diff options
| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-03-08 08:00:34 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-03-08 08:00:34 -0700 |
| commit | ee842c3ffe999a54d95db86c0ea37afdfcc519af (patch) | |
| tree | 6834361a65eb0775578c45537ddaf98dbca5fcfb /78138-h/78138-h.htm | |
Diffstat (limited to '78138-h/78138-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 78138-h/78138-h.htm | 489 |
1 files changed, 489 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/78138-h/78138-h.htm b/78138-h/78138-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e81424 --- /dev/null +++ b/78138-h/78138-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,489 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + Pink Grass Planet | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.f15 {font-size: 1.5em;} + +blockquote { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w20 {width: 20em;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowe114_4375 {width: 114.4375em;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78138 ***</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe114_4375" id="cover"> + <img class="w20" src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + Transcribed from Fantastic Universe, May 1955 (Vol. 3, No. 4.). + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> +<h1> +Pink Grass Planet +</h1> + + +<p class="center f15">by <strong>Sam Merwin Jr.</strong></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + +<blockquote> +<p><i>In offering this delightful new Sam Merwin story to you we may be +inviting just about the worst disaster that could befall an editor of +a science-fantasy magazine. For, given man’s eternal restlessness and +his all-too-frequent subservience to fads and fancies, the tragedy so +vividly depicted here may someday come true. Then we’ll be accused +of being an accessory before the fact, and suffer the harsh fate of +prophets everywhere. A dire risk, truly!</i></p> + +<p class="p2"><b>A man may grieve his heart out for a paradise left behind. But five +short years of human folly may make that world a nightmare.</b></p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + + + +<p>The starship landed at night. When Ricardo Webb stepped out on the +ramp, the first thing he did was take a deep breath of the sharp, +strange-familiar air of Earth. When he exhaled, in the glow of the +fluorescent field-lamps, he could see a little cloud of vapor emerge +and dissipate quickly against the brisk November night.</p> + +<p>He told himself he would never curse a terrestrial winter again. After +five years in the tepid showerbath air of Lri-gTu-riANa, he even looked +forward to shoveling snow. This was Earth, this was home—and it felt +good to be back. Better than good, in fact.</p> + +<p>He stared about him, searching for a warmth and a radiance that would +make his happiness complete. Then Carla spun out of the whirling group +of reporters, officials and just plain people who had come to meet +the starship, and flung herself into his arms. “Ricci, darling!” She +whispered, twisting her pretty face so that her lips met his almost +vertically.</p> + +<p>He thought, <i>I’ll have to do something about that</i>. He held her +supple softness off at arm’s length and said, “Do I know you?”</p> + +<p>“Idiot!” She laughed and kissed him again. “Come on,” she said. +“Mother’s cooking a turkey, and dad can’t wait to ask you about fishing +on Liguria.”</p> + +<p>Lri-gTu-riANa—Liguria. The contraction simplified the name for +Earth-tongues, but it sounded odd to Ricardo. He hoped not too many of +the once-familiar place names of Earth would sound odd to his ears. +He wanted to forget about Lri-gTu-riANa for awhile, and rejoice in +the incredible bright wonder of his homecoming. He said: “They use +needle-rays instead of dry flies on—Liguria. It’s not the same.”</p> + +<p>“Idiot!” she said again, affectionately. “<i>I</i> don’t give a +<i>fringo</i> how they catch fish on Liguria—that’s for dad. I’m just +glad you’re back.” She hugged his elbow. “I’ve got an aircar waiting.”</p> + +<p><i>Fringo!</i> He wondered where Carla had picked that one up. It was a +Lri-gTu-riANan expression, not entirely decent by accepted terrestrial +standards. But no one who had not been to Lri-gTu-riANa would know. +He wondered if he’d ever get used to calling the planet of his exile +Liguria.</p> + +<p>A Vidar newscaster intercepted them before they reached the aircar +beyond the administration building. Ricardo enjoyed the man’s nasal, +staccato chatter after the soft slow accents he had been forced to +listen to from dawn to dusk for five long years. The man said, turning +his vidamike toward Carla so that she, too, would appear on two +hundred million precision-tuned screens, “Mr. Webb, I see you’ve got a +real honeycomb with you. Tell me, how does she look to you after the +Ligurian <i>Fraislies</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Great—just great!” said Ricardo sincerely.</p> + +<p>He wondered, feeling a pang of conscience, just how much people on +Earth knew about the <i>fraislies</i>—and how much they could accept +without lifting their eyebrows. Everything was so different on the +first civilized planet man had discovered. And Ricardo had discovered +how thoroughly even the most pleasant exoticism can pall. He was +relieved when the newscaster moved on to another returnee.</p> + +<p>Carla and he took off as soon as his luggage had been inspected and +cleared. He gave her the ring which he had had fashioned of a single +chunk of pale blue, luminous Ligurian jade. She kissed him again as +she slipped it on her fourth finger, atop the diamond-and-platinum +engagement ring she had been wearing for five years.</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>darling</i>!” she murmured. “This is the loveliest thing! The +other girls will hate me for having it—and for having you.”</p> + +<p>This time, when their lips met, he held her face upright between his +palms. But when he moved his hands lower to caress her, she twisted her +head again so her lips crossed his almost vertically. But so ardent was +the embrace that he didn’t really care. It was pleasantly dark and warm +in the aircar, and the cushions were soft, and the automatic pilot was +doing all the work....</p> + +<p>Carla’s mother, wearing a plastapron, met them at the door. She was a +pale, plump woman, who twittered like a fluttering, migratory bird. She +had set her face sternly against her daughter’s engagement to Ricardo +but now that he had returned indisputably famous she chose to believe +that the selection of Carla’s fiancé had been hers alone.</p> + +<p>Ricardo was relieved when she fled to the kitchen, twittering over a +bare pink shoulder, “I had the bird stuffed with <i>loocoo-sran</i> +berries, in honor of your arrival, Ricci. Won’t that be divinely nice?”</p> + +<p>He was sure the berries would spoil his meal. If there was one thing +he had developed a hatred for, beyond all others on Lri-gTu-riANa, it +was the all-pervasive sweet-sour tartness of the <i>loocoo-sran</i> +ingredient in that planet’s cuisine. It was a standing joke in the +Earth-colony that their hosts used <i>loocoo-sran</i> berries to brush +their teeth, so the flavor would remain with them between meals to +bolster up their egos.</p> + +<p>Carla darted into her room and Mr. Baker put an arm across Ricardo’s +shoulders and led him to the servabar at one end of the living room. +He was a large, hearty man with a booming voice. He said, “It’s good +to have you back, son. I think the occasion demands a little liquid +refreshment. I picked up a case of <i>praglian</i> yesterday, in honor +of your arrival.”</p> + +<p><i>Praglian!</i> The thought of its thick, sweetish flavor made him +physically ill. There had been a time, during the early portion of his +stay on Lri-gTu-riANa, when he had enjoyed drinking the stuff. There +had also been a time, before he went to Lri-gTu-riANa, when he would +simply have told Mr. Baker he’d rather have whiskey—good straight +Earth whiskey, 90 proof. But five years of Lri-gTu-riANan politeness +had made such candor impossible. He drank <i>praglian</i>, and tried +not to make a face.</p> + +<p>Carla came wandering in, wearing snowy white boots, shorts and bolero +jacket. She looked adorable, and she felt adorable as she snuggled +close to him and took a sip from his glass. There was just one flaw. +Now that she had her hat off, he saw that her naturally auburn hair had +been dyed a pale Ligurian green.</p> + +<p>“Why did you do it, honey?” he asked her, no longer able to obey the +inner compulsion toward politeness he had acquired on the alien planet.</p> + +<p>She thrust a laughing face up at him and said, “Isn’t it +<i>crspaltish</i>? All the girls are doing it lately. It’s the absolute +rage.”</p> + +<p>Of course, she mispronounced <i>crspaltish</i>. But Ricardo didn’t +correct her. The less Ligurian he heard, he told himself bitterly, the +better he was going to like it.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, he enjoyed the dinner. Apparently, the +<i>loocoo-sran</i> berries had been adulterated to suit terrestrial +palates, or else he was so used to the flavor that his own taste +had become blunted. At any rate, the radar-cooked turkey was +marvelous—crisp and brown on the outside, and unbelievably tender and +white within. And the rest of the food was untainted with Ligurian +seasonings. He ate until the lastex band of his clout made groves +against the skin of his stomach.</p> + +<p>Satiated, he sat on the living room sofa, his fingers entwined with +Carla’s, and wondered why anyone should want to go to Lri-gTu-riANa +when Earth was so much better, so much more suited to the race of men. +In the dim light, he had to look hard to see that Carla’s hair was +Ligurian green. He didn’t strain his eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baker, in the rockofit chair, was wearing the <i>flausmraka</i> +bolero he had brought her, and Mr. Baker, in his layback seat, was +puffing on the tube of the Ligurian <i>clisra</i>-pipe Ricardo had dug +out of his luggage right after dinner. He hadn’t quite mastered the +technique and made faint slurping sounds at regular intervals.</p> + +<p>“I’m so <i>glad</i> you’re back,” Carla whispered, close to his ear. +“It was worth waiting five years for. Or an eternity,” she added, +snuggling even closer to him.</p> + +<p>Ricardo gave her hand a squeeze. This was Earth. This was home. This +was Carla, glorious in bolero jacket and snowy boots.</p> + +<p>At nine o’clock the vidar announcer appeared and said, “And +now, Rafflex Exterminator, the exterminator that terminates, +presents its long-awaited ninety-minute superspectacular in tri-di +triple-color—<i>Life on Liguria!</i> See the famous authentic +<i>shlastric</i> festival, learn how the seductive <i>loofahs</i> +select their mates, thrill to the excitement and danger of a +<i>kifs</i>-hunt in the deadly <i>snree-achian</i> jungle, all brought +to you by courtesy of Rafflex Exterminator, the ex—”</p> + +<p>“Come on, honey,” said Ricardo, getting to his feet. “Let’s take a +walk. Will you excuse us, Mrs. Baker?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baker was so deeply engrossed in the vidar that he had to repeat +the question twice.</p> + +<p>Outside, the night was warm—Carla lived almost a thousand miles +south of the spaceport—and the moon was as large and mellow as a +lump of unsalted butter. It looked dangerously huge and close to +Ricardo, accustomed as he was to the four swift and tiny satellites of +Lri-gTu-riANa. But the poplars whispered in the soft breeze and the +grass of the lawn was crisply tender beneath his feet. Carla kissed +him—sideways, Liguria-style again—and then said with a sigh, “That’s +what I love about you most, Ricci. You’re so courtly and polite. Asking +mother if we could take a walk! I don’t even mind your having had a +<i>loofa</i> on Liguria.”</p> + +<p>“What makes you think I had a <i>loofa</i>?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Silly! Doesn’t everyone?” she countered. “When in Rome....”</p> + +<p>“As a matter of fact, there wasn’t much choice,” he told her.</p> + +<p>He was glad, in a way, that she had accepted the fact that his years on +Lri-gTu-riANa had not been celibate. Yet her easy acquiescence bothered +him a little. It seemed—un-Earthlike. It would have been more in +character if she had given him hell. It would have been more flattering +to his ego. In her casual acceptance of a biological frailty, she +seemed almost like a <i>fraislie</i>.</p> + +<p>No one who had not lived on the planet could ever really understand its +society. Not that the natives weren’t surprisingly human. In sober fact +they came as close to being human as any race could without actually +belonging to the same species. But their society had developed along +more temperate lines. After all, Lri-gTu-riANa was a milder planet than +Earth.</p> + +<p>There were no sex crimes on Lri-gTu-riANa, because there was no sexual +repression. Mating had been reduced to a mere social pleasure—almost +as casually accepted as the custom of shaking hands on Earth. The only +thing outlawed on Lri-gTu-riANa was ugliness in any shape or form. That +hatred of ugliness had been the most difficult factor for the Earth +visitors to adjust to. No matter how useful anything was, no matter how +sorely needed—if it was ugly, it was out—O-U-T, <i>out</i>!</p> + +<p>Without closing his eyes, Ricardo could see in vivid visual +retrospect his red-headed chief, Captain Luders, turning scarlet with +exasperation. He had not been allowed to employ a water-purifier simply +because the natives hadn’t thought it looked beautiful enough.</p> + +<p>He could hear Luders storming, in the seclusion of the inner office, +“Damned pink, candy-box world! I’m beginning to feel like the little +man on a wedding cake. For five credits, I’d....”</p> + +<p>What Luders would have done for five credits had been both obscene +and explicit. But the incident had occurred during the early months, +before one of the loveliest <i>fraislies</i> on Lri-gTu-riANa became +the captain’s <i>loofa</i>. Luders had lost a lot of rough edges in +the years since, and had become a great stickler for beauty, naked and +unadorned.</p> + +<p>Ricardo was brought back to Earth with a thud. Carla was talking about +plans for their wedding, talking joyously and excitedly about showers +and luncheons and bridesmaids costumes. He heard himself say, “Can’t +that wait till tomorrow, honey? I’m a little beat.”</p> + +<p>Instantly he wondered why he’d said it. For five years, he had lived +with the constant, gloriously sustaining thought of marrying Carla the +moment he got back to Earth. It had been like the proverbial bottle of +whiskey at the end of the ditch. He had even feared that she might turn +faithless, or be swept off her feet by another man. He had inwardly +denied himself full, and traditionally customary satisfaction with his +own <i>loofa</i>, preserving a tiny part of himself for her alone.</p> + +<p>They had thought him a cold fish on Lri-gTu-riANa, because of Carla. +Yet here he was, putting off the very thing he’d held himself aloof +for. Aloof-a <i>loofa</i>. As he undressed for the night, he wondered +if space-cafard hadn’t got him. Certainly his behavior and feelings had +not been wholly rational. Quite the reverse....</p> + +<p>When he awoke the next morning, the sun—Earth’s sun, <i>his</i> +sun—was shining low and bright in the east. Birds—Earth-birds—were +singing their morning songs and a faint, wonderful aroma of coffee +came through the window from the kitchen wing of the house. All the +confusion, all the uncertainty, all the self-doubt of the night before +had been washed away. Ricardo stretched lazily, then rose and shuffled +across the carpet to look out the window.</p> + +<p>He actually cried out with horror at what he saw.</p> + +<p>It seemed like nightmare, but—it wasn’t at all. The neat lawn and +trim poplars were a rich, familiar pink. If it hadn’t been for the +green of the hills west of the town, he’d have thought himself still on +Lri-gTu-riANa. Dazed, he turned away from the shocking spectacle just +as Carla, who had heard him cry out, came into the room.</p> + +<p>He said, “What’s happened to the trees, to the lawn?”</p> + +<p>She looked pleased, even a little smug. She said, “Isn’t it simply +<i>crspaltish</i>, Ricci? We were the very first in town to use +chlorodyll on our grass. You know, the stuff that makes the foliage +pink on Liguria.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” Ricardo said grimly.</p> + +<p>“The best part of it is that it won’t turn green again,” she told him +proudly. “And it doesn’t spread, so no one can use it who hasn’t paid +for it.”</p> + +<p>“Praise Allah for small blessings,” said Ricardo, appalled.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” Carla wanted to know.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.</p> + +<p>“Now almost everybody has chlorodyll grass,” the girl went on. “Out +West, in farming districts, the big owners hire aircars to dust the +prairies. In a few years, the whole world will be pink.”</p> + +<p>Ricardo thought despairingly of the green hills of Earth, for which he +had longed for so many years. He thought of the dark tropical forests, +of the mosses of the Arctic tundra, of the great grasslands of Africa, +Asia and South America. All pink, passionate cake-frosting pink! Or +soon to be. He closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>Carla kept on talking. “And tonight, they’re having a ball in our honor +at the country club. It’s going to be just like a <i>shlastric</i> +festival and some of the girls say they’re going to be real +<i>loofas</i>. It’s becoming quite the thing. But mother and I don’t +think it’s exactly proper unless they’re married. I want you to see +my costume, right after breakfast, to be sure it’s a hundred per cent +authentic.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He opened his eyes. He said, “Beat it, honey, will you? I want to take +a shower and get dressed.”</p> + +<p>He didn’t shower at once. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, +being careful to assume an angle that forbade his seeing the pink +foliage outside. He thought of the young people of Earth, ardently +pursuing Ligurian customs, turning the planet into an imitation of +Lri-gTu-riANa. He thought of girls like Carla turning <i>loofa</i>. At +least, on Lri-gTu-riANa, it was the real thing.</p> + +<p>He packed his bag and got dressed and walked through the French window, +across the pink grass to the street. He hailed a passing vehicle and +was given a lift to the skyport. There, he caught an aircab north to +the spaceport.</p> + +<p>The interstellar official looked at him curiously as he reported. He +was a man of native curiosity, which was why he held the job he did. +It was a job where questions were important. He said, “You’re sure you +want to go back for a ten-year hitch. Not that we aren’t glad to have +an old Liguria-hand back. But you haven’t given yourself much time here +on Earth. Your girl run out on you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” Ricardo didn’t want to waste time talking. He wouldn’t feel safe +until he was aboard the big gleaming starship awaiting its payload at +the end of the ramp outside. “Just say, I think I’m better suited to +life on Lri-gTu-riANa after five years there.”</p> + +<p>“Sure you don’t want a little more time to adjust. It’s a big decision. +And ten years is—”</p> + +<p>“Ten years is the longest hitch I can sign for,” said Ricardo. “I +intend to stay on Lri-gTu-riANa for life.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’re not going to stop you,” said the official. “Care for a +spot of <i>praglian</i>? One for the road?”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” said Ricardo as the official bent to open a drawer. He was +going to drink <i>praglian</i> from now on and like it. He clinked +glasses with his host and downed the Ligurian brew. It was warm and +sweet and not unpleasant on his tongue.</p> + +<p>“By the way,” said the official, nodding toward a large carton that +stood beside Ricardo’s bags, “if it’s not hush-hush, would you mind +telling me why you’re spending credits taking seeds to a fertile planet +like Lri-gTu-riANa?”</p> + +<p>“Because,” said Ricardo, speaking slowly, “I’m going to turn the whole +damned planet green.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="transnote"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_note"> + Transcriber’s note: + </h2> + +<p>This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, May 1955 (Vol. 3, No. +4.). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> + +<p>Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but minor +inconsistencies have been retained as printed.</p> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78138 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |