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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58659 ***
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+Ten miracles were arranged for the age-long flight. But they reckoned
+without----
+
+                          RESURRECTION SEVEN
+
+                          By Stephen Marlowe
+
+[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science
+Fiction, May 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+The seventh tub shook gently, stimulating the hypothalamic region of
+Eric's brain for the first time in almost two centuries. After a time,
+his limbs trembled and his body began to shiver. The liquid in which he
+floated boiled off at a temperature still far below that which would
+permit his body to function.
+
+By the time all the liquid was gone he had uncurled and lay at the
+bottom of the tub. Now his heart pumped three hundred times a minute,
+generating warmth and activating his central nervous system. It took
+many hours for his heart to slow--not back to the one beat every two
+minutes it had known for a hundred-seventy-five years, but to the
+normal rate of about seventy per minute. By then his body temperature
+had climbed from below freezing to 98° F.
+
+Eric lay in stupor for a week, while fluids flowed into the tub and
+massaged his muscles, while fatty tissue slowly turned into strength.
+Finally, he climbed from his tub.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He found the locker which bore his name, and opened it. Six other
+lockers were open and empty, as were six tubs. He found that hard to
+believe. It had seemed only a night of deep and dreamless sleep, no
+more. But each empty tub stood for twenty-five years, each open locker
+meant a man had gone and lived his time with the new generations of the
+ship, perhaps had sired children, had died with old age.
+
+[Illustration: _At intervals of twenty-five years, they would arise to
+police the ship._]
+
+Eric found his clothing on a hook, took it down. Yesterday--he
+laughed mirthlessly when he realized that had been almost two hundred
+years ago--Clair had told him something about a note. He found it in
+the breast pocket of his jumper, stiff and yellow. He read:
+
+    _Darling: I will be ashes in the void between the stars when you
+    read this. That sounds silly, but it's the truth--unless I can give
+    old Methuselah a run for his money; I sadden when I think that you
+    will be gone tomorrow, the same as dead. But if they need ten and
+    if you are one who can withstand suspension--what can we do? Know
+    that my love goes with you across the ages, Eric._
+
+    _I just thought of something. You'll be the seventh of ten, with
+    the last one coming out at planet-fall. If you live to be a real
+    gray-beard, you might even see the landing on the Centaurian planet.
+    I love you._
+
+    _Clair_--
+
+If Clair had married, her great-grandchildren might be alive now. Her
+great-great-grandchildren would be Eric's age. Clair's progeny, not
+Clair--because Clair was dust now, a light year back in space--
+
+He found a package of cigarettes in his jumper, took one out and lit
+it. He must not think of the past, not when it was only history now
+although he still felt very much a part of it. Today mattered, today
+and the new generations on the ship.
+
+It crossed his mind that they might regard him almost as a god, a man
+who had seen Earth, who had slept while generations lived and died,
+who came from his impossible sleep and would live with them now to see
+that everything was going according to plan.
+
+Three minutes after he started the mechanism, the door slid ponderously
+into the wall. It would open more simply from the other side, he knew,
+but then only Eric and the three who still slept could turn its complex
+tumblers. For a long while he stood there on the threshold and then he
+watched the door slide back into place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The corridor glowed with soft white light, which meant it was daytime
+on the ship. Dimly in the distance, Eric heard voices, children at
+play. Would they know of him? Would their parents know? Was he expected?
+
+Eric came closer. Through a doorway he could see the children, three of
+them, although they had not yet seen him. A chubby, freckle-faced boy
+said:
+
+"Let's play Lazarus. I must be the Captain, and you, Janie, you can be
+the crew. George, you be Lazarus."
+
+George was a big ten-year-old with dark hair. "Like heck I will! It was
+your idea, you be Lazarus, smart guy."
+
+Eric stepped through the doorway. "Hello," he said. "Can you take me to
+your folks?"
+
+"Who're you, Mister?"
+
+"Hey, I don't know him! Where'd he come from?"
+
+The girl, Janie, said, "Lookit his clothes. Lookit. They're different."
+
+The children wore loose tunics, pastel-tinted, to their knees.
+Freckle-Face said: "You know what today is, doncha?"
+
+George frowned. "Yeah, holiday. We're off from school."
+
+"What holiday, stupid? Which one?"
+
+"I--I dunno."
+
+"Lazzy-day!" Janie cried. "That's what it is. Then he's--he's--"
+
+"Lazarus!" Freckle-Face told her, and, as if on one impulse, the three
+of them bolted away from Eric, disappeared through another doorway.
+
+He did not follow them. He stood there, waiting, and before long
+he heard footsteps returning. A man entered the room, tall, thin,
+middle-aged.
+
+"You are Eric Taine," he said, smiling. "I'm sorry no one was around to
+greet you, but the way we had it figured, you wouldn't come out till
+later this afternoon. History says that's how it worked with the six
+before you, about four P.M. It's just noon now. Will you follow me,
+please?"
+
+Then the man flushed faintly. "Excuse me, but it isn't often we
+meet strangers. Everyone knows everyone else, of course. My name is
+Lindquist, Mr. Taine. Roger Lindquist."
+
+Eric shook hands with him, stiffly, and he thought for a moment the man
+did not know the gesture. "Ah yes, handshaking," Lindquist laughed.
+"We simply show empty palms now, you know. But then, you don't know. I
+rather imagine you'll have a lot to learn."
+
+Eric nodded, asked Lindquist if he might be shown about the ship.
+There was a lot he had to see, to check, to change if change were
+needed.
+
+"Relax, my friend," Lindquist told him. "I'd--ah, like to suggest that
+we postpone your tour until you've met with our Council this afternoon.
+I'd very much like to suggest that."
+
+Eric shrugged, said: "You know more about this than I do, Mr.
+Lindquist. We'll wait for your Council meeting."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Thus, Mr. Taine," said Captain Larkin, hours later, "tradition has it
+that you become a king. King Lazarus Seven--with six Lazaruses before
+you. The first one, the histories say, was a joke. But it's stuck
+ever since. The people like this idea of a king who comes to them
+every twenty five years--and they've dubbed him with the name Lazarus,
+well, because if he didn't come back from the dead, he came back from
+something a lot like it."
+
+Eric nodded. "What happened to Alan Bridges?"
+
+"Who?" This was Lindquist.
+
+"Alan Bridges, the man before me--your Lazarus Six."
+
+Captain Larkin cleared his throat. "He's dead, Mr. Taine."
+
+"Dead? He'd only be in his fifties now--"
+
+"I know. Sad. It was disease, hit him soon after he came to us. Lazarus
+Six had a very short reign. Didn't he, Mr. Lindquist?"
+
+"He certainly did," Lindquist agreed. "Let's hope that Lazarus Seven is
+here to step down for Eight--and to watch Nine come in, fifty years
+from now!"
+
+Cheers filled the room and Eric smiled briefly. That reminded him of
+Clair's note. Clair--
+
+"So," said Captain Larkin, "you'll be crowned tomorrow. After that,
+your people will see you, King Lazarus Seven on his throne. Don't
+disappoint us, Mr. Taine. Their tradition means a lot to them."
+
+"It should," Eric said. "The planners made it that way. With nothing
+but space outside, and the confining walls of the ship, they needed
+something to bind them together."
+
+"Yes, that's true. But the people, as you'll see, have come up with
+some of their own traditions over the years." Captain Larkin ran a hand
+through his graying hair. "Like your kinghood, for example. You'll see,
+Mr. Taine--or should it be Lazarus now, eh?" He laughed.
+
+"If you'd like," Eric said. He did not relish the idea particularly,
+but then, it was their show. Still, he had everything to check--from
+astrogation to ethics--and he would not want to be delayed by pomp
+and ceremony. Well, there was time enough for that. Now he felt
+weary--and that made him chuckle, because he had just concluded a
+hundred-seventy-five year nap.
+
+They took him to his quarters, where the six before him had lived.
+There he ate in silence, food from the hydroponic gardens on a lower
+level of the ship. The line of light under his door had turned from
+white to a soft blue. It was night on the ship.
+
+Eric showered and got into bed, but although he was tired he could not
+fall asleep. He had expected to be an efficiency expert of sorts;
+that was his job; but they told him, matter-of-factly, that he would
+be a king. Well, you could expect change in nearly two hundred years,
+radical change. And if indeed their tradition were deep-rooted, he
+would not try to change it. The planners had counted on that to keep
+them going, because there could be no environmental challenge to goad
+them. Just an unreal past and an unreal Earth which Eric and their
+great-great-grandparents had seen, and an even more unreal future when,
+someday far far off, the ship reached the Centaurian System.
+
+Softly, someone knocked at his door. The sound had been there for
+many moments, a gentle tapping, but it had not registered on his
+consciousness. Now, when it did, he padded across the bare floor and
+opened the door.
+
+A girl stepped in from the corridor, pushing him before her with one
+hand, motioning him to silence with the other. She closed the door
+softly behind her, soundlessly almost, and turned to face him.
+
+She wore the knee-length tunic popular with this generation, and it
+covered a graceful feminine figure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Please," the girl said. "Please listen to me, Eric Taine. I may have
+only a few moments--listen!"
+
+"Sure," he smiled. "But why all the mystery?"
+
+"Shh! Let me talk. Have you a weapon?"
+
+"Yes, I carry a pistol. I don't fancy I'll need it, though."
+
+"Well, take it with you and go back where you came. If anyone tries to
+stop you, use your weapon. They have nothing like it. Then, when you
+get there--" Her voice came breathlessly, and it made Eric laugh.
+
+"Hold on, Miss. Why should I do that? Don't tell me there's a plot and
+someone wants to usurp the new king before he's crowned? No? What then?"
+
+"Stop making fun of me, Eric Taine. I'm trying to save your life." She
+said it so seriously, her eyes so big and round, that Eric half wanted
+to believe her. But that was fantastic. From what could she possibly be
+saving him?
+
+The words came out in a rush as the girl spoke again. "The ship is
+not on course. For twenty five years it has been off, heading back to
+Earth--"
+
+"To Earth! That's crazy."
+
+"Listen, please. They killed Lazarus Six. He was a scapegoat. They
+watched the old films of Earth and felt they had been cheated out of
+their birthright. Why should they live here, alone in space? they
+said. Why should their children's children face the hardships of a new
+world? They didn't ask for it. It was thrust upon them by the planners,
+by your generation. If they knew how to get into your room of tubs,
+they would have killed you. Now there is a mock ceremony, everything
+is blamed on the new Lazarus, and the people feel better when he is
+killed. I know, my mother told me. You can ask her----"
+
+The girl was about twenty, Eric thought. A wild-eyed thing now, who so
+wanted him to believe her impossible story. Her breath came quickly,
+in little gasps, and Eric tried to hide the smile on his face.
+
+"You're laughing at me! Stupid, stupid--please--And when you get back
+to your room of tubs, awaken your friends, the three who remain.
+You four can control the ship, put it back on course, teach the
+people--Ooo, stop laughing!" She pouted prettily. "All of us, we're not
+all like that. We who are not can help you."
+
+Eric chuckled softly. "You try to picture it," he told her. "I'm sorry,
+but everything's been sweetness and light, and you come in here with a
+wild notion--"
+
+"It isn't wild, it's the truth. Why don't you ask to check our course
+before they make you king?"
+
+He could do that, all right. But they'd be wondering what mad neurosis
+compelled his actions, and he did not want that, not when he might have
+so much to do.
+
+"Check it," she pleaded. And when he shook his head, she told him,
+"You're acting like a child, you know. The records say you are
+twenty-five, and you've slept for seven times that, but still. All you
+have to do is check. Please--"
+
+The door burst in upon them, and Lindquist stood there, with Captain
+Larkin and two others.
+
+Lindquist shook his head sadly. "I thought so," he said.
+
+Captain Larkin nodded. "A Cultist child. Shame, isn't it?"
+
+One of the other men strode forward, and the girl cowered behind Eric.
+"Don't believe them!" she wailed. "Lies--"
+
+"There are so many of them," Lindquist explained. "Apparently, we're
+in an area of high radiation now, Mr. Taine. So many of our people
+are deranged. I won't guess at the cause, except to say it's probably
+outside the ship."
+
+The man came around Eric, tch-tch'd when the girl jumped on the bed and
+stood trembling against the headboard. "Now, Laurie," the man coaxed.
+"Come on down, there's a good girl."
+
+Eric wanted to help her, but he checked the impulse. He only felt
+protective. There could be nothing in the girl's story. Best if they
+took her and treated her.
+
+"... a whole cult of them," Lindquist was saying. "All lacking
+something up here." He tapped his head. "They don't trust anyone, only
+members. Think we're doing all sorts of foolish things. I don't know,
+what would you call it in your day. Paranoia?"
+
+Eric said he didn't know, he was not a psychologist. He watched
+silently with Lindquist and Captain Larkin as the two other men took
+Laurie, struggling, out the door. She kicked, bit, and cried lustily.
+Once her dark eyes caught Eric's gaze, held it, and she whimpered, "I
+don't care if they kill you! I don't care--"
+
+They started down the corridor, after Lindquist said, "You've had a
+hard day. I think we'd better let you sleep."
+
+"She told you someone wanted to kill you?" Captain Larkin said, shaking
+his head slowly. "What can we do, Lindquist?"
+
+"Well, we just better hope whatever's causing this sort of thing is
+left behind in space soon. Goodnight Mr. Taine."
+
+"Goodnight, Lazarus," said Captain Larkin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Eric recognized at once the great hall in which he had danced that last
+night with Clair. Now Clair was gone.
+
+The place was crowded--probably the ship's entire population. Lindquist
+led him through the crowd, and he could not tell what their faces
+showed. There were mumblings of "Lazarus" and "king"--but why did
+he get the faint suggestion of mockery? Oddly, what Laurie said
+had troubled him--he had had a bad night's sleep, and it left him
+irritable. Poor girl. He wondered how many more there were like her.
+Well, in time he could find out, after this nuisance of a coronation
+had become history.
+
+"Ah, Taine," Captain Larkin said as Lindquist brought him to the dais.
+"As you can see, all the people are ready. I hope you won't think the
+ceremony foolish. Are you ready?"
+
+Eric nodded, watched a man raise trumpet to lips, blow one clarion
+note. A hush fell over the hall.
+
+"I am honored to present King Lazarus Seven to you," Larkin proclaimed
+in a loud clear voice. "He has been sent, as you know, by the planners."
+
+Hoots from the crowd. Eric frowned. He had thought they would respect
+the planners, the men whose vision had sent Man--here in this
+ship--outward bound to the stars.
+
+Larkin's voice was honey now. "Don't judge our new king by those who
+sent him. Don't--"
+
+Laughter, and shouts of "Hail, Lazarus!" The people, Eric suddenly
+realized, were almost primitive. Larkin and Lindquist and a handful
+of others ran the ship, had somehow maintained the science of another
+generation. But the lack of conflict, of challenge, had sent the people
+down a rung or two on the ladder of civilization. Handpicked, their
+ancestors had been--but they were a common mob.
+
+Someone cried, "He's seen Earth. Ask him to tell us about Earth!"
+
+"Ask him!"
+
+Captain Larkin smiled. "Tell them, Taine. Tell your new subjects. You
+have so little time."
+
+"What do you mean, so little time?"
+
+"Tell them!" And Larkin turned away, laughing.
+
+They were primitive, these people, and as the girl Laurie had said,
+they needed a scapegoat. They didn't like it here on the ship. There
+had been a first generation which had known Earth and could savor its
+flavor through the long years like a delicate wine. And there would
+be a last which could get out on the Centaurian planet, stretch its
+legs, and build civilization anew. But these in between were in limbo.
+They lived and they died on the ship, and it wasn't their idea. They
+would breed so that the ship would still have a crew when it reached
+Centauri. That was their function. But they didn't like it.
+
+All this went through Eric's mind. Perhaps the girl had no psychosis,
+perhaps her warning had been sincere. He wondered if the long sleep had
+dulled his instincts, his reflexes.
+
+He told them of Earth, of its wonders, of the wide meadows he
+remembered, of the wind, brisk in spring, which brought the
+sweet-scented rain, of summer and the big harvest moon which followed,
+of a hundred other things.
+
+    _Clair! Clair! Did you marry, have children? There was that Lou
+    Somebody who you'd flirt with to make me jealous, but we both knew
+    he loved you. I wonder._
+
+He spoke of the planners, of the proud day when all the world had seen
+them off, the video jets flashing by, circling, to send their pictures
+to the waiting millions.
+
+The planners, he told them, had a vision. It was the same vision which
+had first taken man--an ape with a brain that held curious half-formed
+thoughts that gave him a headache--down from the trees. A vision which
+would carry him one day to the farthest stars and beyond.
+
+They shouted. They stamped on the floor. They laughed.
+
+"What about us? We didn't have any say, did we? Who wants to spend his
+whole life in this tin can?"
+
+"I don't know--" One of them at least was dubious, but the crowd
+stilled him. What of Laurie and her Cult? He did not see the girl
+anywhere in the great hall.
+
+"We've had enough, Captain. Too much, I'd say!"
+
+Larkin looked smug. Lindquist was grinning. No one did anything to stop
+them as the crowd surged forward, threatened.
+
+Watching them, only now beginning to realize the whole thing, Eric
+remembered history. Mock-kinghood was nothing new in the scheme of
+primitive cultures. In ancient Babylonia, in Assyria--elsewhere--the
+mock king ruled for a day and the people came to him with their
+troubles. The king, cowering on his throne-of-a-day could perhaps see
+his executioner waiting. The real king had nothing to lose: the pent up
+dissatisfaction of his people would drown the mock-ruler like a wave,
+and after it was all over the king would return to his throne with more
+power than before.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rough hands reached up, grabbed at him. Fists shook, voices threatened.
+Someone pulled his boot, and Eric sat down on the dais, breathing
+heavily.
+
+He got up fast, before they could swarm all over him, yanked the gun
+from his jumper, poked it against Larkin's ribs. "You know what this
+is?"
+
+"Yes--a gun."
+
+"Well, call your friends off or I'll kill you. I'm not joking, Larkin.
+Call them off--"
+
+"I can't. Look at them, a mob. What can I do now?"
+
+"You'd better do something, because soon you won't have a chance to do
+anything. Now!"
+
+Larkin made a motion to the trumpeteer. He blew two loud notes this
+time, and uniformed men appeared, brandishing clubs. Evidently, they
+were on hand in case the crowd became too wild, threatened Larkin,
+Lindquist and the other nameless rulers.
+
+With their clubs they beat the mob back, slowly, held them off as Eric
+pushed Larkin before him. The crowd surged close, fought once or twice
+with the guards on their immediate flanks. Once Larkin tried to bolt
+away, but thereafter Eric held him firmly until they reached an exit.
+
+Together they sprinted down a corridor, Larkin puffing and staggering.
+"Beat it," Eric told him. "Go on, scram!"
+
+"You won't kill me as I run? I know that thing can kill over long
+distances--"
+
+"Don't give me any ideas," Eric said, but he felt a little sick as
+Larkin ran, whimpering, back toward the hall. This man was their ruler,
+their leader.
+
+He found the door, activated its mechanism, waited impatiently while he
+heard the sounds of pursuit. Something clanged against the door, and
+again. They were throwing things. Eric ducked, felt pain stab at his
+shoulder.
+
+He could see their faces in the corridor when the door began to slide
+clear. He slipped in, punched the levers that would close it again,
+saw a hand and a leg come through the crack, heard a scream. The limbs
+withdrew, and Eric watched grimly as it slid all the way shut.
+
+Lazaruses Eight, Nine, and Ten, he thought, as he went to the three
+remaining tubs. For a moment he gazed down through the pinkish liquid
+at the men curled up, sleeping their long sleep.
+
+He shook the tubs gently. All it would take was that--direct motion.
+Once that had started the cycle, each sleeper's hypothalamus took
+over, twenty-five, fifty, and seventy-five years ahead of schedule. He
+watched them twitch, shiver, slowly uncurl, watched the vapors rising
+from their tubs. He had plenty of time.
+
+In a week, he helped them from their tubs. They were ready to
+listen--smiling baby-faced Chambers, gaunt Striker, rotund Richardson.
+
+He explained, slowly. He told them everything.
+
+"My God," Striker said when he had finished.
+
+"Be thankful you could get back here, lad," Richardson told him. "What
+do we do now?"
+
+"What _can_ we do?" Chambers demanded. Then: "Will you look at that--a
+hundred seventy five years and I haven't even grown a beard!"
+
+They all laughed, and the tension was broken. "We go back," Eric said,
+"armed to the teeth. It won't be difficult. Some of them will die, but
+we can set the ship on its course again, teach them--I'd hate to see
+the disappointment on Earth if we went back after six generations."
+
+Striker frowned. "Have we the right to kill?"
+
+Eric said, "look--they might get back to Earth someday--their progeny a
+bunch of savages; the hope and dreams of the race reduced to--nothing.
+We can kill if we have to."
+
+It was agreed. Without saying anything, Striker himself activated the
+lock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two men with clubs rushed them in the corridor, howling "Lazarus" and
+"death." It was Striker who shot them where they stood, before they
+could use the clubs.
+
+After that, they fired shots into the air, and people ran screaming
+away from them. Their first rush carried them almost to the control
+room and briefly Eric remembered when he had looked out from there
+with Clair at the bright faraway stars. But he could not quite picture
+Clair's face. He tried to, but he saw the girl, Laurie....
+
+A dozen uniformed men stood before the control room. They looked badly
+frightened, but they stood their ground, then advanced.
+
+"What do we do now?" Chambers asked. "We couldn't get them all, not
+before--"
+
+There was a rush behind them as a score of figures marched into the
+corridor. "We're trapped!" Striker cried.
+
+Eric grinned. "I don't think so." He had seen Laurie in the vanguard of
+the newcomers.
+
+They did not have to use their guns, not as they had been meant to be
+used. They fought with tooth and nail, using the guns as clubs. But
+mostly, they stood back and watched their allies tear into the guards.
+
+The girl Laurie cried: "I told you there were some who believed, Eric
+Taine. I told you!"
+
+They reached the control room door, battered at it. Half a dozen men
+came up with a great post of metal, heaved. The door shuddered. Again.
+Again. It crashed in.
+
+Lindquist and Larkin stood there, over a great pile of charts and
+books. "You won't take this ship on to Centauri," Larkin yelled.
+
+A little flame flickered at the end of the tube in his hand. He
+crouched.
+
+"If those are the astrogation charts--" said Striker.
+
+Eric dove, caught Larkin's midsection with his shoulder, threw the man
+back. They struggled on the floor, and dimly Eric was aware of others
+who held the writhing Lindquist. Larkin fought like a snake, twisting,
+turning, gouging.
+
+Eric, out of the corner of his eye, saw Lindquist breaking loose,
+watched him running with the brand to the pile of charts. A shot
+crashed through the room, echoing hollowly. Lindquist fell over his
+charts.
+
+Now Eric had Larkin down, was pinning him, felt the man's hands
+twisting, clawing at his stomach, saw them come away with his gun. They
+grappled, and Eric cursed himself for forgetting the gun. Larkin held
+it, laughed, squeezed the trigger as Eric pushed clear.
+
+Then the laughter faded as Larkin stared stupidly at the gun he had not
+known how to use. Larkin gasped once, held both hands to the growing
+red stain on his middle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Dead," Richardson said later. "They're both dead. You know, I think
+it's better this way. They would have been trouble. But now--now all we
+have to do is find the course again, turn the ship around--"
+
+"It'll mean two extra generations in space," Chambers said. "They've
+been heading back for Earth twenty-five years."
+
+With Eric, he studied the charts, assembled them, punched a few buttons
+on the computing machine. "Like this," Eric said. He twirled a few
+dials. "It takes a long time with the overdrive, but we'll be back on
+course in three years."
+
+For a while he gazed out the port, fascinated by the huge sweep of the
+Milky Way, clear and beautiful in the black sky. When he turned back
+and away from it, Laurie stood beside him.
+
+"Hello, Lazarus."
+
+"Very funny," he said. "Call me Taine--better still, call me Eric."
+
+"Eric, then. Hello, Eric."
+
+He grinned. "I guess you're not psychotic, after all."
+
+"Nope. Normal as can be. But take my great-great-grandmother, now. She
+was really neurotic. She married, all right, but they say she really
+carried a torch all her life."
+
+There was laughter in the girl's eyes as she spoke. Eric had seen other
+eyes like that. So familiar. So beautiful.
+
+"I am Laurie Simmons," the girl told him. "My great-great-grandfather's
+name was Lou Simmons. His wife was Clair. My mother has a book of hers,
+of poems she wrote to Eric."
+
+"Tell me about them, Laurie." A lovely girl; as pretty as her
+great-great-grandmother. No--prettier--and part of today. "Never mind,
+Laurie. Just tell me about yourself."
+
+He knew Clair would like it this way.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Resurrection Seven, by Stephen Marlowe
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58659 ***