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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. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: World of Mockery - -Author: Sam Moskowitz - -Release Date: April 23, 2020 [EBook #61904] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD OF MOCKERY *** - - - - -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="349" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>World of Mockery</h1> - -<h2>By SAM MOSKOWITZ</h2> - -<p>When John Hall walked on Ganymede, a thousand<br /> -weird beings walked with him. He was one man<br /> -on a sphere of mocking, mad creatures—one<br /> -voice in a world of shrieking echoes.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Summer 1941.<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>John Hall wiped away blood that trickled from his mouth. Painstakingly -he disengaged himself from the hopeless wreckage of the control room. -He staggered free, his lungs pumping with terrific effort to draw -enough oxygen from the thin, bitterly cold air of Ganymede—that had -rushed in when his helmet had been shocked open.</p> - -<p>Feeling unusually light he walked over to an enormous tear in the side -of his space-cruiser. A bleak scene met his eyes. Short, grotesquely -hewn hills and crags. Rocky pitted plains. And a bitter, wild wind blew -constantly, streaming his long hair into disarray.</p> - -<p>He cursed through tight lips. Fate! He had been on his way to Vesta, -largest city of Jupiter, when his fuel had given out. He had forgotten -to check it, and here he was.</p> - -<p>Despondently he kicked a small rock in front of him. It rose unhindered -by the feeble gravitation fully thirty feet in the air.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there were a dozen scuffing sounds, and a dozen stones winged -themselves painstakingly through the air and began to descend in slow -motion.</p> - -<p>Surprise struck, he gazed furtively about him. Momentarily his heart -seemed caught in some terrible vise.</p> - -<p>There was a sudden movement behind a close ridge. Momentarily John -Hall was rendered paralyzed. Then he backed slowly toward the ship and -safety behind a Johnson heat ray. The vague form abruptly materialized, -etched in black against the twilight horizon of Ganymede. The effect -was startling. The creature stood upright, on two legs, with two -gnarled, lengthy arms dangling from its bony shoulders. Human? The -question registered itself on his brain, and the thing in front of -him gave unwitting reply, as it moved to a clearer position. No, not -human. Maybe not even animal. Two great eyes bulged curiously from a -drawn, shrunken, monkey-like face. The body was as warped and distorted -as the bole of an old oak tree. With pipe-stem arms and legs, bulging -at the joints. Its most natural position seemed to be a crouch, with -the arms dragging on the ground. Somehow this travesty of human form -struck him as being humorous. He chuckled throatily, and then stopped -with a start as the same chuckle crudely vibrated back, echo-like. -But it was no echo! No, that wasn't possible. John raised his hand -to scratch his head through force of habit; forgetful that this was -impossible through the thick glassite helmet he wore. The tall, -gangling creature in front of him watched closely for a moment, then -stretched one preposterously long limb up and scratched briskly on his -leathery skull in imitation of John Hall.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="295" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The answer struck him instantly. Why hadn't he thought of it. This -animal, this thing, whatever it was, was a natural mimic. Such a -thing was not unknown on earth. Monkeys often imitated the gestures -of humans. Parrots prattled back powerful expletives and phrases. He -rather welcomed his new find now. It would be pretty dismal all alone -on desolate Ganymede with no one to talk to but himself, and this -strange animal would undoubtedly help to lighten the long, dreary -hours, perhaps days, that stretched ahead of him until rescue came. -Certainly there was nothing to fear from this creature; not at least -by himself, born to resist the pull of a gravity force many times more -powerful then that of Ganymede's.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He walked slowly toward the creature viewing its reactions carefully. -It held its ground. Evidently fear was not an element in its makeup. -Why should it be? Doubtlessly these things were the only animate -life on the globe. Masters of all they surveyed. No other beings to -contest their supremecy. No need then for fear or even for savageness. -They were, undoubtedly, happy-go-lucky beasts who scavenged the bleak, -rocky surface of the moon for hardy mosses or whatever they lived -on. He heard a scuffing noise to his left. Another creature, similar -almost in every detail to the first had popped into view. That seemed -to be a signal for a dozen others to haphazardly appear from the most -unexpected places and niches. One rose up within a few feet of Hall and -blinked its great eyes at him in greeting.</p> - -<p>"What the—", Hall spluttered to himself, "seems to be a family reunion -of some sort." Suddenly, prompted by some impish quirk he shouted to -his bizarre audience, "Hello there." A moment of silence and then a -chorus of rasping sounds sent back "Ah-low-da." Probably the closest -that their crude vocal apparatus could interpret his alien accents. -Continuing his mock procedure, John stretched his hands aloft, and then -in stiff, prim fashion bowed low. With solemn dignity the assembly -emulated his action. John leaped twenty feet into the air with glee, -and as he floated slowly to the ground he watched the pitiful attempts -below to equal his feat.</p> - -<p>For a moment everything was still and John good-naturedly surveyed the -grotesque caricatures of human beings that surrounded him. "Well," John -finally commented candidly, "at least we are in agreement over what -line of action to follow, which is more than I could say for a lot of -human friends of mine." A blurred attempt at imitation followed.</p> - -<p>Then abruptly it was dark. Just like that. Perhaps you have seen -darkness fall in the tropics? Just ten or fifteen minutes of twilight -and then it's dark. The thin atmosphere of Ganymede did not maintain -twilight very long. John cursed a little as he backed his erratic -way back to the ship, revealed only by the gleam of the stars on -its rounded hull. He groped about for the tear in the surface of -the glimmering shell, found it and tumbled hastily in to escape the -terrible cold that was forming in the absence of the sun's heat. The -pilot room was rapidly assuming the aspect of an underground cavern -with long, gleaming icicles hanging from the top. John grumbled a -bit, and then opened the door to the small supply room. Closed it -quickly behind him and sat down on a box of canned beans. Funny, -he reflected, that they had never been able to produce synthetic -foods in feasible form. Perhaps habit was harder to change than the -scientists had thought. People still liked their meals—solid. He -reached out and switched on the feeble storeroom light which operated -from an independent source. Its yellow glow brought back a comforting -nostalgia. He dined frugally on a can of beans and some biscuits; -turned the heating units of his suit up to 70 degrees, and dozed into -fitful slumber.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Some indeterminate period later he awoke. His mind still a little -numbed by sleep he slipped the catch on his helmet and threw it back -in order to take advantage of the bracing effect the sharp, thin air -of Ganymede had displayed on the previous evening. He was totally -unprepared for the furnace-like blast of heat that swept across his -exposed features. He stood for a moment, stupefied, while the oven-heat -dried the juices of his face and started to take on a blistering -effect. Comprehension dawned magically and he snapped back the helmet -and breathed with distinct relief the air supplied by his space -suit which was scientifically kept at a pleasant temperature. The -explanation was simplicity itself. The air cover of Ganymede was so -thin, and its cloudless skies so clear, that the sun, though distant, -beat down like old fury itself. He opened the door that led from the -supply room into the pilot room. The long, pointed icicles which had -formed the previous night were gone. The only clue to show that they -had once existed was a rapidly rising cloud of steam from the steel -floor. His glassite helmet misted swiftly as he walked through the -room, then cleared slowly as he stepped out into the full glare of the -sun. He could not help but admire the potency of this yellow star, even -from a distance at which it appeared hardly larger than a standard -sized base ball.</p> - -<p>He cupped one heavily encased hand over the top of his helmet to -protect his eyes from the sun, and searched the skies thoroughly for -any sign of a rescue ship. Sighting nothing he dropped his hand -despondently to his side and stumbled thoughtfully along the rough -terrain. His mind worked desperately, attempting to devise some -feasible means of signaling the rescue parties which must, at this -very moment, be combing the space lanes—searching for him. Some huge -flare might be useful, but a simple glance about him revealed that -the largest form of plant life, which might serve as fuel, were small -grey mosses that grew on the underside of occasional outcropping rock -formations. They were useless for anything but a tiny smudge fire. -His mind turned back to his ship. Possibly there was something highly -combustible aboard that might be used for a flare. His mind flitted -thoughtfully over every item in the ship's supplies and retired with -the conclusion that the anti-fire campaigns which had been conducted -for so long on the inhabited planets were going too far! His only hope -lay in the possibility that one of the rescue ships might briefly scan -the surface of Ganymede with one of their telescopic vision plates and -notice the gleaming wreck of his auxiliary space ship. That gave him an -idea. Something he had once used in an old book. About a castaway on a -desert island arranging rocks to spell out giant words in the hope that -some passing airplane might see the message and land to investigate. -Slim chance, but still nothing could be overlooked if he hoped for -eventual rescue.</p> - -<p>Swiftly he set about gathering rocks. He planned to form the simple -four letter word HELP, with an exclamation point added for emphasis. -So engrossed was he in his work that he scarcely noted the unusual -volume of noise about him, or if he did notice it attributed it to -the small slides caused by his unearthing rocks from their natural -formation. Hours passed while he painstakingly formed the shape of an -enormous letter "H," a letter fully a tenth of a mile long. Exhausted -by the unaccustomed manual labor he straightened up a moment and cast -an approving eye across the extent of his handiwork. A gasp rose -involuntarily from his throat as a strange sight crossed his line of -vision. The land about him fairly swarmed with the peculiar, bony -creatures he had encountered the evening before, and as far as his eyes -could see there stretched an uninterrupted series of H's, all exactly -similar in shape, size and peculiarities of the original! And at the -edge of each of the letters sat a puffing group of emaciated, leathery -skinned Ganymedians! Their great, watery eyes blinking patiently and -soulfully in his direction!</p> - -<p>He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. It was impossible to -proceed. In order to lay out another letter he would have to accomplish -the tremendous task of removing all the other H's as well. He shuddered -as he realized that he would have to repeat the process again and again -until finally the one word help, with a string of exclamation points -miles in length remained. Suddenly a thought struck him. Wasn't this -seemingly endless row of huge H's sufficient to attract the attention -of any searching party that happened to see it without going to the -trouble, double trouble at that, of adding the rest of the letters that -spelled out the word HELP? It seemed logical enough to him. With a -distinct air of relief he turned away, his arduous task of the past few -hours completed, thanks to these freakish creatures that inhabited this -moon.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Again the beginning of the short twilight was progressing and the sun -was settling rapidly in the sky—its glare and heat diminishing with -each passing moment. The massive bulk of Jupiter above could be seen -only as a long, thin, crescent that stretched one quarter of the way -across the visible sky. He experimentally lifted his helmet an inch or -two. A sharp gust of air scurried hurriedly around the contours of his -face and slightly ruffled his hair. He threw the helmet all the way -back and with exultation breathed in tremendous gulps of crisp, <i>fresh</i> -air. For the first time that day his powerful frame rose to its full -six feet of height and he stood statuesque, his shadow cast before him, -a symbol of man against the cosmos.</p> - -<p>Still, somehow his mind could not shift from the ever-present danger. -Possible exhaustion of his food supply; the energy heating units of -his space suit—of water. Once again his thoughts turned to the humor -provided by the strange inhabitants of Ganymede. He called out sharply -to one of them: "How are you old chap?"</p> - -<p>"How're <i>you</i> all chap," the grating reply floated back, thinned by the -sparse atmosphere. Some guttural effect in the creature's voice seemed -to place the emphasis on the word "you." And it sounded uncannily -like a return question, infinitely more so than the echo-like effect -it should have had! And also the speech had improved! Very definitely -improved! Where before they had relayed back his sentences in an -indistinguishable blur of sound, now some of the words stood out, -sharp, clear!</p> - -<p>"This chap doesn't need enunciation lessons," John muttered softly -to himself. And as if to prove it the lips of the creature moved -erratically, as if talking to itself in the identical manner that John -had just done.</p> - -<p>"Nice weather we're having," John phrased ironically as small flakes of -ice formed on the end of his nose.</p> - -<p>"Like hell it is!" came back the surprise retort.</p> - -<p>John stood there aghast. The creature had emitted the very same reply -that he had been <i>thinking</i>, but had not voiced!</p> - -<p>The Ganymedian in front of him took on a more surprising aspect -with each passing moment. For some reason nature had bestowed upon -this travesty of human form a telepathic mental pick-up. Similar, -in results, to the ones in use on earth, except that this was not a -mechanical device. It was, undoubtedly, a far more efficient receiver -of flesh and blood, or whatever substance this thing was composed of, -capable of picking up thought waves as simply as a radio receiver picks -up radio waves.</p> - -<p>"It can do anything but understand," John found himself saying. He -could only wonder why some scientist had not discovered these creatures -before and dissected them to find out just how their peculiar brains -operated.</p> - -<p>And then, for the first time in many hours, his mind turned back to his -fiancee, Joan Crandell. He cursed the stolid fates that had stranded -him here on this god-forsaken satellite with a bunch of damn-fool -mimics. In his mind he visualized Joan as he had last seen her. The -golden, glory-sheen of her hair flowing softly down to her shoulders; -her straight little nose and small, firm chin; her piquant expression -and oh, <i>so</i> desirable lips. And last, but certainly not least her -short, trim figure. Perhaps she wasn't the Venus ideal, but to his mind -at least, she was infinitely more lovable—an ancient phrase, "and -what's more she's got arms," seemed to go well with that thought. For a -little more he accorded himself the luxury of seeing her in his mind's -eye, and then slowly, sadly, shook his head, and looked up. His eyes -popped in disbelief of what he saw! His hands trembled with fearful -delight, wonder and amazement. It couldn't be! It wasn't possible! <i>But -there she stood—Joan Crandell!</i> To the tiniest detail as he had seen -her last! Here on this crazy moon! In an agony of bewilderment he cried -out, "Joan! Joan!" He could say no more. The paralysis of surprise -left his limbs and he dashed wildly forward. <i>"Joan!" and his arms -reached out to grasp her, and twined about a hard, bony, misshapen, -distorted, leathery form!</i> He recoiled in abject horror. These strange -creatures—an instant before new toys to amuse and astound him were -transformed into terror-ridden monsters. No longer a joke—but a -tragedy! Joan, or rather the illusion of Joan was there no longer. In -her place stood a stupid, blinking, <i>thing</i> that threatened his very -sanity—his existence. Something snapped in his mind!</p> - -<p>He ran. Miles he ran. His powerful, earthly muscles lending magic -powers to his feet. Across broken, rock-hard plains—stumbling, -falling, slipping, across stretches of mountain region and through -dim valleys. And night descended upon him. Unfailing, relentless, it -settled leaving everything pitch dark. And they followed him. Miles -behind, but never giving up, never faltering. A mad man they followed -who did not run, but leaped, fifty feet into the air, and screaming at -his slow rate of descent barely touched the ground before he was off -on another leap, even greater than the preceding one. A dozen times he -was speared upon dangerous rocks—the tough substance of his suit the -only thing between him and death. And as tiny leaks formed in his suit, -the insidious cold crept in slowly, surely, numbing his body until each -leap was a little shorter, a little less powerful than the other. -Until lost in a maze of bleak mountains he collapsed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Dawn bolted deer-like over the black hills of Ganymede, and as if it -had never interrupted its work, the distant sun beat down upon the -frozen landscape with renewed vigor. A lone earth figure rolled over -and groaned. Shakily it got to its feet and took a few trembling steps. -John Hall, exhausted physically and mentally was all right again. The -madness of the preceding night had left him, almost as suddenly as it -had come upon him. It was almost as if kind nature had blotted out the -portion of his brain which preserved memory, and left his mind, dulled, -numb. In a daze, his once proud figure tripped along the devious -mountain passes. Too tired to leap—barely capable of moving, John -Hall threaded his tortuous way through regions only half recalled. No -thoughts, simply a guiding instinct that urged him, warned him, that he -must go this way to return to the space ship, and food—maybe rescue.</p> - -<p>And a hundred yards behind him, unnoticed, trailed multiple, black, -ungainly creatures, who stumbled when he stumbled, fell when he fell.</p> - -<p>It was nearing twilight again when John Hall panted back into the -region of his space ship. Barely cognizant of what he was doing, he -smashed a can of beans against the steel hull of the ship and devoured -them without ceremony, animal-like. Then he sat wearily down upon -a ruined metal bench and tried to relax. Weakly, but nevertheless -desperately, he fought with himself. Trying to clear the cobwebs that -cluttered up his brain and reason rationally again. Thoughts, like -flitting ghosts, aroused tantilizingly, only to whisk down some hidden -channel of his mind before he could fully grasp and comprehend them. -One of the grotesque things, creatures, objects, whatever they were, -drew close to him, its bulging eyes peering not inquisitively, but -<i>fearfully</i> into his. He knew! The eluding coherency of thought came. -The answer to the enigma lay in his own mind! His powerful earth mind. -Scientists had always been aware that the mind radiates energy thoughts -away from it. That one mind is capable of hypnotizing another, even -across great distances. These inhabitants of Ganymede, with their acute -mental receptivity, were slaves to his more powerful will—his every -thought. And against their own desires they followed and imitated -him. And through some unknown chemical reaction even took the form, -momentarily, of some wished-for object. It was clear. But now again it -wasn't. His mind was failing. Falling back into the abyss of blackness -and incoherency! He stared a moment at one of the peculiar faces before -him and as he stared it changed, grew smooth, black, ebony black—and -God—blank! Blank like his mind—part of his mind, for through the rest -of it swirled a fantasmagoria of images, and disconnected phrases. He -was alone, or almost so. Those things were still here. It was getting -darker ... colder ... so cold ... was this all a dream? Then he -stopped! For over the blank face of the thing in front of him flickered -images, mirroring his thoughts, like some disconnected motion picture!</p> - -<p>With incredible strength he tore away the protecting mass of his space -suit. The cold wind hit him, knifed him through and through. And -he stepped forward. Walking, walking, and suddenly his great hands -rose aloft in an agony of sorrow. His mighty voice bellowed above -the elements of loneliness, of despair. And always, those grotesque, -storm-swept, misshapen creatures fastened their wet, glistening eyes -upon him and in the depths of them displayed rage as he displayed it; -despair as he displayed it. And when he pounded his clenched fists in -powerful blows upon his resounding chest, they pounded their gnarled -limbs upon their shrunken chests in powerful mimicry.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When the crew of the rescue ship "Space-Spear" landed, they turned back -in horror at a planet of mad-things that shrieked, wept, raged and -despaired in a manner that was more than imitation—that was real! And -they could not help but shudder inwardly at the terrible fate that had -befallen John Hall, and his horrible, unknowing revenge!</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of World of Mockery, by Sam Moskowitz - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD OF MOCKERY *** - -***** This file should be named 61904-h.htm or 61904-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/9/0/61904/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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/license - - -Title: World of Mockery - -Author: Sam Moskowitz - -Release Date: April 23, 2020 [EBook #61904] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD OF MOCKERY *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - World of Mockery - - By SAM MOSKOWITZ - - When John Hall walked on Ganymede, a thousand - weird beings walked with him. He was one man - on a sphere of mocking, mad creatures--one - voice in a world of shrieking echoes. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Summer 1941. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -John Hall wiped away blood that trickled from his mouth. Painstakingly -he disengaged himself from the hopeless wreckage of the control room. -He staggered free, his lungs pumping with terrific effort to draw -enough oxygen from the thin, bitterly cold air of Ganymede--that had -rushed in when his helmet had been shocked open. - -Feeling unusually light he walked over to an enormous tear in the side -of his space-cruiser. A bleak scene met his eyes. Short, grotesquely -hewn hills and crags. Rocky pitted plains. And a bitter, wild wind blew -constantly, streaming his long hair into disarray. - -He cursed through tight lips. Fate! He had been on his way to Vesta, -largest city of Jupiter, when his fuel had given out. He had forgotten -to check it, and here he was. - -Despondently he kicked a small rock in front of him. It rose unhindered -by the feeble gravitation fully thirty feet in the air. - -Suddenly there were a dozen scuffing sounds, and a dozen stones winged -themselves painstakingly through the air and began to descend in slow -motion. - -Surprise struck, he gazed furtively about him. Momentarily his heart -seemed caught in some terrible vise. - -There was a sudden movement behind a close ridge. Momentarily John -Hall was rendered paralyzed. Then he backed slowly toward the ship and -safety behind a Johnson heat ray. The vague form abruptly materialized, -etched in black against the twilight horizon of Ganymede. The effect -was startling. The creature stood upright, on two legs, with two -gnarled, lengthy arms dangling from its bony shoulders. Human? The -question registered itself on his brain, and the thing in front of -him gave unwitting reply, as it moved to a clearer position. No, not -human. Maybe not even animal. Two great eyes bulged curiously from a -drawn, shrunken, monkey-like face. The body was as warped and distorted -as the bole of an old oak tree. With pipe-stem arms and legs, bulging -at the joints. Its most natural position seemed to be a crouch, with -the arms dragging on the ground. Somehow this travesty of human form -struck him as being humorous. He chuckled throatily, and then stopped -with a start as the same chuckle crudely vibrated back, echo-like. -But it was no echo! No, that wasn't possible. John raised his hand -to scratch his head through force of habit; forgetful that this was -impossible through the thick glassite helmet he wore. The tall, -gangling creature in front of him watched closely for a moment, then -stretched one preposterously long limb up and scratched briskly on his -leathery skull in imitation of John Hall. - -The answer struck him instantly. Why hadn't he thought of it. This -animal, this thing, whatever it was, was a natural mimic. Such a -thing was not unknown on earth. Monkeys often imitated the gestures -of humans. Parrots prattled back powerful expletives and phrases. He -rather welcomed his new find now. It would be pretty dismal all alone -on desolate Ganymede with no one to talk to but himself, and this -strange animal would undoubtedly help to lighten the long, dreary -hours, perhaps days, that stretched ahead of him until rescue came. -Certainly there was nothing to fear from this creature; not at least -by himself, born to resist the pull of a gravity force many times more -powerful then that of Ganymede's. - - * * * * * - -He walked slowly toward the creature viewing its reactions carefully. -It held its ground. Evidently fear was not an element in its makeup. -Why should it be? Doubtlessly these things were the only animate -life on the globe. Masters of all they surveyed. No other beings to -contest their supremecy. No need then for fear or even for savageness. -They were, undoubtedly, happy-go-lucky beasts who scavenged the bleak, -rocky surface of the moon for hardy mosses or whatever they lived -on. He heard a scuffing noise to his left. Another creature, similar -almost in every detail to the first had popped into view. That seemed -to be a signal for a dozen others to haphazardly appear from the most -unexpected places and niches. One rose up within a few feet of Hall and -blinked its great eyes at him in greeting. - -"What the--", Hall spluttered to himself, "seems to be a family reunion -of some sort." Suddenly, prompted by some impish quirk he shouted to -his bizarre audience, "Hello there." A moment of silence and then a -chorus of rasping sounds sent back "Ah-low-da." Probably the closest -that their crude vocal apparatus could interpret his alien accents. -Continuing his mock procedure, John stretched his hands aloft, and then -in stiff, prim fashion bowed low. With solemn dignity the assembly -emulated his action. John leaped twenty feet into the air with glee, -and as he floated slowly to the ground he watched the pitiful attempts -below to equal his feat. - -For a moment everything was still and John good-naturedly surveyed the -grotesque caricatures of human beings that surrounded him. "Well," John -finally commented candidly, "at least we are in agreement over what -line of action to follow, which is more than I could say for a lot of -human friends of mine." A blurred attempt at imitation followed. - -Then abruptly it was dark. Just like that. Perhaps you have seen -darkness fall in the tropics? Just ten or fifteen minutes of twilight -and then it's dark. The thin atmosphere of Ganymede did not maintain -twilight very long. John cursed a little as he backed his erratic -way back to the ship, revealed only by the gleam of the stars on -its rounded hull. He groped about for the tear in the surface of -the glimmering shell, found it and tumbled hastily in to escape the -terrible cold that was forming in the absence of the sun's heat. The -pilot room was rapidly assuming the aspect of an underground cavern -with long, gleaming icicles hanging from the top. John grumbled a -bit, and then opened the door to the small supply room. Closed it -quickly behind him and sat down on a box of canned beans. Funny, -he reflected, that they had never been able to produce synthetic -foods in feasible form. Perhaps habit was harder to change than the -scientists had thought. People still liked their meals--solid. He -reached out and switched on the feeble storeroom light which operated -from an independent source. Its yellow glow brought back a comforting -nostalgia. He dined frugally on a can of beans and some biscuits; -turned the heating units of his suit up to 70 degrees, and dozed into -fitful slumber. - - * * * * * - -Some indeterminate period later he awoke. His mind still a little -numbed by sleep he slipped the catch on his helmet and threw it back -in order to take advantage of the bracing effect the sharp, thin air -of Ganymede had displayed on the previous evening. He was totally -unprepared for the furnace-like blast of heat that swept across his -exposed features. He stood for a moment, stupefied, while the oven-heat -dried the juices of his face and started to take on a blistering -effect. Comprehension dawned magically and he snapped back the helmet -and breathed with distinct relief the air supplied by his space -suit which was scientifically kept at a pleasant temperature. The -explanation was simplicity itself. The air cover of Ganymede was so -thin, and its cloudless skies so clear, that the sun, though distant, -beat down like old fury itself. He opened the door that led from the -supply room into the pilot room. The long, pointed icicles which had -formed the previous night were gone. The only clue to show that they -had once existed was a rapidly rising cloud of steam from the steel -floor. His glassite helmet misted swiftly as he walked through the -room, then cleared slowly as he stepped out into the full glare of the -sun. He could not help but admire the potency of this yellow star, even -from a distance at which it appeared hardly larger than a standard -sized base ball. - -He cupped one heavily encased hand over the top of his helmet to -protect his eyes from the sun, and searched the skies thoroughly for -any sign of a rescue ship. Sighting nothing he dropped his hand -despondently to his side and stumbled thoughtfully along the rough -terrain. His mind worked desperately, attempting to devise some -feasible means of signaling the rescue parties which must, at this -very moment, be combing the space lanes--searching for him. Some huge -flare might be useful, but a simple glance about him revealed that -the largest form of plant life, which might serve as fuel, were small -grey mosses that grew on the underside of occasional outcropping rock -formations. They were useless for anything but a tiny smudge fire. -His mind turned back to his ship. Possibly there was something highly -combustible aboard that might be used for a flare. His mind flitted -thoughtfully over every item in the ship's supplies and retired with -the conclusion that the anti-fire campaigns which had been conducted -for so long on the inhabited planets were going too far! His only hope -lay in the possibility that one of the rescue ships might briefly scan -the surface of Ganymede with one of their telescopic vision plates and -notice the gleaming wreck of his auxiliary space ship. That gave him an -idea. Something he had once used in an old book. About a castaway on a -desert island arranging rocks to spell out giant words in the hope that -some passing airplane might see the message and land to investigate. -Slim chance, but still nothing could be overlooked if he hoped for -eventual rescue. - -Swiftly he set about gathering rocks. He planned to form the simple -four letter word HELP, with an exclamation point added for emphasis. -So engrossed was he in his work that he scarcely noted the unusual -volume of noise about him, or if he did notice it attributed it to -the small slides caused by his unearthing rocks from their natural -formation. Hours passed while he painstakingly formed the shape of an -enormous letter "H," a letter fully a tenth of a mile long. Exhausted -by the unaccustomed manual labor he straightened up a moment and cast -an approving eye across the extent of his handiwork. A gasp rose -involuntarily from his throat as a strange sight crossed his line of -vision. The land about him fairly swarmed with the peculiar, bony -creatures he had encountered the evening before, and as far as his eyes -could see there stretched an uninterrupted series of H's, all exactly -similar in shape, size and peculiarities of the original! And at the -edge of each of the letters sat a puffing group of emaciated, leathery -skinned Ganymedians! Their great, watery eyes blinking patiently and -soulfully in his direction! - -He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. It was impossible to -proceed. In order to lay out another letter he would have to accomplish -the tremendous task of removing all the other H's as well. He shuddered -as he realized that he would have to repeat the process again and again -until finally the one word help, with a string of exclamation points -miles in length remained. Suddenly a thought struck him. Wasn't this -seemingly endless row of huge H's sufficient to attract the attention -of any searching party that happened to see it without going to the -trouble, double trouble at that, of adding the rest of the letters that -spelled out the word HELP? It seemed logical enough to him. With a -distinct air of relief he turned away, his arduous task of the past few -hours completed, thanks to these freakish creatures that inhabited this -moon. - - * * * * * - -Again the beginning of the short twilight was progressing and the sun -was settling rapidly in the sky--its glare and heat diminishing with -each passing moment. The massive bulk of Jupiter above could be seen -only as a long, thin, crescent that stretched one quarter of the way -across the visible sky. He experimentally lifted his helmet an inch or -two. A sharp gust of air scurried hurriedly around the contours of his -face and slightly ruffled his hair. He threw the helmet all the way -back and with exultation breathed in tremendous gulps of crisp, _fresh_ -air. For the first time that day his powerful frame rose to its full -six feet of height and he stood statuesque, his shadow cast before him, -a symbol of man against the cosmos. - -Still, somehow his mind could not shift from the ever-present danger. -Possible exhaustion of his food supply; the energy heating units of -his space suit--of water. Once again his thoughts turned to the humor -provided by the strange inhabitants of Ganymede. He called out sharply -to one of them: "How are you old chap?" - -"How're _you_ all chap," the grating reply floated back, thinned by the -sparse atmosphere. Some guttural effect in the creature's voice seemed -to place the emphasis on the word "you." And it sounded uncannily -like a return question, infinitely more so than the echo-like effect -it should have had! And also the speech had improved! Very definitely -improved! Where before they had relayed back his sentences in an -indistinguishable blur of sound, now some of the words stood out, -sharp, clear! - -"This chap doesn't need enunciation lessons," John muttered softly -to himself. And as if to prove it the lips of the creature moved -erratically, as if talking to itself in the identical manner that John -had just done. - -"Nice weather we're having," John phrased ironically as small flakes of -ice formed on the end of his nose. - -"Like hell it is!" came back the surprise retort. - -John stood there aghast. The creature had emitted the very same reply -that he had been _thinking_, but had not voiced! - -The Ganymedian in front of him took on a more surprising aspect -with each passing moment. For some reason nature had bestowed upon -this travesty of human form a telepathic mental pick-up. Similar, -in results, to the ones in use on earth, except that this was not a -mechanical device. It was, undoubtedly, a far more efficient receiver -of flesh and blood, or whatever substance this thing was composed of, -capable of picking up thought waves as simply as a radio receiver picks -up radio waves. - -"It can do anything but understand," John found himself saying. He -could only wonder why some scientist had not discovered these creatures -before and dissected them to find out just how their peculiar brains -operated. - -And then, for the first time in many hours, his mind turned back to his -fiancee, Joan Crandell. He cursed the stolid fates that had stranded -him here on this god-forsaken satellite with a bunch of damn-fool -mimics. In his mind he visualized Joan as he had last seen her. The -golden, glory-sheen of her hair flowing softly down to her shoulders; -her straight little nose and small, firm chin; her piquant expression -and oh, _so_ desirable lips. And last, but certainly not least her -short, trim figure. Perhaps she wasn't the Venus ideal, but to his mind -at least, she was infinitely more lovable--an ancient phrase, "and -what's more she's got arms," seemed to go well with that thought. For a -little more he accorded himself the luxury of seeing her in his mind's -eye, and then slowly, sadly, shook his head, and looked up. His eyes -popped in disbelief of what he saw! His hands trembled with fearful -delight, wonder and amazement. It couldn't be! It wasn't possible! _But -there she stood--Joan Crandell!_ To the tiniest detail as he had seen -her last! Here on this crazy moon! In an agony of bewilderment he cried -out, "Joan! Joan!" He could say no more. The paralysis of surprise -left his limbs and he dashed wildly forward. _"Joan!" and his arms -reached out to grasp her, and twined about a hard, bony, misshapen, -distorted, leathery form!_ He recoiled in abject horror. These strange -creatures--an instant before new toys to amuse and astound him were -transformed into terror-ridden monsters. No longer a joke--but a -tragedy! Joan, or rather the illusion of Joan was there no longer. In -her place stood a stupid, blinking, _thing_ that threatened his very -sanity--his existence. Something snapped in his mind! - -He ran. Miles he ran. His powerful, earthly muscles lending magic -powers to his feet. Across broken, rock-hard plains--stumbling, -falling, slipping, across stretches of mountain region and through -dim valleys. And night descended upon him. Unfailing, relentless, it -settled leaving everything pitch dark. And they followed him. Miles -behind, but never giving up, never faltering. A mad man they followed -who did not run, but leaped, fifty feet into the air, and screaming at -his slow rate of descent barely touched the ground before he was off -on another leap, even greater than the preceding one. A dozen times he -was speared upon dangerous rocks--the tough substance of his suit the -only thing between him and death. And as tiny leaks formed in his suit, -the insidious cold crept in slowly, surely, numbing his body until each -leap was a little shorter, a little less powerful than the other. -Until lost in a maze of bleak mountains he collapsed. - - * * * * * - -Dawn bolted deer-like over the black hills of Ganymede, and as if it -had never interrupted its work, the distant sun beat down upon the -frozen landscape with renewed vigor. A lone earth figure rolled over -and groaned. Shakily it got to its feet and took a few trembling steps. -John Hall, exhausted physically and mentally was all right again. The -madness of the preceding night had left him, almost as suddenly as it -had come upon him. It was almost as if kind nature had blotted out the -portion of his brain which preserved memory, and left his mind, dulled, -numb. In a daze, his once proud figure tripped along the devious -mountain passes. Too tired to leap--barely capable of moving, John -Hall threaded his tortuous way through regions only half recalled. No -thoughts, simply a guiding instinct that urged him, warned him, that he -must go this way to return to the space ship, and food--maybe rescue. - -And a hundred yards behind him, unnoticed, trailed multiple, black, -ungainly creatures, who stumbled when he stumbled, fell when he fell. - -It was nearing twilight again when John Hall panted back into the -region of his space ship. Barely cognizant of what he was doing, he -smashed a can of beans against the steel hull of the ship and devoured -them without ceremony, animal-like. Then he sat wearily down upon -a ruined metal bench and tried to relax. Weakly, but nevertheless -desperately, he fought with himself. Trying to clear the cobwebs that -cluttered up his brain and reason rationally again. Thoughts, like -flitting ghosts, aroused tantilizingly, only to whisk down some hidden -channel of his mind before he could fully grasp and comprehend them. -One of the grotesque things, creatures, objects, whatever they were, -drew close to him, its bulging eyes peering not inquisitively, but -_fearfully_ into his. He knew! The eluding coherency of thought came. -The answer to the enigma lay in his own mind! His powerful earth mind. -Scientists had always been aware that the mind radiates energy thoughts -away from it. That one mind is capable of hypnotizing another, even -across great distances. These inhabitants of Ganymede, with their acute -mental receptivity, were slaves to his more powerful will--his every -thought. And against their own desires they followed and imitated -him. And through some unknown chemical reaction even took the form, -momentarily, of some wished-for object. It was clear. But now again it -wasn't. His mind was failing. Falling back into the abyss of blackness -and incoherency! He stared a moment at one of the peculiar faces before -him and as he stared it changed, grew smooth, black, ebony black--and -God--blank! Blank like his mind--part of his mind, for through the rest -of it swirled a fantasmagoria of images, and disconnected phrases. He -was alone, or almost so. Those things were still here. It was getting -darker ... colder ... so cold ... was this all a dream? Then he -stopped! For over the blank face of the thing in front of him flickered -images, mirroring his thoughts, like some disconnected motion picture! - -With incredible strength he tore away the protecting mass of his space -suit. The cold wind hit him, knifed him through and through. And -he stepped forward. Walking, walking, and suddenly his great hands -rose aloft in an agony of sorrow. His mighty voice bellowed above -the elements of loneliness, of despair. And always, those grotesque, -storm-swept, misshapen creatures fastened their wet, glistening eyes -upon him and in the depths of them displayed rage as he displayed it; -despair as he displayed it. And when he pounded his clenched fists in -powerful blows upon his resounding chest, they pounded their gnarled -limbs upon their shrunken chests in powerful mimicry. - - * * * * * - -When the crew of the rescue ship "Space-Spear" landed, they turned back -in horror at a planet of mad-things that shrieked, wept, raged and -despaired in a manner that was more than imitation--that was real! And -they could not help but shudder inwardly at the terrible fate that had -befallen John Hall, and his horrible, unknowing revenge! - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of World of Mockery, by Sam Moskowitz - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD OF MOCKERY *** - -***** This file should be named 61904.txt or 61904.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/9/0/61904/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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