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diff --git a/28608.txt b/28608.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddce16d --- /dev/null +++ b/28608.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1541 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Inside John Barth, by William W. Stuart + +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: Inside John Barth + +Author: William W. Stuart + +Illustrator: Dillon + +Release Date: April 25, 2009 [EBook #28608] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INSIDE JOHN BARTH *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +Transcriber's Note: This e-text was produced from Galaxy Magazine, +June, 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the +U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + +INSIDE JOHN BARTH + + +By WILLIAM W. STUART + + + +Every man wants to see a Garden of Eden. John Barth +agreed with his whole heart--he knew that he'd rather +see than be one! + + + +Illustrated by DILLON + + + + +I + +Take a fellow, reasonably young, personable enough, health perfect. +Suppose he has all the money he can reasonably, or even unreasonably, +use. He is successful in a number of different fields of work in which +he is interested. Certainly he has security. Women? Well, maybe not any +woman in the world he might want. But still, a very nice, choice +selection of a number of the very finest physical specimens. The +finest--and no acute case of puritanism to inhibit his enjoyment. + +Take all that. Then add to it the positive assurance of continuing +youth and vigor, with a solid life expectancy of from 175 to 200 more +years. Impossible? Well--just suppose it were all true of someone. A +man like that, a man with all those things going for him, you'd figure +he would be the happiest man in the world. + +Wouldn't you? + +Sure. A man with all that would have to be the happiest--unless he was +crazy. Right? But me, Johnny Barth, I had it. + +I had all of it, just like that. I sure wasn't the happiest man in the +world though. And I know I wasn't crazy either. The thing about me was, +I wasn't a man. Not exactly. + +I was a colony. + +Really. A colony. A settlement. A new but flourishing culture, you +might say. Oh, I had the look of a man, and the mind and the nerves and +the feel of a man too. All the normal parts and equipment. But all of +it existed--and was beautifully kept up, I'll say that--primarily as a +locale, not a man. + +I was, as I said before, a colony. + +Sometimes I used to wonder how New England really felt about the +Pilgrims. If you think that sounds silly--perhaps one of these days you +won't. + + +The beginning was some ten years back, on a hunting trip the autumn +after I got out of college. That was just before I started working, as +far off the bottom as I could talk myself, which was the personnel +office in my Uncle John's dry cleaning chain in the city. + +That wasn't too bad. But I was number four man in the office, so it +could have been better, too. Uncle John was a bachelor, which meant he +had no daughter I could marry. Anyway, she would have been my cousin. +But next best, I figured, was to be on good personal terms with the old +bull. + +This wasn't too hard. Apart from expecting rising young executives to +rise and start work no later than 8:30 a.m., Uncle John was more or +less all right. Humor him? Well, every fall he liked to go hunting. So +when he asked me to go hunting with him up in the Great Sentries, I +knew I was getting along pretty well. I went hunting. + +The trip was nothing very much. We camped up in the hills. We drank a +reasonably good bourbon. We hunted--if that's the word for it. Me, I'd +done my hitch in the Army. I know what a gun is--and respect it. Uncle +John provided our hunting excitement by turning out to be one of the +trigger-happy types. His score was two cows, a goat, a couple of other +hunters, one possible deer--and unnumbered shrubs and bushes shot _at_. +Luckily he was such a lousy shot that the safest things in the +mountains were his targets. + +Well, no matter. I tried to stay in the second safest place, which was +directly behind him. So it was a nice enough trip with no casualties, +right up to the last night. + +We were all set to pack out in the morning when it happened. Maybe you +read about the thing at the time. It got a light-hearted play in the +papers, the way those things do. "A one in a billion accident," they +called it. + +We were lounging by the campfire after supper and a few good snorts. +Uncle John was entertaining himself with a review of some of his +nearer, more thrilling misses. I, to tell the truth, was sort of dozing +off. + +Then, all of a sudden, there was a bright flash of blue-green light and +a loud sort of a "zoop-zing" sound. And a sharp, stinging sensation in +my thighs. + +I hollered. I jumped to my feet. I looked down, and my pants were +peppered with about a dozen little holes like buckshot. I didn't have +to drop my pants to know my legs were too. I could feel it. And blood +started to ooze. + +I figured, of course, that Uncle John had finally shot me and I at once +looked on the bright side. I would be a cinch for a fast promotion to +vice president. But Uncle John swore he hadn't been near a gun. So we +guessed some other hunter must have done it, seen what he had done and +then prudently ducked. At least no one stepped forward. + + +It was a moonlight night. With Uncle John helping me we made it the two +and a half miles back down the trail to Poxville, where we'd left our +car and stuff. We routed out the only doctor in the area, old Doc +Grandy. + +He grumbled, "Hell, boy, a few little hunks o' buckshot like that and +you make such a holler. I see a dozen twice's bad as this ever' season. +Ought to make you wait till office hours. Well--hike yourself up on the +table there. I'll flip 'em out for you." + +Which he proceeded to do. If it was a joke to him, it sure wasn't to +me, even if they weren't in very deep. Finally he was done. He stood +there clucking like an old hen with no family but a brass doorknob. +Something didn't seem quite right to him. + +Uncle John gave me a good belt of the bourbon he'd been thoughtful +enough to pack along. + +"What was it you say hit you, boy?" Doc Grandy wanted to know, reaching +absently for the bottle. + +"Buckshot, I suppose. What was it you just hacked out of me?" + +"Hah!" He passed the bottle back to Uncle John. "Not like any buckshot +I ever saw. Little balls, or shells of metallic stuff all right. But +not lead. Peculiar. M-mph. You know what, boy?" + +"You're mighty liberal with the iodine, I know that. What else?" + +"You say you saw a big flash of light. Come to think on it, I saw a +streak of light up the mountainside about that same time. I was out +on the porch. You know, boy, I believe you got something to feel +right set up about. I believe you been hit by a meteor. If it +weren't--ha-ha--pieces of one of them flying saucers you read +about." + +Well, I didn't feel so set up about it, then or ever. But it did turn +out he was right. + +Doc Grandy got a science professor from Eastern State Teachers College +there in Poxville to come look. He agreed that they were meteor +fragments. The two of them phoned it in to the city papers during a +slow week and, all in all, it was a big thing. To them. To me it was +nothing much but a pain in the rear. + +The meteor, interviewed scientists were quoted as saying, must have +almost burned up coming through the atmosphere, and disintegrated just +before it hit me. Otherwise I'd have been killed. The Poxville +professor got very long-winded about the peculiar shape and composition +of the pieces, and finally carried off all but one for the college +museum. Most likely they're still there. One I kept as a souvenir, +which was silly. It wasn't a thing I wanted to remember--or, as I found +later, would ever be able to forget. Anyway, I lost it. + +All right. That was that and, except for a lingering need to sit on +very soft cushions, the end of it. I thought. We went back to town. + +Uncle John felt almost as guilty about the whole thing as if he had +shot me himself and, in November, when he found about old Bert +Winginheimer interviewing girl applicants for checker jobs at home in +his apartment, I got a nice promotion. + + +Working my way up, I was a happy, successful businessman. + +And then, not all at once but gradually, a lot of little things +developed into problems. They weren't really problems either, exactly. +They were puzzles. Nothing big but--well, it was like I was sort of +being made to do, or not do, certain things. Like being pushed in one +direction or another. And not necessarily the direction I personally +would have picked. Like---- + +Well, one thing was shaving. + +I always had used an ordinary safety razor--nicked myself not more than +average. It seemed OK to me. Never cared too much for electric razors; +it didn't seem to me they shaved as close. But--I took to using an +electric razor now, because I had to. + +One workday morning I dragged myself to the bathroom of my bachelor +apartment to wash and shave. Getting started in the morning was never a +pleasure to me. But this time seemed somehow tougher than usual. I +lathered my face and put a fresh blade in my old razor. + +For some reason, I could barely force myself to start. "Come on, Johnny +boy!" I told myself. "Let's go!" I made myself take a first stroke with +the razor. Man! It burned like fire. I started another stroke and the +burning came before the razor even touched my face. I had to give up. I +went down to the office without a shave. + +That was no good, of course, so at the coffee break I forced myself +around the corner to the barber shop. Same thing! I got all lathered up +all right, holding myself by force in the chair. But, before the barber +could touch the razor to my face, the burning started again. + +I stopped him. I couldn't take it. + +And then suddenly the idea came to me that an electric razor would be +the solution. It wasn't, actually, just an idea; it was positive +knowledge. Somehow I knew an electric razor would do it. I picked one +up at the drug store around the corner and took it to the office. +Plugged the thing in and went to work. It was fine, as I had known it +would be. As close a shave? Well, no. But at least it was a shave. + +Another thing was my approach to--or retreat from--drinking. Not that I +ever was a real rummy, but I hadn't been one to drag my feet at a +party. Now I got so moderate it hardly seemed worth bothering with at +all. I could only take three or four drinks, and that only about once a +week. The first time I had that feeling I should quit after four, I +tried just one--or two--more. At the first sip of number five, I +thought the top of my head would blast off. Four was the limit. Rigidly +enforced. + +All that winter, things like that kept coming up. I couldn't drink more +than so much coffee. Had to take it easy on smoking. Gave up ice +skating--all of a sudden the cold bothered me. Stay up late nights and +chase around? No more; I could hardly hold my eyes open after ten. + +That's the way it went. + +I had these feelings, compulsions actually. I couldn't control them. I +couldn't go against them. If I did, I would suffer for it. + +True, I had to admit that probably all these things were really good +for me. But it got to where everything I did was something that was +good for me--and that was bad. Hell, it isn't natural for a young +fellow just out of college to live like a fussy old man of seventy with +a grudge against the undertaker. Life became very dull! + +About the only thing I could say for it was, I was sure healthy. + +It was the first winter since I could remember that I never caught a +cold. A cold? I never once sniffled. My health was perfect; never even +so much as a pimple. My dandruff and athlete's foot disappeared. I had +a wonderful appetite--which was lucky, since I didn't have much other +recreation left. And I didn't even gain weight! + +Well, those things were nice enough, true. But were they compensation +for the life I was being forced to live? Answer: Uh-uh. I couldn't +imagine what was wrong with me. + +Of course, as it turned out the following spring, I didn't have to +imagine it. I was told. + + +II + +It was a Friday. After work I stopped by Perry's Place with Fred +Schingle and Burk Walters from the main accounting office. I was hoping +it would turn out to be one of my nights to have a couple--but no. I +got the message and sat there, more or less sulking, in my half of the +booth. + +Fred and Burk got to arguing about flying saucers. Fred said yes; Burk, +no. I stirred my coffee and sat in a neutral corner. + +"Now look here," said Burk, "you say people have seen things. All +right. Maybe some of them have seen things--weather balloons, shadows, +meteors maybe. But space ships? Nonsense." + +"No nonsense at all. I've seen pictures. And some of the reports are +from airline pilots and people like that, who are not fooled by +balloons or meteors. They have seen ships, I tell you, ships from outer +space. And they are observing us." + +"Drivel!" + +"It is not!" + +"It's drivel. Now look, Fred. You too, Johnny, if you're awake over +there. How long have they been reporting these things? For years. Ever +since World War II. + +"All right. Ever since the war, at least. So. Suppose they were space +ships? Whoever was in them must be way ahead of us technically. So why +don't they land? Why don't they approach us?" + +Fred shrugged. "How would I know? They probably have their reasons. +Maybe they figure we aren't worth any closer contact." + +"Hah! Nonsense. The reason we don't see these space people, Fred my +boy, admit it, is because there aren't any. And you know it!" + +"I don't know anything of the damned sort. For all any of us know, they +might even be all around us right now." + +Burk laughed. I smiled, a little sourly, and drained my coffee. + +I felt a little warning twinge. + +Too much coffee; should have taken milk. I excused myself as the other +two ordered up another round. + +I left. The conversation was too stupid to listen to. Space creatures +all around me, of all things. How wrong can a man get? There weren't +any invaders from space all around me. + +_I was all around them._ + + +All at once, standing there on the sidewalk outside Perry's Bar, I knew +that it was true. Space invaders. The Earth was invaded--the Earth, +hell! _I_ was invaded. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew all right. +I should have. I was in possession of all the information. + +I took a cab home to my apartment. + +I was upset. I had a right to be upset and I wanted to be alone. Alone? +That was a joke! + +Well, my cab pulled up in front of my very modest place. I paid the +driver, overtipped him--I was really upset--and ran up the stairs. In +the apartment, I hustled to the two by four kitchen and, with +unshakable determination, I poured myself a four-finger snort of +scotch. + +Then I groaned and poured it down the sink. Unshakable determination is +all very well--but when the top of your head seems to rip loose like a +piece of stubborn adhesive coming off a hairy chest and bounces, hard, +against the ceiling, then all you can do is give up. I stumbled out to +the front room and slumped down in my easy chair to think. + +I'd left the door open and I was sitting in a draft. + +So I had to--that compulsion--go close the door. _Then_ I sat down to +think. + +Anyway I _thought_ I sat down to think. But, suddenly, my thoughts were +not my own. + +I wasn't producing them; I was receiving them. + +"Barth! Oh, Land of Barth. Do you read us, oh Barthland? Do you read +us?" + +I didn't hear that, you understand. It wasn't a voice. It was all +thoughts inside my head. But to me they came in terms of words. + +I took it calmly. Surprisingly, I was no longer upset--which, as I +think it over, was probably more an achievement of internal engineering +than personal stability. + +"Yeah," I said, "I read you. So who in hell--" a poor choice of +expression--"are you? What are you doing here? Answer me that." I +didn't have to say it, the thought would have been enough. I knew that. +But it made me feel better to speak out. + +"We are Barthians, of course. We are your people. We live here." + +"Well, you're trespassing on private property! Get out, you hear me? +Get out!" + +"Now, now, noble Fatherland. Please, do not become upset and +unreasonable. We honor you greatly as our home and country. Surely we +who were born and raised here have our rights. True, our forefathers +who made the great voyage through space settled first here in a +frightful wilderness some four generations back. But we are neither +pioneers nor immigrants. We are citizens born." + +"Invaders! Squatters!" + +"Citizens of Barthland." + +"Invaded! Good Lord, of all the people in the world, why me? Nothing +like this ever happened to anyone. Why did I have to be picked to be a +territory--the first man to have queer things living in me?" + +"Oh, please, gracious Fatherland! Permit us to correct you. In the day +of our fathers, conditions were, we can assure you, chaotic. Many +horrible things lived here. Wild beasts and plant growths of the most +vicious types were everywhere." + +"There were----?" + +"What you would call microbes. Bacteria. Fungi. Viruses. Terrible +devouring wild creatures everywhere. You were a howling wilderness. Of +course, we have cleaned those things up now. Today you are civilized--a +fine, healthy individual of your species--and our revered Fatherland. +Surely you have noted the vast improvement in your condition!" + +"Yes, but----" + +"And we pledge our lives to you, oh Barthland. As patriotic citizens we +will defend you to the death. We promise you will never be successfully +invaded." + +Yeah. Well, that was nice. But already I felt as crowded as a subway +train with the power cut out at rush hour. + +But there was no room for doubt either. I'd had it. I still did have +it; had no chance at all of getting rid of it. + + +They went on then and told me their story. + +I won't try to repeat it all verbatim. I couldn't now, since my +memory--but that's something else. Anyway, I finally got the picture. + +But I didn't get it all the same evening. Oh, no. At ten I had to knock +it off to go to bed, get my sleep, keep up my health. They were +insistent. + +As they put it, even if I didn't care for myself I had to think about +an entire population and generations yet unborn. Or unbudded, which was +the way they did it. + +Well, as they said, we had the whole weekend to work out an +understanding. Which we did. When we were through, I didn't like it a +whole lot better, but at least I could understand it. + +It was all a perfectly logical proposition from their point of +view--which differed in quite a number of respects from my own. To them +it was simply a matter of survival for their race and their culture. To +me it was a matter of who or what I was going to be. But then, I had no +choice. + +According to the Official History I was given, they came from a tiny +planet of a small sun. Actually, their sun was itself a planet, still +incandescent, distant perhaps like Jupiter from the true sun. Their +planet or moon was tiny, wet and warm. And the temperature was +constant. + +These conditions, naturally, governed their development--and, +eventually, mine. + +Of course they were very small, about the size of a dysentery amoeba. +The individual life span was short as compared to ours but the +accelerated pace of their lives balanced it out. In the beginning, +something like four of our days was a lifetime. So they lived, grew, +developed, evolved. They learned to communicate. They became +civilized--far more so than we have, according to them. And I guess +that was true. They were even able to extend their life span to +something like two months. + +"And to what," I inquired--but without much fire, I'm afraid; I was +losing fight--"to what am I indebted for this intrusion?" + +"Necessity." + +It was, to them. Their sun had begun to cool. It was their eviction +notice. + +They had to move or adapt themselves to immeasurably harsher +conditions; and they had become so highly developed, so specialized, +that change of that sort would have been difficult if not impossible. +And they didn't want to change, anyway. They liked themselves as they +were. + +The only other thing was to escape. They had to work for flight through +space. And they succeeded. + +There were planets nearer to them than Earth. But these were enormous +worlds to them, and the conditions were intolerably harsh. They found +one planet with conditions much like those on Earth a few million years +back. It was a jungle world, dominated by giant reptiles--which were of +no use to the folk. But there were a few, small, struggling, +warm-blooded animals. Small to us, that is--they were county size to +the folk. + +Some genius had a great inspiration. While the environment of the +planet itself was impossibly harsh and hostile, the conditions _inside_ +these warm little animals were highly suitable! + +It seemed to be the solution to their problem of survival. Small, trial +colonies were established. Communication with the space ships from home +was achieved. + +The experiment was a success. + + +The trouble was that each colony's existence depended on the life of +the host. When the animal died, the colony died. + +Life on the planet was savage. New colonies would, of course, be passed +from individual to individual and generation to generation of the host +species. But the inevitable toll of attrition from the violent deaths +of the animals appalled this gentle race. And there was nothing they +could do about it. They could give protection against disease, but they +could not control the hosts. Their scientists figured that, if they +could find a form of life having conscious power of reason, they would +be able to establish communication and a measure of control. But it was +not possible where only instinct existed. + +They went ahead because they had no choice. Their only chance was to +establish their colonies, accepting the certainty of the slaughter of +hundreds upon hundreds of entire communities--and hoping that, with +their help, evolution on the planet would eventually produce a better +host organism. Even of this they were by no means sure. It was a hope. +For all they could know, the struggling mammalian life might well be +doomed to extermination by the giant reptiles. + +They took the gamble. Hundreds of colonies were planted. + +They did it but they weren't satisfied with it. So, back on the dying +home moon, survivors continued to work. Before the end came they made +one more desperate bid for race survival. + +They built interstellar ships to be launched on possibly endless +journeys into space. A nucleus of select individuals in a spore-like +form of suspended animation was placed on each ship. Ships were +launched in pairs, with automatic controls to be activated when they +entered into the radius of attraction of a sun. Should the sun have +planets such as their own home world--or Earth type--the ships would be +guided there. In the case of an Earth type planet having intelligent +life, they would---- + +They would do just what my damned "meteor" had done. + +They would home in on an individual, "explode," penetrate--and set up +heavy housekeeping on a permanent basis. They did. Lovely. Oh, joy! + +Well. We would all like to see the Garden of Eden; but being it is +something quite else again. + +Me, a colony! + +My--uh--population had no idea where they were in relation to their +original home, or how long they had traveled through space. They did +hope that someplace on Earth their companion ship had established +another settlement. But they didn't know. So far on our world, with its +masses of powerful electrical impulses, plus those of our own brains, +they had found distance communication impossible. + +"Well, look, fellows," I said. "Look here now. This is a noble, +inspiring story. The heroic struggle of your--uh--people to survive, +overcoming all odds and stuff, it's wonderful! And I admire you for it, +indeed I do. But--what about me?" + +"You, Great Land of Barth, are our beloved home and fatherland for +many, many generations to come. You are the mighty base from which we +can spread over this enormous planet." + +"That's you. What I mean is, what about _me_?" + +"Oh? But there is no conflict. Your interests are our interests." + +That was how they looked at it. Sincerely. As they said, they weren't +ruthless conquerors. They only wanted to get along. + + +And all they wanted for me were such fine things as good health, long +life, contentment. Contentment, sure. Continued irritation--a sour +disposition resulting in excess flow of bile--did not provide just the +sort of environment in which they cared to bring up the kiddies. +Smoking? No. It wasn't healthy. Alcohol? Well, they were willing to +declare a national holiday now and then. Within reason. + +Which, as I already knew, meant two to four shots once or twice a week. + + +Sex? Themselves, they didn't have any. "But," they told me with an +attitude of broad tolerance, "we want to be fair. We will not interfere +with you in this matter--other than to assist you in the use of sound +judgment in the selection of a partner." + +_But_ I shouldn't feel that any of this was in any way real restrictive. +It was merely practical common sense. + +For observing it I would get their valuable advice and assistance in +all phases of my life. I would enjoy--or have, anyway--perfect health. +My life, if that's what it was, would be extended by better than 100 +years. "You are fortunate," they pointed out, a little smugly I +thought, "that we, unlike your race, are conservationists in the truest +sense. Far from despoiling our homeland and laying waste its resources +and natural scenic wonders, we will improve it." + +I had to be careful because, as they explained it, even a small nick +with a razor might wipe out an entire suburban family. + +"But fellows! I want to live my own life." + +"Come now. Please remember that you are not alone now." + +"Aw, fellows. Look, I'll get a dog, lots of dogs--fine purebreds, not +mongrels like me. The finest. I'll pamper them. They'll live like +kings.... Wouldn't you consider moving?" + +"Out of the question." + +"An elephant then? Think of the space, the room for the kids to +play----" + +"Never." + +"Damn it! Take me to--no, I mean let me talk to your leader." + +That got me no place. It seemed I was already talking to their highest +government councils. All of my suggestions were considered, debated, +voted on--and rejected. + +They were democratic, they said. They counted my vote in favor; but +that was just one vote. Rather a small minority. + +As I suppose I should have figured, my thoughts were coming through +over a period that was, to them, equal to weeks. They recorded them, +accelerated them, broadcast them all around, held elections and +recorded replies to be played back to me at my own slow tempo by the +time I had a new thought ready. No, they wouldn't take time to let me +count the votes. And there is where you might say I lost my self +control. + +"Damn it!" I said. Or shouted. "I won't have it! I won't put up with +it. I'll--uh--I'll get us all dead drunk. I'll take dope! I'll go out +and get a shot of penicillin and--" + +I didn't do a damned thing. I couldn't. + +Their control of my actions was just as complete as they wanted to make +it. While they didn't exercise it all the time, they made the rules. +According to them, they could have controlled my thoughts too if they +had wanted to. They didn't because they felt that wouldn't be +democratic. Actually, I suppose they were pretty fair and +reasonable--from their point of view. Certainly it could have been a +lot worse. + + +III + +I wasn't as bad off as old Faust and his deal with the devil. My soul +was still my own. But my body was community property--and I couldn't, +by God, so much as bite my own tongue without feeling like a bloody +murderer--and being made to suffer for it, too. + +Perhaps you don't think biting your tongue is any great privilege to +have to give up. Maybe not. But, no matter how you figure, you've got +to admit the situation was--well--confining. + +And it lasted for over nine years. + +Nine miserable years of semi-slavery? Well, no. I couldn't honestly say +that it was that bad. There were all the restrictions and limitations, +but also there was my perfect health; and what you might call a sort of +a sense of inner well-being. Added to that, there was my sensationally +successful career. And the money. + +All at once, almost anything I undertook to do was sensationally +successful. I wrote, in several different styles and fields and under a +number of different names; I was terrific. My painting was the talk of +the art world. "Superb," said the critics. "An astonishing +other-worldly quality." How right they were--even if they didn't know +why. I patented a few little inventions, just for fun; and I invested. +The money poured in so fast I couldn't count it. I hired people to +count it, and to help guide it through the tax loopholes--although +there I was able to give them a few sneaky little ideas that even our +sharpest tax lawyers hadn't worked out. + +Of course the catch in all that was that, actually, I was not so much a +rich, brilliant, successful man. I was a booming, prosperous nation. + +The satisfaction I could take in all my success was limited by my +knowledge that it was a group effort. How could I help being +successful? I had a very fair part of the resources of a society +substantially ahead of our own working for me. As for knowledge of our +world, they didn't just know everything I did. They knew everything I +ever had known--or seen, heard, read, dreamed or thought of. They could +dig up anything, explore it, expand it and use it in ways I couldn't +have worked out in a thousand years. Sure, I was successful. I did stay +out of sports--too dangerous; entertainment--didn't lend itself too +well to the group approach; and music--they had never developed or used +sound, and we agreed not to go into it. As I figured it, music in the +soul may be very beautiful; but a full-size symphony in a sinus I could +do without. + +So I had success. And there was another thing I had too. Company. + +Privacy? No, I had less privacy than any man who ever lived, although I +admit that my people, as long as I obeyed the rules, were never pushy +or intrusive. They didn't come barging into my thoughts unless I +invited them. But they were always ready. And if those nine years were +less than perfect, at least I was never lonesome. Success, with me, was +not a lonely thing. + +And there were women. + +Yes, there were women. And finally, at the end of it, there was a +woman--and that was it. + + +As they had explained it, they were prepared to be tolerant about +my--ah--relations with women as long as I was "reasonable" in my +selection. Come to find out, they were prepared to be not just tolerant +but insistent--and very selective. + +First there was Helga. + +Helga was Uncle John's secretary, a great big, healthy, rosy-cheeked, +blonde Swedish girl, terrific if you liked the type. Me, I hadn't ever +made a move in her direction, partly because she was so close to Uncle +John, but mostly because my tastes always ran to the smaller types. But +tastes can be changed. + +Ten days after that first conversation with my people I'd already +cleared something like $50,000 in a few speculations in the commodity +market. I was feeling a little moody in spite of it, and I decided to +quit my job. So I went up that afternoon to Uncle John's office to tell +him. + +Uncle John was out. Helga was in. There she was, five foot eleven of +big, bouncy, blonde smorgasbord. Wow! Before, I'd seen Helga a hundred +times, looked with mild admiration but not one real ripple inside. And +now, all at once, wow! That was my people, of course, manipulating +glands, thoughts, feelings. "Wow!" it was. + +First things first. "Helga, Doll! Ah! Where's Uncle John?" + +"Johnny! That's the first time you ever called me--hm-m--Mr. Barth has +gone for the day ... Johnny." + +She hadn't even looked at me before. My--uh--government was growing +more powerful. It was establishing outside spheres of influence. Of +course, at the time, I didn't take the trouble to analyze the +situation; I just went to work on it. + +As they say, it is nice work if you can get it. + +I could get it. + +It was a good thing Uncle John didn't come bustling back after +something he'd forgotten that afternoon. + +I didn't get around to quitting my job that afternoon. Later on that +evening, I took her home. She wanted me to come in and meet her +parents, yet! But I begged off that--and then she came up with a +snapper. "But we will be married, Johnny darling. Won't we? Real soon!" + +"Uh," I said, making a quick mental plane reservation for Rio, "sure, +Doll. Sure we will." I broke away right quick after that. There was a +problem I wanted to get a little advice on. + +What I did get, actually, was a nasty shock. + +Back in my apartment--my big, new, plush apartment--I sat down to go +over the thing with the Department of the Interior. The enthusiastic +response I got surprised me. "Magnificent," was the word. "Superb. +Great!" + +Well, I thought myself that I had turned in a pretty outstanding +performance, but I hadn't expected such applause. "It is a first step, +a splendid beginning! A fully equipped, well-armed expedition will have +the place settled, under cultivation and reasonably civilized inside of +a day or two, your time. It will be simple for them. So much more so +than in your case--since we now know precisely what to expect." + + +I was truly shocked. I felt guilty. "No!" I said. "Oh, no! What a thing +to do. You _can't_!" + +"Now, now. Gently," they said. "What, after all, oh Fatherland, might +be the perfectly natural consequences of your own act?" + +"What? You mean under other--that is----" + +"Exactly. You could very well have implanted a new life in her, which +is all that we have done. Why should our doing so disturb you?" + +Well, it did disturb me. But then, as they pointed out, they could have +developed less pleasant methods of spreading colonies. They had merely +decided that this approach would be the surest and simplest. + +"Well, maybe," I told them, "but it still seems kind of sneaky to me. +Besides, if you'd left it to me, I'd certainly never have picked a +great big ox like Helga. And now she says she's going to marry me, +too!" + +"You do not wish this? We understand. Do not be concerned. We +will--ah--send instructions to our people the next time. She will +change her feelings about this." + +She dropped the marriage bit completely. + +We had what you might call an idyllic association, in spite of her +being such a big, husky model--a fact which never bothered me when I +was with her. "She is happy," I was assured, "very happy." She seemed +pleased and contented enough, even if she developed, I thought, a sort +of an inward look about her. She and I never discussed our--uh--people. +We had a fast whirl for a couple of weeks. And then I'd quit my job +with Uncle John, and we sort of drifted apart. + +Next thing I heard of her, she married Uncle John. + +Well. I have my doubts about how faithful a wife she was to him, but +certainly she seemed to make him happy. And my government assured me +Uncle John was not colonized. "Too late," they said. "He is too old to +be worth the risk of settling." But they respected my scruples about my +uncle's wife and direct communication with Helgaland was broken off. + +But there were others. + + +IV + +For the next nine years--things came easy for me. I suppose the +restrictions, the lack of freedom should have made me a lot more +dissatisfied than I was. I know, though they didn't say so, that my +people did a little manipulating of my moods by jiggering the glands +and hormones or something. It must have been that with the women. + +I know that after Helga I felt guilty about the whole thing. I wouldn't +do it again. But then one afternoon I was painting that big amazon of a +model and--Wow! + +I couldn't help it. So, actually, I don't feel I should be blamed too +much if, after the first couple of times, I quit trying to desert, so +to speak. + +And time went by, although you wouldn't have guessed it to look at me. +I didn't age. My health was perfect. Well, there were a couple of very +light headaches and a touch of fever, but that was only politics. + +There were a couple of pretty tight elections which, of course, I +followed fairly closely. After all, I had my vote, along with everyone +else and I didn't want to waste it--even though, really, the political +parties were pretty much the same and the elections were more questions +of personality than anything else. + +Then one afternoon I went to my broker's office to shift around a few +investments according to plans worked out the night before. I gave my +instructions. Old man Henry Schnable checked over the notes he had +made. + +"Now that's a funny thing," he said. + +"You think I'm making a mistake?" + +"Oh, no. You never have yet, so I don't suppose you are now. The funny +thing is that your moves here are almost exactly the same as those +another very unusual customer of mine gave me over the phone not an +hour ago." + +"Oh?" There was nothing very interesting about that. But, oddly enough, +I was very interested. + +"Yes. Miss Julia Reede. Only a child really, 21, but a brilliant girl. +Possibly a genius. She comes from some little town up in the mountains. +She has been in town here for just the past six months and her +investments--well! Now I come to think about it, I believe they have +very closely paralleled yours all along the line. Fabulously +successful. You advising her?" + +"Never heard of the girl." + +"Well, you really should meet her, Mr. Barth. You two have so much in +common, and such lovely investments. Why don't you wait around? Miss +Reede is coming in to sign some papers this afternoon. You two should +know each other." + + +He was right. We _should_ know each other. I could feel it. + +"Well, Henry," I said, "perhaps I will wait. I've got nothing else to +do this afternoon." + +That was a lie. I had plenty of things to do, including a date with the +captain of a visiting women's track team from Finland. Strangely, my +people and I were in full agreement on standing up the chesty Finn, let +the javelins fall where they may. + +Henry was surprised too. "You are going to wait for her? Uh. Well now, +Mr. Barth, your reputation--ah--that is, she's only a child, you know, +from the country." + +The buzzer on his desk sounded. His secretary spoke up on the intercom. +"Miss Reede is here." + +Miss Reede came right on in the door without waiting for a further +invitation. + +We stood there gaping at each other. She was small, about 5'2" maybe, +with short, black, curly hair, surface-cool green eyes with fire +underneath, fresh, freckled nose, slim figure. Boyish? No. Not boyish. + +I stared, taking in every little detail. Every little detail was +perfect and--well, I can't begin to describe it. That was for me. I +could feel it all through me, she was what I had been waiting for, +dreaming of. + +I made a quick call on the inside switchboard, determined to fight to +override the veto I was sure was coming. I called. + +No answer. + +For the first time, I got no regular answer. Of course, by now I always +had a kind of a sense or feeling of what was going on. This time there +was a feeling of a celebration, rejoicing, everybody on a holiday. +Which was exactly the way I felt as I looked at the girl. No +objections? Then why ask questions? + +"Julia," old Henry Schnable was saying, "this is Mr. John Barth. John, +this is--John! John, remember----" + +I had reached out and taken the girl's hand. I tucked her arm in mine +and she looked up at me with the light, the fire in the green depths +swimming toward the surface. I didn't know what she saw in me--neither +of us knew then--but the light was there, glowing. We walked together +out of Henry Schnable's office. + +"John! Julia, your papers! You have to sign----" + +Business? We had business elsewhere, she and I. + +"Where?" I asked her in the elevator. It was the first word either of +us had spoken. + +"My apartment," she said in a voice like a husky torch song. "It's +close. The girl who rooms with me is spending the week back home with +her folks. The show she was in closed. We can be alone." + +We could. Five minutes in a cab and we were. + +I never experienced anything remotely like it in all my life. I never +will again. + + +And then there was the time afterwards, and then we knew. + +It was late afternoon, turning to dusk. She lifted up on one elbow +and half turned away from me to switch on the bedside lamp. The +light came on and I looked down at her, lovingly, admiringly. Idly, +I started to ask her, "How did you get those little scars on your +leg there and ... those little scars? Like buckshot! Julia! Once, +along about ten years ago--you must have been a little girl then--in +the mountains--sure. You were hit by a meteor, weren't you??" + +She turned and stared at me. I pointed at my own little pockmark scars. + +"A meteor--about ten years ago!" + +"Oh!" + +"I knew it. You were." + +"'Some damn fool, crazy hunter,' was what Pop said. He thought it +really was buckshot. So did I, at first. We all did. Of course about +six months later I found out what it was but we--my little people and +I--agreed there was no sense in my telling anyone. But you know." + +It was the other ship. There were two in this sector, each controlled +to colonize a person. My own group always hoped and believed the other +ship might have landed safely. And now they knew. + +We lay there, she and I, and we both checked internal communications. +They were confused, not clear and precise as usual. It was a holiday in +full swing. The glorious reunion! No one was working. No one was +willing to put in a lot of time at the communications center talking to +Julia and me. They were too busy talking to each other. I was right. +The other ship. + +Of course, since the other ship's landfall had been a little girl then, +the early movements of the group had been restricted. Expansion was +delayed. She grew up. She came to the city. Then--well, I didn't have +to think about that. + +We looked at each other, Julia and I. A doll she was in the first place +and a doll she still was. And then on top of that was the feeling of +community, of closeness coming from our people. There was a sympathy. +The two of us were in the same fix. And it may be that there was a +certain sense of jealousy and resentment too--like the feeling, say, +between North and South America. How did we feel? + +"I feel like a drink." + +We said it together and laughed. Then we got up and got the drinks. I +was glad to find that Julia's absent roommate, an actress, had a pretty +fair bar stock. + + +We had a drink. We had another. And a third. + +Maybe nobody at all was manning the inner duty stations. Or maybe they +were visiting back and forth, both populations in a holiday mood. They +figured this was a once in a millennium celebration and, for once, the +limits were off. Even alcohol was welcome. That's a line of thought +that kills plenty of people every day out on the highway. + +We had a couple more in a reckless toast. I kissed Julia. She kissed +me. Then we had some more drinks. + +Naturally it hit us hard; we weren't used to it. But still we didn't +stop drinking. The limits were off for the first time. Probably it +would never happen again. This was our chance of a lifetime and there +was a sort of desperation in it. We kept on drinking. + +"Woosh," I said, finally, "wow. Let's have one more, wha' say? One more +them--an' one more those." + +She giggled. "Aroun' an aroun', whoop, whoop! Dizzy. Woozy. Oughta have +cup coffee." + +"Naw. Not coffee. Gonna have hangover. Take pill. Apsirin." + +"Can-_not_! Can-_not_ take pill. Won' lemme. 'Gains talla rules." + +"Can." + +"Can-_not_." + +"Can. No rules. Rule soff. Can. Apsirin. C'mon." + +Clinging to each other, we stumbled to the bathroom. Pills? The +roommate must have been a real hypochondriac. She had rows and +batteries of pills. I knocked a bottle off the cabinet shelf. Aspirin? +Sure, fancy aspirin. Blue, special. I took a couple. + +"Apsirin. See? Easy." + +Her mouth made a little, red, round "O" of wonder. She took a couple. + +"Gosh! Firs' time I c'd ever take a pill." + +"Good. Have 'nother?" + +It was crazy, sure. The two of us were drunk. But it was more than +that. We were like a couple of wild, irresponsible kids, out of control +and running wild through the pill boxes. We reeled around the bathroom, +sampling pills and laughing. + +"Here's nice bottla red ones." + +There was a nice bottle of red ones. I fumbled the top off the bottle +and spilled the bright red pills bouncing across the white tile +bathroom floor. We dropped to our knees after them, after the red +pills, the red dots, the red, fiery moons, spinning suddenly, whirling, +twirling, racing across the white floor. And then it got dark. Dark, +and darker and even the red, red moons faded away. + +Some eons later, light began to come back and the red moons, dim now +and pallid, whirled languidly across a white ceiling. + + +Someone said, "He's coming out of it, I think." + +"Oh," I said. "Ugh!" + +I didn't feel good. I'd almost forgotten what it was like, but I was +sick. Awful. I didn't particularly want to look around but I did, eyes +moving rustily in their sockets. There was a nurse and a doctor. They +were standing by my bed in what was certainly a hospital. + +"Don't ask," said the doctor. I wasn't going to. I didn't even care +where I was, but he told me anyway, "You are in the South Side +Hospital, Mr. Barth. You will be all right--which is a wonder, +considering. Remarkable stamina! Please tell me, Mr. Barth, what kind +of lunatic suicide pact was that?" + +"Suicide pact?" + +"Yes, Mr. Barth. Why couldn't you have settled for just one simple +poison, hm-m? The lab has been swearing at you all day." + +"Uh?" + +"Yes. At what we pumped from your stomach. And found in the girl's. +Liquor, lots of that--but then, why aspirin? Barbiturates we expect. +Roach pellets are not unusual. But aureomycin? Tranquilizers? Bufferin? +Vitamin B complex, vitamin C--and, finally, half a dozen highly +questionable contraceptive pills? Good Lord, man!" + +"It was an accident. The girl--Julia----?" + +"You are lucky. She wasn't." + +"Dead?" + +"Yes, Mr. Barth. She is dead." + +"Doctor, listen to me! It was an accident, I swear. We didn't know what +we were doing. We were, well, celebrating." + +"In the medicine cabinet, Mr. Barth? Queer place to be celebrating! +Well, Mr. Barth, you must rest now. You have been through a lot. It was +a near thing. The police will be in to see you later." + +With this kindly word the doctor and his silently disapproving nurse +filed out of the room. + +The police? Julia, poor Julia--dead. + +Now what? What should I do? I turned, as always, inward for advice and +instructions. "Folks! Why didn't you stop me? Why did you let me do it? +And now--what shall I do? Answer me, I say. Answer!" + +There was only an emptiness. It was a hollow, aching sensation. It +seemed to me I could hear my questions echoing inside me with a lonely +sound. + +I was alone. For the first time in nearly ten years, I was truly alone, +with no one to turn to. + +They were gone! At last, after all these years, they were gone. I was +free again, truly free. It was glorious to be free--wasn't it? + +The sheer joy of the thing brought a tightness to my throat, and I +sniffled. I sniffled again. My nose was stuffy. The tightness in my +throat grew tighter and became a pain. + +I sneezed. + +Was this joy--or a cold coming on? I shifted uneasily on the hospital +bed and scratched at an itch on my left hip. Ouch! It was a pimple. My +head ached. My throat hurt. I itched. Julia was dead. The police were +coming. I was alone. What should I do? + +"Nurse!" I shouted at the top of my voice. "Nurse, come here. I want to +send a wire. Rush. Urgent. To my aunt, Mrs. Helga Barth, the address is +in my wallet. Say, 'Helga. Am desperately ill, repeat, ill. Please come +at once. I must have help--from you.'" + +She'll come. I know she will. They've _got_ to let her. It was an +accident, I swear, and I'm not too old. I'm still in wonderful shape, +beautifully kept up. + +But I feel awful. + +Well--how do you suppose New England would feel today, if suddenly all +of its inhabitants died? + + +--WILLIAM W. STUART + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Inside John Barth, by William W. 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