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diff --git a/29503.txt b/29503.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6522e80 --- /dev/null +++ b/29503.txt @@ -0,0 +1,956 @@ +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: 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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