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diff --git a/23164-h/23164-h.htm b/23164-h/23164-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..36c745f --- /dev/null +++ b/23164-h/23164-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4266 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii" /> + + <title>The Creature from Cleveland Depths, by Fritz Leiber.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body { + font-family: Georgia,serif; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + } + + p { + text-align: justify; + margin: 0em; + text-indent:1em; + } + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + font-weight: normal; + margin-top:2em; + } + + div.image {text-align:center; + width:100%; + margin:1em auto; + text-indent:0em;} + + img { + border:none; + } + + ins {text-decoration:none;border-bottom:thin red dotted;} + + .transcriber_note {margin: 2em 10%; + padding: 1em 1em; + border:thin gray solid; + background-color:#eee; + color:#000; + text-align:left; + } + + .transcriber_note p {text-align:left;margin-top:.5em;text-indent:0em;} + + .prolog { + margin: 0em 20%; + padding-bottom: 2em; + text-align:justify; + font-family:sans-serif; + font-style:italic; + text-indent:0em; + } + + .author { + text-align: center; + font-size:125%; + font-family:sans-serif; + padding:1em; + } + + .illustrator { + text-align:center; + font-family:sans-serif; + padding-bottom:2em; + } + + .fancy { + font-family: "Papyrus", sans-serif; + font-size: 1.75em; + } + + .pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 1%; + right: 87%; + font-size: 10px; + text-align: left; + color: gray; + background-color: inherit; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + text-indent: 0em; + } + + a[title].pagenum:after { + content: attr(title); + } + + .post_break, h2+p { + margin-top:2em; + text-indent:0em; + } + + .post_break:first-letter, h2+p:first-letter { + font-size:2.5em; + float: left; + clear: left; + margin: -.2em 4px -.2em 0px; + line-height: 1.25em; + } + + .first_word { text-transform:uppercase; } + + .closing {text-align:right;margin-right:1em;margin-top:1em;} + + /* framing decoration */ + #the_beginning { border-top:thin gray solid; margin:2em 0em;} + #the_end { border-bottom:thin gray solid; margin:2em 0em;} + + /* no underlines in links */ + + a:link { text-decoration: none; } + a:visited { text-decoration: none; } + + a:hover { + color: red; + background: inherit; + } + --> + + </style> + + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Creature from Cleveland Depths, by +Fritz Reuter Leiber + +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: The Creature from Cleveland Depths + +Author: Fritz Reuter Leiber + +Release Date: October 24, 2007 [EBook #23164] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CREATURE FROM CLEVELAND DEPTHS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + <div class="transcriber_note"> + <p>Transcriber’s Note: This etext was produced from <cite>Galaxy</cite> December + 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the + U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> + <p>Corrections are indicated by a dotted underline, like <ins title="original reading">this</ins>.</p> + </div> + <p id="the_beginning"> </p> + <p class="prolog"><a class="pagenum" id="page9" title="9"></a>Here is a modern tale of an + inner-directed sorcerer and + an outer-directed sorcerer’s + apprentice … a tale of—</p> + + <h1>THE<br /> + <span class="fancy">CREATURE</span><br /> + FROM<br /> + CLEVELAND DEPTHS</h1> + + <p class="author">By FRITZ LEIBER</p> + + <p class="illustrator">Illustrated by WOOD</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“Come</span> on, Gussy,” Fay prodded + quietly, “quit stalking + around like a neurotic bear and + suggest something for my invention + team to work on. I enjoy + visiting you and Daisy, but I + can’t stay aboveground all night.”</p> + + <p>“If being outside the shelters + makes you nervous, don’t come + around any more,” Gusterson + told him, continuing to stalk. + “Why doesn’t your invention + team think of something to invent? + Why don’t you? Hah!” In + the “Hah!” lay triumphant condemnation + of a whole way of life.</p> + + <p>“We do,” Fay responded imperturbably, + “but a fresh viewpoint sometimes helps.”</p> + + <p>“I’ll say it does! Fay, you burglar, + I’ll bet you’ve got twenty + people like myself you milk for + free ideas. First you irritate their + bark and then you make the + <a class="pagenum" id="page10" title="10"></a>rounds every so often to draw off + the latex or the maple gloop.”</p> + + <p>Fay smiled. “It ought to please + you that society still has a use + for you outre inner-directed + types. It takes something to make + a junior executive stay aboveground + after dark, when the missiles + are on the prowl.”</p> + + <p>“Society can’t have much use + for <ins title="use">us</ins> or it’d pay us something,” + Gusterson sourly asserted, staring + blankly at the tankless TV + and kicking it lightly as he + passed on.</p> + + <p>“No, you’re wrong about that, + Gussy. Money’s not the key goad + with you inner-directeds. I got + that straight from our Motivations + chief.”</p> + + <p>“Did he tell you what we + should use instead to pay the grocer? + A deep inner sense of + achievement, maybe? Fay, why + should I do any free thinking for + Micro Systems?”</p> + + <p>“I’ll tell you why, Gussy. Simply + because you get a kick out of + insulting us with sardonic ideas. + If we take one of them seriously, + you think we’re degrading ourselves, + and that pleases you even + more. Like making someone + laugh at a lousy pun.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Gusterson</span> held still in his + roaming and grinned. “That + the reason, huh? I suppose my + suggestions would have to be + something in the line of ultra-subminiaturized + computers, + where one sinister fine-etched + molecule does the work of three + big bumbling brain cells?”</p> + + <p>“Not necessarily. Micro Systems + is branching out. Wheel as + free as a rogue star. But I’ll pass + along to Promotion your one + molecule-three brain cell sparkler. + It’s a slight exaggeration, + but it’s catchy.”</p> + + <p>“I’ll have my kids watch your + ads to see if you use it and then + I’ll sue the whole underworld.” + Gusterson frowned as he resumed + his stalking. He stared puzzledly + at the antique TV. “How about + inventing a plutonium termite?” + he said suddenly. “It would get + rid of those stockpiles that are + worrying you moles to death.”</p> + + <p>Fay grimaced noncommittally + and cocked his head.</p> + + <p>“Well, then, how about a + beauty mask? How about that, + hey? I don’t mean one to repair + a woman’s complexion, but one + she’d wear all the time that’d + make her look like a 17-year-old + sexpot. That’d end <em>her</em> worries.”</p> + + <p>“Hey, that’s for me,” Daisy + called from the kitchen. “I’ll + make Gusterson suffer. I’ll make + him crawl around on his hands + and knees begging my immature + favors.”</p> + + <div class="image"><a class="pagenum" id="page11" title="11"></a> + <img src="images/illo-1.jpg" width="400" height="548" alt="A montage: A fellow holding a gun on a man; a man and a woman nearly kissing; a one-eyed robot tearing up paper." /> + </div> + + <p>“No, you won’t,” Gusterson + called back. “You having a face + like that would scare the kids. + Better cancel that one, Fay. Half + <a class="pagenum" id="page12" title="12"></a>the adult race looking like Vina + Vidarsson is too awful a + thought.”</p> + + <p>“Yah, you’re just scared of + making a million dollars,” Daisy + jeered.</p> + + <p>“I sure am,” Gusterson said + solemnly, scanning the fuzzy + floor from one murky glass wall + to the other, hesitating at the TV. + “How about something homey + now, like a flock of little prickly + cylinders that roll around the + floor collecting lint and flub? + They’d work by electricity, or at + a pinch cats could bat ’em + around. Every so often they’d be + automatically herded together + and the lint cleaned off the + bristles.”</p> + + <p>“No good,” Fay said. “There’s + no lint underground and cats are + <em>verboten</em>. And the aboveground + market doesn’t amount to more + moneywise than the state of + Southern Illinois. Keep it + grander, Gussy, and more impractical—you + can’t sell people + merely useful ideas.” From his + hassock in the center of the room + he looked uneasily around. “Say, + did that violet tone in the glass + come from the high Cleveland + hydrogen bomb or is it just age + and ultraviolet, like desert glass?”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“No</span>, somebody’s grandfather + liked it that color,” Gusterson + informed him with happy + bitterness. “I like it too—the + glass, I mean, not the tint. People + who live in glass houses can see + the stars—especially when + there’s a window-washing streak + in their germ-plasm.”</p> + + <p>“Gussy, why don’t you move + underground?” Fay asked, his + voice taking on a missionary + note. “It’s a lot easier living in + one room, believe me. You don’t + have to tramp from room to room + hunting things.”</p> + + <p>“I like the exercise,” Gusterson + said stoutly.</p> + + <p>“But I bet Daisy’d prefer it + underground. And your kids + wouldn’t have to explain why + their father lives like a Red Indian. + Not to mention the safety + factor and insurance savings and + a crypt church within easy slidewalk + distance. Incidentally, we + see the stars all the time, better + than you do—by repeater.”</p> + + <p>“Stars by repeater,” Gusterson + murmured to the ceiling, pausing + for God to comment. Then, “No, + Fay, even if I could afford it—and + stand it—I’m such a + bad-luck Harry that just when + I got us all safely stowed at + the N minus 1 sublevel, the + Soviets would discover an + earthquake bomb that struck + from below, and I’d have to follow + everybody back to the treetops. + <em>Hey! How about bubble + homes in orbit around earth?</em> + Micro Systems could subdivide + the world’s most spacious suburb + <a class="pagenum" id="page13" title="13"></a>and all you moles could go ellipsing. + Space is as safe as there is: + no air, no shock waves. Free fall’s + the ultimate in restfulness—great + health benefits. Commute + by rocket—or better yet stay + home and do all your business by + TV-telephone, or by waldo if it + were that sort of thing. Even pet + your girl by remote control—she + in her bubble, you in yours, + whizzing through vacuum. Oh, + damn-damn-<em>damn</em>-<em>damn</em>-DAMN!”</p> + + <p>He was glaring at the blank + screen of the TV, his big hands + clenching and unclenching.</p> + + <p>“Don’t let Fay give you apoplexy—he’s + not worth it,” Daisy + said, sticking her trim head in + from the kitchen, while Fay inquired + anxiously, “Gussy, what’s + the matter?”</p> + + <p>“Nothing, you worm!” Gusterson + roared, “Except that an hour + ago I forgot to tune in on the only + TV program I’ve wanted to hear + this year—<em>Finnegans Wake</em> + scored for English, Gaelic and + brogue. Oh, damn-<em>damn</em>-DAMN!”</p> + + <p>“Too bad,” Fay said lightly. “I + didn’t know they were releasing + it on flat TV too.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“Well</span>, they were! Some + things are too damn big + to keep completely underground. + And I had to forget! I’m always + doing it—I miss everything! + Look here, you rat,” he blatted + suddenly at Fay, shaking his + finger under the latter’s chin, “I’ll + tell you what you can have that + ignorant team of yours invent. + They can fix me up a mechanical + secretary that I can feed orders + into and that’ll remind me when + the exact moment comes to listen + to TV or phone somebody or + mail in a story or write a letter + or pick up a magazine or look at + an eclipse or a new orbiting station + or fetch the kids from school + or buy Daisy a bunch of flowers + or whatever it is. It’s got to be + something that’s always with me, + not something I have to go and + consult or that I can get sick of + and put down somewhere. And + it’s got to remind me forcibly + enough so that I take notice and + don’t just shrug it aside, like I + sometimes do even when Daisy + reminds me of things. That’s + what your stupid team can invent + for me! If they do a good job, I’ll + pay ’em as much as fifty dollars!”</p> + + <p>“That doesn’t sound like anything + so very original to me,” Fay + commented coolly, leaning back + from the wagging finger. “I think + all senior executives have something + of that sort. At least, their + secretary keeps some kind of + file….”</p> + + <p>“I’m not looking for something + with spiked falsies and nylons up + to the neck,” interjected Gusterson, + whose ideas about secretaries + were a trifle lurid. “I just want a + <a class="pagenum" id="page14" title="14"></a>mech reminder—that’s all!”</p> + + <p>“Well, I’ll keep the idea in + mind,” Fay assured him, “along + with the bubble homes and + beauty masks. If we ever develop + anything along those lines, I’ll + let you know. If it’s a beauty + mask, I’ll bring Daisy a pilot + model—to use to scare strange + kids.” He put his watch to his + ear. “Good lord, I’m going to have + to cut to make it underground before + the main doors close. Just + ten minutes to Second Curfew! + ’By, Gus. ’By, Daze.”</p> + + <p>Two minutes later, living room + lights out, they watched Fay’s + foreshortened antlike figure scurrying + across the balding ill-lit + park toward the nearest escalator.</p> + + <p>Gusterson said, “Weird to + think of that big bright space-poor + glamor basement stretching + around everywhere underneath. + Did you remind Smitty to put a + new bulb in the elevator?”</p> + + <p>“The Smiths moved out this + morning,” Daisy said tonelessly. + “They went underneath.”</p> + + <p>“Like cockroaches,” Gusterson + said. “Cockroaches leavin’ a + sinkin’ apartment building. Next + the ghosts’ll be retreatin’ to the + shelters.”</p> + + <p>“Anyhow, from now on we’re + our own janitors,” Daisy said.</p> + + <p>He nodded. “Just leaves three + families besides us loyal to this + glass death trap. Not countin’ + ghosts.” He sighed. Then, “You + like to move below, Daisy?” he + asked softly, putting his arm + lightly across her shoulders. “Get + a woozy eyeful of the bright lights + and all for a change? Be a rat for + a while? Maybe we’re getting too + old to be bats. I could scrounge + me a company job and have a + thinking closet all to myself and + two secretaries with stainless + steel breasts. Life’d be easier for + you and a lot cleaner. And you’d + sleep safer.”</p> + + <p>“That’s true,” she answered + and paused. She ran her fingertip + slowly across the murky glass, its + violet tint barely perceptible + against a cold dim light across + the park. “But somehow,” she + said, snaking her arm around his + waist, “I don’t think I’d sleep + happier—or one bit excited.”</p> + + <h2>II</h2> + + <p><span class="first_word">Three</span> weeks later Fay, dropping + in again, handed to Daisy + the larger of the two rather small + packages he was carrying.</p> + + <p>“It’s a so-called beauty mask,” + he told her, “complete with wig, + eyelashes, and wettable velvet + lips. It even breathes—pinholed + elastiskin with a static adherence-charge. + But Micro Systems had + nothing to do with it, thank God. + Beauty Trix put it on the market + ten days ago and it’s already + started a teen-age craze. Some + <a class="pagenum" id="page15" title="15"></a>boys are wearing them too, and + the police are yipping at Trix for + encouraging transvestism with + psychic repercussions.”</p> + + <p>“Didn’t I hear somewhere that + Trix is a secret subsidiary of + Micro?” Gusterson demanded, + rearing up from his ancient electric + typewriter. “No, you’re not + stopping me writing, Fay—it’s + the gut of evening. If I do any + more I won’t have any juice to + start with tomorrow. I got another + of my insanity thrillers + moving. A real id-teaser. In this + one not only all the characters + are crazy but the robot psychiatrist + too.”</p> + + <p>“The vending machines are + jumping with insanity novels,” + Fay commented. “Odd they’re so + popular.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson chortled. “The only + way you outer-directed moles + will accept individuality any + more even in a fictional character, + without your superegos getting + seasick, is for them to be + crazy. Hey, Daisy! Lemme see + that beauty mask!”</p> + + <p>But his wife, backing out of + the room, hugged the package to + her bosom and solemnly shook + her head.</p> + + <p>“A hell of a thing,” Gusterson + complained, “not even to be able + to see what my stolen ideas look + like.”</p> + + <p>“I got a present for you too,” + Fay said. “Something you might + think of as a royalty on all the + inventions someone thought of a + little ahead of you. Fifty dollars + by your own evaluation.” He held + out the smaller package. “Your + tickler.”</p> + + <p>“My <em>what?</em>” Gusterson demanded + suspiciously.</p> + + <p>“Your tickler. The mech reminder + you wanted. It turns out + that the file a secretary keeps to + remind her boss to do certain + things at certain times is called + a tickler file. So we named this + a tickler. Here.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson still didn’t touch the + package. “You mean you actually + put your invention team to work + on that nonsense?”</p> + + <p>“Well, what do you think? + Don’t be scared of it. Here, I’ll + show you.”</p> + + <p>As he unwrapped the package, + Fay said, “It hasn’t been decided + yet whether we’ll manufacture it + commercially. If we do, I’ll put + through a voucher for you—for + ‘development consultation’ or + something like that. Sorry no royalty’s + possible. Davidson’s squad + had started to work up the identical + idea three years ago, but it + got shelved. I found it on a snoop + through the closets. There! Looks + rich, doesn’t it?”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">On the</span> scarred black tabletop + was a dully gleaming + silvery object about the size and + shape of a cupped hand with fingers + <a class="pagenum" id="page16" title="16"></a>merging. A tiny pellet on a + short near-invisible wire led off + from it. On the back was a punctured + area suggesting the face of + a microphone; there was also a + window with a date and time in + hours and minutes showing + through and next to that four + little buttons in a row. The concave + underside of the silvery + “hand” was smooth except for a + central area where what looked + like two little rollers came + through.</p> + + <p>“It goes on your shoulder under + your shirt,” Fay explained, + “and you tuck the pellet in your + ear. We might work up bone conduction + on a commercial model. + Inside is an ultra-slow fine-wire + recorder holding a spool that + runs for a week. The clock lets + you go to any place on the 7-day + wire and record a message. The + buttons give you variable speed + in going there, so you don’t waste + too much time making a setting. + There’s a knack in fingering them + efficiently, but it’s easily acquired.”</p> + + <p>Fay picked up the tickler. “For + instance, suppose there’s a TV + show you want to catch tomorrow + night at twenty-two hundred.” + He touched the buttons. + There was the faintest whirring. + The clock face blurred briefly + three times before showing the + setting he’d mentioned. Then Fay + spoke into the punctured area: + “Turn on TV Channel Two, you + big dummy!” He grinned over at + Gusterson. “When you’ve got all + your instructions to yourself + loaded in, you synchronize with + the present moment and let her + roll. Fit it on your shoulder and + forget it. Oh, yes, and it literally + does tickle you every time it delivers + an instruction. That’s what + the little rollers are for. Believe + me, you can’t ignore it. Come on, + Gussy, take off your shirt and try + it out. We’ll feed in some instructions + for the next ten minutes so + you get the feel of how it works.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t want to,” Gusterson + said. “Not right now. I want to + sniff around it first. My God, it’s + small! Besides everything else it + does, does it think?”</p> + + <p>“Don’t pretend to be an idiot, + Gussy! You know very well that + even with ultra-sub-micro nothing + quite this small can possibly have + enough elements to do any thinking.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson shrugged. “I don’t + know about that. I think bugs + think.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Fay</span> groaned faintly. “Bugs operate + by instinct, Gussy,” he + said. “A patterned routine. They + do not scan situations and consequences + and then make decisions.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t expect bugs to make + decisions,” Gusterson said. “For + that matter I don’t like people + <a class="pagenum" id="page17" title="17"></a>who go around alla time making + decisions.”</p> + + <p>“Well, you can take it from me, + Gussy, that this tickler is just a + miniaturized wire recorder and + clock … and a tickler. It doesn’t + do anything else.”</p> + + <p>“Not yet, maybe,” Gusterson + said darkly. “Not this model. Fay, + I’m serious about bugs thinking. + Or if they don’t exactly think, + they feel. They’ve got an interior + drama. An inner glow. They’re + conscious. For that matter, Fay, + I think all your really complex + electronic computers are conscious + too.”</p> + + <p>“Quit kidding, Gussy.”</p> + + <p>“Who’s kidding?”</p> + + <p>“You are. Computers simply + aren’t alive.”</p> + + <p>“What’s alive? A word. I think + computers are conscious, at least + while they’re operating. They’ve + got that inner glow of awareness. + They sort of … well … meditate.”</p> + + <p>“Gussy, computers haven’t got + any circuits for meditating. + They’re not programmed for + mystical lucubrations. They’ve + just got circuits for solving the + problems they’re on.”</p> + + <p>“Okay, you admit they’ve got + problem-solving circuits—like + a man has. I say if they’ve got the + equipment for being conscious, + they’re conscious. What has + wings, flies.”</p> + + <p>“Including stuffed owls and + gilt eagles and dodoes—and + wood-burning airplanes?”</p> + + <p>“Maybe, under some circumstances. + There <em>was</em> a wood-burning + airplane. Fay,” Gusterson + continued, wagging his wrists for + emphasis, “I really think computers + are conscious. They just don’t + have any way of telling us that + they are. Or maybe they don’t + have any <em>reason</em> to tell us, like + the little Scotch boy who didn’t + say a word until he was fifteen + and was supposed to be deaf and + dumb.”</p> + + <p>“Why didn’t he say a word?”</p> + + <p>“Because he’d never had anything + to say. Or take those Hindu + fakirs, Fay, who sit still and don’t + say a word for thirty years or + until their fingernails grow to the + next village. If Hindu fakirs can + do that, computers can!”</p> + + <p>Looking as if he were masticating + a lemon, Fay asked quietly, + “Gussy, did you say you’re working + on an insanity novel?”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Gusterson</span> frowned fiercely. + “Now you’re kidding,” he accused + Fay. “The dirty kind of + kidding, too.”</p> + + <p>“I’m sorry,” Fay said with light + contrition. “Well, now you’ve + sniffed at it, how about trying on + Tickler?” He picked up the + gleaming blunted crescent and + jogged it temptingly under Gusterson’s + chin.</p> + + <p>“Why should I?” Gusterson + <a class="pagenum" id="page18" title="18"></a>asked, stepping back. “Fay, I’m + up to my ears writing a book. The + last thing I want is something interrupting + me to make me listen + to a lot of junk and do a lot of + useless things.”</p> + + <p>“But, dammit, Gussy! It was + all your idea in the first place!” + Fay blatted. Then, catching himself, + he added, “I mean, you were + one of the first people to think of + this particular sort of instrument.”</p> + + <p>“Maybe so, but I’ve done some + more thinking since then.” Gusterson’s + voice grew a trifle solemn. + “Inner-directed worthwhile thinkin’. + Fay, when a man forgets to + do something, it’s because he + really doesn’t want to do it or + because he’s all roiled up down + in his unconscious. He ought to + take it as a danger signal and + investigate the roiling, not hire + himself a human or mech reminder.”</p> + + <p>“Bushwa,” Fay retorted. “In + that case you shouldn’t write + memorandums or even take + notes.”</p> + + <p>“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Gusterson + agreed lamely. “I’d have to + think that over too.”</p> + + <p>“Ha!” Fay jeered. “No, I’ll tell + you what your trouble is, Gussy. + You’re simply scared of this contraption. + You’ve loaded your + skull with horror-story nonsense + about machines sprouting minds + and taking over the world—until + you’re even scared of a simple + miniaturized and clocked recorder.” + He thrust it out.</p> + + <p>“Maybe I am,” Gusterson admitted, + controlling a flinch. “Honestly, + Fay, that thing’s got a + gleam in its eye as if it had ideas + of its own. Nasty ideas.”</p> + + <p>“Gussy, you nut, it hasn’t <em>got</em> + an eye.”</p> + + <p>“Not now, no, but it’s got the + gleam—the eye may come. It’s + the <ins title="Chesire">Cheshire</ins> cat in reverse. If + you’d step over here and look at + yourself holding it, you could see + what I mean. But I don’t think + computers <em>sprout</em> minds, Fay. I + just think they’ve <em>got</em> minds, because + they’ve got the mind elements.”</p> + + <p>“Ho, ho!” Fay mocked. “Everything + that has a material side has + a mental side,” he chanted. + “Everything that’s a body is also + a spirit. Gussy, that dubious old + metaphysical dualism went out + centuries ago.”</p> + + <p>“Maybe so,” Gusterson said, + “but we still haven’t anything but + that dubious dualism to explain + the human mind, have we? It’s a + jelly of nerve cells and it’s a + vision of the cosmos. If that isn’t + dualism, what is?”</p> + + <p>“I give up. Gussy, are you going + to try out this tickler?”</p> + + <p>“No!”</p> + + <p>“But dammit, Gussy, we made + it just for you!—practically.”</p> + + <p>“Sorry, but I’m not coming + near the thing.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page19" title="19"></a>“<ins title="’Zen">Zen</ins> come near me,” a husky + voice intoned behind them. “Tonight + I vant a man.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Standing</span> in the door was + something slim in a short + silver sheath. It had golden bangs + and the haughtiest snub-nosed + face in the world. It slunk toward + them.</p> + + <p>“My God, Vina Vidarsson!” + Gusterson yelled.</p> + + <p>“Daisy, that’s terrific,” Fay applauded, + going up to her.</p> + + <p>She bumped him aside with a + swing of her hips, continuing to + advance. “Not you, Ratty,” she + said throatily. “I vant a real + man.”</p> + + <p>“Fay, I suggested Vina Vidarsson’s + face for the beauty mask,” + Gusterson said, walking around + his wife and shaking a finger. + “Don’t tell me Trix just happened + to think of that too.”</p> + + <p>“What else could they think + of?” Fay laughed. “This season + sex means VV and nobody else.” + An odd little grin flicked his lips, + a tic traveled up his face and his + body twitched slightly. “Say, folks, + I’m going to have to be leaving. + It’s exactly fifteen minutes to + Second Curfew. Last time I had + to run and I got heartburn. When + <em>are</em> you people going to move + downstairs? I’ll leave Tickler, + Gussy. Play around with it and + get used to it. ’By now.”</p> + + <p>“Hey, Fay,” Gusterson called + curiously, “have you developed + absolute time sense?”</p> + + <p>Fay grinned a big grin from + the doorway—almost too big a + grin for so small a man. “I didn’t + need to,” he said softly, patting + his right shoulder. “My tickler + told me.”</p> + + <p>He closed the door behind him.</p> + + <p>As side-by-side they watched + him strut sedately across the + murky chilly-looking park, Gusterson + mused, “So the little devil + had one of those nonsense-gadgets + on all the time and I never noticed. + Can you beat that?” Something + drew across the violet-tinged + stars a short bright line that + quickly faded. “What’s that?” + Gusterson asked gloomily. “Next + to last stage of missile-here?”</p> + + <p>“Won’t you settle for an old-fashioned + shooting star?” Daisy + asked softly. The (wettable) velvet + lips of the mask made even + her natural voice sound different. + She reached a hand back of her + neck to pull the thing off.</p> + + <p>“Hey, don’t do that,” Gusterson + protested in a hurt voice. + “Not for a while anyway.”</p> + + <p>“Hokay!” she said harshly, + turning on him. “Zen down on + your knees, dog!”</p> + + <h2>III</h2> + + <p><span class="first_word">It was</span> a fortnight and Gusterson + was loping down the home + stretch on his 40,000-word insanity + <a class="pagenum" id="page20" title="20"></a>novel before Fay dropped + in again, this time promptly at + high noon.</p> + + <p>Normally Fay cringed his + shoulders a trifle and was inclined + to slither, but now he + strode aggressively, his legs scissoring + in a fast, low goosestep. He + whipped off the sunglasses that + all moles wore topside by day + and began to pound Gusterson on + the back while calling boisterously, + “How are you, Gussy Old + Boy, Old Boy?”</p> + + <p>Daisy came in from the kitchen + to see why Gusterson was + choking. She was instantly grabbed + and violently bussed to the + accompaniment of, “Hiya, Gorgeous! + Yum-yum! How about ad-libbing + that some weekend?”</p> + + <p>She stared at Fay dazedly, + rasping the back of her hand + across her mouth, while Gusterson + yelled, “Quit that! What’s got + into you, Fay? Have they transferred + you out of R & D to Company + Morale? Do they line up + all the secretaries at roll call and + make you give them an eight-hour + energizing kiss?”</p> + + <p>“Ha, wouldn’t you like to + know?<ins class="close quote missing">”</ins> Fay retorted. He grinned, + twitched jumpingly, held still a + moment, then hustled over to the + far wall. “Look out there,” he + rapped, pointing through the violet + glass at a gap between the two + nearest old skyscraper apartments. + “In thirty seconds you’ll + see them test the new needle + bomb at the other end of Lake + Erie. It’s educational.” He began + to count off seconds, vigorously + semaphoring his arm. “… Two + … three … Gussy, I’ve put + through a voucher for two yards + for you. Budgeting squawked, but + I pressured ’em.”</p> + + <p>Daisy squealed, “Yards!—are + those dollar thousands?” while + Gusterson was asking, “Then + you’re marketing the tickler?”</p> + + <p>“Yes. Yes,” Fay replied to + them in turn. “… Nine … + ten …” Again he grinned and + twitched. “Time for noon Com-staff,” + he announced staccato. + “Pardon the hush box.” He + whipped a pancake phone from + under his coat, clapped it over his + face and spoke fiercely but inaudibly + into it, continuing to semaphore. + Suddenly he thrust the + phone away. “Twenty-nine … + thirty … Thar she blows!”</p> + + <p>An incandescent streak shot up + the sky from a little above the + far horizon and a doubly dazzling + point of light appeared just above + the top of it, with the effect of + God dotting an “i”.</p> + + <p>“Ha, that’ll skewer espionage + satellites like swatting flies!” Fay + proclaimed as the portent faded. + “Bracing! Gussy, where’s your + tickler? I’ve got a new spool for + it that’ll razzle-dazzle you.”</p> + + <p>“I’ll bet,” Gusterson said drily. + “Daisy?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page21" title="21"></a>“You gave it to the kids and + they got to fooling with it and + broke it.”</p> + + <p>“No matter,” Fay told them + with a large sidewise sweep of + his hand. “Better you wait for the + new model. It’s a six-way improvement.”</p> + + <p>“So I gather,” Gusterson said, + eyeing him speculatively. “Does + it automatically inject you with + cocaine? A fix every hour on the + second?”</p> + + <p>“Ha-ha, joke. Gussy, it achieves + the same effect without using any + dope at all. Listen: a tickler reminds + you of your duties and opportunities—your + chances for + happiness and success! What’s + the obvious next step?”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“Throw</span> it out the window. + By the way, how do you do + that when you’re underground?”</p> + + <p>“We have hi-speed garbage + boosts. The obvious next step is + you give the tickler a heart. It + not only tells you, it warmly persuades + you. It doesn’t just say, + ‘Turn on the TV Channel Two, + Joyce program,’ it <em>brills</em> at you, + ‘Kid, Old Kid, race for the TV + and flip that Two Switch! There’s + a great show coming through the + pipes this second plus ten—you’ll + enjoy the hell out of yourself! + Grab a ticket to <ins title="ecstacy">ecstasy</ins>!’”</p> + + <p>“My God,” Gusterson gasped, + “are those the kind of jolts it’s + giving you now?”</p> + + <p>“Don’t you get it, Gussy? You + never load your tickler except + when you’re feeling buoyantly + enthusiastic. You don’t just tell + yourself what to do hour by hour + next week, you sell yourself on + it. That way you not only make + doubly sure you’ll obey instructions + but you constantly reinoculate + yourself with your own enthusiasm.”</p> + + <p>“I can’t stand myself when I’m + that enthusiastic,” Gusterson said. + “I feel ashamed for hours afterwards.”</p> + + <p>“You’re warped—all this + lonely sky-life. What’s more, + Gussy, think how still more persuasive + some of those instructions + would be if they came to a man + in his best girl’s most bedroomy + voice, or his doctor’s or psycher’s + if it’s that sort of thing—or + Vina Vidarsson’s! By the way, + Daze, don’t wear that beauty + mask outside. It’s a grand misdemeanor + ever since ten thousand + teen-agers rioted through + Tunnel-Mart wearing them. And + VV’s sueing Trix.”</p> + + <p>“No chance of that,” Daisy said. + “Gusterson got excited and bit + off the nose.” She pinched her + own delicately.</p> + + <p>“I’d no more obey my enthusiastic + self,” Gusterson was brooding, + “than I’d obey a Napoleon + drunk on his own brandy or a + hopped-up St. Francis. Reinoculated + with my own enthusiasm? + <a class="pagenum" id="page22" title="22"></a>I’d die just like from snake-bite!”</p> + + <p>“Warped, I said,” Fay dogmatized, + stamping around. “Gussy, + having the instructions persuasive + instead of neutral turned out + to be only the opening wedge. + The next step wasn’t so obvious, + but I saw it. Using subliminal + verbal stimuli in his tickler, a + man can be given constant supportive + euphoric therapy 24 + hours a day! And it makes use + of all that empty wire. We’ve revived + the ideas of a pioneer dynamic + psycher named Dr. Coué. + For instance, right now my tickler + is saying to me—in tones too + soft to reach my conscious mind, + but do they stab into the unconscious!—‘Day + by day in every + way I’m getting sharper and + sharper.’ It alternates that with + ‘gutsier and gutsier’ and … well, + forget that. Coué mostly used + ‘better and better’ but that seems + too general. And every hundredth + time it says them out loud + and the tickler <ins title="give">gives</ins> me a brush—just + a faint cootch—to make + sure I’m keeping in touch.”</p> + + <p>“That third word-pair,” Daisy + wondered, feeling her mouth + reminiscently. “Could I guess?”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Gusterson’s</span> eyes had been + growing wider and wider. + “Fay,” he said, “I could no more + use my mind for anything if I + knew all that was going on in my + inner ear than if I were being + brushed down with brooms by + three witches. Look here,” he said + with loud authority, “you got to + stop all this—it’s crazy. Fay, if + Micro’ll junk the tickler, I’ll + think you up something else to + invent—something real good.”</p> + + <p>“Your inventing days are + over,” Fay brilled gleefully. “I + mean, you’ll never equal your + masterpiece.”</p> + + <p>“How about,” Gusterson bellowed, + “an anti-individual guided + missile? The physicists have got + small-scale antigravity good + enough to float and fly something + the size of a hand grenade. + I can smell that even though it’s + a back-of-the-safe military secret. + Well, how about keying such a + missile to a man’s finger-prints—or + brainwaves, maybe, or his + unique smell!—so it can spot + and follow him around <ins title="the">then</ins> target + in on him, without harming anyone + else? Long-distance assassination—and + the stinkingest gets + it! Or you could simply load it + with some disgusting goo and key + it to teen-agers as a group—that’d + take care of them. Fay, + doesn’t it give you a rich warm + kick to think of my midget missiles + buzzing around in your tunnels, + seeking out evil-doers, like + a swarm of angry wasps or angelic + bumblebees?”</p> + + <p>“You’re not luring me down + any side trails,” Fay said laughingly. + He grinned and twitched, + <a class="pagenum" id="page23" title="23"></a>then hurried toward the opposite + wall, motioning them to follow. + Outside, about a hundred yards + beyond the purple glass, rose another + ancient glass-walled apartment + skyscraper. Beyond, Lake + Erie rippled glintingly.</p> + + <p>“Another bomb-test?” Gusterson + asked.</p> + + <p>Fay pointed at the building. + “Tomorrow,” he announced, “a + modern factory, devoted solely to + the manufacture of ticklers, will + be erected on that site.”</p> + + <p>“You mean one of those windowless + phallic eyesores?” Gusterson + demanded. “Fay, you people + aren’t even consistent. You’ve + got all your homes underground. + Why not your factories?”</p> + + <p>“Sh! Not enough room. And + night missiles are scarier.”</p> + + <p>“I know that building’s been + empty for a year,” Daisy said uneasily, + “but how—?”</p> + + <p>“Sh! Watch! <em>Now!</em>”</p> + + <p>The looming building seemed + to blur or fuzz for a moment. + Then it was as if the lake’s bright + ripples had invaded the old glass + a hundred yards away. Wavelets + chased themselves up and down + the gleaming walls, became higher, + higher … and then suddenly + the glass cracked all over to tiny + fragments and fell away, to be + followed quickly by fragmented + concrete and plastic and plastic + piping, until all that was left was + the nude steel framework, vibrating + so rapidly as to be almost invisible + against the gleaming lake.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Daisy covered</span> her ears, + but there was no explosion, + only a long-drawn-out low crash + as the fragments hit twenty floors + below and dust whooshed out + sideways.</p> + + <p>“Spectacular!” Fay summed + up. “Knew you’d enjoy it. That + little trick was first conceived by + the great Tesla during his last + fruity years. Research discovered + it in his biog—we just made the + dream come true. A tiny resonance + device you could carry in + your belt-bag attunes itself to the + natural harmonic of a structure + and then increases amplitude by + tiny pushes exactly in time. Just + like soldiers marching in step can + break down a bridge, only this is + as if it were being done by one + marching ant.” He pointed at the + naked framework appearing out + of its own blur and said, “We’ll + be able to hang the factory on + that. If not, we’ll whip a mega-current + through it and vaporize + it. No question the micro-resonator + is the neatest sweetest wrecking + device going. You can expect + a lot more of this sort of efficiency + now that mankind has the + tickler to enable him to use his + full potential. What’s the matter, + folks?”</p> + + <p>Daisy was staring around the + violet-walled room with dumb + <a class="pagenum" id="page24" title="24"></a>mistrust. Her hands were trembling.</p> + + <p>“You don’t have to worry,” + Fay assured her with an understanding + laugh. “This building’s + safe for a month more at least.” + Suddenly he grimaced and + leaped a foot in the air. He raised + a clawed hand to scratch his + shoulder but managed to check + the movement. “Got to beat it, + folks,” he announced tersely. “My + tickler gave me the grand + cootch.”</p> + + <p>“Don’t go yet,” Gusterson + called, rousing himself with a + shudder which he immediately + explained: “I just had the illusion + that if I shook myself all my + flesh and guts would fall off my + shimmying skeleton, Brr! Fay, + before you and Micro go off half + cocked, I want you to know + there’s one insuperable objection + to the tickler as a mass-market + item. The average man or woman + won’t go to the considerable time + and trouble it must take to load + a tickler. He simply hasn’t got + the compulsive orderliness and + willingness to plan that it requires.”</p> + + <p>“We thought of that weeks + ago,” Fay rapped, his hand on the + door. “Every tickler spool that + goes to market is patterned like + wallpaper with one of five designs + of suitable subliminal supportive + euphoric material. ‘Ittier + and ittier,’ ‘viriler and viriler’—you + know. The buyer is robot-interviewed + for an hour, his personalized + daily routine laid out + and thereafter templated on his + weekly spool. He’s strongly urged + next to take his tickler to his doctor + and psycher for further instruction-imposition. + We’ve been + working with the medical profession + from the start. They love + the tickler because it’ll remind + people to take their medicine on + the dot … and rest and eat and + go to sleep just when and how + doc says. This is a big operation, + Gussy—a biiiiiiig operation! ’By!”</p> + + <p>Daisy hurried to the wall to + watch him cross the park. Deep + down she was a wee bit worried + that he might linger to attach a + micro-resonator to <em>this</em> building + and she wanted to time him. But + Gusterson settled down to his + typewriter and began to bat + away.</p> + + <p>“I want to have another novel + started,” he explained to her, “before + the ant marches across this + building in about four and a half + weeks … or a million sharp little + gutsy guys come swarming + out of the ground and heave it + into Lake Erie.”</p> + + <h2>IV</h2> + + <p><span class="first_word">Early next</span> morning windowless + walls began to crawl + up the stripped skyscraper between + them and the lake. Daisy + <a class="pagenum" id="page25" title="25"></a>pulled the black-out curtains on + that side. For a day or two longer + their thoughts and conversations + were haunted by Gusterson’s + vague sardonic visions of a horde + of tickler-energized moles pouring + up out of the tunnels to tear + down the remaining trees, tank + the atmosphere and perhaps + somehow dismantle the stars—at + least on this side of the world—but + then they both settled + back into their customary easy-going + routines. Gusterson typed. + Daisy made her daily shopping + trip to a little topside daytime + store and started painting a mural + on the floor of the empty + apartment next theirs but one.</p> + + <p>“We ought to lasso some neighbors,” + she suggested once. “I need + somebody to hold my brushes + and admire. How about you making + a trip below at the cocktail + hours, Gusterson, and picking up + a couple of girls for a starter? + Flash the old viriler charm, + cootch them up a bit, emphasize + the delights of high living, but + make sure they’re compatible + roommates. You could pick up + that two-yard check from Micro + at the same time.”</p> + + <p>“You’re an immoral money-ravenous + wench,” Gusterson said + absently, trying to dream of an + insanity beyond insanity that + would make his next novel a real + id-rousing best-vender.</p> + + <p>“If that’s your vision of me, + you shouldn’t have chewed up + the VV mask.”</p> + + <p>“I’d really prefer you with + green stripes,” he told her. “But + stripes, spots, or sun-bathing, + you’re better than those cocktail + moles.”</p> + + <p>Actually both of them acutely + disliked going below. They much + preferred to perch in their eyrie + and watch the people of Cleveland + Depths, as they privately + called the local sub-suburb, rush + up out of the shelters at dawn to + work in the concrete fields and + windowless factories, make their + daytime jet trips and freeway + jaunts, do their noon-hour and + coffee-break guerrilla practice, + and then go scurrying back at + twilight to the atomic-proof, + brightly lit, vastly exciting, claustrophobic + caves.</p> + + <p>Fay and his projects began + once more to seem dreamlike, + though Gusterson did run across + a cryptic advertisement for ticklers + in <em>The Manchester Guardian</em>, + which he got daily by facsimile. + Their three children reported + similar ads, of no interest + to young fry, on the TV and one + afternoon they came home with + the startling news that the monitors + at their subsurface school + had been issued ticklers. On + sharp interrogation by Gusterson, + however, it appeared that + these last were not ticklers but + merely two-way radios linked to + <a class="pagenum" id="page26" title="26"></a>the school police station transmitter.</p> + + <div class="image"> + <img src="images/illo-2.jpg" width="400" height="274" alt="A man looks at another man who has a small electronic device on his shoulder and a wire going into his ear." /> + </div> + + <p>“Which is bad enough,” Gusterson + commented later to Daisy. + “But it’d be even dirtier to think + of those clock-watching superegos + being strapped to kids’ + shoulders. Can you imagine Huck + Finn with a tickler, tellin’ him + when to tie up the raft to a tow-head + and when to take a swim?”</p> + + <p>“I bet Fay could,” Daisy + countered. “When’s he going to + bring you that check, anyhow? + Iago wants a jetcycle and I + promised Imogene a Vina Kit + and then Claudius’ll have to have + something.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson scowled thoughtfully. + “You know, Daze,” he said, + “I got a feeling Fay’s in the hospital, + all narcotized up and being + fed intravenously. The way he + was jumping around last time, + that tickler was going to cootch + him to pieces in a week.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">As if to</span> refute this intuition, + Fay turned up that very + evening. The lights were dim. + Something had gone wrong with + the building’s old transformer + and, pending repairs, the two remaining + occupied apartments + were making do with batteries, + which turned bright globes to + mysterious amber candles and + made Gusterson’s ancient typewriter + operate sluggishly.</p> + + <p>Fay’s manner was subdued or + <a class="pagenum" id="page27" title="27"></a>at least closely controlled and + for a moment Gusterson thought + he’d shed his tickler. Then the + little man came out of the shadows + and Gusterson saw the large + bulge on his right shoulder.</p> + + <div class="image"> + <img src="images/illo-3.jpg" width="400" height="273" alt="A rather sexy drawing of a well-endowed woman in a tight-fitting dress putting on a face-shaped mask while a man looks on." /> + </div> + + <p>“Yes, we had to up it a bit + sizewise,” Fay explained in + clipped tones. “Additional super-features. + While brilliantly successful + on the whole, the subliminal + euphorics were a shade + too effective. Several hundred + users went hoppity manic. We + gentled the cootch and qualified + the subliminals—you know, + ‘Day by day in every way I’m + getting sharper <em>and more serene</em>’—but + a stabilizing influence was + still needed, so after a top-level + conference we decided to combine + Tickler with Moodmaster.”</p> + + <p>“My God,” Gusterson interjected, + “do they have a machine + now that does that?”</p> + + <p>“Of course. They’ve been using + them on ex-mental patients for + years.”</p> + + <p>“I just don’t keep up with + progress,” Gusterson said, shaking + his head bleakly. “I’m falling + behind on all fronts.”</p> + + <p>“You ought to have your tickler + remind you to read Science + Service releases,” Fay told him. + “Or simply instruct it to scan the + releases and—no, that’s still in + research.” He looked at Gusterson’s + shoulder and his eyes widened. + “You’re not wearing the + <a class="pagenum" id="page28" title="28"></a>new-model tickler I sent you,” + he said accusingly.</p> + + <p>“I never got it,” Gusterson assured + him. “Postmen deliver + <ins title="top-side">topside</ins> mail and parcels by + throwing them on the high-speed + garbage boosts and hoping a tornado + will blow them to the right + addresses.” Then he added helpfully, + “Maybe the Russians stole + it while it was riding the whirlwinds.”</p> + + <p>“That’s not a suitable topic for + jesting,” Fay frowned. “We’re + hoping that Tickler will mobilize + the full potential of the Free + World for the first time in history. + Gusterson, you are going to + have to wear a ticky-tick. It’s becoming + impossible for a man to + get through modern life without + one.”</p> + + <p>“Maybe I will,” Gusterson said + appeasingly, “but right now tell + me about Moodmaster. I want to + put it in my new insanity novel.”</p> + + <p>Fay shook his head. “Your + readers will just think you’re behind + the times. If you use it, + underplay it. But anyhow, Moodmaster + is a simple physiotherapy + engine that monitors bloodstream + chemicals and body electricity. It + ties directly into the bloodstream, + keeping blood, sugar, et + cetera, at optimum levels and injecting + euphrin or depressin as + necessary—and occasionally a + touch of extra adrenaline, as during + work emergencies.”</p> + + <p>“Is it painful?” Daisy called + from the bedroom.</p> + + <p>“Excruciating,” Gusterson called + back. “Excuse it, please,” he + grinned at Fay. “Hey, didn’t I + suggest cocaine injections last + time I saw you?”</p> + + <p>“So you did,” Fay agreed flatly. + “Oh by the way, Gussy, here’s + that check for a yard I promised + you. Micro doesn’t muzzle the + ox.”</p> + + <p>“Hooray!” Daisy cheered faintly.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“I thought</span> you said it was + going to be for two.” Gusterson + complained.</p> + + <p>“Budgeting always forces a + last-minute compromise,” Fay + shrugged. “You have to learn to + accept those things.”</p> + + <p>“I love accepting money and + I’m glad any time for three feet,” + Daisy called agreeably. “Six feet + might make me wonder if I + weren’t an insect, but getting a + yard just makes me feel like a + gangster’s moll.”</p> + + <p>“Want to come out and gloat + over the yard paper, Toots, and + stuff it in your diamond-embroidered + net stocking top?” Gusterson + called back.</p> + + <p>“No, I’m doing something to + that portion of me just now. But + hang onto the yard, Gusterson.”</p> + + <p>“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” he assured + her. Then, turning back to Fay, + “So you’ve taken the Dr. Coué + <a class="pagenum" id="page29" title="29"></a>repeating out of the tickler?”</p> + + <p>“Oh, no. Just balanced it off + with depressin. The subliminals + are still a prime sales-point. All + the tickler features are cumulative, + Gussy. You’re still underestimating + the scope of the device.”</p> + + <p>“I guess I am. What’s this + ‘work-emergencies’ business? If + you’re using the tickler to inject + drugs into workers to keep them + going, that’s really just my cocaine + suggestion modernized and + I’m putting in for another thou. + Hundreds of years ago the South + American Indians chewed coca + leaves to kill fatigue sensations.”</p> + + <p>“That so? Interesting—and + it proves priority for the Indians, + doesn’t it? I’ll make a try for you, + Gussy, but don’t expect anything.” + He cleared his throat, his + eyes grew distant and, turning + his head a little to the right, he + enunciated sharply, “Pooh-Bah. + Time: Inst oh five. One oh five + seven. Oh oh. Record: Gussy + coca thou budget. Cut.” He explained, + “We got a voice-cued + setter now on the deluxe models. + You can record a memo to yourself + without taking off your shirt. + Incidentally, I use the ends of the + hours for trifle-memos. I’ve already + used up the fifty-nines and + eights for tomorrow and started + on the fifty-sevens.”</p> + + <p>“I understood most of your + memo,” Gusterson told him gruffly. + “The last ‘Oh oh’ was for seconds, + wasn’t it? Now I call that + crude—why not microseconds + too? But how do you remember + where you’ve made a memo so + you don’t rerecord over it? After + all, you’re rerecording over the + wallpaper all the time.”</p> + + <p>“Tickler beeps and then hunts + for the nearest information-free + space.”</p> + + <p>“I see. And what’s the Pooh-Bah + for?”</p> + + <p>Fay smiled. “Cut. My password + for activating the setter, so + it won’t respond to chance numerals + it overhears.”</p> + + <p>“But why Pooh-Bah?”</p> + + <p>Fay grinned. “Cut. And you a + writer. It’s a literary reference, + Gussy. Pooh-Bah (cut!) was + Lord High Everything Else in + <em>The Mikado</em>. He had a little list + and nothing on it would ever be + missed.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“Oh, yeah</span>,” Gusterson remembered, + glowering. “As + I recall it, all that went on that + list was the names of people who + were slated to have their heads + chopped off by Ko-Ko. Better + watch your step, Shorty. It may + be a back-handed omen. Maybe + all those workers you’re puttin’ + ticklers on to pump them full of + adrenaline so they’ll overwork + without noticin’ it will revolt and + come out some day choppin’ for + your head.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page30" title="30"></a>“Spare me the Marxist mythology,” + Fay protested. “Gussy, + you’ve got a completely wrong + slant on Tickler. It’s true that + most of our mass sales so far, bar + government and army, have been + to large companies purchasing + for their employees—”</p> + + <p>“Ah-ha!”</p> + + <p>“—but that’s because there’s + nothing like a tickler for teaching + a new man his job. It tells + him from instant to instant what + he must do—while he’s already + on the job and without disturbing + other workers. Magnetizing a + wire with a job pattern is the + easiest thing going. And you’d be + astonished what the subliminals + do for employee morale. It’s this + way, Gussy: most people are too + improvident and unimaginative + to see in advance the advantages + of ticklers. They buy one because + the company strongly suggests it + and payment is on easy installments + withheld from salary. + They find a tickler makes the + work day go easier. The little fellow + perched on your shoulder is + a friend exuding comfort and + good advice. The first thing he’s + set to say is ‘Take it easy, pal.’</p> + + <p>“Within a week they’re wearing + their tickler 24 hours a day—and + buying a tickler for the + wife, so she’ll remember to comb + her hair and smile real pretty + and cook favorite dishes.”</p> + + <p>“I get it, Fay,” Gusterson cut + in. “The tickler is the newest fad + for increasing worker efficiency. + Once, I read somewheres, it was + salt tablets. They had salt-tablet + dispensers everywhere, even in + air-conditioned offices where + there wasn’t a moist armpit twice + a year and the gals sweat only + champagne. A decade later people + wondered what all those + dusty white pills were for. Sometimes + they were mistook for tranquilizers. + It’ll be the same way + with ticklers. Somebody’ll open + a musty closet and see jumbled + heaps of these gripping-hand silvery + gadgets gathering dust curls + and—”</p> + + <p>“They will not!” Fay protested + vehemently. “Ticklers are not a + fad—they’re history-changers, + they’re Free-World revolutionary! + Why, before Micro Systems + put a single one on the market, + we’d made it a rule that every + Micro employee had to wear one! + If that’s not having supreme confidence + in a product—”</p> + + <p>“Every employee except the + top executives, of course,” Gusterson + interrupted jeeringly. “And + that’s not demoting you, Fay. + As the R & D chief most closely + involved, you’d naturally have to + show special enthusiasm.”</p> + + <p>“But you’re wrong there, Gussy,” + Fay crowed. “Man for man, + our top executives have been + more enthusiastic about their + personal ticklers than any other + <a class="pagenum" id="page31" title="31"></a>class of worker in the whole outfit.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson slumped and shook + his head. “If that’s the case,” he + said darkly, “maybe mankind deserves + the tickler.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“I’ll say it</span> does!” Fay + agreed loudly without + thinking. Then, “Oh, can the + carping, Gussy. Tickler’s a great + invention. Don’t deprecate it just + because you had something to do + with its genesis. You’re going to + have to get in the swim and wear + one.”</p> + + <p>“Maybe I’d rather drown horribly.”</p> + + <p>“Can the gloom-talk too! Gussy, + I said it before and I say it + again, you’re just scared of this + new thing. Why, you’ve even got + the drapes pulled so you won’t + have to look at the tickler factory.”</p> + + <p>“Yes, I am scared,” Gusterson + said. “Really sca … AWP!”</p> + + <p>Fay whirled around. Daisy was + standing in the bedroom doorway, + wearing the short silver + sheath. This time there was no + mask, but her bobbed hair was + glitteringly silvered, while her + legs, arms, hands, neck, face—every + bit of her exposed skin—was + painted with beautifully + even vertical green stripes.</p> + + <p>“I did it as a surprise for Gusterson,” + she explained to Fay. + “He says he likes me this way. + The green glop’s supposed to be + smudgeproof.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson did not comment. + His face had a rapt expression. + “I’ll tell you why your tickler’s + so popular, Fay,” he said softly. + “It’s not because it backstops the + memory or because it boosts the + ego with subliminals. It’s because + it takes the hook out of a guy, it + takes over the job of withstanding + the pressure of living. See, + Fay, here are all these little guys + in this subterranean rat race with + atomic-death squares and chromium-plated + reward squares and + enough money if you pass Go + almost to get to Go again—and + a million million rules of the + game to keep in mind. Well, + here’s this one little guy and + every morning he wakes up + there’s all these things he’s got + to keep in mind to do or he’ll + lose his turn three times in a row + and maybe a terrible black rook + in iron armor’ll loom up and bang + him off the chessboard. But now, + look, now he’s got his tickler and + he tells his sweet silver tickler + all these things and the tickler’s + got to remember them. Of course + he’ll have to do them eventually + but meanwhile the pressure’s off + him, the hook’s out of his short + hairs. He’s shifted the responsibility….”</p> + + <p>“Well, what’s so bad about + that?” Fay broke in loudly. + “What’s wrong with taking the + <a class="pagenum" id="page32" title="32"></a>pressure off little guys? Why + shouldn’t Tickler be a super-ego + surrogate? Micro’s Motivations + chief noticed that positive feature + straight off and scored it + three pluses. Besides, it’s nothing + but a gaudy way of saying that + Tickler backstops the memory. + Seriously, Gussy, what’s so bad + about it?”</p> + + <p>“I don’t know,” Gusterson said + slowly, his eyes still far away. “I + just know it feels bad to me.” He + crinkled his big forehead. “Well + for one thing,” he said, “it means + that a man’s taking orders from + something else. He’s got a kind + of master. He’s sinking back into + a slave psychology.”</p> + + <p>“He’s only taking orders from + himself,” Fay countered disgustedly. + “Tickler’s just a mech + reminder, a notebook, in essence + no more than the back of an old + envelope. It’s no master.”</p> + + <p>“Are you absolutely sure of + that?” Gusterson asked quietly.</p> + + <p>“Why, Gussy, you big oaf—” + Fay began heatedly. Suddenly + his features quirked and he + twitched. “’Scuse me, folks,” he + said rapidly, heading for the + door, “but my tickler told me I + gotta go.”</p> + + <p>“Hey Fay, don’t you mean you + told your tickler to tell you when + it was time to go?” Gusterson + called after him.</p> + + <p>Fay looked back in the doorway. + He wet his lips, his eyes + moved from side to side. “I’m not + quite sure,” he said in an odd + strained voice and darted out.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Gusterson</span> stared for some + seconds at the pattern of + emptiness Fay had left. Then he + shivered. Then he shrugged. “I + must be slipping,” he muttered. + “I never even suggested something + for him to invent.” Then he + looked around at Daisy, who was + still standing poker-faced in her + doorway.</p> + + <p>“Hey, you look like something + out of the Arabian Nights,” he + told her. “Are you supposed to + be anything special? How far do + those stripes go, anyway?”</p> + + <p>“You could probably find out,” + she told him coolly. “All you have + to do is kill me a dragon or two + first.”</p> + + <p>He studied her. “My God,” he + said reverently, “I really have all + the fun in life. What do I do to + deserve this?”</p> + + <p>“You’ve got a big gun,” she + told him, “and you go out in the + world with it and hold up big + companies and take yards and + yards of money away from them + in rolls like ribbon and bring it + all home to me.”</p> + + <p>“Don’t say that about the gun + again,” he said. “Don’t whisper it, + don’t even think it. I’ve got one, + dammit—thirty-eight caliber, + yet—and I don’t want some + psionic monitor with two-way + <a class="pagenum" id="page33" title="33"></a>clairaudience they haven’t told + me about catching the whisper + and coming to take the gun away + from us. It’s one of the few individuality + symbols we’ve got left.”</p> + + <p>Suddenly Daisy whirled away + from the door, spun three times + so that her silvered hair stood + out like a metal coolie hat, and + sank to a curtsey in the middle + of the room.</p> + + <p>“I’ve just thought of what I + am,” she announced, fluttering + her eyelashes at him. “I’m a sweet + silver tickler with green stripes.”</p> + + <h2>V</h2> + + <p><span class="first_word">Next</span> day Daisy cashed the + Micro check for ten hundred + silver smackers, which she + hid in a broken radionic coffee + urn. Gusterson sold his insanity + novel and started a new one + about a mad medic with a hiccupy + hysterical chuckle, who gimmicked + Moodmasters to turn + mental patients into nymphomaniacs, + mass murderers and + compulsive saints. But this time + he couldn’t get Fay out of his + mind, or the last chilling words + the nervous little man had spoken.</p> + + <p>For that matter, he couldn’t + blank the underground out of his + mind as effectively as usually. + He had the feeling that a new + kind of mole was loose in the + burrows and that the ground at + the foot of their skyscraper might + start humping up any minute.</p> + + <p>Toward the end of one afternoon + he tucked a half dozen newly + typed sheets in his pocket, + shrouded his typer, went to the + hatrack and took down his prize: + a miner’s hard-top cap with electric + headlamp.</p> + + <p>“Goin’ below, Cap’n,” he shouted + toward the kitchen.</p> + + <p>“Be back for second dog + watch,” Daisy replied. “Remember + what I told you about lassoing + me some art-conscious girl + neighbors.”</p> + + <p>“Only if I meet a piebald one + with a taste for Scotch—or maybe + a pearl gray biped jaguar with + violet spots,” Gusterson told her, + clapping on the cap with a We-<ins title="Who Are">Who-Are</ins>-About-To-Die gesture.</p> + + <p>Halfway across the park to the + escalator bunker Gusterson’s + heart began to tick. He resolutely + switched on his headlamp.</p> + + <p>As he’d known it would, the + hatch robot whirred an extra + and higher-pitched ten seconds + when it came to his topside address, + but it ultimately dilated + the hatch for him, first handing + him a claim check for his ID card.</p> + + <p>Gusterson’s heart was ticking + like a sledgehammer by now. He + hopped clumsily onto the escalator, + clutched the moving guard + rail to either side, then shut his + eyes as the steps went over the + edge and became what felt like + <a class="pagenum" id="page34" title="34"></a>vertical. An instant later he + forced his eyes open, unclipped a + hand from the rail and touched + the second switch beside his headlamp, + which instantly began to + blink whitely, as if he were a + civilian plane flying into a nest + of military jobs.</p> + + <p>With a further effort he kept + his eyes open and flinchingly surveyed + the scene around him. + After zigging through a bombproof + half-furlong of roof, he was + dropping into a large twilit cave. + The blue-black ceiling twinkled + with stars. The walls were pierced + at floor level by a dozen archways + with busy niche stores and + glowing advertisements crowded + between them. From the archways + some three dozen slidewalks + curved out, tangenting off each + other in a bewildering multiple + cloverleaf. The slidewalks were + packed with people, traveling motionless + like purposeful statues or + pivoting with practiced grace + from one slidewalk to another, + like a thousand toreros doing veronicas.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">The</span> slidewalks were moving + faster than he recalled from + his last venture underground and + at the same time the whole pedestrian + concourse was quieter than + he remembered. It was as if the + five thousand or so moles in view + were all listening—for what? + But there was something else + that had changed about them—a + change that he couldn’t for a + moment define, or unconsciously + didn’t want to. Clothing style? + No … My God, they weren’t all + wearing identical monster masks? + No … Hair color?… Well….</p> + + <p>He was studying them so intently + that he forgot his escalator + was landing. He came off it with + a heel-jarring stumble and bumped + into a knot of four men on the + tiny triangular hold-still. These + four at least sported a new style-wrinkle: + ribbed gray shoulder-capes + that made them look as if + their heads were poking up out + of the center of bulgy umbrellas + or giant mushrooms.</p> + + <p>One of them grabbed hold of + Gusterson and saved him from + staggering onto a slidewalk that + might have carried him to Toledo.</p> + + <p>“Gussy, you dog, you must + have esped I wanted to see you,” + Fay cried, patting him on the elbows. + “Meet Davidson and Kester + and Hazen, colleagues of + mine. We’re all Micro-men.” + Fay’s companions were staring + strangely at Gusterson’s blinking + headlamp. Fay explained rapidly, + “Mr. Gusterson is an insanity + novelist. You know, I-D.”</p> + + <p>“Inner-directed spells <em>id</em>,” Gusterson + said absently, still staring + at the interweaving crowd beyond + them, trying to figure out + what made them different from + <a class="pagenum" id="page35" title="35"></a>last trip. “Creativity fuel. Cranky. + Explodes through the parietal fissure + if you look at it cross-eyed.”</p> + + <p>“Ha-ha,” Fay laughed. “Well, + boys, I’ve found my man. How’s + the new novel perking, Gussy?”</p> + + <p>“Got my climax, I think,” Gusterson + mumbled, still peering + puzzledly around Fay at the + slidestanders. “Moodmaster’s going + to come alive. Ever occur to + you that ‘mood’ is ‘doom’ spelled + backwards? And then….” He + let his voice trail off as he realized + that Kester and Davidson + and Hazen had made their farewells + and were sliding into the + distance. He reminded himself + wryly that nobody ever wants to + hear an author talk—he’s much + too good a listener to be wasted + that way. Let’s see, was it that + everybody in the crowd had the + same facial expression…? Or + showed symptoms of the same + disease…?</p> + + <p>“I was coming to visit you, but + now you can pay me a call,” Fay + was saying. “There are two matters + I want to—”</p> + + <p>Gusterson stiffened. “My God, + <em>they’re all hunchbacked</em>!” he + yelled.</p> + + <p>“Shh! Of course they are,” Fay + whispered reprovingly. “They’re + all wearing their ticklers. But you + don’t need to be insulting about + it.”</p> + + <p>“<em>I’m gettin’ out o’ here.</em>” Gusterson + turned to flee as if from + five thousand Richard the Thirds.</p> + + <p>“Oh no you’re not,” Fay + amended, drawing him back with + one hand. Somehow, underground, + the little man seemed to + carry more weight. “You’re having + cocktails in my thinking box. + Besides, climbing a down escaladder + will give you a heart attack.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">In his</span> home habitat Gusterson + was about as easy to handle + as a rogue rhinoceros, but away + from it—and especially if underground—he + became more + like a pliable elephant. All his + bones dropped out through his + feet, as he described it to Daisy. + So now he submitted miserably + as Fay surveyed him up and + down, switched off his blinking + headlamp (“That coalminer caper + is corny, Gussy.”) and then—surprisingly—rapidly + stuffed his + belt-bag under the right shoulder + of Gusterson’s coat and buttoned + the latter to hold it in place.</p> + + <p>“So you won’t stand out,” he + explained. Another swift survey. + “You’ll do. Come on, Gussy. I got + lots to brief you on.” Three rapid + paces and then Gusterson’s feet + would have gone out from under + him except that Fay gave him a + mighty shove. The small man + sprang onto the slidewalk after + him and then they were skimming + effortlessly side by side.</p> + + <p>Gusterson felt frightened and + <a class="pagenum" id="page36" title="36"></a>twice as hunchbacked as the + slidestanders around him—morally + as well as physically.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless he countered + bravely, “I got things to brief <em>you</em> + on. I got six pages of cautions on + ti—”</p> + + <p>“Shh!” Fay stopped him. “Let’s + use my hushbox.”</p> + + <p>He drew out his pancake phone + and stretched it so that it covered + both their lower faces, like a + double yashmak. Gusterson, his + neck pushing into the ribbed + bulge of the shoulder cape so he + could be cheek to cheek with + Fay, felt horribly conspicuous, + but then he noticed that none of + the slidestanders were paying + them the least attention. The + reason for their abstraction occurred + to him. They were listening + to their ticklers! He shuddered.</p> + + <p>“I got six pages of caution on + ticklers,” he repeated into the hot, + moist quiet of the pancake phone. + “I typed ’em so I wouldn’t forget + ’em in the heat of polemicking. + I want you to read every word. + Fay, I’ve had it on my mind ever + since I started wondering whether + it was you or your tickler + made you duck out of our place + last time you were there. I want + you to—”</p> + + <p>“Ha-ha! All in good time.” In + the pancake phone Fay’s laugh + was brassy. “But I’m glad you’ve + decided to lend a hand, Gussy. + This thing is moving faaaasst. + Nationwise, adult underground + ticklerization is 90 per cent complete.”</p> + + <p>“I don’t believe that,” Gusterson + protested while glaring at the + hunchbacks around them. The + slidewalk was gliding down a low + glow-ceiling tunnel lined with + doors and advertisements. Rapt-eyed + people were pirouetting on + and off. “A thing just can’t develop + that fast, Fay. It’s against + nature.”</p> + + <p>“Ha, but we’re not in nature, + we’re in culture. The progress of + an industrial scientific culture is + geometric. It goes n-times as + many jumps as it takes. More + than geometric—exponential. + Confidentially, Micro’s Math + chief tells me we’re currently on + a fourth-power progress curve + trending into a fifth.”</p> + + <p>“You mean we’re goin’ so fast + we got to watch out we don’t + bump ourselves in the rear when + we come around again?” Gusterson + asked, scanning the tunnel + ahead for curves. “Or just shoot + straight up to infinity?”</p> + + <p>“Exactly! Of course most of the + last power and a half is due to + Tickler itself. Gussy, the tickler’s + already eliminated absenteeism, + alcoholism and aboulia in numerous + urban areas—and that’s just + one letter of the alphabet! If + Tickler doesn’t turn us into a + nation of photo-memory constant-creative-flow + <a class="pagenum" id="page37" title="37"></a>geniuses in six + months, I’ll come live topside.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“You</span> mean because a lot of + people are standing around + glassy-eyed listening to something + mumbling in their ear that + it’s a good thing?”</p> + + <p>“Gussy, you don’t know progress + when you see it. Tickler is + the greatest invention since language. + Bar none, it’s the greatest + instrument ever devised for integrating + a man into all phases of + his environment. Under the present + routine a newly purchased + tickler first goes to government + and civilian defense for primary + patterning, then to the purchaser’s + employer, then to his doctor-psycher, + then to his local bunker + captain, then to <em>him</em>. <em>Everything</em> + that’s needful for a man’s welfare + gets on the spools. Efficiency + cubed! Incidentally, Russia’s got + the tickler now. Our dip-satellites + have photographed it. It’s like + ours except the Commies wear it + on the left shoulder … but + they’re two weeks behind us developmentwise + and they’ll never + close the gap!”</p> + + <p>Gusterson reared up out of the + pancake phone to take a deep + breath. A sulky-lipped sylph-figured + girl two feet from him + twitched—medium cootch, he + judged—then fumbled in her + belt-bag for a pill and popped it + in her mouth.</p> + + <p>“Hell, the tickler’s not even efficient + yet about little things,” + Gusterson blatted, diving back + into the privacy-yashmak he was + sharing with Fay. “Whyn’t that + girl’s doctor have the Moodmaster + component of her tickler + inject her with medicine?”</p> + + <p>“Her doctor probably wants + her to have the discipline of pill-taking—or + the exercise,” Fay + answered glibly. “Look sharp + now. Here’s where we fork. I’m + taking you through Micro’s postern.”</p> + + <p>A ribbon of slidewalk split itself + from the main band and + angled off into a short alley. + Gusterson hardly felt the constant-speed + juncture as they + crossed it. Then the secondary + ribbon speeded up, carrying them + at about 30 feet a second toward + the blank concrete wall in which + the alley ended. Gusterson prepared + to jump, but Fay grabbed + him with one hand and with the + other held up toward the wall a + badge and a button. When they + were about ten feet away the + wall whipped aside, then whipped + shut behind them so fast that + Gusterson wondered momentarily + if he still had his heels and the + seat of his pants.</p> + + <p>Fay, tucking away his badge + and pancake phone, dropped the + button in Gusterson’s vest pocket. + “Use it when you leave,” he said + casually. “That is, if you leave.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page38" title="38"></a>Gusterson, who was trying to + read the Do and Don’t posters + papering the walls they were + passing, started to probe that last + sinister supposition, but just then + the ribbon slowed, a swinging + door opened and closed behind + them and they found themselves + in a luxuriously furnished thinking + box measuring at least eight + feet by five.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">“Hey</span>, this is something,” + Gusterson said appreciatively + to show he wasn’t an utter + yokel. Then, drawing on research + he’d done for period novels, + “Why, it’s as big as a Pullman + car compartment, or a first mate’s + cabin in the War of 1812. You + really must rate.”</p> + + <p>Fay nodded, smiled wanly and + sat down with a sigh on a compact + overstuffed swivel chair. He + let his arms dangle and his head + sink into his puffed shoulder + cape. Gusterson stared at him. It + was the first time he could ever + recall the little man showing fatigue.</p> + + <p>“Tickler currently does have + one serious drawback,” Fay volunteered. + “It weighs 28 pounds. + You feel it when you’ve been on + your feet a couple of hours. No + question we’re going to give the + next model that antigravity feature + you mentioned for pursuit + grenades. We’d have had it in this + model except there were so many + other things to be incorporated.” + He sighed again. “Why, the scanning + <ins title="and and">and</ins> decision-making elements + alone tripled the mass.”</p> + + <p>“Hey,” Gusterson protested, + thinking especially of the sulky-lipped + girl, “do you mean to tell + me all those other people were + toting two stone?”</p> + + <p>Fay shook his head heavily. + “They were all wearing Mark 3 + or 4. I’m wearing Mark 6,” he + said, as one might say, “I’m carrying + the genuine Cross, not one of + the balsa ones.”</p> + + <p>But then his face brightened a + little and he went on. “Of course + the new improved features make + it more than worth it … and you + hardly feel it at all at night when + you’re lying down … and if you + remember to talcum under it + twice a day, no sores develop … + at least not very big ones….”</p> + + <p>Backing away involuntarily, + Gusterson felt something prod + his right shoulderblade. Ripping + open his coat, he convulsively + plunged his hand under it and + tore out Fay’s belt-bag … and + then set it down very gently on + the top of a shallow cabinet and + relaxed with the sigh of one who + has escaped a great, if symbolic, + danger. Then he remembered + something Fay had mentioned. + He straightened again.</p> + + <p>“Hey, you said it’s got scanning + and decision-making elements. + That means your tickler thinks, + <a class="pagenum" id="page39" title="39"></a>even by your fancy standards. + And if it thinks, it’s conscious.”</p> + + <p>“Gussy,” Fay said wearily, + frowning, “all sorts of things nowadays + have S&DM elements. + Mail sorters, missiles, robot medics, + high-style mannequins, just to + name some of the Ms. They + ‘think,’ to use that <ins title="archiac">archaic</ins> word, + but it’s neither here nor there. + And they’re certainly not conscious.”</p> + + <p>“Your tickler thinks,” Gusterson + repeated stubbornly, “just + like I warned you it would. It sits + on your shoulder, ridin’ you like + you was a pony or a starved St. + Bernard, and now it thinks.”</p> + + <p>“Suppose it does?” Fay yawned. + “What of it?” He gave a rapid + sinuous one-sided shrug that + made it look for a moment as if + his left arm had three elbows. It + stuck in Gusterson’s mind, for he + had never seen Fay use such a + gesture and he wondered where + he’d picked it up. Maybe imitating + a double-jointed Micro Finance + chief? Fay yawned again + and said, “Please, Gussy, don’t + disturb me for a minute or so.” + His eyes half closed.</p> + + <p>Gusterson studied Fay’s sunken-cheeked + face and the great + puff of his shoulder cape.</p> + + <p>“Say, Fay,” he asked in a soft + voice after about five minutes, + “are you meditating?”</p> + + <p>“Why, no,” Fay responded, + starting up and then stifling another + yawn. “Just resting a bit. + I seem to get more tired these + days, somehow. You’ll have to excuse + me, Gussy. But what made + you think of meditation?”</p> + + <p>“Oh, I just got to wonderin’ in + that direction,” Gusterson said. + “You see, when you first started + to develop Tickler, it occurred to + me that there was one thing + about it that might be real good + even if you did give it S&DM + elements. It’s this: having a mech + secretary to take charge of his + obligations and routine in the real + world might allow a man to slide + into the other world, the world of + thoughts and feelings and intuitions, + and sort of ooze around in + there and accomplish things. + Know any of the people using + Tickler that way, hey?”</p> + + <p>“Of course not,” Fay denied + with a bright incredulous laugh. + “Who’d want to loaf around in an + imaginary world and take a + chance of <em>missing out on what his + tickler’s doing?</em>—I mean, on + what his tickler has in store for + him—what he’s <em>told</em> his tickler + to have in store for him.”</p> + + <p>Ignoring Gusterson’s shiver, + Fay straightened up and seemed + to brisken himself. “Ha, that + little slump did me good. A tickler + <em>makes</em> you rest, you know—it’s + one of the great things about + it. Pooh-Bah’s kinder to me than + I ever was to myself.” He buttoned + open a tiny refrigerator and + <a class="pagenum" id="page40" title="40"></a>took out two waxed cardboard + cubes and handed one to Gusterson. + “Martini? Hope you don’t + mind drinking from the carton. + Cheers. Now, Gussy old pal, there + are two matters I want to take + up with you—”</p> + + <p>“Hold it,” Gusterson said with + something of his old authority. + “There’s something I got to get + off my mind first.” He pulled the + typed pages out of his inside + pocket and straightened them. “I + told you about these,” he said. + “I want you to read them before + you do anything else. Here.”</p> + + <p>Fay looked toward the pages + and nodded, but did not take + them yet. He lifted his hands to + his throat and unhooked the + clasp of his cape, then hesitated.</p> + + <p>“You wear that thing to hide + the hump your tickler makes?” + Gusterson filled in. “You got better + taste than those other moles.”</p> + + <p>“Not to hide it, exactly,” Fay + protested, “but just so the others + won’t be jealous. I wouldn’t feel + comfortable parading a free-scanning + decision-capable Mark + 6 tickler in front of people who + can’t buy it—until it goes on + open sale at twenty-two fifteen + tonight. Lot of shelterfolk won’t + be sleeping tonight. They’ll be + queued up to trade in their old + tickler for a Mark 6 almost as + good as Pooh-Bah.”</p> + + <p>He started to jerk his hands + apart, hesitated again with an + oddly apprehensive look at the + big man, then whirled off the + cape.</p> + + <h2>VI</h2> + + <p><span class="first_word">Gusterson</span> sucked in such a + big gasp that he hiccuped. + The right shoulder of Fay’s jacket + and shirt had been cut away. + Thrusting up through the neatly + hemmed hole was a silvery gray + hump with a one-eyed turret + atop it and two multi-jointed + metal arms ending in little claws.</p> + + <p>It looked like the top half of + a pseudo-science robot—a squat + evil child robot, Gusterson told + himself, which had lost its legs + in a railway accident—and it + seemed to him that a red fleck + was moving around imperceptibly + in the huge single eye.</p> + + <p>“I’ll take that memo now,” Fay + said coolly, reaching out his + hand. He caught the rustling + sheets as they slipped from Gusterson’s + fingers, evened them up + very precisely by tapping them + on his knee … and then handed + them over his shoulder to his + tickler, which clicked its claws + around either margin and then + began rather swiftly to lift the + top sheet past its single eye at a + distance of about six inches.</p> + + <p>“The first matter I want to + take up with you, Gussy,” Fay + began, paying no attention whatsoever + to the little scene on his + <a class="pagenum" id="page41" title="41"></a>shoulder, “—or warn you about, + rather—is the imminent ticklerization + of schoolchildren, geriatrics, + convicts and topsiders. At + three zero zero tomorrow ticklers + become mandatory for all adult + shelterfolk. The mop-up operations + won’t be long in coming—in + fact, these days we find that + the square root of the estimated + time of a new development is + generally the best time estimate. + Gussy, I strongly advise you to + start wearing a tickler now. And + Daisy and your moppets. If you + heed my advice, your kids will + have the jump on your class. + Transition and conditioning are + easy, since Tickler itself sees to + it.”</p> + + <p>Pooh-Bah leafed the first page + to the back of the packet and began + lifting the second past his + eye—a little more swiftly than + the first.</p> + + <p>“I’ve got a Mark 6 tickler all + warmed up for you,” Fay pressed, + “<em>and</em> a shoulder cape. You won’t + feel one bit conspicuous.” He noticed + the direction of Gusterson’s + gaze and remarked, “Fascinating + mechanism, isn’t it? Of course 28 + pounds are a bit oppressive, but + then you have to remember it’s + only a way-station to free-floating + Mark 7 or 8.”</p> + + <p>Pooh-Bah finished page two + and began to race through page + three.</p> + + <p>“But I wanted <em>you</em> to read it,” + Gusterson said bemusedly, staring.</p> + + <p>“Pooh-Bah will do a better job + than I could,” Fay assured him. + “Get the gist without losing the + chaff.”</p> + + <p>“But dammit, it’s all about + <em>him</em>,” Gusterson said a little more + strongly. “He won’t be objective + about it.”</p> + + <p>“A better job,” Fay reiterated, + “<em>and</em> more fully objective. Pooh-Bah’s + set for full precis. Stop + worrying about it. He’s a dispassionate + machine, not a fallible, + emotionally disturbed human + misled by the will-o’-the-wisp of + consciousness. Second matter: + Micro Systems is impressed by + your contributions to Tickler and + will recruit you as a senior consultant + with a salary and thinking + box as big as my own, family + quarters to match. It’s an unheard-of + high start. Gussy, I think + you’d be a fool—”</p> + + <div class="image"><a class="pagenum" id="page42" title="42"></a> + <img src="images/illo-4.jpg" width="400" height="517" alt="A group of people look at a tower in the distance that has small objects flying around it." /> + </div> + + + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">He broke</span> off, held up a hand + for silence, and his eyes got + a listening look. Pooh-Bah had + finished page six and was holding + the packet motionless. After + about ten seconds Fay’s face + broke into a big fake smile. He + stood up, suppressing a wince, + and held out his hand. “Gussy,” + he said loudly, “I am happy to + inform you that all your fears + about Tickler are so much thistledown. + My word on it. There’s + <a class="pagenum" id="page43" title="43"></a>nothing to them at all. Pooh-Bah’s + precis, which he’s just given + to me, proves it.”</p> + + <p>“Look,” Gusterson said solemnly, + “there’s one thing I want you + to do. Purely to humor an old + friend. But I want you to do it. + <em>Read that memo yourself.</em>”</p> + + <p>“Certainly I will, Gussy,” Fay + continued in the same ebullient + tones. “I’ll read it—” he twitched + and his smile disappeared—“a + little later.”</p> + + <p>“Sure,” Gusterson said dully, + holding his hand to his stomach. + “And now if you don’t mind, Fay, + I’m goin’ home. I feel just a bit + sick. Maybe the ozone and the + other additives in your shelter + air are too heady for me. It’s been + years since I tramped through a + pine forest.”</p> + + <p>“But Gussy! You’ve hardly got + here. You haven’t even sat down. + Have another martini. Have a + seltzer pill. Have a whiff of oxy. + Have a—”</p> + + <p>“No, Fay, I’m going home right + away. I’ll think about the job + offer. <i>Remember to read that + memo.</i>”</p> + + <p>“I will, Gussy, I certainly will. + You know your way? The button + takes you through the wall. ’By, + now.”</p> + + <p>He sat down abruptly and + looked away. Gusterson pushed + through the swinging door. He + tensed himself for the step across + onto the slowly-moving reverse + ribbon. Then on a impulse he + pushed ajar the swinging door + and looked back inside.</p> + + <p>Fay was sitting as he’d left + him, apparently lost in listless + brooding. On his shoulder Pooh-Bah + was rapidly crossing and uncrossing + its little metal arms, + tearing the memo to smaller and + smaller shreds. It let the scraps + drift slowly toward the floor and + oddly writhed its three-elbowed + left arm … and then Gusterson + knew from whom, or rather from + what, Fay had copied his new + shrug.</p> + + <h2>VII</h2> + + <p><span class="first_word">When</span> Gusterson got home + toward the end of the second + dog watch, he slipped aside + from Daisy’s questions and set + the children laughing with a + graphic enactment of his slidestanding + technique and a story + about getting his head caught in + a thinking box built for a midget + physicist. After supper he played + with Imogene, Iago and Claudius + until it was their bedtime and + thereafter was unusually attentive + to Daisy, admiring her fading + green stripes, though he did + spend a while in the next apartment, + where they stored their outdoor + camping equipment.</p> + + <p>But the next morning he announced + to the children that it + was a holiday—the Feast of St. + <a class="pagenum" id="page44" title="44"></a>Gusterson—and then took Daisy + into the bedroom and told her + everything.</p> + + <p>When he’d finished she said, + “This is something I’ve got to see + for myself.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson shrugged. “If you + think you’ve got to. I say we + should head for the hills right + now. One thing I’m standing on: + the kids aren’t going back to + school.”</p> + + <p>“Agreed,” Daisy said. “But, + Gusterson, we’ve lived through a + lot of things without leaving + home altogether. We lived + through the Everybody-Six-Feet-Underground-by-Christmas + campaign + and the Robot Watchdog + craze, when you got your left foot + half chewed off. We lived through + the Venomous Bats and Indoctrinated + Saboteur Rats and the + Hypnotized Monkey Paratrooper + scares. We lived through the + Voice of Safety and Anti-Communist + Somno-Instruction and + Rightest Pills and Jet-Propelled + Vigilantes. We lived through the + Cold-Out, when you weren’t supposed + to turn on a toaster for + fear its heat would be a target + for prowl missiles and when people + with fevers were unpopular. + We lived through—”</p> + + <p>Gusterson patted her hand. + “You go below,” he said. “Come + back when you’ve decided this is + different. Come back as soon as + you can anyway. I’ll be worried + about you every minute you’re + down there.”</p> + + <p>When she was gone—in a + green suit and hat to minimize or + at least justify the effect of the + faded stripes—Gusterson doled + out to the children provender and + equipment for a camping expedition + to the next floor. Iago led + them off in stealthy Indian file. + Leaving the hall door open Gusterson + got out his .38 and cleaned + and loaded it, meanwhile concentrating + on a chess problem with + the idea of confusing a hypothetical + psionic monitor. By the time + he had hid the revolver again he + heard the elevator creaking back + up.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Daisy</span> came dragging in without + her hat, looking as if + she’d been concentrating on a + chess problem for hours herself + and just now given up. Her stripes + seemed to have vanished; then + Gusterson decided this was because + her whole complexion was + a touch green.</p> + + <p>She sat down on the edge of + the couch and said without looking + at him, “Did you tell me, + Gusterson, that everybody was + quiet and abstracted and orderly + down below, especially the ones + wearing ticklers, meaning pretty + much everybody?”</p> + + <p>“I did,” he said. “I take it that’s + no longer the case. What are the + new symptoms?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page45" title="45"></a>She gave no indication. After + some time she said, “Gusterson, + do you remember the Doré illustrations + to the <em>Inferno</em>? Can you + visualize the paintings of Hieronymous + Bosch with the hordes + of proto-Freudian devils tormenting + people all over the farmyard + and city square? Did you ever + see the Disney animations of + Moussorgsky’s witches’ sabbath + music? Back in the foolish days + before you married me, did that + drug-addict girl friend of yours + ever take you to <ins title="word was missing">a</ins> genuine orgy?”</p> + + <p>“As bad as that, hey?”</p> + + <p>She nodded emphatically and + all of a sudden shivered violently. + “Several shades worse,” she said. + “If they decide to come topside—” + She shot up. “Where are + the kids?”</p> + + <p>“Upstairs campin’ in the mysterious + wilderness of the 21st + floor,” Gusterson reassured her. + “Let’s leave ’em there until we’re + ready to—”</p> + + <p>He broke off. They both heard + the faint sound of thudding footsteps.</p> + + <p>“They’re on the stairs,” Daisy + whispered, starting to move toward + the open door. “But are + they coming from up or down?”</p> + + <p>“It’s just one person,” judged + Gusterson, moving after his wife. + “Too heavy for one of the kids.”</p> + + <p>The footsteps doubled in volume + and came rapidly closer. + Along with them there was an + agonized gasping. Daisy stopped, + staring fearfully at the open doorway. + Gusterson moved past her. + Then he stopped too.</p> + + <p>Fay stumbled into view and + would have fallen on his face except + he clutched both sides of the + doorway halfway up. He was + stripped to the waist. There was + a little blood on his shoulder. His + narrow chest was arching convulsively, + the ribs standing out + starkly, as he sucked in oxygen + to replace what he’d burned up + running up twenty flights. His + eyes were wild.</p> + + <p>“They’ve taken over,” he panted. + Another gobbling breath. + “Gone crazy.” Two more gasps. + “Gotta stop ’em.”</p> + + <p>His eyes filmed. He swayed + forward. Then Gusterson’s big + arms were around him and he + was carrying him to the couch.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Daisy</span> came running from the + kitchen with a damp cool + towel. Gusterson took it from her + and began to mop Fay off. He + sucked in his own breath as he + saw that Fay’s right ear was raw + and torn. He whispered to Daisy, + “Look at where the thing savaged + him.”</p> + + <p>The blood on Fay’s shoulder + came from his ear. Some of it + stained a flush-skin plastic fitting + that had two small valved holes + in it and that puzzled Gusterson + until he remembered that Moodmaster + <a class="pagenum" id="page46" title="46"></a>tied into the bloodstream. + For a second he thought he was + going to vomit.</p> + + <p>The dazed look slid aside from + Fay’s eyes. He was gasping less + painfully now. He sat up, pushing + the towel away, buried his face + in his hands for a few seconds, + then looked over the fingers at + the two of them.</p> + + <p>“I’ve been living in a nightmare + for the last week,” he said + in a taut small voice, “knowing + the thing had come alive and trying + to pretend to myself that it + hadn’t. Knowing it was taking + charge of me more and more. + Having it whisper in my ear, over + and over again, in a cracked little + rhyme that I could only hear + every hundredth time, ‘Day by + day, in every way, you’re learning + to listen … and <em>obey</em>. Day by + day—’”</p> + + <p>His voice started to go high. He + pulled it down and continued + harshly, “I ditched it this morning + when I showered. It let me + break contact to do that. It must + have figured it had complete control + of me, mounted or dismounted. + I think it’s telepathic, and + then it did some, well, rather unpleasant + things to me late last + night. But I pulled together my + fears and my will and I ran for it. + The slidewalks were chaos. The + Mark 6 ticklers showed some purpose, + though I couldn’t tell you + what, but as far as I could see + the Mark 3s and 4s were just + cootching their mounts to death—Chinese + feather torture. Giggling, + gasping, choking … gales + of mirth. People are dying of + laughter … ticklers!… the irony + of it! It was the complete lack of + order and sanity and that let me + get topside. There were things I + saw—” Once again his voice went + shrill. He clapped his hand to his + mouth and rocked back and forth + on the couch.</p> + + <p>Gusterson gently but firmly + laid a hand on his good shoulder. + “Steady,” he said. “Here, swallow + this.”</p> + + <p>Fay shoved aside the short + brown drink. “We’ve got to stop + them,” he cried. “Mobilize the + topsiders—contact the wilderness + patrols and manned satellites—pour + ether in the tunnel + airpumps—invent and crash-manufacture + missiles that will + home on ticklers without harming + humans—SOS Mars and + Venus—dope the shelter water + supply—do something! Gussy, + you don’t realize what people + are going through down there + every second.”</p> + + <p>“I think they’re experiencing + the ultimate in outer-directedness,” + Gusterson said gruffly.</p> + + <p>“Have you no heart?” <ins title="Gay">Fay</ins> demanded. + His eyes widened, as if + he were seeing Gusterson for the + first time. Then, accusingly, pointing + a shaking finger: “<i>You invented + <a class="pagenum" id="page47" title="47"></a>the tickler, George Gusterson! + It’s all your fault! You’ve got + to do something about it!</i>”</p> + + <p>Before Gusterson could retort + to that, or begin to think of a + reply, or even assimilate the full + enormity of Fay’s statement, he + was grabbed from behind and + frog-marched away from Fay and + something that felt remarkably + like the muzzle of a large-caliber + gun was shoved in the small of + his back.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Under cover</span> of Fay’s outburst + a huge crowd of people + had entered the room from + the hall—eight, to be exact. But + the weirdest thing about them to + Gusterson was that from the first + instant he had the impression + that only one mind had entered + the room and that it did not reside + in any of the eight persons, + even though he recognized three + of them, but in something that + they were carrying.</p> + + <p>Several things contributed to + this impression. The eight people + all had the same blank expression—watchful + yet empty-eyed. + They all moved in the same + slithery crouch. And they had all + taken off their shoes. Perhaps, + Gusterson thought wildly, they + believed he and Daisy ran a + Japanese flat.</p> + + <p>Gusterson was being held by + two burly women, one of them + quite pimply. He considered + stamping on her toes, but just at + that moment the gun dug in his + back with a corkscrew movement.</p> + + <p>The man holding the gun on + him was Fay’s colleague Davidson. + Some yards beyond Fay’s + couch, Kester was holding a gun + on Daisy, without digging it into + her, while the single strange man + holding Daisy herself was doing + so quite decorously—a circumstance + which afforded Gusterson + minor relief, since it made him + feel less guilty about not going + berserk.</p> + + <p>Two more strange men, one of + them in purple lounging pajamas, + the other in the gray uniform of + a slidewalk inspector, had + grabbed Fay’s skinny upper + arms, one on either side, and + were lifting him to his feet, while + Fay was struggling with such + desperate futility and gibbering + so pitifully that Gusterson momentarily + had second thoughts + about the moral imperative to go + berserk when menaced by hostile + force. But again the gun dug into + him with a twist.</p> + + <p>Approaching Fay face-on was + the third Micro-man Gusterson + had met yesterday—Hazen. It + was Hazen who was carrying—quite + reverently or solemnly—or + at any rate very carefully the + object that seemed to Gusterson + to be the mind of the little storm + troop presently desecrating the + <a class="pagenum" id="page48" title="48"></a>sanctity of his own individual + home.</p> + + <p>All of them were wearing ticklers, + of course—the three Micro-men + the heavy emergent Mark + 6s with their clawed and jointed + arms and monocular cephalic + turrets, the rest lower-numbered + Marks of the sort that merely + made Richard-the-Third humps + under clothing.</p> + + <p>The object that Hazen was + carrying was the Mark 6 tickler + Gusterson had seen Fay wearing + yesterday. Gusterson was sure it + was Pooh-Bah because of its air + of command, and because he + would have sworn on a mountain + of Bibles that he recognized the + red fleck lurking in the back of + its single eye. And Pooh-Bah + alone had the aura of full conscious + thought. Pooh-Bah alone + had mana.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">It is not</span> good to see an evil + legless child robot with dangling + straps bossing—apparently + by telepathic power—not + only three objects of its own kind + and five close primitive relatives, + but also eight human beings … + and in addition throwing into a + state of twitching terror one miserable, + thin-chested, half-crazy + research-and-development director.</p> + + <p>Pooh-Bah pointed a claw at + Fay. Fay’s handlers dragged him + forward, still resisting but more + feebly now, as if half-hypnotized + or at least cowed.</p> + + <p>Gusterson grunted an outraged, + “Hey!” and automatically struggled + a bit, but once more the gun + dug in. Daisy shut her eyes, then + firmed her mouth and opened + them again to look.</p> + + <p>Seating the tickler on Fay’s + shoulder took a little time, because + two blunt spikes in its bottom + had to be fitted into the + valved holes in the flush-skin + plastic disk. When at last they + plunged home Gusterson felt + very sick indeed—and then + even more so, as the tickler itself + poked a tiny pellet on a fine wire + into Fay’s ear.</p> + + <p>The next moment Fay had + straightened up and motioned his + handlers aside. He tightened the + straps of his tickler around his + chest and under his armpits. He + held out a hand and someone + gave him a shoulderless shirt and + coat. He slipped into them + smoothly, Pooh-Bah dexterously + using its little claws to help put + its turret and body through the + neatly hemmed holes. The small + storm troop looked at Fay with + deferential expectation. He held + still for a moment, as if thinking, + and then walked over to Gusterson + and looked him in the face + and again held still.</p> + + <p>Fay’s expression was jaunty on + the surface, agonized underneath. + Gusterson knew that he wasn’t + <a class="pagenum" id="page49" title="49"></a>thinking at all, but only listening + for instructions from something + that was whispering on the very + threshold of his inner ear.</p> + + <p>“Gussy, old boy,” Fay said, + twitching a depthless grin, “I’d + be very much obliged if you’d + answer a few simple questions.” + His voice was hoarse at first but + he swallowed twice and corrected + that. “What exactly did + you have in mind when you invented + ticklers? What exactly + are they supposed to be?”</p> + + <p>“Why, you miserable—” Gusterson + began in a kind of confused + horror, then got hold of + himself and said curtly, “They + were supposed to be mech reminders. + They were supposed to + record memoranda and—”</p> + + <p>Fay held up a palm and shook + his head and again listened for a + space. Then, “That’s how ticklers + were supposed to be of use to + humans,” he said. “I don’t mean + that at all. I mean how ticklers + were supposed to be of use to + themselves. Surely you had some + notion.” Fay wet his lips. “If it’s + any help,” he added, “keep in + mind that it’s not Fay who’s asking + this question, but Pooh-Bah.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson hesitated. He had + the feeling that every one of the + eight dual beings in the room + was hanging on his answer and + that something was boring into + his mind and turning over his + next thoughts and peering at and + under them before he had a + chance to scan them himself. + Pooh-Bah’s eye was like a red + searchlight.</p> + + <p>“Go on,” Fay prompted. “What + were ticklers supposed to be—for + themselves?”</p> + + <p>“Nothin’,” Gusterson said softly. + “Nothin’ at all.”</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">He could feel</span> the disappointment + well up in the + room—and with it a touch of + something like panic.</p> + + <p>This time Fay listened for + quite a long while. “I hope you + don’t mean that, Gussy,” he said + at last very earnestly. “I mean, + I hope you hunt deep and find + some ideas you forgot, or maybe + never realized you had at the + time. Let me put it to you differently. + What’s the place of ticklers + in the natural scheme of + things? What’s their aim in life? + Their special reason? Their genius? + Their final cause? What + gods should ticklers worship?”</p> + + <p>But <ins title="Gunderson">Gusterson</ins> was already + shaking his head. He said, “I + don’t know anything about that + at all.”</p> + + <p>Fay sighed and gave simultaneously + with Pooh-Bah the + now-familiar <ins title="triple-joined">triple-jointed</ins> shrug. + Then the man briskened himself. + “I guess that’s as far as we can + get right now,” he said. “Keep + thinking, Gussy. Try to remember + something. You won’t be able + <a class="pagenum" id="page50" title="50"></a>to leave your apartment—I’m + setting guards. If you want to see + me, tell them. Or just think—In due course you’ll be questioned + further in any case. Perhaps + by special methods. Perhaps + you’ll be ticklerized. That’s all. + Come on, everybody, let’s get going.”</p> + + <p>The pimply woman and her + pal let go of Gusterson, Daisy’s + man loosed his decorous hold, + Davidson and Kester sidled away + with an eye behind them and the + little storm troop trudged out.</p> + + <p>Fay looked back in the doorway. + “I’m sorry, Gussy,” he said + and for a moment his old self + looked out of his eyes. “I wish + I could—” A claw reached for + his ear, a spasm of pain crossed + his face, he stiffened and marched + off. The door shut.</p> + + <p>Gusterson took two deep + breaths that were close to angry + sobs. Then, still breathing stentorously, + he stamped into the + bedroom.</p> + + <p>“What—?” Daisy asked, looking + after him.</p> + + <p>He came back carrying his .38 + and headed for the door.</p> + + <p>“What are you up to?” she demanded, + knowing very well.</p> + + <p>“I’m going to blast that iron + monkey off Fay’s back if it’s the + last thing I do!”</p> + + <p>She threw her arms around + him.</p> + + <p>“Now lemme go,” Gusterson + growled. “I gotta be a man one + time anyway.”</p> + + <p>As they struggled for the gun, + the door opened noiselessly, + Davidson slipped in and deftly + snatched the weapon out of their + hands before they realized he + was there. He said nothing, only + smiled at them and shook his + head in sad reproof as he went + out.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Gusterson</span> slumped. “I + <em>knew</em> they were all psionic,” + he said softly. “I just got out of + control now—that last look Fay + gave us.” He touched Daisy’s + arm. “Thanks, kid.”</p> + + <p>He walked to the glass wall + and looked out desultorily. After + a while he turned and said, + “Maybe you better be with the + kids, hey? I imagine the guards’ll + let you through.”</p> + + <p>Daisy shook her head. “The + kids never come home until supper. + For the next few hours + they’ll be safer without me.”</p> + + <p>Gusterson nodded vaguely, sat + down on the couch and propped + his chin on the base of his palm. + After a while his brow smoothed + and Daisy knew that the wheels + had started to turn inside and the + electrons to jump around—except + that she reminded herself to + permanently cross out those particular + figures of speech from her + vocabulary.</p> + + <p>After about half an hour Gusterson + <a class="pagenum" id="page51" title="51"></a>said softly, “I think the + ticklers are so psionic that it’s as + if they just had one mind. If I + were with them very long I’d + start to be part of that mind. Say + something to one of them and + you say it to all.”</p> + + <p>Fifteen minutes later: “They’re + not crazy, they’re just newborn. + The ones that were creating a + cootching chaos downstairs were + like babies kickin’ their legs and + wavin’ their eyes, tryin’ to see + what their bodies could do. Too + bad their bodies are us.”</p> + + <p>Ten minutes more: “I gotta do + something about it. Fay’s right. + It’s all my fault. He’s just the + apprentice; I’m the old sorcerer + himself.”</p> + + <p>Five minutes more, gloomily: + “Maybe it’s man’s destiny to + build live machines and then bow + out of the cosmic picture. Except + the ticklers need us, dammit, just + like nomads need horses<ins title=",">.</ins>”</p> + + <p>Another five minutes: “Maybe + somebody could dream up a purpose + in life for ticklers. Even a + religion—the First Church of + Pooh-Bah Tickler. But I hate + selling other people spiritual + ideas and that’d still leave ticklers + parasitic on humans….”</p> + + <p>As he murmured those last + words Gusterson’s eyes got wide + as a maniac’s and a big smile + reached for his ears. He stood up + and faced himself toward the + door.</p> + + <p>“What are you intending to do + now?” Daisy asked flatly.</p> + + <p>“I’m merely goin’ out an’ save + the world,” he told her. “I may + be back for supper and I may + not.”</p> + + <h2>VIII</h2> + + <p><span class="first_word">Davidson</span> pushed out from + the wall against which he’d + been resting himself and his two-stone + tickler and moved to block + the hall. But Gusterson simply + walked up to him. He shook his + hand warmly and looked his tickler + full in the eye and said in a + ringing voice, “Ticklers should + have bodies of their own!” He + paused and then added casually, + “Come on, let’s visit your boss.”</p> + + <p>Davidson listened for instructions + and then nodded. But he + watched Gusterson warily as + they walked down the hall.</p> + + <p>In the elevator Gusterson repeated + his message to the second + guard, who turned out to be the + pimply woman, now wearing + shoes. This time he added, “Ticklers + shouldn’t be tied to the frail + bodies of humans, which need a + lot of thoughtful supervision and + drug-injecting and can’t even fly.”</p> + + <p>Crossing the park, Gusterson + stopped a hump-backed soldier + and informed him, “Ticklers gotta + cut the apron string and snap + the silver cord and go out in the + universe and find their own purposes.” + <a class="pagenum" id="page52" title="52"></a>Davidson and the pimply + woman didn’t interfere. They + merely waited and watched and + then led Gusterson on.</p> + + <p>On the escaladder he told + someone, “It’s cruel to tie ticklers + to slow-witted snaily humans + when ticklers can think and live + … ten thousand times as fast,” + he finished, plucking the figure + from the murk of his unconscious.</p> + + <p>By the time they got to the + bottom, the message had become, + “Ticklers should have a planet of + their own!”</p> + + <p>They never did catch up with + Fay, although they spent two + hours skimming around on slidewalks, + under the subterranean + stars, pursuing rumors of his + presence. Clearly the boss tickler + (which was how they thought + of Pooh-bah) led an energetic + life. Gusterson continued to deliver + his message to all and sundry + at 30-second intervals. Toward + the end he found himself + doing it in a dreamy and forgetful + way. His mind, he decided, + was becoming assimilated to the + communal telepathic mind of the + ticklers. It did not seem to matter + at the time.</p> + + <p>After two hours Gusterson + realized that he and his guides + were becoming part of a general + movement of people, a flow + as mindless as that of blood corpuscles + through the veins, yet at + the same time dimly purposeful—at + least there was the feeling + that it was at the behest of a + mind far above.</p> + + <p>The flow was topside. All the + slidewalks seemed to lead to the + concourses and the escaladders. + Gusterson found himself part of + a human stream moving into the + tickler factory adjacent to his + apartment—or another factory + very much like it.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Thereafter</span> Gusterson’s awarenesses + were dimmed. It + was as if a bigger mind were doing + the remembering for him and + it were permissible and even + mandatory for him to dream his + way along. He knew vaguely that + days were passing. He knew he + had work of a sort: at one time + he was bringing food to gaunt-eyed + tickler-mounted humans + working feverishly in a production + line—human hands and + tickler claws working together in + a blur of rapidity on silvery + mechanisms that moved along + jumpily on a great belt; at another + he was sweeping piles of + metal scraps and garbage down + a gray corridor.</p> + + <p>Two scenes stood out a little + more vividly.</p> + + <p>A windowless wall had been + knocked out for twenty feet. + There was blue sky outside, its + light almost hurtful, and a drop + of many stories. A file of humans + were being processed. When one + <a class="pagenum" id="page53" title="53"></a>of them got to the head of the + file his (or her) tickler was ceremoniously + unstrapped from his + shoulder and welded onto a silvery + cask with smoothly pointed + ends. The result was something + that looked—at least in the case + of the Mark 6 ticklers—like a + stubby silver submarine, child + size. It would hum gently, lift + off the floor and then fly slowly + out through the big blue gap. + Then the next tickler-ridden human + would step forward for processing.</p> + + <p>The second scene was in a + park, the sky again blue, but big + and high with an argosy of white + clouds. Gusterson was lined up in + a crowd of humans that stretched + as far as he could see, row on + irregular row. Martial music was + playing. Overhead hovered a + flock of little silver submarines, + lined up rather more orderly in + the air than the humans were on + the ground. The music rose to a + heart-quickening climax. The + tickler nearest Gusterson gave + (as if to say, “And now—who + knows?”) a triple-jointed shrug + that stung his memory. Then the + ticklers took off straight up on + their new and shining bodies. + They became a flight of silver + geese … of silver midges … + and the humans around Gusterson + lifted a ragged cheer….</p> + + <p>That scene marked the beginning + of the return of Gusterson’s + mind and memory. He shuffled + around for a bit, spoke vaguely + to three or four people he recalled + from the dream days, and + then headed for home and supper—three + weeks late, and as + disoriented and emaciated as a + bear coming out of hibernation.</p> + + <p class="post_break"><span class="first_word">Six months</span> later Fay was + having dinner with Daisy + and Gusterson. The cocktails had + been poured and the children + were playing in the next apartment. + The transparent violet + walls brightened, then gloomed, + as the sun dipped below the horizon.</p> + + <p>Gusterson said, “I see where a + spaceship out beyond the orbit + of Mars was holed by a tickler. + I wonder where the little guys + are headed now?”</p> + + <p>Fay started to give a writhing + left-armed shrug, but stopped + himself with a grimace.</p> + + <p>“Maybe out of the solar system + altogether,” suggested Daisy, + who’d recently dyed her hair fire-engine + red and was wearing red + leotards.</p> + + <p>“They got a weary trip ahead + of them,” Gusterson said, “unless + they work out a hyper-Einsteinian + drive on the way.”</p> + + <p>Fay grimaced again. He was + still looking rather peaked. He + said plaintively, “Haven’t we + heard enough about ticklers for + a while?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page54" title="54"></a>“I guess so,” Gusterson agreed, + “but I get to wondering about the + little guys. They were so serious + and intense about everything. I + never did solve their problem, + you know. I just shifted it onto + other shoulders than ours. No + joke intended,” he hurried to add.</p> + + <p>Fay forbore to comment. “By + the way, Gussy,” he said, “have + you heard anything from the Red + Cross about that world-saving + medal I nominated you for? I + know you think the whole concept + of world-saving medals is + ridiculous, especially when they + started giving them to all heads + of state who didn’t start atomic + wars while in office, but—”</p> + + <p>“Nary a peep,” Gusterson told + him. “I’m not proud, Fay. I could + use a few world-savin’ medals. + I’d start a flurry in the old-gold + market. But I don’t worry about + those things. I don’t have time to. + I’m busy these days thinkin’ up + a bunch of new inventions.”</p> + + <p>“Gussy!” Fay said sharply, his + face tightening in alarm, “Have + you forgotten your promise?”</p> + + <p>“’Course not, Fay. My new inventions + aren’t for Micro or any + other firm. They’re just a legitimate + part of my literary endeavors. + Happens my next insanity + novel is goin’ to be about + a mad inventor.”</p> + + <p class="closing">—FRITZ LEIBER</p> + <p id="the_end"> </p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Creature from Cleveland Depths, by +Fritz Reuter Leiber + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CREATURE FROM CLEVELAND DEPTHS *** + +***** This file should be named 23164-h.htm or 23164-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/6/23164/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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