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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..ba28d8b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65035 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65035) diff --git a/old/65035-0.txt b/old/65035-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 20cff20..0000000 --- a/old/65035-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,794 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Inheritance, by Edward W. Ludwig - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Inheritance - -Author: Edward W. Ludwig - -Release Date: April 09, 2021 [eBook #65035] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INHERITANCE *** - - - - - He had been in the cave for only a short time it - seemed. But when he finally emerged the world he - knew was gone. And it had left him with a strange-- - - INHERITANCE - - By Edward W. Ludwig - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - October 1950 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -It shone as a pin-point of silver far away in the midnight-blackness of -the cave. It shone as a tiny island of life in a sea of death. It shone -as a symbol of His mercy. - -Martin stood swaying, staring wide-eyed at that wonderful light and -letting its image sink deep into his vision. His eyes lidded as -consciousness faded for an instant, then opened. - -"We've almost made it," he gasped. "We've almost made it, Sandy, you -and me and the pup!" - -His hand passed tenderly over the puppy, a soft, hairy ball of living -warmth cradled in his arm. And from out of the darkness at his feet -came a feeble bark. - -Martin choked on the ancient, tomb-stale air. "We can't stop now, -Sandy," he wheezed. "We're almost there, almost at the entrance!" - -He shuffled forward over the cold stone floor of the little cave, the -thick, dead air a solid thing, a wall that pressed him back, back, back. - -But the light grew larger, expanding like a balloon, and suddenly -there was a skittering of dog-paws over stone and a joyous, frantic -barking. - -"That's right, Sandy, go ahead. Breathe that air, that fresh air!" - -Martin staggered once, his lean, tall body thudding against sharp rock -in the side of the cave. Then a draft of air blew cool and fresh into -his face, and a strength returned to him. - -Abruptly, he was at the source of the light, at the cave's entrance, a -hole barely large enough for him to squeeze through. The blinding light -of day fell upon him like a gigantic, crashing sea wave. He closed his -aching eyes and fell to the side of the rock-strewn hill, sucking the -clean sweet air deep into his lungs. - - * * * * * - -At length he sat up, holding the pup in his arms. "Two days in that -hole of hell," he murmured, "and it's all your fault. A month old, and -you have to start exploring caves." - -He cocked his head. "Still, I guess it's partly my fault. After all, I -got lost, too." - -Sandy, a black and white fox terrier, barked impatiently. - -"Okay, Sandy, okay. We'll go home." - -Shakily, Martin rose. His mind was clear now, the fogginess washed away -by the cool morning air. There was only hunger, that great gnawing -hunger, and thirst that made his throat and mouth seem as dry as -ancient parchment. - -As he stood overlooking the valley below with its green fields and -little groves of trees, a realization came to him. The world wasn't -so bad after all! Up to this moment, he'd almost hated the world -with its wars, its threats of mass destruction, its warnings of -atomic dusts and plagues that could wipe out humanity within an hour. -He'd most certainly hated the cities with their blaring, rumbling -automobile-monsters, with their mad rushing, their greedy, frantic, -senseless, superficial living that was really not living at all. - -That was why he had chosen to live in the hill country, on the -outskirts of the village, raising his few vegetables and making a trip -every few days to the village store to purchase other necessities with -his pension check from World War II. - -But now, he realized, it was good to be alive and to be a part of the -green, growing things of Earth. - -Sandy barked again. - -"Okay, okay, Sandy. We'll go." - -But Sandy came sidling up to him now, tail between his legs. His -barking faded to a low, shrill whimper. - -"Sandy! What's the matter? What's wrong?" - -Even the whimpering ceased, and there was silence. Martin stared at -the dog, not understanding. To him came a _feeling_. Something _was_ -wrong. A nameless fear rose within him, but the cause of that fear was -intangible, locked just below the surface of consciousness. - -He took the fear, crushed it, pushed it back into the caverns of his -mind that held only forgotten things. "Nothing's wrong," he declared -boldly. "We're just tired and hungry, that's all." - -He strode down the quiet hillside toward the broad highway that -stretched across the valley. He sang: - - "We're happy, so happy, - Don't want to reach a star; - We're happy, always happy, - Just the way we are." - -Strange about that tune, he thought. He hated popular music, but in -a regrettable moment of optimism he'd once purchased a second-hand -battery video. After a three-day saturation with tooth paste and soap -commercials he'd consigned the monstrosity to a remote corner of the -woods, but that tune--of all the dubious products of civilization--had -somehow stuck in his memory. - -Suddenly he stopped singing, as if some inexplicable pressure had -seized his throat, stopping the flow of words. It was quiet--so -incredibly, alarmingly, terrifyingly quiet. Just ahead of him was the -highway, its gray smooth ribbon clearly visible through a thin wall of -elms. But there was no swish-swish of speeding cars. - -And there were no bird twitterings and no insect hummings and no -skitterings of squirrels at the bases of trees and no droning of -gyro-planes. There was only silence. - -He broke out onto the highway which was dotted with cars, and the cars -were motionless. Some of them were crushed, charred wrecks on the side -of the road; some had collided in the center of the road to become ugly -little mountains of twisted metal, and others were simply parked. But -all were motionless. - -"Come on, Sandy. Something's happened!" - -Sandy wouldn't come. He arched his trembling body across Martin's legs, -whimpering. Martin picked him up. Sandy in one arm, the drowsy-eyed pup -in the other, he walked to the nearest car, which appeared undamaged. - -There were three occupants. A man, a woman, a girl-child, and they were -as if sleeping. No wounds, no discolorations were on their flesh. But -their flesh was cold, cold, and there were no heart beats. They were -dead. - -"We--We won't go home yet," Martin said softly. "We'll go to the -village." - -He walked. He walked past a hundred, a thousand silent cars with silent -occupants, past green meadows that were dotted with silent, fallen -cattle and sheep and horses. - -There was a new fear within him now, but even greater than the fear was -a numbness that like a sleep-producing drug had dulled mind and vision -and hearing. He walked stiffly, automatically. He was afraid to think -and reason, for thought and reason could bring only--madness. - -"At the village we'll find out what happened," he mumbled. - -At the village he found out--nothing. Because there, too, was only a -silence and the white, still people. - -"Perhaps in the city--" he murmured. "Yes, the city." - -The City was 20 miles away, and he selected an automobile, one in which -there were no still people. It had been a long time since he'd driven, -nearly ten years, but after a few moments of fumbling, remembrance -came easily. With Sandy and the pup on the front seat beside him, he -drove.... - - * * * * * - -The City was as empty as an ancient skull. There was no life and no -reminder of life. There were no still people and no automobiles and no -movement and no sound. The towering white office buildings, the broad -avenues, the theatres, the parks--all seemed hollow and unreal, like a -desert mirage that would dissolve into nothingness at the whispering -touch of a breeze. - -Martin mumbled, "I reckon, Sandy, that everybody left the City. They -headed for the country. That's why we passed so many cars." - -He spied the office of _The Times_. "Maybe we can find out something in -there," he said. "Come on, Sandy. Pup, you stay here." - -He parked the car and strode into the building, past desks, cabinets, -typewriters, stacked bundles of newspapers. - -Then he saw the man. He was one of the silent men, sprawled back in a -chair, a typewriter before him. He had been writing, evidently, for one -stiff, white hand was still poised over the keys. - -Martin read the typewritten words aloud: - -"The enemy had apparently underestimated the power of the odorless, -tasteless gas. A Nitrogen compound of extreme volutility, it has -reached virtually every inch of the Earth. The enemy is destroyed as we -are destroyed. Gas masks and air filters have proved useless. The gas -is highly unstable and should disintegrate within 48 hours, yet because -of the suddenness of the attack, we can conclude only that humanity -is--" The message broke off. - -Suddenly the newsroom was like a tomb, a burial of all mankind's -accomplishments and frustrations, his good-doings and evil-doings. Here -into this room had flowed, ceaseless as a river, the stories of man's -love, hate, struggle, fear, grasping, success, and disappointment. Side -by side they lay in the labyrinth of files, the stories of Mrs. Smith's -divorce and a dictator's defeat, the sagas of a child losing a pet and -a scientist discovering a star. All equal now, as skeletons of great -men and little men are equal, all buried in steel drawers and sealed by -silence. - -Martin looked at the stiffened figure of the reporter. "I wonder -why you stayed," he mused. "I wonder why you didn't flee like the -others. Maybe, maybe you wanted to write the _last_ news story ever -written--and the most important one. Yes, I reckon that was it." - -Slowly, Martin walked out of the building and slid into the car. Sandy -welcomed him with a joy-filled barking and tail-wagging and tried to -lick his face, and the pup attempted to waddle across his legs. - -"No, Sandy, don't." He stared unseeingly through the windshield. -"Everybody's gone, Sandy, everybody on Earth, except me." His eyes -widened slightly. "Course, there _might_ be somebody else, somewhere. -The gas never got to us in the cave. Maybe somebody else escaped, -somehow." - -He shook his head. "Nope, no use hoping for that. Odds'd be a thousand -to one 'gainst my finding 'em. No, we just got to make up our minds -that we're the last ones alive." - -_The last ones alive._ The thought was like flame in his mind. The -numbness was gone now, as coldness thaws from a warmed body, but there -came to him a second thought, a horrible, fear-born thought which he -dared not say aloud, even to Sandy. - -_A man can't live alone, without hearing another human voice, without -seeing another human form. A man isn't made that way. You've got two -choices now, just two: Suicide or madness. Which will it be? Suicide or -madness, suicide or madness...._ - - * * * * * - -He sat for a long, long time, his mind a jumble of indecision. Then at -last he thought, _I don't want to go mad, the other way is best. We'll -make it easy. Carbon monoxide would be the easiest way._ - -But suddenly there was a churning and a twisting in his stomach, as -though it were being squeezed by a giant hand. - -"Golly, Sandy, we forgot to eat. And we haven't eaten for two days." -And to himself he said, _This'll be our last meal, the last we'll ever -have._ - -He took the pup in his arms and Sandy followed. He spied a huge sign -not far away--_Cafe Royale_. It was a magnificent restaurant, the -carpeted, canopied entrance reminding him of the front of a sultan's -palace. Three days ago--if he'd been foolish enough to come to the City -then--he'd have rushed past it with his hand protecting his pocketbook, -hardly daring to look within lest the stiff-shirted, high-chinned -waiters and patrons think him a country bumpkin. - -But now--well, why not? - -He ambled through the vast dining hall with its multitude of -white-clothed tables, its potted palms, its modernistic, chromium bar. -The high walls were decorated with soft-hued, multi-colored murals -depicting the rise of Western Civilization--first, the pioneers, the -cowboys, then a factory scene and a war scene, and finally a group of -spacemen entering a moon-bound rocket. - -Martin made a wheezing sound of admiration. "What a place, eh, Sandy? -We should have come here a long time ago." - -Then he spied the juke box. "There's one of them music machines--and -it's lit up. Reckon the power's still on." - -Martin had always wanted to play a juke box, but nickels, back home, -were scarce. He pursed his lips. "Why not, Sandy? Nickels don't mean -much now, and if this is going to be our last meal, we might as well -enjoy it." - -He inserted a quarter, and after a few moments of pushing this and -that button, music played. It was "Song of The Stars," the latest -hit, vibrant, full, rhythmic--not at all like the screeching from the -second-hand video he'd owned once. - -While he listened, he strode to the bar. Not that he was a drinking -man. He occasionally had a cold beer on Saturday evening; that was -all. But now, with that dazzling array of bottles glittering before -him--"Nobody'll miss it now," he told Sandy. - -He poured himself three fingers of Scotch and downed it thirstily. -"Ahhhh! Been a long time since I had anything like that. Now let's see -what's in that kitchen." - -Electricity was still on. Refrigerators were humming, and Martin's gaze -wandered appraisingly over red, juicy T-bones, over dressed chickens, -turkeys, rabbits, hams. - -"Reckon we're too hungry to wait for chicken," he drawled. "Guess -T-bones'd be nice for a last meal. How about it, Sandy?" - -Sandy barked. - -Dinner was soon ready. Fried T-bone, mashed potatoes and dark -gravy, caviar, some kind of soup with a fishy taste, apple pie with -strawberry ice cream, chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, maple nut, -tuiti-fruiti and pineapple ice cream, and coffee. - -Martin settled back and puffed on a 50c cigar. "You know, Sandy, it -wouldn't always be like this. In a couple of weeks there won't be any -more power. Food will spoil, there'll be only canned stuff." - -He frowned thoughtfully. Perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps suicide was -not the best way. He could have a few pleasures in the next day or -two--if madness didn't come. And if madness did start to come, well.... - - * * * * * - -It was a sleek, streamlined jet job, the automobile of automobiles. Not -an antiquated monstrosity like the '51 coupe he'd been driving. - -He stared through the window at its tear-drop lines, at its broad, -transparent top, at the shiny chrome and gold. - -"We shouldn't be thinking about such things, Sandy. We should be -thinking about all those people, those poor people who died. All the -men and women and children--" - -For an instant, grief welled up within him, a cold, almost sickening -grief. But abruptly, it became an impersonal, remote kind of grief. -It was like a Fourth of July rocket shooting out a blinding tail of -crimson and then bursting, its body crumbling into a thousand pieces, a -thousand tiny sparks falling and fading and dying. - -"Still, they knew it was coming, didn't they, Sandy? And they didn't -try very hard to stop it." - -He looked again at the car. "Reckon it won't do any harm to see how it -runs. After all, if we're goin' mad, we might as well enjoy ourselves -first." - - * * * * * - -The window display in the sport shop fascinated him. There were guns -and fishing rods and fur-lined jackets and shiny boots and bright -woolen shirts and sun goggles and camp stoves and-- - -"Don't reckon the guns'd do us much good," Martin murmured, "seein' as -how there's nothing left alive--'cept us. Might be fun to shoot 'em -though. I remember when I was a kid, how I used to shoot windows out of -old houses." He chuckled softly. - -His gaze traveled to the fishing equipment. "Golly, Sandy, I'll bet -there's fish left in the oceans! The gas never touched us there in the -cave. I'll bet the fish--or a lot of 'em--escaped, too!" - -He glanced disapprovingly at his thin, faded shirt, dirty khaki -trousers, and worn, scuffed shoes. Those clean, bright, woolen clothes -in the window would be nice, very nice, on cool nights. - -"Might even have dog clothes in there," he said. "Maybe a dog sweater. -How'd you like that, Sandy?" - -Sandy barked eagerly. - - * * * * * - -He squatted on the floor of the travel office, surrounded by a sea -of crisp, gaudy-colored posters and pamphlets. What a place this old -Earth was! The pyramids of Egypt, the Tower of London, the Washington -Monument, the Florida Everglades, the Arch of Triumph, the Eiffel -Tower, Yosemite Valley, Boulder Dam, the Wall of China, Yellowstone -Park, Suez Canal, Panama Canal, Niagara. Why, it would take a lifetime -to see them all! - -"You know, Sandy, if a man _didn't_ go mad from being alone, he could -see a lot of things. He could travel anywhere on this continent in a -car. If something went wrong, he could get parts out of other cars, -get gas out of other tanks. There's plenty of canned food everywhere, -'nough to last a lifetime--a dozen lifetimes. Why, he could walk right -into Washington, right into the White House and see how the President -lived, or go to Hollywood and see how they used to make pictures, or -go to them telescope places and look at the stars. Course, there'd be -bodies almost everywhere, but in a year or so they'd be gone, all 'cept -the bones which never hurt nobody." - -He scratched his neck thoughtfully. "Why, you wouldn't have to stay on -this continent even. You could find a little boat and sail up the coast -to Alaska and then cut across to Asia. It's only fifty miles, they say. -And then you could go down to China and India and Africa and Europe. -Why, a man could go any place in the world alone!" - -Sandy began to lick his face and the pup released a nervous, eager bark -that was more like "Yip! Yip!" than a bark. - -"That's right, Sandy. I'm not alone, am I? No more than I ever was, -really. Never liked to talk to people anyway. You're only two years -old, you'll live for ten, maybe twelve years yet, you and the pup. -Maybe longer than I will." - -He rose, frowning. It was strange. There was a grief and a loneliness -within him and he knew they would be within him forever. But, too, -there was an ever-growing peace and contentment and a satisfaction, and -a sense of still belonging to Earth and being a part of it. Strangest -of all, he realized that there was no madness in his mind and no seed -of madness. He felt like a boy again, about to begin a wondrous journey -through unexplored and enchanted lands to discover new marvels. - -He left the travel office, Sandy and the pup barking and clammering at -his heels, and he was singing: - - "We're happy, so happy, - Don't want to reach a star; - We're happy, always happy, - Just the way we are...." - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INHERITANCE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Ludwig</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Inheritance</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Edward W. Ludwig</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 09, 2021 [eBook #65035]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INHERITANCE ***</div> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p>He had been in the cave for only a short time it<br /> -seemed. But when he finally emerged the world he<br /> -knew was gone. And it had left him with a strange—</p> - -<h1>INHERITANCE</h1> - -<h2>By Edward W. Ludwig</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -October 1950<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>It shone as a pin-point of silver far away in the midnight-blackness of -the cave. It shone as a tiny island of life in a sea of death. It shone -as a symbol of His mercy.</p> - -<p>Martin stood swaying, staring wide-eyed at that wonderful light and -letting its image sink deep into his vision. His eyes lidded as -consciousness faded for an instant, then opened.</p> - -<p>"We've almost made it," he gasped. "We've almost made it, Sandy, you -and me and the pup!"</p> - -<p>His hand passed tenderly over the puppy, a soft, hairy ball of living -warmth cradled in his arm. And from out of the darkness at his feet -came a feeble bark.</p> - -<p>Martin choked on the ancient, tomb-stale air. "We can't stop now, -Sandy," he wheezed. "We're almost there, almost at the entrance!"</p> - -<p>He shuffled forward over the cold stone floor of the little cave, the -thick, dead air a solid thing, a wall that pressed him back, back, back.</p> - -<p>But the light grew larger, expanding like a balloon, and suddenly -there was a skittering of dog-paws over stone and a joyous, frantic -barking.</p> - -<p>"That's right, Sandy, go ahead. Breathe that air, that fresh air!"</p> - -<p>Martin staggered once, his lean, tall body thudding against sharp rock -in the side of the cave. Then a draft of air blew cool and fresh into -his face, and a strength returned to him.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, he was at the source of the light, at the cave's entrance, a -hole barely large enough for him to squeeze through. The blinding light -of day fell upon him like a gigantic, crashing sea wave. He closed his -aching eyes and fell to the side of the rock-strewn hill, sucking the -clean sweet air deep into his lungs.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At length he sat up, holding the pup in his arms. "Two days in that -hole of hell," he murmured, "and it's all your fault. A month old, and -you have to start exploring caves."</p> - -<p>He cocked his head. "Still, I guess it's partly my fault. After all, I -got lost, too."</p> - -<p>Sandy, a black and white fox terrier, barked impatiently.</p> - -<p>"Okay, Sandy, okay. We'll go home."</p> - -<p>Shakily, Martin rose. His mind was clear now, the fogginess washed away -by the cool morning air. There was only hunger, that great gnawing -hunger, and thirst that made his throat and mouth seem as dry as -ancient parchment.</p> - -<p>As he stood overlooking the valley below with its green fields and -little groves of trees, a realization came to him. The world wasn't -so bad after all! Up to this moment, he'd almost hated the world -with its wars, its threats of mass destruction, its warnings of -atomic dusts and plagues that could wipe out humanity within an hour. -He'd most certainly hated the cities with their blaring, rumbling -automobile-monsters, with their mad rushing, their greedy, frantic, -senseless, superficial living that was really not living at all.</p> - -<p>That was why he had chosen to live in the hill country, on the -outskirts of the village, raising his few vegetables and making a trip -every few days to the village store to purchase other necessities with -his pension check from World War II.</p> - -<p>But now, he realized, it was good to be alive and to be a part of the -green, growing things of Earth.</p> - -<p>Sandy barked again.</p> - -<p>"Okay, okay, Sandy. We'll go."</p> - -<p>But Sandy came sidling up to him now, tail between his legs. His -barking faded to a low, shrill whimper.</p> - -<p>"Sandy! What's the matter? What's wrong?"</p> - -<p>Even the whimpering ceased, and there was silence. Martin stared at -the dog, not understanding. To him came a <i>feeling</i>. Something <i>was</i> -wrong. A nameless fear rose within him, but the cause of that fear was -intangible, locked just below the surface of consciousness.</p> - -<p>He took the fear, crushed it, pushed it back into the caverns of his -mind that held only forgotten things. "Nothing's wrong," he declared -boldly. "We're just tired and hungry, that's all."</p> - -<p>He strode down the quiet hillside toward the broad highway that -stretched across the valley. He sang:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"<i>We're happy, so happy,</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>Don't want to reach a star;</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>We're happy, always happy,</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>Just the way we are.</i>"</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Strange about that tune, he thought. He hated popular music, but in -a regrettable moment of optimism he'd once purchased a second-hand -battery video. After a three-day saturation with tooth paste and soap -commercials he'd consigned the monstrosity to a remote corner of the -woods, but that tune—of all the dubious products of civilization—had -somehow stuck in his memory.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he stopped singing, as if some inexplicable pressure had -seized his throat, stopping the flow of words. It was quiet—so -incredibly, alarmingly, terrifyingly quiet. Just ahead of him was the -highway, its gray smooth ribbon clearly visible through a thin wall of -elms. But there was no swish-swish of speeding cars.</p> - -<p>And there were no bird twitterings and no insect hummings and no -skitterings of squirrels at the bases of trees and no droning of -gyro-planes. There was only silence.</p> - -<p>He broke out onto the highway which was dotted with cars, and the cars -were motionless. Some of them were crushed, charred wrecks on the side -of the road; some had collided in the center of the road to become ugly -little mountains of twisted metal, and others were simply parked. But -all were motionless.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Sandy. Something's happened!"</p> - -<p>Sandy wouldn't come. He arched his trembling body across Martin's legs, -whimpering. Martin picked him up. Sandy in one arm, the drowsy-eyed pup -in the other, he walked to the nearest car, which appeared undamaged.</p> - -<p>There were three occupants. A man, a woman, a girl-child, and they were -as if sleeping. No wounds, no discolorations were on their flesh. But -their flesh was cold, cold, and there were no heart beats. They were -dead.</p> - -<p>"We—We won't go home yet," Martin said softly. "We'll go to the -village."</p> - -<p>He walked. He walked past a hundred, a thousand silent cars with silent -occupants, past green meadows that were dotted with silent, fallen -cattle and sheep and horses.</p> - -<p>There was a new fear within him now, but even greater than the fear was -a numbness that like a sleep-producing drug had dulled mind and vision -and hearing. He walked stiffly, automatically. He was afraid to think -and reason, for thought and reason could bring only—madness.</p> - -<p>"At the village we'll find out what happened," he mumbled.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>At the village he found out—nothing. Because there, too, was only a -silence and the white, still people.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps in the city—" he murmured. "Yes, the city."</p> - -<p>The City was 20 miles away, and he selected an automobile, one in which -there were no still people. It had been a long time since he'd driven, -nearly ten years, but after a few moments of fumbling, remembrance -came easily. With Sandy and the pup on the front seat beside him, he -drove....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The City was as empty as an ancient skull. There was no life and no -reminder of life. There were no still people and no automobiles and no -movement and no sound. The towering white office buildings, the broad -avenues, the theatres, the parks—all seemed hollow and unreal, like a -desert mirage that would dissolve into nothingness at the whispering -touch of a breeze.</p> - -<p>Martin mumbled, "I reckon, Sandy, that everybody left the City. They -headed for the country. That's why we passed so many cars."</p> - -<p>He spied the office of <i>The Times</i>. "Maybe we can find out something in -there," he said. "Come on, Sandy. Pup, you stay here."</p> - -<p>He parked the car and strode into the building, past desks, cabinets, -typewriters, stacked bundles of newspapers.</p> - -<p>Then he saw the man. He was one of the silent men, sprawled back in a -chair, a typewriter before him. He had been writing, evidently, for one -stiff, white hand was still poised over the keys.</p> - -<p>Martin read the typewritten words aloud:</p> - -<p>"The enemy had apparently underestimated the power of the odorless, -tasteless gas. A Nitrogen compound of extreme volutility, it has -reached virtually every inch of the Earth. The enemy is destroyed as we -are destroyed. Gas masks and air filters have proved useless. The gas -is highly unstable and should disintegrate within 48 hours, yet because -of the suddenness of the attack, we can conclude only that humanity -is—" The message broke off.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the newsroom was like a tomb, a burial of all mankind's -accomplishments and frustrations, his good-doings and evil-doings. Here -into this room had flowed, ceaseless as a river, the stories of man's -love, hate, struggle, fear, grasping, success, and disappointment. Side -by side they lay in the labyrinth of files, the stories of Mrs. Smith's -divorce and a dictator's defeat, the sagas of a child losing a pet and -a scientist discovering a star. All equal now, as skeletons of great -men and little men are equal, all buried in steel drawers and sealed by -silence.</p> - -<p>Martin looked at the stiffened figure of the reporter. "I wonder -why you stayed," he mused. "I wonder why you didn't flee like the -others. Maybe, maybe you wanted to write the <i>last</i> news story ever -written—and the most important one. Yes, I reckon that was it."</p> - -<p>Slowly, Martin walked out of the building and slid into the car. Sandy -welcomed him with a joy-filled barking and tail-wagging and tried to -lick his face, and the pup attempted to waddle across his legs.</p> - -<p>"No, Sandy, don't." He stared unseeingly through the windshield. -"Everybody's gone, Sandy, everybody on Earth, except me." His eyes -widened slightly. "Course, there <i>might</i> be somebody else, somewhere. -The gas never got to us in the cave. Maybe somebody else escaped, -somehow."</p> - -<p>He shook his head. "Nope, no use hoping for that. Odds'd be a thousand -to one 'gainst my finding 'em. No, we just got to make up our minds -that we're the last ones alive."</p> - -<p><i>The last ones alive.</i> The thought was like flame in his mind. The -numbness was gone now, as coldness thaws from a warmed body, but there -came to him a second thought, a horrible, fear-born thought which he -dared not say aloud, even to Sandy.</p> - -<p><i>A man can't live alone, without hearing another human voice, without -seeing another human form. A man isn't made that way. You've got two -choices now, just two: Suicide or madness. Which will it be? Suicide or -madness, suicide or madness....</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He sat for a long, long time, his mind a jumble of indecision. Then at -last he thought, <i>I don't want to go mad, the other way is best. We'll -make it easy. Carbon monoxide would be the easiest way.</i></p> - -<p>But suddenly there was a churning and a twisting in his stomach, as -though it were being squeezed by a giant hand.</p> - -<p>"Golly, Sandy, we forgot to eat. And we haven't eaten for two days." -And to himself he said, <i>This'll be our last meal, the last we'll ever -have.</i></p> - -<p>He took the pup in his arms and Sandy followed. He spied a huge sign -not far away—<i>Cafe Royale</i>. It was a magnificent restaurant, the -carpeted, canopied entrance reminding him of the front of a sultan's -palace. Three days ago—if he'd been foolish enough to come to the City -then—he'd have rushed past it with his hand protecting his pocketbook, -hardly daring to look within lest the stiff-shirted, high-chinned -waiters and patrons think him a country bumpkin.</p> - -<p>But now—well, why not?</p> - -<p>He ambled through the vast dining hall with its multitude of -white-clothed tables, its potted palms, its modernistic, chromium bar. -The high walls were decorated with soft-hued, multi-colored murals -depicting the rise of Western Civilization—first, the pioneers, the -cowboys, then a factory scene and a war scene, and finally a group of -spacemen entering a moon-bound rocket.</p> - -<p>Martin made a wheezing sound of admiration. "What a place, eh, Sandy? -We should have come here a long time ago."</p> - -<p>Then he spied the juke box. "There's one of them music machines—and -it's lit up. Reckon the power's still on."</p> - -<p>Martin had always wanted to play a juke box, but nickels, back home, -were scarce. He pursed his lips. "Why not, Sandy? Nickels don't mean -much now, and if this is going to be our last meal, we might as well -enjoy it."</p> - -<p>He inserted a quarter, and after a few moments of pushing this and -that button, music played. It was "Song of The Stars," the latest -hit, vibrant, full, rhythmic—not at all like the screeching from the -second-hand video he'd owned once.</p> - -<p>While he listened, he strode to the bar. Not that he was a drinking -man. He occasionally had a cold beer on Saturday evening; that was -all. But now, with that dazzling array of bottles glittering before -him—"Nobody'll miss it now," he told Sandy.</p> - -<p>He poured himself three fingers of Scotch and downed it thirstily. -"Ahhhh! Been a long time since I had anything like that. Now let's see -what's in that kitchen."</p> - -<p>Electricity was still on. Refrigerators were humming, and Martin's gaze -wandered appraisingly over red, juicy T-bones, over dressed chickens, -turkeys, rabbits, hams.</p> - -<p>"Reckon we're too hungry to wait for chicken," he drawled. "Guess -T-bones'd be nice for a last meal. How about it, Sandy?"</p> - -<p>Sandy barked.</p> - -<p>Dinner was soon ready. Fried T-bone, mashed potatoes and dark -gravy, caviar, some kind of soup with a fishy taste, apple pie with -strawberry ice cream, chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, maple nut, -tuiti-fruiti and pineapple ice cream, and coffee.</p> - -<p>Martin settled back and puffed on a 50c cigar. "You know, Sandy, it -wouldn't always be like this. In a couple of weeks there won't be any -more power. Food will spoil, there'll be only canned stuff."</p> - -<p>He frowned thoughtfully. Perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps suicide was -not the best way. He could have a few pleasures in the next day or -two—if madness didn't come. And if madness did start to come, well....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was a sleek, streamlined jet job, the automobile of automobiles. Not -an antiquated monstrosity like the '51 coupe he'd been driving.</p> - -<p>He stared through the window at its tear-drop lines, at its broad, -transparent top, at the shiny chrome and gold.</p> - -<p>"We shouldn't be thinking about such things, Sandy. We should be -thinking about all those people, those poor people who died. All the -men and women and children—"</p> - -<p>For an instant, grief welled up within him, a cold, almost sickening -grief. But abruptly, it became an impersonal, remote kind of grief. -It was like a Fourth of July rocket shooting out a blinding tail of -crimson and then bursting, its body crumbling into a thousand pieces, a -thousand tiny sparks falling and fading and dying.</p> - -<p>"Still, they knew it was coming, didn't they, Sandy? And they didn't -try very hard to stop it."</p> - -<p>He looked again at the car. "Reckon it won't do any harm to see how it -runs. After all, if we're goin' mad, we might as well enjoy ourselves -first."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The window display in the sport shop fascinated him. There were guns -and fishing rods and fur-lined jackets and shiny boots and bright -woolen shirts and sun goggles and camp stoves and—</p> - -<p>"Don't reckon the guns'd do us much good," Martin murmured, "seein' as -how there's nothing left alive—'cept us. Might be fun to shoot 'em -though. I remember when I was a kid, how I used to shoot windows out of -old houses." He chuckled softly.</p> - -<p>His gaze traveled to the fishing equipment. "Golly, Sandy, I'll bet -there's fish left in the oceans! The gas never touched us there in the -cave. I'll bet the fish—or a lot of 'em—escaped, too!"</p> - -<p>He glanced disapprovingly at his thin, faded shirt, dirty khaki -trousers, and worn, scuffed shoes. Those clean, bright, woolen clothes -in the window would be nice, very nice, on cool nights.</p> - -<p>"Might even have dog clothes in there," he said. "Maybe a dog sweater. -How'd you like that, Sandy?"</p> - -<p>Sandy barked eagerly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He squatted on the floor of the travel office, surrounded by a sea -of crisp, gaudy-colored posters and pamphlets. What a place this old -Earth was! The pyramids of Egypt, the Tower of London, the Washington -Monument, the Florida Everglades, the Arch of Triumph, the Eiffel -Tower, Yosemite Valley, Boulder Dam, the Wall of China, Yellowstone -Park, Suez Canal, Panama Canal, Niagara. Why, it would take a lifetime -to see them all!</p> - -<p>"You know, Sandy, if a man <i>didn't</i> go mad from being alone, he could -see a lot of things. He could travel anywhere on this continent in a -car. If something went wrong, he could get parts out of other cars, -get gas out of other tanks. There's plenty of canned food everywhere, -'nough to last a lifetime—a dozen lifetimes. Why, he could walk right -into Washington, right into the White House and see how the President -lived, or go to Hollywood and see how they used to make pictures, or -go to them telescope places and look at the stars. Course, there'd be -bodies almost everywhere, but in a year or so they'd be gone, all 'cept -the bones which never hurt nobody."</p> - -<p>He scratched his neck thoughtfully. "Why, you wouldn't have to stay on -this continent even. You could find a little boat and sail up the coast -to Alaska and then cut across to Asia. It's only fifty miles, they say. -And then you could go down to China and India and Africa and Europe. -Why, a man could go any place in the world alone!"</p> - -<p>Sandy began to lick his face and the pup released a nervous, eager bark -that was more like "Yip! Yip!" than a bark.</p> - -<p>"That's right, Sandy. I'm not alone, am I? No more than I ever was, -really. Never liked to talk to people anyway. You're only two years -old, you'll live for ten, maybe twelve years yet, you and the pup. -Maybe longer than I will."</p> - -<p>He rose, frowning. It was strange. There was a grief and a loneliness -within him and he knew they would be within him forever. But, too, -there was an ever-growing peace and contentment and a satisfaction, and -a sense of still belonging to Earth and being a part of it. Strangest -of all, he realized that there was no madness in his mind and no seed -of madness. He felt like a boy again, about to begin a wondrous journey -through unexplored and enchanted lands to discover new marvels.</p> - -<p>He left the travel office, Sandy and the pup barking and clammering at -his heels, and he was singing:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"<i>We're happy, so happy,</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>Don't want to reach a star;</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>We're happy, always happy,</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>Just the way we are....</i>"</div> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INHERITANCE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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