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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/32346-h.zip b/32346-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef232c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/32346-h.zip diff --git a/32346-h/32346-h.htm b/32346-h/32346-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..efc3cdc --- /dev/null +++ b/32346-h/32346-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1457 @@ +<!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 Keep Your Shape, by Robert Sheckley + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.img1 {border:solid 1px; } + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 25%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.p1 { margin-left: 80%; } + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Keep Your Shape, by Robert Sheckley + +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: Keep Your Shape + +Author: Robert Sheckley + +Illustrator: Vidmer + +Release Date: May 12, 2010 [EBook #32346] +[Last updated: August 22, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEEP YOUR SHAPE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction November 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="613" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1>KEEP YOUR SHAPE</h1> +<p> </p> +<h2>By ROBERT SHECKLEY</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>Illustrated by VIDMER</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Only a race as incredibly elastic as the Grom could have a +single rule of war:</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p1.jpg" alt="P" width="40" height="50" /></div> +<p>id the Pilot slowed the ship almost to a standstill, and peered +anxiously at the green planet below.</p> + +<p>Even without instruments, there was no mistaking it. Third from its +sun, it was the only planet in this system capable of sustaining life. +Peacefully it swam beneath its gauze of clouds.</p> + +<p>It looked very innocent. And yet, twenty previous Grom expeditions had +set out to prepare this planet for invasion—and vanished utterly, +without a word.</p> + +<p>Pid hesitated only a moment, before starting irrevocably down. There +was no point in hovering and worrying. He and his two crewmen were as +ready now as they would ever be. Their compact Displacers were stored +in body pouches, inactive but ready.</p> + +<p>Pid wanted to say something to his crew, but wasn't sure how to put +it.</p> + +<p>The crew waited. Ilg the Radioman had sent the final message to the +Grom planet. Ger the Detector read sixteen dials at once, and +reported, "No sign of alien activity." His body surfaces flowed +carelessly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p>oticing the flow, Pid knew what to say to his crew. Ever since they +had left Grom, shape-discipline had been disgustingly lax. The +Invasion Chief had warned him; but still, he had to do something about +it. It was his duty, since lower castes such as Radiomen and Detectors +were notoriously prone to Shapelessness.</p> + +<p>"A lot of hopes are resting on this expedition," he began slowly. +"We're a long way from home now."</p> + +<p>Ger the Detector nodded. Ilg the Radioman flowed out of his prescribed +shape and molded himself comfortably to a wall.</p> + +<p>"However," Pid said sternly, "distance is no excuse for promiscuous +Shapelessness."</p> + +<p>Ilg flowed hastily back into proper Radioman's shape.</p> + +<p>"Exotic forms will undoubtedly be called for," Pid went on. "And for +that we have a special dispensation. But remember—any shape not +assumed strictly in the line of duty is a foul, lawless device of The +Shapeless One!"</p> + +<p>Ger's body surfaces abruptly stopped flowing.</p> + +<p>"That's all," Pid said, and flowed into his controls. The ship started +down, so smoothly co-ordinated that Pid felt a glow of pride.</p> + +<p>They were good workers, he decided. He just couldn't expect them to be +as shape-conscious as a high-caste Pilot. Even the Invasion Chief had +told him that.</p> + +<p>"Pid," the Invasion Chief had said at their last interview, "we need +this planet desperately."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Pid had said, standing at full attention, never quivering +from Optimum Pilot's Shape.</p> + +<p>"One of you," the Chief said heavily, "must get through and set up a +Displacer near an atomic power source. The army will be standing by at +this end, ready to step through."</p> + +<p>"We'll do it, sir," Pid said.</p> + +<p>"This expedition has to succeed," the Chief said, and his features +blurred momentarily from sheer fatigue. "In strictest confidence, +there's considerable unrest on Grom. The Miner caste is on strike, for +instance. They want a new digging shape. Say the old one is +inefficient."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="400" height="542" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Pid looked properly indignant. The Mining Shape had been set down by +the Ancients fifty thousand years ago, together with the rest of the +basic shapes. And now these upstarts wanted to change it!</p> + +<p>"That's not all," the Chief told him. "We've uncovered a new Cult of +Shapelessness. Picked up almost eight thousand Grom, and I don't know +how many more we missed."</p> + +<p>Pid knew that Shapelessness was a lure of The Shapeless One, the +greatest evil that the Grom mind could conceive of. But why, he +wondered, did so many Grom fall for His lures?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="36" height="40" /></div> +<p>he Chief guessed his question. "Pid," he said, "I suppose it's +difficult for you to understand. Do you enjoy Piloting?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Pid said simply. <i>Enjoy</i> Piloting! It was his entire life! +Without a ship, he was nothing.</p> + +<p>"Not all Grom feel that way," the Chief said. "I don't understand it +either. All my ancestors have been Invasion Chiefs, back to the +beginning of time. So of course <i>I</i> want to be an Invasion Chief. It's +only natural, as well as lawful. But the lower castes don't feel that +way." The Chief shook his body sadly. "I've told you this for a +reason. We Grom need more room. This unrest is caused purely by +crowding. All our psychologists say so. Another planet to expand into +will cure everything. So we're counting on you, Pid."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Pid said, with a glow of pride.</p> + +<p>The Chief rose to end the interview. Then he changed his mind and sat +down again.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to watch your crew," he said. "They're loyal, no doubt, +but low-caste. And you know the lower castes."</p> + +<p>Pid did indeed.</p> + +<p>"Ger, your Detector, is suspected of harboring Alterationist +tendencies. He was once fined for assuming a quasi-Hunter shape. Ilg +has never had any definite charge brought against him. But I hear that +he remains immobile for suspiciously long periods of time. Possibly, +he fancies himself a Thinker."</p> + +<p>"But, sir," Pid protested. "If they are even slightly tainted with +Alterationism or Shapelessness, why send them on this expedition?"</p> + +<p>The Chief hesitated before answering. "There are plenty of Grom I +could trust," he said slowly. "But those two have certain qualities of +resourcefulness and imagination that will be needed on this +expedition." He sighed. "I really don't understand why those qualities +are usually linked with Shapelessness."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Pid said.</p> + +<p>"Just watch them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Pid said again, and saluted, realizing that the interview +was at an end. In his body pouch he felt the dormant Displacer, ready +to transform the enemy's power source into a bridge across space for +the Grom hordes.</p> + +<p>"Good luck," the chief said. "I'm sure you'll need it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="36" height="40" /></div> +<p>he ship dropped silently toward the surface of the enemy planet. Ger +the Detector analyzed the clouds below, and fed data into the +Camouflage Unit. The Unit went to work. Soon the ship looked, to all +outward appearances, like a cirrus formation.</p> + +<p>Pid allowed the ship to drift slowly toward the surface of the mystery +planet. He was in Optimum Pilot's Shape now, the most efficient of the +four shapes alloted to the Pilot caste. Blind, deaf and dumb, an +extension of his controls, all his attention was directed toward +matching the velocities of the high-flying clouds, staying among them, +becoming a part of them.</p> + +<p>Ger remained rigidly in one of the two shapes alloted to Detectors. He +fed data into the Camouflage Unit, and the descending ship slowly +altered into an alto-cumulus.</p> + +<p>There was no sign of activity from the enemy planet.</p> + +<p>Ilg located an atomic power source, and fed the data to Pid. The Pilot +altered course. He had reached the lowest level of clouds, barely a +mile above the surface of the planet. Now his ship looked like a fat, +fleecy cumulus.</p> + +<p>And still there was no sign of alarm. The unknown fate that had +overtaken twenty previous expeditions still had not showed itself.</p> + +<p>Dusk crept across the face of the planet as Pid maneuvered near the +atomic power installation. He avoided the surrounding homes and +hovered over a clump of woods.</p> + +<p>Darkness fell, and the green planet's lone moon was veiled in clouds.</p> + +<p>One cloud floated lower.</p> + +<p>And landed.</p> + +<p>"Quick, everyone out!" Pid shouted, detaching himself from the ship's +controls. He assumed the Pilot's Shape best suited for running, and +raced out the hatch. Ger and Ilg hurried after him. They stopped fifty +yards from the ship, and waited.</p> + +<p>Inside the ship a little-used circuit closed. There was a silent +shudder, and the ship began to melt. Plastic dissolved, metal +crumpled. Soon the ship was a great pile of junk, and still the +process went on. Big fragments broke into smaller fragments, and +split, and split again.</p> + +<p>Pid felt suddenly helpless, watching his ship scuttle itself. He was +a Pilot, of the Pilot caste. His father had been a Pilot, and his +father before him, stretching back to the hazy past when the Grom had +first constructed ships. He had spent his entire childhood around +ships, his entire manhood flying them.</p> + +<p>Now, shipless, he was naked in an alien world.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="19" height="40" /></div> +<p>n a few minutes there was only a mound of dust to show where the ship +had been. The night wind scattered it through the forest. And then +there was nothing at all.</p> + +<p>They waited. Nothing happened. The wind sighed and the trees creaked. +Squirrels chirped, and birds stirred in their nests. An acorn fell to +the ground.</p> + +<p>Pid heaved a sigh of relief and sat down. The twenty-first Grom +expedition had landed safely.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be done until morning, so Pid began to make +plans. They had landed as close to the atomic power installation as +they dared. Now they would have to get closer. Somehow, one of them +had to get very near the reactor room, in order to activate the +Displacer.</p> + +<p>Difficult. But Pid felt certain of success. After all, the Grom were +strong on ingenuity.</p> + +<p>Strong on ingenuity, he thought bitterly, but terribly short of +radioactives. That was another reason why this expedition was so +important. There was little radioactive fuel left, on any of the Grom +worlds. Ages ago, the Grom had spent their store of radioactives in +spreading throughout their neighboring worlds, occupying the ones that +they could live on.</p> + +<p>Now, colonization barely kept up with the mounting birthrate. New +worlds were constantly needed.</p> + +<p>This particular world, discovered in a scouting expedition, was +needed. It suited the Grom perfectly. But it was too far away. They +didn't have enough fuel to mount a conquering space fleet.</p> + +<p>Luckily, there was another way. A better way.</p> + +<p>Over the centuries, the Grom scientists had developed the Displacer. A +triumph of Identity Engineering, the Displacer allowed mass to be +moved instantaneously between any two linked points.</p> + +<p>One end was set up at Grom's sole atomic energy plant. The other end +had to be placed in proximity to another atomic power source, and +activated. Diverted power then flowed through both ends, was modified, +and modified again.</p> + +<p>Then, through the miracle of Identity Engineering, the Grom could +<i>step</i> through from planet to planet; or pour through in a great, +overwhelming wave.</p> + +<p>It was quite simple.</p> + +<p>But twenty expeditions had failed to set up the Earth-end Displacer.</p> + +<p>What had happened to them was not known.</p> + +<p>For no Grom ship had ever returned to tell.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="35" height="40" /></div> +<p>efore dawn they crept through the woods, taking on the coloration of +the plants around them. Their Displacers pulsed feebly, sensing the +nearness of atomic energy.</p> + +<p>A tiny, four-legged creature darted in front of them. Instantly, Ger +grew four legs and a long, streamlined body and gave chase.</p> + +<p>"Ger! Come back here!" Pid howled at the Detector, throwing caution to +the winds.</p> + +<p>Ger overtook the animal and knocked it down. He tried to bite it, but +he had neglected to grow teeth. The animal jumped free, and vanished +into the underbrush. Ger thrust out a set of teeth and bunched his +muscles for another leap.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ger!</i>"</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, the Detector turned away. He loped silently back to Pid.</p> + +<p>"I was hungry," he said.</p> + +<p>"You were not," Pid said sternly.</p> + +<p>"Was," Ger mumbled, writhing with embarrassment.</p> + +<p>Pid remembered what the Chief had told him. Ger certainly did have +Hunter tendencies. He would have to watch him more closely.</p> + +<p>"We'll have no more of that," Pid said. "Remember—the lure of Exotic +Shapes is not sanctioned. Be content with the shape you were born to."</p> + +<p>Ger nodded, and melted back into the underbrush. They moved on.</p> + +<p>At the extreme edge of the woods they could observe the atomic energy +installation. Pid disguised himself as a clump of shrubbery, and Ger +formed himself into an old log. Ilg, after a moment's thought, became +a young oak.</p> + +<p>The installation was in the form of a long, low building, surrounded +by a metal fence. There was a gate, and guards in front of it.</p> + +<p>The first job, Pid thought, was to get past that gate. He began to +consider ways and means.</p> + +<p>From the fragmentary reports of the survey parties, Pid knew that, in +some ways, this race of Men were like the Grom. They had pets, as the +Grom did, and homes and children, and a culture. The inhabitants were +skilled mechanically, as were the Grom.</p> + +<p>But there were terrific differences, also. The Men were of fixed and +immutable form, like stones or trees. And to compensate, their planet +boasted a fantastic array of species, types and kinds. This was +completely unlike Grom, which had only eight distinct forms of animal +life.</p> + +<p>And evidently, the Men were skilled at detecting invaders, Pid +thought. He wished he knew how the other expeditions had failed. It +would make his job much easier.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p> Man lurched past them on two incredibly stiff legs. Rigidity was +evident in his every move. Without looking, he hurried past.</p> + +<p>"I know," Ger said, after the creature had moved away. "I'll disguise +myself as a Man, walk through the gate to the reactor room, and +activate my Displacer."</p> + +<p>"You can't speak their language," Pid pointed out.</p> + +<p>"I won't speak at all. I'll ignore them. Look." Quickly Ger shaped +himself into a Man.</p> + +<p>"That's not bad," Pid said.</p> + +<p>Ger tried a few practice steps, copying the bumpy walk of the Man.</p> + +<p>"But I'm afraid it won't work," Pid said.</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly logical," Ger pointed out.</p> + +<p>"I know. Therefore the other expeditions must have tried it. And none +of them came back."</p> + +<p>There was no arguing that. Ger flowed back into the shape of a log. +"What, then?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Let me think," Pid said.</p> + +<p>Another creature lurched past, on four legs instead of two. Pid +recognized it as a Dog, a pet of Man. He watched it carefully.</p> + +<p>The Dog ambled to the gate, head down, in no particular hurry. It +walked through, unchallenged, and lay down in the grass.</p> + +<p>"H'm," Pid said.</p> + +<p>They watched. One of the Men walked past, and touched the Dog on the +head. The Dog stuck out its tongue and rolled over on its side.</p> + +<p>"I can do that," Ger said excitedly. He started to flow into the shape +of a Dog.</p> + +<p>"No, wait," Pid said. "We'll spend the rest of the day thinking it +over. This is too important to rush into."</p> + +<p>Ger subsided sulkily.</p> + +<p>"Come on, let's move back," Pid said. He and Ger started into the +woods. Then he remembered Ilg.</p> + +<p>"Ilg?" he called softly.</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Ilg!"</p> + +<p>"What? Oh, yes," an oak tree said, and melted into a bush. "Sorry. +What were you saying?"</p> + +<p>"We're moving back," Pid said. "Were you, by any chance, Thinking?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Ilg assured him. "Just resting."</p> + +<p>Pid let it go at that. There was too much else to worry about.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="36" height="40" /></div> +<p>hey discussed it for the rest of the day, hidden in the deepest part +of the woods. The only alternatives seemed to be Man or Dog. A Tree +couldn't walk past the gates, since that was not in the nature of +trees. Nor could anything else, and escape notice.</p> + +<p>Going as a Man seemed too risky. They decided that Ger would sally out +in the morning as a Dog.</p> + +<p>"Now get some sleep," Pid said.</p> + +<p>Obediently his two crewmen flattened out, going immediately Shapeless. +But Pid had a more difficult time.</p> + +<p>Everything looked too easy. Why wasn't the atomic installation better +guarded? Certainly the Men must have learned something from the +expeditions they had captured in the past. Or had they killed them +without asking any questions?</p> + +<p>You couldn't tell what an alien would do.</p> + +<p>Was that open gate a trap?</p> + +<p>Wearily he flowed into a comfortable position on the lumpy ground. +Then he pulled himself together hastily.</p> + +<p>He had gone Shapeless!</p> + +<p>Comfort was not in the line of duty, he reminded himself, and firmly +took a Pilot's Shape.</p> + +<p>But a Pilot's Shape wasn't constructed for sleeping on damp, bumpy +ground. Pid spent a restless night, thinking of ships, and wishing he +were flying one.</p> + +<p>He awoke in the morning tired and ill-tempered. He nudged Ger.</p> + +<p>"Let's get this over with," he said.</p> + +<p>Ger flowed gaily to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Ilg," Pid said angrily, looking around. "Wake up."</p> + +<p>There was no reply.</p> + +<p>"Ilg!" he called.</p> + +<p>Still there was no reply.</p> + +<p>"Help me look for him," Pid said to Ger. "He must be around here +somewhere."</p> + +<p>Together they tested every bush, tree, log and shrub in the vicinity. +But none of them was Ilg.</p> + +<p>Pid began to feel a cold panic run through him. What could have +happened to the Radioman?</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he decided to go through the gate on his own," Ger suggested.<br /> +[original: Ilg suggested (n. of transcriber)]</p> + +<p>Pid considered the possibility. It seemed unlikely. Ilg had never +shown much initiative. He had always been content to follow orders.</p> + +<p>They waited. But midday came, and there was still no sign of Ilg.</p> + +<p>"We can't wait any longer," Pid said, and they started through the +woods. Pid wondered if Ilg <i>had</i> tried to get through the gates on his +own. Those quiet types often concealed a foolhardy streak.</p> + +<p>But there was nothing to show that Ilg had been successful. He would +have to assume that the Radioman was dead, or captured by the Men.</p> + +<p>That left two of them to activate a Displacer.</p> + +<p>And he still didn't know what had happened to the other expeditions.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p>t the edge of the woods, Ger turned himself into a facsimile of a +Dog. Pid inspected him carefully.</p> + +<p>"A little less tail," he said.</p> + +<p>Ger shortened his tail.</p> + +<p>"More ears."</p> + +<p>Ger lengthened his ears,</p> + +<p>"Now even them up."</p> + +<p>They became even.</p> + +<p>Pid inspected the finished product. As far as he could tell, Ger was +perfect, from the tip of his tail to his wet, black nose.</p> + +<p>"Good luck," Pid said.</p> + +<p>"Thanks." Cautiously Ger moved out of the woods, walking in the +lurching style of Dogs and Men. At the gate the guard called to him. +Pid held his breath.</p> + +<p>Ger walked past the Man, ignoring him. The Man started to walk over. +Ger broke into a run.</p> + +<p>Pid shaped a pair of strong legs for himself, ready to dash if Ger was +caught.</p> + +<p>But the guard turned back to his gate. Ger stopped running +immediately, and strolled quietly toward the main door of the +building.</p> + +<p>Pid dissolved his legs with a sigh of relief ... and then tensed +again.</p> + +<p>The main door was closed!</p> + +<p>Pid hoped the Radioman wouldn't try to open it. That was <i>not</i> in the +nature of Dogs.</p> + +<p>As he watched, another Dog came running toward Ger. Ger backed away +from him. The Dog approached and sniffed. Ger sniffed back.</p> + +<p>Then both of them ran around the building.</p> + +<p>That was clever, Pid thought. There was bound to be a door in the +rear.</p> + +<p>He glanced up at the afternoon sun. As soon as the Displacer was +activated, the Grom armies would begin to pour through. By the time +the Men recovered from the shock, a million or more Grom troops would +be here, weapons and all. With more following.</p> + +<p>The day passed slowly, and nothing happened.</p> + +<p>Nervously Pid watched the front of the plant. It shouldn't be taking +so long, if Ger were successful.</p> + +<p>Late into the night he waited. Men walked in and out of the +installation, and Dogs barked around the gates. But Ger did not +appear.</p> + +<p>Ger had failed. Ilg was gone. Only he was left.</p> + +<p>And <i>still</i> he didn't know what had happened.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="35" height="40" /></div> +<p>y morning, Pid was in complete despair. He knew that the twenty-first +Grom expedition to this planet was near the point of complete failure. +Now it was all up to him.</p> + +<p>He saw that workers were arriving in great number, rushing through the +gates. He decided to take advantage of the apparent confusion, and +started to shape himself into a Man.</p> + +<p>A Dog walked past the woods where he was hiding.</p> + +<p>"Hello," the Dog said.</p> + +<p>It was Ger!</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Pid asked, with a sigh of relief. "Why were you so +long? Couldn't you get in?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Ger said, wagging his tail. "I didn't try."</p> + +<p>Pid was speechless.</p> + +<p>"I went hunting," Ger said complacently. "This form is ideal for +Hunting, you know. I went out the rear gate with another Dog."</p> + +<p>"But the expedition—your duty—"</p> + +<p>"I changed my mind," Ger told him. "You know, Pilot, I never wanted to +be a Detector."</p> + +<p>"But you were <i>born</i> a Detector!"</p> + +<p>"That's true," Ger said. "But it doesn't help. I always wanted to be a +Hunter."</p> + +<p>Pid shook his entire body in annoyance. "You can't," he said, very +slowly, as one would explain to a Gromling. "The Hunter shape is +forbidden to you."</p> + +<p>"Not here it isn't," Ger said, still wagging his tail.</p> + +<p>"Let's have no more of this," Pid said angrily. "Get into that +installation and set up your Displacer. I'll try to overlook this +heresy."</p> + +<p>"No," Ger said. "I don't want the Grom here. They'd ruin it for the +rest of us."</p> + +<p>"He's right," a nearby oak tree said.</p> + +<p>"Ilg!" Pid gasped. "Where are you?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="35" height="40" /></div> +<p>ranches stirred. "I'm right here," Ilg said. "I've been Thinking."</p> + +<p>"But—your caste—"</p> + +<p>"Pilot," Ger said sadly, "why don't you wake up? Most of the people on +Grom are miserable. Only custom makes us take the caste-shape of our +ancestors."</p> + +<p>"Pilot," Ilg said, "all Grom are born Shapeless!"</p> + +<p>"And being born Shapeless, all Grom should have Freedom of Shape," +Ger said.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Ilg said. "But he'll never understand. Now excuse me. I +want to Think." And the oak tree was silent.</p> + +<p>Pid laughed humorlessly. "The Men will kill you off," he said. "Just +as they killed off all the other expeditions."</p> + +<p>"No one from Grom has been killed," Ger told him. "The other +expeditions are right here."</p> + +<p>"Alive?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. The Men don't even know we exist. That Dog I was Hunting +with is a Grom from the twelfth expedition. There are hundreds of us +here, Pilot. We like it."</p> + +<p>Pid tried to absorb it all. He had always known that the lower castes +were lax in caste-consciousness. But this was preposterous!</p> + +<p>This planet's secret menace was—freedom!</p> + +<p>"Join us, Pilot," Ger said. "We've got a paradise here. Do you know +how many species there are on this planet? An uncountable number! +There's a shape to suit every need!"</p> + +<p>Pid ignored them. Traitors!</p> + +<p>He'd do the job all by himself.</p> + +<p>So Men were unaware of the presence of the Grom. Getting near the +reactor might not be so difficult after all. The others had failed in +their duty because they were of the lower castes, weak and +irresponsible. Even the Pilots among them must have been secretly +sympathetic to the Cult of Shapelessness the Chief had mentioned, or +the alien planet could never have swayed them.</p> + +<p>What shape to assume for his attempt?</p> + +<p>Pid considered.</p> + +<p>A Dog might be best. Evidently Dogs could wander pretty much where +they wished. If something went wrong, Pid could change his shape to +meet the occasion.</p> + +<p>"The Supreme Council will take care of all of you," he snarled, and +shaped himself into a small brown Dog. "I'm going to set up the +Displacer myself."</p> + +<p>He studied himself for a moment, bared his teeth at Ger, and loped +toward the gate.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="41" height="40" /></div> +<p>e loped for about ten feet and stopped in utter horror.</p> + +<p>The smells rushed at him from all directions. Smells in a profusion +and variety he had never dreamed existed. Smells that were harsh, +sweet, sharp, heavy, mysterious, overpowering. Smells that terrified. +Alien and repulsive and inescapable, the odors of Earth struck him +like a blow.</p> + +<p>He curled his lips and held his breath. He ran on for a few steps, and +had to breathe again. He almost choked.</p> + +<p>He tried to remold his Dog-nostrils to be less sensitive. It didn't +work. It wouldn't, so long as he kept the Dog-shape. An attempt to +modify his metabolism didn't work either.</p> + +<p>All this in the space of two or three seconds. He was rooted in his +tracks, fighting the smells, wondering what to do.</p> + +<p>Then the noises hit him.</p> + +<p>They were a constant and staggering roar, through which every tiniest +whisper of sound stood out clearly and distinct. Sounds upon +sounds—more noise than he had ever heard before at one time in his +life. The woods behind him had suddenly become a mad-house.</p> + +<p>Utterly confused, he lost control and became Shapeless.</p> + +<p>He half-ran, half-flowed into a nearby bush. There he re-Shaped, +obliterating the offending Dog ears and nostrils with vicious strokes +of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>The Dog-shape was out. Absolutely. Such appalling sharpness of senses +might be fine for a Hunter such as Ger—he probably gloried in them. +But another moment of such impressions would have driven Pid the Pilot +mad.</p> + +<p>What now? He lay in the bush and thought about it, while gradually his +mind threw off the last effects of the dizzying sensory assault.</p> + +<p>He looked at the gate. The Men standing there evidently hadn't noticed +his fiasco. They were looking in another direction.</p> + +<p>... a Man?</p> + +<p>Well, it was worth a try.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="26" height="40" /></div> +<p>tudying the Men at the gate, Pid carefully shaped himself into a +facsimile—a synthesis, actually, embodying one characteristic of +that, another of this.</p> + +<p>He emerged from the side of the bush opposite the gate, on his hands +and knees. He sniffed the air, noting that the smells the Man-nostrils +picked up weren't unpleasant at all. In fact, some of them were +decidedly otherwise. It had just been the acuity of the Dog-nostrils, +the number of smells they had detected and the near-brilliance with +which they had done so, that had shocked him.</p> + +<p>Also, the sounds weren't half so devastating. Only relatively close +sounds stood out. All else was an undetailed whispering.</p> + +<p>Evidently, Pid thought, it had been a long time since Men had been +Hunters.</p> + +<p>He tested his legs, standing up and taking a few clumsy steps. <i>Thud</i> +of foot on ground. Drag the other leg forward in a heavy arc. <i>Thud.</i> +Rocking from side to side, he marched back and forth behind the bush. +His arms flapped as he sought balance. His head wobbled on its neck, +until he remembered to hold it up. Head up, eyes down, he missed +seeing a small rock. His heel turned on it. He sat down, hard.</p> + +<p>The ankle hurt. Pid curled his Man-lips and crawled back into the +bush.</p> + +<p>The Man-shape was too unspeakably clumsy. It was offensive to plod one +step at a time. Body held rigidly upright. Arms wobbling. There had +been a deluge of sense-impressions in the Dog-shape; there was dull, +stiff, half-alive inadequacy to the Man-shape.</p> + +<p>Besides, it was dangerous, now that Pid thought it over, as well as +distasteful. He couldn't control it properly. It wouldn't look right. +Someone might question him. There was too much about Men he +didn't—couldn't—know. The planting of the Displacer was too +important a thing for him to fumble again. Only luck had kept him from +being seen during the sensory onslaught.</p> + +<p>The Displacer in his body pouch pulsed and tugged, urging him to be on +his way toward the distant reactor room.</p> + +<p>Grimly, Pid let out the last breath he had taken with his Man-lungs, +and dissolved the lungs.</p> + +<p>What shape to take?</p> + +<p>Again he studied the gate, the Men standing beside it, the building +beyond in which was the all-important reactor.</p> + +<p>A small shape was needed. A fast one. An unobtrusive one.</p> + +<p>He lay and thought.</p> + +<p>The bush rustled above him. A small brown shape had fluttered down to +light on a twig. It hopped to another twig, twittering. Then it +fluttered off in a flash, and was gone.</p> + +<p>That, Pid thought, was it.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p> Sparrow that was not a Sparrow rose from the bush a few moments +later. An observer would have seen it circle the bush, diving, +hedgehopping, even looping, as if practicing all maneuvers possible to +Sparrows.</p> + +<p>Pid tensed his shoulder muscles, inclined his wings. He slipped off to +the right, approached the bush at what seemed breakneck speed, though +he knew this was only because of his small size. At the last second he +lifted his tail. Not quite quickly enough. He swooped up and over the +top of the bush, but his legs brushed the top leaves, his beak went +down, and he stumbled in air for a few feet back-forward.</p> + +<p>He blinked beady eyes as if at a challenge. Back toward the bush at a +fine clip, again up and over. This time cleanly.</p> + +<p>He chose a tree. Zoomed into its network of branches, wove a web of +flight, working his way around and around the trunk, over and under +branches that flashed before him, through crotches with no more than a +feather's-breath to spare.</p> + +<p>At last he rested on a low branch, and found himself chirping in +delight.</p> + +<p>The tree extruded a feeler from the branch he sat on, and touched his +wings and tail.</p> + +<p>"Interesting," said the tree. "I'll have to try that shape some time."</p> + +<p>Ilg.</p> + +<p>"Traitor," hissed Pid, growing a mouth in his chest to hiss it, and +then he did something that caused Ilg to exclaim in outrage.</p> + +<p>Pid flew out of the woods. Over the underbrush and across the open +space toward the gate.</p> + +<p>This body would do the trick!</p> + +<p>This body would do anything!</p> + +<p>He rose, in a matter of a few Sparrow heartbeats, to an altitude of a +hundred feet. From here the gate, the Men, the building were small, +sharp shapes against a green-brown mat. Pid found that he could see +not only with unaccustomed clarity, but with a range of vision that +astonished him. To right and to left he could see far into the hazy +blue of the sky, and the higher he rose the farther he could see.</p> + +<p>He rose higher.</p> + +<p>The Displacer pulsed, reminding him of the job he had to do.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="41" height="40" /></div> +<p>e stiffened his wings and glided, regretfully putting aside his +desires to experiment with this wonderful shape, at least for the +present. After he planted the Displacer, he would go off by himself +for a while and do it just a little more—somewhere where Ilg and Ger +would not see him—before the Grom Army arrived and the invasion +began.</p> + +<p>He felt a tiny twinge of guilt, as he circled. It was Evil to want to +keep this alien flying shape any longer than was absolutely necessary +to the performance of his duty. It was a device of the Shapeless One—</p> + +<p>But what had Ilg said? <i>All Grom are born Shapeless.</i> It was true. +Grom children were amorphous, until old enough to be instructed in the +caste-shape of their ancestors.</p> + +<p>Maybe it wasn't <i>too</i> great a sin to alter your Shape, then—just once +in a long while. After all, one must be fully aware of the nature of +Evil in order to meaningfully reject it.</p> + +<p>He had fallen lower in circling. The Displacer pulse had strengthened. +For some reason it irritated him. He drove higher on strong wings, +circled again. Air rushed past him—a smooth, whispering flow, pierced +by his beak, streaming invisibly past his sharp eyes, moving along his +body in tiny turbulences that moved his feathers against his skin.</p> + +<p>It occurred to him—or rather struck him with considerable force—that +he was satisfying a longing of his Pilot Caste that went far deeper +than Piloting.</p> + +<p>He drove powerfully with his wings, felt tonus across his back, shot +forward and up. He thought of the controls of his ship. He imagined +flowing into them, becoming part of them, as he had so often done—and +for the first time in his life the thought failed to excite him.</p> + +<p>No machine could compare with this!</p> + +<p>What he would give to have wings of his own!</p> + +<p><i>... Get from my sight, Shapeless One!</i></p> + +<p>The Displacer must be planted, activated. All Grom depended on him.</p> + +<p>He eyed the building, far below. He would pass over it. The Displacer +would tell him which window to enter—which window was so near the +reactor that he could do his job before the Men even knew he was +about.</p> + +<p>He started to drop lower, and the Hawk struck.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="19" height="40" /></div> +<p>t had been above him. His first inkling of danger was the sharp pain +of talons in his back, and the stunning blow of a beak across his +head.</p> + +<p>Dazed, he let his back go Shapeless. His body-substance flowed from +the grasp of the talons. He dropped a dozen feet and resumed +Sparrow-shape, hearing an astonished squawk from the attacker.</p> + +<p>He banked, and looked up. The Hawk was eyeing him.</p> + +<p>Talons spread again. The sharp beak gaped. The Hawk swooped.</p> + +<p>Pid had to fight as a Bird, naturally. He was four hundred feet above +the ground.</p> + +<p>So he became an impossibly deadly Bird.</p> + +<p>He grew to twice the size of the Hawk. He grew a foot-long beak with +a double razor's edge. He grew talons like six inch scimitars. His +eyes gleamed a red challenge.</p> + +<p>The Hawk broke flight, squalling in alarm. Frantically, tail down and +widespread, it thundered its wings and came to a dead stop six feet +from Pid.</p> + +<p>Looking thoughtfully at Pid, it allowed itself to plummet. It fell a +hundred feet, spread its wings, stretched its neck and flew off so +hastily that its wings became blurs.</p> + +<p>Pid saw no reason to pursue it.</p> + +<p>Then, after a moment, he did.</p> + +<p>He glided, keeping the Hawk in sight, thoughts racing, feeling the +newness, the power, the wonder of Freedom of Shape.</p> + +<p>Freedom....</p> + +<p>He did not want to give it up.</p> + +<p>The bird-shape was wondrous. He would experiment with it. Later, he +might tire of it for a time and assume another—a crawling or running +shape, or even a swimming one. The possibilities for excitement, for +adventure, for fulfilment and simple sensual pleasure were endless!</p> + +<p>Freedom of Shape was—obviously, now that you thought on it—the Grom +birthright. And the caste-system was artificial—obviously. A device +for political and priestly benefit—obviously.</p> + +<p><i>Go away, Shapeless One ... this does not concern you.</i></p> + +<p>He rose to a thousand feet, two thousand, three. The Displacer's pulse +grew feebler and finally vanished.</p> + +<p>At four thousand feet he released it and watched it spin downward, +vanish into a cloud.</p> + +<p>Then he set out after the Hawk, which was now only a dot on the +horizon. He would find out how the Hawk had broken flight as it +had—skidded on air—he wanted to do that too! There were so many +things he wanted to learn about flying. In a week, he thought, he +should be able to duplicate all the skill that millennia had evolved +into Birds. Then his new life would really begin.</p> + +<p>He became a torpedo-shape with huge wings, and sped after the Hawk.</p> + +<p class="p1"><b>ROBERT SHECKLEY</b></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Keep Your Shape, by Robert Sheckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEEP YOUR SHAPE *** + +***** This file should be named 32346-h.htm or 32346-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/3/4/32346/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Keep Your Shape + +Author: Robert Sheckley + +Illustrator: Vidmer + +Release Date: May 12, 2010 [EBook #32346] +[Last updated: August 22, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEEP YOUR SHAPE *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction November 1953. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + KEEP YOUR SHAPE + + + By ROBERT SHECKLEY + + + Illustrated by VIDMER + + + _Only a race as incredibly elastic as the Grom could have a + single rule of war:_ + + * * * * * + + + + +Pid the Pilot slowed the ship almost to a standstill, and peered +anxiously at the green planet below. + +Even without instruments, there was no mistaking it. Third from its +sun, it was the only planet in this system capable of sustaining life. +Peacefully it swam beneath its gauze of clouds. + +It looked very innocent. And yet, twenty previous Grom expeditions had +set out to prepare this planet for invasion--and vanished utterly, +without a word. + +Pid hesitated only a moment, before starting irrevocably down. There +was no point in hovering and worrying. He and his two crewmen were as +ready now as they would ever be. Their compact Displacers were stored +in body pouches, inactive but ready. + +Pid wanted to say something to his crew, but wasn't sure how to put +it. + +The crew waited. Ilg the Radioman had sent the final message to the +Grom planet. Ger the Detector read sixteen dials at once, and +reported, "No sign of alien activity." His body surfaces flowed +carelessly. + + * * * * * + +Noticing the flow, Pid knew what to say to his crew. Ever since they +had left Grom, shape-discipline had been disgustingly lax. The +Invasion Chief had warned him; but still, he had to do something about +it. It was his duty, since lower castes such as Radiomen and Detectors +were notoriously prone to Shapelessness. + +"A lot of hopes are resting on this expedition," he began slowly. +"We're a long way from home now." + +Ger the Detector nodded. Ilg the Radioman flowed out of his prescribed +shape and molded himself comfortably to a wall. + +"However," Pid said sternly, "distance is no excuse for promiscuous +Shapelessness." + +Ilg flowed hastily back into proper Radioman's shape. + +"Exotic forms will undoubtedly be called for," Pid went on. "And for +that we have a special dispensation. But remember--any shape not +assumed strictly in the line of duty is a foul, lawless device of The +Shapeless One!" + +Ger's body surfaces abruptly stopped flowing. + +"That's all," Pid said, and flowed into his controls. The ship started +down, so smoothly co-ordinated that Pid felt a glow of pride. + +They were good workers, he decided. He just couldn't expect them to be +as shape-conscious as a high-caste Pilot. Even the Invasion Chief had +told him that. + +"Pid," the Invasion Chief had said at their last interview, "we need +this planet desperately." + +"Yes, sir," Pid had said, standing at full attention, never quivering +from Optimum Pilot's Shape. + +"One of you," the Chief said heavily, "must get through and set up a +Displacer near an atomic power source. The army will be standing by at +this end, ready to step through." + +"We'll do it, sir," Pid said. + +"This expedition has to succeed," the Chief said, and his features +blurred momentarily from sheer fatigue. "In strictest confidence, +there's considerable unrest on Grom. The Miner caste is on strike, for +instance. They want a new digging shape. Say the old one is +inefficient." + +[Illustration] + +Pid looked properly indignant. The Mining Shape had been set down by +the Ancients fifty thousand years ago, together with the rest of the +basic shapes. And now these upstarts wanted to change it! + +"That's not all," the Chief told him. "We've uncovered a new Cult of +Shapelessness. Picked up almost eight thousand Grom, and I don't know +how many more we missed." + +Pid knew that Shapelessness was a lure of The Shapeless One, the +greatest evil that the Grom mind could conceive of. But why, he +wondered, did so many Grom fall for His lures? + + * * * * * + +The Chief guessed his question. "Pid," he said, "I suppose it's +difficult for you to understand. Do you enjoy Piloting?" + +"Yes, sir," Pid said simply. _Enjoy_ Piloting! It was his entire life! +Without a ship, he was nothing. + +"Not all Grom feel that way," the Chief said. "I don't understand it +either. All my ancestors have been Invasion Chiefs, back to the +beginning of time. So of course _I_ want to be an Invasion Chief. It's +only natural, as well as lawful. But the lower castes don't feel that +way." The Chief shook his body sadly. "I've told you this for a +reason. We Grom need more room. This unrest is caused purely by +crowding. All our psychologists say so. Another planet to expand into +will cure everything. So we're counting on you, Pid." + +"Yes, sir," Pid said, with a glow of pride. + +The Chief rose to end the interview. Then he changed his mind and sat +down again. + +"You'll have to watch your crew," he said. "They're loyal, no doubt, +but low-caste. And you know the lower castes." + +Pid did indeed. + +"Ger, your Detector, is suspected of harboring Alterationist +tendencies. He was once fined for assuming a quasi-Hunter shape. Ilg +has never had any definite charge brought against him. But I hear that +he remains immobile for suspiciously long periods of time. Possibly, +he fancies himself a Thinker." + +"But, sir," Pid protested. "If they are even slightly tainted with +Alterationism or Shapelessness, why send them on this expedition?" + +The Chief hesitated before answering. "There are plenty of Grom I +could trust," he said slowly. "But those two have certain qualities of +resourcefulness and imagination that will be needed on this +expedition." He sighed. "I really don't understand why those qualities +are usually linked with Shapelessness." + +"Yes, sir," Pid said. + +"Just watch them." + +"Yes, sir," Pid said again, and saluted, realizing that the interview +was at an end. In his body pouch he felt the dormant Displacer, ready +to transform the enemy's power source into a bridge across space for +the Grom hordes. + +"Good luck," the chief said. "I'm sure you'll need it." + + * * * * * + +The ship dropped silently toward the surface of the enemy planet. Ger +the Detector analyzed the clouds below, and fed data into the +Camouflage Unit. The Unit went to work. Soon the ship looked, to all +outward appearances, like a cirrus formation. + +Pid allowed the ship to drift slowly toward the surface of the mystery +planet. He was in Optimum Pilot's Shape now, the most efficient of the +four shapes alloted to the Pilot caste. Blind, deaf and dumb, an +extension of his controls, all his attention was directed toward +matching the velocities of the high-flying clouds, staying among them, +becoming a part of them. + +Ger remained rigidly in one of the two shapes alloted to Detectors. He +fed data into the Camouflage Unit, and the descending ship slowly +altered into an alto-cumulus. + +There was no sign of activity from the enemy planet. + +Ilg located an atomic power source, and fed the data to Pid. The Pilot +altered course. He had reached the lowest level of clouds, barely a +mile above the surface of the planet. Now his ship looked like a fat, +fleecy cumulus. + +And still there was no sign of alarm. The unknown fate that had +overtaken twenty previous expeditions still had not showed itself. + +Dusk crept across the face of the planet as Pid maneuvered near the +atomic power installation. He avoided the surrounding homes and +hovered over a clump of woods. + +Darkness fell, and the green planet's lone moon was veiled in clouds. + +One cloud floated lower. + +And landed. + +"Quick, everyone out!" Pid shouted, detaching himself from the ship's +controls. He assumed the Pilot's Shape best suited for running, and +raced out the hatch. Ger and Ilg hurried after him. They stopped fifty +yards from the ship, and waited. + +Inside the ship a little-used circuit closed. There was a silent +shudder, and the ship began to melt. Plastic dissolved, metal +crumpled. Soon the ship was a great pile of junk, and still the +process went on. Big fragments broke into smaller fragments, and +split, and split again. + +Pid felt suddenly helpless, watching his ship scuttle itself. He was +a Pilot, of the Pilot caste. His father had been a Pilot, and his +father before him, stretching back to the hazy past when the Grom had +first constructed ships. He had spent his entire childhood around +ships, his entire manhood flying them. + +Now, shipless, he was naked in an alien world. + + * * * * * + +In a few minutes there was only a mound of dust to show where the ship +had been. The night wind scattered it through the forest. And then +there was nothing at all. + +They waited. Nothing happened. The wind sighed and the trees creaked. +Squirrels chirped, and birds stirred in their nests. An acorn fell to +the ground. + +Pid heaved a sigh of relief and sat down. The twenty-first Grom +expedition had landed safely. + +There was nothing to be done until morning, so Pid began to make +plans. They had landed as close to the atomic power installation as +they dared. Now they would have to get closer. Somehow, one of them +had to get very near the reactor room, in order to activate the +Displacer. + +Difficult. But Pid felt certain of success. After all, the Grom were +strong on ingenuity. + +Strong on ingenuity, he thought bitterly, but terribly short of +radioactives. That was another reason why this expedition was so +important. There was little radioactive fuel left, on any of the Grom +worlds. Ages ago, the Grom had spent their store of radioactives in +spreading throughout their neighboring worlds, occupying the ones that +they could live on. + +Now, colonization barely kept up with the mounting birthrate. New +worlds were constantly needed. + +This particular world, discovered in a scouting expedition, was +needed. It suited the Grom perfectly. But it was too far away. They +didn't have enough fuel to mount a conquering space fleet. + +Luckily, there was another way. A better way. + +Over the centuries, the Grom scientists had developed the Displacer. A +triumph of Identity Engineering, the Displacer allowed mass to be +moved instantaneously between any two linked points. + +One end was set up at Grom's sole atomic energy plant. The other end +had to be placed in proximity to another atomic power source, and +activated. Diverted power then flowed through both ends, was modified, +and modified again. + +Then, through the miracle of Identity Engineering, the Grom could +_step_ through from planet to planet; or pour through in a great, +overwhelming wave. + +It was quite simple. + +But twenty expeditions had failed to set up the Earth-end Displacer. + +What had happened to them was not known. + +For no Grom ship had ever returned to tell. + + * * * * * + +Before dawn they crept through the woods, taking on the coloration of +the plants around them. Their Displacers pulsed feebly, sensing the +nearness of atomic energy. + +A tiny, four-legged creature darted in front of them. Instantly, Ger +grew four legs and a long, streamlined body and gave chase. + +"Ger! Come back here!" Pid howled at the Detector, throwing caution to +the winds. + +Ger overtook the animal and knocked it down. He tried to bite it, but +he had neglected to grow teeth. The animal jumped free, and vanished +into the underbrush. Ger thrust out a set of teeth and bunched his +muscles for another leap. + +"_Ger!_" + +Reluctantly, the Detector turned away. He loped silently back to Pid. + +"I was hungry," he said. + +"You were not," Pid said sternly. + +"Was," Ger mumbled, writhing with embarrassment. + +Pid remembered what the Chief had told him. Ger certainly did have +Hunter tendencies. He would have to watch him more closely. + +"We'll have no more of that," Pid said. "Remember--the lure of Exotic +Shapes is not sanctioned. Be content with the shape you were born to." + +Ger nodded, and melted back into the underbrush. They moved on. + +At the extreme edge of the woods they could observe the atomic energy +installation. Pid disguised himself as a clump of shrubbery, and Ger +formed himself into an old log. Ilg, after a moment's thought, became +a young oak. + +The installation was in the form of a long, low building, surrounded +by a metal fence. There was a gate, and guards in front of it. + +The first job, Pid thought, was to get past that gate. He began to +consider ways and means. + +From the fragmentary reports of the survey parties, Pid knew that, in +some ways, this race of Men were like the Grom. They had pets, as the +Grom did, and homes and children, and a culture. The inhabitants were +skilled mechanically, as were the Grom. + +But there were terrific differences, also. The Men were of fixed and +immutable form, like stones or trees. And to compensate, their planet +boasted a fantastic array of species, types and kinds. This was +completely unlike Grom, which had only eight distinct forms of animal +life. + +And evidently, the Men were skilled at detecting invaders, Pid +thought. He wished he knew how the other expeditions had failed. It +would make his job much easier. + + * * * * * + +A Man lurched past them on two incredibly stiff legs. Rigidity was +evident in his every move. Without looking, he hurried past. + +"I know," Ger said, after the creature had moved away. "I'll disguise +myself as a Man, walk through the gate to the reactor room, and +activate my Displacer." + +"You can't speak their language," Pid pointed out. + +"I won't speak at all. I'll ignore them. Look." Quickly Ger shaped +himself into a Man. + +"That's not bad," Pid said. + +Ger tried a few practice steps, copying the bumpy walk of the Man. + +"But I'm afraid it won't work," Pid said. + +"It's perfectly logical," Ger pointed out. + +"I know. Therefore the other expeditions must have tried it. And none +of them came back." + +There was no arguing that. Ger flowed back into the shape of a log. +"What, then?" he asked. + +"Let me think," Pid said. + +Another creature lurched past, on four legs instead of two. Pid +recognized it as a Dog, a pet of Man. He watched it carefully. + +The Dog ambled to the gate, head down, in no particular hurry. It +walked through, unchallenged, and lay down in the grass. + +"H'm," Pid said. + +They watched. One of the Men walked past, and touched the Dog on the +head. The Dog stuck out its tongue and rolled over on its side. + +"I can do that," Ger said excitedly. He started to flow into the shape +of a Dog. + +"No, wait," Pid said. "We'll spend the rest of the day thinking it +over. This is too important to rush into." + +Ger subsided sulkily. + +"Come on, let's move back," Pid said. He and Ger started into the +woods. Then he remembered Ilg. + +"Ilg?" he called softly. + +There was no answer. + +"Ilg!" + +"What? Oh, yes," an oak tree said, and melted into a bush. "Sorry. +What were you saying?" + +"We're moving back," Pid said. "Were you, by any chance, Thinking?" + +"Oh, no," Ilg assured him. "Just resting." + +Pid let it go at that. There was too much else to worry about. + + * * * * * + +They discussed it for the rest of the day, hidden in the deepest part +of the woods. The only alternatives seemed to be Man or Dog. A Tree +couldn't walk past the gates, since that was not in the nature of +trees. Nor could anything else, and escape notice. + +Going as a Man seemed too risky. They decided that Ger would sally out +in the morning as a Dog. + +"Now get some sleep," Pid said. + +Obediently his two crewmen flattened out, going immediately Shapeless. +But Pid had a more difficult time. + +Everything looked too easy. Why wasn't the atomic installation better +guarded? Certainly the Men must have learned something from the +expeditions they had captured in the past. Or had they killed them +without asking any questions? + +You couldn't tell what an alien would do. + +Was that open gate a trap? + +Wearily he flowed into a comfortable position on the lumpy ground. +Then he pulled himself together hastily. + +He had gone Shapeless! + +Comfort was not in the line of duty, he reminded himself, and firmly +took a Pilot's Shape. + +But a Pilot's Shape wasn't constructed for sleeping on damp, bumpy +ground. Pid spent a restless night, thinking of ships, and wishing he +were flying one. + +He awoke in the morning tired and ill-tempered. He nudged Ger. + +"Let's get this over with," he said. + +Ger flowed gaily to his feet. + +"Come on, Ilg," Pid said angrily, looking around. "Wake up." + +There was no reply. + +"Ilg!" he called. + +Still there was no reply. + +"Help me look for him," Pid said to Ger. "He must be around here +somewhere." + +Together they tested every bush, tree, log and shrub in the vicinity. +But none of them was Ilg. + +Pid began to feel a cold panic run through him. What could have +happened to the Radioman? + +"Perhaps he decided to go through the gate on his own," Ger suggested. +[original: Ilg suggested (n. of transcriber)] + +Pid considered the possibility. It seemed unlikely. Ilg had never +shown much initiative. He had always been content to follow orders. + +They waited. But midday came, and there was still no sign of Ilg. + +"We can't wait any longer," Pid said, and they started through the +woods. Pid wondered if Ilg _had_ tried to get through the gates on his +own. Those quiet types often concealed a foolhardy streak. + +But there was nothing to show that Ilg had been successful. He would +have to assume that the Radioman was dead, or captured by the Men. + +That left two of them to activate a Displacer. + +And he still didn't know what had happened to the other expeditions. + + * * * * * + +At the edge of the woods, Ger turned himself into a facsimile of a +Dog. Pid inspected him carefully. + +"A little less tail," he said. + +Ger shortened his tail. + +"More ears." + +Ger lengthened his ears, + +"Now even them up." + +They became even. + +Pid inspected the finished product. As far as he could tell, Ger was +perfect, from the tip of his tail to his wet, black nose. + +"Good luck," Pid said. + +"Thanks." Cautiously Ger moved out of the woods, walking in the +lurching style of Dogs and Men. At the gate the guard called to him. +Pid held his breath. + +Ger walked past the Man, ignoring him. The Man started to walk over. +Ger broke into a run. + +Pid shaped a pair of strong legs for himself, ready to dash if Ger was +caught. + +But the guard turned back to his gate. Ger stopped running +immediately, and strolled quietly toward the main door of the +building. + +Pid dissolved his legs with a sigh of relief ... and then tensed +again. + +The main door was closed! + +Pid hoped the Radioman wouldn't try to open it. That was _not_ in the +nature of Dogs. + +As he watched, another Dog came running toward Ger. Ger backed away +from him. The Dog approached and sniffed. Ger sniffed back. + +Then both of them ran around the building. + +That was clever, Pid thought. There was bound to be a door in the +rear. + +He glanced up at the afternoon sun. As soon as the Displacer was +activated, the Grom armies would begin to pour through. By the time +the Men recovered from the shock, a million or more Grom troops would +be here, weapons and all. With more following. + +The day passed slowly, and nothing happened. + +Nervously Pid watched the front of the plant. It shouldn't be taking +so long, if Ger were successful. + +Late into the night he waited. Men walked in and out of the +installation, and Dogs barked around the gates. But Ger did not +appear. + +Ger had failed. Ilg was gone. Only he was left. + +And _still_ he didn't know what had happened. + + * * * * * + +By morning, Pid was in complete despair. He knew that the twenty-first +Grom expedition to this planet was near the point of complete failure. +Now it was all up to him. + +He saw that workers were arriving in great number, rushing through the +gates. He decided to take advantage of the apparent confusion, and +started to shape himself into a Man. + +A Dog walked past the woods where he was hiding. + +"Hello," the Dog said. + +It was Ger! + +"What happened?" Pid asked, with a sigh of relief. "Why were you so +long? Couldn't you get in?" + +"I don't know," Ger said, wagging his tail. "I didn't try." + +Pid was speechless. + +"I went hunting," Ger said complacently. "This form is ideal for +Hunting, you know. I went out the rear gate with another Dog." + +"But the expedition--your duty--" + +"I changed my mind," Ger told him. "You know, Pilot, I never wanted to +be a Detector." + +"But you were _born_ a Detector!" + +"That's true," Ger said. "But it doesn't help. I always wanted to be a +Hunter." + +Pid shook his entire body in annoyance. "You can't," he said, very +slowly, as one would explain to a Gromling. "The Hunter shape is +forbidden to you." + +"Not here it isn't," Ger said, still wagging his tail. + +"Let's have no more of this," Pid said angrily. "Get into that +installation and set up your Displacer. I'll try to overlook this +heresy." + +"No," Ger said. "I don't want the Grom here. They'd ruin it for the +rest of us." + +"He's right," a nearby oak tree said. + +"Ilg!" Pid gasped. "Where are you?" + + * * * * * + +Branches stirred. "I'm right here," Ilg said. "I've been Thinking." + +"But--your caste--" + +"Pilot," Ger said sadly, "why don't you wake up? Most of the people on +Grom are miserable. Only custom makes us take the caste-shape of our +ancestors." + +"Pilot," Ilg said, "all Grom are born Shapeless!" + +"And being born Shapeless, all Grom should have Freedom of Shape," +Ger said. + +"Exactly," Ilg said. "But he'll never understand. Now excuse me. I +want to Think." And the oak tree was silent. + +Pid laughed humorlessly. "The Men will kill you off," he said. "Just +as they killed off all the other expeditions." + +"No one from Grom has been killed," Ger told him. "The other +expeditions are right here." + +"Alive?" + +"Certainly. The Men don't even know we exist. That Dog I was Hunting +with is a Grom from the twelfth expedition. There are hundreds of us +here, Pilot. We like it." + +Pid tried to absorb it all. He had always known that the lower castes +were lax in caste-consciousness. But this was preposterous! + +This planet's secret menace was--freedom! + +"Join us, Pilot," Ger said. "We've got a paradise here. Do you know +how many species there are on this planet? An uncountable number! +There's a shape to suit every need!" + +Pid ignored them. Traitors! + +He'd do the job all by himself. + +So Men were unaware of the presence of the Grom. Getting near the +reactor might not be so difficult after all. The others had failed in +their duty because they were of the lower castes, weak and +irresponsible. Even the Pilots among them must have been secretly +sympathetic to the Cult of Shapelessness the Chief had mentioned, or +the alien planet could never have swayed them. + +What shape to assume for his attempt? + +Pid considered. + +A Dog might be best. Evidently Dogs could wander pretty much where +they wished. If something went wrong, Pid could change his shape to +meet the occasion. + +"The Supreme Council will take care of all of you," he snarled, and +shaped himself into a small brown Dog. "I'm going to set up the +Displacer myself." + +He studied himself for a moment, bared his teeth at Ger, and loped +toward the gate. + + * * * * * + +He loped for about ten feet and stopped in utter horror. + +The smells rushed at him from all directions. Smells in a profusion +and variety he had never dreamed existed. Smells that were harsh, +sweet, sharp, heavy, mysterious, overpowering. Smells that terrified. +Alien and repulsive and inescapable, the odors of Earth struck him +like a blow. + +He curled his lips and held his breath. He ran on for a few steps, and +had to breathe again. He almost choked. + +He tried to remold his Dog-nostrils to be less sensitive. It didn't +work. It wouldn't, so long as he kept the Dog-shape. An attempt to +modify his metabolism didn't work either. + +All this in the space of two or three seconds. He was rooted in his +tracks, fighting the smells, wondering what to do. + +Then the noises hit him. + +They were a constant and staggering roar, through which every tiniest +whisper of sound stood out clearly and distinct. Sounds upon +sounds--more noise than he had ever heard before at one time in his +life. The woods behind him had suddenly become a mad-house. + +Utterly confused, he lost control and became Shapeless. + +He half-ran, half-flowed into a nearby bush. There he re-Shaped, +obliterating the offending Dog ears and nostrils with vicious strokes +of his thoughts. + +The Dog-shape was out. Absolutely. Such appalling sharpness of senses +might be fine for a Hunter such as Ger--he probably gloried in them. +But another moment of such impressions would have driven Pid the Pilot +mad. + +What now? He lay in the bush and thought about it, while gradually his +mind threw off the last effects of the dizzying sensory assault. + +He looked at the gate. The Men standing there evidently hadn't noticed +his fiasco. They were looking in another direction. + +... a Man? + +Well, it was worth a try. + + * * * * * + +Studying the Men at the gate, Pid carefully shaped himself into a +facsimile--a synthesis, actually, embodying one characteristic of +that, another of this. + +He emerged from the side of the bush opposite the gate, on his hands +and knees. He sniffed the air, noting that the smells the Man-nostrils +picked up weren't unpleasant at all. In fact, some of them were +decidedly otherwise. It had just been the acuity of the Dog-nostrils, +the number of smells they had detected and the near-brilliance with +which they had done so, that had shocked him. + +Also, the sounds weren't half so devastating. Only relatively close +sounds stood out. All else was an undetailed whispering. + +Evidently, Pid thought, it had been a long time since Men had been +Hunters. + +He tested his legs, standing up and taking a few clumsy steps. _Thud_ +of foot on ground. Drag the other leg forward in a heavy arc. _Thud._ +Rocking from side to side, he marched back and forth behind the bush. +His arms flapped as he sought balance. His head wobbled on its neck, +until he remembered to hold it up. Head up, eyes down, he missed +seeing a small rock. His heel turned on it. He sat down, hard. + +The ankle hurt. Pid curled his Man-lips and crawled back into the +bush. + +The Man-shape was too unspeakably clumsy. It was offensive to plod one +step at a time. Body held rigidly upright. Arms wobbling. There had +been a deluge of sense-impressions in the Dog-shape; there was dull, +stiff, half-alive inadequacy to the Man-shape. + +Besides, it was dangerous, now that Pid thought it over, as well as +distasteful. He couldn't control it properly. It wouldn't look right. +Someone might question him. There was too much about Men he +didn't--couldn't--know. The planting of the Displacer was too +important a thing for him to fumble again. Only luck had kept him from +being seen during the sensory onslaught. + +The Displacer in his body pouch pulsed and tugged, urging him to be on +his way toward the distant reactor room. + +Grimly, Pid let out the last breath he had taken with his Man-lungs, +and dissolved the lungs. + +What shape to take? + +Again he studied the gate, the Men standing beside it, the building +beyond in which was the all-important reactor. + +A small shape was needed. A fast one. An unobtrusive one. + +He lay and thought. + +The bush rustled above him. A small brown shape had fluttered down to +light on a twig. It hopped to another twig, twittering. Then it +fluttered off in a flash, and was gone. + +That, Pid thought, was it. + + * * * * * + +A Sparrow that was not a Sparrow rose from the bush a few moments +later. An observer would have seen it circle the bush, diving, +hedgehopping, even looping, as if practicing all maneuvers possible to +Sparrows. + +Pid tensed his shoulder muscles, inclined his wings. He slipped off to +the right, approached the bush at what seemed breakneck speed, though +he knew this was only because of his small size. At the last second he +lifted his tail. Not quite quickly enough. He swooped up and over the +top of the bush, but his legs brushed the top leaves, his beak went +down, and he stumbled in air for a few feet back-forward. + +He blinked beady eyes as if at a challenge. Back toward the bush at a +fine clip, again up and over. This time cleanly. + +He chose a tree. Zoomed into its network of branches, wove a web of +flight, working his way around and around the trunk, over and under +branches that flashed before him, through crotches with no more than a +feather's-breath to spare. + +At last he rested on a low branch, and found himself chirping in +delight. + +The tree extruded a feeler from the branch he sat on, and touched his +wings and tail. + +"Interesting," said the tree. "I'll have to try that shape some time." + +Ilg. + +"Traitor," hissed Pid, growing a mouth in his chest to hiss it, and +then he did something that caused Ilg to exclaim in outrage. + +Pid flew out of the woods. Over the underbrush and across the open +space toward the gate. + +This body would do the trick! + +This body would do anything! + +He rose, in a matter of a few Sparrow heartbeats, to an altitude of a +hundred feet. From here the gate, the Men, the building were small, +sharp shapes against a green-brown mat. Pid found that he could see +not only with unaccustomed clarity, but with a range of vision that +astonished him. To right and to left he could see far into the hazy +blue of the sky, and the higher he rose the farther he could see. + +He rose higher. + +The Displacer pulsed, reminding him of the job he had to do. + + * * * * * + +He stiffened his wings and glided, regretfully putting aside his +desires to experiment with this wonderful shape, at least for the +present. After he planted the Displacer, he would go off by himself +for a while and do it just a little more--somewhere where Ilg and Ger +would not see him--before the Grom Army arrived and the invasion +began. + +He felt a tiny twinge of guilt, as he circled. It was Evil to want to +keep this alien flying shape any longer than was absolutely necessary +to the performance of his duty. It was a device of the Shapeless One-- + +But what had Ilg said? _All Grom are born Shapeless._ It was true. +Grom children were amorphous, until old enough to be instructed in the +caste-shape of their ancestors. + +Maybe it wasn't _too_ great a sin to alter your Shape, then--just once +in a long while. After all, one must be fully aware of the nature of +Evil in order to meaningfully reject it. + +He had fallen lower in circling. The Displacer pulse had strengthened. +For some reason it irritated him. He drove higher on strong wings, +circled again. Air rushed past him--a smooth, whispering flow, pierced +by his beak, streaming invisibly past his sharp eyes, moving along his +body in tiny turbulences that moved his feathers against his skin. + +It occurred to him--or rather struck him with considerable force--that +he was satisfying a longing of his Pilot Caste that went far deeper +than Piloting. + +He drove powerfully with his wings, felt tonus across his back, shot +forward and up. He thought of the controls of his ship. He imagined +flowing into them, becoming part of them, as he had so often done--and +for the first time in his life the thought failed to excite him. + +No machine could compare with this! + +What he would give to have wings of his own! + +_... Get from my sight, Shapeless One!_ + +The Displacer must be planted, activated. All Grom depended on him. + +He eyed the building, far below. He would pass over it. The Displacer +would tell him which window to enter--which window was so near the +reactor that he could do his job before the Men even knew he was +about. + +He started to drop lower, and the Hawk struck. + + * * * * * + +It had been above him. His first inkling of danger was the sharp pain +of talons in his back, and the stunning blow of a beak across his +head. + +Dazed, he let his back go Shapeless. His body-substance flowed from +the grasp of the talons. He dropped a dozen feet and resumed +Sparrow-shape, hearing an astonished squawk from the attacker. + +He banked, and looked up. The Hawk was eyeing him. + +Talons spread again. The sharp beak gaped. The Hawk swooped. + +Pid had to fight as a Bird, naturally. He was four hundred feet above +the ground. + +So he became an impossibly deadly Bird. + +He grew to twice the size of the Hawk. He grew a foot-long beak with +a double razor's edge. He grew talons like six inch scimitars. His +eyes gleamed a red challenge. + +The Hawk broke flight, squalling in alarm. Frantically, tail down and +widespread, it thundered its wings and came to a dead stop six feet +from Pid. + +Looking thoughtfully at Pid, it allowed itself to plummet. It fell a +hundred feet, spread its wings, stretched its neck and flew off so +hastily that its wings became blurs. + +Pid saw no reason to pursue it. + +Then, after a moment, he did. + +He glided, keeping the Hawk in sight, thoughts racing, feeling the +newness, the power, the wonder of Freedom of Shape. + +Freedom.... + +He did not want to give it up. + +The bird-shape was wondrous. He would experiment with it. Later, he +might tire of it for a time and assume another--a crawling or running +shape, or even a swimming one. The possibilities for excitement, for +adventure, for fulfilment and simple sensual pleasure were endless! + +Freedom of Shape was--obviously, now that you thought on it--the Grom +birthright. And the caste-system was artificial--obviously. A device +for political and priestly benefit--obviously. + +_Go away, Shapeless One ... this does not concern you._ + +He rose to a thousand feet, two thousand, three. The Displacer's pulse +grew feebler and finally vanished. + +At four thousand feet he released it and watched it spin downward, +vanish into a cloud. + +Then he set out after the Hawk, which was now only a dot on the +horizon. He would find out how the Hawk had broken flight as it +had--skidded on air--he wanted to do that too! There were so many +things he wanted to learn about flying. In a week, he thought, he +should be able to duplicate all the skill that millennia had evolved +into Birds. Then his new life would really begin. + +He became a torpedo-shape with huge wings, and sped after the Hawk. + + ROBERT SHECKLEY + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Keep Your Shape, by Robert Sheckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEEP YOUR SHAPE *** + +***** This file should be named 32346.txt or 32346.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/3/4/32346/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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