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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/32726-h.zip b/32726-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61a03c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/32726-h.zip diff --git a/32726-h/32726-h.htm b/32726-h/32726-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e344e49 --- /dev/null +++ b/32726-h/32726-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1339 @@ +<!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 Death of a B. E. M., by Berkeley Livingston + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; 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: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.p1 { margin-left: 40%; } + +.caption {font-weight: bold; font-size:smaller;} + +/* 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; +} + +.figleft1 { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; + margin-top: 0.2em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Death of a B.E.M., by Berkeley Livingston + +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: Death of a B.E.M. + +Author: Berkeley Livingston + +Release Date: June 7, 2010 [EBook #32726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH OF A B.E.M. *** + + + + +Produced by 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 Amazing Stories October 1948. 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="546" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The writer hated to create bug-eyed +monsters, but they hated him too!</p></div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>DEATH OF A B. E. M.</h1> + +<h2>By BERKELEY LIVINGSTON</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> +<img src="images/image_1.png" width="430" height="603" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">The B. E. M. purred contentedly +as the giant stroked his +eyeballs</span> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p>"Blast them!" the writer +groaned in bitter accents. +"How I hate those B. E. +M's.!"</p> + +<p>"Hang them!" the artist yelled. +"How I hate those B. E. M's.!"</p> + +<p>"Darn them!" the B. E. M. moaned. +"How I hate those humans!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The artist and the writer sat +staring at each other in wordless +misery, their coffee untasted and +their spirits at low ebb. Up above, +in the beehive that was the publishing +house which gave them +their livelihood, the word had gone +around. <i>B. E. M'S, B. E. M'S....</i></p> + +<p>Sadly, in accents forlorn, the +writer said:</p> + +<p>"Bug-eyed monsters! Ye gads! +Bug-eyed monsters! Jack, old boy, +do you realize we're setting science-fiction +back a hundred years?"</p> + +<p>"I know just how you feel, Harry," +the artist replied. "After all, +we too had presumed that we had +been freed of these monsters. So +back we go to the drawing board, +our minds tortured and twisted ..." +He sighed disconsolately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," the writer sighed and +blew out his breath. He stared fixedly +at his coffee until a something +blue slipped into focus. His glance +traveled upward from the hem of +the girl's apron, past the lovely +swell of her charms and on past the +sweet throat, to the gay, smiling +face and sparkling eyes. Forgotten +then were B. E. M's. for both. +Diane, the goddess of the restaurant +corps of enchanting waitresses, +was at their side....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hiah-Leugh was having his eyeballs +massaged. It was a delicate +and tedious operation for the one +doing the massaging; not every Goman +was possessed of eight eyeballs. +But Hiah-Leugh was not an ordinary +Goman. Not he! He was chief +of all the Gomans, which meant he +was head of all the bug-eyed monsters +on the whole of the planet of +XYZ268PDQ.</p> + +<p>The four-headed slave, one of the +giants Hiah-Leugh's tribe had captured +on one of their forays into the +terrible forest of Evil Contractions, +scratched himself with one of his +six arms. He was quite bored with +this peaceful, though tedious pursuit +the tribe of Hiah-Leugh had +given to him as his duties. Especially +the massaging of eyeballs. Of +course it helped to have six arms. +Ooh! His four heads ranged themselves +in a single line.</p> + +<p>The slave had committed a sin.</p> + +<p>There were three cardinal sins on +the planet of XYZ268PDQ. Two of +them were unmentionable and the +third was forgetting to massage all +of the eight eyeballs of Hiah-Leugh +at one and the same time. If it were +not for the massage the giants of +the planet would all live in peace. +But it took a man with six arms to +do the job. In fact it was to the regret +of Hiah-Leugh that the giants +did not have eight arms.</p> + +<p>Now one of the eyelids was closing. +In a second or two it would be +closed completely and once a single +of the eight eyes closed the others +automatically followed suit. There +was but a single thing to do in this +case. The giant did it.</p> + +<p>He poked his finger into the +drooping lid.</p> + +<p>Hiah-Leugh awoke with a suddenness +of shock and startled surprise. +He howled in pain then leaped from +the chair, scuttling about the room-of-massage +on his twelve pairs of +crablike legs at a great pace.</p> + +<p>"Heavens to Betsy!" Hiah-Leugh +screamed. "You <i>are</i> the +clumsiest giant.... But what can a +B. E. M. expect? Oh, well! You're +excused. Go and see if there are any +children to frighten...."</p> + +<p>There were four different expressions +on the four heads. One +showed pleasure, and another, surprise and a third, gloom and the +fourth was blank completely. This +head was the dumb one. It had but +one expression, blankness. The four +heads bent and the great body bowed +low, and slowly, with great effort +and with many bumpings into +various pieces of furniture, the +giant bowed himself out of the massage +parlor.</p> + +<p>Hiah-Leugh was left alone.</p> + +<p>But not for long. Suddenly a +whole section of the wall slid back +showing another room. This was the +famous Gloating Chamber of Hiah-Leugh. +Here were brought all the +victims the tribe captured. And here +it was that their chief was supposed +to spend his time in <i>Gloating</i> over +the tortures his torturers were supposed +to spend their time in devising. +But business had been very bad +lately. Not only was there not a single +victim in the Gloating Chamber, +there was not a single torturer +available. Hiah-Leugh suddenly remembered. +Something about a picnic.... +Then why had the wall slid +back?</p> + +<p>"<i>Hiah-Leugh! Hiah-Leugh!</i>" it +was the clarion call of his ninth concubine, +the lovely and charming +Sally Patica. But what in the name +of all that was unmentionable was +she doing in the Gloating Chamber? +Of course she too could be <i>Gloating</i>!</p> + +<p>He moved slowly toward the +room, hoping against hope she was +not in a bad mood. The last time +she had called in that tone of voice +he had suffered greatly. She had +made him go without an eyeball +massage for a whole week....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>She was pacing back and forth +on the long, raised platform. +Hiah-Leugh skirted the Iron Maiden, +the Pallid Pulley, the Bronze +Beater, the Copper Conker, and +Giant Mas-Mixer, which was a fake. +Nothing was ever mixed in it except +the noxious weed Hiah-Leugh used +in his pipe. At the sound of his approach +Sally stopped her pacing +and fixed him with a baleful glance +out of eyes, four and five. Eyes, two +and three were busy seeing if her +coiffure was right and eyes one, six +and seven were having their lids +tweezed. After all, she had twelve +pairs of legs which were also used +for hands. A heck of a lot could be +done with so many appendages.</p> + +<p>She started in even before he +quite reached her side:</p> + +<p>"Where is everybody? Do I have +to sit by myself every day? <i>Must</i> +you have your eyeballs massaged +<i>everyday</i>? Where are the torturers? +Where is everybody...?"</p> + +<p>"I think there's a picnic scheduled +for today, dear," Hiah-Leugh +said.</p> + +<p>"Why wasn't I told about it?" +Sally demanded.</p> + +<p>She had very probably <i>been</i> told +about it but knowing his ninth concubine +and the limits of her memory, +she had very surely forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Hiah-Leugh!" she broke in on +him before he could frame a reply. +"I'm so terribly, terribly bored! +There hasn't been a good torture +since, since ... when <i>was</i> the last +time there was a torture party?"</p> + +<p>"The time Gin-Pad was caught +stealing wokkerjabbies from his +youngest child," Hiah-Leugh said. +"We put him in the Pallid Pulley +and stretched four of his legs until +they were longer than the rest. And +to this day Gin-Pad walks like he's +looking for something between his +forelegs...."</p> + +<p>Six of Sally's seven pairs of eyes +crossed suddenly, a sign she was in +thought. Hiah-Leugh had the wishful +hope that the seventh pair would +cross. When that happened Sally +would be ex-concubine. She would +also be ex-living but that didn't +bother him. We all have to die sometime, +he thought. But why does she +have to live so long? The thought +processes of Sally Patica wound +their weary way and came to their +proper end. Life was boresome. And +she had to think of something to +make it less so. She did.</p> + +<p>"Y'know, Hiah," she said as she +uncrossed her eyes, "I have an +idea...."</p> + +<p>The chief of all the Gomans rolled +all eight pairs of his eyes ceiling-ward. +Not another of her ideas. Oh +no! Not that! The last time she had +one of her ideas it was for a treasure +hunt, a treasure hunt for a five-headed +giant, despite Hiah-Leugh's +insistence there were no such beings. +But she wanted one dead or alive. +She got it, dead. What Sally didn't +know was that her mate gave orders +to have one killed and have a fifth +head sewn on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>Love, however, was as strong on +planet XYZ268PDQ as it was on +any other planet, and as burdensome, +and though Hiah-Leugh felt +his heart sink, he also knew he +would give in to her wishes.</p> + +<p>"... What do you think of this; +bring some humans up here and +we'll run a torture party for our +fiends?"</p> + +<p>The male's jaw dropped, all three +feet of it. This was even worse than +he had imagined. <i>Bring some humans +up here</i>, she said. Had she any +idea of what that entailed? No. +<i>NOO!</i></p> + +<p>He tried to reason with her:</p> + +<p>"Darling. Wait. Don't be hasty. +Let me explain. In the first place +have you ever met a human?"</p> + +<p>"What difference does that +make?" she pouted. "I've heard +about them."</p> + +<p>"But sweetheart," he went on in +his pleading. "They're quite horrible. +They have but one head, and +a single pair of arms and legs. They +walk upright and they can only bear +<i>children</i>...."</p> + +<p>This was new to her.</p> + +<p>"... Children...?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! And they're horrible +things, really. Must be raised on +pablum and formulas and things +like that. <i>Formulas.</i> Sounds mechanical. +No, Sally, my pet. I'll think +of something else. Something which +will not require so much work...."</p> + +<p>It was the wrong thing to say. +He knew it the instant he said it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Work!</i>" she yelped. "So that's +what's troubling you. Too much +work you say. And what is occupying +your time now? Have you even +so much as gone to the forest of Evil +Contractions to capture a giant in +the past six months? Not you! +You're satisfied with the way things +are. You wouldn't give a hang if I +died of boredom. And when I ask +for something like a torture party, +all you can say is, it's too much +work."</p> + +<p>She started to cry. And after all +she had seven pairs of eyes to shed +tears from. It was the biggest crying +jag since the invasion from +space a millenium before when the +invaders used tear gas....</p> + +<p>Hiah-Leugh threw up all the arms +he could spare and shouted:</p> + +<p>"Okay. <i>OKAY!</i> I'll call a meeting +of the Council and we'll plan +something."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"The situation is this," Hiah-Leugh +said in opening the +meeting, "we must (get the) right to work +and bring some humans up here."</p> + +<p>The assembled B. E. M's. stopped +looking bored at the words. They +had wondered why their chieftan +had called the meeting. Now they +knew. One after the other they repeated +the words as if they couldn't +believe their senses. Humans! Here +on Planet XYZ268PDQ.</p> + +<p>"But mighty chief," one of them +said in objection. "Do you realize +what you're asking of us?"</p> + +<p>Another said:</p> + +<p>"How, when...?"</p> + +<p>And a third asked:</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Our scientists, that's who," +Hiah-Leugh answered. "What the +heck we got them for anyway? +Seems all they do is sleep. Let them +wake up and to work."</p> + +<p>But the oldest and wisest of them +said:</p> + +<p>"Why can't we be normal monsters +and not act like we're expected +to? Isn't peace enough for +us? Must we look for trouble?"</p> + +<p>But their chieftan knew there was +no turning back. Not if he wanted +peace. And knowing Sally Patica, +he also knew there would be no +peace for him until he brought some +humans up for torture.</p> + +<p>"Let them construct space ships, +terrible weapons of war, plagues +and all the necessary adjuncts to +planetary invasion. Let them prepare +for the holocaust," Hiah-Leugh +shouted, drowning out the +others.</p> + +<p>But it was the youngest, a mere +youth of ten thousand years, upon +whose head but a single eye showed, +who pointed out the path. He was already +bored with this meeting; besides, +he had but fallen in love the +day before and wanted to get back +to his amorata.</p> + +<p>"Why all this fuss?" he asked. +"What's more, we don't have scientists, +or mathematicians, or warriors. +If the giants weren't so stupid +we'd never capture them. So +let's stop this foolishness, this +dreaming...."</p> + +<p>That was the clue. After all, Hiah-Leugh +hadn't been made chief of +all the Gomans for nothing. He +proved his right to the leadership +then.</p> + +<p>"That's it!" he said. "The artists +and writers of the human world +have made monsters of us, even +though we can't do any of the things +they pretend we can. There is but +a single attribute we possess which +they have said we do. We can project +ourselves through space and +time. So let us to the Earth, and +pluck one or two of these humans, +and if I may offer a suggestion, let +us take a writer and artist from +among them and bring them back +with us...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Harry Zmilch, writer-extraordinary +of science-fiction, passed +weary fingers across a furrowed +brow. A few feet to the rear of the +desk at which Zmilch labored stood +the drawing board of Jack Gangreneyellow, +the artist. He too paused +in his labors. At one and the +same instant they turned and regarded +each other with solemn, staring +eyes.</p> + +<p>"No use, Joe," Harry said. +"I can't do it. I've beaten my +brain until it refuses to function. I +keep typing the same word over +and over again ... nuts ... nuts!... +Bug-eyed monsters! There aren't +such things. My imagination just +can't bring them to paper."</p> + +<p>"Nor can mine to the board," +Jack said.</p> + +<p>"Still it's easier for you," Harry +said. "All you've got to do is draw +a spider or huge bug of sorts, put +a man and woman somewhere in the +drawing, make the woman appear +as if she'd lost half her clothes in a +struggle, and you've got your piece. +With me it's different."</p> + +<p>Gangreneyellow snorted. This +character, he thought, knew as little +of art and the difficulties of composition +as the next guy.</p> + +<p>"That's what you think," he retorted. +"All you guys have to do +is <i>imagine</i> a monster, have a man +and woman placed in peril by the +monster's presence and you've got +a story. With us it's different...."</p> + +<p>Zmilch was half-turned, facing his +friend across the width of one shoulder. +At the other's words, Zmilch +turned all the way, got up from his +chair and strolled to the board on +which a drawing in full color was in +its last stages. The drawing depicted +a jungle scene. In the foreground +a man and woman stood in +petrified stance, the man's arm +around the woman's shoulders. He +was dressed for safari, pith helmet, +breeches, boots, open shirt and all. +The woman looked like she'd spent +all her life in the jungle. She wore +a leopard skin draped becomingly +to show the greater part of her +charms. They were in semiprofile +so that the artist could depict the +terror on their faces. And full in the +center of the drawing was an immense +web stretched between the +boles of two jungle giants. Descending +the web was a gigantic bug, or +spider, the artist had not detailed +it too well.</p> + +<p>"I thought you said you were +finding it hard to do?" Zmilch +asked. "Why you've just about finished +it."</p> + +<p>Gangreneyellow, not to be outdone +by his friend, walked over to +the other's desk and read aloud +from the author's manuscript:</p> + +<p>"'... Tom Brighteyes knew he +hadn't the smallest chance of escaping. +The hordes of Micro Ambrosia +were but a short way off. Ahead +the Great Swamp blocked any +chances of escape for him and the +Leopard Girl. Their doom was sealed. +He turned to her and said:</p> + +<p>"Leopard Girl, I love you. I +know. I'm from another world, a +world where men and women are +not the same as this. Oh, I don't +mean the outward man and woman, +but the inward. This is a savage +world, a world where both men and +women have to struggle to exist +against terrifying odds. Horrible +beasts, terrible insects, and natural +phenomena make this place a nightmare +of existence. But here I +found love and perhaps death. I am +not sorry I came."</p> + +<p>"Tom Brighteyes," the girl turned +to him and drew close. "I love +you too. I think I felt love from +the first instant I saw you, backed +against a tree, with your puny +weapons facing Hogo the Mogo, +king of all the swampland. Hogo the +Mogo used to eat guys like you for +breakfast. Yet you drew a cigarette +from a silver, enamel case upon +whose shining face a small chaste +crest revealed your excellent taste +in such things, and while Hogo the +Mogo slavered his hate in your face, +you drew a king's size, Exhilirato +from the case and lit it with a nonchalance +that took my breath away...."</p> + +<p>"What the heck are you complaining +about?" Gangreneyellow +asked. "You're not doing so badly +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," said a strange voice. +"Neither of you are doing badly. +Everything is just horrible, isn't it? +The B. E. M's. march across your +pages and drawing boards with +assembly-line facility. But have +either of you two had any feelings +for us?"</p> + +<p>The two men turned startled and +terrified faces in the direction of the +mysterious voice. They could see +nothing. Yet they could feel the impalpable +presence of some strange +being in this very room with them. +Suddenly they became aware of a +strange fog emanating from one +wall. It swept closer drawing them +into its greasy folds. The voice +seemed to come from the very heart +of this fog:</p> + +<p>"... Well, perhaps things will be +different soon...?"</p> + +<p>Then the fog enveloped them completely, +and their senses fled from +them....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was an odd sort of voice, mellow, +fluid, yet holding accents of +anger in its even flow:</p> + +<p>"Both of you complained you +couldn't imagine this. So we brought +you here to prove its existence."</p> + +<p>The writer and artist opened +their eyes and the fog in which +they'd been bound was no longer +there. They were in an immense +chamber whose vaulted ceiling extended +for a full hundred feet in +the air and seemed suspended by +slender strings, so tenuous were +the web-like supports, so fragile +were the arches. They were standing +before a tremendous table whose +semi-circular length might have +been fifty feet from one end to the +other. And seated at the table were +the most horrifying monsters they +had ever seen.</p> + +<p>There was one, a huge beetle-like +thing with two heads and a scaly +body and four pairs of pincers extending +from the line of jaw. +There was, another, somewhat like +a spider, but with dozens of legs. A +third was half-man, half alligator; +a fourth was all snake, but with +three human heads; and another +was all head without body. They +were, the two men realized, the most +terrible <i>things</i> they had ever imagined.</p> + +<p>"... And there is the rub," the +voice went on. "We are all as you +have imagined us. We exist only +in your imagination."</p> + +<p>"But how can that be?" Harry +Zmilch asked. "We are here. We +can see you...."</p> + +<p>"Only because your imaginations +have been developed to such a degree," +the voice replied. "Were +you able to you would imagine us as +something altogether different. +But since there are limits to your +imagination we are as we are. Now +you must pay the penalty of that +imagination.</p> + +<p>"Torture will be the price we will +exact from you...."</p> + +<p>In an instant they were transported +to the torture chamber. +They saw the horrible machines, +the Copper Conker, the Pallid Pulley, +and the rest. And up on the +platform they saw Sally Patica in +all her glory, her seven pairs of +eyes watering so great was her excitement.</p> + +<p>The monsters got in each other's +way so hurried were they to tie and +make fast the two humans to the +torture machines. And despite Harry's and Jack's screams, they were +bound, hand and foot and placed +on each of the machines in turn. +But though the machines whirled +and clanked and ground and grunted +and snarled their vicious ways the +two humans could not feel a single +thing. Yet all about them the +horrible monsters screamed and +shouted and laughed and danced +and on the platform Sally Patica +shrieked with joy.</p> + +<p>"A torture party at last," she +screamed. "Oh, Hiah-Leugh, I'm +so happy. I'm the happiest monster +in the whole world."</p> + +<p>But down below, on the last of the +machines in the assembly line, Harry +Zmilch thought as he was being +whirled around, his head always +meeting a mace-like thing which +was supposed to shear a slice from +his head at every turn but which +felt like a feather, gosh! If I get +back alive what a story I could do +on B. E. M's.</p> + +<p>While on another instrument of +torture, the Pallid Pulley, a device +supposed to tear the limbs slowly +from a man, Jack Gangreneyellow +thought, man! what a cover I could +make if ever I get out of this.</p> + +<p>A strange thing happened then.</p> + +<p>The machines stopped their whirring, +the monsters stopped their +shriekings, and Jack and Harry +stopped moving.</p> + +<p>"Ohh, you nasty humans," Hiah-Leugh +said. "Now you've spoiled +our party!"</p> + +<p>"Why?" Harry asked.</p> + +<p>"Because all this has been in vain. +All you can see is that we're monsters. +And as such we have no feelings +except for the giving of pain, +torture and death. Gosh, fellas! +Can't you see these things aren't +real? We're the nicest monsters."</p> + +<p>But all Harry and Jack could +think of was that B. E. M's. were +real. Further, they were as terrible +as anything they had ever imagined.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hiah-Leugh went on. +"We are as you have imagined because +we live only in your imagination. +And there we live as monsters. +If in the beginning you had +given us other lines to read and +other lives to live, things might be +as they really are. But no. The +human race had to be the master +race. The insect world and the animal +world could only provide danger +and conflict." He turned to the +assembled monsters and said, sadly, +"Okay, boys. Turn 'em loose. +Let them go back to their typewriters +and drawing boards...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Harry Zmilch shook his head +savagely and looked at his +friend. He was doing the same.</p> + +<p>"Got dizzy for a second," Harry +said." Gees! Have I got a swell ending +for my story...."</p> + +<p>"Funny," Jack said. "I got +dizzy too. And have I got a sweet +idea for a monster. All detail...."</p> + +<p>Harry went back and typed:</p> + +<p>'But Tom Brighteyes was no +longer listening to the voice of his +beloved. Behind him were the advance +guards of Hogo the Mogo. +And ahead the dreaded swamp. +There was but one thing to do, go +into the sixth dimension, the fifth +was already too perilous. Drawing +the girl within the embrace of +his brawny arms, he closed his eyes +and sent out the powerful thought +waves which would send him into +the sixth dimension....'</p> + +<p>And at the end, he tacked on:</p> + +<p>To be continued next month....</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Death of a B.E.M., by Berkeley Livingston + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH OF A B.E.M. *** + +***** This file should be named 32726-h.htm or 32726-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/7/2/32726/ + +Produced by 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: Death of a B.E.M. + +Author: Berkeley Livingston + +Release Date: June 7, 2010 [EBook #32726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH OF A B.E.M. *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Amazing Stories October 1948. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + +[Illustration: The B. E. M. purred contentedly as the giant stroked his +eyeballs] + + DEATH OF A B. E. M. + + by BERKELEY LIVINGSTON + + The writer hated to create bug-eyed monsters, but they hated him + too! + + + +"Blast them!" the writer groaned in bitter accents. "How I hate those +B. E. M's.!" + +"Hang them!" the artist yelled. "How I hate those B. E. M's.!" + +"Darn them!" the B. E. M. moaned. "How I hate those humans!" + + * * * * * + +The artist and the writer sat staring at each other in wordless +misery, their coffee untasted and their spirits at low ebb. Up above, +in the beehive that was the publishing house which gave them their +livelihood, the word had gone around. _B. E. M'S, B. E. M'S...._ + +Sadly, in accents forlorn, the writer said: + +"Bug-eyed monsters! Ye gads! Bug-eyed monsters! Jack, old boy, do you +realize we're setting science-fiction back a hundred years?" + +"I know just how you feel, Harry," the artist replied. "After all, we +too had presumed that we had been freed of these monsters. So back we +go to the drawing board, our minds tortured and twisted ..." He sighed +disconsolately. + +"Oh, well," the writer sighed and blew out his breath. He stared +fixedly at his coffee until a something blue slipped into focus. His +glance traveled upward from the hem of the girl's apron, past the +lovely swell of her charms and on past the sweet throat, to the gay, +smiling face and sparkling eyes. Forgotten then were B. E. M's. for +both. Diane, the goddess of the restaurant corps of enchanting +waitresses, was at their side.... + + * * * * * + +Hiah-Leugh was having his eyeballs massaged. It was a delicate and +tedious operation for the one doing the massaging; not every Goman was +possessed of eight eyeballs. But Hiah-Leugh was not an ordinary Goman. +Not he! He was chief of all the Gomans, which meant he was head of all +the bug-eyed monsters on the whole of the planet of XYZ268PDQ. + +The four-headed slave, one of the giants Hiah-Leugh's tribe had +captured on one of their forays into the terrible forest of Evil +Contractions, scratched himself with one of his six arms. He was quite +bored with this peaceful, though tedious pursuit the tribe of +Hiah-Leugh had given to him as his duties. Especially the massaging of +eyeballs. Of course it helped to have six arms. Ooh! His four heads +ranged themselves in a single line. + +The slave had committed a sin. + +There were three cardinal sins on the planet of XYZ268PDQ. Two of them +were unmentionable and the third was forgetting to massage all of the +eight eyeballs of Hiah-Leugh at one and the same time. If it were not +for the massage the giants of the planet would all live in peace. But +it took a man with six arms to do the job. In fact it was to the +regret of Hiah-Leugh that the giants did not have eight arms. + +Now one of the eyelids was closing. In a second or two it would be +closed completely and once a single of the eight eyes closed the +others automatically followed suit. There was but a single thing to do +in this case. The giant did it. + +He poked his finger into the drooping lid. + +Hiah-Leugh awoke with a suddenness of shock and startled surprise. He +howled in pain then leaped from the chair, scuttling about the +room-of-massage on his twelve pairs of crablike legs at a great pace. + +"Heavens to Betsy!" Hiah-Leugh screamed. "You _are_ the clumsiest +giant.... But what can a B. E. M. expect? Oh, well! You're excused. Go +and see if there are any children to frighten...." + +There were four different expressions on the four heads. One showed +pleasure, and another, surprise and a third, gloom and the fourth was +blank completely. This head was the dumb one. It had but one +expression, blankness. The four heads bent and the great body bowed +low, and slowly, with great effort and with many bumpings into various +pieces of furniture, the giant bowed himself out of the massage +parlor. + +Hiah-Leugh was left alone. + +But not for long. Suddenly a whole section of the wall slid back +showing another room. This was the famous Gloating Chamber of +Hiah-Leugh. Here were brought all the victims the tribe captured. And +here it was that their chief was supposed to spend his time in +_Gloating_ over the tortures his torturers were supposed to spend +their time in devising. But business had been very bad lately. Not +only was there not a single victim in the Gloating Chamber, there was +not a single torturer available. Hiah-Leugh suddenly remembered. +Something about a picnic.... Then why had the wall slid back? + +"_Hiah-Leugh! Hiah-Leugh!_" it was the clarion call of his ninth +concubine, the lovely and charming Sally Patica. But what in the name +of all that was unmentionable was she doing in the Gloating Chamber? +Of course she too could be _Gloating_! + +He moved slowly toward the room, hoping against hope she was not in a +bad mood. The last time she had called in that tone of voice he had +suffered greatly. She had made him go without an eyeball massage for a +whole week.... + + * * * * * + +She was pacing back and forth on the long, raised platform. Hiah-Leugh +skirted the Iron Maiden, the Pallid Pulley, the Bronze Beater, the +Copper Conker, and Giant Mas-Mixer, which was a fake. Nothing was ever +mixed in it except the noxious weed Hiah-Leugh used in his pipe. At +the sound of his approach Sally stopped her pacing and fixed him with +a baleful glance out of eyes, four and five. Eyes, two and three were +busy seeing if her coiffure was right and eyes one, six and seven were +having their lids tweezed. After all, she had twelve pairs of legs +which were also used for hands. A heck of a lot could be done with so +many appendages. + +She started in even before he quite reached her side: + +"Where is everybody? Do I have to sit by myself every day? _Must_ you +have your eyeballs massaged _everyday_? Where are the torturers? Where +is everybody...?" + +"I think there's a picnic scheduled for today, dear," Hiah-Leugh said. + +"Why wasn't I told about it?" Sally demanded. + +She had very probably _been_ told about it but knowing his ninth +concubine and the limits of her memory, she had very surely forgotten. + +"Hiah-Leugh!" she broke in on him before he could frame a reply. "I'm +so terribly, terribly bored! There hasn't been a good torture since, +since ... when _was_ the last time there was a torture party?" + +"The time Gin-Pad was caught stealing wokkerjabbies from his youngest +child," Hiah-Leugh said. "We put him in the Pallid Pulley and +stretched four of his legs until they were longer than the rest. And +to this day Gin-Pad walks like he's looking for something between his +forelegs...." + +Six of Sally's seven pairs of eyes crossed suddenly, a sign she was +in thought. Hiah-Leugh had the wishful hope that the seventh pair +would cross. When that happened Sally would be ex-concubine. She would +also be ex-living but that didn't bother him. We all have to die +sometime, he thought. But why does she have to live so long? The +thought processes of Sally Patica wound their weary way and came to +their proper end. Life was boresome. And she had to think of something +to make it less so. She did. + +"Y'know, Hiah," she said as she uncrossed her eyes, "I have an +idea...." + +The chief of all the Gomans rolled all eight pairs of his eyes +ceiling-ward. Not another of her ideas. Oh no! Not that! The last time +she had one of her ideas it was for a treasure hunt, a treasure hunt +for a five-headed giant, despite Hiah-Leugh's insistence there were no +such beings. But she wanted one dead or alive. She got it, dead. What +Sally didn't know was that her mate gave orders to have one killed and +have a fifth head sewn on his shoulders. + +Love, however, was as strong on planet XYZ268PDQ as it was on any +other planet, and as burdensome, and though Hiah-Leugh felt his heart +sink, he also knew he would give in to her wishes. + +"... What do you think of this; bring some humans up here and we'll +run a torture party for our fiends?" + +The male's jaw dropped, all three feet of it. This was even worse than +he had imagined. _Bring some humans up here_, she said. Had she any +idea of what that entailed? No. _NOO!_ + +He tried to reason with her: + +"Darling. Wait. Don't be hasty. Let me explain. In the first place +have you ever met a human?" + +"What difference does that make?" she pouted. "I've heard about them." + +"But sweetheart," he went on in his pleading. "They're quite horrible. +They have but one head, and a single pair of arms and legs. They walk +upright and they can only bear _children_...." + +This was new to her. + +"... Children...?" + +"Yes! And they're horrible things, really. Must be raised on pablum +and formulas and things like that. _Formulas._ Sounds mechanical. No, +Sally, my pet. I'll think of something else. Something which will not +require so much work...." + +It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it the instant he said it. + +"_Work!_" she yelped. "So that's what's troubling you. Too much work +you say. And what is occupying your time now? Have you even so much as +gone to the forest of Evil Contractions to capture a giant in the past +six months? Not you! You're satisfied with the way things are. You +wouldn't give a hang if I died of boredom. And when I ask for +something like a torture party, all you can say is, it's too much +work." + +She started to cry. And after all she had seven pairs of eyes to shed +tears from. It was the biggest crying jag since the invasion from +space a millenium before when the invaders used tear gas.... + +Hiah-Leugh threw up all the arms he could spare and shouted: + +"Okay. _OKAY!_ I'll call a meeting of the Council and we'll plan +something." + + * * * * * + +"The situation is this," Hiah-Leugh said in opening the meeting, "we +must (get the) right to work and bring some humans up here." + +The assembled B. E. M's. stopped looking bored at the words. They had +wondered why their chieftan had called the meeting. Now they knew. One +after the other they repeated the words as if they couldn't believe +their senses. Humans! Here on Planet XYZ268PDQ. + +"But mighty chief," one of them said in objection. "Do you realize +what you're asking of us?" + +Another said: + +"How, when...?" + +And a third asked: + +"Who?" + +"Our scientists, that's who," Hiah-Leugh answered. "What the heck we +got them for anyway? Seems all they do is sleep. Let them wake up and +to work." + +But the oldest and wisest of them said: + +"Why can't we be normal monsters and not act like we're expected to? +Isn't peace enough for us? Must we look for trouble?" + +But their chieftan knew there was no turning back. Not if he wanted +peace. And knowing Sally Patica, he also knew there would be no peace +for him until he brought some humans up for torture. + +"Let them construct space ships, terrible weapons of war, plagues and +all the necessary adjuncts to planetary invasion. Let them prepare for +the holocaust," Hiah-Leugh shouted, drowning out the others. + +But it was the youngest, a mere youth of ten thousand years, upon +whose head but a single eye showed, who pointed out the path. He was +already bored with this meeting; besides, he had but fallen in love +the day before and wanted to get back to his amorata. + +"Why all this fuss?" he asked. "What's more, we don't have scientists, +or mathematicians, or warriors. If the giants weren't so stupid we'd +never capture them. So let's stop this foolishness, this dreaming...." + +That was the clue. After all, Hiah-Leugh hadn't been made chief of all +the Gomans for nothing. He proved his right to the leadership then. + +"That's it!" he said. "The artists and writers of the human world have +made monsters of us, even though we can't do any of the things they +pretend we can. There is but a single attribute we possess which they +have said we do. We can project ourselves through space and time. So +let us to the Earth, and pluck one or two of these humans, and if I +may offer a suggestion, let us take a writer and artist from among +them and bring them back with us...." + + * * * * * + +Harry Zmilch, writer-extraordinary of science-fiction, passed weary +fingers across a furrowed brow. A few feet to the rear of the desk at +which Zmilch labored stood the drawing board of Jack Gangreneyellow, +the artist. He too paused in his labors. At one and the same instant +they turned and regarded each other with solemn, staring eyes. + +"No use, Joe," Harry said. "I can't do it. I've beaten my brain until +it refuses to function. I keep typing the same word over and over +again ... nuts ... nuts!... Bug-eyed monsters! There aren't such +things. My imagination just can't bring them to paper." + +"Nor can mine to the board," Jack said. + +"Still it's easier for you," Harry said. "All you've got to do is draw +a spider or huge bug of sorts, put a man and woman somewhere in the +drawing, make the woman appear as if she'd lost half her clothes in a +struggle, and you've got your piece. With me it's different." + +Gangreneyellow snorted. This character, he thought, knew as little of +art and the difficulties of composition as the next guy. + +"That's what you think," he retorted. "All you guys have to do is +_imagine_ a monster, have a man and woman placed in peril by the +monster's presence and you've got a story. With us it's different...." + +Zmilch was half-turned, facing his friend across the width of one +shoulder. At the other's words, Zmilch turned all the way, got up from +his chair and strolled to the board on which a drawing in full color +was in its last stages. The drawing depicted a jungle scene. In the +foreground a man and woman stood in petrified stance, the man's arm +around the woman's shoulders. He was dressed for safari, pith helmet, +breeches, boots, open shirt and all. The woman looked like she'd spent +all her life in the jungle. She wore a leopard skin draped becomingly +to show the greater part of her charms. They were in semiprofile so +that the artist could depict the terror on their faces. And full in +the center of the drawing was an immense web stretched between the +boles of two jungle giants. Descending the web was a gigantic bug, or +spider, the artist had not detailed it too well. + +"I thought you said you were finding it hard to do?" Zmilch asked. +"Why you've just about finished it." + +Gangreneyellow, not to be outdone by his friend, walked over to the +other's desk and read aloud from the author's manuscript: + +"'... Tom Brighteyes knew he hadn't the smallest chance of escaping. +The hordes of Micro Ambrosia were but a short way off. Ahead the Great +Swamp blocked any chances of escape for him and the Leopard Girl. +Their doom was sealed. He turned to her and said: + +"Leopard Girl, I love you. I know. I'm from another world, a world +where men and women are not the same as this. Oh, I don't mean the +outward man and woman, but the inward. This is a savage world, a world +where both men and women have to struggle to exist against terrifying +odds. Horrible beasts, terrible insects, and natural phenomena make +this place a nightmare of existence. But here I found love and perhaps +death. I am not sorry I came." + +"Tom Brighteyes," the girl turned to him and drew close. "I love you +too. I think I felt love from the first instant I saw you, backed +against a tree, with your puny weapons facing Hogo the Mogo, king of +all the swampland. Hogo the Mogo used to eat guys like you for +breakfast. Yet you drew a cigarette from a silver, enamel case upon +whose shining face a small chaste crest revealed your excellent taste +in such things, and while Hogo the Mogo slavered his hate in your +face, you drew a king's size, Exhilirato from the case and lit it with +a nonchalance that took my breath away...." + +"What the heck are you complaining about?" Gangreneyellow asked. +"You're not doing so badly yourself." + +"Yeah," said a strange voice. "Neither of you are doing badly. +Everything is just horrible, isn't it? The B. E. M's. march across +your pages and drawing boards with assembly-line facility. But have +either of you two had any feelings for us?" + +The two men turned startled and terrified faces in the direction of +the mysterious voice. They could see nothing. Yet they could feel the +impalpable presence of some strange being in this very room with them. +Suddenly they became aware of a strange fog emanating from one wall. +It swept closer drawing them into its greasy folds. The voice seemed +to come from the very heart of this fog: + +"... Well, perhaps things will be different soon...?" + +Then the fog enveloped them completely, and their senses fled from +them.... + + * * * * * + +It was an odd sort of voice, mellow, fluid, yet holding accents of +anger in its even flow: + +"Both of you complained you couldn't imagine this. So we brought you +here to prove its existence." + +The writer and artist opened their eyes and the fog in which they'd +been bound was no longer there. They were in an immense chamber whose +vaulted ceiling extended for a full hundred feet in the air and seemed +suspended by slender strings, so tenuous were the web-like supports, +so fragile were the arches. They were standing before a tremendous +table whose semi-circular length might have been fifty feet from one +end to the other. And seated at the table were the most horrifying +monsters they had ever seen. + +There was one, a huge beetle-like thing with two heads and a scaly +body and four pairs of pincers extending from the line of jaw. There +was, another, somewhat like a spider, but with dozens of legs. A third +was half-man, half alligator; a fourth was all snake, but with three +human heads; and another was all head without body. They were, the two +men realized, the most terrible _things_ they had ever imagined. + +"... And there is the rub," the voice went on. "We are all as you have +imagined us. We exist only in your imagination." + +"But how can that be?" Harry Zmilch asked. "We are here. We can see +you...." + +"Only because your imaginations have been developed to such a degree," +the voice replied. "Were you able to you would imagine us as something +altogether different. But since there are limits to your imagination +we are as we are. Now you must pay the penalty of that imagination. + +"Torture will be the price we will exact from you...." + +In an instant they were transported to the torture chamber. They saw +the horrible machines, the Copper Conker, the Pallid Pulley, and the +rest. And up on the platform they saw Sally Patica in all her glory, +her seven pairs of eyes watering so great was her excitement. + +The monsters got in each other's way so hurried were they to tie and +make fast the two humans to the torture machines. And despite Harry's +and Jack's screams, they were bound, hand and foot and placed on each +of the machines in turn. But though the machines whirled and clanked +and ground and grunted and snarled their vicious ways the two humans +could not feel a single thing. Yet all about them the horrible +monsters screamed and shouted and laughed and danced and on the +platform Sally Patica shrieked with joy. + +"A torture party at last," she screamed. "Oh, Hiah-Leugh, I'm so +happy. I'm the happiest monster in the whole world." + +But down below, on the last of the machines in the assembly line, +Harry Zmilch thought as he was being whirled around, his head always +meeting a mace-like thing which was supposed to shear a slice from his +head at every turn but which felt like a feather, gosh! If I get back +alive what a story I could do on B. E. M's. + +While on another instrument of torture, the Pallid Pulley, a device +supposed to tear the limbs slowly from a man, Jack Gangreneyellow +thought, man! what a cover I could make if ever I get out of this. + +A strange thing happened then. + +The machines stopped their whirring, the monsters stopped their +shriekings, and Jack and Harry stopped moving. + +"Ohh, you nasty humans," Hiah-Leugh said. "Now you've spoiled our +party!" + +"Why?" Harry asked. + +"Because all this has been in vain. All you can see is that we're +monsters. And as such we have no feelings except for the giving of +pain, torture and death. Gosh, fellas! Can't you see these things +aren't real? We're the nicest monsters." + +But all Harry and Jack could think of was that B. E. M's. were real. +Further, they were as terrible as anything they had ever imagined. + +"Yes," Hiah-Leugh went on. "We are as you have imagined because we +live only in your imagination. And there we live as monsters. If in +the beginning you had given us other lines to read and other lives to +live, things might be as they really are. But no. The human race had +to be the master race. The insect world and the animal world could +only provide danger and conflict." He turned to the assembled monsters +and said, sadly, "Okay, boys. Turn 'em loose. Let them go back to +their typewriters and drawing boards...." + + * * * * * + +Harry Zmilch shook his head savagely and looked at his friend. He was +doing the same. + +"Got dizzy for a second," Harry said. "Gees! Have I got a swell ending +for my story...." + +"Funny," Jack said. "I got dizzy too. And have I got a sweet idea for +a monster. All detail...." + +Harry went back and typed: + +'But Tom Brighteyes was no longer listening to the voice of his +beloved. Behind him were the advance guards of Hogo the Mogo. And +ahead the dreaded swamp. There was but one thing to do, go into the +sixth dimension, the fifth was already too perilous. Drawing the girl +within the embrace of his brawny arms, he closed his eyes and sent out +the powerful thought waves which would send him into the sixth +dimension....' + +And at the end, he tacked on: + +To be continued next month.... + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Death of a B.E.M., by Berkeley Livingston + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH OF A B.E.M. *** + +***** This file should be named 32726.txt or 32726.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/7/2/32726/ + +Produced by 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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