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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29503-h.zip b/29503-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b75e9d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/29503-h.zip diff --git a/29503-h/29503-h.htm b/29503-h/29503-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44323d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/29503-h/29503-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1343 @@ +<!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=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hated, by Paul Flehr + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .noin,.cap {text-indent: 0em;} + body > p {text-indent: 1em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: left; clear: both;} + h1,.bk1 {margin-left: 40%;} + h2,.bk2 {margin-left: 30%;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .rgt {text-align: right;} + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 1em; padding: 0; width: 353px;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 152px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .bk1,.bk3 {width: 20em;} + .bk1 p,.bk2 p {margin-top: 2em;} + .bk2 p {margin-bottom: 4em;} + .bk3 {margin: 1em auto; clear: both;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hated, by Frederik Pohl + +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 Hated + +Author: Frederik Pohl + +Illustrator: Dick Francis + +Release Date: July 24, 2009 [EBook #29503] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HATED *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><big>THE HATED</big></h1> + +<h2>By PAUL FLEHR</h2> + +<div class="bk1"><p><big><b><i>After space, there was always +one more river to cross ... the +far side of hatred and murder!</i></b></big></p></div> + +<div class="bk2"><p><b>Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS</b></p></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> bar didn't have a name. +No name of any kind. Not +even an indication that it +had ever had one. All it said on the +outside was:</p> + +<div class="bk3"><p class="center">Cafe<br /> +EAT<br /> +<i>Cocktails</i></p></div> + +<p class="noin">which doesn't make a lot of sense. +But it was a bar. It had a big TV +set going ya-ta-ta ya-ta-ta in three +glorious colors, and a jukebox that +tried to drown out the TV with +that lousy music they play. Anyway, +it wasn't a kid hangout. I +kind of like it. But I wasn't supposed +to be there at all; it's in the +contract. I was supposed to stay +in New York and the New England +states.</p> + +<p>Cafe-EAT-<i>Cocktails</i> was right +across the river. I think the name +of the place was Hoboken, but +I'm not sure. It all had a kind +of dreamy feeling to it. I was—</p> + +<p>Well, I couldn't even remember +going there. I remembered one +minute I was downtown New +York, looking across the river. I +did that a lot. And then I was +there. I don't remember crossing +the river at all.</p> + +<p>I was drunk, you know.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">You</span> know how it is? Double +bourbons and keep them coming. +And after a while the bartender +stops bringing me the ginger +ale because gradually I forget to +mix them. I got pretty loaded long +before I left New York. I realize +that. I guess I had to get pretty +loaded to risk the pension and all.</p> + +<p>Used to be I didn't drink much, +but now, I don't know, when I +have one drink, I get to thinking +about Sam and Wally and Chowderhead +and Gilvey and the captain. +If I don't drink, I think about +them, too, and then I take a drink. +And that leads to another drink, +and it all comes out to the same +thing. Well, I guess I said it already, +I drink a pretty good +amount, but you can't blame me.</p> + +<p>There was a girl.</p> + +<p>I always get a girl someplace. +Usually they aren't much and this +one wasn't either. I mean she was +probably somebody's mother. She +was around thirty-five and not so +bad, though she had a long scar +under her ear down along her +throat to the little round spot +where her larynx was. It wasn't +ugly. She smelled nice—while I +could still smell, you know—and +she didn't talk much. I liked that. +Only—</p> + +<p>Well, did you ever meet somebody +with a nervous cough? Like +when you say something funny—a +little funny, not a big yock—they +don't laugh and they don't +stop with just smiling, but they +sort of cough? She did that. I began +to itch. I couldn't help it. I +asked her to stop it.</p> + +<p>She spilled her drink and looked +at me almost as though she was +scared—and I had tried to say it +quietly, too.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," she said, a little angry, +a little scared. "<i>Sorry.</i> But you +don't have to—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it."</p> + +<p>"Sure. But you asked me to sit +down here with you, remember? +If you're going to—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Forget it!</i>" I nodded at the +bartender and held up two fingers. +"You need another drink," I said. +"The thing is," I said, "Gilvey used +to do that."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"That cough."</p> + +<p>She looked puzzled. "You mean +like this?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Goddam it, stop it!</i>" Even the +bartender looked over at me that +time. Now she was really mad, +but I didn't want her to go away. +I said, "Gilvey was a fellow who +went to Mars with me. Pat Gilvey."</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh.</i>" She sat down again and +leaned across the table, low. +"<i>Mars.</i>"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> bartender brought our +drinks and looked at me suspiciously. +I said, "Say, Mac, would +you turn down the air-conditioning?"</p> + +<p>"My name isn't Mac. No."</p> + +<p>"Have a heart. It's too cold in +here."</p> + +<p>"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry.</p> + +<p>I was cold. I mean that kind of +weather, it's always cold in those +places. You know around New +York in August? It hits eighty, +eighty-five, ninety. All the places +have air-conditioning and what +they really want is for you to wear +a shirt and tie.</p> + +<p>But I like to walk a lot. You +would, too, you know. And you +can't walk around much in long +pants and a suit coat and all that +stuff. Not around there. Not in +August. And so then, when I went +into a bar, it'd have one of those +built-in freezers for the used-car +salesmen with their dates, or maybe +their wives, all dressed up. For +what? But I froze.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mars</i>," the girl breathed. +"<i>Mars.</i>"</p> + +<p>I began to itch again. "Want +to dance?"</p> + +<p>"They don't have a license," +she said. "Byron, <i>I</i> didn't know +you'd been to <i>Mars</i>! Please <i>tell</i> me +about it."</p> + +<p>"It was all right," I said.</p> + +<p>That was a lie.</p> + +<p>She was interested. She forgot +to smile. It made her look nicer. +She said, "I knew a man—my +brother-in-law—he was my husband's +brother—I mean my ex-husband—"</p> + +<p>"I get the idea."</p> + +<p>"He worked for General Atomic. +In Rockford, Illinois. You know +where that is?"</p> + +<p>"Sure." I couldn't go there, but +I knew where Illinois was.</p> + +<p>"He worked on the first Mars +ship. Oh, fifteen years ago, wasn't +it? He always wanted to go himself, +but he couldn't pass the tests." +She stopped and looked at me.</p> + +<p>I knew what she was thinking. +But I didn't always look this way, +you know. Not that there's anything +wrong with me now, I mean, +but I couldn't pass the tests any +more. Nobody can. That's why +we're all one-trippers.</p> + +<p>I said, "The only reason I'm +shaking like this is because I'm +cold."</p> + +<p>It wasn't true, of course. It was +that cough of Gilvey's. I didn't +like to think about Gilvey, or Sam +or Chowderhead or Wally or the +captain. I didn't like to think +about any of them. It made me +shake.</p> + +<p>You see, we couldn't kill each +other. They wouldn't let us do +that. Before we took off, they did +something to our minds to make +sure. What they did, it doesn't +last forever. It lasts for two years +and then it wears off. That's long +enough, you see, because that gets +you to Mars and back; and it's +plenty long enough, in another +way, because it's like a strait-jacket.</p> + +<p>You know how to make a baby +cry? Hold his hands. It's the most +basic thing there is. What they did +to us so we couldn't kill each +other, it was like being tied up, +like having our hands held so we +couldn't get free. Well. But two +years was long enough. Too long.</p> + +<p>The bartender came over and +said, "Pal, I'm sorry. See, I turned +the air-conditioning down. You all +right? You look so—"</p> + +<p>I said, "Sure, I'm all right."</p> + +<p>He sounded worried. I hadn't +even heard him come back. The +girl was looking worried, too, I +guess because I was shaking so +hard I was spilling my drink. I +put some money on the table +without even counting it.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," I said. "We were +just going."</p> + +<p>"We were?" She looked confused. +But she came along with +me. They always do, once they +find out you've been to Mars.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">In</span> the next place, she said, between +trips to the powder +room, "It must take a lot of +courage to sign up for something +like that. Were you scientifically +inclined in school? Don't you have +to know an awful lot to be a space-flyer? +Did you ever see any of +those little monkey characters they +say live on Mars? I read an article +about how they lived in little +cities of pup-tents or something +like that—only they didn't make +them, they grew them. Funny! +Ever see those? That trip must +have been a real drag, I bet. What +is it, nine months? You couldn't +have a baby! Excuse me— Say, tell +me. All that time, how'd you—well, +manage things? I mean didn't you +ever have to go to the you-know +or anything?"</p> + +<p>"We managed," I said.</p> + +<p>She giggled, and that reminded +her, so she went to the powder +room again. I thought about getting +up and leaving while she was +gone, but what was the use of that? +I'd only pick up somebody else.</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight. A couple +of minutes wouldn't hurt. I reached +in my pocket for the little box +of pills they give us—it isn't refillable, +but we get a new prescription +in the mail every month, along +with the pension check. The label +on the box said:</p> + +<div class="bk3"><p class="center">CAUTION</p> + +<p><i>Use only as directed by physician. +Not to be taken by +persons suffering heart condition, +digestive upset or circulatory +disease. Not to be +used in conjunction with alcoholic +beverages.</i></p></div> + +<p>I took three of them. I don't +like to start them before midnight, +but anyway I stopped shaking.</p> + +<p>I closed my eyes, and then I +was on the ship again. The noise +in the bar became the noise of +the rockets and the air washers +and the sludge sluicers. I began +to sweat, although this place was +air-conditioned, too.</p> + +<p>I could hear Wally whistling to +himself the way he did, the sound +muffled by his oxygen mask and +drowned in the rocket noise, but +still perfectly audible. The tune +was <i>Sophisticated Lady</i>. Sometimes +it was <i>Easy to Love</i> and +sometimes <i>Chasing Shadows</i>, but +mostly <i>Sophisticated Lady</i>. He +was from Juilliard.</p> + +<p>Somebody sneezed, and it +sounded just like Chowderhead +sneezing. You know how everybody +sneezes according to his own +individual style? Chowderhead +had a ladylike little sneeze; it +went <i>hutta</i>, real quick, all through +the mouth, no nose involved. The +captain went <i>Hrasssh</i>; Wally was +Ashoo, ashoo, <i>ashoo</i>. Gilvey was +<i>Hutch</i>-uh. Sam didn't sneeze much, +but he sort of coughed and +sprayed, and that was worse.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I used to think about +killing Sam by tying him down +and having Wally and the captain +sneeze him to death. But that +was a kind of a joke, naturally, +when I was feeling good. Or pretty +good. Usually I thought about a +knife for Sam. For Chowderhead +it was a gun, right in the belly, +one shot. For Wally it was a tommy +gun—just stitching him up and +down, you know, back and forth. +The captain I would put in a cage +with hungry lions, and Gilvey I'd +strangle with my bare hands. That +was probably because of the cough, +I guess.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">She</span> was back. "Please tell me +about it," she begged. "I'm <i>so</i> +curious."</p> + +<p>I opened my eyes. "You want +me to tell you about it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please!"</p> + +<p>"About what it's like to fly to +Mars on a rocket?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"All right," I said.</p> + +<p>It's wonderful what three little +white pills will do. I wasn't even +shaking.</p> + +<p>"There's six men, see? In a +space the size of a Buick, and +that's all the room there is. Two +of us in the bunks all the time, +four of us on watch. Maybe you +want to stay in the sack an extra +ten minutes—because it's the only +place on the ship where you can +stretch out, you know, the only +place where you can rest without +somebody's elbow in your side. +But you can't. Because by then +it's the next man's turn.</p> + +<p>"And maybe you don't have elbows +in your side while it's your +turn off watch, but in the starboard +bunk there's the air-regenerator +master valve—I bet I +could still show you the bruises +right around my kidneys—and in +the port bunk there's the emergency-escape-hatch +handle. That gets +you right in the temple, if you +turn your head too fast.</p> + +<p>"And you can't really sleep, I +mean not soundly, because of the +noise. That is, when the rockets +are going. When they aren't going, +then you're in free-fall, and +that's bad, too, because you dream +about falling. But when they're going, +I don't know, I think it's worse. +It's pretty loud.</p> + +<p>"And even if it weren't for the +noise, if you sleep too soundly you +might roll over on your oxygen +line. Then you dream about drowning. +Ever do that? You're strangling +and choking and you can't +get any air? It isn't dangerous, I +guess. Anyway, it always woke me +up in time. Though I heard about +a fellow in a flight six years ago—</p> + +<p>"Well. So you've always got +this oxygen mask on, all the time, +except if you take it off for a second +to talk to somebody. You +don't do that very often, because +what is there to say? Oh, maybe +the first couple of weeks, sure—everybody's +friends then. You +don't even need the mask, for that +matter. Or not very much. Everybody's +still pretty clean. The place +smells—oh, let's see—about like the +locker room in a gym. You know? +You can stand it. That's if nobody's +got space sickness, of +course. We were lucky that way.</p> + +<p>"But that's about how it's going +to get anyway, you know. Outside +the masks, it's soup. It isn't that +you smell it so much. You kind of +<i>taste</i> it, in the back of your mouth, +and your eyes sting. That's after +the first two or three months. Later +on, it gets worse.</p> + +<p>"And with the mask on, of +course, the oxygen mixture is coming +in under pressure. That's funny +if you're not used to it. Your +lungs have to work a little bit +harder to get rid of it, especially +when you're asleep, so after a +while the muscles get sore. And +then they get sorer. And then—</p> + +<p>"Well.</p> + +<p>"Before we take off, the psych +people give us a long doo-da that +keeps us from killing each other. +But they can't stop us from thinking +about it. And afterward, after +we're back on Earth—this is what +you won't read about in the articles—they +keep us apart. You +know how they work it? We get a +pension, naturally. I mean there's +got to be a pension, otherwise there +isn't enough money in the world +to make anybody go. But in the +contract, it says to get the pension +we have to stay in our own area.</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/001.png" width="353" height="500" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<p>"The whole country's marked +off. Six sections. Each has at least +one big city in it. I was lucky, I +got a lot of them. They try to +keep it so every man's home town +is in his own section, but—well, +like with us, Chowderhead and the +captain both happened to come +from Santa Monica. I think it +was Chowderhead that got California, +Nevada, all that Southwest +area. It was the luck of the +draw. God knows what the captain +got.</p> + +<p>"Maybe New Jersey," I said, +and took another white pill.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">We</span> went on to another place +and she said suddenly, "I +figured something out. The way +you keep looking around."</p> + +<p>"What did you figure out?"</p> + +<p>"Well, part of it was what you +said about the other fellow getting +New Jersey. This is New Jersey. +You don't belong in this section, +right?"</p> + +<p>"Right," I said after a minute.</p> + +<p>"So why are you here? I know +why. You're here because you're +looking for somebody."</p> + +<p>"That's right."</p> + +<p>She said triumphantly, "You +want to find that other fellow from +your crew! You want to fight +him!"</p> + +<p>I couldn't help shaking, white +pills or no white pills. But I had +to correct her.</p> + +<p>"No. I want to kill him."</p> + +<p>"How do you know he's here? +He's got a lot of states to roam +around in, too, doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Six. New Jersey, Pennsylvania, +Delaware, Maryland—all the way +down to Washington."</p> + +<p>"Then how do you know—"</p> + +<p>"He'll be here." I didn't have to +tell her how I knew. But I knew.</p> + +<p>I wasn't the only one who spent +his time at the border of his assigned +area, looking across the +river or staring across a state line, +knowing that somebody was on +the other side. I knew. You fight +a war and you don't have to guess +that the enemy might have his +troops a thousand miles away from +the battle line. You know where +his troops will be. You know he +wants to fight, too.</p> + +<p><i>Hutta. Hutta.</i></p> + +<p>I spilled my drink.</p> + +<p>I looked at her. "You—you +didn't—"</p> + +<p>She looked frightened. "What's +the matter?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Did you just sneeze?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Sneeze? Me? Did I—"</p> + +<p>I said something quick and +nasty, I don't know what. No! It +hadn't been her. I knew it.</p> + +<p>It was Chowderhead's sneeze.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Chowderhead</span>. Marvin T. +Roebuck, his name was. Five +feet eight inches tall. Dark-complected, +with a cast in one eye. +Spoke with a Midwest kind of +accent, even though he came from +California—"shrick" for "shriek," +"hawror" for "horror," like that. It +drove me crazy after a while. Maybe +that gives you an idea what he +talked about mostly. A skunk. A +thoroughgoing, deep-rooted, mother-murdering +skunk.</p> + +<p>I kicked over my chair and +roared, "Roebuck! Where are you, +damn you?"</p> + +<p>The bar was all at once silent. +Only the jukebox kept going.</p> + +<p>"I know you're here!" I +screamed. "Come out and get it! +You louse, I told you I'd get you +for calling me a liar the day Wally +sneaked a smoke!"</p> + +<p>Silence, everybody looking at +me.</p> + +<p>Then the door of the men's room +opened.</p> + +<p>He came out.</p> + +<p>He looked <i>lousy</i>. Eyes all red-rimmed +and his hair falling out—the +poor crumb couldn't have been +over twenty-nine. He shrieked, +"You!" He called me a million +names. He said, "You thieving +rat, I'll teach you to try to cheat +me out of my candy ration!"</p> + +<p>He had a knife.</p> + +<p>I didn't care. I didn't have anything +and that was stupid, but it +didn't matter. I got a bottle of +beer from the next table and +smashed it against the back of a +chair. It made a good weapon, you +know; I'd take that against a knife +any time.</p> + +<p>I ran toward him, and he came +all staggering and lurching toward +me, looking crazy and desperate, +mumbling and raving—I could +hardly hear him, because I was +talking, too. Nobody tried to stop +us. Somebody went out the door +and I figured it was to call the +cops, but that was all right. Once +I took care of Chowderhead, I +didn't care what the cops did.</p> + +<p>I went for the face.</p> + +<p>He cut me first. I felt the knife +slide up along my left arm but, +you know, it didn't even hurt, only +kind of stung a little. I didn't care +about that. I got him in the face, +and the bottle came away, and it +was all like gray and white jelly, +and then blood began to spring +out. He screamed. Oh, that scream! +I never heard anything like that +scream. It was what I had been +waiting all my life for.</p> + +<p>I kicked him as he staggered +back, and he fell. And I was on +top of him, with the bottle, and +I was careful to stay away from +the heart or the throat, because +that was too quick, but I worked +over the face, and I felt his knife +get me a couple times more, and—</p> + +<p>And—</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">And</span> I woke up, you know. And +there was Dr. Santly over me +with a hypodermic needle that he'd +just taken out of my arm, and four +male nurses in fatigues holding +me down. And I was drenched +with sweat.</p> + +<p>For a minute, I didn't know +where I was. It was a horrible +queasy falling sensation, as though +the bar and the fight and the +world were all dissolving into +smoke around me.</p> + +<p>Then I knew where I was.</p> + +<p>It was almost worse.</p> + +<p>I stopped yelling and just lay +there, looking up at them.</p> + +<p>Dr. Santly said, trying to keep +his face friendly and noncommittal, +"You're doing much better, +Byron, boy. <i>Much</i> better."</p> + +<p>I didn't say anything.</p> + +<p>He said, "You worked through +the whole thing in two hours and +eight minutes. Remember the first +time? You were sixteen hours killing +him. Captain Van Wyck it was +that time, remember? Who was it +this time?"</p> + +<p>"Chowderhead." I looked at the +male nurses. Doubtfully, they let +go of my arms and legs.</p> + +<p>"Chowderhead," said Dr. Santly. +"Oh—Roebuck. That boy," he +said mournfully, his expression +saddened, "he's not coming along +nearly as well as you. <i>Nearly.</i> He +can't run through a cycle in less +than five hours. And, that's peculiar, +it's usually you he— Well, +I better not say that, shall I? No +sense setting up a counter-impression +when your pores are all open, +so to speak?" He smiled at me, +but he was a little worried in back +of the smile.</p> + +<p>I sat up. "Anybody got a cigarette?"</p> + +<p>"Give him a cigarette, Johnson," +the doctor ordered the male nurse +standing alongside my right foot.</p> + +<p>Johnson did. I fired up.</p> + +<p>"You're coming along <i>splendidly</i>," +Dr. Santly said. He was one +of these psych guys that thinks if +you say it's so, it makes it so. You +know that kind? "We'll have you +down under an hour before the +end of the week. That's <i>marvelous</i> +progress. Then we can work on the +conscious level! You're doing extremely +well, whether you know it +or not. Why, in six months—say +in eight months, because I like +to be conservative—" he twinkled +at me—"we'll have you out of +here! You'll be the first of your +crew to be discharged, you know +that?"</p> + +<p>"That's nice," I said. "The others +aren't doing so well?"</p> + +<p>"No. Not at all well, most of +them. Particularly Dr. Gilvey. The +run-throughs leave him in terrible +shape. I don't mind admitting I'm +worried about him."</p> + +<p>"That's nice," I said, and this +time I meant it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He</span> looked at me thoughtfully, +but all he did was say to the +male nurses, "He's all right now. +Help him off the table."</p> + +<p>It was hard standing up. I had +to hold onto the rail around the +table for a minute. I said my set +little speech: "Dr. Santly, I want +to tell you again how grateful I +am for this. I was reconciled to +living the rest of my life confined +to one part of the country, the +way the other crews always did. +But this is much better. I appreciate +it. I'm sure the others do, +too."</p> + +<p>"Of course, boy. Of course." He +took out a fountain pen and made +a note on my chart; I couldn't +see what it was, but he looked +gratified. "It's no more than you +have coming to you, Byron," he +said. "I'm grateful that I could +be the one to make it come to +pass."</p> + +<p>He glanced conspiratorially at +the male nurses. "You know how +important this is to me. It's the +triumph of a whole new approach +to psychic rehabilitation. I mean +to say our heroes of space travel +are entitled to freedom when they +come back home to Earth, aren't +they?"</p> + +<p>"Definitely," I said, scrubbing +some of the sweat off my face +onto my sleeve.</p> + +<p>"So we've got to end this system +of designated areas. We can't +avoid the tensions that accompany +space travel, no. But if we can +help you eliminate harmful tensions +with a few run-throughs, why, +it's not too high a price to pay, +is it?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit."</p> + +<p>"I mean to say," he said, warming +up, "you can look forward +to the time when you'll be able to +mingle with your old friends from +the rocket, free and easy, without +any need for restraint. That's a lot +to look forward to, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It is," I said. "I look forward +to it very much," I said. "And I +know exactly what I'm going to +do the first time I meet one—I +mean without any restraints, as +you say," I said. And it was true; +I did. Only it wouldn't be a broken +beer bottle that I would do it +with.</p> + +<p>I had much more elaborate ideas +than that.</p> + +<p class="rgt"><b>—PAUL FLEHR</b></p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="152" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Galaxy Science Fiction</i> January 1958. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hated, by Frederik Pohl + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HATED *** + +***** This file should be named 29503-h.htm or 29503-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/5/0/29503/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell 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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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 Hated + +Author: Frederik Pohl + +Illustrator: Dick Francis + +Release Date: July 24, 2009 [EBook #29503] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HATED *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE HATED + +By PAUL FLEHR + + + _After space, there was always + one more river to cross ... the + far side of hatred and murder!_ + + +Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS + + +The bar didn't have a name. No name of any kind. Not even an indication +that it had ever had one. All it said on the outside was: + + Cafe + EAT + _Cocktails_ + +which doesn't make a lot of sense. But it was a bar. It had a big TV set +going ya-ta-ta ya-ta-ta in three glorious colors, and a jukebox that +tried to drown out the TV with that lousy music they play. Anyway, it +wasn't a kid hangout. I kind of like it. But I wasn't supposed to be +there at all; it's in the contract. I was supposed to stay in New York +and the New England states. + +Cafe-EAT-_Cocktails_ was right across the river. I think the name of the +place was Hoboken, but I'm not sure. It all had a kind of dreamy feeling +to it. I was-- + +Well, I couldn't even remember going there. I remembered one minute I +was downtown New York, looking across the river. I did that a lot. And +then I was there. I don't remember crossing the river at all. + +I was drunk, you know. + + * * * * * + +You know how it is? Double bourbons and keep them coming. And after a +while the bartender stops bringing me the ginger ale because gradually I +forget to mix them. I got pretty loaded long before I left New York. I +realize that. I guess I had to get pretty loaded to risk the pension and +all. + +Used to be I didn't drink much, but now, I don't know, when I have one +drink, I get to thinking about Sam and Wally and Chowderhead and Gilvey +and the captain. If I don't drink, I think about them, too, and then I +take a drink. And that leads to another drink, and it all comes out to +the same thing. Well, I guess I said it already, I drink a pretty good +amount, but you can't blame me. + +There was a girl. + +I always get a girl someplace. Usually they aren't much and this one +wasn't either. I mean she was probably somebody's mother. She was around +thirty-five and not so bad, though she had a long scar under her ear +down along her throat to the little round spot where her larynx was. It +wasn't ugly. She smelled nice--while I could still smell, you know--and +she didn't talk much. I liked that. Only-- + +Well, did you ever meet somebody with a nervous cough? Like when you say +something funny--a little funny, not a big yock--they don't laugh and +they don't stop with just smiling, but they sort of cough? She did that. +I began to itch. I couldn't help it. I asked her to stop it. + +She spilled her drink and looked at me almost as though she was +scared--and I had tried to say it quietly, too. + +"Sorry," she said, a little angry, a little scared. "_Sorry._ But you +don't have to--" + +"Forget it." + +"Sure. But you asked me to sit down here with you, remember? If you're +going to--" + +"_Forget it!_" I nodded at the bartender and held up two fingers. "You +need another drink," I said. "The thing is," I said, "Gilvey used to do +that." + +"What?" + +"That cough." + +She looked puzzled. "You mean like this?" + +"_Goddam it, stop it!_" Even the bartender looked over at me that time. +Now she was really mad, but I didn't want her to go away. I said, +"Gilvey was a fellow who went to Mars with me. Pat Gilvey." + +"_Oh._" She sat down again and leaned across the table, low. "_Mars._" + + * * * * * + +The bartender brought our drinks and looked at me suspiciously. I said, +"Say, Mac, would you turn down the air-conditioning?" + +"My name isn't Mac. No." + +"Have a heart. It's too cold in here." + +"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry. + +I was cold. I mean that kind of weather, it's always cold in those +places. You know around New York in August? It hits eighty, eighty-five, +ninety. All the places have air-conditioning and what they really want +is for you to wear a shirt and tie. + +But I like to walk a lot. You would, too, you know. And you can't walk +around much in long pants and a suit coat and all that stuff. Not around +there. Not in August. And so then, when I went into a bar, it'd have one +of those built-in freezers for the used-car salesmen with their dates, +or maybe their wives, all dressed up. For what? But I froze. + +"_Mars_," the girl breathed. "_Mars._" + +I began to itch again. "Want to dance?" + +"They don't have a license," she said. "Byron, _I_ didn't know you'd +been to _Mars_! Please _tell_ me about it." + +"It was all right," I said. + +That was a lie. + +She was interested. She forgot to smile. It made her look nicer. She +said, "I knew a man--my brother-in-law--he was my husband's brother--I +mean my ex-husband--" + +"I get the idea." + +"He worked for General Atomic. In Rockford, Illinois. You know where +that is?" + +"Sure." I couldn't go there, but I knew where Illinois was. + +"He worked on the first Mars ship. Oh, fifteen years ago, wasn't it? He +always wanted to go himself, but he couldn't pass the tests." She +stopped and looked at me. + +I knew what she was thinking. But I didn't always look this way, you +know. Not that there's anything wrong with me now, I mean, but I +couldn't pass the tests any more. Nobody can. That's why we're all +one-trippers. + +I said, "The only reason I'm shaking like this is because I'm cold." + +It wasn't true, of course. It was that cough of Gilvey's. I didn't like +to think about Gilvey, or Sam or Chowderhead or Wally or the captain. I +didn't like to think about any of them. It made me shake. + +You see, we couldn't kill each other. They wouldn't let us do that. +Before we took off, they did something to our minds to make sure. What +they did, it doesn't last forever. It lasts for two years and then it +wears off. That's long enough, you see, because that gets you to Mars +and back; and it's plenty long enough, in another way, because it's like +a strait-jacket. + +You know how to make a baby cry? Hold his hands. It's the most basic +thing there is. What they did to us so we couldn't kill each other, it +was like being tied up, like having our hands held so we couldn't get +free. Well. But two years was long enough. Too long. + +The bartender came over and said, "Pal, I'm sorry. See, I turned the +air-conditioning down. You all right? You look so--" + +I said, "Sure, I'm all right." + +He sounded worried. I hadn't even heard him come back. The girl was +looking worried, too, I guess because I was shaking so hard I was +spilling my drink. I put some money on the table without even counting +it. + +"It's all right," I said. "We were just going." + +"We were?" She looked confused. But she came along with me. They always +do, once they find out you've been to Mars. + + * * * * * + +In the next place, she said, between trips to the powder room, "It must +take a lot of courage to sign up for something like that. Were you +scientifically inclined in school? Don't you have to know an awful lot +to be a space-flyer? Did you ever see any of those little monkey +characters they say live on Mars? I read an article about how they lived +in little cities of pup-tents or something like that--only they didn't +make them, they grew them. Funny! Ever see those? That trip must have +been a real drag, I bet. What is it, nine months? You couldn't have a +baby! Excuse me-- Say, tell me. All that time, how'd you--well, manage +things? I mean didn't you ever have to go to the you-know or anything?" + +"We managed," I said. + +She giggled, and that reminded her, so she went to the powder room +again. I thought about getting up and leaving while she was gone, but +what was the use of that? I'd only pick up somebody else. + +It was nearly midnight. A couple of minutes wouldn't hurt. I reached in +my pocket for the little box of pills they give us--it isn't refillable, +but we get a new prescription in the mail every month, along with the +pension check. The label on the box said: + + CAUTION + + _Use only as directed by physician. Not to be taken by persons + suffering heart condition, digestive upset or circulatory disease. + Not to be used in conjunction with alcoholic beverages._ + +I took three of them. I don't like to start them before midnight, but +anyway I stopped shaking. + +I closed my eyes, and then I was on the ship again. The noise in the bar +became the noise of the rockets and the air washers and the sludge +sluicers. I began to sweat, although this place was air-conditioned, +too. + +I could hear Wally whistling to himself the way he did, the sound +muffled by his oxygen mask and drowned in the rocket noise, but still +perfectly audible. The tune was _Sophisticated Lady_. Sometimes it was +_Easy to Love_ and sometimes _Chasing Shadows_, but mostly +_Sophisticated Lady_. He was from Juilliard. + +Somebody sneezed, and it sounded just like Chowderhead sneezing. You +know how everybody sneezes according to his own individual style? +Chowderhead had a ladylike little sneeze; it went _hutta_, real quick, +all through the mouth, no nose involved. The captain went _Hrasssh_; +Wally was Ashoo, ashoo, _ashoo_. Gilvey was _Hutch_-uh. Sam didn't +sneeze much, but he sort of coughed and sprayed, and that was worse. + +Sometimes I used to think about killing Sam by tying him down and having +Wally and the captain sneeze him to death. But that was a kind of a +joke, naturally, when I was feeling good. Or pretty good. Usually I +thought about a knife for Sam. For Chowderhead it was a gun, right in +the belly, one shot. For Wally it was a tommy gun--just stitching him up +and down, you know, back and forth. The captain I would put in a cage +with hungry lions, and Gilvey I'd strangle with my bare hands. That was +probably because of the cough, I guess. + + * * * * * + +She was back. "Please tell me about it," she begged. "I'm _so_ curious." + +I opened my eyes. "You want me to tell you about it?" + +"Oh, please!" + +"About what it's like to fly to Mars on a rocket?" + +"Yes!" + +"All right," I said. + +It's wonderful what three little white pills will do. I wasn't even +shaking. + +"There's six men, see? In a space the size of a Buick, and that's all +the room there is. Two of us in the bunks all the time, four of us on +watch. Maybe you want to stay in the sack an extra ten minutes--because +it's the only place on the ship where you can stretch out, you know, the +only place where you can rest without somebody's elbow in your side. But +you can't. Because by then it's the next man's turn. + +"And maybe you don't have elbows in your side while it's your turn off +watch, but in the starboard bunk there's the air-regenerator master +valve--I bet I could still show you the bruises right around my +kidneys--and in the port bunk there's the emergency-escape-hatch handle. +That gets you right in the temple, if you turn your head too fast. + +"And you can't really sleep, I mean not soundly, because of the noise. +That is, when the rockets are going. When they aren't going, then you're +in free-fall, and that's bad, too, because you dream about falling. But +when they're going, I don't know, I think it's worse. It's pretty loud. + +"And even if it weren't for the noise, if you sleep too soundly you +might roll over on your oxygen line. Then you dream about drowning. Ever +do that? You're strangling and choking and you can't get any air? It +isn't dangerous, I guess. Anyway, it always woke me up in time. Though I +heard about a fellow in a flight six years ago-- + +"Well. So you've always got this oxygen mask on, all the time, except if +you take it off for a second to talk to somebody. You don't do that very +often, because what is there to say? Oh, maybe the first couple of +weeks, sure--everybody's friends then. You don't even need the mask, for +that matter. Or not very much. Everybody's still pretty clean. The place +smells--oh, let's see--about like the locker room in a gym. You know? +You can stand it. That's if nobody's got space sickness, of course. We +were lucky that way. + +"But that's about how it's going to get anyway, you know. Outside the +masks, it's soup. It isn't that you smell it so much. You kind of +_taste_ it, in the back of your mouth, and your eyes sting. That's after +the first two or three months. Later on, it gets worse. + +"And with the mask on, of course, the oxygen mixture is coming in under +pressure. That's funny if you're not used to it. Your lungs have to work +a little bit harder to get rid of it, especially when you're asleep, so +after a while the muscles get sore. And then they get sorer. And then-- + +"Well. + +"Before we take off, the psych people give us a long doo-da that keeps +us from killing each other. But they can't stop us from thinking about +it. And afterward, after we're back on Earth--this is what you won't +read about in the articles--they keep us apart. You know how they work +it? We get a pension, naturally. I mean there's got to be a pension, +otherwise there isn't enough money in the world to make anybody go. But +in the contract, it says to get the pension we have to stay in our own +area. + +[Illustration] + +"The whole country's marked off. Six sections. Each has at least one big +city in it. I was lucky, I got a lot of them. They try to keep it so +every man's home town is in his own section, but--well, like with us, +Chowderhead and the captain both happened to come from Santa Monica. I +think it was Chowderhead that got California, Nevada, all that Southwest +area. It was the luck of the draw. God knows what the captain got. + +"Maybe New Jersey," I said, and took another white pill. + + * * * * * + +We went on to another place and she said suddenly, "I figured something +out. The way you keep looking around." + +"What did you figure out?" + +"Well, part of it was what you said about the other fellow getting New +Jersey. This is New Jersey. You don't belong in this section, right?" + +"Right," I said after a minute. + +"So why are you here? I know why. You're here because you're looking for +somebody." + +"That's right." + +She said triumphantly, "You want to find that other fellow from your +crew! You want to fight him!" + +I couldn't help shaking, white pills or no white pills. But I had to +correct her. + +"No. I want to kill him." + +"How do you know he's here? He's got a lot of states to roam around in, +too, doesn't he?" + +"Six. New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland--all the way down to +Washington." + +"Then how do you know--" + +"He'll be here." I didn't have to tell her how I knew. But I knew. + +I wasn't the only one who spent his time at the border of his assigned +area, looking across the river or staring across a state line, knowing +that somebody was on the other side. I knew. You fight a war and you +don't have to guess that the enemy might have his troops a thousand +miles away from the battle line. You know where his troops will be. You +know he wants to fight, too. + +_Hutta. Hutta._ + +I spilled my drink. + +I looked at her. "You--you didn't--" + +She looked frightened. "What's the matter?" + +"_Did you just sneeze?_" + +"Sneeze? Me? Did I--" + +I said something quick and nasty, I don't know what. No! It hadn't been +her. I knew it. + +It was Chowderhead's sneeze. + + * * * * * + +Chowderhead. Marvin T. Roebuck, his name was. Five feet eight inches +tall. Dark-complected, with a cast in one eye. Spoke with a Midwest kind +of accent, even though he came from California--"shrick" for "shriek," +"hawror" for "horror," like that. It drove me crazy after a while. +Maybe that gives you an idea what he talked about mostly. A skunk. A +thoroughgoing, deep-rooted, mother-murdering skunk. + +I kicked over my chair and roared, "Roebuck! Where are you, damn you?" + +The bar was all at once silent. Only the jukebox kept going. + +"I know you're here!" I screamed. "Come out and get it! You louse, I +told you I'd get you for calling me a liar the day Wally sneaked a +smoke!" + +Silence, everybody looking at me. + +Then the door of the men's room opened. + +He came out. + +He looked _lousy_. Eyes all red-rimmed and his hair falling out--the +poor crumb couldn't have been over twenty-nine. He shrieked, "You!" He +called me a million names. He said, "You thieving rat, I'll teach you to +try to cheat me out of my candy ration!" + +He had a knife. + +I didn't care. I didn't have anything and that was stupid, but it didn't +matter. I got a bottle of beer from the next table and smashed it +against the back of a chair. It made a good weapon, you know; I'd take +that against a knife any time. + +I ran toward him, and he came all staggering and lurching toward me, +looking crazy and desperate, mumbling and raving--I could hardly hear +him, because I was talking, too. Nobody tried to stop us. Somebody went +out the door and I figured it was to call the cops, but that was all +right. Once I took care of Chowderhead, I didn't care what the cops did. + +I went for the face. + +He cut me first. I felt the knife slide up along my left arm but, you +know, it didn't even hurt, only kind of stung a little. I didn't care +about that. I got him in the face, and the bottle came away, and it was +all like gray and white jelly, and then blood began to spring out. He +screamed. Oh, that scream! I never heard anything like that scream. It +was what I had been waiting all my life for. + +I kicked him as he staggered back, and he fell. And I was on top of him, +with the bottle, and I was careful to stay away from the heart or the +throat, because that was too quick, but I worked over the face, and I +felt his knife get me a couple times more, and-- + +And-- + + * * * * * + +And I woke up, you know. And there was Dr. Santly over me with a +hypodermic needle that he'd just taken out of my arm, and four male +nurses in fatigues holding me down. And I was drenched with sweat. + +For a minute, I didn't know where I was. It was a horrible queasy +falling sensation, as though the bar and the fight and the world were +all dissolving into smoke around me. + +Then I knew where I was. + +It was almost worse. + +I stopped yelling and just lay there, looking up at them. + +Dr. Santly said, trying to keep his face friendly and noncommittal, +"You're doing much better, Byron, boy. _Much_ better." + +I didn't say anything. + +He said, "You worked through the whole thing in two hours and eight +minutes. Remember the first time? You were sixteen hours killing him. +Captain Van Wyck it was that time, remember? Who was it this time?" + +"Chowderhead." I looked at the male nurses. Doubtfully, they let go of +my arms and legs. + +"Chowderhead," said Dr. Santly. "Oh--Roebuck. That boy," he said +mournfully, his expression saddened, "he's not coming along nearly as +well as you. _Nearly._ He can't run through a cycle in less than five +hours. And, that's peculiar, it's usually you he-- Well, I better not +say that, shall I? No sense setting up a counter-impression when your +pores are all open, so to speak?" He smiled at me, but he was a little +worried in back of the smile. + +I sat up. "Anybody got a cigarette?" + +"Give him a cigarette, Johnson," the doctor ordered the male nurse +standing alongside my right foot. + +Johnson did. I fired up. + +"You're coming along _splendidly_," Dr. Santly said. He was one of these +psych guys that thinks if you say it's so, it makes it so. You know that +kind? "We'll have you down under an hour before the end of the week. +That's _marvelous_ progress. Then we can work on the conscious level! +You're doing extremely well, whether you know it or not. Why, in six +months--say in eight months, because I like to be conservative--" he +twinkled at me--"we'll have you out of here! You'll be the first of your +crew to be discharged, you know that?" + +"That's nice," I said. "The others aren't doing so well?" + +"No. Not at all well, most of them. Particularly Dr. Gilvey. The +run-throughs leave him in terrible shape. I don't mind admitting I'm +worried about him." + +"That's nice," I said, and this time I meant it. + + * * * * * + +He looked at me thoughtfully, but all he did was say to the male nurses, +"He's all right now. Help him off the table." + +It was hard standing up. I had to hold onto the rail around the table +for a minute. I said my set little speech: "Dr. Santly, I want to tell +you again how grateful I am for this. I was reconciled to living the +rest of my life confined to one part of the country, the way the other +crews always did. But this is much better. I appreciate it. I'm sure the +others do, too." + +"Of course, boy. Of course." He took out a fountain pen and made a note +on my chart; I couldn't see what it was, but he looked gratified. "It's +no more than you have coming to you, Byron," he said. "I'm grateful that +I could be the one to make it come to pass." + +He glanced conspiratorially at the male nurses. "You know how important +this is to me. It's the triumph of a whole new approach to psychic +rehabilitation. I mean to say our heroes of space travel are entitled to +freedom when they come back home to Earth, aren't they?" + +"Definitely," I said, scrubbing some of the sweat off my face onto my +sleeve. + +"So we've got to end this system of designated areas. We can't avoid the +tensions that accompany space travel, no. But if we can help you +eliminate harmful tensions with a few run-throughs, why, it's not too +high a price to pay, is it?" + +"Not a bit." + +"I mean to say," he said, warming up, "you can look forward to the time +when you'll be able to mingle with your old friends from the rocket, +free and easy, without any need for restraint. That's a lot to look +forward to, isn't it?" + +"It is," I said. "I look forward to it very much," I said. "And I know +exactly what I'm going to do the first time I meet one--I mean without +any restraints, as you say," I said. And it was true; I did. Only it +wouldn't be a broken beer bottle that I would do it with. + +I had much more elaborate ideas than that. + + --PAUL FLEHR + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ January 1958. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and + typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hated, by Frederik Pohl + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HATED *** + +***** This file should be named 29503.txt or 29503.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/5/0/29503/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell 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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