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diff --git a/old/67602-0.txt b/old/67602-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1700512..0000000 --- a/old/67602-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1458 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Big Fix, by Richard Wilson - -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: The Big Fix - -Author: Richard Wilson - -Illustrator: ENGLE - -Release Date: March 10, 2022 [eBook #67602] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIG FIX *** - - - - - - The Big Fix! - - By RICHARD WILSON - - Illustrated by ENGLE - - As a drug, uru was a junkie's dream. - As a planet, Uru was paradise. But - combined, the two became a living hell! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Infinity Science Fiction, August 1956. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - "_I read about a drug called_ yage.... _Maybe I will find in_ yage - _what I was looking for in junk and weed and coke._ Yage _may be - the final fix_."--William Lee, _Junkie_. - -I was meeting The Man in a cafeteria on West End Avenue--the rundown -part of the avenue south of 72nd Street where all the garages and auto -parts places are. - -I didn't need a fix. I'd been off the junk for three months and I was -all right. I was drinking a lot, but that was all. - -The meet in the cafeteria was set up by an old connection of mine who'd -heard I was interested in this new stuff. My connection's name was -Rollo, sometimes called Rollo the Roller because he rolled lushes in -the subway. - -Rollo and I had coffee while we waited for The Man. - -"He's a funny one," Rollo said. "Not like any other pusher I ever dig." - -"You sure he's straight?" I asked. "He wouldn't be one of The People, -would he?" - -"Nah, he's no agent. Don't you think I can make a cop or a Federal by -now?" - -"All right. I wasn't trying to insult you." - -We sipped our coffee and talked in low voices. The cafeteria wasn't a -regular joint. It might be in time, and then it would be one till it -got too hot, but it wasn't now. - -I didn't see the guy come in. The first thing I knew he was standing -at the table over us. Tall, wearing a black suit like an undertaker -or a preacher, but with a dark blue shirt and a white tie. He had a -young-old face and his skin was a light tan. Not the tan you get at -Miami Beach or from a sun lamp, but as if he had Chinese or Malay blood -in him somewhere. - -Rollo jumped a little when he noticed him at his elbow. - -"Oh, hello, Jones. Creepin' up on people again. Sit down. This is -Barry." - -I acknowledged the introduction. I was sure Jones wasn't his real name -any more than Barry was mine. I asked him if I could buy him a cup of -coffee and he said _no_, and then Rollo left. Rollo'd mumbled something -about business, but I got the feeling he didn't like being around Jones -any more than he had to. - -"I understand you are interested in my product," Jones said. He had -dark brown eyes, almost black. He didn't talk like a pusher, but you -can't always make generalizations. - -"I don't want to score any," I said. "At least not right now. I'm off -the stuff, but I take a sort of philosophical interest in it, you might -say." - -"I could not sell you any at the moment, in any case," Jones said. "I -do not make a practice of carrying it on my person." - -"Of course not. But what is it? Rollo tells me it's not the usual junk. -I wondered if maybe it was _yage_." - -_Yage_ was something you kept hearing about but never saw yourself. It -was always somebody who knew somebody else who'd tried it. _Yage_ was -the junkie's dream. You never caught up with it, but you heard hints -in conversation. - -An addict would give himself a fix of Henry, sliding the needle -into the vein, and later, as his tension relaxed, he'd say to his -connection, "I hear _yage_ is the real kick--they tell me that compared -to _yage_, heroin is the least." And the connection would say, "That's -what they tell me, but I never seen any of it myself. They have it in -the Amazon or someplace, I hear." - -It's always hearsay. But after a while you hear so much about it that -you believe it's got to be around somewhere, so you keep asking. I -asked Jones. - -"I could show you _yage_," Jones said, and I felt a tingle, like a kid -promised his first kiss. "But it would disappoint you." - -"Why?" - -"It is like _peyote_--just another herb. It has a similar effect to -that of the Mescal cactus button, but since you would not seem to be a -devotee of the Sun Dance I do not think it would interest you." - -I went into a slump again when I heard him run down _yage_. I knew what -_peyote_ was. It might be all right for Indians, but it just made the -average junkie sick to his stomach. - -"What would interest me, then?" I asked him. - -"I have a certain amount of a substance called _uru_," he said. "It -is--and I do not exaggerate when I say this--the most." - -I couldn't help grinning. Jones had been speaking the store-bought -English of the educated foreigner and then he came out with this hep -expression. - -"Tell me more, professor," I said. "You're ringing my bell." - -"You tell _me_ more, my friend," he came back. "What is your great -interest in this will-o'-the-wisp _yage_ that so excites you, although -you claim to be 'off the stuff'?" - -I could almost hear the quotation marks he put around the phrase. - -"Okay," I said. "I'll tell you." - -So I went into the crazy old dream--the feeling that there's something -better someplace, something you can take or leave alone, that doesn't -leave you with that wrung-out, hopeless horror of junk sickness when -you can't get the stuff. - -I told him about the other addicts--how they feel this kinship that's -not like any other relationship anywhere--how you have that exalted -feeling of mingled hope and despair when another junkie is coming with -a fix for you--and how by just drifting around in a strange city you -find yourself drawn to the right district to score the stuff. How it's -almost telepathic. - -I told him what they said about _yage_, that some South American -croaker had isolated from it a fix he called telepathine. How it was -supposed to be some kind of miracle dope that you could take when you -wanted it without actually _needing_ it, and it would open up the world -for you so you'd be close, really close, to others like you. So your -mind would be their mind. A union more terrific than any other kind--as -far beyond even the ideal sexual climax, for instance, as sex is beyond -a bow or a handshake. So there'd be a togetherness you couldn't achieve -any other way. So you wouldn't be so ... alone. - -I felt embarrassed after talking like that, even though Jones listened -as sympathetically as anybody could, so I got up to get another cup of -coffee at the counter. - -"Okay," I said defensively as I spooned in the sugar. "I've told you -about me. Now what about that stuff of yours--what do you call it -again?" - -"_Uru_," he said. "It is what _yage_ is said to be, but is not. You -would like it. But you tell me you are 'off the stuff'." - -"Off the old stuff. It's no good and I've licked it. Off with the old," -I said, beginning to feel a little high already, "and on with the new. -_Uru_, eh?" - -This might be it. The most. The big fix. I had to have it. - -"You shall try it," Jones said. "You shall judge for yourself. Then if -you want more I will provide it for you. There will be no charge." - -Right away I got suspicious. Nobody gives anything away. It could be a -come-on. Jones might figure I'd like it so much I'd have to have more -and then I'd pay and pay. But on the other hand maybe he figured wrong. -Nothing is habit-forming once. I didn't know anything about this _uru_, -but I knew all there was to know about everything else. - -"Okay," I said. "When?" - -"I will call you," Jones said. - -I gave him my number. - - * * * * * - -He had a place on East 45th, a ratty old brownstone. It didn't look -as if he'd lived in it long. But that was to be expected; if you were -a pusher you had to keep on the move. After a while a landlady got -suspicious about all the queer characters visiting this one guy and the -next step was the cops. - -Jones had called me the day after our talk in the cafeteria, setting -up a meet for that afternoon. I'd had a dream about _uru_, a wild -and wonderful dream that made it impossible for me not to go. I'm a -hunch-player, anyway. So I went. - -But I was cautious enough to leave my money home and not to wear -my best clothes. Then if it turned out that Jones was pulling a -lush-worker switch, feeding junkies a knockout fix and rolling them, I -wouldn't lose much. - -He was wearing the same black suit. His closet door was open and I -could see that there were no clothes hanging in it. Maybe he hadn't -unpacked yet, though I didn't see a suitcase anywhere. - -I didn't think much about these things at the time. Jones smiled and -shook hands with me. Then he excused himself and went out into the -hall. So far so good. No smart pusher keeps the stuff in his room. -Possession carries a stiff rap. - -I had my works with me--needle and eye-dropper--but Jones told me I -wouldn't need it. I was surprised. If his place wasn't a shooting -gallery, what was it? A weed joint? Weed was no good--that was fag -stuff. Marijuana, bennies, goof balls, nembies--that stuff was nowhere -for a cat who'd been mainlining it for a decade. I told that to Jones. - -He smiled and told me to relax. He meant it literally. - -"Lie down on the bed," he said. "Take your coat off. No, don't roll up -your sleeve." - -He pulled down a blue shade over the single window and the room got -dim. Sunlight squeezed through the cracks at the edges and made -shimmering little patterns on the walls and ceiling. - -He took a cigaret holder out of his pocket. It was green, like jade, -and carved around its fat middle was a design of some kind. I couldn't -make it out, even when I held it in my hand. - -Jones put a cigaret in the holder. It looked like an ordinary king-size -smoke and I told him so. - -"That is correct," he said. "It is not the cigaret that provides the -effect, but the _uru_ in the holder. The smoke travels over the _uru_ -and activates it. Enough of it is absorbed by the warm smoke for the -desired result. Do not inhale too deeply the first time." - -I took a short drag, half suspecting he was conning me. Nothing -happened right away. It didn't taste any different from any cigaret -smoked through a holder. I took another drag, deeper this time. - -I was off. - -I became a tiny replica of myself, swimming effortlessly within my own -eyeball, looking down the length of that other me lying on the bed. -My feet looked a mile away. I moved them and it seemed to take almost -a minute for the impulse to communicate itself from my mind along the -vast body. - -Then I lost interest in my body as the flecks of sunlight on the -ceiling became tiny planets, whirling in perfect, intricate orbits -around a fiery blue-white sun. - -The smoke in the room climbed up in a graceful dance and became a -dust-cloud in the sparkling solar system. The dark head of Jones -came into view among the tiny worlds, not obscuring them. The little -jewel-like planets were a shimmering crown hovering about him. - -He spoke then, and his words echoed to me as if through the vastness of -infinity itself. - -"Barry," the voice said, powerful but warm, far away but deliciously -close, awesome but comfortable. "Barry, my good friend." - -I could see the great face, both with my real eyes and with the eyes -of that tiny other me swimming within. It was a mighty face, but -reassuring--the face of a kind father and loving wife and adoring son -all in one. The face was smiling, a dear familiar smile. - -But the lips were not moving. The voice was that of a mind, reaching -out through vastness and into my own thoughts. - -"You are not alone," the mind-voice said, and it was what I had been -waiting to hear. "You are one with all good things. The door you have -been seeking is open. You have only to walk through." - -I had been swimming, but now I walked. It was like no other kind of -walking. It was like ice-skating in a way, a smooth, effortless glide. -The tiny me walked, glided, out of my body and up, up in a curl of -smoke, across a million miles of blackness toward the shimmering worlds. - -"I found the door," I thought, and knew the words were being -communicated to him. "I thank you and I am walking through. It is a -beautiful world you have. It sparkles so. I love it." - -I could say these things to him with my mind, meaning them, unashamed -of the innermost feelings that would have been throttled off unspoken -if I'd had to use the vulgarity of speech. - -He understood that, too, and his smile became warmer. There was a bond -here I'd never experienced, a warm gushing of myself to him and to this -world he'd opened for me. The warmth was reciprocated instantly. His -face showed it, his mind told me and the glittering worlds seemed to -join in his message of esteem and one-ness. - -There was more; but later I couldn't remember it all. The beauty of a -thing can't be recreated in its absence. Only the memory of it lingers. -But the memory of an exalted experience has a beauty of its own. - -After a while I came back. Back to my gross self lying on the bed, the -jade-green cigaret holder in my fingers, a long ash on the end of the -cigaret. So I had been away only a minute or two in our time. It had -seemed hours in his. - -Gradually the sparkling worlds reverted to patches of sunlight and the -dust-cloud to tobacco smoke. - -Jones stood near the bed. Gently he took the holder from my fingers and -snuffed out the cigaret in the ashtray. - -"You are pleased," he said, speaking with his voice now. "You have told -me that." - -"Yes," I said. "Oh, yes." I wanted to say much more, but the inhibition -of speech was on me now. - -"I understand. Do not talk. You are still too close to it. The change -is too great. But some of it remains with you, does it not?" - -I nodded. It did. There was no great letdown. No harsh awakening to the -detested world of everyday. It must have been because I carried over -with me enough of the memory to cushion the shock of adjustment. I sat -up. I felt fine. - -"You have had only a glimpse," he said. "You must go now. But perhaps -you will come back?" - -"Please," I said. - -"Of course. I will call you." - -He helped me on with my coat. I went down the stairs and out into the -sunlight. - - * * * * * - -Jones didn't call for days. I hardly left my room, waiting for the -phone to ring. Once I walked over toward 45th Street, but I turned -back before I got there. Jones had said he'd call me and I didn't want -to get him angry with me. - -Rollo came over to my place one night. He had some junk left over from -scoring and offered me a fix. I didn't want it. - -"Still off the stuff?" he asked. - -"Off that stuff," I said. "That stuff is nowhere." - -"You sound like you're somewhere else. Did The Man make it for you on -the _yage_ kick?" - -"_Yage's_ over the rainbow," I told him. "_Uru_ is here and now." - -"_Uru._ Is that what Jones serves? Never heard of it. Mind if I shoot a -little old-fashioned horse here? I got trouble finding a vein lately. -Maybe you'll help me." - -He rolled up his sleeve and took out his equipment. He tied a -handkerchief around his arm to make the veins stand out and I helped -him locate one. I cooked up the stuff and shot it home for him. He -cleaned out the needle under the faucet and we sat down and had -cigarets. - -"So tell me about this _uru_," Rollo said. - -"It's truly the most, man," I said. - -But I couldn't go on. Rollo was a lush-worker, a cheap hood. I'd feel -self-conscious trying to describe how it was. Telling him would be like -dirtying it up. So I generalized. - -"It's a real bang," I said. "A speedball with a jet assist. It's gone, -brother. It takes you there, but _there_." - -"You sound like a teahead," he said. "Is that what it is, tea?" - -So I told him that was about right and he went away feeling superior. -He used the white stuff and I was only a viper. So he thought. Let him -think what he wanted. I'd been with it; I knew, and that was enough. It -was like being one of the elite. - -The phone rang and sweat came out in my palms as I picked it up. - -It was Jones, asking if I wanted to travel with him again. - -Travel. That was a new one. But it certainly described it. I told him -yes, trying not to let him know how eager I was. But I had the feeling -he understood, even over the phone. And it didn't matter. I didn't have -anything to hide from him. He was my friend. - -I went over to his place, prepared to travel. - - * * * * * - -It was the same thing again, to start with. The cigaret in the -jade-green holder and lying down on the bed and relaxing. - -But this time I seemed to reach the glittering worlds a lot sooner. -Then one of the worlds spun closer. It loomed bigger and its surface -separated into oceans and continents. Unfamiliar ones. - -There was a rushing, roaring sensation as I turned over and over, and -then I was walking along a lane in a peaceful countryside, with Jones -beside me. - -"Do you like it?" he asked, without speaking the words. - -My mind answered, "It's beautiful. This isn't our world." - -"This is Uru," he said. "It is my world." - -Then I noticed that he wasn't dressed the same. Instead of the black -suit and the blue shirt and white tie, he was wearing knee-length -shorts, blue, topped by a wide belt of metallic-looking leather. He -wore a thin circlet of the same material around his head. It held in -the center of his forehead a heraldic device, as if it were a mark of -rank. Except for sandals he wore nothing else. His body was a light tan. - -I noticed then that I was dressed similarly, except that there was no -circlet around my head. - -We went by a field under cultivation. A few people were among the rows, -working easily, chatting and laughing. They waved as we passed. There -was a mental exchange of greetings between them and Jones which I also -heard. - -We walked effortlessly, even uphill. The gravity seemed less than on -Earth. The air was clean and invigorating. It was warm but not humid. - -A blue-white sun was in the sky. I could look at it without hurting my -eyes. It was larger, apparently closer, than Earth's sun, and I thought -I could make out markings on it. Were they the same as those on the -oval Jones wore on his forehead? I could not be sure. - -We were coming to a city, or a big town. - -"Urula," Jones told me. "Our capital." - -He had been out of communication with me since we passed the people in -the field, though I felt that my thoughts were being transmitted to -him. It was as if he knew all my thoughts but permitted me to know his -only when he wished. Or it might have been that I was so engrossed in -my new experience that he had let me enjoy it without interfering, by -keeping his thoughts neutral. - -"Where is Uru?" I asked then. - -He showed me a mind-picture so vast I could not fully comprehend it. -He showed me the sky of Earth, with the moon low on the horizon. Then -up beyond the moon, so that the Earth was in eclipse behind it. Then -farther still, and the mighty sun faded into insignificance among other -stars. - -I was whirled around in the opposite direction and rushed through -space as the stars ran together and melted into a shivering puddle of -luminescence which instantly flew apart into stars again, leaving one -of them closer than the others. It grew in size, became blue-white, and -five planets came into view, circling it in precision, equal distances -away. - -One of the planets began to swell and again I saw the continents and -oceans of Uru and was whisked to its surface, and again I was walking -along the lane toward the city. - -"It is far, you see," Jones told me. - -I nodded, dazed. - -The city, Urula, was impeccably clean. It had a feeling of openness -about it; it didn't close in and tower over you like Earth cities. - -The streets were wide and landscaped with shrubs and trees. The walks -were of turf and the lush trimmed grass provided a pleasant cushion for -the feet. The buildings were low and rambling, set well back from the -walks. There was no lack of room to force them up into the air beyond a -story or two. - -People passed us occasionally, never in crowds, radiating cordiality as -they nodded to Jones and me. Other people lounged idly on benches or on -the lawns in front of the buildings. I couldn't tell whether they were -homes or business offices, or a combination of both. - -I looked in vain for factories, for ugly smokestacks thrusting into -the clean sky. Nor were there any automobiles, railroads or machines of -any kind to foul the air with their exhausts or rend it with their din. - -I asked a mental question and Jones said they had none of these things -simply because they weren't needed. If one wanted to go somewhere he -walked. There was no exertion and there was never any hurry. As for -traveling to another city, there was no need to; one city was exactly -like another. Each was self-sufficient and there was no trade among -them. If one wished to see a friend in another city, why, the journey -was a pleasant one, and since it was a pleasure trip it didn't matter -whether the journey took a day or thirty days. - -Because there were no factories or railroad yards there were no slums -where people lived a marginal existence between the animal and human -levels. - -We turned off the main street and up a wide path to a building set back -under tall shade trees. - -"My home," Jones said. - - * * * * * - -We sat on the broad porch and a servant appeared, carrying delicate -bowls on a tray. The bowls, cool to the touch, held a dark liquid that -was better than any good thing I had ever drunk, without being in any -way recognizable. - -I sent a thought of thanks to the servant, an old white-haired man -with a lighter skin than Jones', but he did not reciprocate it. For -an instant, when the old man was facing me with his back to Jones, I -caught a curious expression in his eyes, a combination of warning and -beseeching. There was also the beginning of a message, I felt, but -instantly it was swept away and Jones' thoughts came. - -"You are wondering why we went so far in our star journey--from Uru to -Earth." - -I had wondered about that earlier, when Jones showed me the -mind-picture of the vast rushing through space. - -"Yes," I said, and the old servant, his face impassive again, trudged -back into the house. - -Jones showed me another picture of travels from Uru to the other four -worlds of Uru's blue-white sun. I could not make out the type of craft, -if a craft was used. The older worlds seemed the same, but death was on -them. Man could never live there, Jones showed me, because of poisonous -atmosphere, or unstable boiling land, or forbidding ice-locked -vastness, or impenetrable fog. Only Uru, of the five, had evolved in a -way harmonious to man. - -Then I traveled with him farther from Uru's sun to other suns and -explored their planets. But they held only desolation and potential -death for a colonizer. Again the stars ran together in that glittering -display of luminescence that I was allowed to understand now was the -effect of crashing through the barrier of hyperspace. Only then did -Earth's sun come into view. And then her planets. And then Earth -herself. - -I felt a foreboding now and tried to communicate it to my companion, -but Earth came inevitably closer. - -A moment later I was again in Jones' dingy room, lying on his bed with -the jade-green cigaret holder in my fingers. - -I felt cheated and frustrated. - -I tried to take another puff, to return to Uru, but Jones took away the -holder. - -"I am sorry," he said, "but only so much time is permitted for your -visits--unless you decide to join us permanently." - -This was new. I hadn't even considered the possibility. I suppose -I'd been thinking of these _uru_ smokes as nothing more than pipe -dreams--exciting and logical, even consecutive, but still only figments -of the poppy ember. - -But apparently _uru_ was merely the key that opened the door to the -real world for which it was named, a finite and beautiful planet -spinning in a vastly distant galaxy at the other side of the spacial -barrier. A world that Earthmen would never reach in this lifetime -without the invitation and assistance of a native of that world who -had developed mental powers beyond our comprehension. - -And Jones, not only a native but apparently a noble of Uru, was -extending that invitation to me. - -Me, a dope addict, temporarily between kicks. Me, a dreg of humanity. - -Why? - -Jones was following my thoughts, I knew, but he only smiled and -said I would have to leave. He would call me again. In the meantime -I must consider his invitation. He had not made it frivolously, -but had weighed all factors. If I accepted, it would have to be -unquestioningly, trusting him as my brother. - -And it would be permanent. Once I chose Uru, there would be no -returning to Earth. - -"Until we meet again," he said. - -I walked out into the street, pondering my choice. - - * * * * * - -My place depressed me. - -I poured myself half a tumbler of whiskey and walked around, holding -the drink in my hand. I opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom -and looked at my works--the hypo, the eye-dropper and the old spoon, -blackened on the bottom, in which I'd cooked so many batches of heroin. -Sooner or later I'd go back to it, I knew, even though I kidded myself -into thinking I might be off the stuff for good. - -Then the old round would begin again. The frantic search for a pusher -when my supply ran low. Setting up a meet in some cafeteria or lunch -counter to get the stuff. Rushing back to my place, with every stranger -looking like a copper ready to tap me. The search in my poor scarred -arm for a vein that hadn't withdrawn out of sight. Maybe even the -necessity for a messy skin injection. The fleeting relief. - -And then the anxiety of no money. A dirty job, possibly washing -dishes in some greasy kitchen if the heat was on. Or risking a -stint of lush-working in the subway, haunted by copper jitters and -five-twenty-nine--five months and twenty-nine days in the workhouse--if -they nabbed me "jostling" a drunk. - -I couldn't go back to that life. I couldn't--but I would. I always -had. You reach a point where you can't change any more. It's too -late--you're too old--you don't know anything else--you've got no -connections outside the squalid circle of users, pushers, teaheads, -queers and petty crooks who are nowhere and never will be anywhere. - -It was a limbo, a hell on Earth. - -I swallowed my drink in burning gulps. - -But Uru was paradise. And through Jones--The Man--the archangel?--I -could achieve it. All I had to do was make up my mind. - -But why had he chosen me to make the trip with him, past the place -where the stars melted together in the speed of our journey through -mental space, to the planet that was named for a drug or gave its name -to a drug? - -Since _uru_ was a drug maybe it was only natural that Jones' first -contact would be with users of narcotics. The natives an explorer first -meets in a new land are not necessarily people of the highest class. He -meets the adventurers, the ones with spirit enough to canoe out to meet -his ship. - -So with Jones, perhaps. He would meet the others eventually--the -normal, respectable people to whom we users were a despised, hunted -minority. And when he had met the normal people, and through them -Earth's leaders, it was possible he would have no further use for me -and my kind. It was more than possible; it stood to reason. - -If that was the case I had better grab my chance while I could--while -Jones still thought of me as his brother. - -He had already bypassed one level of our outcast society--the stratum -typified by Rollo, habitual user and cheap crook--to reach me. I didn't -have to flatter myself to know I was better than Rollo and his kind. -I'd had some education, I avoided crime except when necessary, and I -had the will power to quit the stuff at least occasionally. - -Was this mere rationalization? I didn't think so. But whatever it was -I would do well to accept Jones' offer without further demur and give -up Earth for life on Uru. I could start out fresh there, make a clean -break with my sordid past, and live the life of serenity and good will -he had shown me. - -I made my decision. - -The telephone rang and I knew before I picked it up that it was Jones -calling. - -"I know your choice, my brother," he said, "and I am pleased. We will -travel immediately." - -A great joy surged through me. Here was the Messiah to deliver me from -the slavery of my Earthbound existence to the paradise of Uru. - -"I'm on my way!" I cried. I shut the door of my squalid room without a -backward glance or a moment of regret. - - * * * * * - -Life was even more beautiful in Urula than I had dared hope. I had -my own home and a man-servant. I ate the finest foods, drank choice -liquors. - -I learned the written language and read the great literature of Uru. - -I met the charming, intelligent, nubile women of the society that had -adopted me. - -I also practiced the Sport of Uru, in which Jones was my teacher. I -called him Joro now; that was his real name, and my name had become -Boru. - -As Boru I was something of a celebrity in my adopted world. When I went -to the great gamesward, for the Sport, they cheered and often crowded -around to press gifts on me. - -Oh, I was well regarded. I had been assimilated. I, Boru. Boru the -Fighting Man. - - * * * * * - -Twice I had engaged in hand-to-hand combat, as Joro's Fighting Man, in -the Annual Sport--the wars between the cities. Twice I had fought, and -now one contest remained. - -I had a long ugly scar on the inside of my right arm. My left foot was -prosthetic from the calf down. My right eye was gone; I wore a false -one next to the cheekbone that had been restored by a series of grafts. -Flesh healed quickly and bone knitted fast in Uru. The Uru doctors -could heal anyone who lived. - -But they could not heal the dead and there was no quarter in the Sport. -I expected none for myself as I had given none to the two men I had -killed. Two down and one to go. If I won the third I'd be a noble like -Joro, my patron, my fighting days over. If I didn't I'd be dead. - -Joro had started me out in the back rank, where the danger was least. -But I moved up fast, and fought. - -Again I was in the back rank, because of my old wounds--but I knew I'd -move up this time, too, though there were two good men ahead of me. -Like me they were Joro's men, each of us equipped for the Sport. - -The equipment: - - Steel-claw appendages on our hands. - - Feet shod in hooves, sharpened to razor-edge. - - Teeth fitted with fangs. - -A diagram explained the pattern of battle better--U for Urula, T for -Tara. Us against Them, even as in Madison Square Garden or the San -Francisco Cow Palace: - - T T T T T - T T T T T - T T T T T - U U U U U - U U U U U - U U U U U - -Joro's men were in the file at the extreme right. I, Boru, was in the -southeast corner, standing in the crowded arena naked except for armor -at my loins and the fearful appendages of hand, foot and mouth. - -At last the ceremonial speeches and blessings were over. Joro took his -place to our rear, on a high seat, our coach and our mentor. There was -a clang of great cymbals and the battle was joined. - -I watched tensely as the first man in my file advanced to meet his -opponent in the Circle of Death. To their left, in the other four -circles, similar battles were taking place, but I had eyes only for the -struggle in my own file. - -Rans, our lead-off man, was down! Before he could recover, his opponent -had slashed his neck with a razored hoof and Rans was dead. - -Rans was dragged off and our file moved up, as the other battles -continued. Now the man ahead of me, Karn, was in the Circle of Death -with Rans' killer. Karn of Karna, whose planet was as far from Uru as -my own and who, fleeing Karna's law when Joro found him, had been as -glad to come as I had been. And poor dead Rans, from still a third -world among the galaxies that Joro had explored to recruit his Fighting -Men. - -Karn, toe to toe with his tiring opponent, feinted and enticed his man -to lunge. Karn sidestepped and his steel claws raked the other from -neck to waist. A pivot then, a well-placed kick and Karn alone still -lived in the Circle of Death. - -The blood had sickened me a little. I turned to Joro, sitting high -behind me, his glance darting from one circle to another. Joro's face -reflected his swiftly-changing emotions. He was fighting five battles -at once, vicariously, directing his men by concentration of will. His -thoughts flicked to mine for an instant. - -_Courage, Boru! The game goes well!_ - -And so it did. There was a roar from the crowd as Karn won again. Now -only one of the enemy remained in our file. When he was disposed of our -job would be done for another year--and mine forever. - -But Karn was weary and his opponent fresh. Clumsily Karn tried a slash -at the other's eyes. The other dodged and struck, his fanged teeth -closing on Karn's wrist. A wrench, and Karn stood dazed, his arm -hanging loose while blood gushed over his steel claws. Then a quick -horrible thrust and Karn was down, dying slowly. - -Another great roar came from the crowd and I saw that the battles in -the other files had ended. Joro's men had won two and lost two. It was -in my file that the Sport would be decided. It was no longer us against -them. It was the most primitive of all contests--him or me. - -I had a moment to look out across the gamesward as they removed poor -lifeless Karn. Festive pennants flew. The blue-white sun was high, -serene in a cloudless sky. The field was green and soothing, except in -the blood-stained Circles of Death. - -In two of the circles stood Joro's men, proud in victory. In two others -stood victorious men of Tara. In the fifth stood the man who had killed -Karn--the man I must kill if I was to live. - - * * * * * - -The crowd was in a frenzy, the blood lust on them now. I understood for -the first time the purpose of the Sport. It was a purge of emotion. - -Once a year the thousands gathered in the cities and satisfied their -primitive instincts. They were more than spectators: they were -vicarious participants in each battle. Their telepathy identified them -completely with the Fighting Men of their city. - -Their empathy was such that they felt every blow, exulted in animal -passion when their fighter retaliated and drew blood. In the course -of an afternoon all their base instincts were satisfied. They knew -violence, pain, triumph, death. - -It was an orgy of absolution that ended with a maximum of fifteen -deaths a year, instead of the thousands or hundreds of thousands that -would occur on the battlefields if they themselves fought. - -It was a solution to war, this Annual Sport. Only then did I realize it -fully. Besides purging the emotions, it was a way of settling disputes -that were matters of honor transcending the courts. Once a year the -disputes were settled on the gamesward, the miniature battleground, -a concentration of blood and death that permitted them to avoid the -greater vulgarity of war. - -And I was part of their mass catharsis, one of the hired instruments of -their annual exorcism. For an instant I saw the tiers of humanity as a -great analyst's couch, and the gamesward as the unlocked unconscious -where ugly passion was set free. - -This fancy passed and I found myself staring at a woman in a box at -the edge of the field near me. Her face was contorted and almost -unrecognizable as that of a charming hostess whose guest I twice had -been--and whose guest I would be tonight at a fashionable, dignified -reception if I lived. Fiendish delight now twisted her usually serene -features and I had a quick flash of her thoughts projected into mine, -urging me to kill the enemy, _kill_, _kill_, and in doing so to rend -his body most abominably. - -But then the great cymbals clashed and her face receded to a blur in -the crowd. It was time for me to kill or be killed. - -I strode forward confidently, giving no sign that one of my legs was -false. I held my head high and tilted slightly to the right so that my -good left eye could do part of the work of its missing fellow. - -At the edge of the Circle of Death I stopped and bowed stiffly to my -opponent from Tara. I studied him as he returned my bow. I had never -seen him fight and didn't know if any of his limbs were false, like -mine. - -But then I knew. The left forearm of the man of Tara was prosthetic -and it would be useless to try to draw blood from it. I knew because -Joro was in my mind now, directing my thoughts, just as the noble from -Tara was in the mind of my opponent, directing his. Now Joro would live -every blow, feel the pain of wounds, smell the blood and sweat and -experience the exhilaration of battle, even as I. But if I lost I would -die, not Joro. He would withdraw and live to fight another time, in -another hired body. - -Yet while he guided and directed me he would have the same urgency to -live, the same fear of death. - -I stepped into the circle now and there was an animal roar from the -crowd. Tara's man did a vicious little dance step and kicked. As I -leaped aside his left hand slashed at my face. I dodged the blow and -blocked the right that followed it. There was a tinkle of steel on -steel as our fingers met. - -We circled then, each of us seeking a weakness in the other. I had a -glimpse of Joro, tense in concentration at the edge of his high seat. -It was odd to see him at a distance and at the same time to know he was -inside me, fighting my fight. - -I felt the power of his mind and doubled over to avoid a slash that had -been aimed at my eye. Then, with my opponent off balance, Joro directed -a blow at his shoulder. I felt my claws dig into the man's flesh and -he went down on one knee. Quickly I kicked and saw my steel hoof slice -his ear so that it dangled by a thread of flesh. Before I could follow -through for the kill Tara's man was up with a thrust that sought to -disembowel me. I stepped back in time. - -But I was shaken. His sharp claws had brushed my belly. An inch more -and I would have been bleeding my life out, red on the green of the -gamesward. I felt nauseated. The noise of the crowd was like the surf, -rolling in over me, but dirty, filled with garbage. - -_Barbarians!_ I thought. - -Suddenly I didn't want to win. I didn't want to die, either, but the -price for that was to kill this other man with whom I had no quarrel. - - * * * * * - -He was facing me again, his ear hanging down grotesquely, and throwing -a series of orthodox feints with his left to set me up for a right -cross. He had a strange expression on his contorted face. - -"... television," I heard him grunt. - -It was clearly that word--that Earth-word. I had to give him a word -he'd recognize in turn as non-Uru. - -"What channel?" I said. "What channel was that on?" - -He looked at me in surprise. - -"Any channel that had one," he said. "I was telling myself how I used -to scream for blood when I watched fights on television. Crazy. Who the -hell are you?" - -I swung a slow-motion left that missed by eight inches. He sent out an -uppercut that missed by as much. - -"New York," I said. "I wish I was back." - -"Me too, pal," he said. "Chicago was never like this." - -"Rome was, though," I said, doing fancy footwork and throwing punches -at the air. "And one of us is going to be carried out." - -"I was looking for _yage_ on South State Street." He weaved and -shadow-boxed, not touching me. - -"And they gave you _uru_. The big fix. We're fixed, all right." - -"It's the least, Dad," he said. "Believe me." - -There was a voice inside my skull. "Boru!" it said. It was Joro's, or -Jones's. - -"The Man is complaining," I said to Chicago. "The Man named Jones, -an _uru_ pusher. Thinks we're not giving the customers their money's -worth." I crouched and tapped him lightly on the chest. - -"Bleed on the bleeding customers," he said, nudging me gently on the -shoulder. "English expression." - -"Boru!" the voice in my skull said again. "_Barry!_ What has happened? -Fight, man, for the honor of Urula!" - -"He wants me to kill you," I told Chicago. "But maybe he can't make -me." I had thought Jones was in complete control. - -"Mine, too," Chicago said. "Pusher name of Robinson. He's popping his -cork but I think I can stand him off." I got a light punch in the ribs -and retaliated with a caress to the jaw. - -"Sorry about the ear," I said. - -"Forget it. Where do we go from here? We can't waltz forever." - -The crowd was catching on. I'd heard boos like that in the Garden and -Ebbets Field. They must have known by now that the big fight was a fake -and that the boys in the ring were a couple of bums anxious to get to -the showers. - -The crowd might not have known exactly what was up but Chicago's -manager and mine did. I could feel Jones probing around in my -mind, trying to re-establish control and rekindle the blood lust. -But apparently he had no power to direct my actions except when I -cooperated. He could still read my mind and communicate with it. He -could cajole, threaten and curse, but he couldn't make me kill Chicago. - -Jones came down from his high seat and started toward me. I stepped -back to the edge of the circle and Chicago did the same. His man was -also on the way over. The crowd was having a fit. - -Chicago winked at me. "I guess it's a draw. The customers are going to -start tearing up the seats." - -Joro-Jones and his opposite number met near the circle and bowed -stiffly to each other. They said nothing, but from the expressions on -their faces I gathered that they were having a rip-roaring telepathic -conversation. Finally they bowed again and Jones took my elbow to lead -me back to the sidelines. - -"So long, Chicago," I called. "Good luck." - -"Thanks," he said. "Same to you. See you around, maybe." - - * * * * * - -One of the officials was trying to make an announcement to the outraged -crowd as Jones and I went under the stands to the dressing room. - -Sorrow and shame seemed to be Jones's chief emotions as he helped me -off with my steel claws and the other lethal paraphernalia. - -"I suppose this is worse than if I got killed," I said. - -"Infinitely," he said. "Never before has cowardice besmirched the -Sport." - -"You know it wasn't cowardice," I told him. "Your honor would have been -intact if you hadn't run in one of my own people to the slaughter. I'd -always done your dirty work before." - -"You knew the rules," he said sadly. "The traditions, the hazards, the -rewards. You accepted them. But now, by having rejected them, you've -put yourself in limbo. You are no longer Boru the Fighting Man. You can -never achieve the nobility that your prowess could have brought you. -Now you are Barry the Alien, and there is no place in our world for -you." - -"Then I'm fired?" I asked. - -"A man in disgrace should be less facetious. There should be a penalty -for what you have done, but it was unprecedented. There is only one -thing to do. You must be deported." - -"To Earth?" All at once this was what I wanted. - -"Yes," he said. "To the ugly planet from which you came. It is no more -than you deserve. I sorrow that you were not worthy of us." - -I felt like making a speech then, about my land and my people. About -the Earth being a thousand Earths--a million--two billion--meaning a -different thing to every individual whose home it was. How Jones, with -his _uru_ drug, roaming the underworld of one city, had naturally seen -only the dregs of its society--the users and pushers, the grifters and -dreamers, the seekers after the big deal, the short cut, the unearned -reward, the big fix. He hadn't seen the Earth I'd known once, the -clean and straight world where you earned your way with dignity and -integrity.... - -I didn't make the speech. I didn't have to, of course, because he read -it all in my mind. I doubt if it meant anything to him. - -"Here," he said. - -He handed me a bowl of pungent green liquid. I didn't ask what it was. -It was bitter and sickeningly warm but I drank every last drop. Jones -watched me sadly. For just a moment I felt ashamed for having let him -down. - -Then the whirling rushing took me up and flung me into space and the -stars ran together as before. - - * * * * * - -I suppose Earth is the same as it ever was. Yet it seems to me now to -be an infinitely better place than I remembered. - -Of course my viewpoint is different. Though I see out of only one eye -now, I see much more. It is possible to look beyond the petty circle -of addicts that had been my world. I am ashamed that I once was one of -those poor deluded creatures, the cravers of the quick kick and the -brief relief. They are noplace, going nowhere. - -They still talk of _yage_, the unreachable pie in their murky sky. -They want to be up there, out and away, anywhere but here. They are -fools. Uru taught me that. There is no real escape from here and now. -Therefore that is the thing to embrace. The inner propinquity of the -here, the time-extended everlastingness of the now. - -Crazy, Jack? - -No. I've gone scientific. I've gone back along the dreamy trail and -found the place where I took the wrong fork. I'd followed that fork a -little way but then turned back without giving it a fair shake. - -_Peyote's_ what I'm talking about, friend. The thing Jones ran down. -Mescalin. That's right, back to the Indians. - -Only it's gone respectable since I've been away. They don't call it a -fix, big or otherwise. Not the serious group of investigators I work -with. It's called the Huxley effect. - -It's the study of _is_ness, if you know what I mean; the hereness and -nowness that is the all of everywhere within. It's the slowing of -time's rush to a standstill so you can spend a century studying the -intricate truth-in-beauty of a detail in the wallpaper or the eloquent -message of a rose petal. - -And if that's good enough for Aldous, Jack, it's good enough for me. - -I look and describe, and my one eye becomes a thousand. I talk and they -tape-record. They publish and compare the perceptions with those of -other subjects in other groups. - -Once I saw the blue-white sun of Uru in a delft vase. This excited them -because there had been a similar perception by a subject in Chicago. It -excited me too. I'm glad he got back all right. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIG FIX *** - -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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