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diff --git a/22623-h/22623-h.htm b/22623-h/22623-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..42ca2b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/22623-h/22623-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1827 @@ +<!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 Divinity, by William Morrison + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1,h2 {text-align: center; + clear: both;} + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + + .cpoem {width: 20em; margin: 2em auto; font-size: larger; font-weight: bold;text-align: justify;} + + .illo {margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-top: 1.5em; text-align: center;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Divinity, by William Morrison + +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: Divinity + +Author: William Morrison + +Illustrator: Freas + +Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22623] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIVINITY *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1><big>DIVINITY</big></h1> + +<h2>BY WILLIAM MORRISON</h2> + +<p class="illo">ILLUSTRATED BY FREAS</p> + + +<div class="cpoem">Bradley had one fear in his life. He had to escape +regeneration. To do that, he was willing to take +any chance, coward though he was—even if it meant +that he had to become a god!</div> + + +<p>Bradley seemed to have +escaped regeneration. Now he +had only death to worry about.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes before, he had +been tumbling through the air +head over heels, helpless and despairing. +And before that—</p> + +<p>He remembered how his heart +had been in his mouth as he had +crept down the corridor of the +speeding ship. He could hear +Malevski's voice coming faintly +through one of the walls, and +had been tempted to run back, +fearful of being shot down on +the spot if he were caught. He +had fought back the temptation +and kept on. No one had seen him +as he crept into the lifeboat.</p> + +<p>"This is your one chance," he +told himself. "You have to take +it. If they get you back to port, +you're finished."</p> + +<p>Luck had been with him. They +were broadcasting the results of +the Mars-Earth matches at the +time, and most of the crew were +grouped around the visors. He +had picked the moment when +news came of a sensational upset, +and for a minute or two +after the lifeboat blasted off, no +one realized what had happened. +When the truth did penetrate, +they had a hard time swinging +the ship around, and by then the +lifeboat was out of radar range. +He was free.</p> + +<p>He had exulted wildly for a +moment, until it struck him that +freedom in space might be a +doubtful gift. He would have to +get to some civilized port, convince +the port authorities that +he had been shipwrecked and +somehow separated from the +other crew members, and then +lose himself quickly in the crowd +of people that he hoped would +fill the place. There would be +risks, but he would take them. It +would be better than running +out of air and food in space.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 367px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="367" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>It had been the best possible +plan, and it had gone wrong, all +wrong. He had been caught, before +he knew it, in the gravity of +a planet he had overlooked. The +lifeboat had torn apart under the +combined stresses of its forward +momentum and its side +rockets blasting full force, and +he had been hurled free in his +space suit, falling slowly at first, +then faster, faster, faster—</p> + +<p>The automatic parachutes +had suddenly sprung into operation +when he reached a critical +speed, and he had slowed down +and stopped tumbling. He fell +more gently, feet first, and when +he landed it was with a shock +that jarred but did no real damage.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Slowly he picked himself up +and fumbled at the air valve. +Something in the intake tubes +had jammed under the shock of +landing, and the air was no +longer circulating properly. +Filled with the moisture of his +own breath, it felt hot and clammy, +and clouded the viewplates.</p> + +<p>If he had kept all his wits +about him he would have tried to +remember, before he took a +chance, whether the planet had +an oxygen atmosphere, and +whether the oxygen was of sufficient +concentration to support +human life. Not that he had any +real choice, but it would have +been good to know. As it was, he +turned the air valve automatically, +and listened nervously as +the stale air hissed out and the +fresh air hissed in.</p> + +<p>He took a deep breath. It didn't +kill him. Instead, it sent his +blood racing around with new +energy. Slowly the moisture +evaporated from his viewplates. +Slowly he began to see.</p> + +<p>He perceived that he was not +alone. A group of people stood +in front of him, respectful, their +own eyes full of fear and wonder. +Some one uttered a hoarse +cry and pointed at his helmet. +The unclouding of the viewplates +must have stricken them +with awe.</p> + +<p>The air was wonderful to +breathe. He would have liked to +remove his helmet and fill his +lungs with it unhampered, expose +his face to its soft caress, +expand his chest with the constriction +of the suit. But these +people—</p> + +<p>They must have seen him tumble +down from the sky and land +unhurt. They carried food and +flowers, and now they were +kneeling down to him as to a—Suddenly +he realized. To them +he was a god.</p> + +<p>The thought of it made him +weak. To Malevski and the ship's +crew he was a criminal, a cheap +chiseler and pickpocket, almost +a murderer, escaping credit for +<i>that</i> crime only by grace of his +own good luck and his victim's +thick skull. They had felt such +contempt for him that they hadn't +even bothered to guard him +too carefully. They had thought +him a complete coward, without +the courage to risk an escape, +without the intelligence to find +the opportunities that might be +offered to him.</p> + +<p>They hadn't realized how terrified +he was of the thing with +which they threatened him. Regeneration, +the giving up of his +old identity? Not for him. They +hadn't realized that he preferred +the risks of a dangerous escape +to the certainty of <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p>And here he was a god.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He lifted his hand without +thinking, to wipe away the perspiration +that covered his forehead. +But before the hand +touched his helmet he realized +what he was doing, and let the +hand drop again.</p> + +<p>To the people watching him +the gesture must have seemed +one of double significance. It +was at once a sign of acceptance +of their food and flowers, and +their offer of good-will, and at +the same time an order to withdraw. +They bowed, and moved +backwards away from him. Behind +him they left their gifts.</p> + +<p>They seemed human, human +enough for the features on the +men's faces to impress him as +strong and resourceful, for him +to recognize that the women +were attractive. And if they +were human, the food must be +fit for human beings. Whether it +was or wasn't, however, again he +had no choice.</p> + +<p>He waited until they were out +of sight, and then, stiffly, he removed +his helmet and ate. The +food tasted good. And with his +helmet off, with the wind on his +face, and the woods around him +whispering in his ears, it was a +meal fit for the being they +thought him to be.</p> + +<p>He was a god. Possibly it was +the space suit which made him +one, especially the goggle-eyed +helmet. He could take no chance +of becoming an ordinary mortal, +and that would mean that he +would have to wear the space +suit continually. Or at least the +helmet. That, he decided, was +what he would do. That would +leave his body reasonably free, +and at the same time impress +them with the fact that he was +different from them.</p> + +<p>By manipulating the air valve +he would be able to make the +viewplates cloud and uncloud at +will, thus giving dramatic expression +to his feelings. It would +be a pleasant game to play until +he had learned something of +their language. It would be safer +than trying to make things clear +to them with speech and gestures +that they could not understand +anyway.</p> + +<p>He wondered how long it +would be before Malevski would +find the shattered lifeboat drifting +in space, and then trace its +course and decide where he had +landed. That would be the end of +his divinity. Meanwhile, until +then—</p> + +<p>Until then he was a god. Unregenerated. +Permanently unregenerated. +Holding his helmet, +he threw back his head and +laughed loud and long, and wondered +what his mother would +have thought.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>For awhile he was being left +alone. They were afraid of him, +of course, fearful of intruding +with their merely mortal affairs +upon the meditations of so divine +a being. Later, however, curiosity +and perhaps a desire to show +him off to newcomers might +draw them back. In the interval, +it would be well to find out what +sort of place this was in which +he had landed.</p> + +<p>He looked around him. There +were trees, with sharp green +branches, sharp green twigs, +sharp red leaves. He shuddered +as he thought of what would +have happened to him if he had +fallen on the point of a branch. +The trees seemed rigid and unbending +in the wind that caressed +his face. There were no +birds that he could see. Small +black objects bounded from one +branch to another as if engaged +in complicated games of tag. He +wondered if the games were as +serious as the one he had been +playing with Malevski, with himself +as It.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There were no ground animals +in sight. If any showed up later, +they couldn't be too dangerous, +not with the natives living here +in such apparent peace and contentment. +There probably wouldn't +be anything that his pocket +gun, which he had taken the precaution +to remove from the lifeboat +before that shattered, +wouldn't be able to handle.</p> + +<p>Near him was a strange +spring, or little river, or whatever +you might call it. It broke +from the ground, ran along the +hard rocky surface for a dozen +feet, and then plunged underground +again. There were other +springs of a similar nature scattered +here and there, and now he +realized that their combined +murmuring was the noise he had +mistaken, on first removing his +helmet, for the rustle of the wind +in the woods.</p> + +<p>He would have enough to +drink. The natives would bring +him food. What else could any +reasonable man want?</p> + +<p>It wasn't the kind of life he +had dreamed of. No Martian +whiskey, no drugs, no night +spots, no bigtime gamblers slapping +him on the back and calling +him "pal," no brassy blondes +giving him the eye. Still, it was +better than the life he had actually +lived, much better. It +would do, it would have to do.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>From what he had seen of the +natives, he liked them—and +feared them. For all their mistaken +faith in him, they seemed +to be no fools. How many times +before had men from some supposedly +superior civilization +dropped in upon the people of a +new world and made that first +impression of divinity, only to +have the original attitude of +worship by the natives give way +to disillusion and contempt? +Who was that fellow they told +about in the history books he +had read as a kid? Cortez, way +back on Earth, when that planet +itself had offered unexplored territory. +And later on it had happened +on one of the moons of +Jupiter, and on several planets +outside the System. The explorers +had been gods, until they +had been found out. Then they +had been savage murderers, +plunderers, devils.</p> + +<p>It would be too bad if he were +found out. He was one against +them all, he would never be able +to fight off so many enemies. +More than that, he was a +stranger here, he needed friends. +No, he mustn't be found out.</p> + +<p>"Better put on your helmet, +dope," he told himself savagely. +"They'll be coming back soon, +and if they find you without +it—" He put on his helmet, still +muttering to himself. It wouldn't +make any difference if he +were overheard. They didn't +know Earth language and would +take his words for oracular utterances. +He could talk to himself +all he wanted, and from the +looks of things, there would be +no one to understand him. He +hoped he didn't grow crazy and +eccentric, like those hermits who +had been lost alone in space for +too many years.</p> + +<p>The helmet was the first nuisance. +There would be others too. +He couldn't even talk in what +had become his natural manner, +with a whine in every word, a +whine that came from being +treated with contempt by police +and fellow-criminals alike. A god +had to speak with slow gravity, +with dignity. A god had to walk +like a god. A god had endless responsibilities +here, it seemed.</p> + +<p>He thought again of his +mother. Ever since he could remember, +it had been, "Georgie, +wipe your nose!" and, "Georgie, +keep your fingers out of the +cake!" and Georgie do this and +<i>don't</i> do that. A fine way to speak +to a god. Even after he had +grown up, his mother had continued +to treat him like a baby. +She had never got over examining +his face and his ears and his +fingernails to make sure that he +had cleaned them properly. He +couldn't so much as comb his +hair to suit her; all through his +abortive attempt at college, and +later at a job, she had done it for +him.</p> + +<p>But she had been a lioness in +his defense later on, when he +had given way to that first +irresistible impulse to dip his +fingers in the till and get away +with what he thought would be +unnoticed petty cash. It had +been her fault that the thing had +happened, of course. She could +have given him a decent amount +of spending money, instead of +doling it out to him from his own +wages as if she were giving +money for candy to a schoolboy. +She could have treated him more +like the man he was supposed +to be.</p> + +<p>Still, he couldn't complain. +She had stuck to him all the way +through, whatever the charges +against him. When that lug of a +traveling salesman had accused +her Georgie of picking his +pockets, and that female refugee +from a TV studio had charged +poor harmless Georgie with +slugging her, it was his mother +who had stood up in court and +denounced them, and solemnly +told judge and jury what a +sweet, kind, helplessly innocent +lamb her Georgie was. It wasn't +her fault if no one had quite believed +her.</p> + +<p>Now he was on his own, without +any possibility of help from +her. And in what the ads called +a "responsible position" that +she had never so much as +dreamed he could fill.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, now that he +had reached so exalted a level, +there seemed to be few possibilities +of promotion. There appeared +only the chance, on the +one hand, that the natives would +find him out and slaughter him, +and on the other that Malevski +would track him down and bring +him back to Earth for the punishment +he dreaded.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was a good thing he had put +on his helmet. Not far away, a +group of the natives was approaching, +laden with more food +and flowers. It was larger than +the previous group. Evidently, as +he had anticipated, they were +showing him off to newcomers.</p> + +<p>He came to a stately halt and +waited for them to approach. He +could see the surprise on their +faces as they noted his change +of costume, and he watched +nervously as they stopped to +whisper among themselves. It +would be too bad for him if they +didn't like it.</p> + +<p>But they didn't seem to mind. +One of them, a very impressive +old man with green hair flecked +with red, stepped in front of the +others and made a speech, a +melodious speech full of liquid +sounds that were neither quite +vowels nor consonants. He didn't +have the slightest idea of what +the individual words meant. But +the significance of the speech as +a whole was clear enough. As it +came to an end, they presented +him with more food and flowers.</p> + +<p>Bradley cleared his throat. +And then, with as deep and impressive +a voice as he could manage, +he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, +it gives me great pleasure +to accept your nomination. I +promise you that if elected I +shall keep none of my promises."</p> + +<p>It was his first speech to them, +and he enjoyed making it so +much that every time he saw +them during the next few days—they +settled down to coming +twice a day, morning and night—he +made it again, with variations, +listing the wonderful +things he would do for them +if elected to the office.</p> + +<p>After awhile, as he began to +enjoy the ceremony for its own +sake, he didn't mind at all putting +the helmet on for two short +periods every day. Having so +little contact with them, he could +learn their language only very +slowly. He could distinguish the +word for flowers from that for +food, although he himself could +pronounce neither. He knew the +names of a few plants, a few +parts of the body. And he +learned a few names of people. +The red-green haired old man +was, as close as he could make +the sounds, Yanyoo. He took the +trouble to notice that the prettiest +girl was Aoooya.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At first everything had been +exceedingly peaceful. But about +a week after his arrival—he +couldn't be sure exactly how +many days had passed, because +he hadn't kept count—he learned +of some of the dangers they +faced.</p> + +<p>It was while they were holding +the morning ceremony that +the thing came out of the forest. +At first he thought that a tree +had moved. It was green, with +reddish blotches like clusters of +needle leaves, and it seemed to +ooze forward toward them from +among the trees. Aoooya noticed +it first, and pointed and +screamed. It was the size of a +tiger, thought Bradley, and +might be even more dangerous. +He had difficulty keeping his eyes +on the rapidly moving creature +through the goggles of his helmet. +He was aware of gleaming +eyes, of two rows of dull green +teeth, and of muscles that rippled +under the green fur.</p> + +<p>Several of the men had little +blowpipes, through which they +released a shower of darts. But +the darts bounced off the fur, +and the thing came on. Bradley +fumbled for his gun, and almost +dropped it in his excitement. +When he finally brought it up +into aiming position, his hand +was trembling, and his finger +could hardly catch the trigger.</p> + +<p>The thing leaped into the air +at the old man, Yanyoo, just as +the gun went off. The body vaporized +first, leaving for a fraction +of a second the fierce head +and the powerful legs apparently +supporting themselves in the +air. Then part of the head went, +and the rest fell to the ground. +But sheer momentum carried +the green smoky vapor on, so +that it surrounded first the old +man, then several of the girls, +and after them, Bradley himself. +They were all yelling, all but +Bradley, who put away his gun +and muttered to himself in relief, +and then the wind began to +dissipate the vapor, and on the +ground there was left only part +of a head and six torn legs.</p> + +<p>They were bowing to him and +raising their voices high in +thanks. It was easy, thought +Bradley. Really, it was a cinch +to be a god. The beasts that +were such great dangers to them +were mere trifles to him. To him, +with a gun loaded with a thousand +thermal charges each of +which was capable of blasting +armor plate. The thing wouldn't +even have come close if he himself +hadn't been such a timid, +cowardly fool. Put Malevski in +his place, and the detective would +have got the creature as it came +out of the trees. He wasn't Malevski.</p> + +<p>It was a good thing for him +that they couldn't know that. +Now his position was completely +secure. Now he could relax and +enjoy his divine life.</p> + +<p>He didn't realize that a much +greater danger was yet to come. +He found that out after the evening +ceremony.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The group that came to see +him this time was bigger than +ever. Evidently, to honor him +they had dropped all other work. +Yanyoo seemed to have constituted +himself Bradley's priest. +He made a tremendously long +and rhapsodic-sounding speech, +but at the end there was no donation +of the usual food and +flowers. Instead, Yanyoo backed +away, all the others doing the +same, and looking at Bradley as +if expecting him to follow them.</p> + +<p>He followed. In this manner, +with his worshippers walking respectfully +backwards, they +arrived at what seemed to Bradley +to be an ordinary small hut. +Outside the hut was what he took +for a curiously shaped log of +wood. The inside of the hut was +in shadow, but as his eyes became +accustomed to the dimness, +he saw something in one corner. +It was a weird-looking head, also +of wood.</p> + +<p>It struck him then. The log of +wood had been the old god, good +enough to worship until he had +come along and shown them +what a god could really do. Now +it had been contemptuously deposed +and decapitated. The hut +was a shrine. It was all his.</p> + +<p>He <i>had</i> been promoted after +all. The thought didn't please +him in the least. Suppose <i>he</i> +failed them too—and that was +very possible, for he had no idea +of what miracles they expected +of him. Then he would be deposed +and—he gagged at the +thought, but he knew that he had +to finish it—decapitated.</p> + +<p>But for the moment there was +no thought of deposing him. The +gifts they offered were more lavish +than ever. And in addition to +the food and flowers, there was +something new. A jug, filled with +a warm, sweetish-smelling liquid. +He could get the odor faintly +through the intake valve of his +helmet. Later on, when his worshippers +were gone and he had +his helmet off, he realized that it +smelled up the entire hut.</p> + +<p>It couldn't be harmful. Nothing +that they had offered him so +far was harmful. He took a sip—and +sighed with content. This +was one of the few things he had +been lacking. There was alcohol, +and there were flavors and +essences that reminded him of +the drinks he had encountered +on a dozen planets. But this was +first class stuff, not diluted or +adulterated with the thousand +and one synthetics that were put +in to stretch a good thing as far +as it could go.</p> + +<p>Without realizing the danger, +he downed the entire contents of +the jug.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He felt good. He hadn't felt so +good in years, not since his +mother had made him a special +cake for his birthday when he +was—let me see now, was it +eight or nine? No matter, it had +been many years ago, and the +occasion had been notable for the +fact that she had let him drink +some of the older people's punch, +made with a tiny bit of some +alcoholic drink. He felt <i>very</i> +good. He picked up his helmet +and put it on his head, and stuck +the stem of a green flower rakishly +through the exit valve of +the helmet, so that the flower +seemed to dance every time he +exhaled, and staggered out of his +hut.</p> + +<p>He was fortunate that it was +dark. "I'm drunk," he told himself. +"Never been so drunk in my +life. Never felt so good. Mother +never felt so good. Malevski +never felt so good."</p> + +<p>He passed a shadowy figure in +the dark and said, "Hiya, friend +and worshipper. Ever see a god +drunk before?"</p> + +<p>The figure bowed, and kept its +head lowered until he had moved +on.</p> + +<p>"Drunk or sober, I'm shtill divine," +he said proudly. And he +began to sing, loudly and impressively, +his voice orchestral in his +own ears within the confines of +the helmet. "Ould Lang Shyne, +she ain't what she ushed to be, +ain't what she ushed to be—" +The words came easily, and as it +seemed, naturally to his lips.</p> + +<p>After awhile, however, he +tired of them. After awhile he +found that his legs had tired of +them. He sat down with a thump +under a spiky tree and said +solemnly, "Never felt so good in +my life. Never felt so happy—it's +a lie. I don't feel good."</p> + +<p>He didn't, not any more. He +felt sick to his stomach. A touch +of sober thought had corroded +the happiness of his intoxication, +and he was sick and afraid. Today +their god was a hero, today +they would forgive him everything. +But did they actually <i>prefer</i> +a drunken god? No. Drunkenness +made a god human, all +too human. A drunken god was +a weak god, and his hold on his +worshippers was their belief in +his strength. As he valued his +life, he must get drunk no more.</p> + +<p>"Ain't gonna get drunk no +more, no more," he sang sadly +and solemnly to himself, and finally +he fell asleep.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He awoke with a hangover and +a memory. He was not one of +those men who when sober forget +all they have done when +drunk. He remembered everything. +And he knew that he must +put drunkenness away from him.</p> + +<p>That morning they brought +him only food and flowers. But +at the evening ceremony they +presented him once more with a +jug of liquor as an additional reward +for his destruction of the +deadly beast. For the first time, +Bradley took an active part in +the ceremony. He held up the jug +and said in grave tones, "In the +name of Carrie Nation, I renounce +thee and all thy works."</p> + +<p>Then he poured out the liquor +and smashed the jug on the +ground.</p> + +<p>After that, the smashing of +the jug was part of the ceremony +of worshipping him. It left +him unhappy at first, but sober. +After awhile, the unhappiness +disappeared, but the soberness +remained. From now on, he +would act as a god should act.</p> + +<p>The natives were not stupid, +he saw that very clearly. The +first jugs they had offered him +had been beautiful objects, of +excellent workmanship. But +when they perceived that the +only use he had for them was to +break them, the quality deteriorated +rapidly. Now the jugs they +brought him were crude things +indeed, made for the sole purpose +of being smashed. He wondered +how many other tribes had +tricked their gods similarly.</p> + +<p>No, they were not at all stupid. +It struck him that with such +advantages of civilization as he +himself had enjoyed, they would +have gone much further than he +did. Two weeks or so after he had +come down from the sky to be +their god, he saw that they had +learned from him. One of the +young men appeared during the +day wearing a wooden helmet. It +was a helmet obviously patterned +after his own, although it had +no glass or plastic, and the openings +in front of the eyes were +left blank. The mythical Earth-hero, +Prometheus, had brought +fire down from the skies. He had +brought the Helmet. He was +Bradley, the Helmet-Bringer.</p> + +<p>Even at that he had underestimated +his worshippers. He had +thought at first that the helmets +were meant merely for ornament +and decoration. He learned better +one day when a swarm of +creatures like flying lizards +swept down out of a group of +trees in a fierce attack. He had +not known that such creatures +existed here, and now that he +saw them, he realized how fortunate +it was that they were not +more numerous. They had sharp +teeth and sharper claws, and they +tore at his head with a ferocity +that struck fear into his heart. +His gun was of less use than +usual against them. He could +catch one or two, but the others +moved too swiftly for him to aim.</p> + +<p>By this time, others of the +natives wore wooden helmets, +and he could see how the sharp +claws ripped splinter after +splinter from them. But the +birds or lizards, or whatever +they were, didn't go unscathed. +From a sort of skin bellows, several +of the natives blew a gray +mist at them, and where the mist +made contact with the leather +skin, the flying creatures seemed +to be paralyzed in mid-flight, and +they fell to the ground, where +they were easily crushed to +death. By the time they had +given up the fight and fled, half +a dozen of them were lying dead.</p> + +<p>They were evidently useless +for food because of the poison +they contained. He was surprised +to see, however, that the natives +still had a use for them. They +dragged the dead creatures into +a field of growing crops, and left +them there to rot into fertilizer.</p> + +<p>But such incidents as this, he +found, were to be rare. For the +most part, the life here was +peaceful, and he found himself +liking it more and more. Now, +without laughter, he wondered +again what his mother would +have thought of him.</p> + +<p>She would have been proud. +He realized now that she had +done her best for him. And +when every one else had given +up hope for him, she had not. +Perhaps she had protected him +too much—but she had early +learned the need for protection. +He could look at her now in a +new light. Her own father had +died early in life, and then her +husband soon after her son had +been born. She had faced a tough +fight, and had thought to spare +him what she herself had gone +through. Too bad she hadn't +realized exactly what she was doing. +She was bringing him up +with the ability, as the old epigram +had it, to resist everything +but temptation.</p> + +<p>The temptation to steal that +petty cash, to put his hands into +a drunk's pocket and lift the +man's wallet, to lie to a pretty +girl, to slug a helpless victim—he +had resisted none of them. He +had resisted nothing until that +day he had poured the jugful of +liquor on the ground and +smashed the jug itself.</p> + +<p>But could he blame his mother +for all that? It had all been his +own fault.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And it would be his own fault +if he failed to resist the new +temptation that now reared its +pretty head—Aoooya. She had +taken to coming to his hut-shrine +for a private little ceremony +of her own. You might almost +have thought that she had +fallen in love with him as an individual. +He wondered whether +she had been impressed by his +helmet. Did she take that to be +his actual head? No, of course +not. They had made helmets for +themselves, therefore they knew +that the thing he wore was also +a helmet. Perhaps they knew +more about him than he thought.</p> + +<p>But they continued to worship +him, that was the main thing. +And Aoooya brought him, every +day, little presents, special flowers +and food delicacies, that +argued a personal affection.</p> + +<p>This was a danger that he +recognized from the beginning. +Perhaps a god <i>might</i> fall in love +with a mortal without losing his +godliness. Perhaps. It had happened +before. But, however the +rest of the tribe might react to +the idea, Bradley had noticed +one young man who liked to stay +near the girl, and he knew that +this rival wouldn't take kindly +to it at all. He might resent the +god's behavior. And what happened +when these people didn't +like the way a god behaved? +Why, they struck his head off.</p> + +<p>The god might act first, of +course. The young man wouldn't +stand a chance against him if he +used his gun. In fact, Bradley +could blast the other man unobserved, +make him disappear into +vapor, without leaving any +traces of how he died. That was +murder, but if a god couldn't get +away with murder, what sort of +god was he? A pretty poor, +cheap sort indeed. Yes, he could +make his own rules.</p> + +<p>And he could go on, maintaining +his godhood by little murders +of that sort, and other deadly +miracles, until they hated him +more than they loved him. That +would follow inevitably. And +then, when they all hated him, +not even his gun would save him. +Then—</p> + +<p>"You're a liar," he told himself +fiercely. "That isn't the +thing you're afraid of. Your +weakness is that you don't have +a murderous nature. You could +kill one or two of them and get +away with it, and you'd be able +to control yourself and kill no +more. That time you hit the man +over the head, you didn't intend +to kill him either. You were +more frightened, at first, anyway, +by the thought that you +might have killed him, than by +the danger of being caught. You +were overjoyed when he lived.</p> + +<p>"You hate to kill, that's your +trouble. You've had a sense of +responsibility all along, but it +never had a chance to develop. +Now it's developed. You feel responsible +for these people, for +Aoooya and for the rest of them. +That's why you can't take advantage +of them. You've been +posing as a rebel all your life, +and you're just a respectable, +law-abiding citizen at heart."</p> + +<p>He winced at the thought. His +own society had never accepted +him at his own valuation. This +one took him for a much greater +being than he took himself, and +there seemed to be nothing to do +but to live up to what he was expected +to be.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>All the same, Aoooya continued +to be a tempting morsel, +and sooner or later, he feared, +he would not be able to resist +her. And then the planet itself +provided a diversion.</p> + +<p>They had never seen such a +thing and had no idea of what +it presaged, but he knew. He had +heard of it on Earth and on +Venus, and he had seen it on +other planets where the rock +formations had not yet settled +down. A little hollow appeared +first in the ground, and then the +hollow was pushed out and suddenly +blown into the air. Steam +whistled through the newly made +vent, a shower of steam and hot +dust and red hot fragments of +rock. Slowly the vent grew, until +the cloud from the terrifying +geyser darkened the sky and +spread panic through the tribe.</p> + +<p>He knew what would happen +next. They were running around +in terror, but not for one moment +was he himself in doubt. +He donned his complete space +suit, in order to impress them +the more, then stalked into the +middle of them, and said, "Pick +up all your possessions and follow +me."</p> + +<p>They stared at him, and he +showed them what he meant by +picking up the belongings of one +household in his gloved hands, +and handing them to a waiting +woman. Then, when they had +grasped the idea and were gathering +all they owned, he led them +toward the safety of the trees. +Five minutes after they had set +off, the lava began to flow from +the new-born volcano, scorching +the ground for a hundred yards +around, sparks smoking and +smoldering in the treetops.</p> + +<p>The head start he had given +them was enough to help them +escape the resultant forest fire. +All that day they traveled, until +finally they came to a forest +which couldn't burn, and here +they rested. And here they +settled down to build their lives +anew.</p> + +<p>It must have been a comfort +to know that a god had led them +to safety and was helping them +make the new start. Bradley +helped them with his gun, which +blasted dangerous beasts, and +even more with his slightly superior +knowledge. He showed them +how to fashion tools from stone +and how to use these to build +better huts. He taught them how +to make swords and other weapons, +so that henceforth they +wouldn't be forced to rely for +defense on poison alone. He was +the most industrious god since +Vulcan. And in helping them he +found that he had no time for +Aoooya.</p> + +<p>Came the day when the new +village settled down to its +changed routine of life. The +morning ceremony before his +new shrine had just been completed, +but Bradley was not satisfied. +Something was wrong. +Yanyoo's demeanor, Aoooya's—</p> + +<p>With a shock, Bradley realized +what it was. From old Yanyoo +down the line, none of the natives +seemed to have their original +fear of him. There was respect, +there was affection, certainly, +but the respect and affection +were those due an older brother +rather than a god.</p> + +<p>And he was not displeased. Being +a god had been a wearying +business. Being a friend might +be a great deal more pleasant. +Yes, the change was something +to be happy about.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But he had little time to be +happy. For that same morning, +there came what he had so long +dreaded. Out of a clear, shipless +sky, Malevski appeared, strolling +toward him as casually as if he +had been there all along, and +said, "Nice little ceremony you +have here."</p> + +<p>"Hello, Malevski. Don't give +me the credit. They thought it +up."</p> + +<p>"Ingenious. Almost as ingenious +as the way they've used +the help you gave them. We had +this tribe listed long ago as a +very capable one, far behind the +rest of its System in development, +it's true, but only because +it had started late up the evolutionary +ladder. It had been doing +very nicely on its own, and +we didn't want to interfere unless +we could give it some real +help.</p> + +<p>"I'll admit that I had a few +qualms at first, when we traced +you here and learned that you +had landed among them. But +we've been observing you for +the past day and a half—our +space ship landed beyond that +burned out stretch of ground, +not too close to that volcano—and +I'll have to admit that, judging +from your past record, I +didn't think you had it in you."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that's over with +now," said Bradley.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you're finished with being +a god. We don't believe in +kidding the natives, Bradley!"</p> + +<p>Bradley nodded ruefully. +"They don't seem to believe in +it, either. I guess they found +out I wasn't a god before I did. +But it didn't seem to matter to +them." He sighed, and turned +toward the new village. "Do you +mind, if I sort of—well, hold a +farewell ceremony before we go? +They won't understand, but +they'll feel better than if I just +go off...."</p> + +<p>Malevski shook his head firmly. +"No, no time for that. I'll +have to get out a full report, +and we're in a hurry to get off. +Any word you'd like to have sent +out to your mother, Bradley, before +we blast?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Bradley looked back again, +and his shoulders came up more +firmly. He'd taught his people +here, and led them; but he'd +learned a few things himself—he'd +found he could take what +was necessary. He'd found that +the easiest way wasn't always +the best, that getting drunk was +no way out, and that real friendship +and respect meant more +than the words of big-shots. +Maybe he'd learned enough to be +able to take regeneration....</p> + +<p>He managed to grin, a little +lopsidedly, at Malevski. "Yeah. +You might send her a message. +Tell her I'm fine, and that I've +learned to wipe my own nose. I +think she'll be glad to hear that."</p> + +<p>"She will," Malevski told him. +"When she hears that you're +Provisional Governor of this +planet, she'll even believe it."</p> + +<p>"Provisional Governor?" Bradley +stood with his mouth open, +staring. He shook his head. "But +what about regeneration...?"</p> + +<p>Malevski laughed. "You're appointed, +on the basis of my first +report about what you're doing +here, Bradley," he answered. "As +to regeneration ... well, you +think about it, while we bring in +the supplies we're supposed to +leave for you, before we blast out +of here."</p> + +<p>He went off, chuckling, towards +his ship, leaving Bradley +to puzzle over it.</p> + +<p>Then, just as Malevski disappeared, +he understood. Damn +it, they'd tricked him! They'd +left him here where he had to be +a god and assume the responsibilities +of a god. And through +that, he'd been regenerated—completely, +thoroughly regenerated!</p> + +<p>Suddenly, he was chuckling as +hard as Malevski as he swung +around and went back to face his +former worshippers. And they +were coming forward to meet +him, their friendly smiles matching +his own.</p> + + +<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Space Science Fiction</i> 1953. 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 Divinity, by William Morrison + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIVINITY *** + +***** This file should be named 22623-h.htm or 22623-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/2/22623/ + +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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