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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d61ddd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51736 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51736) diff --git a/old/51736-h.zip b/old/51736-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4e48bd1..0000000 --- a/old/51736-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51736-h/51736-h.htm b/old/51736-h/51736-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 282d86b..0000000 --- a/old/51736-h/51736-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1433 +0,0 @@ -<!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=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Star-crossed Lover, by William W. Stuart. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Star-Crossed Lover, by William W. Stuart - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Star-Crossed Lover - -Author: William W. Stuart - -Release Date: April 12, 2016 [EBook #51736] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR-CROSSED LOVER *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>Star-Crossed Lover</h1> - -<p>By WILLIAM W. STUART</p> - -<p>Illustrated by RITTER</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Magazine April 1962.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>She was a wonderful wife—sweet, pretty,<br /> -loving—but she would keep littering up<br /> -the house with her old, used-up bodies!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">I</p> - -<p>So help me, I'm not really a fiend, a monstrous murderer or a -Bluebeard. I am not, truly, even a mad scientist bucking for a billing -to top Frankenstein's. My knowledge of science ends with the Sunday -magazine section of the paper. As for the bodies of all those women the -front pages claim I butchered and buried somewhat carelessly out by the -garage, all that is just—well, just an illusion of sorts.</p> - -<p>Equally illusory, I am hoping, is my reservation for a sure seat, next -performance, in the electric chair which now seems so certain after the -merest formality of a trial.</p> - -<p>Actually I am, or was, nothing but a very normal, average—upper middle -average, that is—sort of a guy. I have always been friendly, sociable, -kindly, lovable to a fault. So how did lovable, kindly old I happen to -get into such a bloody mess?</p> - -<p>I simply helped a little old lady cross the street. That's all.</p> - -<p>All right, I admit I was old for Boy Scout work. But the poor old bat -did look mighty confused and baffled, standing there on the corner of -York and Grand Avenue, looking vaguely around.</p> - -<p>So, "What the hell," I said to myself; and, to her, "Can I help you, -Madam?" I had to cross the street anyway. Traffic being what it was, I -figured I'd feel a little safer with her for company. It was silly, of -course, to think that a poor old lady on my arm would ever inhibit the -Grand Avenue throughway traffic but I tried it. Good job I did, too.</p> - -<p>It was an early fall afternoon, a bit before rush hour. I had knocked -off work early. It was too nice a day for work and besides the managing -editor had fired me again. I had nothing better to do, so I thought I'd -wander over to Maxim's for a drink or two. Then, on the corner, I found -the old lady.</p> - -<p>She was a pretty sad-looking old lady. Matter of fact she was—just -standing there, not even trying—the worst-looking old lady I ever -saw. She looked, to put it kindly, like a three-day corpse that had -made it the hard way after a century of poor health. First I thought, -hell, I'll give the old bag of misery a boost, shove her under a bus or -something. It would be the decent, kindly thing to do.</p> - -<p>I spoke, tentatively. She half-turned and looked up at me from her -witch's crouch. The eyes in the beak-nosed, ravaged ruin of a face were -big, luminous, a glowing green. They clearly belonged elsewhere and -there was a lost, appealing look in them. There was a demand there, -too.</p> - -<p>"I—uh—that is, would you care to cross with me, Madam?" I asked her.</p> - -<p>She took my arm. There was a moment's lull in the wake of a screaming -prowl car. I muttered a word of prayer and we were off the curb. The -old hag was surprisingly quick. It looked as though we were going to -make it. Then, three-quarters across, I came down with a rubber heel in -an oil slick just as a roaring, grinding cement-mixer truck was coming -down on me like an avalanche. My feet went up. I gave the old witch a -shove clear and shut my eyes for fear the coming sight of smeared blood -and guts—my own—would make me sick.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And then, instead of a prone, cringing heap on the pavement sweating -out the ten-to-one odds against all those wheels missing me, I was -airborne. Cable-strong arms caught and lifted me. We were racing down -field, elusive, unstoppable, all the way—touchdown.</p> - -<p>So there we were, safe on the sidewalk. Traffic on the freeway, gaping -at us, was chaos as the frail, doddering little old lady put me down. -Me, I was never any extra large size. But still, a touch under six -feet, maybe a little too friendly with beer and rich desserts—say, -210 pounds—I had considered myself a little big for convenient -carrying about.</p> - -<p>This was something new in little old ladies.</p> - -<p>I stared down at her. She wasn't even breathing hard. In fact I -couldn't tell if she was breathing at all. "Madam," I said, "my sincere -thanks and admiration. I wonder now. If you're not late for practice -with the Bears or something, perhaps we could go someplace and talk?" I -couldn't guess what, but there was for sure some sort of a story here. -If I could get something hot for the Sunday magazine, I'd have my job -back.</p> - -<p>The old crone looked up at me with those oddly out of place, compelling -eyes of hers. "You will listen to me? You will help?"</p> - -<p>"Madam, help you don't need. But listen, yes. This is my great talent. -I will be happy to listen to you."</p> - -<p>I thought a quiet booth and a couple of cold ones in Maxim's would be -nice. No. She wondered in a different, quavering old voice, if greater -privacy might not be better. "What I have to tell you, young man, may -be difficult for you to grasp. It may be necessary to show you some -things."</p> - -<p>"Uh." She wasn't the type of doll I favored taking home for a sociable -evening but it wouldn't have seemed mannerly to say no to the look of -appeal in her eyes. "All right."</p> - -<p>We went on over to the parking lot and I drove her to the very -comfortable home out in Oakdale that Uncle John and Aunt Belle turned -over to me when they rolled off to see the world from their house -trailer a year and a half back. Of course they dropped anchor in -Petersburg and haven't budged since, but I guess it gives them the -footloose feeling they were looking for. And I have the house, which is -quite a pleasant little place.</p> - -<p>I think Aunt Belle figured giving me the house would offset my own -dubious attributes so that some nice girl might just possibly marry and -make something of me. But I kept a picture on my bureau of Uncle John, -standing by the sink in his apron, and was still holding out.</p> - -<p>Well, the old bat didn't clue me in on anything on the drive out there -in my car. We chatted along the way, mostly her asking the questions, -me answering. She was just a visitor to the town, she said. She wanted -to find out all about it—with ten thousand nonsensical questions.</p> - -<p>I parked in the drive and we went in. While she settled down on the -sofa I went to the bar, my addition to the home furnishings, to fix -a drink; wondered if there might still be any tea knocking around; -thought better of that and mixed two drinks. Then I turned back toward -her.</p> - -<p>"Now," I said, "tell me."</p> - -<p>"Well," announced that ravaged wreck of an old woman, "the fact is that -I am from another world."</p> - -<p>"Oh, hell," I said, "how did you come in? By saucer or by broom?" It -was a mean remark, I suppose. Not kindly. Even so, the way she took it -seemed all out of proportion. The old bat's face suddenly went slack. -She slumped over sideways on the sofa, those big, green eyes open, -staring, empty. There was no need to go check for a pulse or heartbeat. -She was plainly, revoltingly dead.</p> - -<p>"Ugh!" I said and tossed off one of the two drinks I was holding. It -seemed the thing to do.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Do not be alarmed," said an apparent voice. "I am really perfectly all -right. I have simply left that poor vehicle I was using. I had thought, -wrongly it now seems, that communication with you chemically powered -life forms might be easier if I too were concealed within one such -structure."</p> - -<p>The voice actually wasn't so much a voice as a voice impression. It -came from a point in the air above the body on the sofa. And it did -make an impression. It came through in a rush of meanings, too loud -somehow, almost overpowering.</p> - -<p>I looked toward the point of origin. That's what it was, as near -as anything, a tiny pin-point of intense, green-gold light. It was -too intense; I had to turn my eyes away. My head started to ache. I -felt and knew that, whatever species this might be, my visitor was a -female of it. She was, at the moment, horribly overbearing. She was -communicating effectively, enthusiastically, but unclearly and it -wasn't easy. Not on me, anyway. My mind was swamped with a mass of -concepts, jabber and ideas, like all the women's clubs of the world -talking at once.</p> - -<p>I groaned and staggered back against the bar. "All right," I yelled, -"all right, I believe you. You come from another world. You are an -amazing, wonderful girl and I am proud to entertain you. But please—go -back to being an old woman, or something I can handle."</p> - -<p>The ravaged old crone's eyes glowed again. She blinked and sat up. -"Please don't shout so. I can hear you," she remarked primly.</p> - -<p>I drained the other drink and put both glasses back on the bar. "Ugh. -Uh, that's better. But who—where—what—?"</p> - -<p>"Please do stop and think a minute," the old witch told me. "If you -will simply use that electro-chemical mental equipment of yours, you -will find that I have already given you the answers to those questions -about who and what I am and where I come from."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense." But then it came to me that she had. I just hadn't taken -time to sort any of it out.</p> - -<p>I tried sorting. Much of it remained fuzzy, I suppose because some -aspects were so far outside the range of anything known to me. She -was, the way I got it, a life form based on something approximating -atomic energy. She came from a dwarf star out someplace, I couldn't -quite place it, out Orion way I think. Sure, the entire concept was -beyond me and completely alien. And yet, oddly, in a lot of ways it -was like old home week. This was a kind of life totally different from -ours in all structure and development; and yet their kind of thought, -their relationship to their world and their social organization, seemed -weirdly familiar. They had work, recreation, social organization. They -reproduced by some sort of polarity business I didn't get then and -still don't; but it required mating and it certainly seemed a fair -approximation of sex.</p> - -<p>They had arts based on forms and shaped patterns of energy. I don't -get it. She said it compared to our literature, music and painting -and I take her word for it. "Only," as she later explained a touch -wistfully, "terribly, terribly decadent in the present era."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was their problem. Their social structure and individuals alike -seemed, at last, to be losing all vitality. The birth rate dropped. -Culture declined. They had, fairly recently by their standards, -discovered the possibility of freeing themselves from their sun and -travelling through space. But, while they found planets with chemical -life forms like us not uncommon in space, they had found no form -comparable to their own. Outside contacts, they had thought, might -stimulate and re-vitalize their society. But, of course, where there is -life there is politics. They had developed many and bitter differences -of opinion regarding the feasibility or value of any attempt to -communicate with chemical life forms. There was a party for, a party -against and several favoring an agonizing reappraisal of the position -whatever it might turn out to be. Nothing was done. And that, in due -course, had brought me my lone lady visitor.</p> - -<p>The "communication" party decided to take action in spite of the -absence of official sanction. They worked cautiously, in secret. -Specially selected representatives with certain exceptional kinds and -degrees of sensitivity were made ready. Necessary energy supplies for -distant space travel were carefully hoarded. Chances of anything coming -of it were considered slim but ... there was the horrible old hag -sitting on my sofa, looking hopefully up at me out of great, youthfully -glowing green eyes.</p> - -<p>Anyway, that's the way the thing shaped up in my mind. And it seemed -plenty hard to believe.</p> - -<p>"Must I come out and show you again?"</p> - -<p>"No," I said quickly. "Oh, no, please don't. I'm convinced."</p> - -<p>"Or will be," she remarked cryptically. "Good. This now proves that -at least one level of communication between us is possible. This is -promising. It could mark the beginning of a relationship which may be -most stimulating for both life forms."</p> - -<p>Well, it was startling at least, I would have to admit that. "Speaking -of forms," I said, "You sure picked an ugly one there. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Oh? But I am only now beginning to understand your standards of -attraction. I took this structure—" she pointed one gnarled, knotty -hand at herself—"because in my own form no one seemed willing to -listen or accept me logically. They only yelled that I was an A-bomb -or a short circuit or lightning, or else simply pretended they didn't -see me at all. So I took this body, making only a few small internal -repairs and improvements. But then, until you came along, no one would -stop long enough to listen to me."</p> - -<p>"Hum. Where'd you get it?"</p> - -<p>"I picked it up at one of your places for them to die. What you -call the cold room at the County Hospital. There was, I admit, some -confusion."</p> - -<p>That I could believe.</p> - -<p>"You are not nearly as different from us in mental processes and -customs as I should have thought. Such an intriguing life form, with -such amusing complications. Just strange enough to be exciting. Come -over here and sit by me."</p> - -<p>She beckoned coyly, like a flirtatious girl, and winked one youthfully -glowing eye at me. The effect, in that ruin of a face, was appalling. I -stayed where I was.</p> - -<p>"Oh," she said in a hurt tone, "you don't like me? And you seemed so -attractively receptive at first. How can we communicate completely -on your plane if you are to be so aloof?" She stopped and seemed to -concentrate a moment. I felt as if something gave my thoughts a brisk -stirring with a long swizzle stick.</p> - -<p>"Damn it," I snapped, "quit that, you hear me? You've got to stop -messing around in my mind. It's an outrageous invasion of—"</p> - -<p>"All right, all right," she said. "I won't do it again, I promise. -Unless—well, never mind." A typically feminine-type promise. "But now -I see that it is simply this body that offends you. Except for this, -you are quite ready to love me."</p> - -<p>That was putting it a little strongly. I had to admit though, that she -was a pretty interesting proposition.</p> - -<p>"It is odd to attach such importance to form. A chemical life -characteristic, I suppose. I do note that your own structure has -its—well. There is no reason for this present form of mine being a -problem between us. I shall simply change it."</p> - -<p>"Oh?" Like changing a dress, she made it sound. It wasn't quite that -easy.</p> - -<p>"You must make it clear to me what sort of body you prefer. Oh, I see. -That tall, widely curved one with the red hair. Yes, I see the -image ... my ... and so lightly clad. Very well. I will have this body -for you."</p> - -<p>She was reading my mind again, the back corner section where I was -keeping a few brightly descriptive memos on Venus de Lite, that -luscious, languorous, long-legged new stripper-exotic dancer downtown -at the Roma. "That," I told her, not without a touch of wistful regret, -"is a live body. You cannot take live bodies. And stop reading my mind."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry. I won't do it again." She kept saying that; and doing it -just the same. "I shall not have to take the original body. I can -simply duplicate it."</p> - -<p>"How could you do that?"</p> - -<p>"It should not be difficult. The elements in the structure are common -enough here and in readily modified forms. The body organization -is complex, true, and not particularly efficient in many respects. -However, the patterns can be readily traced and duplicated. It is a -simple question of the application of energy to chemical matter. So now -you must take me to observe this body which has such attraction for -you."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">II</p> - -<p>That as it turned out, was the toughest part. I did what I could, -trying to fix the horrible old witch up in an outfit from one of Aunt -Belle's old trunks and a few rather elementary cosmetics. The end -result was that, instead of looking like a plain old witch, she seemed -a scandalously depraved, probably drunken old witch. The Roma, in a -long history dating back to prohibition days, has seen all kinds and -conditions. But I don't doubt we were one of the damnedest looking -couples on record.</p> - -<p>"This—uh—this is my Grandma," I told the few, nastily grinning -acquaintances I couldn't duck on our way into the joint. "Grandma is -just up on a little visit from Lower Dogpatch. Excuse us, would you? -Grandma needs a double shot quick."</p> - -<p>That seemed unarguable. We finally settled at a small table off by the -swinging doors to the kitchen and sat there through one floor show. -"All right," said my old witch, as Venus closed the set with her final -frenzy in the blue spotlight, "I have the pattern. There are a number -of differences there from the picture in your mind. The age, the -chemicals applied."</p> - -<p>Venus went off to vigorous applause. The club lights came up and the -M.C. stumbled out to favor us with his version of The Gent's Room -Joe Miller. I considered. The more beautiful-looking the doll, I -suppose, the greater the probable degree of illusion. "Where you find -discrepancies," I told my old witch, "be guided by my imagination. -Right?"</p> - -<p>"All rightie," she remarked brightly, patting my hand on the table as -she favored me with what I would estimate as one of history's lewdest -winks. I noted a mutter of contempt from surrounding tables. "Shall I -go ahead? Perhaps you'd better close your eyes," she said, "I—"</p> - -<p>"No, not here!" I grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. Neighbor -tables gave us their full attention and the muttering took on an -ominous tone. "Come on. For pity's sake, let's get on home." I wasn't -exactly convinced this proposition was going to work out; but a crowded -nightclub was no place for her to try it.</p> - -<p>"Graverobber!" was one of the indignant remarks that caught my ear as I -dragged the harridan out. She giggled. The female, species immaterial, -seems to have a sense of humor ranging from the Pollyanna-like to the -graveyard ghoulish—missing nearly every point between.</p> - -<p>She was quiet and thoughtful on the ride back home. So was I, pondering -the doubtful status of my reputation around town and my sanity.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the house, she was brisk and businesslike. She got me to help her -stack a bunch of canned goods and junk from the refrigerator on the -kitchen table—"Just for convenience." She remarked domestically, "It -would have saved your fuel and power if I had made the change at the -other place. I must draw heavily on the power that runs into this -house. I must, you understand, conserve my own supply."</p> - -<p>"Perfectly all right. Be my guest." The whole thing had a sort of dream -quality to it by then. You know how it is in dreams sometimes? The -action and story lines are fantastic. You know the whole thing must be -nonsense. You could, by an effort of will, wake up and end it. And yet -you go along with the thing just to see how the foolishness will turn -out. That is the way I felt then.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, one more detail," said my witch. "What about the eyes? I found -nothing about the color of the eyes in your largely imaginary mental -picture of the cheap floozy in that second-rate saloon."</p> - -<p>Already she was not only speaking the language but thinking the -thoughts like a native female. The eyes. Hmm. I guess my mental film -strips of Venus had kind of skipped past facial close-ups. "Why don't -you just keep the same eyes you have now?" I suggested.</p> - -<p>"Good," she said. "They are my own design. Here goes. Close your eyes; -there may be some glare."</p> - -<p>I closed my eyes. For a moment there was nothing. Then, for about a -second, say, there was an intense, flaring glare that shone reddish -through my closed lids. Then it was dark.</p> - -<p>"All righty," said a sweet-soft voice, ending in a little, -half-breathless giggle. "Now you can look."</p> - -<p>I looked.</p> - -<p>Trouble was, it was still dark. No lights. All I could see by the faint -light of a half moon filtering in the kitchen window was a dim figure -standing by the table.</p> - -<p>Fact was, I found later, a sudden power surge on the main line outside -the house blew a transformer and blacked out the whole blinking suburb.</p> - -<p>I snapped out my lighter and flicked it on. Well now, indeed! There, -half shy, half not so shy and wearing the same negligible costume as in -her final number at the Roma, was Venus, constructed just exactly the -way she should have been.</p> - -<p>"The way I built me," she said, and giggled, "to your very explicit -order. So now what are you going to—"</p> - -<p>I wouldn't say that I am notably more impetuous than the next man. -That was just an impetuous situation. I let the lighter go and grabbed -her. "Ah," I remember her saying softly, "now we can truly begin to -communicate."</p> - -<p>I can say with every reasonable assurance that we did so most -effectively. Alien she was, but she was also a lovely girl, my own -dream girl. Or girls. What man of any imagination at all is a totally -monogamous dreamer? Anyway, she was unarguably lovely, loving, uniquely -adaptable, generally sweet. And if, once her frequently unfathomable -mind was made up, she had the determination of seven dedicated -devils—well, she was female and probably no worse than some billion -local girls. My little atom-powered space girl had a lot more built-in -compensating factors.</p> - -<p>But that's as it developed. That night, naturally, was largely devoted -to communication. Luckily, having been fired, I didn't need to worry -about getting up to go to work.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Along about eleven or so the next morning she bounced out of bed, -bright, beautiful and lively. I dragged on down to the kitchen with her -to see if we could put together a breakfast from whatever staples she -hadn't found it necessary to incorporate into new construction. By the -kitchen table I stumbled over the most ravaged, deadest looking corpse -I ever hope to see. It was, of course, the unlamented body of the -original witch, lying just where it had dropped the evening before.</p> - -<p>"Look, hon, what about this?"</p> - -<p>She shrugged quite charmingly, in spite of the tentlike dimensions of -Aunt Belle's nightgown. "What about it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, why didn't you use the—uh—material there, instead of all the -groceries?"</p> - -<p>Another shrug. "I wanted something fresh."</p> - -<p>She had a point. I couldn't argue. I never could, when she turned those -big green eyes of hers on me, full power. "Yeah," I said. "Only what -are we going to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"What do your kind do with old bodies here?"</p> - -<p>"Mostly we bury them."</p> - -<p>"All right then."</p> - -<p>That was unassailable feminine logic. All right. So I'd bury it.</p> - -<p>That night, by the eerie light of the waning moon, I went at it with -Uncle John's pick and shovel and buried the old witch's body next to -Aunt Belle's rose bushes by the garage. My bright, new-incarnation -girl lounged around and chatted sociably. Everything still had quite a -dreamlike quality; the corpse was a final, nightmare touch. But even -so, I was beginning to wonder a bit about things; such things as, -specifically, where we went from there.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="360" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Star-doll-baby—" well, hell, there are times when a man has to use -terms like that to communicate with the female—"you aren't going to -vanish all of a sudden and leave me now, are you? Ugh!" That was a -heavy shovel and thick clay. "What are our plans?"</p> - -<p>"Sil-ly. I understand your custom now. We are going to be married, -of course. Then we shall see. There is no hurry. I have, by your -standards, plenty of time. I must assimilate and learn to understand -you and your fascinating life-form. We shall live together and be man -and wife. As I have said, your species and mine may derive much benefit -from this intermingling."</p> - -<p>That, if I understood her correctly, sounded fine to me. It was -the best proposal I'd had yet. And surely it would have been poor -hospitality to a lonely little girl some light-years away from home -for me to have refused. "This is terribly sudden," I told her. "Uf! -That ought to be enough of a hole for as wizened up a little old body -as that ... yes, darling, I will marry you. Who's going to earn us a -living?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">III</p> - -<p>I climbed out of the hole and kissed her and, in time, we did manage to -get the old woman buried.</p> - -<p>The next day we applied for our license. Three days later we were -married—so far as I know, an interstellar first. The job or money -problem, as it turned out, was no problem. Her first thought was the -direct, female approach to the problem. She could simply make it out of -old newspapers whenever we needed some, as she had the body. She made -some to show me.</p> - -<p>"Well now," I told her, "it does seem the simplest way, I admit. But -the government is pretty jealous of its ability to print money. It -likes to think that nobody else can do the job just right."</p> - -<p>I was afraid this might be one of her stubborn points but it wasn't. -Government restrictions, bureaucracy and red tape were things she had -no trouble understanding. "It is the same way back home with power and -energy rations," she told me. "You have no idea the difficulty we had -in building up the capital supply necessary for my trip here. So I -suppose we must find another way. Don't you already have some of this -money? Or couldn't you manage to borrow some?"</p> - -<p>I had $37.62 in my checking account, but the house was in my name. I -borrowed five grand. I invested. I was probably the most successful -investor since old King Midas developed his touch. If I sank a buck -in land, oil would turn up within the week, and if it turned out to be -a geologically inexplicable tiny pocket the next week—that would be -after I had unloaded. Stocks, commodities, it made no difference. The -money rolled in. We had the touch. Paid our taxes, too, but she had -a way with tax loopholes that gave the district collector a nervous -breakdown.</p> - -<p>We traveled, but we kept the old house. We always came back to it for -sentimental reasons. We spent a lot of time in libraries, museums. We -went to shows and concerts. Anything that was going, we went to it. She -had a contagious interest that she communicated to—not to say forced -on—me; and if some of the operas and symphonies we caught seemed to -my elemental musical taste to run a little long and loud, I had my -compensations. And a lot more than most; our adjustments were not all -one-sided.</p> - -<p>Example: We made a tour of Europe. Now, I always was a fine, -loving husband to her. Completely faithful. But—well, there was a -dark-haired, laughing, button-cute little chick who sang Spanish songs -in English with an Italian accent in a little place on the Riviera. I -didn't make a pass. I didn't even speak to her. But I have to admit -that, as a strictly idle fancy, she did cross my mind once or twice.</p> - -<p>"Hah!" my tall, statuesque, beautiful red-haired wife snorted at me one -evening after we were back home. She was sitting listening to hi-fi, -some of the very long-hair music that she called "the second most -fascinating development of your kind." I was just sitting, maybe dozing -a bit.</p> - -<p>"So!" She gave it full-force, wifely indignation. "You sit there and -you smile on me—and all the time you are thinking of this cheap, -female, singing bullfighter you have seen two times. You have two times -me in your mind!"</p> - -<p>Already she was talking with just the accent that chick had used.</p> - -<p>"Now look here," I protested, "you promised not to go prowling through -my mind. A man is entitled to a little privacy!"</p> - -<p>"How can you think so of this other woman? You don't—" sob—"love me -any more!"</p> - -<p>Women! That's the way trying to argue with them goes. You are always on -the defensive.</p> - -<p>"Aw now, Star-hon-baby," I said, "honestly, it was just a passing -thought. I only—"</p> - -<p>"I know what sort of thought it was! Very well." She got up and stalked -off to the kitchen. I didn't get what she was up to, not even when I -heard her banging temperishly about out there.</p> - -<p>When there was a sudden flash and the lights blinked out, the idea hit -me. I was scared. What if she had gone back, left me? I dashed to the -kitchen. Just through the swinging door, I tripped over a body and fell -into the kitchen table. Had she—? Then I heard a charming, slightly -accented little giggle.</p> - -<p>I didn't bother with my lighter. I reached out, caught her, pulled -my sweet little dark-haired baby to me and kissed her. "Honey-doll, -believe me—I do love you. No matter who you are, I love you!"</p> - -<p>I meant every word of it, too. That was a brand of accommodation you -will never get from any local girl.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next night I had to dig a new grave out by the garage—a bigger -one this time, for a big, beautiful, long-legged, red-haired body. -Funny thing. Contrary to general belief, none of this ever seemed to do -anything for the roses by the garage. They had done poorly ever since -Aunt Belle left and they kept on doing poorly. Well, no matter. Six -months later it was the little brunette's turn to go and we went back -to red hair. When I say my wife was all women to me, I mean it.</p> - -<p>The last model was medium height, Titian shade hair, not spectacular -but cute, very companionable, very lovable, beautifully built, built -to last. She was some builder, my wife, and she did a lot of fine -construction work for me.</p> - -<p>One night, back along about the third week of our marriage, I got to -feeling lousy—sniffles, headache, no appetite.</p> - -<p>It was no dramatic plague; just a typical, nasty case of flu. I used to -get them every fall and winter. I mixed myself a couple of hot lemon -and's, and explained it to my (tall, red headed) wife. "Oh, yes," she -said. "I see."</p> - -<p>I had an idea she took another quick prowl through my mind but I felt -too sick to complain. "I'm going to bed," I told her. I went.</p> - -<p>Oddly enough, instead of putting in a restless night, I slept like a -log. When I woke up the next morning, I felt great. In fact, as I burst -into a spontaneous and very tuneful chorus of <i>Body and Soul</i> in the -shower, it came to me that I had never in my life felt so well. When -I looked in the mirror to shave, it seemed to me I was even looking -better.</p> - -<p>Later that day I was up on the roof putting up a TV aerial. I hadn't -ever bothered with TV, but she wanted to learn all about even that. I -put up the aerial. Then I fell off the roof. I dropped twelve feet, -landing on my left arm and shoulder on hard-packed lawn. Then I got up -and dusted myself off. No damage. I was all right.</p> - -<p>"Clumsy," she said to me from the porch.</p> - -<p>"No," I said. "Damn it, there was this loose shingle up there. It -slipped right out from under me and—anyway, you might at least be a -little sympathetic. It's a wonder I didn't break my arm. In fact, I -can't understand why I didn't."</p> - -<p>"Nothing broke because of the improvements I made in you last night."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Darling," she said, "I made a few improvements. Of course, you were -very attractive, lover. Perfectly charming. But structurally, really, -you were a most imperfect mechanism. So now that I have made a study of -these bodies your people use, I ... rebuilt you."</p> - -<p>"Oh? Oh! Now, look here! Who in hell said you could?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It did, at the time, seem pretty damned officious. I was sore. However, -I had to admit that the changes she made worked out rather well. A -strong, light metallic alloy seems to make much better bones than -can be made of calcium. General immunity to disease was desirable, -I couldn't deny. My re-wired nervous system and modified muscular -structure were as pleasant to work with as they were efficient. I was a -new man.</p> - -<p>Of course, every woman always wants to make a finer specimen of -whatever slob she marries. Only I had the luck to get the one who knew -how to do the job properly—from the inside out, rather than by simply -peck, peck, pecking away at the outside.</p> - -<p>It was all as near perfect as a marriage can be. I have no complaints -now—and very few even then. She had built me to last a couple of -centuries. I was ready and willing to string along with her all the way.</p> - -<p>But it never does work out that way, does it?</p> - -<p>What happened to us, as it does to most, was that at the end of the -third year she got pregnant. A very ordinary female trait, you may say, -and not ordinarily surprising. No. Except that she was no ordinary -female.</p> - -<p>We were in bed one night—our last night as it turned out—when she -told me.</p> - -<p>"Darling," she said, and kissed me. "I have something to tell you."</p> - -<p>"Haw?" I was sort of sleepy.</p> - -<p>"I've been hoping and hoping it would happen, but I wasn't sure it -could."</p> - -<p>"Ha? Whatsat?"</p> - -<p>"Darling, we—are going to become parents."</p> - -<p>"What?" I was awake then. "We're going to have a baby? Why, that's -great. Wonderful! Do you think he'll take after me?" As I thought it -over, it seemed something of a problem. What would the heredity be? In -fact, <i>how</i> could it be?</p> - -<p>"Never mind, darling," she said quietly—sadly, I like to think, as I -look back on it. "That's woman's work, you know. Just leave the details -to me."</p> - -<p>I kissed her. We were very loving and tender. I went to sleep, and -dreamed all night long that I was Siamese twins in a fratricidal finish -fight over my model wife.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">IV</p> - -<p>I woke up by daylight to a horrible, icy, lost and separated feeling, -as though part of me had really died. I reached out my hand for -reassurance—and I yelled.</p> - -<p>That sweet, soft-curved body in the bed next to me was cold and dead.</p> - -<p>"Please! don't be frightened. It's all right. Really, it's all -right." That was a voice that wasn't a voice again, as back in the -beginning. It was familiar and at the same time new. It <i>wasn't</i> all -right! I looked up, over the bed. There were not one but two tiny, -blinding-bright pinpoints of light.</p> - -<p>"What? Who?"</p> - -<p>"Father," they said, "we are your children."</p> - -<p>They were certainly not my idea of it.</p> - -<p>"No. Oh, no! Star-baby, where are you?"</p> - -<p>"Here. We were she. Now she plus you has become us. She has divided and -now we are two, the children of you and she."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense. Quit the double talk and give it to me straight!" Double -talk it was. But if it was nonsense, it was an unhappy sort of nonsense -I couldn't get around.</p> - -<p>Coming slightly out of shock, I tried arguing and got nowhere. I never -won any arguments from their mother either. I was convinced in spite -of myself that this was the simple, brutal truth. It was the way of -reproduction of her form of life. My alien wife had divided, to become -two half-alien offspring.</p> - -<p>I felt lousy. I didn't <i>want</i> two bright, pin-point kids. I wanted my -wife. "But look, why couldn't one of you—"</p> - -<p>"Why, father!" I got it in a tone of shocked horror. "Such a thing -would be positively incestuous. No. We must go now. This is what -mother-we came here for—to mix and to re-vitalize her-our people by -the addition of a fresh, new stream of life force."</p> - -<p>"You mean me?" It was flattering to think my stock would invigorate -the population of a sun, but it was no cure for the loneliness in which -I was lost. "You are going back across space—and leave me here alone?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, father. We must leave at once."</p> - -<p>"Oh, now, wait just one radiating little minute! You say I'm your -father. Well, I forbid—"</p> - -<p>Weary patience. "Now, father, please."</p> - -<p>"But—will you come back sometime?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. With the success of her-our mission, we hope the factions -back home will unite in a policy of further interchange. We and others -of our family will come. Soon, we hope. It could even prove possible -to find a way of converting you to our own form, so that later you may -return with us."</p> - -<p>"But look—"</p> - -<p>But that was it. A few more words and, "Goodby, father," they said, -putting a reasonable amount of regret into it—even though I know -damned well they were itching to get going. "And do take care of -yourself."</p> - -<p>They were gone. I was alone. No big, lush and lovely wife; no -button-cute little brunette wife; no gay, lively, companionable, loving -Titian-haired wife. No wife at all.</p> - -<p>I had never been so alone. Nothing but me. What was I to do?</p> - -<p>Well, there was only one possible thing to do, and I did it. I got -drunk. I hung one on. It was a beauty. Sometime in the course of the -following night I held a tearful wake out by the garage and I buried -my wife's last body. That, I recognize, was thoughtless. I could and -should have called doctors and undertakers to tell me there was no life -left in the body, and then let them do the digging for me in a more -formal, costly manner. But, for one thing, I was drunk. For another, I -guess I'd just sort of gotten into the habit of doing it the other way.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Much too early the next day—like about 2:30 in the afternoon—the -doorbell rang. I was totally despondent, nursing my sorrow and a fat -hangover with a cold beer and some of my Star-baby's more heavily -long-hair, hi-fi selections.</p> - -<p>I let the bell ring for a while. Then I let somebody pound on the door -for a bit. But that got to be hard on my headache so I went to the door.</p> - -<p>There was Mrs. Schmerler, from next door, who used to be a real -biddy-buddy of my Aunt Belle's. There were a couple of hard-eyed cops -with her, too. They all pushed right on in.</p> - -<p>"Celebrating something, Mac?" inquired cop number one, while Mrs. -Schmerler and the other glared suspiciously about.</p> - -<p>"No," I said, too miserable to think. "Not celebrating, mourning. Just -lost my wife, and kids, too."</p> - -<p>"He never had any children!" said Mrs. Schmerler. "Only women. And a -great deal too many of the cheap tarts. What his poor, dear Aunt Belle, -as saintly a woman as ever lived, would say.... Why don't you ask him -what he was digging for—digging and yowling <i>Star dust</i>—out there by -his garage last night? And not the first time, neither!"</p> - -<p>The sudden realization of what could be turned up out there by the -garage—and how that would look to the unsympathetic and non-credulous -eyes of the law—hit me. I opened and closed my mouth three or four -times like an unwell goldfish. Nothing came out except a miasma of -alcohol. Mrs. Schmerler gaped at me with delighted shock, indignation -and horror. It was the great moment of her life.</p> - -<p>The cops stepped in—not aggressively, more big-brotherly—and took a -good, firm grip on my arm.</p> - -<p>I won't go into the rest of all that. They got a squad and they dug. -They took me in. I wouldn't talk. They locked me up. Cell block -bookies quoted 50-1, no takers, I would make the death cell. The way -I felt, I didn't care. The newspapers went wild. Things had been -slow since the election. All my old pals from my working days on the -paper were making a buck with special "Even then there was something -frighteningly different about him" feature stories.</p> - -<p>The next day, as my hangover faded and I got to thinking things over, -my outlook changed. It was no time for me to give up. I would get a -lawyer.</p> - -<p>I walked over to rattle my cell door for a bit. "Hey! Hey there, guard. -Come here a minute, huh?"</p> - -<p>He came. "So? Is our Bluebeard softening up? Want to make a statement?"</p> - -<p>"Uh-uh. Not me. I just want to ask a question. Those bodies, are they -going to autopsy them?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet. Today."</p> - -<p>"Well, look—"</p> - -<p>I had a little trouble persuading him, but I got him to take down all -the data I could remember on the first one, the old hag. There would -be records on her at the County Hospital. They'd never make any charge -worse than body-snatching stick on that one.</p> - -<p>The others? I chuckled. I was imagining the medical officers' -expressions when they ran into those stainless-steel bones, plastic -circulatory system, metallic wiring and the assorted other little -innovations that my wife—my <i>late</i> wife—had installed in her -body-building exercises. That would give them something to think about.</p> - -<p>So—that's my story; all of it up to now. I'm still here in my cool -little cell, and I am damned lonesome. But I am not scared. I figure I -have about four different kinds of insurance.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the first place, the way I am built now, with all the improvements -in structure and durability she put into me, I doubt they could -electrocute me. I'd probably just short the equipment out. A thing like -that would make me quite a scientific curiosity, no doubt; but not, at -least, a dead one.</p> - -<p>Second, there are my investments and the way the money has piled up. -You know and I know perfectly well that they just don't ever send a -million bucks plus to any electric chair.</p> - -<p>Besides, third place, while I have no doubt I can be convicted of -something, I don't see how it could be murder. I wouldn't be surprised -to see me get sent to the loony bin. I won't much mind that. I have -nothing to do but wait anyway.</p> - -<p>And, in the fourth place, which is what I am waiting for, there are my -children—hers and mine. They are coming back. Soon, I hope. Not alone, -I hope. "Tell them back there," was the last thing I said before they -left, "tell them I want a girl just like the girl that married your -dear old dad."</p> - -<p>I admit it's a poor thing for a man to have to send his kids to do his -courting for him—but at least mine are pretty exceptional children. -Much better informed than most, too. They should bring me back a new -bride. They've got to.</p> - -<p>Somehow I kind of have a feeling now that a blonde—maybe a tall, -willowy, statuesquely stacked type—might be nice for a while. After -that, I don't know. I'll have to think it over. The waiting is what is -going to be tough.</p> - -<p>Kids aren't really undependable today. Are they?</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star-Crossed Lover, by William W. 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Stuart - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Star-Crossed Lover - -Author: William W. Stuart - -Release Date: April 12, 2016 [EBook #51736] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR-CROSSED LOVER *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Star-Crossed Lover - - By WILLIAM W. STUART - - Illustrated by RITTER - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Magazine April 1962. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - She was a wonderful wife--sweet, pretty, - loving--but she would keep littering up - the house with her old, used-up bodies! - - -I - -So help me, I'm not really a fiend, a monstrous murderer or a -Bluebeard. I am not, truly, even a mad scientist bucking for a billing -to top Frankenstein's. My knowledge of science ends with the Sunday -magazine section of the paper. As for the bodies of all those women the -front pages claim I butchered and buried somewhat carelessly out by the -garage, all that is just--well, just an illusion of sorts. - -Equally illusory, I am hoping, is my reservation for a sure seat, next -performance, in the electric chair which now seems so certain after the -merest formality of a trial. - -Actually I am, or was, nothing but a very normal, average--upper middle -average, that is--sort of a guy. I have always been friendly, sociable, -kindly, lovable to a fault. So how did lovable, kindly old I happen to -get into such a bloody mess? - -I simply helped a little old lady cross the street. That's all. - -All right, I admit I was old for Boy Scout work. But the poor old bat -did look mighty confused and baffled, standing there on the corner of -York and Grand Avenue, looking vaguely around. - -So, "What the hell," I said to myself; and, to her, "Can I help you, -Madam?" I had to cross the street anyway. Traffic being what it was, I -figured I'd feel a little safer with her for company. It was silly, of -course, to think that a poor old lady on my arm would ever inhibit the -Grand Avenue throughway traffic but I tried it. Good job I did, too. - -It was an early fall afternoon, a bit before rush hour. I had knocked -off work early. It was too nice a day for work and besides the managing -editor had fired me again. I had nothing better to do, so I thought I'd -wander over to Maxim's for a drink or two. Then, on the corner, I found -the old lady. - -She was a pretty sad-looking old lady. Matter of fact she was--just -standing there, not even trying--the worst-looking old lady I ever -saw. She looked, to put it kindly, like a three-day corpse that had -made it the hard way after a century of poor health. First I thought, -hell, I'll give the old bag of misery a boost, shove her under a bus or -something. It would be the decent, kindly thing to do. - -I spoke, tentatively. She half-turned and looked up at me from her -witch's crouch. The eyes in the beak-nosed, ravaged ruin of a face were -big, luminous, a glowing green. They clearly belonged elsewhere and -there was a lost, appealing look in them. There was a demand there, -too. - -"I--uh--that is, would you care to cross with me, Madam?" I asked her. - -She took my arm. There was a moment's lull in the wake of a screaming -prowl car. I muttered a word of prayer and we were off the curb. The -old hag was surprisingly quick. It looked as though we were going to -make it. Then, three-quarters across, I came down with a rubber heel in -an oil slick just as a roaring, grinding cement-mixer truck was coming -down on me like an avalanche. My feet went up. I gave the old witch a -shove clear and shut my eyes for fear the coming sight of smeared blood -and guts--my own--would make me sick. - - * * * * * - -And then, instead of a prone, cringing heap on the pavement sweating -out the ten-to-one odds against all those wheels missing me, I was -airborne. Cable-strong arms caught and lifted me. We were racing down -field, elusive, unstoppable, all the way--touchdown. - -So there we were, safe on the sidewalk. Traffic on the freeway, gaping -at us, was chaos as the frail, doddering little old lady put me down. -Me, I was never any extra large size. But still, a touch under six -feet, maybe a little too friendly with beer and rich desserts--say, -210 pounds--I had considered myself a little big for convenient -carrying about. - -This was something new in little old ladies. - -I stared down at her. She wasn't even breathing hard. In fact I -couldn't tell if she was breathing at all. "Madam," I said, "my sincere -thanks and admiration. I wonder now. If you're not late for practice -with the Bears or something, perhaps we could go someplace and talk?" I -couldn't guess what, but there was for sure some sort of a story here. -If I could get something hot for the Sunday magazine, I'd have my job -back. - -The old crone looked up at me with those oddly out of place, compelling -eyes of hers. "You will listen to me? You will help?" - -"Madam, help you don't need. But listen, yes. This is my great talent. -I will be happy to listen to you." - -I thought a quiet booth and a couple of cold ones in Maxim's would be -nice. No. She wondered in a different, quavering old voice, if greater -privacy might not be better. "What I have to tell you, young man, may -be difficult for you to grasp. It may be necessary to show you some -things." - -"Uh." She wasn't the type of doll I favored taking home for a sociable -evening but it wouldn't have seemed mannerly to say no to the look of -appeal in her eyes. "All right." - -We went on over to the parking lot and I drove her to the very -comfortable home out in Oakdale that Uncle John and Aunt Belle turned -over to me when they rolled off to see the world from their house -trailer a year and a half back. Of course they dropped anchor in -Petersburg and haven't budged since, but I guess it gives them the -footloose feeling they were looking for. And I have the house, which is -quite a pleasant little place. - -I think Aunt Belle figured giving me the house would offset my own -dubious attributes so that some nice girl might just possibly marry and -make something of me. But I kept a picture on my bureau of Uncle John, -standing by the sink in his apron, and was still holding out. - -Well, the old bat didn't clue me in on anything on the drive out there -in my car. We chatted along the way, mostly her asking the questions, -me answering. She was just a visitor to the town, she said. She wanted -to find out all about it--with ten thousand nonsensical questions. - -I parked in the drive and we went in. While she settled down on the -sofa I went to the bar, my addition to the home furnishings, to fix -a drink; wondered if there might still be any tea knocking around; -thought better of that and mixed two drinks. Then I turned back toward -her. - -"Now," I said, "tell me." - -"Well," announced that ravaged wreck of an old woman, "the fact is that -I am from another world." - -"Oh, hell," I said, "how did you come in? By saucer or by broom?" It -was a mean remark, I suppose. Not kindly. Even so, the way she took it -seemed all out of proportion. The old bat's face suddenly went slack. -She slumped over sideways on the sofa, those big, green eyes open, -staring, empty. There was no need to go check for a pulse or heartbeat. -She was plainly, revoltingly dead. - -"Ugh!" I said and tossed off one of the two drinks I was holding. It -seemed the thing to do. - - * * * * * - -"Do not be alarmed," said an apparent voice. "I am really perfectly all -right. I have simply left that poor vehicle I was using. I had thought, -wrongly it now seems, that communication with you chemically powered -life forms might be easier if I too were concealed within one such -structure." - -The voice actually wasn't so much a voice as a voice impression. It -came from a point in the air above the body on the sofa. And it did -make an impression. It came through in a rush of meanings, too loud -somehow, almost overpowering. - -I looked toward the point of origin. That's what it was, as near -as anything, a tiny pin-point of intense, green-gold light. It was -too intense; I had to turn my eyes away. My head started to ache. I -felt and knew that, whatever species this might be, my visitor was a -female of it. She was, at the moment, horribly overbearing. She was -communicating effectively, enthusiastically, but unclearly and it -wasn't easy. Not on me, anyway. My mind was swamped with a mass of -concepts, jabber and ideas, like all the women's clubs of the world -talking at once. - -I groaned and staggered back against the bar. "All right," I yelled, -"all right, I believe you. You come from another world. You are an -amazing, wonderful girl and I am proud to entertain you. But please--go -back to being an old woman, or something I can handle." - -The ravaged old crone's eyes glowed again. She blinked and sat up. -"Please don't shout so. I can hear you," she remarked primly. - -I drained the other drink and put both glasses back on the bar. "Ugh. -Uh, that's better. But who--where--what--?" - -"Please do stop and think a minute," the old witch told me. "If you -will simply use that electro-chemical mental equipment of yours, you -will find that I have already given you the answers to those questions -about who and what I am and where I come from." - -"Nonsense." But then it came to me that she had. I just hadn't taken -time to sort any of it out. - -I tried sorting. Much of it remained fuzzy, I suppose because some -aspects were so far outside the range of anything known to me. She -was, the way I got it, a life form based on something approximating -atomic energy. She came from a dwarf star out someplace, I couldn't -quite place it, out Orion way I think. Sure, the entire concept was -beyond me and completely alien. And yet, oddly, in a lot of ways it -was like old home week. This was a kind of life totally different from -ours in all structure and development; and yet their kind of thought, -their relationship to their world and their social organization, seemed -weirdly familiar. They had work, recreation, social organization. They -reproduced by some sort of polarity business I didn't get then and -still don't; but it required mating and it certainly seemed a fair -approximation of sex. - -They had arts based on forms and shaped patterns of energy. I don't -get it. She said it compared to our literature, music and painting -and I take her word for it. "Only," as she later explained a touch -wistfully, "terribly, terribly decadent in the present era." - - * * * * * - -There was their problem. Their social structure and individuals alike -seemed, at last, to be losing all vitality. The birth rate dropped. -Culture declined. They had, fairly recently by their standards, -discovered the possibility of freeing themselves from their sun and -travelling through space. But, while they found planets with chemical -life forms like us not uncommon in space, they had found no form -comparable to their own. Outside contacts, they had thought, might -stimulate and re-vitalize their society. But, of course, where there is -life there is politics. They had developed many and bitter differences -of opinion regarding the feasibility or value of any attempt to -communicate with chemical life forms. There was a party for, a party -against and several favoring an agonizing reappraisal of the position -whatever it might turn out to be. Nothing was done. And that, in due -course, had brought me my lone lady visitor. - -The "communication" party decided to take action in spite of the -absence of official sanction. They worked cautiously, in secret. -Specially selected representatives with certain exceptional kinds and -degrees of sensitivity were made ready. Necessary energy supplies for -distant space travel were carefully hoarded. Chances of anything coming -of it were considered slim but ... there was the horrible old hag -sitting on my sofa, looking hopefully up at me out of great, youthfully -glowing green eyes. - -Anyway, that's the way the thing shaped up in my mind. And it seemed -plenty hard to believe. - -"Must I come out and show you again?" - -"No," I said quickly. "Oh, no, please don't. I'm convinced." - -"Or will be," she remarked cryptically. "Good. This now proves that -at least one level of communication between us is possible. This is -promising. It could mark the beginning of a relationship which may be -most stimulating for both life forms." - -Well, it was startling at least, I would have to admit that. "Speaking -of forms," I said, "You sure picked an ugly one there. Why?" - -"Oh? But I am only now beginning to understand your standards of -attraction. I took this structure--" she pointed one gnarled, knotty -hand at herself--"because in my own form no one seemed willing to -listen or accept me logically. They only yelled that I was an A-bomb -or a short circuit or lightning, or else simply pretended they didn't -see me at all. So I took this body, making only a few small internal -repairs and improvements. But then, until you came along, no one would -stop long enough to listen to me." - -"Hum. Where'd you get it?" - -"I picked it up at one of your places for them to die. What you -call the cold room at the County Hospital. There was, I admit, some -confusion." - -That I could believe. - -"You are not nearly as different from us in mental processes and -customs as I should have thought. Such an intriguing life form, with -such amusing complications. Just strange enough to be exciting. Come -over here and sit by me." - -She beckoned coyly, like a flirtatious girl, and winked one youthfully -glowing eye at me. The effect, in that ruin of a face, was appalling. I -stayed where I was. - -"Oh," she said in a hurt tone, "you don't like me? And you seemed so -attractively receptive at first. How can we communicate completely -on your plane if you are to be so aloof?" She stopped and seemed to -concentrate a moment. I felt as if something gave my thoughts a brisk -stirring with a long swizzle stick. - -"Damn it," I snapped, "quit that, you hear me? You've got to stop -messing around in my mind. It's an outrageous invasion of--" - -"All right, all right," she said. "I won't do it again, I promise. -Unless--well, never mind." A typically feminine-type promise. "But now -I see that it is simply this body that offends you. Except for this, -you are quite ready to love me." - -That was putting it a little strongly. I had to admit though, that she -was a pretty interesting proposition. - -"It is odd to attach such importance to form. A chemical life -characteristic, I suppose. I do note that your own structure has -its--well. There is no reason for this present form of mine being a -problem between us. I shall simply change it." - -"Oh?" Like changing a dress, she made it sound. It wasn't quite that -easy. - -"You must make it clear to me what sort of body you prefer. Oh, I see. -That tall, widely curved one with the red hair. Yes, I see the -image ... my ... and so lightly clad. Very well. I will have this body -for you." - -She was reading my mind again, the back corner section where I was -keeping a few brightly descriptive memos on Venus de Lite, that -luscious, languorous, long-legged new stripper-exotic dancer downtown -at the Roma. "That," I told her, not without a touch of wistful regret, -"is a live body. You cannot take live bodies. And stop reading my mind." - -"I'm sorry. I won't do it again." She kept saying that; and doing it -just the same. "I shall not have to take the original body. I can -simply duplicate it." - -"How could you do that?" - -"It should not be difficult. The elements in the structure are common -enough here and in readily modified forms. The body organization -is complex, true, and not particularly efficient in many respects. -However, the patterns can be readily traced and duplicated. It is a -simple question of the application of energy to chemical matter. So now -you must take me to observe this body which has such attraction for -you." - - -II - -That as it turned out, was the toughest part. I did what I could, -trying to fix the horrible old witch up in an outfit from one of Aunt -Belle's old trunks and a few rather elementary cosmetics. The end -result was that, instead of looking like a plain old witch, she seemed -a scandalously depraved, probably drunken old witch. The Roma, in a -long history dating back to prohibition days, has seen all kinds and -conditions. But I don't doubt we were one of the damnedest looking -couples on record. - -"This--uh--this is my Grandma," I told the few, nastily grinning -acquaintances I couldn't duck on our way into the joint. "Grandma is -just up on a little visit from Lower Dogpatch. Excuse us, would you? -Grandma needs a double shot quick." - -That seemed unarguable. We finally settled at a small table off by the -swinging doors to the kitchen and sat there through one floor show. -"All right," said my old witch, as Venus closed the set with her final -frenzy in the blue spotlight, "I have the pattern. There are a number -of differences there from the picture in your mind. The age, the -chemicals applied." - -Venus went off to vigorous applause. The club lights came up and the -M.C. stumbled out to favor us with his version of The Gent's Room -Joe Miller. I considered. The more beautiful-looking the doll, I -suppose, the greater the probable degree of illusion. "Where you find -discrepancies," I told my old witch, "be guided by my imagination. -Right?" - -"All rightie," she remarked brightly, patting my hand on the table as -she favored me with what I would estimate as one of history's lewdest -winks. I noted a mutter of contempt from surrounding tables. "Shall I -go ahead? Perhaps you'd better close your eyes," she said, "I--" - -"No, not here!" I grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. Neighbor -tables gave us their full attention and the muttering took on an -ominous tone. "Come on. For pity's sake, let's get on home." I wasn't -exactly convinced this proposition was going to work out; but a crowded -nightclub was no place for her to try it. - -"Graverobber!" was one of the indignant remarks that caught my ear as I -dragged the harridan out. She giggled. The female, species immaterial, -seems to have a sense of humor ranging from the Pollyanna-like to the -graveyard ghoulish--missing nearly every point between. - -She was quiet and thoughtful on the ride back home. So was I, pondering -the doubtful status of my reputation around town and my sanity. - - * * * * * - -In the house, she was brisk and businesslike. She got me to help her -stack a bunch of canned goods and junk from the refrigerator on the -kitchen table--"Just for convenience." She remarked domestically, "It -would have saved your fuel and power if I had made the change at the -other place. I must draw heavily on the power that runs into this -house. I must, you understand, conserve my own supply." - -"Perfectly all right. Be my guest." The whole thing had a sort of dream -quality to it by then. You know how it is in dreams sometimes? The -action and story lines are fantastic. You know the whole thing must be -nonsense. You could, by an effort of will, wake up and end it. And yet -you go along with the thing just to see how the foolishness will turn -out. That is the way I felt then. - -"Oh yes, one more detail," said my witch. "What about the eyes? I found -nothing about the color of the eyes in your largely imaginary mental -picture of the cheap floozy in that second-rate saloon." - -Already she was not only speaking the language but thinking the -thoughts like a native female. The eyes. Hmm. I guess my mental film -strips of Venus had kind of skipped past facial close-ups. "Why don't -you just keep the same eyes you have now?" I suggested. - -"Good," she said. "They are my own design. Here goes. Close your eyes; -there may be some glare." - -I closed my eyes. For a moment there was nothing. Then, for about a -second, say, there was an intense, flaring glare that shone reddish -through my closed lids. Then it was dark. - -"All righty," said a sweet-soft voice, ending in a little, -half-breathless giggle. "Now you can look." - -I looked. - -Trouble was, it was still dark. No lights. All I could see by the faint -light of a half moon filtering in the kitchen window was a dim figure -standing by the table. - -Fact was, I found later, a sudden power surge on the main line outside -the house blew a transformer and blacked out the whole blinking suburb. - -I snapped out my lighter and flicked it on. Well now, indeed! There, -half shy, half not so shy and wearing the same negligible costume as in -her final number at the Roma, was Venus, constructed just exactly the -way she should have been. - -"The way I built me," she said, and giggled, "to your very explicit -order. So now what are you going to--" - -I wouldn't say that I am notably more impetuous than the next man. -That was just an impetuous situation. I let the lighter go and grabbed -her. "Ah," I remember her saying softly, "now we can truly begin to -communicate." - -I can say with every reasonable assurance that we did so most -effectively. Alien she was, but she was also a lovely girl, my own -dream girl. Or girls. What man of any imagination at all is a totally -monogamous dreamer? Anyway, she was unarguably lovely, loving, uniquely -adaptable, generally sweet. And if, once her frequently unfathomable -mind was made up, she had the determination of seven dedicated -devils--well, she was female and probably no worse than some billion -local girls. My little atom-powered space girl had a lot more built-in -compensating factors. - -But that's as it developed. That night, naturally, was largely devoted -to communication. Luckily, having been fired, I didn't need to worry -about getting up to go to work. - - * * * * * - -Along about eleven or so the next morning she bounced out of bed, -bright, beautiful and lively. I dragged on down to the kitchen with her -to see if we could put together a breakfast from whatever staples she -hadn't found it necessary to incorporate into new construction. By the -kitchen table I stumbled over the most ravaged, deadest looking corpse -I ever hope to see. It was, of course, the unlamented body of the -original witch, lying just where it had dropped the evening before. - -"Look, hon, what about this?" - -She shrugged quite charmingly, in spite of the tentlike dimensions of -Aunt Belle's nightgown. "What about it?" - -"Well, why didn't you use the--uh--material there, instead of all the -groceries?" - -Another shrug. "I wanted something fresh." - -She had a point. I couldn't argue. I never could, when she turned those -big green eyes of hers on me, full power. "Yeah," I said. "Only what -are we going to do with it?" - -"What do your kind do with old bodies here?" - -"Mostly we bury them." - -"All right then." - -That was unassailable feminine logic. All right. So I'd bury it. - -That night, by the eerie light of the waning moon, I went at it with -Uncle John's pick and shovel and buried the old witch's body next to -Aunt Belle's rose bushes by the garage. My bright, new-incarnation -girl lounged around and chatted sociably. Everything still had quite a -dreamlike quality; the corpse was a final, nightmare touch. But even -so, I was beginning to wonder a bit about things; such things as, -specifically, where we went from there. - -"Star-doll-baby--" well, hell, there are times when a man has to use -terms like that to communicate with the female--"you aren't going to -vanish all of a sudden and leave me now, are you? Ugh!" That was a -heavy shovel and thick clay. "What are our plans?" - -"Sil-ly. I understand your custom now. We are going to be married, -of course. Then we shall see. There is no hurry. I have, by your -standards, plenty of time. I must assimilate and learn to understand -you and your fascinating life-form. We shall live together and be man -and wife. As I have said, your species and mine may derive much benefit -from this intermingling." - -That, if I understood her correctly, sounded fine to me. It was -the best proposal I'd had yet. And surely it would have been poor -hospitality to a lonely little girl some light-years away from home -for me to have refused. "This is terribly sudden," I told her. "Uf! -That ought to be enough of a hole for as wizened up a little old body -as that ... yes, darling, I will marry you. Who's going to earn us a -living?" - - -III - -I climbed out of the hole and kissed her and, in time, we did manage to -get the old woman buried. - -The next day we applied for our license. Three days later we were -married--so far as I know, an interstellar first. The job or money -problem, as it turned out, was no problem. Her first thought was the -direct, female approach to the problem. She could simply make it out of -old newspapers whenever we needed some, as she had the body. She made -some to show me. - -"Well now," I told her, "it does seem the simplest way, I admit. But -the government is pretty jealous of its ability to print money. It -likes to think that nobody else can do the job just right." - -I was afraid this might be one of her stubborn points but it wasn't. -Government restrictions, bureaucracy and red tape were things she had -no trouble understanding. "It is the same way back home with power and -energy rations," she told me. "You have no idea the difficulty we had -in building up the capital supply necessary for my trip here. So I -suppose we must find another way. Don't you already have some of this -money? Or couldn't you manage to borrow some?" - -I had $37.62 in my checking account, but the house was in my name. I -borrowed five grand. I invested. I was probably the most successful -investor since old King Midas developed his touch. If I sank a buck -in land, oil would turn up within the week, and if it turned out to be -a geologically inexplicable tiny pocket the next week--that would be -after I had unloaded. Stocks, commodities, it made no difference. The -money rolled in. We had the touch. Paid our taxes, too, but she had -a way with tax loopholes that gave the district collector a nervous -breakdown. - -We traveled, but we kept the old house. We always came back to it for -sentimental reasons. We spent a lot of time in libraries, museums. We -went to shows and concerts. Anything that was going, we went to it. She -had a contagious interest that she communicated to--not to say forced -on--me; and if some of the operas and symphonies we caught seemed to -my elemental musical taste to run a little long and loud, I had my -compensations. And a lot more than most; our adjustments were not all -one-sided. - -Example: We made a tour of Europe. Now, I always was a fine, -loving husband to her. Completely faithful. But--well, there was a -dark-haired, laughing, button-cute little chick who sang Spanish songs -in English with an Italian accent in a little place on the Riviera. I -didn't make a pass. I didn't even speak to her. But I have to admit -that, as a strictly idle fancy, she did cross my mind once or twice. - -"Hah!" my tall, statuesque, beautiful red-haired wife snorted at me one -evening after we were back home. She was sitting listening to hi-fi, -some of the very long-hair music that she called "the second most -fascinating development of your kind." I was just sitting, maybe dozing -a bit. - -"So!" She gave it full-force, wifely indignation. "You sit there and -you smile on me--and all the time you are thinking of this cheap, -female, singing bullfighter you have seen two times. You have two times -me in your mind!" - -Already she was talking with just the accent that chick had used. - -"Now look here," I protested, "you promised not to go prowling through -my mind. A man is entitled to a little privacy!" - -"How can you think so of this other woman? You don't--" sob--"love me -any more!" - -Women! That's the way trying to argue with them goes. You are always on -the defensive. - -"Aw now, Star-hon-baby," I said, "honestly, it was just a passing -thought. I only--" - -"I know what sort of thought it was! Very well." She got up and stalked -off to the kitchen. I didn't get what she was up to, not even when I -heard her banging temperishly about out there. - -When there was a sudden flash and the lights blinked out, the idea hit -me. I was scared. What if she had gone back, left me? I dashed to the -kitchen. Just through the swinging door, I tripped over a body and fell -into the kitchen table. Had she--? Then I heard a charming, slightly -accented little giggle. - -I didn't bother with my lighter. I reached out, caught her, pulled -my sweet little dark-haired baby to me and kissed her. "Honey-doll, -believe me--I do love you. No matter who you are, I love you!" - -I meant every word of it, too. That was a brand of accommodation you -will never get from any local girl. - - * * * * * - -The next night I had to dig a new grave out by the garage--a bigger -one this time, for a big, beautiful, long-legged, red-haired body. -Funny thing. Contrary to general belief, none of this ever seemed to do -anything for the roses by the garage. They had done poorly ever since -Aunt Belle left and they kept on doing poorly. Well, no matter. Six -months later it was the little brunette's turn to go and we went back -to red hair. When I say my wife was all women to me, I mean it. - -The last model was medium height, Titian shade hair, not spectacular -but cute, very companionable, very lovable, beautifully built, built -to last. She was some builder, my wife, and she did a lot of fine -construction work for me. - -One night, back along about the third week of our marriage, I got to -feeling lousy--sniffles, headache, no appetite. - -It was no dramatic plague; just a typical, nasty case of flu. I used to -get them every fall and winter. I mixed myself a couple of hot lemon -and's, and explained it to my (tall, red headed) wife. "Oh, yes," she -said. "I see." - -I had an idea she took another quick prowl through my mind but I felt -too sick to complain. "I'm going to bed," I told her. I went. - -Oddly enough, instead of putting in a restless night, I slept like a -log. When I woke up the next morning, I felt great. In fact, as I burst -into a spontaneous and very tuneful chorus of _Body and Soul_ in the -shower, it came to me that I had never in my life felt so well. When -I looked in the mirror to shave, it seemed to me I was even looking -better. - -Later that day I was up on the roof putting up a TV aerial. I hadn't -ever bothered with TV, but she wanted to learn all about even that. I -put up the aerial. Then I fell off the roof. I dropped twelve feet, -landing on my left arm and shoulder on hard-packed lawn. Then I got up -and dusted myself off. No damage. I was all right. - -"Clumsy," she said to me from the porch. - -"No," I said. "Damn it, there was this loose shingle up there. It -slipped right out from under me and--anyway, you might at least be a -little sympathetic. It's a wonder I didn't break my arm. In fact, I -can't understand why I didn't." - -"Nothing broke because of the improvements I made in you last night." - -"What?" - -"Darling," she said, "I made a few improvements. Of course, you were -very attractive, lover. Perfectly charming. But structurally, really, -you were a most imperfect mechanism. So now that I have made a study of -these bodies your people use, I ... rebuilt you." - -"Oh? Oh! Now, look here! Who in hell said you could?" - - * * * * * - -It did, at the time, seem pretty damned officious. I was sore. However, -I had to admit that the changes she made worked out rather well. A -strong, light metallic alloy seems to make much better bones than -can be made of calcium. General immunity to disease was desirable, -I couldn't deny. My re-wired nervous system and modified muscular -structure were as pleasant to work with as they were efficient. I was a -new man. - -Of course, every woman always wants to make a finer specimen of -whatever slob she marries. Only I had the luck to get the one who knew -how to do the job properly--from the inside out, rather than by simply -peck, peck, pecking away at the outside. - -It was all as near perfect as a marriage can be. I have no complaints -now--and very few even then. She had built me to last a couple of -centuries. I was ready and willing to string along with her all the way. - -But it never does work out that way, does it? - -What happened to us, as it does to most, was that at the end of the -third year she got pregnant. A very ordinary female trait, you may say, -and not ordinarily surprising. No. Except that she was no ordinary -female. - -We were in bed one night--our last night as it turned out--when she -told me. - -"Darling," she said, and kissed me. "I have something to tell you." - -"Haw?" I was sort of sleepy. - -"I've been hoping and hoping it would happen, but I wasn't sure it -could." - -"Ha? Whatsat?" - -"Darling, we--are going to become parents." - -"What?" I was awake then. "We're going to have a baby? Why, that's -great. Wonderful! Do you think he'll take after me?" As I thought it -over, it seemed something of a problem. What would the heredity be? In -fact, _how_ could it be? - -"Never mind, darling," she said quietly--sadly, I like to think, as I -look back on it. "That's woman's work, you know. Just leave the details -to me." - -I kissed her. We were very loving and tender. I went to sleep, and -dreamed all night long that I was Siamese twins in a fratricidal finish -fight over my model wife. - - -IV - -I woke up by daylight to a horrible, icy, lost and separated feeling, -as though part of me had really died. I reached out my hand for -reassurance--and I yelled. - -That sweet, soft-curved body in the bed next to me was cold and dead. - -"Please! don't be frightened. It's all right. Really, it's all -right." That was a voice that wasn't a voice again, as back in the -beginning. It was familiar and at the same time new. It _wasn't_ all -right! I looked up, over the bed. There were not one but two tiny, -blinding-bright pinpoints of light. - -"What? Who?" - -"Father," they said, "we are your children." - -They were certainly not my idea of it. - -"No. Oh, no! Star-baby, where are you?" - -"Here. We were she. Now she plus you has become us. She has divided and -now we are two, the children of you and she." - -"Nonsense. Quit the double talk and give it to me straight!" Double -talk it was. But if it was nonsense, it was an unhappy sort of nonsense -I couldn't get around. - -Coming slightly out of shock, I tried arguing and got nowhere. I never -won any arguments from their mother either. I was convinced in spite -of myself that this was the simple, brutal truth. It was the way of -reproduction of her form of life. My alien wife had divided, to become -two half-alien offspring. - -I felt lousy. I didn't _want_ two bright, pin-point kids. I wanted my -wife. "But look, why couldn't one of you--" - -"Why, father!" I got it in a tone of shocked horror. "Such a thing -would be positively incestuous. No. We must go now. This is what -mother-we came here for--to mix and to re-vitalize her-our people by -the addition of a fresh, new stream of life force." - -"You mean me?" It was flattering to think my stock would invigorate -the population of a sun, but it was no cure for the loneliness in which -I was lost. "You are going back across space--and leave me here alone?" - -"Yes, father. We must leave at once." - -"Oh, now, wait just one radiating little minute! You say I'm your -father. Well, I forbid--" - -Weary patience. "Now, father, please." - -"But--will you come back sometime?" - -"Certainly. With the success of her-our mission, we hope the factions -back home will unite in a policy of further interchange. We and others -of our family will come. Soon, we hope. It could even prove possible -to find a way of converting you to our own form, so that later you may -return with us." - -"But look--" - -But that was it. A few more words and, "Goodby, father," they said, -putting a reasonable amount of regret into it--even though I know -damned well they were itching to get going. "And do take care of -yourself." - -They were gone. I was alone. No big, lush and lovely wife; no -button-cute little brunette wife; no gay, lively, companionable, loving -Titian-haired wife. No wife at all. - -I had never been so alone. Nothing but me. What was I to do? - -Well, there was only one possible thing to do, and I did it. I got -drunk. I hung one on. It was a beauty. Sometime in the course of the -following night I held a tearful wake out by the garage and I buried -my wife's last body. That, I recognize, was thoughtless. I could and -should have called doctors and undertakers to tell me there was no life -left in the body, and then let them do the digging for me in a more -formal, costly manner. But, for one thing, I was drunk. For another, I -guess I'd just sort of gotten into the habit of doing it the other way. - - * * * * * - -Much too early the next day--like about 2:30 in the afternoon--the -doorbell rang. I was totally despondent, nursing my sorrow and a fat -hangover with a cold beer and some of my Star-baby's more heavily -long-hair, hi-fi selections. - -I let the bell ring for a while. Then I let somebody pound on the door -for a bit. But that got to be hard on my headache so I went to the door. - -There was Mrs. Schmerler, from next door, who used to be a real -biddy-buddy of my Aunt Belle's. There were a couple of hard-eyed cops -with her, too. They all pushed right on in. - -"Celebrating something, Mac?" inquired cop number one, while Mrs. -Schmerler and the other glared suspiciously about. - -"No," I said, too miserable to think. "Not celebrating, mourning. Just -lost my wife, and kids, too." - -"He never had any children!" said Mrs. Schmerler. "Only women. And a -great deal too many of the cheap tarts. What his poor, dear Aunt Belle, -as saintly a woman as ever lived, would say.... Why don't you ask him -what he was digging for--digging and yowling _Star dust_--out there by -his garage last night? And not the first time, neither!" - -The sudden realization of what could be turned up out there by the -garage--and how that would look to the unsympathetic and non-credulous -eyes of the law--hit me. I opened and closed my mouth three or four -times like an unwell goldfish. Nothing came out except a miasma of -alcohol. Mrs. Schmerler gaped at me with delighted shock, indignation -and horror. It was the great moment of her life. - -The cops stepped in--not aggressively, more big-brotherly--and took a -good, firm grip on my arm. - -I won't go into the rest of all that. They got a squad and they dug. -They took me in. I wouldn't talk. They locked me up. Cell block -bookies quoted 50-1, no takers, I would make the death cell. The way -I felt, I didn't care. The newspapers went wild. Things had been -slow since the election. All my old pals from my working days on the -paper were making a buck with special "Even then there was something -frighteningly different about him" feature stories. - -The next day, as my hangover faded and I got to thinking things over, -my outlook changed. It was no time for me to give up. I would get a -lawyer. - -I walked over to rattle my cell door for a bit. "Hey! Hey there, guard. -Come here a minute, huh?" - -He came. "So? Is our Bluebeard softening up? Want to make a statement?" - -"Uh-uh. Not me. I just want to ask a question. Those bodies, are they -going to autopsy them?" - -"Not yet. Today." - -"Well, look--" - -I had a little trouble persuading him, but I got him to take down all -the data I could remember on the first one, the old hag. There would -be records on her at the County Hospital. They'd never make any charge -worse than body-snatching stick on that one. - -The others? I chuckled. I was imagining the medical officers' -expressions when they ran into those stainless-steel bones, plastic -circulatory system, metallic wiring and the assorted other little -innovations that my wife--my _late_ wife--had installed in her -body-building exercises. That would give them something to think about. - -So--that's my story; all of it up to now. I'm still here in my cool -little cell, and I am damned lonesome. But I am not scared. I figure I -have about four different kinds of insurance. - - * * * * * - -In the first place, the way I am built now, with all the improvements -in structure and durability she put into me, I doubt they could -electrocute me. I'd probably just short the equipment out. A thing like -that would make me quite a scientific curiosity, no doubt; but not, at -least, a dead one. - -Second, there are my investments and the way the money has piled up. -You know and I know perfectly well that they just don't ever send a -million bucks plus to any electric chair. - -Besides, third place, while I have no doubt I can be convicted of -something, I don't see how it could be murder. I wouldn't be surprised -to see me get sent to the loony bin. I won't much mind that. I have -nothing to do but wait anyway. - -And, in the fourth place, which is what I am waiting for, there are my -children--hers and mine. They are coming back. Soon, I hope. Not alone, -I hope. "Tell them back there," was the last thing I said before they -left, "tell them I want a girl just like the girl that married your -dear old dad." - -I admit it's a poor thing for a man to have to send his kids to do his -courting for him--but at least mine are pretty exceptional children. -Much better informed than most, too. They should bring me back a new -bride. They've got to. - -Somehow I kind of have a feeling now that a blonde--maybe a tall, -willowy, statuesquely stacked type--might be nice for a while. After -that, I don't know. I'll have to think it over. The waiting is what is -going to be tough. - -Kids aren't really undependable today. Are they? - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star-Crossed Lover, by William W. 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