go ahead. About your resignations--" + +Mel said something indistinguishable--I'd caught him _on_ a bite of +steak. + +Hazel, belligerent, demanded: "Are you asking _us_ to resign?" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The sound of the outer door closing startled me. Footsteps approached; I +hurried to clean my desk, sweeping the bottle into the drawer. + +"You're up too late. Go home." Frank had a nonarguable look in her eye. +"You're supposed to be getting sleep." + +"I am, far more than before you guys began helping, but--" + +"But with all that extra sleep, you're looking worse." + +"I don't _need_ any more sleep!" I said angrily, then tried diversion, +"Been on a date?" + +"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. + +"What the devil are you up to?" + + * * * * * + +She pawed through the desk drawers. "Finding what you tried to hide--" + +"Wait, Frank!" I yelled, too late. + +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?" + +"No." Gruffly. + +Her eyes blinked rapidly, as though holding back tears. "I know what's +the matter with you; I _really_ know." + +"There's nothing the matter with me that--" + +"That beating this mess won't solve." We hadn't heard Mel enter. He +leaned casually against the door. "Terrific idea for a story." + +I shrugged. "Seems to be homecoming night." + +"Not quite," he glanced at his watch, "but wait another few minutes." + +He was right: Harry, out of breath, was the last of the GG to arrive. + +"Now what?" I asked. "Surely this meeting isn't an accident?" + +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." + +What could I do? That was the GG, characteristically, so we talked +temperatures. + +"What I was thinking," Harry began slowly, "was a sort of +superthermostat." Harry, as usual, came to the right starting point. + +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--" + +"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--" + +I asked: "Have you been _reading_ the stuff you write?" Funny enough for +3 A.M. + +Dex said calmly, "We _can_ 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--" + +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." + +They looked at me as though I were butting in. + +"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." + +Hazel asked, "Can't we use the heat, maybe to drive a compressor? The +sudden expansion of air could cool the rest. Harry?" + +Harry hadn't time to answer. + +"What'll this cost?" I snapped. + +"Roughly, 15 to 18 thousand," Dex replied. + +"_What?_" + +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 ..." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The power source provided cart headlights, and made batteries +unnecessary for the guide's walkie-talkie and the customers' helmet +receivers. + +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 _kishkas_ out of 'em!" + +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. + +And how did we intend--? + +Glass-- + +Too easily scratched. Lord, another one: how will the half-a-buck +customers be able to see inside? + +Glass and one of those silicon plastics? + +Better, but-- + +Harry beat it: glass, plastic, _and_ 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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +The phone rang. With the message, it _was_ ended. + +"Let's go, grouseketeers." + +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. + +No one moved; Frank verbalized it: "I'm scared." She sounded scared. + +"Better than being petrified, which I am," I answered. "But we might as +well face it." + +We dragged over to the TS building, an impressive structure. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The sun. Black sky holding a giant, blazing ball. Too damned yellow, but +filtered carbon arcs were the best we could do. + +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 _had_ to be right. + +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. + +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. + +Overhead, a diffused, intense yellow light. The sun--we were on the +daylight side. + +I sighed, relaxed, knowing this one had worked out. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _was_ a perfect conflict touch. + +We unsuited silently. Finally, Hazel breathed, "Hallelujah!" It was +summation of success. There now remained but one thing: wait for the +quarry to show. + +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. + +The one I sought was a member of the GG. + + * * * * * + +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. + +The following night, Mel ambled in at midnight. He grinned, discussed a +plot, suggested we go out for a beer, changed his mind, left. + +The third night, I waited in the dark. Nor was I disappointed: Dex and +Hazel showed. + +"What do you want? It's 2 A.M.!" + +There was a long regrouping pause; then Hazel said, "Dex has a fine +idea." + +"Well?" + +"I've been thinking about gravity--" + +"About time," I said sarcastically, disliking myself but hoping it would +get rid of them, "we opened three days ago." + +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--" + +"Why tell me?" + +"Thought you'd have some ideas." + +I shook my head. "That's what I hired _you_ for. My only idea right now +is going to sleep." + +Bewildered, they left. + +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. + +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. + +Death never spoke in such quiet, sweet tones. Frank asked, "What are you +doing here?" + +_Frank, Frank, not you!_ + +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?" + +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--" + +"We didn't have any damned date," I said flatly, hurting deep within. + +"All right, I want to know why you're still driving yourself. It isn't +work; that's finished." + +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. + +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!" + +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." + +I struggled with ambivalence. This might be a trick; if not, Frank now +hated me irreparably. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +In an ecstatic, semistuporous state, smelling strongly of sulfur +dioxide, he couldn't have been aware of me. Couldn't? + +"It took you long enough." He didn't bother to turn from the rock he was +huddled against. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"No trap. I had a job to do; it's done." + +"Job? Job?" Infuriated, leaping to his feet, he shouted, "Speak the +native tongue, filth!" + +"What's the use? Because of you, I'll never again have the chance. And +you no longer have a native tongue." + +"Who were those judges," he asked bitterly, "to declare _me_ an +outcast?" + +"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." + +He grinned. "So were you." + +"True. I tried to find the proper place, where you'd have some chance." + +He laughed openly. "I fixed the ship nicely." + +"You don't understand at all--" + +"I counted on your being a hero, trying to save us. So, I escaped." + +"For three years only." + +"What do you mean?" + +"One of us won't leave here." + +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." + +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." + +Voices suddenly approached. "The GG?" Harry questioned. + +"Didn't know they were coming." Desperately, I looked about, found an +eroded mass. "Hide there; I'll get rid of them." + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +Dex snapped his fingers. "_Knew_ it was Venus." + +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?" + +"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." + +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--" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +I said sardonically, "With you stealing parts of my supply, that's +probably the only truthful thing you've said!" + +"I've been in here three nights, adjusting my metabolism ..." + +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. + +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. + +He'd been right--he was a little stronger, and the relative difference +began to tell. Soon I was falling from his blows. + +Hands on my neck, he kneed me hard in the stomach. Violently ill, I felt +the sulfur dioxide rush from my lungs. + +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. + +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. + +A blinding flash inside my head--and the Last Darkness descended. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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." + +"No." My voice was weak, "Need it. Oxidizing agent for the sulfur." + +"Harry's dead," Hazel frowned. "When we came in, you'd broken his neck, +were crooning to yourself." + +So _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." + +"Dex and I got rid of the body," Mel said. "No need to worry unless ... +unless you've read my stories. Perhaps _you_ are the criminal. I'll be +watching." + +"No proof, of course ... Do _you_ believe I'm the criminal?" + +Mel smiled. "No, but I'll watch anyway." + +"More closely than tonight, I hope," Hazel said acidly. "If it hadn't +been for her...." + + * * * * * + +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." + +Dex asked, "When are you going back?" + +I shrugged. "Never. The ship is in the Gulf of California ... Harry did +that." + +"What about our company? We can research anti-gravity. You might reach +home yet." + +I shook my head. "Said I was a policeman. I don't know very much--" + +"Perfectly normal!" Mel said before Hazel shooshed him. + +Dex was insistent: "Any cop knows at least something about his +motorcycle. Was I right about the superconductor?" + +"Yes. Now, get out of here, idiots, before there's no one left to form +the company!" + +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!" + +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--" + +"And I did everything possible to get you out...." + +We were silent; then I said what I'd been fighting not to, for so long. +"Frank ... Francis?" + +She understood, and stared horrified at me. I'd lost. Bowed my head, +feeling like the damned fool I was. + +She looked around the room. "It's so strange!" + +"And with ingrained racial conditioning, you couldn't respond to a +thin, sallow alien." + +"I don't know," she said hesitantly. + +"I do!" Mel said. "The oldest story in science fiction; it's true; I +can't write it." + +"Why not?" + +"No editor in right or wrong mind would buy the beautiful Earth damsel, +after whom lusts the Monster from Venus--" + +Frank snapped: "He isn't a monster! And his manners are better than many +writers' I could name ..." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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? + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ 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. + + + + + +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.txt or 22597.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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