303 81 60MB
English Pages 388 pages; 23 cm [404] Year 1999
.t-
^
:^,^*^i^.
.^*"«^^.
^rrS'
1
f
I
t
feT-^V
OHN
Digitized by the Internet Archive in
2011
http://www.archive.org/details/reallyreallyrealOOshir
^ M
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Contents ©1999 by John Shirley Cover, cover design, and interior artwork Interior design
All rights reserved. Printed in the
©1999 Alan M. Clark
and composition by John Tynes
United States of America.
No
part of this
book may be used
or reporduced in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations critical articles
embodied
in
of reviews. Making copies of any part of this book for any purpose other than
your ovra personal use
is
a violation of United States copyright laws. For information, please
is,
without warranty of any kind, either express or impHed. While every
contact the publisher.
This book
is
sold as
precaution has been taken in preparation of this book, the author and Night Shade Books
sume no
responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither
any
is
liability
assumned
for
as-
damages
resuling from the use of information or instructions contained within.
This
is
a
work of
any resemblance to
The
fiction.
real
The
characters and events portrayed in this
people or events
is
book
are fictitious,
and
purely coincidental.
publisher would like to thank the following for indespensible help and support. William
K. Shafer, Alan Bcatts,
John Pelan, Matt Johnson, John Tynes, John Shirley and Paula Guran.
First
Edition
Printed in the United States of America
Limited Edition ISBN 1-892389-01-0
Trade Edition ISBN 1-892389-02-9
Night Shade Books
870 East
El
Camino Real
#133
Mountain View, CA 98040 www nightshadebooks com .
.
night@nightshadebooks com .
Really,
Reall^dl^' Really,
cVVeird iStories
John Shirley
NIGHT SHADE BOOKS
MOUNTAIN
V
1
E
VV,
C A
this
book
is
to these really
dedicated
weird people
Micky Shirley, Ivan Stang, Paul Mavrides, Harry S. Robins, Rudy Rucker, Shikhar,
Gene
a Texas Fan, Jan
My Man
Laidlaw, Richard Kadrey, Paula Guran,
in
Germany, LadyCro, Marc
Mark
Ziesing,
Tim
Powers,
Serena Powers, Art Cover, Steve Brown, Richard Smoley, Michael and
Misha Chocholak, Simpson,
Mark
DC Moon,
Sten,
Dona
Robert Sheckley, Ed Kramer, Corby
Bolt, Jeff Bolt,
Dale van Wormer, Charlene
Jon Nev^on, Jim Baldwin, Katherine Dunn, Julia Solis, John Roome, Don Roeser, Eric Bloom, Ted Oliphant, Greg Bishop, Tim
Zaharakis,
Brigham, and the Reverend Nanzi Regalia.
REALLY WEIRD STORIES "I
Want To Get Married,"
Says the World's Smallest
Man!
Will the Chill
Tapes
12, 14, 15,
22 and 23
Don't Be Afraid Lot
5
19
38
49
Five, Building Seven,
Door Twenty-three
Kindred
55
68
The Word "Random,"
Deliberately Repeated
69
Voices
76
The
78
.
.
.
Last Ride
And
the Angel with Television Eyes
The Sweet Caress of Mother Nature In the Cornelius Arms Quill Tripstickler, Out the Window I
Live in Elizabeth
Morons
at the
158
166
,
Screens Brittany?
112
125
145
Speed of Light
Silent Crickets
92 108
169
Oh: She's
in Translucent Blue
Ticket to Heaven
189
202
REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, WEIRD STORIES Ash
222
Triggering
When
Enter
235
Came
247 260
Skeeter Junkie
What Joy! What
Fulfillment!
270 277
199619971998 Preach
289
Preach: Part Two: The Apocalypse of The Reverend John Shirley
294
Modern Transmutations
297
of the Alchemist
Just Like Suzic
3^4
Cold Feet
316
The
Peculiar
Tahiti in
Happiness of Professor Cort
Terms of Squares
319 333
Equilibrium
340
What Cindy Saw The Almost Empty Rooms
350
Ten Things to be Grateful For The Sea Was Wet As Wet Could Be
378
3^1
387
.
The Author Wants To Tell You
This collection
in four sections.
is
RIES; second one
The
first
.
.
is
REALLY WEIRD STO-
one
REALLY, REALLY WEIRD STORIES; third one is WEIRD STORIES; last one is REALLY, RE-
is
REALLY, REALLY, REALLY
REALLY WEIRD STORIES.
ALLY, REALLY,
way—so
stories in just that
than the ones in the
As
for
The I
why
.
.
I've tried to
arrange the
that the stories in each section are "weirder"
last.
.
idea for this collection
came
to
me when Paula Guran said,
"Yeah,
read that Lot Five story. Shirley, that was a really weird story." muttered, "You think thafs weird?"
I
relative.
it's all
if
you chose
yeah,
it
to.
really
I'm still
like to .
.
think
its
it
is
gimmicky,
we
Or
is
think.
it's
a sort of high concept
entertainment element
more going for
it
than
that.
How far can we go, and How far can we go without get-
get lost, can
we
find our
real, to
way back? Does
know who you
normality or so-called weirdness goes
are,
it
matter?
whatever
down?
the point just to have one motherfucker of a ride?
You decide right: if
quality, but,
.
the point to be aware, to be
relative
but—
experiment: this journey.
really into this
if
it is
according to weirdness
The
existence.
has
take our reference points with us?
Isn't
I
I
said that
ting lost—or
as
collection
that doesn't justify
does, perhaps, but
Having
thought: Well,
fun to do.
And so it has been. This and
I
stories
That wouldn't be any kind of measure of
would be
collection,
Then
mean, you could stack up
I
if it's
a
good
each section
Weird
thought
is
is
ride.
And you can
weirder than the
decide
last.
Let
if I
stacked these up
me know what you
obviously relative, and this "stacking" wasn't half so easy
it'd
be.
Some
weirdness because of the
stories are in a particular section of relative
way
they're written rather than because of
what happens
in
them. Not everyone
weirdness of these
stories.
will
agree about the comparative
Within given sections,
stories are arranged for
other reasons, having to do with pacing and tone and
be noted that
this collection
Many of the in
some
stories in this
cases were
what
I
is
no
particular genre;
.
.
.
me—to
Some
of the
be too weird to be pub-
now.
till
There are a few
weirdest stories
stories that should,
by
rights,
I
be
in this
most
book but were
part, these are the
ever wrote; especially, as you might suppose, those in
last section.
As I was compiling this book, over a couple of weeks to
should
several genres.
think of as barely published.
unavailable for contractual reasons. But, for the
the
variety. It
book have never been published before-or
former group were judged— not by lished
it's
do
too),
was mostly
I
(I
had other
stuff
listening to the following music:
Monster Magnet's Powertrip album, Nick Cave's Murder
Ballads,
Lou
Reed's boxed set and Live in London, Frank Zappa's Hot Rats, various things by King Crimson, various cuts by Bauhaus
and by Peter Murphy,
PJ
Harvey, the band Poe, Iggy and the Stooges and Iggy's recent solo albums,
Hound Dog
Taylor,
John Lee Hooker, the Oblivion Seekers, Big Mama stuff), Cake (my kids made me; I liked it).
Thornton, Frank Sinatra (60s
We
Wm
Cramps,
Fall (Iggy tribute Tilt,
Cash, and the
Have
CD), Trust/Obey,
Patti
Smith, Cracker,
Witchman, Mudhoney, Rolling Stones, Johnny
The
Sick,
new
Blue Oyster Cult 3lhum—Heaven Forbid.
a weird day.
The
Have
a really weird day.
John
Shirley
For more about the
you are
weird author,
really
invited to visit the official
John Shirley Web
http
:
/
Site:
/www. darkecho com/ JohnShirley .
or contact him via email:
darkecho@aol com .
CO CO
The the
first
time
dum dum
CX3
I
saw
boys
was fascinated They just stood in front of the old drug store I was most impressed I
No Not
one
else
was impressed
at all
—Iggy Pop, "Dum Dum
Boys'
Really
^Veird
Stories
"
"I
Says
Want To Get Married,"
the World's Smallest Man!
"You a fucking ho," Delbert
"You don't come
said.
at
me
like that,
not a
fuckin ho."
"Fuck you, Delbert,
Capp
Street
tossup don't
when
like yo'
come out
it
who
me
out?
thirty
nigger bitch cousins,
You busted me out
degrees— I
Tm
a white
ain'a girl,
on
there
motherfucking
motherfucker,
I
of that—"
You was already a ay motherfucker CheeChee—
"Don't be talkin that that ess
turned
was fucking
shit.
"Sure so he didn't beat
my
fucking head
were you when he was slapping Delbert. Shit you
me and
fucking whore, you fucked
Where were you? Where
in.
shit? Hittin'
the fuckin' pipe,
knew what was going on-Where you going now
goddamnit?" Delbert was mumbling over the loose knob of the hotel room's door, trying to get out into the hall.
Brandy was glad Delbert was
The knob was about
going because that
come
ready to
off.
meant he wasn't going
to
work
himself up to knocking her around, but at the same time she didn't
want
to be left alone, just her
a radio
now
TV
and the fucked-up
because the picture was so
slant)'
that
was more or
you couldn't
make
it
less
out, a
two-week-old Weekly World Inquirer, and one can of Colt Malt stashed on the window ledge. And something else, he was going to get some
money, maybe get an out-front from Terrence, and do some shouted after him, "You going to suckin'
it all
pipe without
up, microwavin' that pipe, fuckin'
Terrence going to kick yo' ass
if
as
he slammed
it
'Tuck you, you better bring off as his steps
receded down
Really Weird Stories
yelling,
me
She
again?
You
up the way you do
it
you smoke what he
But he'd got the door open,
SLAP YOU!"
hit that
rock.
it,
and
give >'ou to sell-"
"SHUT UP
WOMAN
I
BITCH-
behind him with that soapH)pera timing.
me some the
hall,
fuckin
." .
.
She
"... dope."
let
her voice
trail
.
6
Want to Get Married,"
"I
The
fight
.
John Shirley
.
had used her up. She felt that plunge feeling again, like nothtry; and what she wanted was to go back to bed.
ing was any use so why
She thought, maybe
I
my baby out of Foster
Care Hold, that place's
Candy's not a baby anymore, she's ten, and she's
just like prison. Shit
half-white, looks
get
more white than anything
else, she'll
be OK.
Brandy got up off the edge of the bed, walked across the hugging
chilly
room,
her sharp hips under her fingers, as she went to
herself, feeling
the window. She looked out through the
little
cigarette-burn hole, just in
time to see Delbert walk his skinny black ass out the front door, right up to Terrence.
"The man's going
to
go off on you one of these days,
Delbert, you be a dead nigger before
you
emergency room, you
hit the
fucking asshole," she said, aloud, taking satisfaction in
it.
There was no reason, she thought, to be looking out the burn-hole instead of just lifting the shade; she didn't have anything to be paranoid
about, there wasn't even any fucking crumbles of
hadn't had any hubba in two days, and night thinking about
now
dope
in the house, she
she was laying awake at
not wanting to go out and turn a trick for
it,
cause she had that really bad lady trouble, and the pain
fucked her was
There
bad
it
clinic,
go to the
be-
they
stabbing her pussy, the infection-
like
was, soon as she started thinking about
again, itching
it
when
and burning
clinic.
in her cunt.
it,
the itching starts
up
Ow Ow. Ow. Shit, go to the
She didn't have the energy. They made you wait
so long. Treated you like a fucking whore.
She turned to the burn-hole again, saw Terrence walking along with Delbert, Terrence shaking his head.
up
here, beat her
cigarette hole.
till
No more
credit. Delbert'd
she'd hit the streets again. She
Looking out through the
habit. Like picking holes in
be back
mrned away from
tiny burn-hole
the
was a tweakin'
your skin trying to get coke bugs. Once she'd
spent a whole day, eight hours straight staring out through that hole, picking her skin bloody, staring, turning away only to hit the crack pipe. That was when Delbert was dealing and they were flush with dope.
Fucking cocaine
made you
tweaky,
it
lurched. She
went back
stuff. Maybe Delbert's some head. Her stomach
was funny
cousin Darius would give her some. For
to the bed, looked again at the Inquirer article
she'd been laboriously reading:
I
WANT TO GET MARRIED,
SAYS
WORLD'S SA4ALLEST MAN!
Ross Taraval, the wodd's smallest man, wants to get married-and he's one eligible bachelor! He weighs only seventeen pounds and
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley is
"I
Want to Get Married,"
only 28 inches high but he has a budding career as an enter-
tainer
and
he's got plenty of love to give,
my success,"
to share
he
who
said Ross, 24,
shot in Mexico, making him a
tells us. "I
has starred in two films
was given a "small"
wood
me
film.
wife in real
more
"There's
"The doctors
say
style!
And
listen,
man wants—and got so much love
real
I
I've
body wanting
little
in
to give
and
Miami. After
he wanted
to.
who
got
That's
eye
what
a
man
inside this
woman!" was
raised by
manager,
his
Book of
six-foot-five-
could carry Ross in his overcoat pocket
Chafin trained Ross
my
said.
my new
climb aboard!
attracting attention in the Trafalgar
soon found him work "I've
me
at three years old,
World Records, Ross was contacted by inch Benny Chafin,
let
there's a real
to the right
it
support
I'd
full-sized wife.
can handle her—just to give
role in a Holly-
than meets the eye," Ross
want a
I
who was abandoned
Ross,
nuns
to
could have children— and
I
want a wife
or anyway a comet, in that
star,
enterprising land. Recently he
if
...
in nightclubs
on a
in singing
TV
and
beautiful
and dancing and
endorsements.
house
in the
Hills for the right lady,"
Ross
said.
There was a picmre of the
little
guy standing next to
Hollywood
his
manager— not
even coming up to the manager's crotch height. The manager, now, was cute,
a
he looked kind of
little
box
at the
If you think to get in
like
Geraldo Rivera, Brandy thought. There was
bottom of the
youd be a
likely life-mate for
touch with him, you
World Inquirer and
Huh. Stupid
to
.
She could peel
I
letter to
him. Address
idea.
There was a stamp on the
think
like
.
.
She heard Delbert's footsteps
"I
Ross and would
may write him care of the Weekly
forward your
we'll
your correspondence
celed.
article. It said:
it
in the hall
letter
.
from her
.
.
sister that
hadn't been can-
off.
got you a job at Universal Smdios!" Benny said, striding breath-
lessly in.
"Really?" Ross's heart chair he'd
been squaring
boy Channel. Really Weird Stories
thumped. in to
He
climbed arduously
down
off the
watch TV. The Sleepytime Inn had a
Play-
7
"
8
"I
John Shirley
Waot TO Get Married,"...
He
hurried over to Benny,
who was
taking off his coat.
was
It
May in
Los Angeles, and sort of cold there. The cold made Ross's joints ache. Benny had said it was always warm in LA, but it wasn't now. It was cloudy and windy. It
took Ross a long time to get across the floor to Benny, and Ross was
know what was going
impatient to
on, so he started shouting questions
through his wheezing before he got there.
am
"What movie
down,
"Ross, slow It's
at their
I in.^"
he asked. "Does
you'll get
theme park. They want you
the tourists.
It's
a
live
have Arnold Schwarzane^er?"
it
your asthma started. No,
it's
not a movie.
King of the Wonksters for
to play
show."
Ross stopped in the middle of the
floor, panting, confused.
"What're
Wonksters?" "They're
.
sort of like
.
.
Ewoks.
outer space guys. Universal's got
Little
a movie coming out about 'em at Christmas so this'd be next
summer—if
the movie hits— and—
"Next summer!
need some work now! Those bastards! You
I
said
I
could be in a buddy picture with Arnold Schwarzanegger!" "I
He
spoke to
want
doesn't
"You
said
He
his agent.
do
to
already did a
buddy
picture with a
little
guy.
that again."
could meet him!"
I
"You're going to be around
your hero, Ross, calm dovm,
Maybe we can
get a photo
Hollywood
all
right?
You
for a long time, you'll
meet
don't want to have an attack.
op or something with him—"
Benny had turned away, was frowning over the papers
in his briefcase.
"We're not even sleeping in Hollywood!" Ross burst out. He'd been saving this
morning, having heard
all
"Hey, we're
in
LA,
OK?
It
from the maid. "We're ..."
it
doesn't matter where you
live
as long as
you
can drive to the studios. Most of 'em aren't actually in Hollywood, Ross, they're in
Burbank or Culver City—"
"Mary, Mother of God! getting wild with
all
the
I
girls!
want
to
go out
No? You
are!
in
And
Hollywood! You're out leaving
me
here!"
Benny turned to him, his cheeks mottling. He cocked a hip, and Ross backed away. He knew, from the times he had run away from the mission, how people stood when they were going to slighdy,
kick you.
He'd spent his ribs,
when
six
weeks
in the
mission hospital, after one kick stove in
and he wasn't quite right from
it
yet.
He most
definitely
knew
they were going to kick you.
But Benny
made
that long exhalation through his nose that
meant he
Really Weird Stories
.
John Shirley was
trying to
Want to Get Married,"
"I
keep
He'd never kicked Ross, or hurt him
his temper.
he probably never v^ould. He'd done nothing but help him, "I'm sorry, Benny," Ross said. "Can
we
have a Big
after
at
.
.
all,
all.
Mac and watch
Play-
boy channel?" "Sure.
We
deserve a break, right?" He'd turned back to his briefcase,
sorting papers. "I
had a
here for you, from those people at the
letter
World Inquirer!' don't like those people."
"I
"They're bloodsuckers. But the publicity play along. We'll get a
hope you
"I
"I'm not
are not
mad
TV commercial mad
at you.
me, Benny
at
Hey, here
There was something off about
it is.
good, so whatever
is
or something out of
it is,
we
it."
." .
.
Your
letter."
Brandy thought. His nose
his face.
seemed crooked or something. His feamres
a
distorted.
little
Must be
from being a dwarf, or a midget, or whatever he was. She
him
tried to picture cuddling with him, think of
when
but
feeling
.
as cute, like a kid,
she pictured him unzipping his pants, she got a skin-crawling .
.
Hit the pipe a few times, anything's
all right.
She pushed the pipe to the back of her mind. She had to play this
They were actually,
sitting in the
corner booth
was standing on the
leatherette seat, leaning
who
on the
bar,
They
also probably thought he
was her
He was wearing a
in the pocket; lot
of
women
he looked
stiffly
Or
they were black.
your hair
is
a
like
little
tie,
1
was very
letter
nice.
was very
guess you're looking at
a
little
"It's
It's fine.
Fine."
OK
Siamese
to notice
cat.
it,"
Really Weird Stories
handwriting was
at
really.
skin-" she began.
He
Brandy
You know how
liked you, because
She could see he was staring
His voice sounded
tube from the next room.
or old, except
Smelled nice too."
distractedly.
my
I
fat
nice, the
the scabs on her cheeks. There were only a few,
no!
and
don't want a black wife.
But he was talking sort of
"No no
big for his
Sunday School. "Did a
kid going to
that did are too big
blonde, and your
nice, the stationery
"I
Too
with a hanky tucked
write to you?" she asked.
"Not too many. The ones you.
pressed suit and
it
sitting.
he was twenty-eight
kid. Shit,
inches high. His head, though, was almost normal sized.
body.
table like
passed probably thought he was
was a
but the people
carefully.
of a Denny's restaurant. Ross,
the
like
smiled at her.
said. little
"My
.
.
.
it
was coming through
He had nice teeth. my sister has this crazy
fuh-" Watch your language, she
.
10
"I
Want to Get A4arried,"
.
John Shirley
.
how they jumped up and scratched me ... " "You know
told herself.
He seemed
Ross nodded.
to
are.
buy
bent over to pet him and he
I
Maybe where he was from
it.
didn't have a lot of hubba-heads picking at their skin
"There was a
He
Big and fat and mean."
nice of
you
she thought. Well,
to
buy
maybe
quite
me
was
it
make he
like
said,
fries for
work
to
the
little
what you can
out? Get
now
when
said.
A
was
just
it
fucking Denny's, the nearest one .
.
.
Brandy—who knew
now—and
this
if
a milkshake and
which was kind of a funny dinner. Brandy thought.
guy,
The waitress had done a double order;
else in his
really fancy place
waitress brought their order, steak for
was going
at the mission.
out.
Brandy
dinner,"
and he was hungry. But she'd pictured some
The
the time.
scowled and muttered something
munchkin voice she couldn't "It's
all
he said absently, "who scared me,
cat,"
they
when
take
she'd
first
come
to take their
she didn't look at Ross directly. But she stared at Brandy
she thought Brandy wouldn't notice.
Fuck you,
"You
bitch,
really
you think I'm
do look
nice,"
sick for kickin' with the
Ross
said, as the waitress
little
dude.
walked away. Like
he was trying to convince himself.
Her
She'd done her best.
was a
good, but
it
washed
with that
it,
out, so she'd
had
little
thin
shitty
hair
was almost
and dry from
hand soap
to corn-row
it.
that
gage, so
it
Delbert had,
off a pair of
him
at the
room, and she'd got twelve
was beginning
it'd
was
she'd
frizzed
new
pantyhose and
down
here
San Francisco station into
at the
helping her out, and then she'd ditched to the men's
all
the Payless drugstore. Getting the bus
was harder, but she'd conned a guy gone
was
when
She'd handwashed her dress and bor-
rowed Carmen's pumps and ripped
some makeup from
naturally blond, that
the hubba, and
all
LA
station
when
he'd
dollars for the guy's lug-
to click.
Ross started to cough. "Are you choking on something?" she asked, dreading
it,
"No—my doll hands.
because she didn't want to attract even more attention. asthma."
He
He was
found an
fishing in his pocket with
inhaler,
"Just rest a bit,
you don't have
So
was not
his health
thing, then,
if
at
one of
his
little
it.
to talk or nothin'," she said, smiling at him.
that great.
It
wouldn't seem too weird or any-
he died, or something.
me
"You
just
were
hella cute at the
swept
manager over
and sucked
off
my
Brandy
feet,
I
guess,"
wedding.
I
was surprised you
to be, like, best
man
said. "I
thought you
didn't have your
or something."
Really Weird Stories
.
John Shirley
"We had
me
lots
own room "Wow,
be married
to
doesn't want
But he has
"I
of
Come on
girls.
I
know what he would
.
he
say,
he checks everyone out, you know.
in,
come on
in, this is
our room, our
it
.
even has a kitchen! Anyway, look refrigerator
little
.
wasn't bolted to the wall. couldn't get shit for
do
till
.
." .
wave and a
"I
because
first,
to get married
Want to Get Married,"
.
It
."
it's
got a bar and a micro-
She noticed that the microwave oven
was
though, she probably
pretty old,
it.
like this refrigerator, this little refrigerator
by the
floor.
When we
get a big house we'll have a real kitchen!"
"Yeah?
He
Uhhh
.
.
.
When do
you think-"
interrupted her wdth a nervous dance of excitement, spreading his
arms to gesture
whole
at the
place.
beautiful, everything's like a palace,
"Uh
up, so
all lit
huh." She started to
sit
Las Vegas.
much money,
so
It's
everything's
on the edge of the bed, then noticed
round and buggy when he saw her
all
sofa,
like this place.'^
a treasure chest."
like in
got
"You
and
sat
down, kicked
stayed in the
there.
his eyes
She moved over to the
off her shoes. "It would've been nice
if
vinyl
we coulda
Golden Nu^et or one of them places—this Lucky Jack's
own casino, they don't got room service best, when Benny finds some work for me
okay, but they don't got their
"Oh—we'll
stay in the
.
is ."
.
in
Hollywood."
He
toddled toward her, imbuttoning his coat.
was going
to
Crack cocaine
town out by the
And
then
it
did he think he
do?
She wondered where you got a rock place.
What
is
airport.
hit her,
in Vegas.
She knew there'd be a
everywhere there's money.
She could find
and she stood up,
it.
Maybe
the edge of
She needed the cash
sharply.
He
.
.
.
took several sudden
down at him, feeling unreal. creature? "When Benny finds you
steps back, almost stumbling. She looked
Had
she been husded by this
little
some work? What do you mean?" She
felt
the tightening in her gut, the tease of imagined taste in her
mouth: the
taste of vaporized cocaine
She could almost
feel
and the other
shit
flowering in the glass mbe, coming to her.
Her
The
little
wood!"
He
on
the back of her
left
in
it.
smoke
heart started pounding,
hands twitching, fuck, going on a tw^ak with no dope picking at a scab
they put
the glass pipe in her hand; see the white
to
hit,
one hand
forearm.
guy was chattering something. "Oh, I'm working in Hollyactually puffed out his chest. "I'm going to star in an Arnold
Schwarzanegger movie!'
Really Weird Stories
II
.
12
"I
Want to Get Married,"
.
"You mean you're going to get
John Shirley
.
co-star
How much did you
with him. OK.
paid.'^"
He
fiddled with a
lamp cord.
"I
don't have the check yet."
"Jesus fucking Christ."
He
looked
looked
like
phemy! That
mouth open,
her with his
at
it
had been punched is
the Lord's name!
I
so round and red and wet
head with a
in his
can't have
tool.
my wife
"That
is
it
a blas-
talking like that!"
"Look—we're married now. We share everything right? How much we got to share? I need some cash, lover—for one thing, we didn't get a ring yet,
you
said
we'd get a diamond ring—"
Ross was pacing back and forth, looking the men's room, trying not to
money now—thirty
wet
like
a small child waiting for
his pants. "I don't
have very
much
dollars—"
"Thirty dollars! Jesus fuh
.
.
.
that's a kick in the butt.
What about
credit cards?"
He wrung his little
hands.
Made
her think of a squirrel messing with a
peanut. "I'm paying with American Express for the airplane
Benny
and hotel-
will stop the card!"
"American Express? Can you draw cash on the card?"
He
stopped scuttling around and blinked up
"Come
on, we're
gonna
at her. "I don't
know."
find out. We're going out."
"But we're Just Married!" "It's first.
not even dark out
We
can't
yet,
Hold your
Ross.
do anything without a
ring,
something, don't worry. I'm hella horny. But ring.
horses, okay? First things
can we? We're gonna do
we
can't
do
it
without a
That'd be weird don't you think?"
When
she
came
in,
the
little
with his legs crossed Indian
guy was
sitting in the
a pair of red
style, in
silk
middle of the bed, pajamas. There was
a Saint Christopher's medal around his neck. Probably couldn't get shit for that either. It
was
down
after midnight,
low,
and the
dimness he looked stuffed toy,
'til
on the Playboy
tall
sometime.
floor
like
lamp
a doll
He
had the overhead
in the corner
somebody had
he leaned back on the pillow
in
lights dialed
was unplugged. In the
on the bed, some a pose he'd maybe seen left
channel.
They'd got the
limit for the account, three
hundred cash on the Ameri-
can Express Card. They'd endured
all the stares in the American Express and she'd kept her temper with the giggly fat guy who thought they were performing at Circus Circus, but the hard part had been mak-
office,
Really Weird Stories
.
John Shirley
"I
Want to Get Married,"
ing Ross swallow the amazingly bullshit story about tion in California for the
gjrl
to
go shopping
how
was
it
for the ring alone
.
.
.
a tradi.
.
She'd had to cuddle him and stroke his crotch a few times.
His dick was a hard
little
Then she'd left him some shit about He'd made kissy faces at her as
thing like a pen-knife.
here with a bottle of pink Andre champagne, watching big-tit
she
gids shooting each other with uzis.
left.
Right now, stoned, she thought maybe she could give him a blow job
or something
if
fifty dollars in
she closed her eyes. She had gone through two hundred
hubba, her mouth was dry as a baked potato skin from
hitting the pipe.
"Let
me see the beautiful ring on the beautiful girl," he said, his voice He said something else she couldn't make out as she crossed the
slurred.
room
to
him and
"Hey, you said,
on
fending his clammy
She pointed der
sat
lingerie.
the bed, just out of reach.
know what?—Whoa, at the girl
"How'd you
little
slow down, not so
on the wall-mounted TV like
fast
me
up
to dress
screen; a
like that,
huh?
thing like that. I'd look hella good, just hella sexy in that.
can get some, there's an adult bookstore
open
all
night,
you can go
in
compadre^' she
hands away.
and look
that's
at
"No!" His voice was unexpectedly low.
got
some
movies and "I
I
girl in
laven-
need some-
I
know where
I
lingerie, they're
I'll—"
need you now!"
"Hey cool off—what I'm saying you could call Benny and ask him to wire you some money. We need some things. He could send it to the allnight check-cashing place on Las Vegas Boulevard, they got Western Union—" She picked up her purse and went unsteadily toward the bathroom. The room was warped, because of the darkness and what the crack had done to her eyes. It always did weird shit to her eyes. "Where you going?" "Just to the bathroom, do some lady's business." I could tell him Tm in my period, Latin guys wall steer clear from that, she thought. Maybe get another girl in here, give her a twenty to keep him occupied. "Why don't you call Benny while I'm in here, ask for some money, we need some stuff, hon!" She called, as she closed the bathroom door and fumbled through her purse with trembling fingers. Found the pipe, found the torn piece of
copper scrubbing pad she was using
Her thumb was was pounding
it
found the
lighter.
Her
heart
in her ears as she took the yellowish white dove of crack
from the inner pocket of the
dropped
for a pipe-screen,
already blackened and calloused from flicking.
purse, broke
in the pipe bowl, melted
Really Weird Stories
it
down
it
in half
with a thumbnail,
with the lighter
.
.
.
14
"I
Want to Get Married,"
.
John Shirley
.
There was a pounding on the door, near her knee. She stared at the lower part of the door, holding the smoke in for a moment, then slowly
Her
exhaled.
vision shrank
and expanded, shrank and expanded, and
then she heard, "You get out here and be with your husband!" Trying to
make
his voice all gravelly.
She had to laugh. She took another
much now. And
wasn't getting her off
the tweaky paranoia prod her with
Someone was going
to hear
its
him
and she'd be busted
on
hit. It
the edge of
around the corner of the high; she
that plunge into depression, that
see the pipe
she was feeling
cops. Lot of times they raped the
they were going to
yell;
in a
felt
hot icepick.
Vegas
jail.
come
in
and
She'd heard about Vegas
women they brought in.
they didn't
If
your looks, or you pissed them off more than once, they'd take you
like
out to the desert and use you for target practice instead of highway signs or bottles, and just leave you out there
"SHUT THE FUCKUP, ROSS!" that's
in
.
.
.
Oh
great,
don't want anybody to
come
she bellowed.
even worse. She hissed: "Be quiet!
I
Then
thought:
here—"
"They were
here, to bring towels,
for the ring alone! That's not any kind of tradition!
more
me women
and they told
don't go
You come on
out,
no
jokes!"
little
''You re a fucking
joke!" she yelled, as
little
he started kicking the door.
She turned the knob and slammed the door outward. Felt him bounce off
on
it
the other side.
bedframe.
A wail,
Heard him
slide across the rug, stop against the
then a shout of rage.
She thought again about a
will.
He
might have more money stashed
someplace, or some coming. But there was no to last out the night
was already
sell
hit the
tensely for the hotel's
—get that
some
call
bullshit story,
Circus Circus or
thing. star,
all
after the first
make
his thirty little
get-
pipe again. Part of her, tweakin', listened
in-
manager or the cops.
have him send the most cash possible.
the it,
call
Maybe
hustie a
and then he should get a heart attack or some-
he'd hustled her, telling her he had money,
the time he wasn't doing
false pretenses,
Rolex and
champagne—and maybe those
Or maybe the little guy could be sold himself somewhere. some place, or some kind of pervert. No, too hard to
He deserved
but
was going
through to his manager, make him give the manager dude
thousand bucks.
handle. Just
no
that shit,
She paused to
this thing
and she couldn't get him to a lawyer tonight and he
suspicious. She'd have to just get his
bucks—twenty some now pajamas,
way
fucking
little
shit,
getting her to
was a big
marry him under
parasite, kick his miniature ass
.
.
.
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
"I
A pounding low on was pardy open.
the
bathroom door
stood to one side and peered
my
ing to ruin
in a picture
me
now. The door
again. Angrier
It'll
"What
in at her.
What
that?
is
going to get us put
Shit, you're
career!
with
in
jail
that in
is
and you're go-
be a big scandal and Arnold won't want to be
He
and—!"
had to break off
for wheezing,
and she
heard him puff a couple of times on his inhaler, which was funny,
was
like
swishing arc. Fell
looked so
in
how
it
her pipe.
He jumped
She kicked the door open.
for
...
fucker was scared to put a limb through, but he
Little
your hands? Drugs!
Want to Get Married,"
much
some reason
one hand and
on
his
little
For a
butt.
like
one of her
that
made
back, narrowly avoiding
moment she
kids, like
felt
its
bad because he
he was going to
cry,
and then
her even madder, and she stepped out, pipe
lighter in the other,
the side of the head with her heel.
and kicked
He
at
him, clipping him on
spun, and blood spattered the
yellow bedspread.
She paused to slowly at
him
hit the pipe,
as she
took a
hit.
melting another rock.
Her mouth was
Then she came
starting to taste like the
more than coke, she wasn't getting good hits, she needed cash, get some cash and get a cab. He was up on his feet, scuttling toward the door to the hall. He was just tall enough to operate the knob. There was no way she could let the pipe
filter
little
fucker go, and
room
Vegas, fuck that. She crossed the
went,
trailing
to let the rollers get her in
no way she was going
smoke
like
turning to block the door.
in three strides, exhaling as she
a locomotive, doing an end run around him,
He backed
making some kind of ugly hiccuping
away, his face in darkness.
noise.
He
being now, in the dimness and through the kind of
little
gnome, or
like
one of those
human dope; he looked like some
little
fuckers in that movie
some sneaky little run around in the dark spots and pull shit on you. Maybe the microwave. If you didn't turn it up much Gremlins, which was what he was
boiled things inside,
it
suaded him to check Unless he'd told the
like,
could look in
girl
without
like
He was
didn't look like a
thing going to
it
just sort
of
he'd had a stroke. She had per-
her, they didn't
know
she was here.
with the towels.
was here?" Brandy decided, he wouldn't have told Probably, He didn't answer. much to some cheap hotel maid. So there was nothing stopping it. He mrned and scrambled under the bed. "That ain't gonna do you no "You
tell
good you
anybody
little
I
fucker," she whispered.
Really Weird Stories
15
i6
John Shirley
Want TO Get Married,"...
"I
oo oo oo
Ross heard her moving around up
The nuns, when they were he would hide
sion;
like
mad
him, would hunt him through the mis-
some
a rodent in
with asthma. She was going to get him
him and
and he
in
closet
till
they found him.
dust under the bed was furring his throat, his lungs.
The kick
He pictured her in a nun's habit.
there.
at
him with those
kick
spit
He
up blood.
into a corner,
hard, pointy shoes until his ribs stove
tried to shout for help, but
coarse whisper between wheezes.
He wheezed
and kick him. She'd
He
it
came out a
sobbed and prayed to the Virgin
and Saint Jude.
He
heard her muttering to herself.
He
now, to a corner of the room.
would hear
heard her move purposefully,
heard glass break. Surely someone
and come?
that
What was
He
she doing?
What had
"Little hustlin' tight-ass
she broken?
motherfucker," she hissed,
down on
her knees
now, somewhere behind him. Something scraped across the squirmed about to of
it,
was the
see. It
broken the bulb, and
with a
broom handle
jags
was
still
plugged
broken off
He
tried to
tall
it
He
shoved
in the socket as she
scream and rolled
thought he could
She shoved the thing
at
like
an old widow
under the bed, shov-
of blue sparks jumped from the bulb
aside.
glass swoing to follow him, sparking. ing.
it
it
at him.
A cluster
in.
He
it
at his face.
The lopsided
crown of
king's
could smell shreds of rug burn-
feel his heart bruising against his
him
he
floor lamp. She'd broken the top
she was wielding
trying to get at a rat, sliding
ing the long brass pole of It
now
rug;
again, forcing
him back
farther
breastbone. .
.
.
Then
it
stopped moving. She had moved away. Giggling.
Moving around the bedRoss
felt
her fingers close around his ankle. Felt himself dragged back-
wards, his face burning in the dusty rug, the back of his head smacking against the
bed
slats.
He
frustration, as she jerked
He
clawed and kicked
gave out a wail that tightened into a shriek of
him out from under the bed.
at her.
nal smell, big slapping hands.
head rang with
it.
He
She was
One
just
a great blur, a strange medici-
of the hands connected hard and his
began to gag, and found himself unable
to
lift
his
arms. Like one of those dreams where you are trapped by a great beast,
you want to run but your limbs won't work. She was carrying him somewhere, clasped against her, trapped in her arms
He
gagged again. Heard her
fucking puke on
me you
little
say,
like
a
dog
to
be washed.
from somewhere above, "Don't you
freak."
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
"I
His eyes cleared.
on
The
this side.
early
Want to Get Married,"
He saw she was carrying him .
.
it
In less than a second she
had crammed him
never quite
made
it
the skin of his hands and face; his head
cheek smashed up against the cold
glass.
out of his throat.
inside
legs again, feel the glass lining of the
crammed
He
closing door.
Crushed
He
into a
feel
box.
little
tunity to close the
But
feel his
into a corner, his
in
both her hands,
against his feet with the
her whole weight against the door.
A
box. Crushed into a
little
He pressed his palms flat against the glass, chest, deliberately pulling
could
found some strength and
enough so she could press
could
He
it.
microwave oven against
kicked and she swore at him and grabbed his ankles stuffed his legs in far
The
.
''Bennnnyyyyyyyyr But
arms and
toward a big box, open
place had an old, used, cheap microwave oven.
ones had been rather big
...
little
.
.
.
tucked his knees against his
deeper into the oven.
Felt her using the
oppor-
door on him.
now he had some
leverage.
He
used
all
his strength
and a
lifetime
of frustration and kicked.
The door smacked outward, banging footing;
he heard her
dropped out of the oven, his small feet.
against her chest. She lost her
backwards, even as he scrambled back and
fall
fell
on
to the floor himself, landing painfully
She was confused, cursing incoherently, trying to get up.
He laughed, feeling light-headed and happy. He sprinted for the living room, jumping over her outstretched leg, and ran into the bedroom area. He could see the door, the way out, clearly
ahead of him, unobstructed. It was like she was climbing a mountain to do it. Someon the back of her head. The little fucker. The pipe. \X/Tien had
Brandy got up. thing wet it
got broken.^
make
It
was broken, beside the
Shit-maybe the She
her
felt
little
lip curl
hooked on the wire
She grabbed the stem.
It'd
fucker had already gotten out the door.
into a snarl,
The lamp hadn't
left
air
and ran toward the door-her ankle
stretched across the rug, about three inches over
drawn from the bed frame
The
sink.
a knife.
to the dresser.
cord, she thought, as she pitched face
the cord that way
knocked out of
it,
.
.
first
onto the
rug.
She
.
her, she
mrned onto her back
choking, trying
to orient herself.
The
little
bottle in his
fucker was standing over her, laughing, with the little
hands; he clasped the bottle by the neck.
Really Weird Stories
champagne
A narrow
bar
17
i8
"I
Want to Get Married,"
of light
came
He was pagne
.
between the
in
John Shirley
.
curtains, spotlighting his
round red mouth.
towering over her, from that angle, as he brought the cham-
bottle
down "A
hard on her forehead.
BURGLAR KILLED MY NEW BRIDE!"
SOBS WORLD'S SAIALLEST MAN The newlywed bride of Ross Taraval, the world's smallest man was murdered by an intruder on the first night of their Las Vegas honeymoon. Ross himself was battered senseless by the mystery man— and woke to find that his wife had been struck unconscious, raped, and murdered. Her throat had been cut by .
.
.
the broken glass of the drug-crazed
killer's
The
"crack" pipe.
burglar so far has not been located by poHce. "It
broke
my
heart," said the
game
have learned that to survive in
rooster of a
little
I
you must be stronger than other men! So
And
I
have not given up
my fame and fortune
my search
my
world when you are
"but size,
this
man,
I
will
go on
woman,
for the right
.
.
.
to share
..."
Ross hints that he's on the verge of signing a deal to do a
buddy movie with reer
Arnold Schwarzanegger.
his hero,
looms up ahead
some deserving woman!" Ross If
you'd
smallest Inquirer,
like to
send a
we'll
to
forward the
big cait
with
says.
letter to
man, you can write and
A
for a small guy! "I'd like to share
him
Ross Taraval, the world's care of the
letter to
him
.
.
Weekly World
.
Really Weird Stories
Will the Chill
"I refuse to
"If
you
speak to him," declared Tondius Will.
don't, there will
be no more sponsor," replied Great Senses.
The bioq^ber computer paused,
its
ing-yellow to assertion-blue; the
programming room's shadows
wall of lights changed
fore the brighter blue so that the oval
from consider-
chamber resembled the
fled be-
interior of
a great turquoise egg.
The
ship's
computer
asserted: "Sports-eyes
is
serious.
No interview, no
sponsorship."
"Very well. Let there be an end to
"Nonsense. You cannot Great Senses
Contest and you
owned by
amid the blue of
Sports-eyes.
"I'll
find a
knew
it
way
And
there
is
"You cannot
the
immense
cost of the planet-
to sponsor
it
myself." But even as he said
And you know how
Latest
homeworld
If
you refuse to speak with
"No
I
dress?
What
need. Nudity
"I'll
like to
And
he'll
come
touch you in greeting-
The
self-cleaning walls of the ship ab-
is
is
speak to the reporter. But only on the screen.
the present custom?"
sanctioned."
Will uirned and strode to the tiary level,
they
spittle.
"All right," said Will.
Should
Tondius
fad."
Will the Chill spat in disgust.
sorbed the
it,
was impossible.
here personally. lips.
without
this starship
.
the reporter, you'll have to talk to the show's director.
the
live
And
." .
"Sports-eyes has legal access to this ship.
on
that."
panel of honeycomb-cTystal glow-
assertion.
cannot Contest without a contestship.
push-coils to consider
Will
it."
without Contest. Mina's death proved
said, its fifty-by-fifty-meter
ing red for regret
is
live
communications.
Really Weird Stories
He
lift,
rode the compression tube to
glimpsed
his reflection in the glass
ter-
of
John Shirley
20 Will THE Chill
He was
the communication room's inactive screen.
golden-skinned,
compact but muscular, utterly haidess, his bald scalp gleaming with metal hookup panels-for his physical guidance-rapport with Great Senses and the contestship-set flush with his cranium. His dark-eyed, pensive features, already cold, intensified as he approached the screen.
His
A The
hardened to thin
full lips
screen flickered
spaceship shaped
and WiU eyes
lines; his hairless
brows creased.
him
nulgrav cushion darted from a wall niche to uphold
and
The
alive.
an
like
as
he
sat.
Sports-eyes communications ensign, a
eye, flashed
onto the screen. The sign faded,
faced a spindly, nude, gray-haired
man
with
tiny, restive
blue
seemed permanently puckered.
lips that
The stranger ceremoniously blew Will a kiss. Will merely nodded. The man moved uneasily in his seat; his shoulders bobbed, his thin cheeks ticked, his
spoke
prominent Adam's apple bounced. "Eric Blue here."
"They
rapidly.
me, Tondius
call
me
Blue the Glue. This
is
He
a guh-reat honor for
A very great honor."
Will.
Will shrugged.
Blue the Glue pounced that
you didn't want to
Will
nodded
on
Will the Chill. "Will,
my understanding
it's
give this interview. Correct?"
slightly.
"Well, uh, Will—heh—why
that?
is
Can you be
frank?
I
mean, you're
Tideholder for four Contests, you've been a planet-hurlin' waverider for
many longuns now. Twice my so you'll
live
another century at
other century? As far as
spoken to you
"What
is
lifetime.
I
know
You've earned two replenishings,
least. Is this
the last interview for an-
only one other SprtZ
your entire—"
in
the pertinence of this?" Will asked sharply. Blue's voice was
abundant with hidden meanings. His face was not he were back on "It's
draw.
who
wished
spoke with no faces
is
dropping
off,
at
all.
WiU. Though some say
planet-hurler since Elessar in 2270.
Still,
don't caper and jape for the cameras like Svoboda?
lessly
up
damn
those
his face. Will
And your image is important to your audience-
your audience-draw
you're the best "I
Five, listening to
relevant to your image.
And
NewZ holorag has
I
you don't—?"
don't brag end-
on my prowess and gossip about lovers like Browning? Munger? Is that your complaint?"
I
don't soak
publicity like
"Look, Will, there's a difference between, uh, maintaining dignity—snd being cold.
And
you're cold,
man. That's why they
call
"There's a difference between being emotive and
"Look reporter,
here, let
my job
me
is
put
it
to
you
you Will the-"
artistic,
Blue."
in the plainest terms. I'm a Sportsize
public relations-yot/V^ failed to give
me
anything to
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Will the Chill
relate to that public, Will. Sportsize stars
need audience appeal. They
have to be likable characters. They have to be likable-ah-/b/^5. They
have to be fellows people can identify with. Not cold and distant au-
tomatons—" "Ail
coldly
waveriders are cold and distant, as you put
and
distantly.
maintain themselves in the public eye. But
Not
inside. It
is
Blue," said Will,
it.
"But most of them pretend they're not, it is
in
order to
not coldness, not
really.
the aura of unflinching and unremitting dedication."
Blue the Glue looked starded. "Well. Philosophical Waverider.^ Image
Now weVe making progress. The
BoyZ might be
able to
do something
with that." Will snorted. "Will,
wath
I
wonder
if
you'll
be kind enough to examine a holotape
me and give me your analysis
of
feed
it. I'll
have
I
into your screen, with
it
your permission." Without waiting for permission. Blue punched a button and the screen was
weeks
filled
with a simplified holoimage of the
Contest with Opponent Brigg in system GV5498.
Will's
Two
planets a|>
proached one another, one brown-black, crescent-edged with
atmosphere swirling turmoil; the other. chrome-blue sized
like
masspiece,
Will's
silver, its
shining,
the shield of Perseus. Both were approximately Earth-
and devoid of
life,
as
was customary.
Relative to the viewer's plane
of perspective, the planets closed obliquely, Brigg's
hand corner and
final
condensed action) of
(time-lapsed, sped-up to twenty minutes
Will's
from the lower
left-
from the upper righthand corner of the rectangu-
lar screen.
How diluted the public impression The
right-hand planet,
of Contest! Will thought.
GV5498 Number
Four,
showed white pushcoil
equator and Southern Pole. Atmospheric disturbances and
flares at its
volcanic explosions roiled the contiguous faces of the planets as gravitational fields
meshed and
struggled.
Involuntarily, Will twitched
hookup
and flexed
his
arms
again, adjusting pushcoils, controlling the
momenmm,
and mass
as tilt,
if
he were
impems,
in
spin,
resistance of his masspiece.
Seconds before impact,
as
dead seas boiled and
ice
caps fractured, as
continents buckled, the pushcoil on the South Polar face toward Will's
Opponent
flared
bing the North
nent expected
and forced the pole
to
swing back,
tilting
the axis, lob-
Polar bulge forward, precipitating collision before
Oppo-
it.
Opponent's planet took the worst of the
collision forces.
impact, the orgasmic rending of twx) worlds:
Really Weird Stories
more
And
after the
of Will's masspiece
re-
21
22
John Shirley
Will THE Chill
remained of Opponent's. So Tondius Will
intact than
mained
And took Title from
Contest.
The two
won
the
Brigg.
Sports-eyes contestships, Will's
and
were glimpsed
Brigg's,
speeding to safety from the still-exploding bodies—
The image Blue,
vanished, the face of Blue the Glue returned. "Now," said
"why did you fire
Opponent, during the "It
on your South Pole,
the face toward
should be obvious," Will interrupted wearily. "You must have noticed
my masspiece had
that
that pushcoil
last stage's final—"
more mass
a
more
irregular
spherism than
North Polar hemispheres.
in the
I
Brigg's.
There was
applied torque in order to
use the club-end of the planet with the greatest force of
momentum—this
can be useful only in rare instances, and Brigg probably hadn't seen fore.
Most impacts
"I see. Beautiful.
viewer
who
it
be-
are initiated along the equatorial swell."
Uh, such
niceties are too often lost
on
the Sports-eyes
sees—"
"Niceties! It
was the most obvious ploy of the game. Brigg perceived
instantly but too late;
most important
he couldn't compensate
plays of the
game
in time. Niceties!
are the early stages
when
it
The
masspieces
are moved into place for the final approach to designated impact zone. What is this whole affair to you. Blue? What can you know of the exquisite visions of hookup? You see only very limited aspects of Contest. You
observe composite images, you see them in timelapse and you see only brief flashes of the
months of preparation. There
is
no comprehension
of the internal artistry requisite—we spend weeks at a time in hookup,
and
assessing
tasting
and
physically experiencing every
known
factor in
hundreds of millions of cubic kilometers of space!" Will was not aware
was shouting. ''What
that he
is
it
to
youf
A
contest between two
waveriders hovering off dead planets which they
seem to— to shove
about by remote control, kicking—^'c^'wg.'-the planets out of orbit and tossing
them
greatest
the
'flight'
bowling
at
one another—and the piece surviving impact with the
mass determines Winner. That's of planets, their
balls in the
You huzzah at garganman mrnings; they seem like colossal
hands of mites riding
drink and clap your hands
when you
all it is,
tiny
to you.
specks and you
see the wracking
swill
your
and cracking of
You enjoy the sight of planets cracked like eggshells! Idiots! What do you know of the possession of men by worlds? Can you even impact.
for
an instant imagine—"
Will stopped.
swarmed
He
swallowed, sat back, untensing. Specks of black
his vision.
Blue was grinning.
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley "I
suppose," said Tondius Will ruefully, "that youVe proud of yourself
now,
eh, Blue?
was
Will's tone "It's
good
How
no doubt.
tirade,
you got a
You'll
crow about
out of Will the Chill."
rise
Though
to see passion in you, Will!
We
really, can't
little
bitter ice.
your meaning. But
entirely get
asm. Will?
"I
You recorded my
SprtZwrtrZ Club.
at the
it
Will the Chill
why
can build your ratings
you leak us
just a little
you so
are if
have to admit
tight
you'll give
of your love
I
I
don't
with your enthusi-
me more
of that. And,
life?"
have no lover: male, female, or bimale. None."
"No? None? Except your masspieces and playing But you had a lover once, didn't you, Tondius?" Will
felt his
face growing hard
perhaps
fields,
.
.
.
and dark with anger.
Blue spoke rapidly. "Just for the sake of accurate historical perspective, listen, please,
ment here or
and answer
my question—a yes or no will do.
read to you.
I'd like to
false. Is this true? 'In
years;
was
Title. It
want
to
know
if
what
have a docu-
I
it
states
is
true
A.D. 2649 Tondius Will's fourth confrontation
with Enphon brought him
running for
I
at last into the public eye
said
he had prepared for
Enphon's reputation doubtless warranted
and put him
this
this,
in the
Contest for eight but eight years
is
unprecedented even for a waverider.
known
"'It is
permitted to
visit
the waverider—he avoided
years he refused to screen to her for
need
is
just
distractions. For eight
best advised to understand
for utter concentration. Apparently,
She hovered
all
Threeface, was not
more than a period of ten minutes
once a month. The lover of a waverider his
Mina
that at this time Will's lover,
Mina
did not understand.
out of scanrange in her father's yacht and, minutes
before impact, she dove on a sure course for the impact zone between masspieces, dispatching an emergency transmission to Tondius Will: I've
gone
to
Impact Zone. Avert your masspiece,
love me. Will.
Or
Tondius
I die.
His Great Senses
Will's thoughts
ure the scope of two loves.
lose Contest
dutifully relayed this
can only be conjecmred.
He
because you
He
message to
had to meas-
found he could not permit himself
to
surrender or even stalemate Contest simply to save Mina. She was
trapped between impacting planets, she died there and, though Will
won
Contest,
it
was
this victory that also
won him
the
cognomen
Will
the Chill-'" "Yes," Will said softly,
control.
heart
is
though inwardly he shook with the effort
"It's all true. It's true."
far
more
chill
And
than mine
Will broke contact and strode
Really Weird Stories
at self-
he added: "Your heart, Blue-your
will ever be."
to the
hookup chambers.
23
John Shirley
24 Will THE Chill OO OO CO
Hookup
flushed Will's circulation,
winnowing
to extern.
cups gripping his shaven pate,
at his back, the
crowded instrument panel—all seemed
the
his
hookup from yoga
blood, unclouding his brain. Refreshed, he adjusted
The cushions
from
fatigue poisons
to vanish.
He
closed his eyes
and saw the universe. senses (but not the mind) of Great Senses were his, now.
The
scanned
first
through
two months; the
for
masspiece.
And
had been orbiting Roche Five overwheeling the Roche
sys-
Dominating the right-hand
natively familiar.
his vision: Five, fifth planet
golden-red
in
He
alien constellations
tem seemed almost scope of
visible light.
He
from Roche's
Star,
was
bulking half
Will's
Contest
patching into a drifting Sportseyes camera
satellite's
half
light,
shadow.
in
Five
above the
twi-
light border, north-south over the face of the Earth-sized planet.
The
he could see himself:
signal,
contestship, with its
his contestship soaring
outspread solar panels and the beaked globe
its
at
forward end, resembled a metallic vulture scanning the barren
planet face beneath.
Not
He from
more than
desert
looked up from visible
and
Five,
down
survey crew was
and sought for Opponent. Focusing away his
way down ("down") through
down through
letting frequencies riffle
cards, each card with
for a
Queen
its
wrong—
there.
the longer wave lengths.
sorted through the transmissions of the star
ground sources,
up
ruins
he worked
light,
infrared's multifarious blaze,
He
The
quite barren, thought Will the Chill.
there's
by
itself,
like
discarded back-
an endless deck of
He was looking He worked his way
wave-length-identifying signet.
of Diamonds. She wasn't transmitting.
("up"), toward shorter
wave
lengths,
themselves ten thousand times apiece.
and ten thousand
He skimmed
hairs split
X-rays,
and,
through hookup's multifaceted neutrino-focused eyes, spotted her, traced her spoor of nuclear radiation— she fusing, traveling overspace, so Will's
was using a hydrogen-scoop,
Great Senses (constantly monitor-
ing gravwave ripplings) wouldn't notice her change of position. She
was
far
from Three, her own masspiece.
What was
she doing? Then-Will shuddered.
had bounced from waited.
It
his contestship.
came no more. He
He
felt it
A
strong probe signal
again,
and
again.
He
traced the signals and found that the
source was Opponent's contestship, fusing to travel unnoticed in ordi-
nary space. Will tied in with Great Senses. "Did you feel that?"
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley "Someone
Will the Chill
tasted our defense screens with a probe signal," Great
Senses replied, voice particularly mechanical coming through hookup channels.
"Who was
was Opponent!
"It
it?"
She's traveling through upper space so
we wouldn't
came from her ... no reason for her to assess us from that direction, surreptitiously. She knew in this stage we'd expect to find her wave-riding. What do you think? Is she testing our be
think the probe
likely to
reflexes or trying to
kill
us?"
"Three sleeps gone there was a disguised Opponent drone— I recognized
what
for
it
it
was because
was maneuvering
it
which a Sports-eyes vehicle would have no
use.
It
in a pattern for
was probing our de-
fense systems."
"You didn't
tell
was waiting
"I
"She plans to
me."
my
for confirmation of
kill
suspicions.
We
have
it
"That's within the scope of Contest rules. She has the right to
Under
kill
you.
certain conditions."
accepted technically but
"It's
No
not considered sporting.
it's
one's
an Opponent for half a thousand Contests."
killed
we
"Shall
"No.
I
kill
her
first?"
shall Contest,
brought her
and
this far. She's
I'll
defend myself. She's inexperienced. Luck
too impulsive to take the Tide."
"But she has innersight. Admittedly she's unjudicious, yet.
now."
me."
Her Opponent second to last They said it was a leak."
died in deep space
litde precision as .
.
.
She admitted
nothing. "I
didn't know." Will snorted. "So, she's a
killer.
Let her
kill if
she can.
That's all—I'm going back to scanning-"
"One moment. Do you want me "Yes.
I'll
He
ah—"
self to
hesitated.
Why
lie
keep the planet
gravity.
ten."
I
He
But
want
to
I've
got to go
down to—
to Great Senses? But he couldn't bring him-
voice the truth. So he said: "I'm going
scoops. All that dust— there we'll
to maintain ship's gravity?"
be going planetside. After hookup.
to inspect the fusion
corrosion on the pushcoils.
may be
in this orbit for
down
And
another sleep. Until then, maintain
be grav-adjusted-I might be going planetside
fairly of-
broke contact with Great Senses.
in the
programming room the
lights
of Great Senses went from
questioning-green to doubting-orange.
The atmosphere of long.
So he wore
Five
was breathable, but too
rarefied to nourish
him
a respirator. Also, a thermalsuit against the bitter cold.
Really Weird Stories
2.5
26
John Shirley
Will THE Chill the cutting winds. That
was
Unweaponed
all.
(against the advice of
Great Senses: Opponent skulked nearer), he leaped from the airlock of
He stretched, getting the He walked a few meters to
the lander.
wieldiness of planetside back into
his limbs.
a large boulder, clambered atop
it,
and looked about him. Just below, the double-domed lander squatted on spidery limbs. Be-
yond the
lander,
Anemic
many
kilometers across the battered yellow plain, rose
column of the nearest pushcoil, the planetmover.
the shining
sunlight glanced
shadows of
from
its
argent hide, light streaks chasing the
striated dust clouds skating
low
in the bluegray sky. It
was
afternoon, but overhead a few stars guttered, visible in thin atmosphere.
The
pushcoil
beyond.
column towered, broad and
clamped the ground; steam and fumes skirt:
austere, into the clouds
lower end widened into a compression
Its
trailed
skirt that
from vents
in the conical
the column was converting minerals into energy, building
for conversion into magnetic push. at regular intervals
and
uniformly
power
There were ten such columns placed
about the planet. Put there by the Sports-eyes Corpo-
ration for Will the Chill's exclusive use.
Made from
metals extracted from Five's core, the columns were pow-
ered geothermally. Sports-eyes had built hundreds worlds. Worlds
now
asteroid belts
and clouds of
on hundreds of and
dust; crushed
dis-
persed for the amusement of jaded millions on the homeworld.
The
Sports-eyes
they were gone.
crew had departed months before; Will was glad that
He
hadn't spoken to another
human
on
being, except
screen, since Mina's death, years before.
Will turned and gazed west. Roche's Star was low, opposite the column. Long shadows reached from the endless scatter of boulders and crater rims.
The
meteorite-scored
hills
to the north stretched to
him
like
the pitted, skeletal fingers of a dead giant. Will strode into the grasp of those peninsular fingers.
In those
hills
were the
ruins,
and the sunharp, and the
voices. Will
began to climb, anticipation growing. In the ship. In the
Time its
hookup chamber.
In the
to re-examine the playing field.
slant
and
tional energy.
An
hookup.
tested the solar wind, noted
himself in somatic-eidetic impressions of gravita-
exquisitely fine
star systems.
monstrous
seat. In
strength.
Then he immersed between
He
hookup
On
and
this skein
resiliently
powerful fabric flexed
a star and ten planets
spiders, electromagnetic grips adhering
them
moved
like
to the field.
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Will the Chill
bending the webwork. The gravitational
field
was the playing
field,
and
He
had
Will examined each component's interaction with the whole.
WiD needed no
numerical calculation.
No
holotrigonometry.
never got beyond the multiplication tables. All he needed was hookup
and Great Senses and the
skill,
tor, astrogator, life-systems
the innersight. Great Senses was naviga-
watch.
Hookup was
Will's cerebral connec-
tion with the ship's electronic nerves, a binding of synthetic and biological
was the
neural systems. Will's
instinct,
the athleticism, the determination.
Determiner of destinations.
He knew the ship physically. The ship's cognizance of (and gamma
rays,
rays, nuclear
De hipbone
interaction with) visible light, cosmic
forces— these he
felt in his loins. Physically.
connected to de backbone; the electro
is
The
to the magnetic.
seat of his magnetic sensorium
is
was
connected his spine.
This chakra he experienced in the region of his heart. Electricity
the
in
heart. Physically.
He comprehended
the gravitational field through shoulders, legs,
arms. Very physically. In loins, light-packets. In heart, electromagnetism. In limbs, gravity. In
hookup they
his brain.
integrated as variations
from
wave-particle theme: in
Sometimes, Tondius Will remembered a poem, one of many
the ship's library had recited to him.
Energy
on the
is
the only
life
and
It
was Blake
.
.
.
is
the body:
and Reason
is
the
bound or outward
circumference of Energy.
Energy
is
Eternal Delight.
Innersight hookup.
On one level he knew the vast gravitational field in
term of mass and weight, gross proportions.
Take
He
it
down, another and broader condition of
unity.
penetrated the vacillation of gravitrons, the endless alternation
between wave and
particle
forms, slipped the knife edge of his
innersight into the transitory sequence between
wave
particle into wave; waves, here, revealed as particles
and
into particle
and
particles ex-
posed: packets of waves.
His brain took a playing
And
Picture,
recorded and
filed
it.
He had memorized
the
field.
that
was enough
Really Weird Stories
for
now.
He willed
internalization.
Hookup
shut
27
28
John Shirley
Will THE Chill
down
connection with Great Senses.
his
He
sat
up and yawned. But
his
eyes glittered.
He was hungry, and there was no hookup here to feed and refresh him. He was weary, but the hills drew him on. There was only the sighing wind, hiss of breath in respirator, clink of small
crunch of
boot steps
his
trudged the rim of a
in sand.
And
slopes, the red nipple of iron oxides in the
of
were the
this crater
on
his belt,
He
the wide-open, the empty.
admiring the crystalline
crater,
tanks
air
ruins, upthrusting
glitter streaking its
impact basin.
On the far side
along the broken ridges
exposed spinal segments. Light splashed off the sunharp,
still
like
half a kilo-
meter away.
The sun was westering behind the mesas, shadow wings to enfold the bluer horizons. Will
slid
down
sisting his boots.
the
embankment, enjoying the earthy
uneven walls
stretch of ragged ruins,
The
hills
heft of hillside
re-
He reached the floor of the gully and picked his way over
rough shin-high boulders to the base of the first
the jet sky overhead spread
were not simple
hills—they
hill
like
whose crown exposed
the
battlements above.
were barrows, grave mounds
cloak-
ing the remains of a once-city. Here, an earthslide triggered by a meteorite strike
had exposed a portion of the
metal and cracked glass and tired
city's
plastics,
skeleton.
The
walls of rusted
throwing jagged shadows in the
fading daylight, were notched and scored with age, erosion.
But there were no signs of war, on the battlements
.
.
ruins.
Genetic Manipulation experiments had released an un-
.
stoppable plague, robbing the world of most of
No
offspring were born to lower
People they were, of a large air
These were not broken
and
all its fertility.
forms, or to the world's people.
with tendrils instead of boned fingers and
sort,
golden whiteless eyes
life
its life
like
polished stones.
The
plants withered, the
Those who survived, one hundred thousand on chemically synthesized food, were so long-lived they were
thinned, the land died.
living
nearly immortal. Childless, living without societal evolution in an endlessly
bleak landscape, they surrendered to a growing collective sense of
futility.
A new
religion arose, preaching fulfillment
death, advocating mass suicide.
A
vote was taken,
The remaining one hundred thousand decided together,
and
all
at
once
For so Will had been
He
.
.
beyond the its tally
to die.
To
veil
of
unanimous.
die by poison,
.
told.
The
voices in the sunharp told
him
this.
passed through the maze of roofless ruins, coming to the broad
square at their radial center.
He beheld
the sunharp. Everything here had
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Will the Chill
decayed but the sunharp.
The diamond-shaped
A
sunharp's frame was constructed of light silvery tub-
of sunset, veering lances of red, broke the thin dust
final rays
ing in the subsonic. Struck
full
Till
by corpuscular
now
it
had been
sing-
rays, its netting vibrated
resonated internally, interpreted the sun
sound waves, photons sang
man
for sifting
light impulses.
cloud and struck the coppery sunharp wires.
visibly,
monument.
coppery netting was woven densely between the frames,
and carrying
The
built at the end, as a
endure a nova.
Built to
ing.
had been
It
shiver.
Translated into
out. Choirs of alien races,
chorus of hu-
subhuman voices, wolves baying and birds singing: all in concert. The wind sounds of thousands of landscapes (each landscape altering the wind song as Bach's inventions vary the hymnal theme) combining into a single voice. The nature of rippling endlessly defined voices,
in song.
more than
Will listened, and
Glue had seen
listening:
Will's face just then,
he heeded.
And
if
Blue the
he might not have recognized him;
he did not associate joy with Will the
Chill.
Royal purple gathered in the ground hollows, dusty darkness collected in the
mesas
dead windows of the at the
ruins, the stars
lower frequencies, softly moaning to to
cosmic
Other
rays.
shuddered and, for an
him
shone more
horizon swallowed the sun. The sunharp's
abruptly, as
it
sighs
came
instant,
starlight
call
the
fiercely,
dwindled to
and occasionally pinging
to replace the sunharp's voice. Will
dread enfolded
his heart.
But the fear
always did before they spoke to him.
He
left
smiled.
"Hello," he said aloud.
There came a
reply,
one hundred thousand voices speaking the same
word at once, a mighty susurration in an alien tongue. A greeting. Then they spoke subvocally, in his own tongue, echoes within the For the first
fifth
skull.
time you have returned to us (said the voices). But the
time and the three thereafter you came alone.
Why
have you
now
brought a companion? "I
have no companions," said Tondius Will.
We see now that you is
a lurking he
who
do not know about the one who
follows you.
It
does the bidding of a distant she. The he comes to
destroy you.
"Then he
is
an assassin," said Will
sadly, "sent
by
my Opponent.
She
She has breached the rules of Contest. Death-dealing must be done by Opponent or by her machines only Still, I will not pro
becomes test.
reckless.
Let him come."
Really Weird Stories
29
30
John Shirley
Will THE Chill
The time
not
is
yet,
Tondius
Will,
be soon?"
"Will the time
You doubt us. You wonder if you are the One prophesied by the Gatekeeper. You are he. Ten thousand times in ten thousand millenniums we have attempted transit to the fuller spheres. Ten thousand times
we
have been denied.
One hundred thousand cannot enter as
the Gatekeeper, unless they
by a
sailor
of inner seeing.
Simultaneity.
We
one, said
become onemind, or unless they are guided were bound together by a united death.
We
We plunged together into
need a guide to lead us
Do
out.
that tenuous Place, this between.
not doubt
You
us.
are
He. The
Gatekeeper whose seven stony visages exhale blacklight said to
who are
you through spheres above
wields spheres below can guide
He.
We know your history,
Tondius
You
.
on moimtainous Reginald
"My great-grandfather ." Was a Terran trapeze artist. "My great-grandmother ." Was a surfer on the vast seas .
IV,
ultimate
and died on Thornslope.
.
.
wave
.
.
.
course
.
.
.
ski
.
Will.
"My father ." Was an orbitglider, a great athlete of space race. "My mother ." Was a freefall ballerina for a space-station ballet company. ." "My grandfather Was an Earthborn snow skier of Earth who journeyed to the .
One
us:
.
of terra-formed Venus, and once rode a
for seven days.
"And
." came to waveriding When your mother killed herself en route to Earth from your father's doom on Reginald IV, and the captain of the transport adopted you; he was himself a retired waverider. "And I know your history, and how you came to die, one hundred I
.
thousand
We
at a single stroke,
are as
.
trapped by imperfect unity
one hundred thousand waves
"On a single sea." The understanding forged anew, began to course and in the
dark of
whirl, a dust-devil rose
on
flesh,
He wept
and swept him up
...
for a while,
and
.
.
The
up and the
air
about him
spirit
host— seen
banners of unfurling white-
in unbridled joy
He
not since he had crushed
him with them,
.
the voices hushed.
his closed eyes as endless
enclosed Tondius Will. tered him,
.
." .
and
relief as
they en-
could not abide the touch of flesh
Mina between two wodds. They took
let
him incorporeally
ride, like a surfer
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley on a For
Will the Chill
sea constituted of the ectoplasm of
one hundred thousand
souls.
time of merging, loneliness was beyond conception. For
this
this
time of—
But
it
ended.
Remrned
to his body, he felt like an infant
coughed from the
womb
into a snowdrift.
He No
screamed.
He
begged. "Please!"
longer (the voices said), for now.
any longer, you'd wither and pass on to not quite ready to lead us
yet,
particles,
and planes. You are a born
Next
One
"Wait!
Was
us. It
kept you from your body
would be too soon. You're
sailor
of upper spheres. But not
time. Soon.
thing!
You
said
you would search
for her.
much
alone. She
is
call.
We
have found her. She was
coming. Next time. Soon. (The voices faded.)
They were gone. Will, was alone in the dark. The sunharp moaned faintly. Distant whispers; its webwork.
He
Have you found
she too far away?"
Linear distances don't impede our very
we
though you have the innersight of energies,
quite yet.
her?
If
rumors
starlight
stirred
shivered in sudden awareness of the night's cold. Stretching, he
He
fought numbness from his limbs.
turned up the heat
his
in
thermalsuit, checked his air tanks' reading. Best get back to the landing
pod, and soon.
He
turned and began to descend the
of the ragged walls,
He
took an
he stopped and
electric light
from
hillside.
listened.
At the outermost finger
He nodded
his belt, flicked
it
alive,
and
beacon on a ledge of the crumbling wall. "Come out and shoot me!" he
echo of
me
you
as
his shout.
Then, a squeak of boot steps on thermalsuit stepped warily from a Will.
set the small
face
called.
Silence, except for the
from
to himself.
Most of the
gravel.
A broad,
murky doorway.
assassin's face
dark figure
in a
He was two
gray
meters
was concealed by goggles and
res-
The hand. The
pirator mask. "You are one of the guild," Tondius Will observed. assassin
nodded.
tube's muzzle
guild that
if
He held a small
was directed
silver
Uibe lighdy in his right
at Will's chest. Will said, "It
is
a tenet of your
your quarry discovers you and challenges you then you are
compelled to face him. Yes?"
The
assassin
"Well then, face as
you
nodded.
come
kill
my lamp. want to see some of your begrudge me that, surely."
into the light of
me. You can't
Really Weird Stories
I
31
32
John Shirley
Will THE Chill
The
assassin
took two
strides forward, stepping into the ring of light.
His lips were compressed, his eyes were gray as the ice a thousand meters beneath the ice cap. His thick legs were well apart and braced.
on those of
Will the Chill fastened his eyes
The
the assassin.
stranger
frowned.
Tondius Will spoke in a voice compelling;
was the raiment of
his voice
it
was compelling because
power, and his
his will
will
was backed by
He
said: "I am show something. Do not in order to you quickly arm my going to move fire the weapon, I am not going to reach for you. I'm going to reach into
the unspeakable mass of
this wall
.
.
.
Ancient but that there
its
members gready
.
solid. Will
had explored these ruins thoroughly.
was a metal urn on the other
just
where
it
He
was.
moved,
side of the wall, lying visualizing his left
if
small urn; he pitted perfect
form against the mass
There was a crack! and a small explosion chips of glass rained.
arm from
The
He knew on
a shelf;
hand passing
through a cloud, fingers closing about the
through the obstruction as
his
skilled in
was a high wall of transparent bricks backed by old metal.
his left
he knew
guild of assassins esteems
."
martial arts
To
The
.
the planets he had hurled.
all
resistance of the wall.
in the wall side; dust billowed,
assassin twitched but did not
He
the hole he'd made.
fire.
Will withdrew
held something in his bare hand.
A
stoppered urn of age-dulled gold. "Waveriders learn that masses are merely electron-bounded
fields
ing the urn in the
dim
of space-influence," he remarked light,
"and
all
fields
have a
which seems impenetrable may be penetrated."
weak
He
casually,
point,
examin-
where
that
paused, glanced up,
murmuring, "That's the principle behind the traversing of space between stars:
knowledge of secret passages through the
the principle behind his right
what you've
hand, poised
it
fabric of spacestuff.
just seen, assassin." Will
reached out with
over the urn, and, with a motion outspeeding the
thumb
eye,
he stabbed a
rigid
urn
split neatly in
two; half of it dropped to the ground.
at the
The The assassin took a
metal casing held in his other hand.
step backward; his eyes dancing with wonder, he held his
Tondius Will reached into the half of the urn tracted something that
had
lain there for ten
fire.
in his left
gus.
who
A shame
replaced
it
way around,
ex-
A tiny
mummy.
"It's
died at birth," Will muttered. "The urn was his sarcophato disturb
over the
hand, with the
hand and
thousand millennia.
skeleton to which a thin shroud of skin clung; a miniature
an infant
And it's
it.
.
.
."
He
mummy. Clamping
thumb of his
fusing
So
it
shut.
right
bent, retrieved the fallen half,
the two halves snug with his
he pressed the seams of the urn,
Moving slowly and
easily,
all
left
the
he replaced the urn
Really Weird Stories
Will the Chill
John Shirley in the hole
he had made
eyes of the assassin.
The
know
step forward so that
Then he
returned his gaze to the
"Now: can you match what
assassin slowly
"Then, you
in the wall.
shook
that
could
I
you," said Will
kill
he was within
before you pressed the
fire
"Therefore, your mission
just
lightly,
done?"
is
assassin
useless.
WiU
The
Will
saw the man's eyes narrow. Will knew,
.
.
.
you even
kill
smiled. "Yes?"
nodded.
Depart now,
The
head
taking a cautious
striking distance. "I could
assassin
his
have
stud of your charge gun."
Looking stooped and weary, the
shook
I
his head.
in peace."
tenets of the assassin's guild.
a split-second realization,
was depressing the stud of his charge gun. doubly. One hand struck aside the charge gun,
that the assassin
Will struck,
assassin's chest. Just as that
dipped into the
the other
hand had penetrated the
Will took something from the man's chest and held
it
up
for
him
wall.
to see.
Spurting blood from the gaping crater in his chest, the assassin took
two seconds
to collapse,
two more
to die.
In A.D. 1976 the physicist-philosopher Denis Postle said: "Mass-energy tells
space-time
how
to move."
how
to curve
and curved space-time
Imagine that you are involved
in a
tells
mass-energy
competition which requires
that,
you throw a discus with Olympic skill, while your with your legs are performing an elaborate ballet movement and with your left hand you are playing the world tennis champion (and winning), and in right hand,
between racquet strokes you must move a piece
to attack a
chessmaster effectively on a three-dimensional chessboard.
imagine doing
what
it is
to
chest,
on
that in near simultaneity, then
you can
you know something of
be a waverider.
Externally. In rigidly
all
champion If
hookup.
Will's eyes
were closed,
his
hands were clamped
armrests, his legs flexed and poised; except for his heaving
he seemed inert-about to
Internally.
He saw
fly
himself, in his
to activity like a
drawn bowstring.
mind's eye, floating naked
in space;
and him were luminous out of ken as he looked up and down the spectt-um. He approached a pulsing sphere-to innersight, the sphere seemed only ten meters across. matrices, the energy fields, flickering in
outside
It
traveled in preordained paths through the mattix. Paths he
dained.
He
had
set this
globe on the road
it
Five.
Really Weird Stories
or-
was taking by manipulating
pushcoils situated about the vast surface of
Roche
had
its
genuine counterpart,
33
34
John Shirley
Will THE Chill
He felt the presence of Opponent, though he could not yet see her. He sensed her position as a man with closed eyes knows the whereabouts of the sun by the feel of
moved Roche Three from satelliting
Three
its
on
glare
But she was there,
orbit.
tertiary-stage
elliptically, just
She had not yet
his eyelids.
within pushcoil-control range. She was
waiting for Will to serve. Will served.
He
reached out, mentally, for the imaged sphere.
He
placed his hand near the Eastcenter South Polar pushcoil, poised over
column
the pushcoil
how much push what
intervals.
hand posmre
that told Great Senses exactly coil,
and
for
how long, and
Through hookup, Great Senses drank Will's muscular
pressions, translated
knew Will's
in a
should be exerted by the
flesh,
them
at
ex-
into mathematical formulas. Great Senses
though Will denied that
flesh to humanity.
Except for autonomic functions, breathing and blood moving. Will's
movement
every
(as visualized
on
the
noumenon
plane,
hookup)
repre-
sented, to Great Senses, a signal to be transmitted to the pushcoil control units
on
Eive.
He
Externally.
was rippling
three dozen signals in
like
an
rippling purposefully, sending
eel,
one dozen seconds. Sometimes
were activated simultaneously, sometimes one
several pushcoils
at a time;
on each
occa-
sion the activation signal carried a precisely quantified regulation of the thrust applied.
Roche
moved out of
Five
orbit.
A man about 1.8 meters high and weighing 170 pounds moved a mass of about 6
billion trillion tons,
some 11,000
kilometers in diameter.
And he
did this (apparently) by rotating his hips and flexing shoulder muscles. Internally.
about ball,
it
Swimming through space
in intricate patterns like a
he swept
from the
it
easily (but
not effordessly) in a wide
solar system's orbital plane, right angles
This was stage
The
after the sphere,
waving
his
hands
wizard invoking visions from a crystal
three-fifty in Contest. Six
arc, ninety
from
months
its
degrees
former path.
since stage one.
greater the scope entailed in implementing an activity, the greater
the need for
strict
attention to small details.
Each split-second decision taking into account gravitational fields, electromagnetic
all
and heat-energy
that Will read of
factors,
gravdrag on
nearby asteroids, influence of solar wind— the consequences of interaction with these factors.
Will struggled with ecstasy. Each aspect of the celestial field had
own
music, in Will's mind, and
its
own
fireworks, exquisite
its
and hyp-
notic: a threat of distraction.
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley .
.
Will the Chill
Opponent drew Roche Three
.
breaking free of the gravitational
in ever-widening spirals, never quite
of the sun. She used the pull of the
field
sun, increasing her speed as she neared tegic repositioning, always
the Chill
moving with
it.
She expended weeks in each
strict
..
Concentration opaqued time; Will's fixation on Contest never
The weeks
tered.
nearer,
and
Hookup scious
upon
collapsed
fal-
themselves; Three and Five spun
nearer.
fed and cleansed him. In place of sleep
and hung
to dry in the
it
minutes. Sports-eyes recorded angles, a
stra-
reference to the ploys of Will
it
washed
his
uncon-
winds of dreaming. Weeks melted into
all.
Sports-eyes staring
from a thousand
thousand droneships with camera snouts preparing the compos-
time-lapse film reducing Contest to the relative simplicity of a bullfight.
ite
They entered the specified ninety thousand cubic kilometers of space agreed upon as Impact Zone. Like macrocosmic Sumo wresders, the planets closed, bulk upon bulk.
The masspieces were She was
closing
fast,
ten thousand kilometers apart.
impulsively, driving straight as a billiard ball,
utiliz-
ing the equatorial bulge as impending impact point. She was overconfident, perhaps, because Will past; his
mind was
had not been performing
He
troubled, divided.
had
as well as in the
to struggle to
keep from
thinking of the ruins, the sunharp, the voices, and Mina.
This was his
final Contest,
and
his heart
pleaded with him to play
it
to
denouement. But as the two planets engaged for impact-each making minute splitsecond adjustments in trajectory, rate of spin, and lean of axis-Will rose
up from hookup, your
own
Alarmed by Will's
was capable of alarm. withdrawal from hookup, the computer spoke to him
know. Less than two hours. So
expects. But there will be
no impact.
back out of the approach pattern
will
Crack
it
through ship's intercom. "What's wrong? Impact
I'll
re cheated.
eggshells.
Great Senses was not capable of surprise. But
"I
you
thinking: Sports-eyes, this time
it is
We
as
if
is
in-"
scheduled, and so are stalemating;
Opponent
no one
wins.
I'm preparing another. But Five
never collide with Three."
"Because of the voices
in the ruins?"
Will was capable of surprise. "You aren't supposed to read
my mind."
"I read only what hookup leaks to me. I know you want to preserve the planet for the voices. The dead one hundred thousand. Why?
Really Weird Stories
35
36
John Shirley
Will THE Chill They're already dead.
ment
you want
to preserve Five intact as a
monu-
them?"
to
"In a v^ay,
of
Do
it
wdll
be a monument. But— do you know^ what they require
me.-^"
"They want you
knovm
want to
"I
to depart
the
to guide
them upspectrum. Beyond the
shortest
wavelengths, the highest frequencies. Into the fuller spheres." go.
I
want
from an
to see upspectrum.
intact planet;
it's
And I want A/[ina
.
.
We have
.
a door into the Farther Place. If
like
game were consummated, most of Five would be destroyed
my love
only reason—beyond
be near
Five.
I
had
of Contest— that
I've
to Contest to stay near, since this
"Within an hour the quakes on Five
.
.
.
The
played this far was to
will begin. If
is
sponsor's Ship."
you want
to preserve
the ruins—" "I've
programmed
the backup navigator.
You won't have
will
prevent her from coming about to
impact zone, on that right at this point,
I
strike.
As soon
message to
instant, transmit a
do a thing.
to
In forty-five minutes the pushcoil will veer Five. Opponent's
momentum
as we're out of
her, tell her, as
is
my
declare stalemate, by right of points accrued. That
will infuriate her."
"And "Yes
you'll .
.
.
"And on
go to the surface of
and
you'll
Five."
go to serve another waverider."
Five you'll die
and go with the unseen multitude."
"Yes."
"How? "No.
Will you crash the lander?"
I've
got to be in sunharp rapport with
"Then—you'll remove your "I tive.
me
respirator?
An
them when
I
die."
ugly death."
don't think that wiU be necessary. She's proved herself to be vindic-
When
she discovers the stalemate
she'll
come
after
me.
She'll find
in rapport." «
That was where she found him.
The sudden change in orbital trajectory had riven the surface of Five. The sky was mordant with volcanic smog. Some of the ruins crumbled. The sunharp survived. Roche
Five
was moving
into a wide, cold,
permanent
pushcoil column, in the waning light like a colossal mailed
arm, flared for the
He
orbit.
The
and
fore-
fist
last time.
stood before the sunharp, tranced by
its
distant
hum. The voices
whispered, sang louder, a cry touched by exultation. "Hello," he said.
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Will the Chill
Again you have not come alone small, "I
armed
ship. Just
know. She
Tondius
.
will
out of
(said the voices).
sight, in the clouds.
A she
comes
in a
She approaches.
be the instrument of our union."
.
.
"Mina!" shouted Will the Chill warmly.
I'm here.
The
planet was rotating into darkness. Light diminished, night en-
gulfed Five. But Tondius Will had
no
lack of light: "Mina!" he breathed.
She touched him before the others, a
chill breath, a kiss of ether. Then came and he was borne up, the surfer deliquesced; a sea of one hundred thousand and two waves. His body, still standing, remained alive and for a few moments it tethered him to that plane.
the others
Something metallic broke from the clouds.
low
in the black sky, growing.
spat a
It
beam
and through
his
with a joyous
through
One
of harsh red
It
was a
light;
A
chip of light glittered
contestship, diving like a vulture.
the laser passed through Will's chest
heart—but before his body crumpled
cry,
his ears
resounded
the song of the sunharp: struck by the laser passed
his flesh.
wavelength, infinitely
divisible.
Freed of his body Will had no need of hookup.
He showed them
the
way. In a moment, the one hundred thousand and two had gone.
.
.
.
Far over the surface of Five, Great Senses surveyed the planet.
honeycombed
of
crystal
was a mixture of three
blue for considering, green for triumph
.
.
Its
face
colors: red for regret,
.
Great Senses veered from Five and departed the system.
Opponent's ship departed
Now, Roche
as well.
Five, icing over,
a frigid forever
monument
to a tran-
scended race, was utterly empty. Except for the lonely ghost of a forgotten assassin.
Really Weird Stories
37
Tapes
22 and 23
12, 14, 15,
///Therapeutic sessions and lecture address tapes transcribed July 1999 by ML, RK, for
on Dexter Weston Dexter;
files
3,
Dr. Jeremy
Berenson, primary mental hygiene physician.
CC: Detective
Pearlman, Los Angeles Police Department
Lt. S.
cide Division. Note: emphasis added, as patient raises voice. ramifications in this case transcription tive
Due
Homito legal
unusually detailed as to adjunc-
is
events.///
Tape
12:
[Garbled beginning, psychiatrist adjusts tape recorder.]
Dexter:
.
.
.
Sometimes they catch
somebody somewhere enjoying of us don't get to see said
.
.
it
.
.
.
Kill
it
on video
the killing City
.
.
.
.
on
.
.
maybe always on video,
video, even
Kill City,
when
the rest
doctor, like the
man
.
Doctor: I'm unfamiliar with the reference.
Dexter: Well, Kill
City and
it's
is
a song
more
Kill
lyric, see,
but
it's,
like prescient,
Doctor: Actually, the Homicide Rate has been going
much
all
Dexter:
American
Is
that
cities.
somea
Actually you have
Not
that shit
to real-world input? Like all
because
LA
is
City every day.
Tm
vastly,
dovm
in pretty
but noticeably.
me
how I
react
from Mars, doctor' and the doctor
says.
where you,
like, test
the attributes of a
to see
human being and
I
have a
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Tapes
fucking birth certificate for you from Quincy, get the fuck over
it.'
And
it's
fucking
know
Mars no matter what they
Doctor: Well, yes,
it
that he
is
22 and 23
Illinois right here, pal,
just to test his reaction,
to agree or not because they
12, 14, 15,
so
whether he pretends
going to believe he's from
say.
might go something
like that,
sans the colorful
expletives.
You know better than to try to talk some of them do. You're a hypertrophi-
Dexter: You're smart, doctor. Ahnost.
my
language, 'streety'
cally
stuff, like
educated motherfucker and you talk
one because you know I'm
like
sensitive to phoniness.
Doctor: Yes. Very impressive. pressive,
we
can
get back to
Now
what we were
sure as hell. gets old, the
Dexter:
It
Parents.
Mums
That's the
first
of shit for
it.
that I've
talking about, this last
way you guys
I
like to talk
and Dad and how they traumatized trauma
right there,
didn't think
little
week-
about the
Dexter Dexter.
naming a kid Dexter Dexter. Got a
But don't get hung up on that
Doctor: No,
acknowledged you're im-
lot
either, doctor.
dismay over your name would lead to staking
out cops and shooting them. But-
Dexter: But the Parents did
posed that
Freud
first
dream
thing?
it
stuff,
some way,
yes?
How long has
it
been since
along with the sexual complexes and the
A hundred years? And you guys never solve anyone's prob-
lem based on the fucking clue! Give
it
'it's
the parents' assumption. But you don't get a
up, that
one
ain't
working dumbshits!
Doctor: Remember, you have to stay in control or Mike'll be here with the restraints. Big pain in the rear for everyone.
Dexter:
I'm cool, I'm
chillin',
I'm positively nitrogen infused.
We
wouldn't want Big Mike to interrupt our session.
Doctor: But
it's
interesting
how the very subject of parents
causes you to
start shouting.
Dexter: You're a cunning fucker. I'm not talking to you anymore today.
Really Weird Stories
39
40 Tapes
12, 14, 15, 2.2
AND
John Shirley
23
Anyway your tape recorder
about to shut
is
off.
Doctor: Tape recorder looks fine to me.
Dexter:
I
///Break
About
said about to.
in continuity;
to.
Watch.
Now
.
.
not
.
yet.
Now.
resuming tape 12 (RK)///
Dexter: Get the tape recorder going again, doctor?
Doctor: Yes .
.
.
.
.
.
you
.
.
.
Dexter:
How'd you manage
Well!
You must have
a sense for
its
that!
I
batteries ... oh,
didn't see
no
you put something on the tape that made
Did
Doctor:
I
I?
When
did
do
I
it's
it
you touch
plugged
get stuck, did you?
doctor?
that,
Coming in? A spitwad? It could just be know something about tape recorders
don't know.
dence. But you probably
know. This
is
one way
it
Oh—
in.
coinciI
don't
that paranoids with a megalomaniacal fixation
tend to— sometimes—gather followers. Like Jim Jones, or Rajneesh. They are very acute observers, their
minds
appearance of having supernatural
Dexter: That bullshit
Doctor:
Is it
make you
now? Dexter
.
.
are unnaturally quick, they give the
abilities
feel better,
because—
doctor? That's
for today.
.
Dexter: I'm outta here. Yo, nurseboy! Mike! Take
Tape
all
me back to my fucking cell!
14:
Doctor:
How are you feeling,
Dex?
Dexter:
How
Doctor Jeremy Berenson? You seem
are
you
feeling,
seri-
ously nervous today.
Doctor: No, I'm not, but that remark could be considered a preface to hostility
and remember—
Dexter:
Oh
I
know, you can press that button
right there
and you've got
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Tapes
mace and Big Mike'll be
in here getting
me
in his
22 and 23
12, 14, 15,
sweaty choke hold. I'm
cool, I'm nitrogen cooled.
Doctor: Are you ready to stop playing games and talk about your parents?
Dexter:
You know
from the prison
the facts about
my parents,
people from a notch above
trailer
park
trash.
my files
dude, you've got
psychiatrist, court testimony,
and
White
all
that shit.
trash,
White
but didn't have
The very model of dysfunctionality. Daddikins: Classic raging alcoholic, would try to get close to the kids and then blow it all with another boozy rage. Twice in jail for B&E. Mommikins: Kind of a slut, but not an to be.
outright whore; drank too
claims she molested
much, but
him once, but
I
tried to hide
think he
it.
made
My older brother
that shit up. He's a
whiny, delusional fucker.
Doctor: Your mother-
Dexter: Never molested me, no. That'd be too easy a diagnosis, right?
My Mom was dad was
too,
most of the
really pretty intelligent,
my own
and
kind of unusually sharp, and her
IQ was way up there for a kid
time, but that didn't keep us
who
from being white trash-
Do
Doctor: That's a social judgment, that white trash business. ally
buy
I
dysfunctional,
mean in
Is
that
other people's eyes. No,
you bet your
People that cover up
Doctor:
you
re-
into that?
Dexter: No, man, call
cut class
ass.
we were what you'd
But what's functional? Tell you:
better.
what everyone does, do you
think, cover
up
their
dysfunctionality? Society as a whole?
Dexter:
You
you could
trying to get
give a shit.
You
me
thinking you're actually sympathetic? Like
charge the state for an hour
when
I
talk to
you
another hour on your pay-
an hour. All you fuckers do. I'm just check to you. You don't actually care about me.
for half
Doctor: I—
Dexter: You're going to say:
Really Weird Stories
"It's
a balance.
I
can't
do my job
right
if I
41
42 Tapes
12, 14, 15,
John Shirley
22 and 23
don't care about
my patients,
but
get really involved
if I
be unable to
I'll
continue because of the emotional stress."
Doctor: Yes.
You look a
Dexter:
Doctor: No. other,
it's
Not
wacked, doctor. Because those are the exact
little
to use. Exactly. Weren't they?
words you were going
far off,
though,
you
give
I'll
that.
not hard for you to predict generally
You and
I
know
each
what I—
Dexter: Especially as I'm one of those fast thinking paranoids? Right,
make
doctor, sure,
mean, it all
I
really can.
your mind.
yourself feel better. But see, / can read
Not
the time, though
.
delusionally imagining .
I
can ... So
far
I
I
do
can't
.
Doctor: Let's get back to your—
Dexter: What, you don't want to
Try
me
do
a
little 'reality
check' for the patient?
out on the mind-reading?
Doctor: Instead of—
Dexter:
—me
therapy'.
You look wacked
flicker— that
I
playing your games,
might actually be able to read your mind and something
about the money you raked off the nurse
who was
A Miss
why don't you play along with And now you're worried—just a
again, doctor.
clinic
medication funds to pay off a
going to sue you for sexual harassment
.
.
.
Blackmail
.
.
Hernandez—
///Tape 14 abruptly ends here///
Tape
15:
Dexter: So where's Dr. Berenson?
Doctor: He's ... on a leave of absence.
Dexter:
I
heard he was going to erase some therapeutic tapes, in
tion of hospital policy,
and
his supervisor
caught him at
it,
and
it
viola-
led
to—
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Tapes
Doctor: Let's talk about you, Dexter,
how
are
you
22 and 23
12, 14, 15,
feeling?
Dexter: [extended laughter]
you
Doctor:
If
Dexter:
It's
let
can't control yourself—
okay, but
you keep up
much
.
.
.
you guys crack
me
up.
How long am
this pretense, this patronizing bullshit.
I
going to
don't think
I
longer. I'm almost ready.
Doctor:
Go
on.
my plans
Dexter: I'm not stupid, man. I'm not going to babble
Doctor: Let's
over again.
start
How's
the world been treating
Dexter: See there, you're using that angle to get
you can
attribute to a paranoiac's conspiracy
me
to you.
you.-^
talking about smff
complex. Well,
I'U
play
along and give you something to write in your diagnostic evaluation; tell
you about the World, but
knows the world your step, you
ones
But
who
life is
is
it's
die.
There're six billion people in years don't
live
all
it
very long,
sometimes:
precious, too, at least
that there are compensations,
You
much
as
a hostile place. That's not paranoid.
live seventy-five
ments, right?
about you as
that's
You
don't watch
now and
I
even the
really. Life is
what you're
those loving children and
think I'm gonna say
cheap.
thinking,
warm mo-
never had any of those? But
did, with my granddad, and with my ovm my own kid, and with a dog I had, and a couple
nephew, he was almost
notice
I'll
me. Everyone
of girlfriends
I
I
like
had-you
put the dog first—and with a couple of good friends, stoned on
I
when we woulda died for each other. I know those things are I know something else. I've been worked on since I was a kid, the way you work on a lab rat. You're looking interested, like you think I mean I was abducted by aliens or CIA mind-control scientists or some the road,
there.
But
bullshit,
and maybe
you have
me
that's
pegged
my-delusion-that's what's buggin' you guys,
as a paranoid, but you're askin' yourselves what's
this guy's specific delusion?
fear
is
sciously operating
on purpose
for
and get a year
got
I
a survival tool, pal.
I
some paranoia, paranoia's a skill. And mean to say anybody's been con-
don't
on me or something or planting implants or arranging
my
old
in juvie
Really Weird Stories
man
to
because
be an asshole and for I
took a ride in a car
me I
to get busted
didn't
know my
43
44 Tapes
12, 14, 15,
girlfriend's
John Shirley
22 AND 23
brother had stolen-I
mean
we're
all
part of a big pecking
food chain, a big machine of stronger preying on weaker, and you're part of the social services foodchain, and so am I, and—oh, you order, a
think I'm babbling. Hebephrenic manifestations or something. Yeah,
what you were thinking and now you're thinking that I'm doing 'paranoid anticipation' according to the classic profile and now you're that's
thinking this whole session
and you wish fore all
it
you can go
making you
is
to lunch
and get
if
matchbook
in
won't shut up after
me
be-
been thinking about
to
be drinking anymore and did
your coat from that bar on Winston Av-
enue— [laughter] You should see your Doctor: You've been talking to
watching
I
your old lady knows you're back on
when you're not supposed
she find that
because
that cocktail you've
morning and you're wondering
the cocktails
tired
were lunchtime but you've got another guy
face!
someone—the
nurses, someone's
been
me—
somebody following you.'^ Huh? Are you being conspired against? You should see somebody for those symptoms. Dexter: [laughter] Right, Doc,
is
DocDoctor: Look,
I
don't
know how you—
Dexter: Hey, I'm going to terminate this interview right now. Your audi-
ence
is
over.
///Tape 22/// Dexter: 'You can run, but you can't hide.' That oughta be stamped the coin instead of E Pluribus
Doctor: Everyone
feels
on
Unum.
hunted sometimes. By needy family members,
the tax man, supervisors-
Dexter: By death.
Doctor: Yes.
Dexter:
Do
you
When was I
feel
in
hunted by
county
Koran. Well, he was Black
stir,
it?
there
was a spade
there, big into the
Muslim— Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
know that you've
you
12, 14, 15,
22 and 23
Now you're talking to me as if I haven't been keeping up on you.
Doctor: I
Tapes
just 'heard
it
read widely in
from a
Dexter: You're going to
You
don't have to talk as of
You're one of our best-read patients.
guy.'
me
tell
spirituality.
to leave off the front?
What about
the
Anyway—in
the
doctor front?
Doctor: I'm not the one here for therapy.
Dexter:
You
Depends on your
sure?
Qu'ran, pronouncing neck. That's funny
Doctor:
If
you
.
Dex
.
.
right,
says that eternity
it
to put
isn't it?
it,
Gives
You
my
lap! Is
it
Doctor: Stop
Dexter: ing,
.
a choking sensation.
don't—
.
my smell? The .
a near as the veins of your
trying to say something?
Dexter: Don't what? I'm sitting across the in
is
me
.
.
Dexter: What's that?
Doctor:
it
way
definition of therapy.
.
You rung
stench of
room from you with my hands
my
diagnosis choking you, too?
[unintelligible]
for Mike,
huh? How's that micro-willy of yours hang-
Mike?
Psychological Technician:
You
okay. Doctor?
He
touch you?
Dexter: Never got near him.
Doctor: tion ...
He He
Psych Tech:
Dexter:
... I'm
all
right
now
...
mentioned choking and
guess
I I
it
began to
was .
.
.
.
.
was autosugges-
.
Ow—shit!
What are you
clutching
you
testicles for there,
someone hit you in the nuts. Can remember suggesting it. I'll be damned. that
Really Weird Stories
Mike? You
happen by autosuggestion?
act like I
don't
45
46 Tapes
12, 14, 15, 2.2
AND
John Shirley
23
Psych Tech: That's it-Slim!
Womack! Get me
a sleep shot! Get Morris in
Ow, dammdt!
here!
Dexter: You're not injecting
again—
doing
but you can't do
it,
once—hold the fucker— stop the—There he goes
of us at .
ass
how you're
Psych Tech: I'm not sure
goes
my
.
.
.
it
to
all
There he
.
.
Doctor: Are you sure he's out?
Oh yeah.
Psych Tech:
That
stuff
boom.
is like,
///The following record of the interrupted
lecture
vided for homicide detectives, transcribed by
Tape
by Dr. Lewis
is
pro-
ML///
23:
Doctor Ransom Lewis:
I
want
to thank
all
the doctors and staff
gave up their Saturday afternoon for this seminar. I'm sure we'll
all
who find
make our work easier in the coming months. I'll be giving the first talk myself. The topic is comparative medications for the treatment of it'll
bipolar disorder, with a particular—who
you see
man?
that
let
man
in here?
him— [garbled]
Mike,
will
A^e?
Are you okay? Dr. Ferratosco—ring the general alarm— Dexter-
stop
Restrain
you— [garbled]
it,
Dexter: All
riiiight!
How
right.
to that
My own
nice to have
microphone.
you
all
I
hope you're
tapin' this. All
Everyone but the patients are
here.
in-
vited to this seminar about the patients, right?
But here
I
am.
I've let
passed the key around. side,
as
so you
Mike
blood
No,
he's
vessels in his brain.
show you— I can go Look
at
No
they locked these here doors from the out-
I'm afraid the other two orderlies are as dead
not
just
Once
unconscious, doctor,
ol'
I
broke some
you're inside the brain—it's so fragile!
inside your brains,
Ferratosco, and chubby
heads.
And
ain't leaving.
there.
the other patients out from the security ward,
Dr. Lewis
.
.
I
can extend
my
I'll
field— Dr.
.
'em thrash around, grabbing golf this Sunday, boys.
I
think
their highly intellectual fore-
I'll
fuckin' vegetable. Yeah. Yeah. Start droolin'
let
Dr. Lewis survive—like a
any second now.
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley You Give
.
.
.
rush me?
gettin' set to
all
have you.
kind of pathetic,
It's
You guys
on your
all fall
22 and 23
12, 14, 15,
really haven't figured
it
out
You feel
that? Fifty or so of you in here
asses as a fuckin w^ave of brain-hurt goes over
Well I'm not going to
my
kill
on your
don't worry. Just get
No? Try this... How'd that feel? Now. Down on your
yet,
really.
a try— and dow^n you go!
it
and you
Tapes
audience before
knees. Yeah.
On
it's
heard
me
you
out so
girls
and
on the
out-
your knees,
bitches.
See,
it
had
and the brain
side
together, see, like
posites of the I
knees. All
to happen.
The
a maze
is
fifty
brain
is
on the
of you. That's
a maze. Life inside
it
.
.
.
a maze
is
and those two mazes lock
one of those M.C. Escher paintings w^here
same place
boring you? Howe's that for boredom, there, doctor. That
Are wt
Okay and
Yeah—oh now^ everybody
Listening novv^?
so
yes,
I I
was
there's op-
interlocking in a kind of tesseract that
saying, the brain, see,
was one— they get
it's
a maze.
And
.
Am
.
good?
feel
suddenly so
is
.
attentive.
your paranoids—
maze, they can't distinguish the
lost in that
maze from the outer maze, and they wander around from one personal symbol to the next, am I right? See, you'd be amazed at some of the strange books people sent us in prison— and in prison, you got time
inner
to read, unless you're into lifting weights shit gets old.
and trading
Anyway, harken back to the night
I
for blowjobs.
That
went home and saw
my
on dope and she had were afraid I was the cops then shoot her and
old lady dead, and the cops said she'd freaked out a knife and they had to
going to sue them so they started following me, laying for a chance to
me out-and
take
wasn't paranoia
was
that
when
I
for real, see, that wasn't the paranoia.
started to snipe those fuckers
em
and take
It
out.
do some heavy speed to stay up all night so they couldn't I slept and it was, like, a self-fulfilling prophecy. "He's a get me when paranoid—get him!" And I became one! It was the speed, see. I took a Anyway, uh-you see most of the time few of them fuckers out before But
I
started to
.
no one maze. I
finds their
Maze
saw myself
tred
me
and
I
in
way
your head. But
for
what
could see
I
I
.
.
through the I
in
realize
it's
a
did. Self knowledge, see. That's the key.
really was,
was
maze because they don't
I
knew I was hopelessly sick with I knew there was no hope
a mind maze.
because of what the demiurge and the archons and fuckers made out of this world and made out of me. So
people have
.
like .
hafor
you
.
So... I
turned inward. Catatonic, they
the maze. There's
said,
but
more than one way
Really Weird Stories
I
to
wasn't.
I
was going through
go through that
labyrinth.
47
48 Tapes
12, 14, 15, 2.2
There's what you way.
And me,
it's
AND
John Shirley
23
the white-magic
call
too bad and
I
way and
know it's
there's the black-magic
too bad, but: I'm too sick to go
the white-magjc way. Too.. .not paranoid, not delusional, but just plain
damaged. So brain
I
went the black-magic way. And I got to the core of the is, the power underneath despair, and I set it
where the power
and the changes started
free,
to
now
come, and
I
found out that
absolutely present here
and
sense every wave of
the waves you emanate, there
And here I am, And now Dr. and
I
want you
others here That's
it.
boys, here
I
world
in the
in every sense,
my
to be
cute
what obedience Rip that .
is
shit right .
as well as outside! In
.
and you
power
is
in that.
am, and here you are too.
Ferratosco— I want you to take Dr.
Now you others tell
all
you are
if
Little
puppet, and
I
Means by
want you
and what disobedience out of his
you can kneel
both mazes!
to
.
.
me
.
is
.
.
the throat,
to
show
the
.
yeah.
for real.
Kneel for
real!
Inside
And you can obey me, and go where
I
you, and profit by submission to your Lord, your Prophet of the Final
Night— or you can die
right
now. What's your choice?
Note to Lt. Pearlman. Regret I am unable to obtain statements from the other doctors and staff at the seminar. All surviving doctors and staff have resigned and we are unable to locate
///End
transcription.
them. Their whereabouts, and the whereabouts of Dexter W. Dexter, entirely
unknown
.
.
.
is
///
Really Weird Stories
Don't Be Afraid
"I really
ward
don't have time for
Nilly,
aka Will E.
this," Nilly said.
Nilly, a
"You don't have time
for your
men's dressing room of the
in the
The Lodge
itself
for parties, for
his pirate radio days.
own child?" Bonham asked. They were Moose Lodge 17 Public Meetings Hall.
almost never used the place. Nowadays
punk rock
window
it
was rented out
concerts, to obscure religious sects,
scure political factions like Nilly's
painted-over
His name was William Ed-
nickname from
rattled,
ovm
now and
Absolute Freedom
and
to ob-
The Novem-
Party.
then, with flurries of chill
ber rain blowing in off San Francisco Bay. They were almost under the 80 Freeway, in Berkeley, and between rain tappings trucks
moan
past.
As he waited
room
Bonham could hear semi-
for an answer,
mirror. Nilly touched
Bonham watched Nilly preen in the dressing
up
his chin
with a portable electric shaver. For
anarchist, Nilly was very conscientious about his appearance. Bonham, at sixty-one, was twenty years Nilly's senior and felt it tonight. He was tired. He wanted to go home and wash off the insulation
an
dust.
He'd been
worked
laid off, a year before,
insulation factory if
now.
he didn't rinse the
"Goddammit,
It
stuff off regularly.
Nilly,
Nilly turned, giving
Nilly
from the savings and loan he'd
Minimal retirement pay: he worked in an made him cough, and the coughing was worse
at for twenty-six years.
answer the question."
him a look of mingled
wore a workshirt, blue
jeans, a
and condescension.
white linen sport jacket.
compact man with
flashing,
tied into a ponytail.
His movements, every
ies in intensity,
pity
He
was a
compelling black eyes, receding black hair syllable
he uttered, were stud-
pregnant with expression.
"Frankly-there are bigger issues at stake, here. beautifully teetering,
and
Really Weird Stories
it
needs a push and a
Our society is fall,
and
it
teetering,
needs some-
50
John Shirley
Don't Be Afraid one
to pick
up the pieces and
"You want
redistribute them."
You got my daughter pregnant—what an unwed mother?"
to talk social issues?
about your social responsibility to
"My
being the father— that's disputable."
"Bullshit
it is.
You
led her on,
you knocked her up, you dropped
She's got a three-month-old child.
She needs
importandy she needs help with the
knew what my philosophy
"Selena
kid. is
.
.
at least child
support—more
Your daughter." .
and
it
includes absolute sexual
He stood up, took one last look in the mirror, adjusted his coat. A
freedom."
baldheaded graduate student in a black buttoned-to-the-neck appeared
at the door, looking at Nilly inquiringly. "I'm
"What the
hell's
your philosophy got to do with
"Everything. Social anarchism family unit
is
to. It's
You want
coming, Mark."
this?"
individual responsibility.
The old
are
women's communes
I
can recommend
about freedom."
"Your freedom to screw "I really
means
collarless shirt,
part of the patriarchal hegemony. She needs to get with an
commune—there
anarchist
her
her.
who you
like
without—"
don't have time for this Calvinistic guilt-tripping, Mr. to take
"You know we Nilly smiled
me
to court,
Bonham.
go ahead."
can't afford that."
and went out
to the stage.
March stopped on a street corner, and looked around, and tried to remember how hed come here—y-ii Store, ^^ Cent Store, Shell station, a boarded up motel, cars pulling up to a stop away,
its
hands on
stereo 'er I
banging
rap.
let
a minivan a few steps
"Motherfuckuh that
my
goodie, put you
bust you cherry," March chanted along with the rap.
was a white guy, long hair matted wouldn't
light;
them cut
it
March
into a single dirty yellow thatch—he
at the hospital. They'd learned not to try to force
him. The black guy at the wheel of the minivan glared at him
when the light changed. March again wondered: How'd I come
and acceler-
ated
He
here?
have,
remember breaking out of the Security Ward, but he must they'd never have let him out. Not after the last time. Oh wait. Oh.
wait.
Metal mesh,
again
and again
didn't
.
rusty metal
it'd
break,
and it'd cut,
"... Social justice
is
ture of society as
we know
phone
expertly,
mesh on
the
window,
if you
yanked on
it
too, cut into the orderly's^
completely and utterly impossible within the struc-
from many
society," Nilly rallies.
boomed. He used
He made
a micro-
eye contact with the audi-
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Don't Be Afraid
ence. Felt a glow, noticing they
He
ing at the back.
had more than a
about Selena Bonham's age in the front row. they're eighteen, that's the
Mark was beaming right,
full
house. People stand-
took note of two-three, really— admiring young
at
main
Make
Possibilities.
girls
sure
thing.
him from the back. Pleased
as hell.
He'd been
they were catching on. Frustration with the
telling Nilly that
economy from the poor end of things—he just might spark a revolution after all. The fact that the economy was booming for the middle class only made it more volatile.
Bonham watched from ness, really tasting chist followers
denouncing
the back of the room,
in his
it
Nilly.
They'd never
let
him
say
lying
about
mation agent or something. Might
as well
March was drifting down
tasting bitter-
mouth. Mark and some of Nilly's other
were watching Bonham sidelong,
assume he was a reactionary
to sleep
amazed and
University,
in case
he should
anarstart
much and everyone would
Nilly, a
government
go home
.
disinfor-
.
.
toward the bay. There were places
along the bay. But he couldn't sleep until he
let
was so heavy in his gut. It was like a hard, superdense and it pressed, and unless he let some of it out—
some of it out.
It
living stone in his
gut,
"Don't be afraid of freedom!" Nilly thundered, and there was a ing roar of response.
It
was the Absolute Freedom V^xv/s
be afraid of taking responsibility for
down— and from
The
all
threats
.
a simationist proto-society
no one was ever
Same They were just so didnt stop them. Everyone yammering, the .
.
.
ture of cement
.
.
.
.
really quiet.
as in prison, only worse, because
TV on,
arguments,
the institutional walls, the echoes carrying the tex-
and steel
was noisy here
now a man A man was
this society
former categorizations."
shouts echoing from
It
moment by moment,
noise, the noise in the hospital—oh,
Just so
can pull
the ashes anarchism will rise like a phoenix to sponta-
neously re-construct, that defies
We
yourself!
gratify-
slogan. "Don't
too.
bars back with them
.
.
.
There was no peace anywhere. The
cars.
And
.
walking toward him, singing loudly along to something on earphones. March grabbed a Coke bottle from an overflowing trash can, smashed it jagged, and expertly slashed the man's throat out, all in
one motion. Really Weird Stories
51
52
John Shirley
Don't Be Afraid
He walked on, That's
the broken bottle in his
when he saw the cop sitting
hand dripping
blood.
with his back to him at the counter
of the coffee shop. cop, a middle
The
aged black man, was just so
look in his eyes just like a frightened
little
How
kid.
was a
startled; there
easily big, tough,
was one of the things look. The cop seeing his gun in seeing that him, in that lifted the boulder March's hand—March had stepped up behind him at the counter and pulled it from his holster, just so smooth and easy—and the cop put up trained adults could turn into scared kids. That
his
hands as
if to
block the bullet
and
the first bullet carried
knuckles from that hopelessly-blocking
"Where does
it
start? It starts
roar— there'd been a Navy,
all
last bit
of
it!
Getting rid of the banks! Dismantling
Police, the
we
A
call
bigger
"Getting rid of the Army, the
lately.
of social trash from a society that
of living without the Nazis
one of the
mouth—
right into his
with getting rid of the police!"
of busts
lot
hand
is
all
of
it.
every
All,
not w^orking. Don't be afraid
the Berkeley police, the San Francisco
Los Angeles Police— and when you have a problem, even now,
before the revolution—Jo w't call them! Relying to authority! Submitting to authority
rendering responsibility
is
is
on
authority
is
submitting
surrendering responsibility! Sur-
surrendering freedom!"
Outburst of applause.
Bonham
thought: Let
no appeal
There's
Go home,
conscience.
daughter
it'll
Bonham
be
go. There's
off, kiss
him
flat
on
looking up at the
the collar—and the
his back.
man with
tell
no
your
He lay there gasping,
gun
in his
trying to get
the matted hair and the drooping, that
were so empty and so
name
MARCH
stenciled
full at
under
hand.
"Hey!" March shouted, as people mrned to
Hey
your wife,
hand on the knob, and the door slammed
once, and the institutional shirt with the
heavy!
he's going to change.
all right.
moving mouth; with the eyes
silently
no way
to a state of mind. Rhetoric has
shower the poison
turned, put his
inward, knocking his breath,
it
no appeal
here,
you're looking at me!"
stare. "It
And he began
still
hurts!
It's still
to fire the .45
Glock
automatic into the crowd, the screams and the running began, and he
stepped over Bonham, perhaps thinking him already dead,
gunshot noise
like
firing,
the
a big metal institutional-door slamming shut close by,
slam-bam.
Bonham shaken.
pulled himself
The room had
all
up on the door, discovering he was unhurt, only but emptied, everyone had run out the
fire exit
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley doors on the
Don't Be Afraid except for three people, two of
side,
of them unconscious, shaking—and a fourth, Nilly
had been shot
back of
in the
and pulling himself along with
his
Nilly,
his right
arms and
them on
clearly dead,
one
the stage.
knee and he was weeping
his
good knee,
trying to get
up, leaving a snailtrail of blood.
Bonham knelt by the shaking, bleeding girl, used his coat to compress wound as best he could. The gunman was talking to himself, clearly completely psychotic, and
the
he
more
fired twice
both times missing him but each shot mak-
at Nilly,
ing the anarchist convulse with terror as
it
smashed holes through the
stage near an arm, a foot. Police sirens
.
.
.
Bonham looked
on the floor. She had stopped shaking. She was unmistakably dead. He went to the door. A clutch of anarchists huddled outside, arguing. The cops were coming down the street—but they didn't seem to be coming here. They were headat the girl
two blocks down. They
ing for a coffee shop
"You haven't "I
called them?"
them
told
ing his
didn't
know about
right—"
was sobbing. "They won't!"
Mark
said.
But he wasn't sure about
it.
chew-
The guy with You jeer at the
smiled. "Stand by your beliefs. Don't call them.
the gun'll run out of steam. Are you anarchists, or not? until
He was
looking at the lodge door.
lip,
Bonham cops
this yet!
said.
to call the cops!" said a teenage girl with dyed-black,
waist-length hair. She "It isn't
Bonham
you need them? Don't be hypocrites." one of them shouted.
"Let's take a vote!"
A quorum! "Look-we'll appoint an ad hoc committee. Then we, uh-"
Bonham left them arguing and went back into the building. The madman was straddling Nilly, who was lying on his back, flailing. "Get him away!" The madman raised the gun, pointed it at NiWy-^lick. It was empty.
He "I
looked
still
feel
at the gun. Nilly it,"
March
looked
at the
madman with
panting
relief.
said.
"Get the cops!" Nilly shouted, seeing
Bonham watching.
"Don't be a hypocrite, Nilly."
"What?" "Shut up,"
March
said to Nilly. "You're too loud."
Nilly tried to crawl away.
"The COPS!"
March knelt, pinning Nilly with his knees and hit him, tally,
v^th the butt of the gun, the barrel held in his
Really Weird Stories
fist.
rather experimenNilly screamed.
53
54
John Shirley
Don't Be Afraid "You're
March lice!
too loud. You're
still
hit
him
hit
"Please!
him
God
"You don't
in the
it
.
.
Nilly
screamed louder. "Cops! Po-
hurry!"
shit, shit,
head
."
so
and
again, harder,
Cops, goddammit,
March
just
this time.
Bonham! Call the cops!" want the cops—you can't dismiss
hurts,
really
when you need
and then
call it
isfaction,
he added,
"It's
it,
Nilly,"
about personal
Bonham
said.
responsibility.
police protection
With
infinite sat-
It's all
about
.
.
.
your freedom."
Then Bonham
turned,
the wet thudding sounds,
and walked
out, so
he wouldn't have to hear
and the screams.
Outside, the anarchists were
still
Bonham went home and took
arguing.
a shower.
Really Weird Stories
Lot Five, Building Seven,
Door Twenty-three
"He's
my
last
hope," said Oliver Dunsmuir.
"It's
him or
despair."
"What's underneath despair, Ollie?" asked Rodney Collins, in
his af-
fable, abstracted way.
They were walking through underground
hallways that
new concrete. They passed now under Lot Five
smelled of
still
of the Spiritual Freedom
Complex, the corridors seemingly endless and empty, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the metal pipes snaking the ceiling. All the circumlocution to reach the
Dunsmuir thought;
smacked of the
it
Teacher was a
bit
folderol the Sufis
of a bore,
really,
and the Tibetan
monks put you through before you could reach their inner sanctums. The point was some psychological state they wanted you in, and not the supposed secrecy of the Teacher.
O Dark Truth, spread your cape for me; O Vlad the Living Gateway, open your white "I
lips
and show me
mean," Collins was
long strides were making
saying, it
the key
.
.
.
"what are the borders of despair?" His
difficult for the shorter, stockier
Dunsmuir
keep pace wdth him. His English accent and his English reserve a subject
like
despair
saw the glimmering, and a warmth
seem
cool, detached.
again, just for a
But glancing
moment,
reddened hand through
his receding, curly
"You've got to go through in order to
come
Dunsmuir shrugged. The remark was an nothing new, nothing
They'd
at last
new
at
brown
Collins' ran a
hair
camera lens over the
Really Weird Stories
and went on,
esoteric
commonplace, and
all.
Dunsmuir and
elevator.
work-
out, what?"
reached the elevator at the end of the
blue-painted metal doors.
him, Dunsmuir
in Collins' dusty blue eyes,
mouth.
in the rueful curve of Collins'
at
to
made even
Collins looked
hall.
up
Ordinary
at the
little
A light beside the camera was flashing red.
56
Lot
Five,
Building Seven,
"My name's Rodney
Door Twenty-three
There was an electronic
to the door. "I
he said
Collins,"
hesitation.
John Shirley
Then
know Webb."
the elevator doors opened.
Dunsmuir mused over the exchange with computer. "You said you knew Webb. Is that a code-phrase
In the elevators, riding up,
the security
or ...
?
"No. He's head of
Security, they
buzzed him and he
may be
willing to
see me." "I
thought you said you'd been here before— that you were in here!"
"I
said nothing of the sort,
They stepped out side, as
they
my
dear fellow— ah, here's our floor."
into the shiny hallway.
moved down
the
hall,
was a
The
entire wall
tinted
on
their right
window. Beyond
it,
the
towers and elevated tramways of New York. He could make out the brown smudge of what had been Central Park; the plants and trees were uniformly dead now, of course. There was talk of putting a bubble over the park, but they probably wouldn't get the funding. Spiking the horizon, the Earth-to-Orbit access shaft, under construction since 2013,
some
like
Looking the
whiskered-alloy
at
ETO would
They strode "You did
Tower of Babel gouging
Dunsmuir had an
it,
say,"
was
the ceiling of clouds.
Tower of
intuition that, like the
Babel,
never be finished. past potted plants, and pleasant, meaningless murals.
Dunsmuir went on, "you were
in
with Vlad. You
knew the
Teacher." Collins chuckled.
the mind, hear.
it's
"No matter how much one
No, old chum,
to see
learns about the filters of
always astonishing the sort of things that people think they I
did not say
him— and you could come
I
knew
the Teacher.
I
said
I
was going
along."
"But—you've never—?" "No.
I've
never been here before."
Then
"Well fuck. fury
simmer up
this
is
a waste of time." Dunsmuir
felt
frustration
and
So much had been a waste of time. The Gnostic
in him.
Christians, the Theosophists, the Buddhists; the Children of Crowley;
the
Temple of Set; the
half
and the therapeutic scam ther
complex
dozen other artists
esoteric disciplines he'd pursued
he'd fallen victim
to.
frauds, like the Scientologists, or they
They were
all ei-
were simply new
ways to ask the questions; they posed no answers.
Dunsmuir knew about wasted "I mean," he went on, gritting this far before, right
up
to the
time. his teeth to
keep
his temper, "I've
been
door of Building Seven. With Singh.
used to get in-but they won't even
let
him
in to the
He
Teacher now. They
say the Teacher's sequestered for good."
Really Weird Stories
Lot Five, Building Seven, Door Twenty-three
John Shirley "Oh," Collins said ing,
you
him.
It's
a matter of tim-
see."
day of the week and every hour of the day, Collins!"
"I've tried every
meant— time
"I
breezily, "I think we'll see
in a
And
broader sense.
more
in a
holistic sense. In
several directions at once."
Dunsmuir
sighed.
"More
from Christian Rosenkruz Crowley "I
mystical claptrap. I've heard
it all,
Collins,
to Steiner to Blavatsky to Franklin Jones to
to Ouspensky. Spare me."
hope
to, actually."
They'd come to a white desk at the end of the rust colored carpet. behind the desk was a black
man
knew damn well he was
more than a
aged man,
in
dark
a lot
glasses, a silver
He
of the Teacher's followers. Collins, turned
in a security guard's uniform.
security guard.
"You
Who
"I
back to Dunsmuir as
He
." .
.
shook
backwards out of
and bolted from
if
gende touch of
"The Center
for Spiritual
stare at Collins.
Freedom
is
that touch;
man who turned
from
.
.
.
Collins' mild eyes, the
not interested in comforting pana-
The Teacher who
is
you
for your
money in
return
Center for Spiritual Free-
at the
life,
inner and outer'," Danitra mut-
along with the videotape narrator. "Christ.
it
What
is
I'm going backwards." Danitra Johnson shifted in her chair, watch-
ing the big video screen at the other
long legged black
woman,
the symbols of the
initiate;
she wore the standard black jeans and initiate;
a year of initiatory seminars in lost in
some
end of the waiting room. She was a
her hair shaven close to her skull and cut into
and the black sandals of the
now she had a suspicion she
sort of theocratic bureaucracy.
video-the same she'd seen
before-was here only to thing encrypted in
She was,
t-shirt,
V in her left ear, she had
she had the
her head and
But she made herself watch the Introductory Video. this
He
interested only in—"
tered, finishing
was
back to
dodge
in terror
"-'radically transforming your
this.
at
his callused hands.
for false promises. is
Dunsmuir, glanced
reached out to touch the black
ceas, in maternalistic therapies, in soaking
dom
at
him—then did a doubletake
to rebuke
his chair to
Ran
his desk.
a middle
his head. "I can't."
He
can," Collins said.
fell
He was
V stapled through his left ear, as had most
looked disdainfully
right out of a twentieth century movie, turning
swallowed.
Sitting
Dunsmuir
herself,
it
test
when
she
Really Weird Stories
It
could be that
joined the Center a year
her patience, or perhaps there was some-
she hadn't seen the
on
first
first
time
a video screen in the next
.
.
.
room.
57
58
Lot Five, Building Seven, Door Twenty-three OO OO
John Shirley
CX3
James Webb, the direct descendant of the man Bram Stoker had called "Van Helsing," was frowning as he watched Danitra on the video screen.
The black woman, a former model, was a
of the waiting room. She
late against the pastels
pressed energy.
Oh yes. He would
there
would never be a
the hoped-for creature
moment
own
of Divine
he
shivered;
uses ...
felt
a
It
chill
much
Webb was
He
as
beginning to think that
mass" with Him; there would never be
And
Satiety.
this exquisite, intelligent
would be simply wasted. Webb considered
the herd for his
He
"critical
quivered with sup-
fairly
enjoy her, of course, as
could enjoy anything, anymore. But
and choco-
stroke of charcoal
wouldn't be the
from
cutting her out
first
time
go through him. Was
it
.
.
.
His influence,
reaching through the walls— or a withdrawal from the specially treated cigarettes
Webb smoked?
a mild addiction so
far.
Probably
Not
like
while
test.
A test
Webb glanced
to
was the
the other
Him. That, now, was worth
to
it
fighting.
Only
synthetic morphine.
one— the
ancestral addiction
This
might be a worth-
girl
answer the question: Could
He
be denied?
were
pre-
He
didn't see
the
and
really
sumably gone; sent away by the guard, as per Webb's instructions.
at the other monitors. Collins
his friend
them on the monitor. So perhaps he was
free to dally
with
girl.
Webb made
his decision.
He went through the door into
the waiting
room. "Ms. Johnson?" "Yes?" She uncoiled
from her yellow
plastic chair like a pit viper.
O Divider and Unifier, O Destroyer and Renewer, the
cauterize
of pity and fear, and remake me, remake
irrelevancies
me
from
utterly
me .
.
.
"I'm Jim Webb." "I
know who you
sorry. "It
are."
She grimaced
at
her
own
impatience. "I'm
This video—"
seems
old hat? Well. Yes and no."
like
charming patrician look— the older
man
Webb
smiled, trying for his
with the disarming smile, the
white temples, the dark, confident eyes. He'd always had good luck with that particular image. "It's just
that
I
feel ...
I
know
." .
.
are. But as you know— and the general announcement went out— He is not seeing anyone at this time." "But— Georgei said, on the telephone—"
"That you're ready. I'm sure you
"That there are exceptions. Yes."
And
one, he thought. "But—The Teacher
deep
is
I
hope you won't have
not ready
at this time.
to
He's
be in
intra-cyclic meditation."
Really Weird Stories
Lot Five, Building Seven, Door Twenty-three
John Shirley She stared glowered
"No. To ready.
at
him. She glanced past him, at
at the floor.
"Very well.
my meditation temple. We'll prepare
However long
Door Twenty, then
she
back to the Ashram.^"
It's
ourselves there
till
He is
takes ..."
it
He could imagine her long, muscular limbs against his. The thought of her African-dark thighs cupping his pale, Uimesced genitals ... he hoped she didn't note the growing bulge in his pants' crotch
He
stepped to the door opposite-moving
.
.
.
hastily to hide the telltale
evidence of his intentions— and opened the door for her. It swung inward—and she shoved Webb through it. She was strong; the story of her
being a black-belt might well be true.
He
turned in time to see her slam the door in his face.
her wedge a chair against
Danitra's heart
it
on the other
Then he heard
side.
was pounding. Webb had made the mistake of
leaving
the other door unlocked. She wasn't going to lose the chance. She'd got-
Door Twenty. From what she knew of Building Seven, that three more doors between her and the Teacher. She was fairly sure—or so she told herself, as she strode down the forbidden hallway— that He wanted her to do just this. To break the rules. ten through
meant there were only
That sending
Webb
out to seemingly misdirect her was a
My rules are rigid, inflexible, and pletely expendable. You II know when One Who Knows
.
that time comes.
You
com-
will then
be
.
.
Even through the heavy walls of the Center for
Dunsmuir could hear the people daring the upper airlocks.
test.
utterly necessary—and also
sirens
streets
Spiritual
Freedom,
announcing a Toxic Front. The few
would be scrambling
Another Black Wind was coming, bearing
for the underplex
lethal toxins
manu-
factured in the upper atmosphere by evaporated pesticides and manufacturing by-products, pollutants chemically transfigured by the UVs; the
heavier UVs, admitted
same
now
that the
ozone
layer
ultraviolets that slowly toasted the worid
was all but gone. The on the spit of its axis,
destroying crops and oceanic plankton, shattering the food chain, ing the famines: the
riots,
initiat-
the hundreds of brush wars over the globe's
remaining pockets of resources. The complexes of urban undergrounds
and sealed
buildings, the hydroponic high rises,
gering on. Especially those born into times he thought that despite the walls
would
fall
.
.
Really Weird Stories
.
all
money
had kept the race
like
stag-
Dunsmuir. But some-
the electronic and concrete barricades,
59
6o
Lot
"The not
Building Seven,
Five,
siren's
Door Twenty-three
a frightening sound,
John Shirley murmured, seeming
Collins
isn't it?"
frightened.
at all
They were walking up a stairway. The guards had frozen the elevators, now, but Collins always seemed to know where there was an unlocked door.
"The
Dunsmuir was thinking
siren?"
Rodney
Collins,
that he
was more frightened of
now, than the Black Winds. The way the guard had
acted; the way the doors seemed to come unlocked
What
re-
at his touch.
know about Collins? Precious little. Collins was a self God" who traveled from community to community—
did he
styled "servant of
and had done so even before they went underplex—and offered whatever
vices as "a builder— of
and
wood and
whatever was
plastic,
of the Masters of the various spiritual disciplines, and to
he
liked.
He knew
a great deal about yoga, and just as
Stations of the Cross tain Schools" as a
and the
lives
young man, and
of the
saints.
He
"The
had studied
it all
.
.
it
.
people into looking for God," Collins was
sirens have frightened
"and they have given the powers of entropy great
saying,
the televangelists
real irony,
now,
in the
Dunsmuir was puffing with to feel
it's
joy,
way he
you
since
been
and the Scientologists and the other
things being relative. Tell me... what brought
There was
in "cer-
scared him. Collins
people have, in their panic, run the wrong way. But
most
lovely for
parasites. All
to the 'Teacher'?"
said 'Teacher'.
effort at the climb; Collins didn't
seem
it.
"The june.
come and go as much about the
that sort of mysteriousness always set
Dunsmuir's teeth on edge—but in Collins' case,
was altogether too casual about
his ser-
He built housing of metal around. He seemed to know most
needed."
is
miracles, of course,"
He
Dunsmuir
said,
knowing
it
would sound
je-
was supposed to be attracted to the Teacher purely for His
Spiritual Profundity.
"He was
tested everywhichway by every skeptic in
the world. All the best stage magicians, electronic techies—no one could explain the levitations, the
power over animals, the vanishings ... the
other miracles."
"Did you ever notice that the miracles were always performed
at
night?" Collins asked, offhandedly.
"He exactly "It
explained that— the sun's vibratory energy
is
...
I
can't
remember
." .
.
never does
fail
to astonish
They reached the top then froze.
landing.
The camera seemed
me," Collins
said, chuckling.
A security camera whirred toward them-and as
spooked
as the black security guard
had
Really Weird Stories
Lot
John Shirley been.
"Is this it?"
Oh
"What? click.
Dunsmuir
Five,
Building Seven,
Door Twenty-three
asked, almost childlike in his
no, no," Collins said, putting his
"No, we've got to go
down
sudden eagerness.
hand on the door.
Click-
now."
He opened the door and Dunsmuir followed him through—and found now outside. They were standing on a metal
were
to his horror that they
outdoor stairway, a sort of emergency escape
There was some
shelter
The
stairs, in
the
open
air.
from a metal roof over the stairway—but
wind teased
it
their nostrils
with hydrocar-
toxic front isn't here yet," Collins replied, with
maddening un-
wasn't sealed
off.
bons,
PCBs and heavy
sulfites,
dirty
metals.
"We'll choke out here!"
"The
concern,
"You
"I
think we'll
think!
We
make
into Building Seven before
it
it
gets here."
haven't got respirators!"
But Collins was already
clattering
down
the pitted metal
Dunsmuir, pahns sweating, turned to the door behind him.
The hell with Collins. The door was shut; the knob wouldn't God, oh fuck!"
stairs.
He was
go-
ing back.
He
turn.
He was
locked out.
"Oh
turned and hurried after Collins.
He's insane. I'm going to die out here with a madman.
She might have known But she could
feel
Door Twenty-three was
it.
Him
in there: a pulsing
locked.
from beyond the door; a
throbbing of sheer presence, unheard, but distinctly
felt,
in the
bone
sockets and teeth. If I
can
Him, she thought, then He can feel me. before the door and began to pray.
feel
She knelt
"That won't get His attention, though he might enjoy the pose could see
it,"
Webb
said,
stepping up behind
if
He
her.
Danitra got slowly to her feet and turned to face him, expecting him to
be with several burly security guards. But Webb was alone. "I'm going to give you a chance to save your life," Webb said, "not because I'm any kind of philanthropist-I'm too much a scientist for
that-but because
"What
you threatening
are
I
prize beauty."
me
with?" Danitra asked. She decided she
could take him, long before he could pull a gun from his
"Me? Not a
thing.
I
that door, though, well
..."
He
"Test me, then," she said. "And
another of them."
Really Weird Stories
suit jacket.
won't do a thing to you myself. You go through shrugged. I
will pass the tests.
And I know this
is
6i
62
Lot Five, Building Seven, Door Twenty-three
He
actually laughed in her face. "You're so bright
same
the
John Shirley
time!
and so
childlike at
My dear Danitra ... all tests are quite concluded, except Him. My hypotheses with respect to Him have been
those that involve
disproved, or nearly so.
"You're
To
.
.
.
And
have studied him long enough.
I
I
know."
studying him?"
Webb
her astonishment,
anymore. "I'm studying him,
lit
yes.
You
a cigarette.
didn't see
them often
My esteemed ancestor began the pracWhom Stoker called Van Helsing—
Funny old Professor Von Weber.
tice.
and made look
some
like
sort of scientifically-minded saint. But the real
'Van Helsing' was a pederast, a heroin addict, and had an unwholesome fascination—one
back
home
I
understand
in Wallachia, as
all
too well—with Vlad Veovod. Known,
The Son of the Dragon. The
Whom
Impaler.
Stoker renamed: Dracula."
She smiled. "This
test is rather transparent."
"Oh get over it." Suddenly Webb seemed much older, much wearier. "We can't study him, you know. That's what I've come to believe ." He .
.
leaned against the wall beside her. "You can only serve him or fight him."
He
down the hall. "I wonder where come to that?"
glanced up and
gone
.
.
could
.
it
They heard another warning yowl of sounded almost "Another call
like
damned
irony,
people
The drawn-out note
sirens.
trumpets. Like a clarion
call
from the sky
itself.
He made them—Dracula, the entity you make them, with His influence, and then, a
toxic alert.
the Teacher—He helped
grand
the guards have
all
have
like
you ask
Him to remake the world
her the cigarette. "Want a hit of this?
I'm afraid I'm kind of jonesed for
." .
.
He offered
A bit of smokeable morphine in
it.
it."
She shook her head. Was he joking? Or
testing her again?
The smoke
did smell strange.
Webb's eyes glazed over his voice slurring slightly,
brain,
as
he drew on the
"He was
you know. The bloodsuckers
aged along ...
I
like
...
cigarette,
and he went on,
a spiritual tumor in the social all
the bloodsuckers he encour-
remember Mike Milken— that was before your time—
and Charles Keating and the Dow-Corning people and the Chevron people and the Bank of Credit and bide and the
how He really
Mob and the Vatican bankers
relished
that level
Commerce people and Union
it all
.
.
.
how it fed Him
was never enough
.
... .
.
all
Car-
the bloodsuckers
.
.
but of course drinking on
for ol' Vlad. His appetites are very basic,
." .
.
She shook her head. stoned, crazy or acting.
Webb—the "Open
Teacher's
High Devotee—was
either
the door," she said.
Really Weird Stories
Lot Five, Building Seven, Door Twenty-three
John Shirley
Webb
looked
ride-tube to
makes
life
and shook
at her
his
head
"Downstairs there's a
firmly.
my plex. High security, high comfort. Lots of everything that an antfarm still worth living. Come with me."
in
She gazed
at
him and saw
real lust, real loneliness,
and
But that
real fear.
shouldn't surprise you, said something less than a voice in her head.
It is
the
The ones closest to Jesus, too, were often the blindest She turned and pounded on the door. To her astonishment—and Webb's dismay—it opened. The door was opened by an old man with a bald head, a walrus mus-
Judas
effect.
tache,
and
Eastern
.
black-brown eyes.
striking, sad,
outfit,
a vaguely Middle
baggy trousers and sandals and a rough tunic from some
And around
other century—or from a costume shop.
heavy iron
He wore
.
collar,
rusted with age.
It
his
neck was a
was studded and bolted and
have been painful, even after an hour or
so.
She could
tell it
it
must
had been
there for years.
"You
to
come
in.
She recognized
Miss?" the old
Ivanovitch. She'd only
"Georgei,"
Webb
man
said.
Russian accent and gravelly voice.
his
spoken to
Georgei
him on the phone.
said dangerously, "close that
door and go away."
"Can not do. Dr. Van Helsing— "That
is
not funny."
Georgei smiled as tor Webb.'
Webb
Can not
if
to say,
it
was
funny, in a sad sort of way. "Sorry. 'Doc-
The Master, He feel her here. Is too late." if enduring some cryptic pain. "Where are the
close door.
closed his eyes as
guards?" he asked, his eyes
still
shut, nervously sucking at the stub of his
cigarette.
"He take them too. Could not wait. He very afraid now." "What-he took ... all of them?" Webb opened his eyes and looked sharply at Georgei.
So many! But growth does not stop." Georgei threw Door Twenty-three wide open and stepped back. "Yes.
"Both, please come. Pretty Lady wants. Pretty Lady gets."
Danitra hesitated, feeling as liquid along her spine.
Webb
Georgei turned to Webb.
Teacher too. "You're in
"For a "I
if
someone were dripping
didn't
He
a thick, cold
move.
chuckled. "You
Von Weber." a damned cheerful mood," Webb
come
to say hello to
said, glaring at
Georgei.
slave."
have seen in dream:
Looisil,
my
he speaks to me."
Really Weird Stories
atonement ends.
It
ends today. The Angel
63
64 Lot
Five,
Webb
Building Seven,
Door Twenty-three
snorted. "BuUshit."
Danitra hesitated
room beyond.
It
on
the threshold of the dimly
black curtained
lit,
smelled of iron and sweat. But then she remembered
the Twenty-third Invocation: fear.
John Shirley
the brink of your salvation, I tremble in
At
Open wide your wings and enfold me
.
.
.
She took a deep breath and stepped through. Then she turned to see if
Webb was Behind
coming. She preferred more company, here.
her,
Webb was
away—and then turned
man
shaking his head. "I'm going home."
unwillingly back toward the door.
Moving
like
a
caught in an unseen current, he staggered through the door, and
into the black curtained
Dunsmuir was only a
room beyond.
little
Door Twenty-three unwent contrary to everything he knew
surprised to find
locked and unguarded. True,
it
about the Center. But with Collins along, surprise was inevitable
seemed
to have
the door
was a
same time
was dusty but
five
huge idol dimly seen
for the path
one
draped in shadows; time.
Its
at the far
covered the windows near the
it
cavernous
inte-
The
con-
between Door Twenty-three and the
end of the room. High overhead, hunched
forms crouched on the guano-crusted ceiling;
steel rafters.
Black velvet curtains
the far walls were stark and murky.
here; they could see their breaths, in the faint light that
struck in shafts, here against the high is
at
or six stories up, hundreds of feet across.
reached
crete floor
was cold
vast one,
been an airplane hangar,
rior spaces
"What
at the
and inappropriate.
The room beyond
It
He turned
and
there,
where the
curtains
were not quite snug
windows. Dunsmuir and Collins walked on.
that?"
Dunsmuir asked,
in a whisper, peering at the idol.
"A
Buddha?" Collins laughed softly at that. "Buddha!"
Nearer the idol was a thirty feet
above the
circle
And he
laughed again.
of high black curtains
floor; the curtains
on runners about
were drawn partly back so
Dunsmuir could see only the silhouette of the idol beyond. As they neared the curtained-off area, Dunsmuir's eyes adjusted— or perhaps there was a kind of black
from the bulky
figure
on
the dais.
light
It
was
emanating, almost unseeably, cold; but
Dunsmuir found he
was sweating. ITiey reached the curtain, and there less
came a
cry that
was something
than a wail and more than a moan, a cry of soul-deep
ment and
And
betrayal.
disillusion-
A woman's voice.
then they stepped through the partition.
Really Weird Stories
Lot Five, Building Seven, Door Twenty-three
John Shirley The
figure lying
on
the cushioned dais, propped
two story house; was not an
as a
"living"
on an elbow, was big
was the "Teacher." In the
idol. It
flesh,
but not breathing; he had no need to breathe.
Dracula was draped in the same sort of black velvet cloth— hundreds of square yards of it—that hung from the runners and covered the win-
He was a giant. He was bloated, pig-like now, though no pig had grown this big, bigger than a blue whale—and his face was tormented by hunger. The deepset eyes, the heavy eyebrows, the Slavic dows. ever
mouth—all of it quivered with a tortured need, new victim he only grew thirstier. He'd gone bald and his hands—big as krakens— shook as he reached for the man hanging
cheekbones, the seductive as
if
with each
great
on a hook beside his head. It was the black guard who'd run from Collins below. He was stripped nude, and hanging by a hook through the jaw, alive and wriggling but unable to speak, choked with trickling blood. Vlad Veovod, Dracula, the
Son of the Dragon, and writhed his
in
lifted the
black
pain— and took him
man
hook—the man groaned two hands, and brought him to
off the
in his
mouth.
Dunsmuir and the others—Webb, the woman who knelt before Dracula amid the ruins of the drained people, and Rodney Collinswatched
in dull
amazement
as Dracula
puncmred the black man's
chest
and belly with his fangs, fangs the size of sabers, so that his victim writhed out gushes of thick red. But rather than drinking
withdrew his fangs and raised the
him out
a wet rag, squeezed
Though choked, spine
was twisted
torso,
the
into his
mouth
man managed
apart,
and he
it
thus,
Dracula
man over his head and wrung him like
split
showering Dracula's upturned
.
.
.
a single piercing shriek, before his
open between the two lips
rents in his
with blood.
"Behold, the Teacher," Collins said dryly. "It's
... an illusion ... a vision ..."
"My you
Dunsmuir stammered.
are in denial, Oliver," Collins commented.
Dracula roared in frustration and disappointment, and tossed the gutted, drained corpse disgustedly onto the floor before him. It fell with a sickening slap.
"Not enough
yet,
Vlad?" Collins asked
airily,
stepping forward. At
were the wreckages of other victims-judg-
below the dais, ing by the uniforms and outfits that had been stripped away like the Collins' feet,
peels of
and
A
fruit,
they'd been the inner circle of devotees
cult executives;
great
those the "Teacher" had saved
moan went up from
Really Weird Stories
till
and bodyguards last.
the rafters-where crouched hundreds.
65
66 Lot
Five,
Building Seven,
Door Twenty-three
John Shirley
Dunsmuir saw, of Dracula's "initiates." Those not fortunate enough be simply drained and destroyed
the shadows, toward Collins—with a sword in his
Someone came from hand.
It
"Look
.
.
.
to
was Georgei.
Dimsmuir
out, Collins!"
Collins turned toward the
man
said, staggering back.
wielding the sword—but only smiled.
He made some kind, then knelt before Collins, weeping with joy, and handed him the sword. "Oh Angel, I beg you now release me." He said something more in Russian-Armenian. Collins answered in the same dialect. Then he accepted the sword and struck down with it. The ornate sword struck the collar on Georgei's neck— and split it. The blade shouldn't have been able to break iron, but it did. Georgei cried out, and fell on his face, shaking, the life Georgei had raised the sword over his head each one a
several passes in the air with
it,
going from him, babbling in
joy.
"You have atoned long enough, G. innocents to him. In a
movement
Go
No
ritualistically.
.
of
sigil
longer will you have to bring
to the Betsveen place,
as startling as a
.
.
and await Word."
house unfolding
itself,
Dracula stood,
draperies flapping with a bullwhip sound, floor shaking under his bare feet.
Dunsmuir threw himself down, crawling away from the heat of
Dracula's rage,
and found himself crouched beside the black woman
He'd seen her
at
"Oh no
it's
a
one of the seminars. Danitra
lie it's
a
lie it's
a
lie
.
.
."
.
lips—but Collins
made
mock
.
.
made
a gesture, and Georgei's
silver butterflies that fluttered
Dracula's head like a
.
she wept.
Dracula bent and snatched up Georgei and
with a cloud of
.
to raise
him
to his
body vanished, replaced
up
into the air
and about
of a halo. Dracula howled and swiped at
them, and they drifted away and up and became a luminous mist, that slipped right through the ceiling. "It's frustrating, is it?"
Collins said, speaking softly but his voice carry-
ing to every corner of the
enormous room.
"Yes, Count,
I
expect
it is.
How
many chances were you given, Vlad? You were driven from this world many times—and many times you let your rage feed you, and you found your way back, until at last you were incorporated into the Great Plan by your Master Dracula's voice strike.
"Be
"Demons
as
.
came
silent, fly
masquerade
.
.
and by like
his
Master
." .
.
the sizzling sound that follows a lightning
of God! Your buzzing aggravates
my
torment!
You
an angel but you are a demon!"
made within men, Vlad," Collins replied calmly. "And you were one such. The Impaler. And then less than a man— with a hunare
Really Weird Stories
Lot
John Shirley
Five,
Building Seven,
Door Twenty-three
ger beyond men, when Stoker told your tale. And now in self mockery you grow—but you are not nurtured. You have infected the world with
your greed, your bloodthirstiness, trying to
finally get
never
just
will. You'll
never have enough. You're
dovm and
Shaking with rage, Dracula reached
enough, but you
a hungry
little
boy
." .
.
snatched at Collins, his
roar like thunder echoing in a cavern, his great, clawed fingers closing
around the diminutive
And floor.
figure
.
.
.
He
then screaming at the touch.
Something passed from
to the spark
And
shown passing from God
Dracula was uncreated.
like
beacons.
And
for a
to
Adam on
Silver-blue
through him, and crackled between within
could not
from the
an opposite charge
the Sistine ceiling
electricity
his fangs,
moment, the
Collins
lift
Collins, into Dracula,
and
lit
.
.
shivered visibly
up from
his eyes
divine energy blazoned out
something that had been hidden before, something only recently imprinted
on
the Lord of Vampire's forehead:
666,
This completed, the energy detonated within the monstrous corpus of the Lord of the Living Dead, and he was sundered from head to foot,
torn
open and turned
trapped
with them those
who
out—freeing,
inside
spirits that spiraled
upwards
in the process, ten-thousand
in silver skeins of release
.
.
.
Taking
crouched on the rafters— taking them up, and out,
through a ceiling suddenly become as vaporous as cloud. This time, there really was nothing
left
of him. Nothing but a lump in
a puddle that turned the stomach to look upon. Collins turned to Danitra
They knew
Collins
what
and Dunsmuir, and took them by the hands.
for
who he
was, and
let
him
made, outside these real world,"
he
said.
walls.
The veil
"And see
it
is
them like a some changes
lead
parent v^th two children, out the door. "There've been
torn away. Let's go and look at the
for the
first
time."
They left Webb—the genetic and spiritual echo of Van Helsing—lying on the floor, sobbing for his loss, the loss of his master and his enemy. Never knovmg which was which.
Really Weird Stories
67
Kindred
Harry brought Norris a golden twelve years, and they were,
Norris told him
how
ting out of the state
and
how
knife.
his kids
pen
for
Norris had been Harry's fence for
not friends
if
were doing and when
a person actually had to
when he went
was
it.
get-
buy a house. He'd got
for that stolen knife.
crew—
he figured he'd get a
steal things. Yes,
price because Norris loved gold: he
rings, a
his wife
into someone's house with a carpet cleaning
which he did mostly so he could
good
something close to
women and how to hide things from the IRS
Harry had figured he'd get a good price it
exactly,
had gold watches,
gold pendant, two gold chains, a gold painted
six
gold
car.
Norris surprised him by offering him a low price for the knife.
man. Fine workmanship,
"That's solid gold,
an antiques
I
checked
it
in
fourteen karat. Sharp and in mint condition.
register. Solid
want three times
solid gold.
I
that."
Norris refused, but he couldn't take his eyes off the knife. So Harry, still
surprised, shrugged
and put the
"I'm outta here," and he was even
gym bag and said, when Norris jerked
knife back in the
more
surprised
the bag away, took out the knife, and stabbed
him
in the chest
with
it.
Norris stood over him with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry. always liked you.
I
to pay for like that.
brought
me
ten
want
didn't
gold.
It's
silver
to
It's
pay for that
beautiful.
But
knife, though. I
had
to have
wish you'd
spoons worth the same as you wanted.
bought them. But gold
.
.
.
and a knife perfect
for killing, both.
the gold go, or the knife, but not both the gold and the knife."
Harry whispered,
Then he I
mean,
"I
understand, man.
I
do."
died, but he died understanding. it
made complete
sense. Totally.
too good
It's
it. I
I
I I
would've could
let
The Word "Random," Deliberately Repeated
He
was
tired of the library.
were shaped
like
The
faint,
echoing words of the librarian
the books they passed through.
He
lingered in the
scant poetry section.
No one reads poetry at this jock university, he thought. Lots of dust on the
book
He
covers.
They
haven't been checked out in ages.
leaned his large athlete's frame against the lonely shelves and
membered
re-
the canyons of eastern Oregon.
He closed his eyes: He and Maria were drunk together. It hadn't been too hard to seduce They lay balmed in her. You can't seduce someone who doesn't want it.
the smell of sage and sequoia.
They
rolled off the blankets in search of
new touchings and caked their bare sweaty skin with warm from the sun that was laying torch to the horizon.
He remembered
dust, dust
the desert and Maria often because of one special
peculiarity in the incident: afterward, they
had not regretted
it.
They washed and sobered themselves in a canyon stream. But a move to dress, though the air grew chill. With most, it was
made
over and followed by an embarrassed silence and
But not with Maria. They had desert sunset burn
hill
like.
neither quickly
a scuffle to get dressed.
sat together, close for
the outline of the
school, about the team-letters ceremonies
had pretended to
still
warmth, watching the
in the sky.
He
thought about
and the cheerleaders that he
No one had understood when he refused to go out
The team had berated him for trying to start a poetry club-that was for women. Had Haggart gone faggot? But he loved The Game and the feel of muscles that were so much a part of his responses that they jumped as his thoughts did. He loved to
for football that last time.
feel the pain of pushing past his limit and the feeling of growth afterward. And, as Maria pulled him again on top of her, he thought of the
70 The Word "Random," Deliberately Repeated sexual elasticity of contact sports
John Shirley
and the orgasmic
swell of
Making
It,
of Scoring.
The desert evening draped them, pressed them closer together. They moved against each other like clapping hands at a pep rally. As he reared and shuddered over
her, his vision
The randomly placed boulders of
seemed
to coalesce; then sharpen.
the hillside were scattered seemingly
He
without pattern, edged and shaped without purpose. ticed any organization in the
morose shapes of the desert or the crum-
bling wind-swept canyons. But now, they
seemed
tonishing coherence. Each boulder, each stone
on
elaboration
They had
a central theme.
codified to an
desert sun burns stark
its
to shift, falling into as-
and gnarled bush became
relationship,
mented orgasmic second, they came together alien intent.
had never no-
and
in that frag-
as
though
in
The image was burned
into his
mind
an order as the
landscape.
He was
He opened his
eyes:
The image of
the broken layers of rock and shale, of torn igneous
lumps and gouged ravines was
back in the
still
strong.
library,
He
but
looked
.
.
.
at the directly pur-
poseful arrangement of the books in the library, and suddenly
felt
the
desert image transposed over them.
They were the same.
He looked at the to forget that they
knowledge that mal System. tions.
on
objects lining the shelves
this
He
They were
was a
library,
and allowed himself briefly
laid aside, for the
ordered, according to the
moment,
the
Dewey Deci-
saw the books stripped of anthropomorphic
associa-
new and unidentifiable, bound together random. Some were tall, reaching almost to
alien objects,
the shelf apparently at
the next shelf;
And he
were books.
some were
and
thick
He
others were short and thin.
fat,
three times the width of most;
could see no pattern in their visual
ar-
rangement. They progressed with three high and thin ones, went to four
low and
thick ones, shifted to pamphlets.
with random
tint
He laughed, swathed
in
and
loudly.
They were colored
at
random,
texture.
A scuffle, of feet. Something on two spindly limbs
green cones of cloth waved a gangly wrinkled upper limb at
him and flapped its lips. It said something he chose not to hear. He looked away from the thing and back to the wild chaos of straight ravines filled with rectangles.
They were ordered
He
again.
stopped playing the game.
Dewey Decimal
System.
You can look up
anything you want in the card catalog.
He
ignored the librarian
who was whispering angrily at him
for ignor-
ing her.
Really Weird Stories
The Word "Random," Deliberately Repeated
John Shirley
He
window
caught a glimpse of himself in a
broad chest and shoulders, short black
tall,
back from the reflection shirt, jeans,
hair,
he
and tennis shoes. Big
blue eyes that looked
human
he thought.
deal,
the building:
left
He wore
a separate person would.
like
thing that'd never seen a
as
I
wonder
a blue
some-
if
before would see a purpose in the
way
I'm put together?
The campus was emptier than
the desert. All the buildings were cast in
same ugly gray concrete mold, mottled by
the
metal supports for the forms had been. stretched uninterrupted
from top
to
little
holes where the
The long naked windows
bottom concentrated
ency on him as though he were an ant burning under a magnifying
There were a few stunted There was no
life
on the
trees set in pots
that
thin transparglass.
concrete.
in the passing self-involved faces.
There was no
fertil-
ity
in the cement. Haggart debated with himself as to whether he should
go
to class. Sociology.
Where
societies as concrete as their
Forget him.
He
it,
he decided.
He
it
was
the fluid
movements of
started, hearing a feminine voice call after
turned, half expecting to see a
eyed Maria. But
make
they tried to
campus casement.
Blonde
Leslie.
smooth dark Chicana short
hair,
skirt, trite
face, dark-
questions in
philosophy.
"Where you going?" she asked. "Home. Where you going?"
"Come
He
on.
I'll
followed.
really pretty.
give
He
Uses make-up
her? All the beautiful
"Here
it is,"
ride."
symmetry of her
at the doll-like
well.
women,
Big
tits.
in this
goddamn
in.
Her
pay
She drove
for her birth control.
easily
one hand. Very
university,
I
should
be-
parents probably paid for the car, he thought.
And whether
they paid for her tuition and room.
not, they
profile. She's
how come I'm not attracted to
So
she said, interrupting his thoughts. She unlocked a red
Camaro and got
And
you a
looked
And
from the parking
casual.
lot
they
know
it
or
so they pay for me.
and
into the street, steering with
Very cool.
"How do you like the philosophy class?"
she asked, trying to spark the
conversation. Finally, out of habitual politeness, he answered,
"She proselytizes. Everybody swallows body,
tries to
make
Plato
sound
"You're right," she said. She
but
it
like
it.
She pushes her Zen on every-
a narrow-minded ass."
would
say that.
doesn't have any pragmatic value.
I
"Zen
is
fun to play with,
mean, the philosophy has to
serve the people; otherwise you've just got an excuse to
Really Weird Stories
." .
.
71
72
The Word "Random," Deliberately Repeated
He mind
poem began
to
he watched the autumn-yellow trees flash
by.
listening. Pieces
stopped as
John Shirley
of a
fall
together in his
Some
lost part of their leaves already and they bared limbs as
short-sleeved shirts.
He
him a puzzled sideways
He
fell silent.
At
of them had if
they wore
interrupted her and asked for a pencil. She gave look, then indicated the glove
compartment and
found a scrap of paper to write on.
speed, not really autOy
this
trees revolve like children
on a
carousel;
arms, branches, outstretched.
white teeth
break the edges of clouds into film-negative clownfaces.
The clown even
faces
would continue laughing
we had an
if
accident.
"What's that?" Leslie asked "Just
some
notes.
She pulled up
mock
sigh, "here
when he
finished.
Reminding myself of something."
in front of his
we
are."
apartment house. "Well," she said
She looked
at
in a
him, obviously expecting to be
asked in "for a joint or something."
He
almost asked her, then realized that he
her, that
if
he asked her
in
it
really didn't
would only be because one
not to waste an opportunity. But he said only, "See quickly out of the car
and walked up the
to pick
up odds and ends of
minutes he had enough.
ya."
want
to see
always careful
And
climbed
steps.
He stopped at the top step and remembered the He heard Leslie drive off. He walked back and down the road a block to a began
is
desert in the library.
small park
where he
Htter that lay in the grass. In a
few
He walked home, but just before he reached his
apartment the uncomfortably familiar voice of Benny Clummworth
rumbled from behind.
Clummworth had come from
the
had, and he lived a few doors down.
same high school
He was one
that
Haggart
of the jocks
who had
given Haggart a hard time for "going with a Mex." Haggart had
to a fight.
ig-
No
one understood why he didn't challenge Clummworth Just as no one had understood why he had to drop out of
nored him.
athletics.
Really Weird Stories
The Word "Random," Deliberately Repeated
John Shirley
Clummworth's presence made Haggart think of Maria
wondered
again,
and he
he'd broken up with her for her sake as he'd claimed.
if
Haggart's thoughts were jerked back to the present by
Clummworth
snatching at his arm.
"Whatcha doing?" Clummworth, asked a monumental
witticism. "Picking
Haggart gave him a cold
"Come
Cans and beer
"Make was
and
bottles
tightening grasp.
though he were building up to
for the sanitation department?"
He
"Whatya gonna do with that
persisted.
sticks
a mobile," Haggart
closer to the truth.
as
litter
stare.
Clummworth
on,"
up
shit?
and stuff—"
lied.
"Or a
shook
The buUetheaded
his
That
sculpture or something."
arm
Clummworth's
loose from
jock laughed.
"A copy of the Venus de Milo?" Haggart turned
back on him and walked to
his
not to drop anything.
The
walls
went
into
heavily
on
his eyes
It
was a
studio:
bedroom,
were bare but the floor was a
litter
apartment, careful
kitchenette,
bathroom.
of books and papers.
the bedroom, dropped the things he
the bed.
his
and
carried,
sat
He expelled a great gust of air and lay back,
He
down
covering
with his arms.
Maria had been
like
the desert, simple but potent. She had
little
edu-
understood what he meant when he said it simply. He memories of her out of his head. He stood and stretched, felt young muscles complain with the need for exercise. With a last, puzzled glance at the odd array of artifacts on the floor he grabbed his swimming suit and towel and walked swiftly out of the building and four
cation, but always tried to shake
blocks to the Forty-five
YMCA.
minutes
later,
exhilarated by a brisk swim, he sat at the edge
of the pool, staring at chlorinated ripples.
The
mers came to him across the water, vibrating shouted in
his
He He
loud as
slightly, as
if
they
YOU SPLASH ME AGAIN BOY
ear-IF
Haggart looked up. ter.
shouts of other swim-
A random splash covered Haggart's face with wa-
A mask of water. Something tugged at the edge of his understanding. got up, walked carefully over the slick wet
when it came he and splashing water. Randomly splashing
waited his turn, but
library
tile
hesitated,
to the diving board. still
water.
thinking of the
Someone
yelled
in his ear:
"Hey,
let's
go!
You
waiting for the board to dive off of
Starded, Haggart ran out sloppily
on
on the board and jumped, coming down up in poor form. He might hit with his face. The first part of the dive had
the end and springing out and
the water wrong, and slap
Really Weird Stories
it
your
73
74
John Shirley
The Word "Random," Deliberately Repeated been clumsy. But
at the last
moment he snapped
his legs straight
and
arched his back, cutting the surface cleanly.
came
It
to
He
bubbles.
him underwater,
as
he was yet a knife sheathed
in frothing
had started awkwardly, diving askew, righted himself—mak-
ing purpose out of aimlessness.
He
A
surfaced quickly and
half-hour later Haggart
up the books
He
He
stairs.
aside.
laughed
What at that.
to the side.
came back
to his apartment, aknost
running
unlocked the door and entered hurriedly, kicking the
He
hell,
he thought They're
just
random
rectangles.
thought of the term paper abandoned
and of the overwhelming
last
night
feeling of purposelessness that possessed
whenever he entered the thought.
swam
college. I'm
Where purpose comes from.
going to find out what
him
it is,
he
be wearing nothing but a mask
I'll
of clean water.
He went to
the things he'd
Four or
tory.
left
some
five sticks,
on the bedroom
and took inven-
floor
string, pipecleaners,
some cardboard,
sandpaper, a fingernail clipper, a tin can, a small block of wood, two
He went to the bathroom to get tissue, came He put the tissue in an open can after
beer bottles and a spoon.
back tearing
into small strips.
it
winding sandpaper around the can, and hair.
He put the sticks in the beer bottles
protectively.
to that,
like
to support
two
He hung a string from the
ceiling light, attached pipecleaners
the string and a length of steel
from the cup.
in them.
wool
He hung a styrofoam
that
hung down
like
cup from
Spanish moss
He was putting things together at random, but thinking all
the time of the desert
was
and used them
out
spill
that arched over the other things
a small gate of
and wound up a spoon
somehow
paper ribbons
wood
make
others to
that
let
and the ragged, weather-carved
linked together. In a half-hour, he
at the
same time anachronism and
with the deliberate effort to randomness.
cliffs
that
were
had an anomalous shape affinity.
He had
He
was sweating
caught himself several
times making a recognizable symmetry with seemingly unrelated shapes.
Random. Got
He He
to
be random.
No
pattern.
finished, putting the bottlecaps in as a finishing touch.
back and closed
sat
shape he'd made. pressions:
He
his eyes:
felt his
A gate. A gate
of fuel and was spewing a
mind
Tried to forget having ever seen the blank,
opened
his eyes.
under a rocket (the cup) that had trail
of
smoke
(the
tail
Random just
of steel wool).
im-
run out
A paper-
fountain (the can with strips of tissue emerging) spilling over granite facing (sandpaper).
The
fingernail clippers that stretched
from the upper
Really Weird Stories
The Word "Random," Deliberately Repeated
John Shirley
edge of the sponge to paper below looked leap.
The beveled block with
car.
A
into
which someone dived
car passing under an arch
Maria died
Run
A
The
car
his eyes
feeling like
attention
like
a
by a waterfall that flowed into a pool
cliff
by a drunk under an arch of wind-shaped
had crashed
into the water,
impact before she could drovm. Maria masked
He shut
a jacknifing diver in mid-
in a car accident in a place like that.
off the side of a
desert stone.
like
the paper and the bottlecaps looked
an
and cried icy
was drawn
and she had died from
in water.
out:
made him look up again. His made by random twisted shapes; space between the objects in the random
hand on
his face
to the oudines
they seemed to delineate the
construct into the feamres of a face.
"Maria," he said.
"Thank you, Ronny," her calm voice said. "Thank you for the mirror." Her voice resonated with hollow reassurance. "I needed a mirror so badly in this place. Nothing here
Her
reflects.
I
couldn't see myself
." .
.
voice faded into the lines of jagged sticks and cups and blocks.
Random
lines.
A mirror.
Really Weird Stories
75
Voices
"Your parents are worried about you," the child psychiatrist told Jeremy.
"Do you know why?" "Yes," the
boy
said, "it's
because
hear voices."
I
"What do the voices say?" "They don't say anything." "Then how can you be hearing or bark?
I've
heard of
"No, they're not even voices.
"Then what
The boy leaned back in "You
like
They
just sort
of
hum
It's
only one, and
it's
not exactly a voice."
like?"
is it
toral certificates,
voices, Jeremy?
that."
the leather chair.
framed, on the wall.
He looked at the cryptic doc-
He
looked
at a
bowling trophy.
bowling?"
"Yes." "I
don't think of a doctor bowling."
"Well
I
do.
It
makes
me
I'm
feel like
just
doing what
my body
likes,
sometimes." "I
know what you mean by
"The voice, or whatever
The boy looked The boy
it.
Can you
try to
um
...
tell I
me what it's like?"
don't know."
considered; the miniature grandfather clock ticked.
hung beating the
window and seemed
air,
psychiatrist waited.
wall, so that
hand and
in
humit.
said.
At
last
the boy said,
"It's like
dark cold room, and somebody pulled back a curtain,
up on the
A
puzzled by a reflection in
looking at the glass, fooled and not fooled, then
went away. "Huh," the boy
The
Jeremy.
do."
Take your time."
mingbird came to the It
I
world globe. "Well,
at a
"Try to describe
it is,
that,
...
if
you're in a
just a little,
high
one ray of light came down and you put out your
the dark cold
room you could
feel that
warm
light
on your
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
Voices
how
hand, and
that feels."
"That sounds "It
like
a good
is. It is
a pleasant feeling.
feeling.
saying, 'Ray of Light,
You and Me.'
saying
It's
But
Ray of
at
.
.
.
one."
all.
feel
the feeling
It's like
Ray of Light.'
'Open and
not saying anything
either. It's
just
it's
Light,
A good
It's
Me.' But
No words.
It
it's
is
talking. It's
saying 'You
and Me,
not saying anything
doesn't talk in words."
The psychiatrist realized his heart was thudding loudly in his chest. feel this?" when do you hear "When when things are a certain way in me. I don't know how to "When .
.
.
say
.
.
"Is
Very
.
.
.
.
.
.
it
.
.
when .
.
.
.
The
just like receiving?
very empty except for
"Yes! Yes that's
want
.
psychiatrist
.
.
.
A feeling of nothing but receiving?
for receiving?"
it."
looked
at the clock.
"We
have some time
left.
Do you
to play Chinese Checkers?"
"Sure."
The
psychiatrist told Jeremy's parents there
was nothing wrong with
him. But he asked permission to speak to the boy on his birthday every year, "just to
to
do
keep an eye on
this for himself,
things," but
and not
Really Weird Stories
what he
for the boy.
didn't say was: he asked
77
The Last Ride
"See that
girl
in the last car?" Bixby asked. "She's ridden five times in a row."
Chad
"In a rowf'
blonde and of
on the
five rides
pretty, in
stared at the
girl.
She was about twenty, slim and
an exotic kind of way. Big Mediterranean
small side, something doll-like about her; looked too
on
the Hellcoaster—in a row.
"Or stoned.
Tell
"Maybe
you something—I think
I
eyes.
frail
Kind
to take
she's drunk."
saw her playing with
herself,
a couple of times, right before the Hellpit."
"Oh yeah
right."
Chad was
skeptical.
Bixby was a weedy
little
with a big unsatisfied horniness, and the dude had a rich fantasy
"Check her twenty-five,
Chad
out!
still
I
with
.
Chad waved goodbye, and went down
thought.
life.
my Mom's picking me up ." Bixby was his Mom. No wonder he never got laid,
gotta go,
lived
guy
.
the line of cars
taking tickets. It
was strange how you got used
He
the ground. the
amusement
to
working outdoors seven
stories off
looked out over the Central Texas countryside beyond park, burnished like
hammered
brass in the
sundown-
tinged light of early evening.
"Can I simply give you
all
my tickets in advance?" a dollsized voice asked.
Chad looked at her, his hand still extended for her ticket. The girl. She was offering him ten Hellcoaster tickets, all still linked together. She added, "I have no pockets in this skirt, I'm afraid I will lose the tickets ." She had a faint accent he couldn't quite place. An odd out there formality in her grammar. Her tone a little distant. As if in her head, she was still "out there". Her eyes were gray blue, picked out with only the .
.
faintest traces of blue
matching
skirt,
eyeshadow. She wore a blue leather jacket with a
and blue pumps, which she'd taken
"You're kind of into blue, say. Pretty
I
guess,"
Chad
off.
said, just for
something to
lame remark, he told himself.
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley
The Last Ride
am today,"
"I
looked up
He
at
him
took her
can handle "Yes.
It's
she said.
"Tomorrow I
gravely.
said,
"Ride as
hear you already went
it. I
be dayglow yellow." She
it'll
Something smoldering
and
tickets
think
many
.
.
.
times as you want,
if
you
five."
There's a god on the roller coaster." She smiled from a
easy.
long ways away.
moment he
For a
thought he saw something glimmering around her
head; a kind of faint aurora. Trick of the sunset
"A god? Yeah? What's he look She frowned, and
"He
it
was
perhaps what you'd
is
like?"
as
if
call
light,
he supposed.
Hoping he would
fit
He said,
the description.
she were frovming in another language.
a
satyr.
A satyr with wings and a huge
.
.
and huge shoulders." "Oh." Chad didn't fit the description. He was tall and slim, with long brovm hair that his guitar player was always trying to get him to dye. His band. The Strokers, needed some on-stage glamour, the dude said. "And the god on the roller coaster rides with me," she added dreamily,
"and he protects about
.
.
."
me and
.
.
It
was once the Oasis of Fun's most popular ride-
being one of the biggest
ters
of the
it
had
lost
Wet Fury
roller coasters in the
ground
to the waterslides
section of the
"Come onnnnnnn^' some girl.
me what the roller coaster is really all
She looked out along the swoops and loops and wicked dips
of the Hellcoaster.
States—but
shows
.
"Ask her for a date and
amusement
Southwestern United
and
artificial
white wa-
park.
letterman jock said, two cars up from the
let's
get this ride
goinr
Chad felt his face go hot. He stalked over to the lever, and pulled it. The jock's jaws clacked shut with painful force as the cars lurched into sudden acceleration. The girl licked her lips and spread her legs as she rushed by Chad.
And
then they'd plunged out of sight, the riders scream-
ing and the 'coaster roaring like a steel giant.
When
the ride was over, there was almost
next one. Just a the
last.
"Hey,"
fat,
drunk Mexican
Chad
said,
no one
else to
guy, in the first car,
walking over to her between
go on the
and the rides.
girl,
in
"Uh-"
know my name, I think?" I-" name's Chad "Um-my shaken. "Yeah," he said, a little Just then Bixby came up the stairs, pimply face made even grottier by a deep scowl. "My Mom wants me to move out," he said. "She's, like, "Selinda," she said.
"You wanted
to
.
kickin'
car
me
out.
We
had a big
fight in the parking lot
and
I
.
.
got out of the
and she—"
"Hey Bix—would you run "Uh-" Really Weird Stories
the machine once or twice for me?"
79
8o
John Shirley
The Last Ride Chad turned
"Thanks."
"Get
in,"
to the
she said, anticipating
girl. "I
him
was thinking—"
again.
He
Okay, he thought, so I'm predictable.
got into the car next to her,
down to hold them in place. Muttering, The sun went down—just like that. Darkness fell as
pulled the rubber sheathed bar
Bixby threw the
lever.
they plunged into the Hellpit.
on it, Chad wasn't sure quite how it happened. He wasn't expecting it. Not just a few minutes after he met her. He supposed it was the steepest plunge, the Deathpit, that pushed them Afterwards, thinking back
in
one another's arms.
wind
in his hair
coaster
had changed
different, riding
ond time around,
somehow
.
wasn't
It
tween her
.
it
they plunged into the
was
last
much
It
arms around
and she came
her,
since the
now.
girls.
Especially
band
lost its
And he
Daffy Duck.
as
when
They were
first
since
of
all,
one-
Borden
lizzie
Dody
left
.
.
him—
gigs.
No
damn about consequences
the Hellcoaster, they pulled out
lights
Chad
all
the stops.
of the amusement park glowed against the lit
up by
And though
drugs.
drugged as Selinda pushed the bar aside
felt
his lap, facing just
is,
she put her hand in his pants.
he'd taken nothing,
onto
laid,
do
pretty girl that'll
Or maybe
a hot
night in lurid colors, like a nervous system
slid
be-
Be-
caring.
drummer, meaning they couldn't get
just didn't give
was dark out, and the
and
and neither one
car,
head warned him, even then. Any
in his
The second time around It
and
to him,
to the climb that reached for the
But he'd been two months without being
right
more
long, jarring, shuddery kiss, their teeth clacking to-
and second, loony
no
.
to kissing at the Plateau, the long stretch that takes
and then out again
kind of thing—gratis— five minutes after meeting you
gigs,
.
as kissed her.
was a
Something
and
.
big dive before the sec-
somehow. It was her. she'd taken his hand, and put it Under the skirt. No underwear. Wet, hot, and sticky.
into the dock,
of-a-kind;
seemed
It just
they were leaping into a bottomless well
like
his
gether at times with the rollicking of the
this
it.
roller
legs.
They got around Helldip.
been on
the
it,
.
fore he'd so
you
down into somehow the
going
feeling,
inertia in his gut, that
since the last time he'd
So he flung
together.
had a strange
with her. Higher and deeper and faster and
And when
personal.
He
and the
him, and opened her blouse
climbing the
first
peak, before the
.
first
.
.
Helldip, the
Roller Coaster laboring up, up, clickaclacka clickaclacka, as
nating before the big plunge, and they had a few
moments
if
procrasti-
to get things
Really Weird Stories
The Last Ride
John Shirley His pants unzipped, cock
in position.
and
free
rigid as the steel rails of
the Hellcoaster; Selinda straddling him, grinding against him. Then, just as they reached the top, lifting her
on
vagina dow^n hard
little
round
ass
up and
Both of them shuddering
his cock.
driving her
at the rich heat
of that probing—just as the roller coaster cars shuddered, poised,
top of the peak
down
plunged
Thunder
.
.
And
.
the
her hips again— and the cars
lifted
into the Helldip. Simultaneous with his plunge into her.
in his ears;
with joy and
then Selinda
on
Wind
fear.
of his cock, his
balls,
breasts dappled
amusement park
thunder in
all
Both of them screaming
his senses.
streaming around them; cold wind on the base
the crack of his
ass;
her small firm, pertly uplifted
and streaked with the clownish, racing .
.
lights
of the
.
Chad was dimly aware
that, after the first
the Hellcoaster to other riders, put up the ing tested for defects, and
them go
let
it
two
little
alone.
rides,
Bixby had closed
sign that said
it
was
be-
So that he could watch
down and bought a cheap telescope at one of and Chad had glimpses of the light flashing off the
them, of course. He'd run the souvenir stands,
'scope's lens as Bixby
little
watched them
There's an art to fucking
on
fuck.
Who cared? Chad didn't.
a roller coaster, they discovered.
You had
to brace yourself a certain way, with reference to the direction of the G-
going downhill; going uphill you had to brace another way. Going
pull,
uphill, in fact,
And he
she had to do the hip-pumping; downhill, he had to do
thought he
ing him,
its
felt
the
god she'd
it.
talked about helping him, possess-
spiritual strength manifested in the gravitational
and
inertial
them as they rode the peaks and The god taking her in his strong arms, fucking her as they plunged into the bottomless well. She came at least twice. And he never quite came himself. Or anyway, never quite ejaculated. valleys of the
energies wrenching Hellcoaster.
Not yet. Not 'til the sixth time around. The first five times delight was mingled with
fear.
The knowledge
that
the restraining bar wasn't in place, and she was half standing, and he was half out of the car himself,
humping
into her, legs straining against iner-
and the shock of wrenching turns. Stomach wrenching with the eager strain, feeling his insides wracked by the conflict between his as all dangerous was this that Knowing gravity. fucking and the pull of flying go could they time, Hell. They could lose their hold at the same
tia
out of the cars together, to their It
way
fall
seven stories, locked at the groin, fucking
to death.
was both
terrifying
and
peaks of arousal-and yet seemed to constrict
Really Weird Stories
him to unspeakable semen in his testicles.
exhilarating. It drove his
8i
82
John Shirley
The Last Ride As
should he ejaculate, the act would cause him to be ejaculated from
if,
the car— he and Selinda shot like
But
on
finally,
orgasm. She
coming— saw back— and opened her
felt it
arching of his
it
into the sky.
in the
accumulated force of the four
it
widening of his
legs
wider to take
thundered agreement.
as the rollercoaster
like
semen
the plateau, the fourth time around,
He
happened. His
eyes, the it.
sudden
She screamed
shot into her with
rides, all that falling
and rushing
the
all
built
up
a tightened spring, a taut coil released in that orgasm.
Afterwards, he
He
he was going to throw up.
felt like
signaled Bixby frantically,
Chad
dock.
lay
and the
cars
ground
to a halt at the
back gasping, gagging, shivering with sweat, as she
calmly climbed off
him and stepped onto the dock, brushing herself off,
buttoning her blouse— facing away from Bixby— and putting on her shoes. "I'd better find
the lady's room," she said, with great dignity, and walked
off toward the stairs. Unruffled—but walking sort of
By
contrast,
it
was with great
effort that
stiffly.
Chad managed
to put his
man-
zip them up. He felt like he'd been through a car The kind where your car rolls over five times before coming to a stop.
hood back in his pants and wreck.
He
tasted blood.
His lower
was
lip
split.
His upper
lip
was
bruised. His
cheeks were bruised. His hips were bruised. His pubis. His stomach was flailing
about in
"Wow!" Bixby was a
girl!
be
He lay back gasping in the ridecar.
his gut.
saying.
Hey, you think she'd
better,
more my
style,
."
"Jesus Christ
.
.
"We oughta be selling tickets for this! What me, uh—Well, maybe the Ferris Wheel'd
let
but—"
She? She. She!
Chad
Where was shef Grimacing with pain, he and went unsteadily dowm the stairs. Forced him-
sat bolt upright.
climbed from the car self to take
No way
them
three at a time. "Selinda!"
was he going
rassed her, he guessed,
to lose her
now. The whole thing had embar-
now that whatever it was had worn
off,
and
now
she was going to vanish, never see him again.
At the bottom of the
stairs
crowd parading down the giggles.
He
No
he stood staring into the Saturday night smiles
and balloons and beery
into the crowd, cursing
and bellowing her name.
fairway,
all
sight of her. "Selinda!"
shoved
his
way
Spent half an hour
at that,
before he was ready to
fall
running through the park looking for her,
from exhaustion.
He
found himself leaning
dog stand, muttering, "Seven-Up. Seven-Up." They gave him one, he found a little change that hadn't been shaken from his pockets on the ride, and was listlessly sucking soda when he
against a hot
Really Weird Stories
The Last Ride
John Shirley heard
it.
The
dollsized voice. Saying,
"How about if we
try
on
it
the
Tilt-
a-Whirl next?"
He
turned, and grabbed her, clasped her to him.
away from him. "One moment!" she stiffness
He
That's
were
"We
with the language again.
gaped
was
it
actually
hardly
Jaw hanging halfway
at her.
what
protested.
like.
doing
it.
She kept him
And
she pushed
That odd accent, that
know each
other!"
to his shoes.
distance—except
at a
And she wasn't interested in beds. No
motels, not even sleeping bags.
had
It
when
they
apartments,
to be riding—or, anyway,
it
had
to
be dangerous.
She wouldn't
on
tell
him a damn thing about herself, either. They went once a week at the Oasis of Fun, and other
for five weeks, meeting
peculiar trysting junctions,
and he never so much
name. She was able to see him
He
thirty.
between seven and eleven-
never saw her consult a watch—but she always seemed to
know what "It is
exclusively
as learned her last
time
almost
it
was. She'd look at the
tirne for
me
to
go
most women. Most of them, life to be founded on a deep
.
."
.
or sniff the
stars,
air.
And
say:
She was the absolute opposite of
quite understandably, preferred their sex
Mutual knowledge. Conver-
relationship.
Meeting parents. Quiet dinners, noisy concerts, dancing. Hours talking in bed, comparing notes on life. It was what Chad wanted himsation.
self,
deep down.
Not Selinda. She was with
its
inside-out.
She seemed to regard ordinary dating,
involved conversations, as a kind of obscene intimacy-and quick
on the longest park waterslide was the decent way to relate. Could be, he thought, that conversation with her would be redun-
sex
dant-because she always seems to
know what
I'm about to say
.
.
.
Seemed to be able to see right into him She was quite opaque to him, though. Couldn't see into her at all, beyond the passion. Oh, he knew she was using him, in some way. And he knew she had to be crazy, and that this was a dangerous game. They'd been caught twice; he'd used up all his favors in the park getting them .
out of
it.
And
there
was something
.
incredibly lunatic in her eyes some-
times. Especially the first time they did
Going down the old highway
.
it
outside the park
at ninety-five miles
.
.
.
an hour.
Chances old cracked concrete road was scarcely used anymore. an were they'd be the only ones killed in the accident. But the odds for "FASTER! screamed, she as accident were brutally mounting
The
MORE
SPEEOr Not
talking about
Really Weird Stories
hip-pumping speed.
83
84
John Shirley
The Last Ride
They were both buck naked in the car. The seat vinyl sucking at his buttocks. She was straddling him as he drove his rickety old '71 Impala, straining it's tired horsepower to get past ninety. It was eleven at night, with a
full
moon
glowing over the desert, no sign of
eyes for a
moment
caught
the headlights,
fire in
incandescent secret with Selinda before
Chad had one arm around little
ninety
it
was a
seemed
some
to share
trotted into night.
it
work
onto
the steering wheel; he was leaning
and the
to the right, trying, to see past her
windshield. Lucky
whose
up ahead,
Selinda's waist, shoving her dovsoi
him, the other free so he could a
no one
civilization,
watching— except the coyote dashing across the road
dusty, bug-flecked
They'd
straight road, for a while.
just hit
and she screamed "FASTERRRRR!" Digging her immaculately
manicured golden
nails into his shoulders,
looked up into her face and saw
She was pushing out the
limits,
wanted them both
death. She
it
him on. And he
urging
in her eyes: Death.
pushing the border between
life
to die, doing this. Crazy as Daffy
Crazy as Lizzie Borden.^ Hell, she was crazy as Jimmy Swaggart,
and
Duck?
Tammy
Faye Bakker, Jim Bakker, and for that matter, Jim Jones, rock and rolled into one.
But Chad couldn't stop. The
car's
2500 pound, ninety mile an hour
momentum was his momentum too—it was his
sexual, emotional
tum, carrying him beyond the reach of loneliness. as
if
the car were expressing
92, 94, 95
.
.
.
its
own terror as
and she rutted harder and
The
car's tires
momen-
screeched
the speedometer climbed to
faster
on him, her
eyes rolling
back in her head, her tongue emerging from between her trembling lips, glistening pink tip reaching for his lips ... 96, 98,
There was a curve coming up. yelled.
"We've gotta
let
"No!" she shouted
A ways
yet,
.
.
.
but coming. "A curve!" he
up!"
in his ear, clutching
sticky breasts nosing his neck.
Come or we die! He knew he should
100
its
him
against her.
"No! Not until you give
it
to
Her
sweat-
mer Mean-
ing:
sible, stupid,
and
have flung her off right there. This was irrespon-
futile.
How could he even keep his hard-on this way, let
alone ejaculate? With the curve rushing up toward them... But something,
maybe masculine
live for this
pride, kept
him pumping
into her.
You got
to
second, he told himself. This very second. Take the risk and
come because
of
it!
They'd never make
it
around that curve
But he kept pumping into her—like the in the engine's cylinders—even
at this
speed
.
.
.
car's pistons furiously
when he saw the boulders
pumping
at the curve
.
.
Really Weird Stories
The Last Ride
John Shirley His radio worked sometimes, and sometimes
didn't.
it
There was a
when it chose to come on—suddenly it started blasting AC/DC's Highway To Hell, the solo screaming into its own collision course. And it pushed him over the edge. Laughing hysteristrange synchronicity about
he shot
cally,
his ejaculate into her. Just as they hit the curve.
His hand jerked spasmodically on the steering wheel, an involuntary
motion twitched out of him by the orgasm, and car careened, missing the heap of boulders
the desert, where
it
struck a
at the last
second the
and veering instead out
dune and jumped— like a stunt car
at
into
an exhi-
ramp—whistling through the air, the wheels five feet over the ground, as he pumped out the last of his semen into her Believing for one lunatic moment that the act of his ejaculation had somehow shot the car into the air And then WHUMP, they came dovm in a patch of cactus. Bounced
bition
jumping from a
.
.
around inside the car
like dice in
up through one of his the car
bumped
a gambler's hand.
He
watched numbly
and checked
herself over.
back from the steering wheel and a
"I
think
A nasty shiver of pain
his
nose crunch
.
.
and
.
to a stop. Steaming.
car's interior light
in her lip.
"Are you quite
.
something made
testicles;
Selinda climbed off him.
from a cut
.
.
all
That was
it.
bump on Almost
as
as she switched
One
on the
big bruise across her
her head and a
little
blood
an afterthought, she
said,
right?"
my nose
is
broken."
"You do not seem badly
hurt."
She glanced
at the sky. "Ah!
I
had
better
get dressed. I'm going to be late!"
He
stared at her in dull amazement. Finally, wiping blood off his
mouth, asked, "Late for what?" She wagged a finger
know
him
each other so well as that
She'd almost got them
was no doubt about
He
at
it.
killed.
And
had a nightmare about
and put
his bruised
ing love
on
reproachfully. "Foolish boy!
don't
yet!"
They'd escaped death by a whisker. There
there
it,
We
that
bones wearily
was no doubt
same
that she
night, after
in bed. In the
a tiny platform atop a flagpole.
he
was a psycho.
finally
got
home
dream, they were mak-
Which was atop
the Empire
State Building. Standing up there nude, balancing carefully, fucking, taking her from behind this time, as people on the observation deck below
cheered and waved and laughed. harder!" His legs
balance!
We'U
shook with
faU!"
Really Weird Stories
fear
And
Selinda shouted, "Harder!
and he
Do
yelled, "I can't! We'll lose
it
our
85
86
John Shirley
The Last Ride Seeing, in the sky, the
winged
hovering, toying
satyr, fluttering there,
with his erect, godsized member, and laughing at them. His lean,
sar-
donic, face etched out of dark leather.
"Selinda this'd be a ridiculous
away from the her. "If
"Do
I
do
it!"
it
satyr.
it.
Chad
to die!"
Struggling to keep his balance as he
He
couldn't
let
"Do
it
or
I
He
pumped
into
jump!"
will
He
her jump.
loved her.
And they lost their balance and went tumbling, end wildly the
shouted, looking
harder-"
she screamed at him.
So he did
way
over end, screwing
whole time, until— bed, slick with sweat.
sat bolt upright in his
"It's
got to end," he
told himself. Staring into the darkness. "For sure."
when
But
she called him, a
week
Southerton Airport," his cock leapt
he said
The
.
.
later,
like
and
said,
"Meet
me
at the
a hungry wolf in his pants and
.
plane's pilot
knew something weird was going
on.
He
was a
middle aged black guy, had the hardnosed, hard-drinking look of a
Vietnam
vet about him. She'd probably picked
kind of guy
So long
as
who
him because he was the
didn't give a flying fuck, so to speak,
how weird it got.
he was paid.
So he didn't react when Selinda told Chad, "Put your manhood
me
in
almost immediately, as soon as you can, otherwise we'll not
achieve congress."
Achieve congress^
And under
the lead
"Uh—if you say so." Chad felt made out of lead. was magma: Under the heaviness was anger. He'd
spent an hour before the flight trying to talk her into coming clean
with him. Begging her to
tell
him about
herself.
To
talk
about
this
.
.
.
thing they did together. But she just smiled vacantly, and shook her
head
gently,
And now
and
earth of Texas. prised him. "It
too
.
.
The
."
said,
"Take
me
or leave
me
as
I
am."
they were about two thousand feet over the packed sandy It is
was
their first
meeting in daylight, and that had
sur-
murmured. "But
that
a risk, meeting at this hour," she
She shrugged.
little
Cessna bucking,
murky with dust
in the intermittent turbulence.
in the distance;
The
sky a bit
blue blurred with graybrovm. Only a
few clouds scribbled long and bluegray against the horizon. And Chad
was
thinking. What's important in
always believed?
worth
it? Is
lifef
You going
to live the
Or not? If those are her terms—ask yourself
anybody? Probably
not.
But
living
way you
pal: Is she
with the volume knob on
Really Weird Stories
John Shirley the
amp
The Last Ride
turned up
Well, here
was
.
.
That was worth
.
So he made himself stop head, strapped
him
it.
Hope
I
die before
I
get old?
his chance.
on
thinking.
the parachute,
He
taped the
Walkman onto
his
went through the routine they'd taught
in the skydiving classes— make that "class," exactly
one— and he
open door. She didn't ask. She took his hand and him out with her The first time he'd jumped—the only other time—he'd nearly pissed his
joined her at the pulled
.
.
.
pants in terror, going out the door. This time he was slapped in the face by a
wave of
unreality.
He was
being suspended, hung
Wind roared
tunnel.
whipping
at
like
like
a
whirling; the clouds
then he
felt
Looked
passed.
god—like
him, snatching at his
and mouth. His stomach
And
falling,
on
but
didn't feel like falling;
it
some
a mobile from
felt like
up
drying the moisture from his eyes against his diaphragm.
The world
the horizon snaking past as he turned in the
her grip
on
into her eyes.
his
a wind
the winged satyr of the roller coaster-
hair,
flattened
it
invisible ceiling—in
air
.
.
arm, and some of the disorientation
Reached up automatically
button on his Walkman. Rock'n'roll thunder in
to hit the play
freefall.
The world was spinning at 45 RPM, and the breath was wrenched from him and despair and delight married in him and went on a perverse honeymoon, and he shouted, "Sellliiiinnnnda!" She pulled herself hand over hand—up his arm. Coming at him like a panther. /'// never he able to get hard in this scene! he thought desperately. And then: what the hell kind of thing is that to worry about, man! You dont jump right, you
re
going to
Accept
it.
Or
die! this is all for nothing.
So he dragged her to him and she locked her trifugal force
used
all
and
legs
a jealous air pressure tried to pull
his strength, every muscle,
denly they shared one center of
by the pressure and
inertia,
around him. Cen-
them
apart, but
he
and dragged her close, closer, till sudand they were sucked together
gravity,
almost crushing one another
.
.
.
Don't throw up.
He
swallowed hard, and reined in
fluttering belly,
and
pressed against him.
his racing heart,
tried to concentrate
Her
skirt
vibrating her blouse's collar
and quieted
on the warmth
hiked up around her hips now.
whipping her
hair.
his
where she was
The wind
Kissing her, though the
wind blew the saliva away, made their mouths like dry sponges on one another. The ground spinning. The wind roaring and the music thundering in his ears ... an old song from Iggy and the Stooges. "Loose." Iggy bawling, / stick it/deep-inside/l stick
Really Weird Stories
it
deep inside- cause I'm loose!
87
John Shirley
The Last Ride So was Chad. Set loose. Surrendered. Thinking: Fuck anyway. And
evitable
was able
hard, so he
Death
it.
to wriggle into her. Probing.
Hiding
is in-
made him
the surrender surged into his cock,
in that inner
world. Pumping. Short shallow pumps, but hard. Freefalling. Grinding
out that sweet internal recognition.
"You must come!" She shouted suddenly. "The orgasm! Now!
must
he shouted
"I can't!"
the wind. "Not yet!"
long way
in her ear,
He was
not sure
working
his
if
she could hear him over
way
there, but
it
was
a
still
off.
The ground swinging at them like a mallet. when he lost his grip on her—some errant wind them, prying them apart. One second she was there—the next,
"Do
it!"
"I'm
.
.
.
jerking at
there
We
pull the cords!"
she shouted.
trying!" That's
was the sound of canvas snapping—
And he had
He
her parachute in his hands,
screamed and
flailed,
still
in
its
pack.
spinning, looking for her, the
gone, torn away, too, the wind sucking
Walkman
sound from him. His head
all
throbbing in time with the sobbing thud of his heart.
There she was: about
He
thirty feet away.
tried to
remember how
way over to her, but she seemed to drift farther from him. on her face. As if she were concentrating Calling
plane his
strange look calling
.
.
.
silently
.
.
.
.
to
A .
.
out to something.
A smell of leather. A deep, inhumanly-masculine laughter. And then he was
there. Leather
legs
hard with muscle. His eternally hard
wings spread wide to block the sun; furry chest and
member wagging
with his
wingstrokes. His goat's feet dangling like the strange irrelevancies they
were up
here.
Sardonic face etched in dark leather. Bottomless eyes.
He
swept past Chad
down on onto
his back,
around
his
rally-stiff
and swooped Then heaved her
effortiess as a stingray in the sea
Selinda, caught her adoringly in his arms.
where she hung between
his wings,
her legs locked
waist— and her feet clamped on either side of his supernatu-
member. She pushed
to the right. Obediently.
it
to the right with her feet—and he flew
They went laughing away,
flying across the
desert toward a distant butte. Selinda riding him; directing her mount.
And Chad
heard
it
in his
Knew
head, then.
that she could talk to this
creature, but not with words, with the psychic talent that
been /
hers.
am
awhile,
Some
of
sorry
I left,
and
don't
I
it
leaking to
Chad
she told the god.
know how
.
/
.
had always
.
wanted
to explain
to play with
them
for
why.
Really Weird Stories
The Last Ride
John Shirley /
understand, the winged satyr answered her.
can die and we cant.
And
then
Chad
It's
lost
so seductive
them,
.
.
tried to tell himself
horror of seeing her
body
in the desert.
fall
No
it
their mortality.
Chad was
had been a hallucination brought on by the
without her chute. But no one ever found her
one
fitting
got something out of
his
demo
for the record
"The Last Ride." And
it
Really Weird Stories
He
his ripcord.
her description ever turned up missing.
Probably because she'd never entirely been in the world in the
It
They
a radio station going out of range.
like
pushed her parachute away from him. Pulled
Chad
It's
.
went
it.
He wrote
a song.
company and
first
place.
You must've heard
his first big hit. It
was
it.
called
to the top of the charts with a bullet.
ReaUy, ReaUy,
AVeird
STORIES
.
.
.
And the Angel
WITH Television Eyes
On
a gray morning, April
perched on the right-hand post
Max watched
to
find
at the foot of his antique four-poster bed.
of shining metal—began to preen It
at first that
in his
breathing griffin
a living,
with sleep-fuzzed pleasure as the griffin— a
beak of polished cadmium.
Max assumed
Max Whitman woke
the year 2020,
ii,
midtown Manhattan apartment
its
griffin
mirror-bright feathers with a
creaked a
he was
as
little
still
made
hooked
moved.
it
dreaming; he'd had a series of
oddly related technicolor-vivid dreams recently. Apparently one of these dreams had spilled over onto his waking
the griffin from a
dream of the night
reality.
previous.
It
He remembered
had been a dream
brisding with sharp contrasts: of hard-edged shafts of white light—
warms—breaking through clouds the color of suicidal melancholy. And weaving in and out of those shafts of light, the griffin came flying toward him ablaze with silvery glints. And then the clouds never
light that
coming
Red
together, closing out the light,
rain.
Thick, glutinous rain.
A rain
and
letting
go sheets of
of blood. Blood running
rain.
down
the sheer wall of a high-towered, gargoyle-smdded castle carved of
transparent glass. Supported by nothing at
and steady
as
Mount
all:
a crystalline castle
Everest, hanging in mid-air.
the sky-castle was a flying
army of wretched
And
still
laying siege to
things led by a
man with
a
barbed-wire headJust a
bad dream.
Now, Max gazed at the griffin and shivered, hoping the rest of the dream wouldn't come along with the griffin. He hadn't liked the rain of blood
Max
at
all.
blinked, expecting the griffin to vanish.
Fulsome. Something hungry
.
.
It
remained, gleaming.
.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley The
.
Max
griffin noticed
.
And the Angel with Television Eyes
.
watching.
It
straightened, fluttered
morning
meter wingspread, wingtips flashing
in
through the broad picture window, and
said, "Well,
me?"
had a strangely musical, male
It
"Whuh?" But
it
"I
said
looked so solid
soft.
heard and "Look,
You
and he could hear
.
.
Who
didn't—"
her
is
sat
it
little
on
it
But
yet.
I
me?" and
sat up.
high.
It
gripped the bedpost with
haunches, and
its
on its
its
lion's
forepaws—from
pin-feathered knees.
from a machine-shop. The Its
griffin
The
had a
feathered chest rose
fell.
"Machine?" The tufted lion's
"Ah."
griffin's
swished.
tail
circuitry.
presume to
But
I
Max
." .
."
.
Max murmured.
opalescent eyes glittered warningly.
Its
wire-
my semblance is all alloys and plastics you I am not an example of what you people
"It's
assure
felt
cold,
true
and pulled the bedclothes up to cover
Dont make it Good Lord, no."
"Sorry."
snorted. "Sandra! .
.
call 'artificial intelligence.'"
pimpled shoulders.
"I
call
He yawned
head, but an eagle's beak replaced a muzzle.
"A machine that breathes
It
claws rasping the bedpost.
must admit. You're a marvel of engineering.
I
pinfeathers looked like sweepings
and
a holograph?
was too loud, and then
cuteness."
a lion of some polished argent alloy—rested
and
it
got the hang of mindsending
was about a meter
metallic eagle's claws;
lion's
what do you want of
stopped, and smiled. "Sandra. Sandra Klein in
"She outdid herself with you, griffin
its
"It
you and why did you
are
He
Special Effects, right? This
Damn." The
went on.
the griffin
really haven't
came.
I
I
.
call,"
two-
its
slanting
light
voice.
Max blearily. "Me? Want with youT Was
heard your
was too
the
Max's throat was
dry. "I
he'd taken a drug that couldn't
saw you
make up
his goose-
mad. "Sandra didn't send you?"
in a
its
dream."
mind
if it
He felt odd.
Like
were a
tranquilizer
head
attentively.
or a psychedelic.
"You saw
"Who "Oh
else
me
was
in a
in this
dream?" The
griffin
cocked
its
dream?"
there were-things,
A rain
of blood.
A
casde that was there and
wasn't there. A man-it looked like he was made of ... of hot metal. And Well, his head was all of wire. I had a series of dreams that were .
.
.
things like that." "If
you dreamed those
act as
if
my coming here is ordained. You know why I'm here." It blinked, tiny metal
things,
you honestly don't
then
shutters closing with a faint dink. "But you're not
much surprised by me.
Most humans would have run shrieking from the room by now. You cept me."
Really, Really,
Weird
Stories
ac-
93
94
•
•
Max shrugged. said
it
was—ordained?" I
can
you
tell
that
I
am
and
Flare,
I
a Conservative Protectionist, a High Functionary Ln the Fiefdom of
am
Lord
You
And you—if you're human—must be wild talent. At least. mindsend in your sleep, unknown to your conscious
Viridian.
transmitted the
mind.
I
should have guessed from the confused
Such things are outside the realm of
my
You people keep food
thing to eat.
be through that hallway
The
Well well well.
You might be one of
First, I've
in 'the kitchen,'
I
got to have some-
That would
think.
." .
.
of shining metal fluttered from the bedpost, alighted
griffin
and hopped
floor with a light clattering,
Max
signal.
expertise.
the Concealed. We'll see, at the meeting.
got out of bed, thinking: He's
ented. But I'm not.
I
he'd taken
on
the
into the kitchen, out of sight.
right.
should be at least
I
disori-
have been expecting him.
dreams
Especially since the
ter
me why you're here. You
"Maybe. But you haven't told
''Planned might be a better word,
ter
John Shirley
And the Angel with Television Eyes
on the
himself— there'd been
And the dreams began a week afRed Mark. He'd named the charac-
started.
role of Prince last
moment
misgivings about the original
name chosen by the scripters, and he'd blurted, "How about 'Prince Red Mark'?" And the producer went for it, one of the whims that shape show business. Four tapings for the first two episodes, and then the dreams commenced. Sometimes he'd dream he was Prince Red Mark; other times a flash of heat lightning; or a ripple of wind, a breeze that
could think and
blooms
.
.
awoke with about
feel,
And
.
swishing through unseeable gardens of invisible
then the dreams became darker,
his fists balled, his eyes wild,
griffins
and
rains of
blood and
fiercer,
so that he
sweat cold on his chin. Dreams
by wretched
sieges
things.
The
things that flew, the things with claws.
He'd played Prince Red Mark
for seven episodes
picked for his athletic build, his thick black
PR people
hair,
called "aristocratic detachment."
and
now. He'd been
his air of
Other people
what the
called
it ar-
rogance.
Max Whitman had When he played
role.
and simple
.
.
.
The
found, to his surprise, he hadn't had to act the Prince
Red Mark, he was Prince Red Mark. Pure would make fun of him, when they
set-hands
thought he couldn't hear, because he'd forget to step out of the character
between shootings. He'd swagger about the
pommel
set
with
his
hand on the
of his sword, emanating Royal Authority.
This morning he didn't
feel
much
like
and confused and mildly threatened.
Prince
He
Red Mark. He
felt
sleepy
stretched, then turned toward
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
.
.
And the Angel with Television Eyes
.
the kitchen, worried by certain sinister noises: claws
Wet, slapping sounds.
He
He
burst out,
"Damn,
hurried to the kitchen. "Hey-oh,
hell.
on
glass. Splashings.
my
got into
it
My
fish."
The
perched beside the ten-gallon aquarium on the breakfast palm-sized damsel-fish were gasping, dying
The
griffin fluttered to the floor,
with
its
tile
puddled with
"Was
Max
red.
"It's
my
nature.
I
Three
bar.
blue-tile floor.
fish neatly into sections
an eagle would have. The blue
just as
turned away, saddened but not really angry.
"Okay.
I
was hungry.
I
dead things
decided
the meeting.
it
And
their balcony
a message for you.''
we
And
after
didn't eat
you
.
if I
.
.
have to
eat. I
some considerNow, let's go to
862 Haven, apartment seventeen.
.
.
It
cocked
its
head
to
one
side as
if
for eating your fish. Apparently
of respect in their
level
I'll
meet you
wait. Wait. I'm getting a send. They're telling
.
me I must apologize
some unusual
And
we're bodied,
refrigerator.
don't say, 'What meeting?'"
lt's
tell
When
your
won't."
on
"They
in
would be best
"Just take a fast cab to
gize.
snipped the
was
griffin
that necessary?"
can't eat those
ation
them
beak, and gobbled
on the wet
aquarium!"
circle." It
bent
its
head.
they say you are to read a letter from 'Carstairs.'
me-
listening.
you have "I
It's
apolo-
been
in
your computer's mail sorter for two weeks under personal and you keep neglecting to retrieve griffin, fluttering its
doors opened for
it
it.
Read
as
it.
That's the send
hopped
wings, if slid
.
.
.
into the living
Well then
.
.
."
back by some ghostly hand.
It
went
to the
balcony, crouched, then sprang into the air and soared away.
thought he heard
shout something over
it
its
The
room. The French
He
shoulder at him: something
about Prince Red Mark.
The sun came and went. Max stood under the rain-shelter in the gridcab station on the roof of his apartment building. The grid was a webwork of metal slats and signal It
was a breezy morning,
feeling like spring.
contacts, braced by girders
and upheld by the buildings
that jutted
mountaintops through a
cloud-field.
through the finely woven net
like
Thousands of wedge-shaped cabs and private gridcars the grid in as Impatiently,
many
Max
signal stanchion.
once more thumbed the green
patched by the Uptown
bay under the
main
cab, cruising
area's traffic traffic
rain-shelter.
Really, Really,
along
different directions.
An empty
verishly interfacing
hummed
Weird Stories
call
button on the
by on automatic
computer;
it
swarm and arced
pilot,
was
dis-
detached from the
fe-
neatly into the pick-up
95
96
.
.
.
John Shirley
And the Angel with Television Eyes
Max The
climbed inside and inserted
Unicard into the cab's
his
"Where
to?"
Max
tapped
creditor.
bank account and asked,
small terminal's screen acknowledged his
his destination into the keyboard: the cab's
computer, through the data-feed contacts threaded into the grid, gave the destination to the main computer, which drove the cab from the bay
and out onto the
grid.
The computer kept
here and there were currents of
on the
track of every car
grid;
an individual cab might cut right
traffic;
through one of these without slowing, the computer calculating the available aperture in the traffic
flow to thousandths of a second. Acci-
dents were almost unknown.
You are to read a letter from Carstairs, the griffin had said. He'd met Carstairs at a convention of fantasy fans. Carstairs had hinted he was doing "some rather esoteric research" for Duke University's parapsychology lab. Carstairs
could
feel the
man
Max
had made
nervous—he
following him, watching him, wherever he went in
the convention hotel. So he'd deliberately ignored the message. But he
hadn't gotten around to deleting
As the cab flashed across the
it.
city,
weaving in and out of the peaks of
narrow parks that had taken the place of the Av-
skyscrapers, over the
Max punched a request to tie in with his home computer. The cab
enue,
charged his bank account again, tied him system to print out a copy of the letter,
focusing
first
on: "...
letter
when
I
and he asked
in,
from
Carstairs.
saw you
He
his records
scanned the
convention
at the
I
knew
Hidden Race had chosen to favor you. They were there, standing at invisible to you—invisible to me too, except in certain lights, ." when I concentrate and all my training on looking Max shivered, and thought: A maniac. But—the griffin had been real the
your elbow,
.
He
skipped ahead,
century, people
own
were
to:
"... You'll remember, perhaps, back in the
last
talking about a 'plasma-body' that existed within our
physiological bodies,
an independently organized but
skein of subatomic particles; this constituted, called soul. It occurred to in so cohesive a
.
some of us
that
if
it
this
interrelated
was supposed, the
plasma body could
form within an organism, and could
so-
exist
survive for transmi-
gration after the death of that organism, then perhaps a race of creatures, creatures
who seem
to us to
be
'bodiless,'
could exist alongside the em-
bodied creatures without humanity's knowing
Max. and
It
This race does
exist.
accounts for those well-documented cases of 'demonic' possession
poltergeists.
studying the years.
it.
And
for
much
in
Hidden Race—some
We kept our research
mythology. call
secTet for a
My
organization has been
them plasmagnomes—for
good reason
fifteen
." .
.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Max was
.
.
.
And the Angel with Television Eyes
distracted by a peculiar noise.
He
roof of the cab.
A
scratching
sound from the
glanced out the window, saw nothing, and
shrugged. Probably a news-sheet blown by the wind onto the car's roof.
He
looked again
plasmagnomes
"... for a good reason. Some of the
at the letter.
are hostile
.
.
The Hidden Race
.
of about ten thousand plasmagnomes,
sists
who
is
live
very orderly. for the
the world's 'barren' places. Such places are not barren to them.
of the plasmagnomes are a well-cared-for serf class, base plasma
and elaboration of
in
The bulk
consumed or
used in etheric constructions. The upper classes govern, study the
ous universes, and most of
con-
who labor in creating
packets of nonsentient energy to be
fields,
It
most part
vari-
concern themselves with the designing
all
their Ritual Pavanes.
But
this
monarchist hierarchy
is
factioned into two distinct opposition parties, the Protectionists and the Exploitationists: they gave us those terms as being the closest English
The
equivalent.
Protectionists are sanctioned
by the High Crown and
the Tetrarchy of Lords. But lately the Exploitationists have increased their
numbers, and they've become harder to police. They have gotten
out of hand.
And
centuries ago as 'Merlin'
members of
the
Max glanced
up
The it;
letter. ".
.
structive
slavery
would
.
The
and an Exploitationist
as 'Mordred,' certain
Hidden Race have taken bodied form among us sound from the
why
his heart
roof.
Louder this
was pounding.
Exploitationists maintain that
He
.
He tried to ignore
time.
looked doggedly at the
humanity
is
small-minded, de-
of the biosphere, too numerous, and in general suitable only for
and kill
knew my organization
as sustenance. If they
me
and
my
them
to affect us
fields
keep them
when at
dragons, sorcerers,
they're unbodied, because
a distance
fairies,
leaned back
studied them, they
associates. Till recently, the Protectionists have pre-
vented the opposition party from taking physical form.
Max
." .
again.
scratching
he wondered
walked the Earth
for the first time since a Protectionist
.
.
harpies,
in his seat
.
more
difficult for
Centuries ago, they appeared to us as
winged
horses, griffins-"
and slowly shook
took a deep breath. This could
It's
our biologic magnetic
still
his head. Griffins.
be a hoax. The
griffin
He
could have
been a machine. But he knew
better.
He'd knovm
since he
was a boy,
really.
Even then,
dreamsphantom scrabbling had come again from overhead.
certain technicolor-vivid
He tensed: He glimpsed
the
a dark fluttering from the corner of one eye; he turned, thought he saw a leathery wing-tip withdraw from the upper edge of the
windowframe. Really, Really,
Weird Stories
97
98
.
.
.
John Shirley
And the Angel with Television Eyes
"Oh God." He decided it might be a good idea to read the rest of the letter. Now. Quickly. Best he learn all he could about them. Because the scratching
and
on
the roof
was becoming a
Louder
grating, scraping sound.
harsher.
He
forced himself to read the
last
paragraph of the
"... in the
letter.
old days they manifested as beast-things, because their appearance fected by our expectation of them. filtering
enter the visible plane only after
through our cultural psyche, the society's collective electromag-
mental
netic
They
And
field.
something to do
their shapes apparently have
with their inner psychological make-up—each one has a different
When
age.
they
become bodied, they manipulate
atomic-physical world with plasma-field telekinesis,
what
is af-
at least
seem
be
to
self-im-
the atoms of the
and shape
it
into
actually functioning organisms, or machines.
Lately they take the
form of machines—coUaged with more ancient imag-
ery—because ours
a machine-minded society. They're
is
myth
robots, per-
haps. They're not magical creatures. They're real, with their
own
subtle
metabolism—and physical needs and ecological niche. They have a
method of keeping records—in 'Closed-system Plasma fields'— and even constructing housing. Their castles are vast and complex and invisible to us, untouchable and all but undetectable. We can pass through them and not disturb them. The Hidden Race has a radically different relationship to matter, energy— and death. That special relationship is what makes them seem magical to us Well, Mr. Whitman, we're getting in touch .
.
.
with you to ask you to attend a meeting of those directly involved in plans for defense against the Exploitationists' campaign to—"
He
got no further in his reading.
He was
distracted.
Naked
terror
is
a
distracting thing.
A squealing sound
of ripped metal from
cringe in his seat, look as a
up
just
over his head
made him
to see claws of polished titanium, claws long
man's fingers and wickedly curved, slashing the cab's thin roof. The
claws peeled the metal back Frantically,
Max punched
.
.
.
a message into the cab's terminal:
direction for nearest police station. bility
Emergency
priority. I
Change
take responsi-
for traffic disruption.
The cab swerved, grid to spiral
down
street level, across
station.
the traffic parting for the off-ramp.
from a cop
It
pulled
just getting
it,
up
and took an
exit
from the
in the concrete cab-stop at
out of a patrol car at the police
Wide-eyed, the cop drew his gun and ran toward the cab.
Claws snatched
at
Max's shoulders.
He opened
the cab door, and
flung himself out of the car, bolting for shelter.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
.
.
.
And the Angel with Television Eyes
Something struck him between the shoulderblades. There was an into his flesh
icy digging at his
and
lifted
him
fell
face
down; he
staggered.
off his feet—he could feel the muscles of his
shoulders straining, threatening to
and he
He
shoulders-he howled. Steel claws sank
lay for a
The claws opened, moment, gasping on his tear.
released him, belly.
He had
a choppy impression of something blue-black flapping above and be-
He felt a tugging at his belt—and then he was lifted into the air, the
hind.
clawed things carrying him by the belt as
if it
were a luggage handle.
He was two, three, five meters above the concrete, and spiraling upward. He heard a gunshot, thought he glimpsed the cop fallen, a winged on him.
darkness descending
The ful
city
wings
whirled into a gray
just
above.
He
Max heard the regular beat of power-
blur.
thought: I'm too heavy.
It's
not aerodynamically
possible.
But he was carried higher
still,
the flying things making creaking, whip-
ping sounds with their pinions. Otherwise, they were unnervingly
Max
stopped struggling to
ten stories to the street.
free himself. If
He was
slumped
silent.
he broke loose now, he'd
like
fall
a rabbit in a hawk's claws,
hanging limply, humiliated.
He of
saw two of the
sight.
middle.
They
They
flying things below,
carried the
carried
other by the throat.
now,
just
policeman— a big bald
climbing into his line
man
with a paunchy
him between them; one had him by the
ankles, the
He looked lifeless. Judging by the loll of his head, his
neck was broken. Except for the rush of wind past the belt was cutting into him.
He was
afraid,
his face, the
Max felt numb,
deeply afraid, but the fear
pain at his hips where
once more
with the world, a background noise that one grows used constant banging from a neighborhood construction
he looked vu.
at the things carrying
He remembered them
in a
dream.
had somehow become one to, like
site.
But
the
when
him, he had a chilling sense of deja
from the dreams.
Two
mornings before,
he'd awakened, mumbling, "The things that flew, the things with
claws
." .
.
They were made of vinyl. were made
cars
were bony, almost their
Blue-black vinyl, just exacdy the stuff seats of
of, stretched over,
skeletal
he guessed, aluminum frames. They
women, with
little
hard knobs for breasts,
arms merging into the broad, scalloped imitation leather wings.
They had the heads of women-with
day-glo wigs of green, stiff-plastic
brisdes-but instead of eyes there were the lenses of cameras, one in
each socket; and
Really, Really,
when
they opened their mouths he saw, instead of
Weird Stories
99
loo
.
John Shirley
And the Angel with Television Eyes
.
.
narrow
teeth, the blue-gray curves of razors following the line of the
jaws.
Max thought:
One
a harpy.
of the harpies, three meters away and a
vinyl head, its
It's
its
camera lenses
mouth and threw back
came
A vinyl harpy.
glittering, to its
head
like
little
below, turned
look Max in the a
dog about
face;
to
its
opened
it
howl and out
GO TO THE SHELTERS. GO IMDO NOT STOP TO GATHER POSSES-
the sound of an air-raid warning:
MEDIATELY TO THE SHELTERS. SIONS. TAKE FAMILY TO THE SHELTERS. BRING NOTHING. FOOD AND WATER WILL BE PROVIDED. GO IMMEDL\TELYAnd two others took it up. GO IMMEDIATELY- in a sexless, emotionless tone of authority. TAKE FAMILY TO THE SHELTERSAnd Max could tell that, for the harpies, the words had no meaning, it was
way of animal cawing,
their
They
the territorial declaration of their kind.
more than
couldn't have been in the air
ten minutes—flapping
of, the city churning by below— They were going down beyond the automated zone. They entered Edgetown, what used to be the South Bronx. People still sometimes drove combustion cars here, on the pot-holed,
unevenly over rooftops,
when
bits
and pieces
they began to descend.
cracked
when
streets,
men were
they could get contraband gasoline; here police-
rarely seen; here the corner security
smashed, the sidewalks crusted with
trash,
cameras were always
and two-thirds of the
build-
ings deserted.
Max was carried down toward an old-fashioned tar rooftop; roof of a five-story building, wedged in between three
four looked derelict and empty; the building across the street
few
signs of occupation: laundry in the airshaft,
roof.
The
Max felt Where
a
a
child, little
little
black
girl,
one small
was the
it
ones. All
taller
showed
child
watched without any sign of
a
on the
surprise.
better, seeing her.
the shadows of the three buildings intersected
the deepest pocket of darkness, there
rooftop doorway into the building.
was a small
on the
outbuilding;
fourth, in it
was the
The door hung brokenly to one
side.
A
cherry-red light pulsed just inside the doorway, like hate in a nighted soul.
Max
lost sight
of the red glow as the vinyl harpies turned, circling for
The rooftop rushed up at him. There was a sickening moment of freefall when they let go. He fell three meters to the rooftop, struck a landing.
on the
balls
of his
feet,
plunged forward, shoulder-rolled to a stop.
gasped, trying to get his breath back.
He
ached
in his ankles
He
and the
soles of his feet.
He
took a deep breath and stood, swaying, blinking.
staring into the
He found
he was
open doorway. Within, framed by the
dusty, dark en-
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
.
trance to the stairway,
was concentrated
.
.
And the Angel with Television Eyes
was a man made of red-hot steel. The heat-glow and arms. He touched the wooden frame
in his torso
of the doorway-and
it
tar rooftop, leaping
atop chimneys and
wings to
TERS,
flap,
burst into flame.
The
harpies capered about the
down again, stretching their booming, GO IMMEDIATELY TO THE SHEL-
cawing,
GO IMMEDIATELY, GO GO GO
.
.
The man made of hot metal stepped onto the roof. The harpies quieted, cowed. They huddled together, behind him, cocking their heads and scratching under their wings with pointed chins. To one side lay the lifeless body of the policeman, its back toward Max; the corpse's head had been twisted entirely around on its neck; one blue eye was open, staring lifelessly;
the man's tongue
For a
was caught between clamped
moment all was
of the small
fire
on
quiet,
but for the rustling of wings and crackling
the outbuilding.
The man of hot chrome wore no nearly two-and-a-half meters
tory-new chest,
fighter-jet.
with the
teeth, half severed.
He
tall,
clothes at
and smooth
was seamless— except
metal turn-handle on
little
it.
all.
He was
immense,
as the outer hull of a fac-
for the square gate
The
gate
was
on
his
precisely like
the door of an incinerator; in the center of the gate was a small, thick
pane of smoke-darkened
glass,
through which blue-white
seen burning resdessly. Except for their bright metal legs
and
stylized genitals
fires
could be
finish, his
arms and
looked quite human. His head was formed of
barbed wire— a densely woven wire sculpture of a man's head, cunningly
formed eyes,
to
show
grim, aristocratic features. There were simply holes for
behind which red
fires flickered in his
hollow head;
now and
then
flames darted from the eye-holes to play about his temples and then cede; his scalp barbs.
was a
crest of barbs;
Gray smoke gusted from
"Feed me." The wire
lips
his
moved
re-
eyebrows and ears were shaped of
mouth when he spoke
to the harpies:
a man's; the wire jaw
like
seemed
to
work smoothly. "Feed me, while I speak to this one." He stepped closer Max, who cringed back from the heat. "I am Lord Thanatos." A voice like
metal rending.
Max knew him. One
of the harpies
moved
to the corpse of the policeman;
it
took hold
of the arm, put one stunted foot on the cop's back, and began to wrench and twist. It tore the corpse's arm from its shoulder and dragged it to
Thanatos, leaving a out with
its
free
trail
The harpy reached handle on its Lord's chest. The
of red blood on black
hand and turned the
tar.
door svmng open; an unbearable brightness flared ing its head, turning its eyes from the rapacious Really, Really,
Weird Stories
in the opening; ducklight,
the vinyl harpy
ioi
102 ...
John Shirley
And the Angel with Television Eyes
watch and blue
stuffed the cop's arm, replete with digital
coat-sleeve,
bosom of Thanatos. Sizzlings and poppings and smoke unfurling. And the smell of roasting flesh. Max's stomach
into the inferno, the
black
recoiled;
He
he took another step backward.
lyzed, as the harpies scuttled
watched, feeling half para-
back and forth between the corpse and
Thanatos, slowly dismembering and disemboweling the dead police-
man, feeding the pieces into the furnace that was
And
his fire
"This
is
burned more
how
look on me.
will be," said
it
Max Whitman,
glow
furiously; his
their Lord.
increased.
Thanatos. "You will serve me. You can
and upon
my servants, and you do
not go
mad. You do not run howling away. Because you are one of those who once, you and serve
us, in some way. We met on the dream-plane knew you for what you were, then. You can among men. You will be my emissary. You will
known about
has always
me, and
and
I,
still
I
live
be shielded from the cowards
You
world.
will
wealthy ones. Thanatos.
I
how
is
will
As he
it
prevent
who control the many. The them about a great source of power. Lord send fiends and visitations to beset their enemies. grow, and they will feed me, and my Power will grow.
will be."
down from
finished speaking, another harpy flapped
smudged white
suit.
"They always
kill
not break them of
the sky,
was a young Hispanic
It
Thanatos opened the wiry mouth of
head and sighed; blue smoke smelling of munitions
surable to
entry into your
will tell
dropping a fresh corpse into the shadows.
air.
my
go to certain men, the few
You
Their power will This
who would
his
factories dirtied the
them, somehow, as they bring them to me.
it.
They always
consume when
there
kill
Men
the humans.
is life left
them.
in
in a
hollow
are
can-
I
more
My curse is
plea-
this:
I'm
served by half-minds."
Max The
thought:
Why didn't
into their master's fire.
Thanatos looked
And Max do
fire.
just
the harpies
kill
me, then?
an arm from the sprawled dead man, and fed
vinyl harpies tore
at
Max. "You have not
yet spoken."
thought: Say anything. Anything to get the hell away.
what you
it
Their camera-lens eyes caught the shine of the
ask. Let
me go and
I'll
bring you
lives. I'll
"I'll
be your, uh,
your emissary."
Another long, smoky Instinct of
some
sort,
I
sigh. "You're lying.
I
was
afraid you'd
be
loyal.
suppose."
"Loyal to who?" "I
can read you. You see only the semblance
past your semblance.
You cannot
lie
to
one of
I've
us.
I
chosen. But see the
Really, Really,
lie
I
in
see
you
Weird Stories
John Shirley unfolding
not
.
And the Angel with Television Eyes
the blossoming of a poisonous purple orchid.
like
You
can-
licked barbed wire lips with a tongue of flame.
So they ity! Is
.
to a Lord."
lie
He
.
will kill
me,
Max
that a strange death?
thought. They'll feed
An
No
absurd death?
me
into this monstros-
stranger than dying by
on some Israeli battlefield; no more absurd than my uncle Danny's death: he drowned in a big vat of fluorescent pink paint.
nerve-gas
"You're not going to die," said Thanatos. "We'll keep you in ever imprisoned, unpleasantly
What happened
next
made Max
From Above. Because
down from above and struck the two body of the man in the smudged white suit
silvery flashed
bending over the
on the
think of a slogan stenciled
snout of one of the old B-12 bombers: Death
something
stasis, for-
alive."
.
harpies were struck with a terrible impact, sent broken and
harpies .
both
.
lifeless
over
the edge of the roof.
The
griffin pulled
up from
its
dive, raking the tar roof,
the burning outbuilding and up for another pass. rose to
meet
Other North.
harpies
it.
figures
were converging on the
One was a man who
His body was
what looked
and soared over
The remaining
roof,
angelic, his skin dazzling white;
like
aluminum
coming
in a
group from the
hovered without wings; he seemed to
foil.
levitate.
he wore a loincloth made of
His head was a man's, haloed with blond
curls-but where his eyes and forehead should have been was a small sion screen, projecting from the
image of a man's screen. nickel,
Two more and
just
griffins arrived,
behind them came a
ton blown on the breeze. nude, a plastic are
bone of his
eyes, looking about;
She was
Madonna made
made; she was
glossy,
and
it
skull.
was
as
televi-
On the screen was a TV if he saw from the TV
one electroplated gold, another of
woman who
drifted like a bit of cot-
shapely, resembling
Mother Mary, but
of the stuff of which inflatable beach-toys
striped in
wide bands of primary colors. She
seemed insubstantial as a soap-bubble, but when she struck at a vinyl harpy Flanking her were it reeled back, turning end over end to fall senseless. two miniature helicopters-helicopters no bigger than
horses.
The lower
section of each helicopter resembled a medieval dragon figured in armored metal, complete with clawed arms in place of landing runners.
Each copter's cab was conventionally shaped-but no driver sat behind the windows; and just below those sinister windows was a set of chrome teeth
mouth opening to let loose with great peals of electronically amplified angling their laughter. The dragon copters dived to attack the harpies,
in a
whirring blades to shred the vinyl wings.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
103
104
•
•
•
And the Angel with Television Eyes
Thanatos grated a
command and from
John Shirley doorway behind
the burning
him came seven bats big as vultures, with camera-lens eyes and sawing and wings of paper-thin aluminum.
electric knives for teeth
Max threw himself to whipped
fire;
the bats
tack
Our Lady of
Two
the roof, coughing in the
close over his
smoke of the growing
head and climbed, keening, to
dog-sized spiders
made
of high-tension rubbery synthetics, their
on whirring
clashing mandibles forged of the best Solingen steel, raced
copper
The
at-
the Plastics.
legs across the
roof to intercept the angel with television eyes.
Max. The spiders him down, slashed bloody
angel alighted and turned to gesture urgently to
clutched at the angel's legs and dragged
hunks from
his ivory arms.
Max saw Lord
Thanatos catch a passing
onto the roof; he clamped the
and began
Two
griffin
by the
shower of blue sparks. Our Lady of the
dents into the aluminum ribs of the vinyl harpies slashed,
it
to melt.
metal bats collided head-on with a copter dragon and
disintegrated in a
burst
and slam
tail
griffin in his white-hot hands. It shrieked
and boomed
open—but
GO IMMEDIATELY, bellowing
all
three
Plastics struck
who
darted at her,
in
triumph as she
it
they recoiled in dismay, flapping clumsily out of reach,
when she re-formed, anew in mid-air.
gathering her fragments together, making herself
Max sensed that the real battle was fought in some other dimension of subatomic
physicality,
with a subder weaponry; he was seeing only the
distorted visual echoes of the actual struggle.
The
He
spiders
were wrapping the
angel's legs with chords of
them off, Max: "Take your life! You—"
gave a mighty wrench and threw
reach, shouting at
"SILENCE HIM!" Thanatos bellowed, stabbing a hot gel.
And
instantly
two of the harpies plummeted
the throat of the angel with television eyes.
glass.
finger at the an-
to sink their talons in
They
gouting, ragged wreckage of his white throat— and
spun
out of their
levitating
tore at him,
Max blinked,
made
a
seeing a
phosphorescent mist, the color of translucent turquoise, issuing from the angel's slack
mouth
as
he
fell
to the ground.
I'm seeing his plasma body escape.
He
Max thought. I'm realizing my talent.
saw the blue phosphorescence, vaguely man-shaped,
in the air over the
body of the dead Hispanic.
corpse. Possessing
it.
Sans
its
right arm, half
its
It settled,
drift to
face clawed away, the corpse stood.
shuddered, spoke with shredded
lips.
"Max,
kiU yourself
and
Really, Really,
hang
enfolding the
It
swayed,
lib—"
Weird Stories
John Shirley
.
Thanatos lunged
at the
burned
.
.
And the Angel with Television Eyes
wavering corpse, closed hot metal fingers
The corpse slumped. coming back to him— or was someone sending them back? Someone mindsending. You were of the Con-
around But
its
throat,
Max
its
voice-box into char.
stood. His dreams were
cealed.
Thanatos turned from the Bind him, carry him to
battle, scowling,
the angel with television eyes,
A
and crept toward Max. forced himself forward.
commanding: "Take him!
The spiders, gnawing on the corpse of moved reluctantly away from their feeding
safety!"
He
of revulsion went through him.
thrill
He
"Don't hurt
knelt, within the spiders' reach.
him!" Thanatos bellowed. "Take care that he does not—"
But he did.
He embraced a spider,
thing dear; and used
He
fell,
its
spasming, and knew
grayness.
And
clasping
it
to
him
as
if it
razor-sharp mandibles to slash his inexpressible pain;
a shattering while
were some-
own
throat.
and numbness, and
light.
He was dead. He was alive. He was standing over his own body, liberated. He reached out, and, with his plasma-field, extinguished the fire on the outbuilding. Instantly.
The battle noises softened, then muted— the combatants drew apart. They stood or crouched or hovered silently, watching him and waiting. They knew him for Prince Red Mark, a sleeping Lord of the Plasmagnomes, one of seven Concealed among humanity years before awaiting the day of awakening, the hour when they must emerge to protect those the kin of
He was ers,
Thanatos would slaughter for the
arisen, the first
of the Concealed.
eating.
He would awaken
the oth-
those hidden, sleeping in the hearts of the humble and the un-
known. In old
women and
was one, hidden
in a
tired,
young black
middle-aged soldiers and-and there girl,
not
far away.
Thanatos shuddered and squared himself for the
Max, Lord Red Mark, scanned the other
Now
battle of wills.
figures
on the rooftop. them as in-
he could see past their semblances, recognize
networks of rippling wavelength, motion that is thought, energy equal to will. He reached out, reached past the semblance of
terlacing
Lord Thanatos.
A small black girl, one Hazel Johnson, watched the battle from a rooftop across the street. She
was the only one who saw
it;
she had the only
suitable vantage.
Hazel Johnson was
know that the
just eight years old,
but she was old enough to
scene should have surprised her, should have sent her
Really, Really,
Weird
Stories
yell-
105
John Shirley
And the Angel with Television Eyes
io6 ...
Momma.
ing for
But she had seen
dreams were
lieved that
And now
it
dream, and she'd always be-
in a
real.
man who'd thrown
she saw that the
himself
on
the spider
body had given off a kind of blue phosphorescence; and the blue cloud had formed into something solid, a gigantic shape had
died,
and
his
that towered over the nasty-looking wire-head of hot metal. All the flying
things
had stopped
flying.
They were watching
the newcomer.
The newcomer looked, to Hazel, like one of the astronauts you saw on TV coming home from the space station; he wore one of those spacesuits they wore, and he even had the U.S. flag stitched on one of his sleeves.
But he was a whole
He
she'd ever seen.
tall.
And now
of those helmets that the Knights of the
man
movie on TV. The knight
of hot metal
.
.
Round Table wore,
in the spacesuit
like
she saw
was reaching out
to the
.
Lord Red Mark was
distantly
from the rooftop across the
aware that one of
his
ovm was
Lady Day asleep
street. Possibly
human being; a small person who really human after all.
of a small wasn't
she saw
He had one
that he didn't have a helmet like the a regular astronaut had.
in the
man
than any astronaut, or any
lot bigger
must have been four meters
didn't
know,
watching
in the
body
yet, that
she
Now he reached out and closed one of his gloved hands around Lord Thanatos's barbed-wire neck
glove began to melt in the heat.
hand opened the that
burned
And
in the
how it.
(that's
and held him
ing from across the street)
Red Mark
incinerator door,
bosom
of his
snuffed out the flame,
The metal body remained
like
looked to the
fast,
little girl
watch-
though the metal of that
held him, and with the other
and reached
his
hand
into the fire
enemy— a
man snuffing a candle with his thumb.
standing, cooling, forever inert.
The minions
of Lord Thanatos fled squalling into the sky, pursued by the Protectionists,
abandoning
their visible physicality,
becoming once more unseeable. And
so the battle was carried into another realm of being.
Soon harpies,
the rooftop
and the
shell
Red Mark turned
He
was empty of
all
but a corpse, and a few broken
of Thanatos, and Lord
to look directly at the
levitated, rose evenly into the air,
Red Mark. on the opposite
little girl
and
drifted to her.
He
roof.
alighted
beside her and took off his helm. Beneath was a light that smiled.
was
beautiful.
He
She nodded, the
human
said, "Let's
go find the
slowly, beginning to wake.
shell, said,
"Do
1
He
others."
But the
little-girl
have to die too? Like you
part of her,
did.^"
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
.
.
.
And the Angel mTH Television Eyes
"No. That was for an emergenq^. There are other ways." "I don't have to die now?"
"Not now and You'll never die,
Really, Really,
.
.
."
my
The
light that
Lady."
Weird Stories
was a smile grew brighter. "Not
ever.
107
The Sweet Caress OF Mother Nature
Damon Stout was when
summer,
strolling in Central Park, at dusk, in the early
the cat spoke to him.
Stout was out walking with the vague notion of exercising himself into sobriety.
He'd gotten drunk on
his
lunch hour, hadn't returned to the
editorial office, couldn't face his secretary as shit-faced as
He
was.
though reading still, it
it
was only a
must be read and
He'd been walking
him along the in
he obviously
had the new Dean Koontz manuscript waiting on ritual,
officially
since accepting the
responded
blindly for an
his desk,
book was
a given;
to.
hour or more,
letting his
nose lead
paths, barely aware of the lengthening shadows,
and then,
one of those shadows, two golden eyes brought him out of
his gray
revery.
"Well," said the cat, an ordinary orange-striped tabby, "you certainly
sssseem depress-ss-ssed, mister." Stout stopped walking.
anyone but the
He blinked. He looked
mouth
cat. It's
around, and didn't see
hadn't moved, except to
open
just
a
little,
but he had the distinct impression that the small, soft voice, drawing out the Ss was
"Oh "No
He
its
throat, as
seriously, mister,
like that.
"Bullshit.
it
added, "Are you okay?"
he muttered.
you look depresssssed."
thought of Candid Camera.
shows
"I
coming from
bullshit,"
The
cat could
It
was
off the air but there
were other
be animatronic or something.
Where's the camera?"
think you are
." .
.
It
seemed
to think about the wording.
".
.
.
labor-
ing under a missss-app-re-henshhhhhion." It
had trouble pronouncing the longer words.
"It is
"Oh
I,
who's talking to you, mister," the cat
wait ... the medication
said.
." .
.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
I
The Sweet Caress of Mother Nature
John Shirley
He was on
a
new
antidepressant medication—most
New York editors
were, since multinational conglomerates had bought out the publishers-
and he'd been warned not from
mind
his
to mix alcohol with moment.
until this
"You," he told the
a warning he'd blocked
it,
a neurological side effect, the result of mix-
cat, "are
ing psychoactive chemicals which should not be mixed."
"You're saying I'm a hallu-ccin-a-tion?" "I
am,
of
yes. First
know how
all,
cats can't talk.
Second,
they would learn English, and
would they acquire such good
if
if
they could,
I
don't
they did learn English,
how
diction?"
"Good points, all. We are able to talk, firsst-ly, because of mini-aturizza-tion. You know how people make micro-chipsss that keep getting tinier so they can put bigger
"Ah—so you
computing power into smaller placesss?"
are a machine?" Stout was beginning to enjoy this halluci-
broke him out of the maze of
nation, hoax, or whatever
it
standard dilemmas, and
woke him up
God.
He was
it
was.
It
all
has happened
pssssychic organism
you
call
way
in the
by
that felt good,
that
you yourself are a
think you'd
call
it
an adjustment by the
is
Mother Nature.
me Mother
"You're telling "I
and
org-anissssms are bio-log-shick-allll machines, wouldn't you
What
agree-yeee?
little,
inclined to prolong the experience.
"No, I'm not a machine— except machine:
a
his
Nature
The
Gaia.
is
She's ex-peri-menti-ing—
real?"
living Earth. She'sss exper-iii-menting
with animalssss, trying to find one that hurts her beingsss, sssearching for
an
alter-nat-iiiive
cause of the ssself-ev-i-dent
all
collective
around
dominant
than
less
speciessss,
of
exccccel-lllence
human and
cats,
be-
she
chossse us. She's done the equivalent of super-mini-aturi-zzzing a micro-
chip-but she's done
it
with braincellsss.
I
have even more braincells than
you—but they are mini-aturi-zzzed. And my vocal chordsss have mu-tat-ed. Do not make a joke about 'mew'-tations. The lassst fellow who passst by did and
.
.
.
bessst
we
not ssspeak of
"Are you the only cat
"Not
at
all.
And
that." Its tail
twitched warningly.
like this?"
asss for your questions
about English
The cat Some pa-ra."
.
paused to scratch vigorously behind one ear. "Excuse me. sssite or other. We'll have to keep sssome vetsss around
.
.
.
.
Asss to
speaking English, you can thank Msss. Teresa Carpenter for that: An elderly cat-loving lady who strove to teach English to some of the ad-
vanced mu-ta-ted
felinesss
in turn taught others. at the
I
among
can read a
moment."
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
her thirty-two adopted straysss. bit, in fact. I
We
rather fancy R.L. Ssstine
109
no The Sweet Caress
me
"Tell
of Mother Nature
something
things they're killing
one
"If
.
.
.
.
always wondered.
I've
.
.
like
mice, they
not in a hurry, mister,
is
John Shirley
them
kill
why not
Why do bit
by
cats play
bit,
with
sometimes."
enjoy one's occ-up-a-shunnn?
when you can? And if you think it cruel— don't tell me there isss no sssadism among humans. I know better. All animals know better. Shall we speak of laboratory resssearch?" Smell the ro-ses. Don't you,
Let It
not.
s
yawned, showing needle-sharp
He went
"Good
on,
you chosen to
point about
teeth.
human
behavior ... So:
Why
have
me?"
talk to
wasn't really necessssary. But—one likes to smell the rossses."
"It
"Excuse me?"
when he saw them—as
That's
were giving birth to a
ward him, and came
"Oh "Oh
surely not,"
litter
"After
He and in
.
.
said,
backing away.
Ms. Carpenter
almost
like
We
died, there
chicken
its
ears back, twitching
was nothing about
dissscovered that
human
to eat
.
.
.
beings have a lovely
." .
.
tried to run, of course, but there
it
to-
into the light with their golden eyes blinking.
he
except Ms. Carpenter. .
the long shadows of deepening evening
yessss indeed, mister," the cat said, laying
its tail.
taste
if
of slinking smaller shadows which oozed
was surprising how much
were about a hundred of them,
truth there
is
in the expression strength
numbers.
And
him down and he remembered, the
so they dragged
coming
to
him
in a flash:
having his
own
vision of
it
and how he'd
cat years before,
mouse or, as often, portions of dead on the welcome mat; a mouse-head neatly
found, nearly every day, a dead
mouse: a discrete torn from
pile
mouse
and
stiff bristling
tion
on
little
head, with shiny black eyes
whiskers and incisors immaculately intact, a decapita-
his doorstep;
away from
of guts
shoulders, a perfect
his belly,
and
now
as
he
he remembered
how
bowel the mouse, and
flailed at
how
them, trying to get them
the cat had loved to disem-
they could prolong the process, and he
heard them chatting as they sliced at him with their claws and dug at his eyes
and
his belly—and
he screamed—
But there were other screams, now, cat screams, drowning out
own, and he
felt
the tearing pain recede,
himself panting in a small pool of his
around him was a
Hundreds of
living
and he opened
own blood
green parrot: house birds
like
his
found
in the grass, while
whirlwind of yellow and pink
budgies, hundreds of parakeets,
his eyes,
.
.
now and
.
then a flash of
a cloud of airborne piranha gripping the
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
The Sweet Caress of Mother Nature hi
John Shirley cats
with their talons, tearing
dozen birds to each
now
else, too, bils
and white
screaming
at
them
mob; a dozen, two despairing cat—and something
in a fluttering
shrieking, panicky,
lunging into the few aperatures of open chattering to
rats,
felines
.
.
one another
as they
fur: gerbils, ger-
burrowed
into the
.
Chattering in English.
A
kind of pidgin English; exchanging brutal
pleasantries with the birds who, beaks red with cat blood, hopped away
from the looking Stout his cuts
a
good
feline remains, leaving the flesh to the rodents; the cats
like roadkill
managed
to
.
.
sit
were deep or
up— the
lethal,
cats
had been torturing him, and none of
they hadn't yet got that
far.
He would need
antibiotic.
But Stout was
in shock, feeling cold
scarcely reacted at
all,
when
the
colored parakeet perched on are not badly hurt,
to the pet stores,
form you great
now
.
if
you
man.
its
and numb and
dog spoke
shoulder nodding in agreement. "You
Rrrrise, rrrise
where yourrrr work
and bandage yourself and report as servant will begin.
arrrre to take part in the
war
us,
pink ape. Rrrrise and serve us well,
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
We
will in-
The
against the felines.
wave of mutation has come and gone and
some of
and
distant,
to him, a big Akita, the jade-
if
liberation
is
you would
here: for
live
." .
.
In the Cornelius Arms (thanks to Michael Moorcock)
As Timothy made up
blood
his face dead-white, his lips
red,
drawing a
slash-wound on his neck with special-effects authenticity, he listened to the
sounds of lovemaking from the next room. could
her—even posed
comfortable with two
feel
licking
He wondered how
took another
sip
Elena
each other right in front of
between times, one of them was going down on
if,
was the drugs. Chasing the dragon
it
places you'd never have
He
men
until the
dreamed of going. Maybe
her.
He
sup-
dragon lured you into
it
was nice
of absinthe, and the liquor, as
it
there.
shivered through
him, seemed to suggest that he join Elena and Garret and Sylvain. But he
knew he
wouldn't.
Anyway,
this
morning, he had been entrusted by Jerry himself with
showing the new
He
looked
girl
the ropes: the silken ropes of the Cornelius Arms.
at himself in the mirror,
standing for the
black
full effect;
frock coat, French ruffles, French cuffs, whitened hands, black finger-
he flicked the onyx inverted-cross earring with satisfaction and
nails;
blew himself a
"The
devil's
an angel sucks
kiss.
on
the roof!" Sylvain groaned, from the next room.
my dick!" There came
on buttocks. Timothy went
"And
a smacking sound— a palm striking
flat
downstairs, descending magisterially, elegantly, and
cognizance of his responsibility as Chief Lord of the Darkmoors,
with
full
First
Family of the Fens, looi Guerrero Street, San Francisco California.
Beth loved the look of the place from the see
it:
overcast, gloomy, the
sullen light;
Arms tere
itself
like
and untouchably
it
trash in the gutter.
a sphinx in the gothic,
and
was a
fine
day to
broken clouds shot through with shafts of
wind spinning paper
stood
first,
its
But the Cornelius
crowded San Francisco block,
architectural inner eye fixed
Really, Really,
on
aus-
eternity.
Weird Stories
John Shirley
the Cornelius Arms
In
Beth pulled her black wrap
around her shoulders, hugging her
tighter
old carpet bag, shivering in the wind, as she gazed up at the hotel's peaks
and towers,
walls of stone
and roofs of
and stained
stained gutters
glass,
crow squawked on a wrought-iron
timeworn gargoyles, as a slitted
iris.
its
A
lightning rod.
USA could
looks older, she thought, than anything in the
It
just
slate; its
windows narrow
be.
But
it's
another pre-Victorian San Francisco monstrosity.
To one
side of the
Arms was an
one of those with a Grande
intricately-restored Victorian house,
Dame
sensibility that
was a
little
over-
painted, frilled with colorful flowerpots, like a well-appointed drag
queen; probably a wealthy gay couple lived there. shabbier Victorian, beginning to
As she ascended the
list
On
front steps she found a street-Goth squatting be-
side the black-marble collonade, staring sullenly at the
ment he'd torn
off the neighbor's "beamer"; he
face crudely whitened, lips glossed black with like
eyes, giving
him a panda
being ignored. She
what looked
knew
What was
his
sixteen, his
like
mascara,
his long-lashed
look: his dirty blond hair half dreadlocked
Manson
him, she thought, from a Marilyn
or maybe Alien Sex Fiends. "Hi Beth," he said,
"Fii."
BMW hood orna-
was about
kohl— possibly charcoal— thick around
something
cert;
the other side, a
a little—away from the Arms.
from con-
lifelessly.
name?
"Prince Dreybak," the boy said, giving her a look of sidelong reproach for not
remembering
"Cold to be fully
sitting
mordant out
He
me
on
today.
the front steps," she said. "But then
Supposed
to
be fog
it's
beauti-
this evening."
nodded, but was not consoled. "They won't
"Do you have "I
his tide.
let
me
in."
rent?"
have enough for a week.
I
got
my
SSI check.
But they won't
let
in."
"You're too young, they don't want to get raided or something." "I'm, like, a legally
how many
emancipated minor.
Shadow? Not very many, not I'm a
I
mean, we're
Goths are there around, real Goths,
member
really.
We
who
all
Goths and
really live in the
should be helping each other.
of the Malacosto Clan, too."
"Are you?" She wasn't surprised; the Malacostos were easygoing about recruitment. When the "vampire games" were played at the clubs and the parks, the
enormous
role playing
games with
"writers" setting
up
simations for the supposed Vampire Clans to act out, neogothic passion plays and Anne Rice fetishism, there were always too many Malacostos
and they had
to
Really, Really,
make some of them
Weird Stories
wait.
113
114 In
THE Cornelius Arms "Well, Prince
.
.
John Shirley
Dreybak.
.
room." She wondered what
ask about you.
I'll
name was. She thought maybe
his real
my
already got
I've
it
was
Morris.
She ruffled
his hair as she
walked
by,
then surreptitiously wiped her
hand on her bag, and went inside. Timothy, the Baron of Malthustra, was waiting posed and picturesque, gazing
case,
gnette.
at
for her
on
the
stair-
her through a mirrorshades
"Welcome, Beth, Lady HoUowbones of Clan Sangre,
lor-
to the
Cornelius Arms."
Jerry Cornelius spread his arms like Jesus little
tily
on the
Edwige could wash under them, and across
muscled white
chest.
cross, so that lovely
his pallid, scarred, pret-
He glanced down at his
shoulders and thought
again of having the tattoos lasered away, especially the one of the goat-
man crouched on
the Seal of Solomon; but then, the tats were appropri-
ate to the present conceit.
"Edwige," he said, "you are French, you vorite is
food
live in is
named
for a
queen of Sweden, you are
America, your favorite music
sushi.
What
are
we
to
is
Turkish, and your
do with you? Consistency, my
fa-
dear,
everything."
She smiled, dimpling, her black eyes shining, knowing he was teasing her, as she
swabbed
his legs, his genitals, his arse.
He wondered if his current dislike
of immersing himself in water, even
showers, was a permanent quirk. Lately—if a time traveler could have a "lately"—there
kinking back
He
had been so many
upon
itself in
had changed; and
Of course, he
yet
was
quirks. It
sheer rebellion to
as
all it
if
his character
were
had been subjected
to.
he never changed.
Nothing touched him
didn't really care.
in his
innermost
places.
She touched him, though, on
his
John Thomas, and he
languidly let
her suck him for a while, stroking her raven hair the while; and he gazed at the dust spiraling in the blue tinted light slanting
After a while he said, "James O'Barr—is he
She kissed him
"He, Mr.
Shirley,
there,
and stood. "No,
and Mr. Gould
sent please them, and
here?"
still
sir."
Her
it
must
accent was delicate.
The carriage you airport when the horses
leave this morning.
must have surprise the
brought them there, but
through the window.
also have
been
tres
cher for you."
"No no, a trifle. And Mr. Moorcock?" He chuckled at the thought of Moorcock; the man's expression when he had realized .
"Mr Moorcock
leave last night; he
seem
.
.
... to hurry."
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley "A
bit
In
of a shock to find out
quantum
I
was real—and of
spectra of the continuum.
paused, for this was
the Cornelius Arms
his responsibility in the
Edwige love—what about
the important matter. "... the
girl?
Has
He
." .
.
she come?"
"She has, sweet master." "Ah!
And
has she brought the macrochip, then?"
'']ensais pas, she has only just arrived." "I felt all
the lines
"Ow/, bien
sur,
convei^g for tonight—I'm sure she has it. Dress me now."
mon amour'
Beth was nervous about meeting him. There were so many
though he'd only come on the scene a year before,
come with Barry
at the
stories
Halloween
House of Usher,
the
Goth-rock club, and they'd been surprised to hear there would be a
live
dance. Beth had
performer.
The man, who
that night, to the
called himself Cornelius,
be proprietor of the Cornelius Arms, was large black eyes; night,
he dressed
and seemed
to have
like
all
and who was
said to
with long black
pale,
hair,
a nineteenth century undertaker, that
the best British chromosomes.
He'd been accompanied, on the
tiny stage, only
by the small
woman
with the long straight hair and bangs, Edwige, on keyboards. Jerry a stool, and played certain songs, covers mostly;
"Astronomy" by the Blue Oyster Cult,
Iggy's
all
sat
on
she remembered was
"Some Weird
Sin",
and
something by the Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus, Joy Division, and something he claimed was by Trent Reznor though she'd heard all Reznor's releases and she'd never heard that one. He played something by the Panther
Moderns-all she could remember was the chorus: black, because
it
makes
me
feel like
Mostly she remembered the way he played: but with
full
attention;
"I like
to see
you
in
your husband's dead".
and she had the
casually, utterly relaxed,
distinct impression his fingers
had not touched the strmgs-and yet she was quite sure it wasn't some sort of audiotape, he was really playing, and sometimes there seemed to be a
violet
shimmer under
his fingers, as
if
he were playing the
field around the guitar pick ups instead of the
The music was Goth-rock,
all right,
electric
guitar.
but in his improvisational interpre-
owed as much to chamber music and tation and Sun Ra (incredible contrast somehow fused!) and, perhaps, Mahler, as to rock composers-especially when he performed his own composition, baroque digressions
it
a morbid confection called "The Curiously Cruel Destiny of the Eternal
sang in a kind of gutteral purr that sometimes became Bowiesque; someone had heard him complain that David Bowie "stole
Champion".
He
so very artlessly from me".
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
115
ii6 In
John Shirley
THE Cornelius Arms
had wanted to do things
club, she
Watching him, that night at the
for him,
without even being introduced, that she had refused to do for her boyfriend, despite his pleading for the past year.
And now
background, except that he was
his
some
to have played in
haps Gary
Glitter,
British
effortlessly wealthy,
and he was
said
rock band in the 70s, perhaps Hawkwind, per-
but no one was quite sure. She wondered
Timothy opened the door
Just then
House of one knew much
of the
No
"caretaker" of the Cornelius Arms.
Usher, the self-styled
about
new owner
she was going to meet him, the
for her
if
he were gay or—
and she went
into Jerry's
study, trying not to stumble over anything, admiring the inevitable mis-
matched
Her
.
.
window,
eyes stopped at Cornelius himself, framed in the
hands
apart,
goat-man
antiques, the Victorian bric-a-brac, the sculpture of a
on a
standing
in his trouser pockets, squinting past cigarette
sort of
European
mouth.
It
cigarette, she thought, stuck in the
was impossible
thought he might be
to
forty-five,
how
tell
smoke.
legs
Some
corner of his
was— one moment she no more than twenty-eight.
old he
the next ...
He wore an old fashioned black and gray pinstriped suit, white silk shirt, black
silk tie,
boots that were rather high and high heeled and anoma-
lous with the rest of his outfit.
on
candelabra,
Style fireplace,
where a
fire guttered.
dear
on
from the
light
Old West
"A multicultural mishmash,
innit.'^"
He never seemed to actuthe whole time she was there. He only inhaled. "I was
exhale smoke,
just twitting
was
there
lit;
the Chinese table to one side, and from the
said, taking the cigarette
ally
small blue dark glasses, low
though the room was but dimly
his nose,
he
He wore
little
from
his
mouth.
Edwige about inconsistency,
too."
saw you play the House of Usher—you were ... it was—" God what a stupid way to start! She should quote Rimbaud or some"I
admire the framed
thing, or
"Yes, night.
I
Max
remember seeing you
But with romance's usual
Ernst.
there.
But no.
And
irony,
very charming you were that
you went home alone,
She was starded he'd known so much about year
"A at
later.
bit
my
"Uhhh
.
of a poof?
old school.
"Tonight?
I
.
.
yeah. Barry
A 'friend
to
be
I
believe."
and remembered
I
let
you
.
a
.
stay here tonight, love,
to stay the week.
it
."
of Dorothy's'? Well. He'd be right at
So—why should
was supposed
mrned out
her,
And—I
thought
it
home hm?"
was
all
arranged—" "Stay the week, you say.
My dear,
you
will
not want to stay here after
tonight."
"Oh
I'm
really
not so fragile—"
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
"No
the Cornelius Arms
In
no, I'm sure you're quite suitably decadent and
no one
just that
want
will
come out
wouldn't enjoy yourself tonight and
you
assure you,
will, as
continuity with the
much
you you
as the
"Look, I'm
.
.
.
I'm into
that rot,
Not
lots
you you
of
now
are
it's
you
tomorrow,
right
it all
no
that
can have any
of
is
se-
not enough—"
just
stuff,
I
real
be tomorrow. But you see— I'm very
will
you know, and money
lective, as
all
to stay here after tonight.
but
you're, like,
if
pimping people
or something—"
"Oh ho ho ho ho no no must know, it
well,
just prior to the
I
tried that, once,
if
French Revolution, in the outskirts of
was a bloody contretemps indeed
.
.
No, no,
.
was
I
me. Frangois
He
looked
is
little
rather an adequate
cockney twins
cook
referring
He
like
it.
"And why don't you
just
the thing she'd brought.
ask for
mouth.
.
.
.
whatever
it
might be.
Without any
She thought he
bit.
then?"
it
shifted the cigarette with a twitch of his
offered
the
is
clean up for
like to
.
She had an impulse to take the piss out of him a might
to—
." .
He wanted
at her expectantly.
you
Paris,
everyone antes up something here, besides money. Timothy
house steward, for example. The
My
a steaming load of bollocks!
one, whores are altogether too demanding.
little
and
What
no!
.
.
.
"It
has to be freely
provocation."
"Why?"
He
studied her for a
moment. "Do you
believe in magic?"
"Of course!" "No,
I
don't
mean
the play-acting 'vampire game' fantasy variety, or
the sort you think you
you play
at
invoking
do with your
because you once read a
'spirits'
ous old sod Aleister Crowley.
Mind
to the
Laws
mean
I
when
friends at cemeteries at night,
magic.
of the Universe. There
is,
The
you
book by
that odi-
relationship of the
see,
but two things in
the universe: chaos and mind. Some would say chaos and order, but they ." He seemed to be thinkare really quite confused: order is mind first .
.
ing aloud, then realized that he'd said too much.
He
shrugged, with a manner that annoyed her, for
decided
didn't matter
"Just
what?" he
Had
he
"You so I
it
really
feel
I
what he
you
squinted at her.
.
.
.
insubstantial? Love,
to say
.
.
.
Mandarin
urn.
"Two
years ...
Weird Stories
you
you are very young,
you will never have Being. In
survive the threat to your
Have you read Mr. Ouspensky?" Really, Really,
just
said that he'd
read her mind? "Uh-just what, what?"
regard you as
if
She was
asked, flicking his cigarette into a rare
many ways. But I am not one
sense that
said to her.
it
life
that will
will live to
come
in
.
.
in
fact,
."
He
have very great Being.
117
THE Cornelius Arms
ii8 In
"A
John Shirley
I—what do you mean, a threat to
little.
my life in two years? Are you
pretending you can—"
He
ignored
knew Ouspensky,
that. "I
just
before the Russian Revolu-
he was preparing to leave the country with
tion, as
mind
Just keep in
was a very great contribution
Ouspensky only knew
that A4r.
Now, you were
half.
saying
.
.
.
.
.
well, never
mind.
half the truth, but
it
something about your
.
." .
.
." He had her completely confused now but she "Oh yes. Umm knew she very much wanted to stay. She opened her burgundy velvet .
.
hand bag, and took out the matchbox. She put
wooden and
sculpture of a grinning dragon (Eastern
said, "I give
He
it
box and opened little
do
it
is it
I
afraid
indeed!
"It's
"It
little
match-
with exquisite care and looked at the electronic chip
baggy within.
believe you've
was
the head of a
hand trembling, he took the
done
it,
my
We
dear.
spect way, because of the magical laws ... that
on
freely."
smiled. "Very good." His
in the "I
you
to
it
European she thought),
if
had
to ask in such a circum-
you want to
you wouldn't know what we meant but
The
call it .
.
.
'magic'
this
is it,
.
.
this
Pride of Axis Enterprises!"
the right microchip?"
is, I
microchip.
believe, the
And
the only
one
extent. Isn't it?"
With
equal care, he returned the chip to the box, which he slipped into a pocket. "It's
the only one
"Do you
I
this is a magnificent,
She stared
spilled
Father I
see.
.
.
."
to give
Perhaps
"What
He
ful
back.
it it
I
suppose you
Why should
was her expression
deserves
Timothy came
in,
it
know
that
he be
delicate?
that told him.
and some of
it
then—"
flush faced. Jerry wasn't pleased at the in-
cop
here.
I
them you were running
this fantasy
is
safe."
testosterone in the old bastard
terruption. "Jerry—there's a
the porch told
Daddy's
monstrous betrayal of him."
Too much
onto you.
Just then
in
your father so much?
him, amazed by his candor. But he had the thing now,
at
and he wasn't going
"My "Oh
saw
really dislike
guess that kid
who was
sitting
on
a brothel or something."
about prostitution that keeps cropping up? Wish-
thinking?"
"But—" Timothy's voice became a whisper, "—we do have some drugs here." "/ don't.
can't
Bored with them years ago. I'm merely the manager of the
place,
be responsible."
"He
says
you haven't got—" Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
In
"An operator's
license,
the Cornelius Arms
or any sort of business license, for this place,"
He
room.
said the cop, striding into the
was a plainclothes cop with a
middle aged spread, dark aviator glasses and
There was a badge clipped
of sunburnt forehead.
lots
His hand was hooked near the
to his belt.
butt of his gun, visible under his seedy gray blazer, but not threateningly.
He seemed in
not
at all surprised
San Francisco,
you can
find,
after
among
all,
by the strange furnishings: he was a cop
where, under "churches" in the yellow pages,
the usual, the Church of Satan.
He seemed
But there was nothing Satanic about Jerry.
"Oh
dered English businessman.
ments—we'll dig them up for you
The cop was looking
my
any objection to
might be opium
.
.
.
we do
but
have
all
a slightly bewil-
the proper docu-
." .
.
But uh—
at Jerry's cigarette. "Yeah, well, fine.
having a look around? Thought
been a long time since
I
smelled what
smelled that, this side of
I
Chinatown, but—" "That was incense,
officer.
The Goth kids who
frequent
my tacky little
establishment adore incense. They love atmosphere, you see, however artificial.
He
And why not? You'd like one
of these cigarettes. Wouldn't you."
held up the pack.
Well yeah ...
"Do any
Rothman?
frowning, as he stared at the cigarettes. "That a
The cop was
used to smoke those
I
of us
really,
have a Rothman.
Then
though I'll
we
.
.
But
.
gave up smoking."
I
die ten years without a cigarette?
find our
Do
paperwork and you can bust us
to
your heart's content." Jerry took out the pack, took a
moment adjusting the
before extracting one and
fussily,
The cop
shrugged, and, in a
offering
flash,
lit
up and deeply
posed to be smokin' ... so, there's some see
some
His voice was slowing down,
." .
.
battery running
did
." .
eyes;
.
it
.
Then
dovm. "Some
...
I
...
.
.
some
like
D ...
cigarettes rather
to the cop.
it
ID
inhaled.
kids here,
"Not
I'll
sup-
need to
on a player with the Yo, what see some
a tape ...
.
.
.
and so did the consciousness in his stood there like a mannequin, cigarette
his voice trailed away,
seemed
to evaporate.
He
his fingers, staring into space, scarcely breathing.
burning between
as surprised as Beth.
Timothy was
"What happened
to him?" they
asked at once.
"Oh-I had know. It's
Had
a bit of a premonition this morning.
a fag prepared.
treated with barrachera.
Columbia. There for
Good job
two days
.
.
Really, Really,
.
it's
And
A
.
very interesting substance
used chiefly for robbery.
by then of course
Weird Stories
The / Ching don't you I gave him
he accepted the one
it
will
He be
won't come out of
all
over
." .
.
obtained in
I
.
it
119
120 In THE Cornelius
John Shirley
Arms
Timothy looked at him. "What will be?" Beth realized Timothy knew no more than she cop, took the cigarette from his fingers, stubbed pocket.
walked over to the
out in the cop's coat
it
No reaction. He put his mouth close to the cop's ear, and said in
a strangely
one you
monotone
see,
yet powerful voice,
and check
The cop
and go
in,
Go
TV, and report to no one.
"Go
to bed,
to a nice hotel, the
and sleep and
eat
first
and watch
now."
turned, nothing zombielike about
it.
He
simply walked away,
come, went out the door. Through the window they watched
as he'd
him
did.
He
Jerry shrugged. "Musm't spoil the surprise."
get in his car
Beth was amazed building
it
was
in.
and
drive away,
toward the nice
at the size of the ballroom;
But here
hotels.
was
just
too big for the
in the heart of the Cornelius
Arms two hun-
it
dred Goth kids danced a strange waltz to slow industrial music, under black-light chandeliers
and a
ceiling painted, silver
on
black, with the
wicked constellations of the Secret Zodiac.
A tall gaunt Goth boy in a frock coat,
hair piled fantastically atop his
head, plucked eyebrows painted into golden hooks, gold
on
the dead
white of his skin, the lenses of dark glasses glued to his sockets
He bowed
ornately to Beth, requesting a dance; she gave
hand, gloved in old-world black typical
.
.
.
him her
they performed the pas de deux
lace;
of the Clan Sangre, while at the other end of the
room an
ar-
ranged "minimalist choreography" of group-dancers glissandoed and curtseyed obeisance to the Vampire receptionist for a
bank
Queen (whom Beth knew Vampire Queen,
president); the
black and white, raised a
fist
The
it
dirgelike music,
once, heard quite Pierce the flesh
to drip
wig of
to be a scarlet,
overhead and squeezed a concealed
sponge—blood streamed from between her her arm; she allowed
in
fingers
on her dusty white
and
spiraled
down
dress.
from Jerome X, voiced a quatrain
that Beth, for
clearly:
of the darkness
Initiate the night
Elevate to vastness
The echoes of His
And
light:
the light that never
there were strange sparks in the
air,
as sated bats, unfolding, spreading electric
warms
sparks of blue and violet fat
plumage
into
mandalas that
became jellyfish of the ether Has someone slipped me something? Beth wondered. But no one had. It was in the atmosphere. It was .
.
.
.
.
.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
In
the Cornelius Arms
00 00 00
"Computers
in this universe's Earth are so very
much more
sophisti-
cated than in our world of origin, don't you think so Edwige?"
"Eef you say so, Jerry." Jerry was standing at the console, in his penthouse, as the old Bavarian
clock in the arms of the cigar store Indian struck ten P.M.; he was tap-
ping at the keyboard, inserting a disk that would boot up the program capable of activating the macro chip, which had been installed, with
much temple
sweat, but an hour before.
Edwige was wriggling you zeep
"Jerry, will
He
me
into a black Spanish
dress.
up?"
reached over to her with one hand, found the zipper, zipped her
up with one hand without pinching her or
from the computer,
eyes
Flamenco dancer's
as his other
getting stuck, never taking his
hand tapped the keyboard.
"
''Merci.
As
if
this
were some sort of keyword, the computer chose that moment
to complete
its
internal
mumbling, and
adjuncts a three dimensional image of
There was an
attractive
if
was a bald man with a neat tiny
little
in his face
chilly-eyed
projected from .
four
human
woman
its
hologrammic
heads.
with flaxen
hair; there
beard and a large bulbous nose, and
little
you could
was a middle aged man with
thin
scarcely lips,
make out
the features; there
a cocky manner and slicked-back
The heads hovered in the air, in the middle of the room, gazwith self awareness and some degree of consciousness, at Jerry and
black ing
.
was an old man with shaggy white brows and so
eyes; there
many seams
it
.
hair.
Edwige.
"They are rather ugly
yawn with
"We
your
not
Edwige commented, covering a
a pretty litde hand.
are not
mindclones. "If
little spirits,"
self
'spirits',"
And we
said the
woman. "We
.
.
copies.
.
full
self pitying expressions," Jerry
of yourselves,
remarked.
little
are
I'd say,
judging from
"These, Edwige," Jerry
"are the mindclones of the four
Boardmembers of
Axis International, preserved should the originals bite the dust. tawdry, foolish
We
are self aware."
aware, at least rather
went on musingly,
are
attempt at immortality;
it is
It is
their
a forbidden technology,
known and secretly banned, but Axis has chosen to use it any." way. One of these gendemen is our little Beth's father The middle aged man with the slicked back hair said, scowling, "What do you know of my Beth?" secretly
.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
.
121
122 In
THE Cornelius Arms "She's
mine now, old
John Shirley
boy. She hates you,
you know.
It
me
was she gave
the chip." "I
don't believe
"Believe
it!"
you
it,
judgemental about idiosyncratic "I will
Not
child molesting bastard.
transmit a warning to
that I'm really so very
tastes."
my original
about
all
this—"
"Rubbish," Jerry said, lighting a cigarette. "You are mine now. vertical
and the
course,
I
horizontal. I've got you. Just
wanted a
must aid the further convergence of the
ah. You'll see.
Edwige—has
"Yes—everyone
is
lines,
I
control the
test run.
Next, of
and bring about
.
.
the cognitive emulator charged the ballroom.^"
ready."
Beth was surprised to see Morris, the scruffy Goth kid from the front corner of the ballroom, drinking the punch that
steps, standing in a
brimmed
the giant clam shell. "Didn't think they'd
"Scared 'em into
it,"
Morris
said, sniffing.
"Are you," Timothy laughed, getting himself
were shaking. The sizzled
said
about the
electricity in the air
light fixtures. "Jerry
something about taking
pity
on
let
you
in,"
she said.
"I'm from a powerful clan
." .
.
some punch. His hands
sparked from the spoons and
has no fear of you at
in fact.
all,
you were much
you: that
like
He
some-
one he'd known once." Morris frowned and turned toward the dais
end of the
at the fair
room, where suddenly a spotlight found Jerry, sweeping through the tained
doorway
to gaze
down on
cur-
them.
"Light your candles!" he thundered, descending to them.
Life in death
and death
Lady Despair a
in
life
luscious wife
The music intoned with
.
.
.
exquisitely
maudlin excess, the bass beat a
dirge against the walls, the chandeliers swayed, in black capes
and
swirling
gowns and
and scores of Goth kids
spiky lingerie
and bloody tuxedos,
each carrying a blackwax candle, stepped with the grandiosity of fearless innocence, in a slowly circling procession, spiraled negative galaxy, around Jerry the galaxy's core.
ume
as Jerry
like the
arms of a
The music ebbed
spoke into a headset microphone, raising
his
arms
in vollike
a
high priest, Edwige kneeling before him, apparently praying.
"Hear
me
vampire
clans!
psychic wars! Another time
now
I
I
You
see
me now
was a vampire of
merely borrow, and focus and return
the veteran of a thousand sorts,
all
to
a drinker of energies;
you transformed: For
Really, Really,
I
Weird Stories
John Shirley
In
the Cornelius Arms
fought the law and the law won! Jerry has changed! Jerry has learned to
much
nourish as
as
he
is
nourished!
And
if I
have used you, brought you
my own purposes, I have
here to be living generators of psychic energy for also given
you orchids
sliding
on
a subterranean
river; I
have given you the
pulse of blood in clitoris and throat—"
They roared approval
at that one.
on the
"—I have given you Antarctic moonlight
have given you lightning in a coffee cup!
I
frozen bones of a mariner!
I
have given you heavy metal, black
and silver! I have given you fireflies in the sockets of a skull! I have given you the whisper of
silk
over cobblestones!
coffins that bring safety for white! /
And
at
and
solace!
I
have given you a dream of velvet lined
I
have given you white for black and black
have given you a Mardi Gras of the Necropolis ofJoy!"
each phrase he
made
a pass over the
Goth
kids with something
that glittered—something that looked like a long platinum needle in a daggerhilt
of figured ruby; something that was both machine and decorative ornate
knife.
Subde energies coursed
length.
its
Beth, with Morris at her side, approached the center of the living gal-
axy of dark celebrants, and could not take her eyes from the platinum
and ruby instrument
And And
in Jerry's
hand—
in his other hand he held the Macrochip—
then he put the two of them together and—
She heard help, love.
Magic
is
redefined.
longer states or even relationships
'Thank you very much for all your The nuclei of the modern world are no
his voice in her head.
cities,
but interkcings of information, the matrixed
buy andsell-what we call multinational
of the capacities to
corporations. For
my long range purpose,
I
have to have one, have to be
And I do
intend to be real in
this
enough of this world's imagination ..." world. I've had -and the instruments touched, and a blaze of headess light spread
out,
one, to be real in this world,
you
see.
quite
rippling in a circle
Edwige
from the contact
in a ball of translucent
of energy and grabbed Morris. find a place for
bubble of
you ..." And
light,
panded and
filled
the
room
They were wandering
encompassing Jerry and
pulled Morris, "Prince Dreybak", into the
which wobbled, once, and,
fusion, the fusion of being
just
before midnight, ex-
inexorably with the white incandescence of
and nonbeing.
in aimless circles in the darkness of a socket of
earth; in the smell of a
pipes.
point,
He reached through the membrane ''Come my woebegone little urchin, I'll
light.
new
grave, of
soil,
sliced
earthworms and rusty
The daze slowly seeped away from Beth, and she
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
realized she
was
123
124 In THE Cornelius
cold.
Her
a sort of
eyes
John Shirley
Arms
came
something
into
focus and she found she was in
like
between two old San Francisco buildings. There was
pit,
enough urban
light to see
an old, disused concrete
way up it. Beth slogged through the cold mud,
were already working
staircase.
The
just
others
their
shivering,
head aching, trying to
remember. Jerry had taken the boy Morris and Edwige and the three of
them had vanished and gone She climbed the
.
.
.
reached the
stairs,
The Cornelius Arms was gone. socket.
its
A
water.
scores of
Goth
and turned around.
out
like a
tooth from
up from the mud, one of
else.
kids stood in the midst of the street, staring
stunned
She and Timothy had been on the
How unreal
glass buildings
it
and
silent, as
fog rolled
all
and
Don Johnson TV
my parents," Timothy
"You'll like
train
night;
looked in the morning
pastel murals
something from that old
Now
lifted
down
si-
the street
wave, and engulfed them.
San Diego.
and
street, crossed,
had been
There was nothing
lently at the pit in the earth,
in a gray
It
few wayward pipes draggled
them spouting
And
where?
they're in real estate.
it
just pulling into
with
mission-style
its
to
palm
trees
Old Town;
show. No, that was
"They used
said.
was
light,
like
Mami.
be in rock bands.
But they're pretty cool. They smoke pot, but
not every day." In the train station Beth found herself
She had
just
right away. .
.
.
enough change
for the
drawn
to a
newspaper
San Diego paper. She saw
Scanning lower she found
Will be officially designated the
.
.
kiosk.
his picture
.
new CEO of Axis Enterprises,
Fri-
Company spokesmen said that the four members of the Axis board, who were killed in a plane crash at Sunday midnight, made extensive arrangements for the new CEO to replace them in case of emergency. Industry sources are calling Jerry Cornelius the "Unknown day morning.
Tycoon", claiming that his business history
However, Axis public
is
foggy
and
unverifiable.
relations expects Cornelius' transition to
power to
be "very nearly seamless ..." "Is that really
"Yes.
Magic
him?" Timothy asked, looking over her shoulder.
is
redefined, he said."
"There was a plane crash? Wasn't that-?
"My
father. Yes.
wonder what
I'll
My
"
father died in the plane crash." She smiled. "I
inherit.
Come
on,
let's
get a latte."
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Quill Tripstickler,
Out the Window
"There are a variety of terms
Commissioner ring to
Feldspar. "But
I
might appropriately apply here," said
stumblebum has
think oafish
I
the right
it."
Quill cleared his throat. "Yes,
Actually,
sir.
I
think honest misjudgment
by a loyal—'
"And yet," Feldspar went stumblebum hasn't the proper for.
have
I
it!
Bumbling
Bumbling Clod. At "Yes,
if
he
hadn't
more
piquancy. Something it!
heard, basic
''oafish is
called
You, Quill Tripstickler, are a
best."
He winced when he heard Feldspar's pet He despised poultry—the profusion of poul-
said Quill meekly.
sir,"
the one remaining sort of domestic animal in the twenty-fifth century,
was the bane of Earth, and to his
was
as
clodl That's
duck snickering in the corner. try,
on,
home
in the stars—there
a desk operative,
made sisted,
how
it
made
He
Quill wish he hadn't
come back
Galactic Tourist Agency, his duty
were some things a
seemed.
it
almost
As an agent of the
planet.
field
agent could not explain to
should never have returned. Should have
the report by tachyon transmish. But Father Tripstickler had
and
Quill
stood in fear of that fearsome patriarch. That's
still
Quill thought of his father, except that he thought
PATRIARCH. And
seemed then
it
Father Tripstickler's
ovm
that Feldspar
spirit— Quill's father
but that didn't prevent him
liberally
about—when he thundered: "And
I
you and your robot,
word with
glee
is
FEARSOME
had been possessed by
was by no means deceased,
spreading his Spirimal Influence
want you
of that snooty cybernetic valet of yours. In the pacemaker. Yours
it:
in-
just
to
fact, I
know
I
don't think
much
think robots are a pain in
always complaining. Well, I'm going to be rid of
Tripstickler. You're
and with the
slap of his
He
emphasized the
glass
desk (which was
both firedr
palm on the
also a miniature
henhouse—Feldspar's house was crowded).
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Quill
opened
126 Quill Tripstickler,
his
mouth
Out the Window But Feldspar, shaking
to protest.
narrowed, bulled on:
John Shirley his jowls, his
"How do you excuse going
dim blue
and prompdy seducing the queen's parthenogenic
celibates
eyes
to a colony of religious
and
child
nearly starting an intersteller war?
How in Tallahassee Rorida the princess
human
is
could find a
Did you
platypus like yourself attractive
erotigas her? Is that
"Erotigas? Certainly not,
it,
sir! I
duction and Erotic Conduct,
"human
use of the term
And,
hold Winner's Ribbons in
sir!"
Quill
classes of Se-
all
was deeply offended by
yes,
it
Feldspar's
was oddly proportioned.
platypus." True, Quill
he had a large nose. Well,
true,
beyond me.
quite
hm?"
was a very
His
large nose.
long neck, weak chin, large spreading nose—which inelegant dullards sisted
And
on
in-
beak—gave him a slightly duck-like appearance. evolved ducks had become so common, some oaf
referring to as a
since cerebrally
was always drawing the comparison. Gangly, gawky, pout-lipped, beaked as
he was,
still
Quill refused a body-rebuild. Strangely, he firmly believed
he was Devilishly Handsome.
that
He ran a hand through his thin brown curls and tried to "My
of reasonableness.
assume a tone
assignment, Commissioner Feldspar, was to
introduce tourism into the planet Nunneras. tion to undertake, since the
Nunnerans
It
was a
difficult negotia-
believe that a offworlders are of
needed someone on the
inside to suggest to the
Satanic origin.
I
queen that she
trust
bold steps,
And, to be perfectly honest, the princess seduced
naturally
sir.
turned
I
do so—until
my life
.
.
felt 1
me.
this
A Galactic Tourist Agent must occasionally take
intimacy to the
the queen discovered that
good of .
.
well,
.
Or
the agency.
me—
sought to
barely escaped with
sir, I
I—"
.
"Oafish stumblebum." Feldspar's body-rebuilt face had badly gone to sag;
it
Nero.
was supposed
And now
invectives
came
"Moronic
.
.
like
."
to resemble Julius Caesar, but
was bright red with
it
fury.
it
more
"Bumbling
.
.
closely befit ."
Feldspar's
the rumbles of a volcano building to eruption.
He drew
a deep breath for:
stumbling
''Oafish
bumbling CLOD!" As
Quill left the
room
... as Quill beat
it
hastily
from the room.
Feld-
spar sent his oversized (bigger than two fat geese together) pet duck to chivvy him.
Ducks had always provoked
in Quill a thrill
of revulsion.
He
ran from the house, the duck quacking at his heels, snapping at his ankles, squawking,
"Quan quon't quaum
Quill sat in the cool dimness of
quack!'"'"
The Terminus.
It
was a
suicide bar,
designed to appeal to those surfeited with existential ennui. '"'
Translation from the duck argot of Quill's time: "And don't
come
And
it at-
back!"
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Quill Tripstickler,
tracted the victimizjers, a breed of bar-haunter
Out the Window
emerged
accommodate
to
those preferring to die at another's hands.
From somewhere droned dolorous sigh harmonizing with
the bartender (whose
funereal muzak. Quill sighed, his
numerous other
lifelike
"For the moment, nontoxic.
I'll
The bartender nodded and
asked the bartender.
sir?"
have a Cable
TV Cocktail."
caressed a keyboard.
wire affixed to
slot in the bar, a
he signaled
black eyes seemed forever sympathetic and
welling with tears). "Toxic or nontoxic,
from a
sighs along the bar,
the glass contained a tiny three-dee image of a ledge, about to leap into oblivion, as a
A
emerged
glass
underside, the green liquid in
its
crowd
man
at
poised on a
window
nearby windows begged
him to reconsider. Quill sighed, and sipped. The drink tasted of liquor, mint— and blood mixed with concrete, plus a suggestion of sweat. There was, too, a savor of distilled desperation.
"Master QuiU?"
He knew whose
Quill winced.
ignore
Perhaps
it.
it
But Fives cleared
was
voice he
hearing.
He
preferred to
would go away. he made a noise that was
his throat—more accurately,
a theatrical approximation of throat clearing since he hadn't a throat to clear.
me
Robots have no need of an esophagus. "Master
me
sent
to
to seek you.
He
bids you to 'buck
remind you of that immemorial
Quill,
up and take
Tripstickler
down he can
is
"Then you may up, drink them,
always take heart/he
words,
his start.' Stirring
may
sir, if I
say so.
and gag on them.
TV
twisting the
knob on
Cocktail.
He
I'll
asked Say-
'When a
Trip-
knows that his end is Words that stir the—"
really
take those words," Quill said miserably, "and
of his Cable
He
aphorism— from
ings of Father Tripstickler, Selection Ninety-six— to wit: stickler
your father
heart.'
drink to that."
stir
them
He took another sip
frovmed and changed the taste-channel,
the side of the glass.
The image
in the liquid
swirled, blurred, changed, reforming into a troupe of briefly clad danc-
ing
girls.
Quill tasted the drink
But he couldn't smile.
had paid been
for his
He was
two years
costly training.
and almost smiled.
And
Starcruiser (second-hand).
ruined. His father
at the Tourist his father
A
had believed
Agent Training School.
had bought him
fine gesture
in him,
his
own
It
had
Agent's
from a Grand Old Man. And
had given him Fives "Meddling Old Fool," Quill murmured, frowning.
his father
"I
.
beg your pardon,
"Nothing
when
I
." .
have
.
let
Really, Really,
sir?" Fives
Quill sighed. "I
.
.
asked
am an ingrate.
him down. After
Weird
Stories
softly, rolling nearer.
all
he's
done
Calling for
my father names, me through
me. Put
127
128 Quill Tripstickler,
school—and
agent's
come
now I'm
its effect.
He
fired."
John Shirley took a long
pull at his drink
and
alcohol and opiate in the drink was beginning
The combination
blinked. to have
Out the Window
"My whole
down
career
the Disposetron
.
.
Well, I've
.
here to find Peace."
"Surely not, Master Quill!" Fives rocked back
simulated (or
was
it
gentle reproach. Fives
He
wheel
in
head
in
lifelike
styled to resemble, from the waist up, an Gendeman's Gentleman. He rarely removed
the black bowler hat—which was
head.
his single
was
early twentieth century
British-style
on
astonishment, shaking his
real?)
pinched
more than
it
seemed— from
his florid synthaflesh
nose
one of the charming personality gestures the brochure on
round
his
in
dismay-
this
model
quizzically. The quizzical programmed charming personality
robot had listed— and arched his eyebrows arching of eyebrows was another gesture. Quill didn't find
charming.
it
And somehow he
sensed Fives'
went beyond programming. The robot had a number of annoying habits all his own invention. For example, his way of hooking
personality
a lifelike single
thumb
wheel
in his waistcoat
at the
bottom of
watch pocket, straightening on the
his inverted-cone
brushed-aluminum un-
dersides, tugging the tails of his coat-and-tails with his other hand,
causing his
brown
eyes to sparkle, his ruddy English cheeks to
become
ruddier, as. he recited:
"A Tripstickler looks to see who's Before he loosens his
downwind
belt;
He thinks of others before himself Of their skins before his own pelt." Quill "I
winced
"Do you "I
again. "Don't
beg your pardon,
mean,
Quill's
misery.
think I'm blind? sir—do
that, Fives.
I
saw the
sir.
it
torment me."
to
sign. It's
his expression
this
is.'^"
The Terminus." this is?"
maudlin
in
its
celebration of
a suicide bar."
"But Master Quill—The Terminus
don,
You do
you know what sort of bar
nod was somber,
"It's
do
Master Quill— do you know which bar
sir.
One
goes to such a place
.
is .
."
a pick-up bar, begging your parFives looked furtively
around
at
gloomy bar and lowered his voice. "... One meet someone. A partner. Someone to kill one-
the other denizens of the
comes
to such a place to
self with.
Or someone
"I'm aware of here a victim.
all
to
do
the deed.
And
there are those
that," said Quill in a voice
A voluntary victim,
who—"
awry with drink.
seeking a ... a victimizer."
Really, Really,
"I
He
came
sniffed
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Quill Tripstickler,
(the sniff reverberated in the voluminous
down
looked up and
the bar as
if
Out the Window
echochamber of
his nose)
and
pondering the options.
The shadowy chamber was hung with black translucent scarves. Over the bar was a human skull, fleshless except for two heavy-lidded eyes leaking tears.
The
figures at the bar
in every
man
were studies
in quiet misery. Self-pity
There were those, however, standing against the walls ers,
spoke
itself
or woman's body language.
whose red-glowing
in
gloomy corn-
cocktails signified their preference: they
were
victimizers, licensed, looking for voluntary victims.
One
of them was looking Quill up and down.
His smile showed shark's. Quill
.
femitaur once before, at
odd
a
tastes in
.
.
were
lovely.
But she was two
feet of her front set of legs
boned black-maned head. He had only seen a the Conference on Interdimensional Travel.
had found them quite
"You've got
like
then he saw her.
four-footer. All four of her feet
to the top of her delicately
Quill
And
measuring from the spike-heeled
tall,
sharp rows
some of the victimizers were cannibals. The do as they pleased with the bodies
that
Quill looked hurriedly away.
meters
smiling.
his teeth. Big teeth, rebuilt in three
had heard
law gave them the right to
She was a
And
attractive,
women,
thing—about the sweep of the
much
to the
dismay of
Tripstickler," they'd said.
lovely, quite
his peers.
But some-
human, womanly upper
half
of the femitaur, the curve of that back arcing neatly into the equine
lower back
.
.
.
something
horse and woman woman's legs (woman's .
.
for the small flickering
.
in the perfect
legs, horse's torso,
tail)
and the
rives
.
.
.
.
human
feminine derriere but
fine black felt-like fur beginning just
beneath the upper waist ... the antelope's breasts, the oval eyes
melding of the back parts of
something about her two pairs of shapely
tail
.
.
.
the pointed, upturned
.
.
"Sir?"
"Did you, ah, notice the femitaur
in the corner, Fives?
here. Notice the red-glow drink in her hand.
"A splendid example of her But something in the way she perfectly
species, is
sir.
.
.
Is
Lovely large
perusing you,
The only
alien
she not lovely?"
sir,
brown
strikes
me
eyes,
sir.
as-to be
candid— hungry."
"Women
of
all
persuasions look at
me
garish urbanity, hobbling his eyebrows
hungrily. Fives," said Quill with
and
his crab-apple
lump of an
Adam's apple, "for I am 'one who is catnip to women.'" Do you read the ancient writers. Fives? That's Mencken. And look at her! The sweep of Really, Really,
Weird Stories
129
Out the Window
130 Quill Tripstickler,
her back, her upper back at a
Her
John Shirley
ninety-degree angle from her lower.
strict
quivering, perfect—"
"Begging, your pardon,
sir,
but don't you think we'd best exeunt?
you are to convince Commissioner Feldspar to
If
you a second
give
chance, you must—"
would take a
"It's useless. Fives. It
coup
in Galactic Tourist Agenting."
miracle.
Once
needs a legend-making
It
again Quill was plunged into
gloom. "Suicide then, tain
Very good,
sir?
employment
alternatives
As you
sir.
open
to
me
I
say.
I
suppose there are
"I'm going to get drunk," Quill interrupted, "and then
manfully up to her, and ask her— nay,
me
kill
.
.
.
You know
Fives, I've
universe in which the femitaurs
I
shall
heard that to
live is to
lent to
me. Ah!
story goes that
How
shall stride
I
implore her poetically— to travel into the alternate
embrace death.
the death that one embraces, then that embrace
fies
cer-
could explore. In fact—"
If
she personi-
no longer
is
despair infuses the soul with poetry!
Ah
.
repel.
the
.
one steps into the transporter and emerges into
their
world, gasping with disbelief at the beauty beheld there— this by neu-
back
trino transmission devices the explorer carries, sending messages
he goes— ah, as
as
death.
If
I
said,
I
he gasps
at the
beauty and explodes! Instant
could find a way to take tourists to the world of the
femitaurs, safely,
I
would be a legend among tourist agents The seem confused when trying to explain the pheown inter-dimensional transport. No one has yet .
.
.
femitaurs themselves
nomena and
their
fathomed them; they us but
we cannot
derstandable. There
and
talk cryptically of
them
visit is
.
.
If
she
is
we speak
tangled his feet trying to recover. oafish stumblebum," Quill
visit
Un-
rarely.
is
universally under-
flourish,
some
waving
invisible
his
hand
in the
audience of ad-
together."
He
murmured
He
stumbled into Fives and
pitched to his muzzily.
belly.
"Umph
.
"Bumbling clod of a
.
.
ro-
smmbling—
The man with
the large teeth, drawing a cloak of flayed
about him, strode to
my
They can
here, in a suicide bar, then the language of
turned to reel toward the femitaur.
bot. Oafish
.
.
They come here
.
over his head, drunkenly orating to
mirers, "—is the language
He
.
a communication gap between the femitaurs
death—" Quill spoke with a dramatic
ally
Itself
ourselves. But the language of death. Fives,
stood everywhere.
air
Death
man," he
Quill's side,
said,
bending to
assist
him
human
skin
to his feet. "Re-
"you ought to find a better way to off yourself
than stumbling to death."
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley "Not usedtuh Cabbie
.
Quill said, sitting heavily
"The best way "is at
.
cobble
.
on a
.
.
cubical
.
I
to say, ah
else,"
the dark
no
Take
it
"Chalky? like
man went on. "Somewhere
realistic
outside!
rather think, that
is,
private."
that
is
to
man whose
taste runs to
The dark man's hands
closed round fin-
wheezed.
head, shaped
Meet 'em
up from the other end
Gary Gilmore's
like
"No
for historical
suiciding or victimizing in the
here but don't eat 'em here!"
you?" Fives asked, bending toward the bartender. "Sounds
your voice. They haven't altered
Good
"I
said the robot bartender, rolling
Is that
arm
"Trust me."
glittered.
"You are a
atmosphere, shook disapprovingly. bar!
placed an
hard-muscled hands with black-painted
Quill's throat. Long-fingered,
gernails tightened. Quill
"Here now!"
He
.
public self-destruction. Charming!"
of the bar. His
be quick-but
fee. It will
artful."
." .
said the victimizer,
see,''
I
TV Cocktails,"
Cable
dry.
think not," said Quill politely.
mean
"Oh,
was
go somewhere
"Oh—I say,
His red eyes
Quill's shoulders.
"We'll
.
to die," said the swarthy stranger with a wolfish smile,
the hands of an expert. There will be
Quill's throat
.
.
barstool.
poignant. Painless-but evocative. Firm-but
about
Out the Window
Quill Tripstickler,
that.
But
this distasteful
new head—"
Got a new gig, I see! Valet? Yes, it's me. Say, Fives old man, whatever happened with that job you had pretending to admire people wdth inferiority complexes for some therapeutic clinic—?" "A curious story, that one," said Fives, "Beginning some years ago on "Fives!
to see you!
the Beauty Spa planet Aphrodite—" "Fives!" Quill called hoarsely, clawdng to izer
from
The
his throat. "Help!"
neck across the floor toward the door
He
the floor.
pry the hands of the victim-
victimizer
have to attend to
this,
that lovely self-lubricator
'*Fivesr Quill
a corpse
.
.
was blacking
Chalky.
He
turned to the bar-
The young master has .
.
.
But,
you used to have
out, felt himself
towed
tell
a
way of
me, what be-
." .
.
as
if
he were already
.
"Release this one."
A strange, melodious voice. "He and
an agreement of intersecting gazes. Quill looked up, blinking legs
be right there. Ran into
I'll
his shoulder.
getting himself throttled at regular intervals
came of
by the
scraped
struggled feebly.
an old friend here," he called over "I'll
Quill
of the bar. Quill's heels
"What's that? Oh, a moment. Master Quill,
tender.
was dragging
away a red
upholding the femitaur
Really, Really,
He
who now
Weird Stories
is
I
have a pact:
mine."
fog, to see the four pairs of lady
stood beside him. Her hooves
131
132 Quill Tripstickler,
grew
Out the Window
John Shirley
naturally to resemble black spike heels.
made an from
expectorant sound, wheezed, and
was with one of these
The man
air
and reached
victimizer stood, snarling,
back, fingers unwrapping
fell
gulped
Quill's throat. Gratefully, Quill
The
It
her back, she kicked the victimizer in his gut.
that, turning
and got
for a
to his feet.
weapon beneath
his
cloak.
A black bowler hat, of blue light from
its
descending from the shadowy
silk-lined interior.
knees buckled, and he
fell
The Victimizer's
from the
"I'm grateful,
said,
my lady,"
"My lady,
I
like
who
trying
flourish.
will give his
wind through the
life.
One
spires of
have been dishonored with
yours to do with as you
unfearing death," she
another world.
failure.
My life is nothing. am I
will."
me
liana.
Come."
liana led
them
into the street;
"Call
Chalky
and
said Quill, pointedly ignoring Fives
bowing with a
have need of one her voice
my lad,"
paralyzer, Fives
bar.
to regain his dignity, "I
eyes crossed, his
heavily to the floor, unconscious.
"You were always a mean shot with a called
a bolt
ceiling, fired
all
were
careful to step
on
the supine
victimizer.
Quill turned to Fives. "Fives,
you
He
voice broke.
my
"Send cover
sniffed
and pretended
body. Fives, to
me with nodes
my
fruitful.
I
suppose
I
.
and wrap
me
all
in black silks, ."
of onyx and, stones from the deeps of the sea
rather thought
I
His
."
.
sternness.
father,
For some minutes they endured one of Quill's orations, in. "Actually, sir, I
How-
are a disrespectful bounder.
our association has on occasion been
ever,
.
.
broke
until Fives
might send the body to Nunneras."
"What?" "Well, best to recall that the
and he
will
make
the
most of a sad
duty,
And
sir.
it
Nunnerans have a legend. 'One from the
be rebuked.
He
shall find death,
and he
seems to
stars will
me
I
come,
will return
from
search you asked
Word of a new age and a new Way.' Part of the reme to do on Nunneras, Master Quill. We could send
them your body,
explain that you had killed yourself because you had
death, bringing his
'converted' to their religion; your suicide faith
.
.
.
'back to
and perhaps we could arrange life'
with a hologram
which the backward, advise
them
atavistic
.
.
act of
martyrdom and
to create an illusion, bringing
you
The hologram— a technology with
Nunnerans
that the time has
from other worlds.
.
was an
come
to
are unfamiliar—would naturally
open
their planet to travelers
We don't have to call them tourists— pilgrims! And—" Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley "Just
Quill Tripstickler,
how would
Why would you state that a if
my
are merely
assistant.
once I'm dead?"
this,
new among
looked apologetic. "The
Fives
You
this serve you, Fives?
engineer
Out the Window
robot can become,
equal rights for robots laws,
sir,
other things, a free tourist agent,
he proves that—"
"Why-! Of all the-!
perfecdy ghoulish! Using my dead body
Fives, that's
make a career for yourself." He put an affectionate hand on Fives'
to
On
the
way
to the corner they encountered a
dozen pet owners,
ostentatiously walking their poultry. Quill wrinkled his
three people looked
shoul-
something from our association, old boy."
der. "I see you've learned
up when he did
this,
since his nose
nose— two or
was prodigious,
the wrinkling seeming to profoundly revise a major feature of the street's architecmre.
"Oh,
it's
man
just a nose," said a fat
walking a duck.
thought they
"I
were tearing down a building—" "Your duck," said
Quill, "is offensive to
me. The animals are
loath-
some." They walked on, side-stepping outsized ducks, chickens, geese,
and an occasional
turkey,
leashed.
all
The squawking and
cackling
com-
peted with the noise of breezecars whining by on their sparkling mag-
The moraines of duck droppings
netic fields.
contrasted with the clean
planes of glassteel comprising the buildings around them. Someone's
duck tugged
its
sively at Quill,
snapped
It
from the roboserv walking
leash
squawking "Quey!
I
quot
I
it
and waddled
aggres-
quold choo kwuh queat
at Quill's ankles. Quill kicked at
it,
and
it
it!"
fluttered aside,
squalling. lessons." Quill said, addressing the duck. "Try saying
"You need diction it
again, like this: 'Hey!
duck
again,
"Menace
which ran
I
thought
I
told
fear not,
sir,"
you to beat
to the protection of
to the public health," Quill
sioner Feldspar's duck. Fives.
be
I
Why
its
kicked at the
hourglass-shaped roboserv.
murmured
don't you see
said Fives politely.
He
it!'"
"That's
bitterly. if
you can run
Commisit
over?"
"Commissioner Feldspar may soon
my employer."
Quill groaned.
He
turned to liana. "Have you ducks in your plane of
reality?"
She smiled and shook her head, paused to rub one of her four
hooved one, "It
we
feet
on
another, her
tail
have no giant talking ducks, nor ducks of any
wasn't always
now, the imbroglio
like this, liana," Quill said.
in
spike-
flouncing merrily. "Fortunately, brave
He
sort."
was
The Terminus had sobered him
striding steadily
up. "But because
of a peculiar ecological imbalance, the only domestic animals which
Really, Really,
Weird
Stories
re-
133
134 Quill Tripstickler,
main an Earth
Out the Window
are poultry. Cats
John Shirley
and dogs once were populous, but when
they evolved and gained self-awareness, they killed one another off in wars.
And
pure and
the cockroaches exterminated the
simple.
mannered,
somehow
I
A
cockroach ghettos.
I
know a little
to the
you know.
matriarchy,
we might take
myself right away,
kill
opposed
better at four feet high as
ones. Interesting culmre they have. haven't got to
es-
look upon, of course, although they dress well. But
them
like
mild-
and unthreatened. They're not
as long as they're well-fed
thetically pleasing to
of course. Genocide,
rats,
no complaint with cockroaches. They're
I've
Still,
If,
little
ah,
I
a detour through the
sidewalk stand where they
sell
marvel-
ous grub-excretion patties—"
"No,
we
will
be
late for
my brave
the gateway,
one," said liana, caress-
ing Quill's cheek with one of her long six-fingered hands. "Better
cockroach ghettos, no matter
side-traipse into
how
we
not
picturesque, coura-
geous one." "Your form of address celebrated in myths
mean
my courage is
and—"
"Indeed," Fives put "I
appropriate," said Quill. "Since
is
in, "it is
mythical."
to say," Quill said hastily, glaring at Fives, "that
it is
the stuff of
when the strongest of men wonunknown is wisest. There is more
legends. But of course there are times
der
if
plunging thoughtlessly into the
than a
modicum
of
wisdom
in the expression, 'discretion
is
the better
part of valor.'" "Is that
the expression,
asked as
sir?" Fives
if
genuinely perplexed.
thought the expression was something to do with 'cold liana turned her lovely
do not intend Quill took a ." .
.
it. I
to seek
head to gaze
feet.'"
"You mean you
at Quill quizzically.
honor and peace
in death?"
deep breath. "Ah. But of course, of course,
He closed his eyes. And shrugged. "Very well. cannot face my father after my disgrace."
They had come
"I
to a busy intersection.
It
I
however, ah
Let us have done with
was a truck
route.
Huge
gray-
metal and plastiflex-jointed freight trucks-growled along on blue-sparking magnetic fields. Except for the lack of wheels and diesel, semi-trucks
had not changed
significantly since the twentieth
quintessentially brutish. Quill
still
swallowed hard and took a step back from
the curb. "liana you don't propose to liana
cenmry. They were
was gazing down the long
?" .
.
street to the right, searchingly, as
if
looking for just the proper truck. "There!" she exclaimed. "That one will piece from a
slit
in the skin
between her
do
nicely. Yes."
She took a time-
breasts. "Fifty seconds," she said.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley "A
Quill Tripstickler,
religious ritual,
assume," said Quill aside to Fives. "She has to
I
me in accordance with the He chewed at a thumbnail. you?" She
"Kill
Out the Window
mrned
to Quill. "I too shall die.
We
together."
"Both of us?" Quill was both saddened and heartened. He looked at the trucks; they were like organized avalanches.
He
considered.
we
looked away. "Perhaps
ment haven and reconsider our course
He
kill
proper astrological conjunction, perhaps."
He
should go into yon refresh-
." .
.
turned to go.
She took him by the hand and stepped Quill with her.
The
truck bore mightily
in front of a truck, dragging
down on them,
unable to stop in
time, blasting out a warning. "Ah, well," Quill said at the last
moment,
He
glimpsed
"better death than to live in a worid infested with ducks." Fives
waving
The
his
bowler hat goodbye
truck hit them.
It
made them
.
.
.
broken, battered things.
Quill Tripstickler, run over by a truck.
The somber procession wound Pious, the capital of Nunneras.
way through
its
the garlanded streets of
On one side were the Nunneras men wear-
ing their long-skirted nun's habits, groaning as they lashed themselves with penitati
heads bowed.
flails,
Nunneras
women
(the
On
the other side of the street were the
two genders kept always
to their
own
sides of the
street
and
to their special dormitories, lest they should brush elbows or
come
into
some other heinous
physical contact) in black-leather priest's
cassocks. Everyone native to Nunneras, excepting the royal family,
removed.
their lips
It
was a
city
had had
of enforced grimaces.
But in splendid disavowal of soberness the famous Nunneras Gardens,
means of
the population's only sanctioned
to either side of every street, in the
walks and the roughly
Some subde
built
dorm
life-expressiveness,
buildings.
some
of the flowers were huge and gaudy,
in shadings of hue, they
as genitals.
and—not
atmosphere— designs which an
Here and
objective eye
there topiaries of blue-green
bloom, with species
Fives, riding
on
and
exquisitely
surprisingly in the suppres-
riotous display. Nunneras' temperate climate ers to
small
twined and bunched and waved in rows,
arabesques, geometrical intricacies sive social
bloomed
narrow plots between the wooden
alternating,
all
made
would recognize
added it
dignity to the
possible for flow-
year round.
the center float of the procession beside the glass cas-
ket containing Quill's body, observed the gardens with pleasure. His optical filters
were opened wide,
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
his olfactory sensors
were
fully dilated.
135
Out the Window
136 Quill Tripstickler,
John Shirley
On the flower-encrusted float ahead of Fives,
in papal robes
and
glori-
ously the centerpiece of a purple whiskerbloom floral arrangement, sat
Queen CoUana and her daughter were
They were not
Enrilla.
both
lipless;
cloudy-haired and lithesomely personable. Enrilla looked un-
tall,
comfortable in her ermine robes—it was a hot day—as she turned in her
and cosmetically
gilded chair to stare wistfully at the supine quite dead)
body of
Quill Tripstickler.
daughter; Enrilla turned away.
The queen frowned
The two
figures
rebuilt (but
sternly at her
swayed with the march-
ing rhythm of the littermen bearing them. Fives too turned to sadly contemplate the
He
took
little
satisfaction in his
have admitted as
much
body of
his erstwhile master.
He would
impending promotion.
to Quill, but he
wished
his
master
never
alive.
On the front end of the casket hung a huge placard containing a testimonial to QuiU, cunningly scribed with
marshblossom
petals, scarlet against white:
A SATANIC CHILD OF EARTH FOUND FAITH FAR FROM NUNNERAS
AND GAVE HIS LIFE IN MARTYRDOM AND PERFECT CONTRIHON, SEEKNG REPENTANCE. E^ DEATH HE IS REDEEMED. "Blessed are the self-destructive," Fives murmured, "for they are harmless to
the State."
Nunneras had been death. Fives
learned to
lie
far
from
Quill's
moment of his But somehow he had
thoughts at the
had not been programmed
to
lie.
beautifully.
Quill sat up, smiling.
He
looked around.
About him and
He
felt
giddy and clean and new.
He was
stretched radial avenues of blue-green grass, neatly clipped,
thickly twining jade-colored le^fy vines.
The
vines clung thickly to
colonnades, and to columns supporting the grass-draped only
relief
new.
from the green color-scheme was
thin streams of sparkling blue water.
The
in the
place
was
ceiling.
The
white columns and like
a vast cathedral
inwardly coated with greenery, with six hallways extending in spokes
from the center-sward. The center-sward was occupied only by Quill and liana. liana
got to her four feet and, in her peculiar way, stretched.
"Even the
ceiling,"
blades of grass hung
Quill said wonderingly, looking up. like
mermaid's hair
in the mist
The long
from the narrow
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Quill Tripstickler,
down
waterfalls tinkling
Nunneras?
Bending to
tear handfuls of grass,
thoughtfully, liana
yours.
here and there.
a garden planet, and this
It's
." .
.
"Tliis
is
raised to her lips
There was a note of sadness
is
You
Not
life,
in
shuddered.
come
to die to
not the
is
here,
my
afteriife,
our variant
is
you are not dead. brave Quill.
It is
another space-time continuum, after the radical transition
resembling Death. Truly, you
a dead
left
body behind on
is
an exact copy of the one
left
Earth. But the
you— the body you
InterEarth transportation process did not destroy
now inhabit
He
you mean. This
in the sense
And though you had
are not disembodied. This
your
force."
the Afterworld?"
"Afterworld? Paradise?
of Earth.
parallel to
in her voice.
we not dead? I remember
and with great
that the truck struck us squarely
and chewed
my world. A world
"Your world?" Quill was surprised. "But-are
"This, then,
we-are we on the planet
a marvelous garden."
which she
shook her head.
A lovely worid
"7\re is
Out the Window
behind. Even your clothes—
everything within your bioplasmic field has been copied, reconstituted, into an identical vehicle, for your consciousness." Quill looked quite sure?
in the finest
"You
down
at himself. "I
am
the same?
Nothing but an exact duplicate
way of
body you now
inhabit,
my world
I
.
.
.
to this
was made
do—"
newer. Your consciousness, your this
was transmitted
by means of neutrino interpenetration
Quill struggled to understand.
from
a hair amiss? You're
you know.
the finest stuff—nothing but the finest will
are precisely the same. Simply
memories, the sum of your personality—all the
Not
will do,
"Death—death
the
is
here, to ." .
.
means of
travel
Other Earth?"
"Only certain deaths.
It
must occur
with the right means. Most deaths
in the right place, at the right time,
will
launch you into the plane of the
disembodied. Die at the proper time and place-and you arrive here.
Now and
then one of your people stumbles through, to a
new body
au-
tomatically awaiting them; they are channeled by certain magnetic polarities to this spot, this
right death.
They had
charging elephant Quill
reception
blundering into our worid via the
inadvertently stepped in front of the right truck or
." .
was dazed.
.
"I
remember no
"There was no pain—because nervous system
hall,
at the last
I
pain."
held your hand.
those of us specializing in transition have learned
"But-what of those who were destroyed on
"They came through an
wrong means. The Really, Really,
I
moment and dampened
took control of your your pain.
It is
a
skill
." .
.
their arrival here?"
electronic Interdimensional Breacher.
The
dimensional dynamics will not allow this means for
Weird Stories
137
138
Quill Tripstickler,
Out the Window
John Shirley
the transition between your world and mine. the right channels or not at
They must come through
."
all
.
.
"But why?"
"Why is trail?
it
when you
that
step off a
cliff,
you
fall
and
are crushed?
Why
you crushed when you reach the bottom by wallking down the
aren't
The dynamics of your
are always a mystery.
"The gateway
One
to your
world's physical laws.
can only theorize
world
." .
.
Quill
The why of such laws
uselessly."
mused,
"is
getting run over by a
truck?" "It
need not have been a
truck.
We
needed crushing,
and
in that time
place."
"Crushing?" Quill stood, rubbing his chin speculatively.
"We might
build Interdimensional Gateways at the assigned spots—you could in-
form us of
these.
And,
at the calculated instants,
we
could bring crowds
of tourists into your world—by crushing them instantaneously in a huge
and quick metal
vise.
We could anesthetize them first
.
.
.
But
how would
they return?"
"We push them cific destinations.
use, as
is
Have you one
"Yes.
civilized galaxy."
do."
up
I
get the cooperation of your
government
in
tourist arrival centers?"
You
are
was prepared
now
inhabiting just such a terminal. This reception hall
specially in anticipation of tourists
need the revenue
tourists
show you our method of sible,
of them are not in
for the planet Nunneras?"
"Indeed ... do you think setting
window assigned— most
a
yet— for each inhabited world in your Universe's
"Yes?
"We
out windows," said liana. "Specific windows for spe-
There
would bring
.
.
.
from your world
.
.
.
We
and we brought you here
transition as quickly
and economically
to
as pos-
so you could arrange matters at the other end of the spectrum,
brave one." inspect your world,
"I shall
said Quill
loftily. "I'll
specific spot
make the arrangements," by way of Nunneras— can you arrange for a shall
on Nunneras?"
When
"Yes.
return
and then we
you go, simply
world you seek: you
will
visualize
another
living
being of the
be reconstituted beside that being."
"Good. My servant is on Nunneras. I will wish to confer with him—" He smiled thinly. "And to startle the treacherous blackguard.
Now
." .
.
"Let us not go from this place hastily, comely one." She gathered Quill into her arms.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Quill Tripstickler, Out the Window 139
my
"The others of
species," she said, whispering into his ear as she
him-and as he returned her caresses-" think that my seem to be attracted to spindly big-nosed bipeds."
stroked
odd.
I
"We
all
have our
.
.
.
our eccentric
tastes," Quill said, tracing
tastes are
her hind-
parts with an exploratory hand.
we
"Let us tarry here awhile, before said.
Her tone was
Quill tarried, ...
tour the rest of
my
Earth," she
wistful.
and he
tarried gladly.
But the time came when liana took Quill by the hand and escorted
him down
anomalously pragmatic
The
a metal door set to Quill, rather
in its verdant surroundings.
wheel and opened the door. Quill followed her
liana turned a
through.
came to The door seemed,
a green-blue misty avenue until they
into a wall of harsh black stone.
door, with a will of
its
own, shut behind them.
It
locked.
They were in a large room walled with white plastic and lined with aluminum shelves. On the shelves were glossy gray boxes perforated with thousands of tiny, almost microscopic, pinholes. The boxes were all alike and each a little bigger than a man's head. At the other end of the
room was another
rectangular
From
came
the door
liana turned to Quill
by
rote.
tive
metal door.
a droning and the thunder of
many
hooves.
and spoke something he suspected was learned
"Wear one of these perceptual enhancement boxes and the
my
beauty of
Earth will be enhanced a thousand fold.
And you
nawill
be able to communicate with others across the world as you choose, simply by tonguing the correct combination on your selector ..."
She selected a box with an extra bulge
commodate
on
Quill acted
instinct.
wheel, and threw It
it
open.
tive nostrils. All
And
"They've
.
all
.
its
with femitaurs and
some unguessable
All
were
dingy,
The
street
filth.
vermin moving too
thin, patchy,
on
and
the street
.
.
in
ill
health.
.
.
on their heads," Quill said in horror. He turned to fitted a box over her head. It completely enclosed
got boxes
She had already
her head,
tail,
excretions, running with
ac-
stench of unwashed billions assailed Quill's sensi-
seemed
every single being
Each one
liana.
A
presumably to
backed away.
human men and women.
in rags, sticky with
was cracked, oozing with
face,
He
to shoulder, chest to
manitaurs and, here and there,
quickly to identify.
one
He rushed to the opposite door, mrned He perceived a typical Other Earth street.
was crowded, shoulder
nude or dressed
at
She approached him.
Quill's nose.
fitting
Really, Really,
snugly shut under her chin, close around her neck.
Weird Stories
Out the Window
140 Quill Tripstickler,
She held a box out to
He
shook
John Shirley
Quill.
arms closed around him from behind.
his head. Strong
Manitaurs with boxes on their heads— they seemed to have boxes instead of heads, unless one looked closely—held Quill pinioned while liana ap-
proached him with the box, opening
away from one another
halves
bottom,
at the
it
to admit his
head
.
two
tilting its
.
.
rather thought the business about your wanting tourist revenue
"I
sounded specious,"
said Quill, stalling, "I strongly suspect
And something
leave your world.
you want
to
in the nature of the interdimensional
dynamics prevents your leaving for long unless you trade places with some-
one from our world, your place here grisly
.
yes?
yes?"
.
.
You can visit us—but
mess of your world and you must live
We have
own
our
mess.
one of us must take
to stay,
She nodded. Quill went on, "Well, you've made a
You can keep
in it—we
won't take your place.
yours, we'll keep ours."
him electronically from within the box she poised over his head. "We meant to put a box on your head before you saw what it's really like out there. Once the box "I'm sorry. Quill," said liana, her voice coming to
is
on, you won't notice the real world. At
overcrowded
ugliness.
The world
least,
the boxes will mitigate
look lovely to you— once your
will
Your physical sensations, your perceptions—all
buckles.
The box
contacts certain centers of your brain
.
.
will
You
.
be
its
will
altered.
see an infinite
of paradisiac greenery and only a few of those persons standing
vista
mbes
close to you. You'll be fed through
plain—You
Quill struggled uselessly.
Darkness.
And
began.
illusions
raised his
that
.
.
.
but no need to ex-
shall see."
The box
then the small
He
hands to
felt
his
closed over his head.
tri-vid
screens inside flickered
head and
felt his
nose, his eyes ...
all
The
alive.
ectoplasmic fingers probing his brain
.
.
.
He
through a
know the box is there," he said. "The illusion makes feeling my own head. The box warps my perceptions. I'll
layer of fuzziness. "I
me
think I'm
remember that." "You'll remember ." weeks
for a while," she said. "But
me
soon
.
.
.
after a
few
.
.
suppose you think to use
"I
use
it
this to
to lure tourists here ... so
brainwash
me
... so that you can
you can box them,
too,
and take
their
You hope to program me so that you can send me to my world You are hearing me, aren't you? You see, I'm on to your plan, isn't going to work. You can't program me when I'm aware of it—
places.
and and so,
I
.
.
it
.
can
resist
I'm willing
to,
it
ah
.
.
.
Best
we
forget the
whole
thing. Forgive
and
forget.
." .
.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
He seemed
Quill Tripstickler,
to see her standing before him, smiling, shaking her
"Time
ruefully.
will
mad
"You're
Out the Window
if
head
change you."
you think our
tourists will stand for this,"
he
said.
"They're not that stupid."
"Your
tourists stand for
group
tours, don't they? Tourists
have been conditioned for centuries to believe that abuse of stimulating
is
everywhere a condition
travel."
She had a point. Quill could not deny But he broke from
his guards
and
it.
down
break
tried to
the door lead-
ing into the glade of green grass and clean columns and crystal waterfalls
.
.
.
The manitaurs stampeded. He shaped
like
felt
himself trampled under hooves
jogging shoes.
Fives frowned, inspecting the circuitry behind the interior of his
working.
He
He was Fives
in
bowler
hidden panel in the
His hologram projector didn't seem to be
hat.
glanced up, wondering
if
he were about to be evicted.
danger of being evicted from the entire planet.
had been
told that, as an emissary of the
dead Redeemed Hero,
on Nunneras for The queen did not
Quill Tripstickler, he might be allowed to remain
Nine hours had passed
hours.
since his arrival.
prove of soulless machinery that acted as
not produce starcruiser.
He
his miracle,
Or perhaps
reflected that
had a
if it
soul. If Fives
.
.
ap-
could
he would soon be taken by force to
to a recycling plant
ten
his
.
he might have made a mistake,
in hinting to the
queen that a miraculous resurrection of their new martyr was imminent. It
might have been better to spring the scam on them
out-of-the-hat, as
it
were. They'd accepted without argument Fives' faked holotapes seeming
Nunneranism. But
to depict Quill's conversion to Fives with
what was probably mounting
now
Fives stood outside the crypt containing Quill's body.
an oval whose nearer end was shaped orchid.
on ing.
The Divine Family and
the steps leading
A crowd
low the
up
their
the queen eyed
skepticism.
like
The
the blossom of a
crypt
was
Nunneran
gloomily caparisoned retinue stood
to the crypt, to Fives' right,
heads bowed, pray-
of the Nunneran populace had gathered in the square be-
steps,
men
leather cassocks;
all
to the left side, in habits,
droned
in prayer.
The
women
to the right, in
sun beat dovm, the
air
was
heavy with blossom scent.
The queen raised her head. The Prayers ended. The ceremony was done. The martyr was buried. The queen mrned to gaze at Fives expectReally, Really,
Weird Stories
141
142 Quill Tripstickler,
andy. Fives smiled,
Out the Window
wondering
fore the guards converged
more than
if
John Shirley
he could
summon
on him. The look in
his ship's shuttle be-
the queen's eye presaged
eviction. It w^as a this-robot-has-been-playing-us-for-fools-and-I-
say-we-melt-him-down look.
She turned to the nun-habited guards and spoke to them
The guards reached
gesturing toward Fives. Brissic spores.
would
into belt
They'd throw spore-packed capsules
would come
burst, the spores
in a whisper,
pouches containing
at Fives, the capsules
into contact with air and, in the
rude and impertinent manner of Brissic spores everywhere, they'd burst into root-base
an unbreakable
stantly into It
foam which would cover him shell
.
.
in seconds,
hardening
in-
.
has already been noted that Fives had no esophagus. Hence, he
was unable
to experience a
lump of
rate to maintain that a robot
fear in his throat.
cannot
feel fear. Fives
But
it is
inaccu-
began to overheat
with anxiety.
But between Fives and the oncoming guards, a vision interposed
To
Five's surprise, a partly serviceable
The holo-image swayed,
the steps, blinking confusedly. (causing this released)
monumental
and belched.
programmed it
facial feature to
Fives
pulled
do these
its
waggle obscenely when
found these actions disturbing.
the hologram to
itself.
hologram of Quill appeared on
things.
He
nose it
was
had not
Nor had he programmed
to say:
"The
pain's gone.
The box
is
The world
gone.
is
made
over again. I'm
new."
But that
is
what
it
said.
"Faulty hologram," Fives muttered. that
would mrn the holo
off before
hologram did not disappear. astonishing tale to
And
tell
It
it
He
flicked the switch (internally)
could embarrass him further. The
turned to him and
said, "Fives,
I
have an
you."
then Quill noticed the crowd at the bottom of the marble steps,
and he saw
that even the
queen of Nunneras was kneeling to him, chant-
ing hosannas and hallelujahs. Quill turned
bered the
he
Fives'
and viewed the
will
He
read the placard.
He remem-
scheme. Then, trying not to smile too broadly, he turned to
crowd and spoke, be rebuked.
bringing his
crypt.
Word
"It is written:
He
of a
'one from the stars will come, and
shall find death,
new
age and a
and he
will return
from death,
new Way.'"
A hushed silence was followed by a series of hymns.
As everyone sang
a different hymn, the result was dissonant clamor. After covering his ears for a
few moments, Quill raised
his
hands for
silence. In the
Really, Really,
ensuing
Weird Stories
John Shirley quiet,
Quill Tripstickler,
he spoke to the assemblage,
ringing tones, "First of
we
"Best
all
start off v^ith
there
lips that
they
v^ill
have returned from Heaven w^ith
cleared his throat
and continued,
.
only a
fevv^
reforms,
murmured
sir,"
Fives v^hispered.
aside to Fives.
easily
speak the holy w^ord. Second,
other worlds will be admitted to Nunneras and allowed to
They
shall
lactic
Tourist Agency.
be admitted only
They
if
they
may
change troubling will
come
shouted:
visitors
roam
their
from
freely.
they arrive under the auspices of the Ga-
shall
be given
And
lodgings at a reasonable price. this, that
He
be no more severing of lips—the young v^ill retain
may more
in
." .
"Yes, you're quite right," Quill "Firstly,
"I
He
w^ord of a nev^ order of things."
Out the Window
hospitality
and comfortable
clean towels—and sterile cups. All
see the example of Nunneras
their hearts ... so that,
on
to a realization of the glory of
and go away with a
their respective worlds, they
Nunneranism,
as
And
did.
I
think of the cash flow they'll bring in—" "Sir
.
.
whispered Fives warningly.
."
"Sorry," said Quill, aside. "Habit." Louder, he said, "And, finally, the
Princess Enrilla spiritual
tion."
The
and
I
will travel, alone, to other
envoys of Nunneras, bringing the
He
caught
Enrilla's eye,
skies of Terra
worlds of the galaxy as
Good Word of Holy Redemp-
expecting to see her blush. She winked.
were cobalt blue that sunny morning. Even the
squawks of poultry seemed
jolly to Quill.
Or
nearly.
and Quill paused outside Commissioner Feldspar's home. The commissioner's visage, three meters high, was reproduced on the facade Fives
of his synthawood house, between two bay windows.
through a series of expressions. All the houses up and typical facial facades, the
were fronted with the
day expressions of their owners. Fives turned to Quill
was
will in
most
flickered
the street
common
day-to-
that sort of street.
and remarked, "But
Other Earth
ple of the
It
It
dovm
surely.
Master
Quill, the peo-
time flood into our Earth through their
death portals, to escape the over-crowding of their
own wodd
." .
.
Most of them have been raised with their heads in their Only boxes. They believe the wodd they see on the small TV screens those in power would have come here, if their plot had worked. Their "Not
so.
.
government of course,
is
utterly autocratic ...
who made my escape
I
barely escaped myself.
possible.
It
.
.
was
She consented to show
liana,
me the
Calculated Death Windows because she loved me. She must have secretly known I'd try to escape through them. And she voluntarily indicated the window leading-through Death-to Nunneras. She could not
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
143
Out the Window
144 Quill Tripstickler,
John Shirley
bear to see the magnificent Tripstickler sword blunted. docile, as
if
succumbing
must have taken great courage, Master
"It
"I
window—to your must admit,"
said Quill with the airy
ledging His Humbleness, "that
desperation as as I
it is,
without
my own "Quill,
as courage.
I
up
wave of a Great Man Acknow-
My grasp
on
window through
reality is
my giving it into someone else's control
crypt, in
through
his employer.
leapt through the
But only for a moment.
hit the street.
pretended to be
Quill, to leap head-first
death," said Fives, buttering
much
I
was given a tour of the
I
Windows."
building containing the
that
to brainwashing, until
And
then,
tenuous enough ... It hurt,
when
was standing outside
I
Nunneras."
my boy!"
cried
Commissioner Feldspar
"Come
door to greet them.
in! I
want you
to
joyously,
know
I
coming
to the
have decided to
permit you to remain in the Galactic Tourist Agency after aU. And, at no significant cut in
pay
.
.
Your opening up Nunneras
.
for
us—after blun-
dering it—was a masterful stroke." Quill hesitated
work
on
the front step. "I'm not sure
I
want
to
come back to
for the agency," he said quietly, examining his immaculately mani-
cured fingernails. "Not without a substantial raise and a promotion."
"What! You weak-minded ingrate! You can stuff your—"
"Or all
else
have to
I'll
tell
the
to permit Satanic tourists
Feldspar
fell silent.
Nunnerans
on
that
He scowled.
A raise.
might be dangerous
after
." .
.
His image, on the facade of the house
above him, sccowled too. "Very well. You promotion.
it
their pristine turf
may have
anything you
like.
A
Anything."
"Anything?" Quill looked at the duck, which peered nervously, out
from between
its
owner's
legs.
"Anything," said Feldspar. "I
want
that duck," "I said.
"My—my duck.'*" Feldspar trembled. Then,
resignedly,
he
said,
"Very well."
"And," Quill added, grasping the duck firmly about the neck before
could speak,
"I
want a word with your
it
chef."
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Live in Elizabeth
I
She
me
lets
way.
I
take control. Taking control feels like
coming awake,
in a
haven't been asleep, mentally; but physically I've been in whatever
my
when I'm asleep. There is a moment of disjunction, when I feel I'm floating free from her, and I experience an almost overwhelming relief. And then she slips aside and I click with her motor controls, jack into her senses, take command of corner of our brain
her coordination. rush:
I
begin to
of a sudden
all
sensations go
areas of pain:
one
circulation, as
we've been
midriff.
in her right leg, because
let
damned much
me
sitting
it's
begun
I
monitor a pain, two
to suffer
too long in one position.
what happened, so
We're having trouble
first
I
have to get used
to.
from lack of
And a pain in our to, since
And none
of it's
I'm male.
easy.
write the several sentences you've just read. We've decided
to write an account of
The
her physical sensations in a disorienting
Cramps. Her period: Something hard to get used
There's so
She
feel
evening and she's fatigued;
it's
time
I
saw
.
.
.
adjusting
Elizabeth,
I
.
knew
.
that
we can
get
some
help.
.
instantly she'd
change
my life.
was a cool Sunday afternoon in June, about ten months ago, outside a theater in the East Village. Clouds shifted the street into twilight and then slipped aside— and suddenly the sunlight was flooding her. She It
was
She looked older
at a
movie
poster. Jesus she
than seventeen, at
first. I
thought her twenty, or twenty-one. Partly
stood looking
lovely.
it's
the clothing she wears. New York dovmtown boutique. The Face magazine.
A touch pretentious, perhaps, like some of her speech mannerisms.
But she's a knockout. Long thick black
hair,
almost to her waist. Full
hips, long in the legs. Something Latin in her face.
We'd
just
come out
rows down from me, Really, Really,
of the theater-I'd noticed her inside too, about all
Weird
five
alone, rapt, a solitary bust in the artificial twilight.
Stories
146
I
John Shirley
Live IN Elizabeth
Now she
stood gazing at the movie poster. She glanced at me, and
had a glimpse of her eyes— so brown they were almost black,
mink
Her
lashes.
lips
were
full,
her lower
lip like
crawl
on every available
graffiti
and the
surface; the sidewalks
were the same grimy
by
seemed
to
a silk pillow.
She was a divine anomaly. The cryptic spray paint
ings
I
set off
walls of the build-
with bottlecaps and
gray, the streets imprinted
pop-tops pressed into the asphalt by thousands of cars. Against that
background: Elizabeth, luminous.
gone alone
I'd
to see Fellini's
conversational opening.
about a place
gic
She nodded.
maybe
"I
got
I've
I've
funny
how
some is
.
me
feel nostal-
My mother's Italian,
though, so
can make
Fellini
.
sort of ancestral
memory
teenager.
It
of the place.
And
of
."
incredibly well-defined
was a
realized that she
seemed the appropriate
It
."
never been to
know what you mean.
course the imagery I
"It's
Amarcord.
.
was
.
tone of voice, her
in her
me with her maturity. Most teenage girls don't use terms like ancestral memory and imagery. I told myself. Make tracks. You re thirty -one, my friend. Don't Beat pronunciation. Trying to impress
it,
be
foolish.
I
was
looked into her dizzy.
I felt
eyes.
A shock of recognition. And
been standing near the
I'd
wall,
moment
for a
my
with
back to
I
it,
gazing at myself. Seeing myself ogling her shamelessly, as she would
have seen me.
And back.
then
What
smiled at
it
was
over.
I
returned to myself, blinked, and took a step
was thatf I thought. me. From that moment, I knew. the hell
the dance, the preliminaries. level,
I
I
had
forgot about
I
It
was
to have her,
it
when
over but the
all
and
would.
I
she
ritual,
On some
knew.
We chatted. We exchanged names. and she admitted that she was from
name was
Elizabeth.
I
I
my friends call me
told her
Elizabeth,
resisted joking
about
New Jersey and
that.
I
had
just
"Blue"
that her
moved
to
Manhattan; she was only there for the day. I
her just
knew other things about her. Things she didn't tell me. I knew what bedroom looked like, and what her last boyfriend had said to her before she broke up with him, and what music she listened
what her parents were
come
to
know these
like. It
things.
I
didn't occur to
was drunk on
me
her,
to ask myself
and
I
to,
and
how
I'd
liked the feeling.
I
wasn't going to ask questions. I
knew,
I
looked
also, that
at
her
she was only seventeen.
lips.
I
swear to
I
God I knew
didn't care. just
what
it
Really, Really,
would
feel like
Weird Stories
John Shirley
I
Live in Elizabeth 147
And I knew that I would, eventually. come to the awkward moment. She had to say goodbye and We had move away, or seem easy. I had to come up with some alternative. Both of us waited for a few moments as I tried to think of something. to kiss them.
She smiled, seemed mildly disappointed, and
said, "Well,
guess I'd
I
better—"
"Have a cup of coffee with me?" that
was a lame thing
it
to say,
was past
I
I'd
be crazy to take her out. There were laws.
It
thirty.
a pretty decent
said, "There's
cafe
little
was a month—a month of meeting her a
school, of nights
after
me and ." .
.
from her
discreet distance
of doubts, of necking in Central Park.
full
And
around the corner
worked up the nerve to meet her parents. Elizabeth hadn't told them my age. I'd talked to them on the phone, once. Her father
before
told myself
She'd be crazy to go out with
she could see
But she
I
have a cuppa coffee with me.
all,
I
look casual.
tried to
A
month
I
Her mother
mystery boy!"
Blue, we'd love to little girl's
"Well do
said,
come
said,
"So
the
this is
over for dinner Sunday,
meet the boy who's been occupying so much of our little girl. "She says you do some kind of journal-
Our
time."
ism. For the college paper?" I
wdnced. "No,
A cub
"Oh?
My nerve
I
write for the Daily
failed.
"Something
pected her parents to forbid
Our
But
first
I
can
She says
feel I
me
time together,
me more
taught
usually."
like that"
in anticipation of
That week,
time.
News, Sunday Supplement
reporter?"
than
I
I
Sunday, the date after which to see her,
we made
mean: she wasn't a
tell
exfirst
virgin. In fact,
she
taught her.
her objecting to the direction this story
can
we
love for the
you about the drugs.
I
is
taking.
don't approve of them,
But that evening, trying to make love to her in my rickety studio apartment, I felt like a child molester. A grimy feeling. Made me tense. And tension made me impotent. So that's when she took the
usually.
black film container from her transparent plastic purse. The container didn't have film in it, though. "Demerol or coke?" she
litde
asked. I'd
ing I
my
never had either one, and here was this seventeen-year-old
me
girl offer-
both.
looked
at the bindle
head. But
I
said:
Really, Really,
and the half-dozen
"The Demerol."
Weird Stories
triangular tablets
and shook
148
I
John Shirley
Live IN Elizabeth
dropped two. Twenty minutes
I
didn't
know about
later
was
realized there
I
started to melt ...
till it
me
ice in
warm
turned into
I
I
water
and flowed into Elizabeth's arms. What had been tense became relaxed, and what had been limp became rigid. I felt myself moving
and she was
against her
than
silkier
silk
and
I
was amazed
to discover
how damn strong the muscles of her thighs were. Everything was we were shining together. I was a flashlight beam fanning
just
working;
over snow, making
my own I
glitter.
it
touch as she
felt
There was a funny sense that
was sending a sonar pulse into
she would experience
it
and
her: the signal
alter
could experience her experience
.
was spinning through space.
mirror image of I
Good-looking
was
terrified
With
And
felt
fellow, really,
body with
touched
I
so
I
fiery discus passing
through a
singing. thirty-one.
I
realized
mean,
myself— I
all
gay,
I
who he was. Me. I
touched
Elizabeth's hands.
body
Elizabeth inhabited the
my
skin
felt,
Elizabeth smiled at me, with
There was an amorphous the Looking Glass, again. chariot of flesh
body.
was a
with bright blue eyes. But I'm not at
hands,
me
indescribably peculiar.
face— how coarse
own
back to
and
a peak of ecstatic exchange.
by the positioning of things—until
Elizabeth's
Elizabeth's
it
fly to her,
bed with a rather gaunt young man of
in
feel
.
Somewhere, there was a wordless
itself.
found myself
I
would
and bounce
it .
I communed with her, and reached And then the world was gone. I
could
I
it—in a sort of empathy, a somatic echo. Like
We
my
I
I'd
departed.
touched that masculine
I
from the outside!
my lips.
tug,
and a negative shimmering. Through
was back
in myself, or
back
in the
rough
actual self rides about in. Elizabeth returned to her
had found our way back, tracing some ectoplasmic um-
bilicus.
My eyes
opened wide and locked onto
hers.
The mutual knowledge,
the mutual experience, crackled the space between us. Sweet sparks flew
when I touched her. You know how isolated most people are, most of the time.'' People who live together for years know a few camouflaging layers of each other's personality. Inside, they ache with loneliness.
A rier
few of us have a
talent that
makes
between people. I'm not sure what
it
possible to transcend the bar-
it is,
really.
But
it's
genuine.
No
hallucination.
And
we've got other
talents.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
We spent a blissful week meeting secretly. work.
The Educated Male.
to play
No, no,
I?
I
I
really
helped her with her home-
knew it made me
don't think she needed help, but she
I
Live in Elizabeth 149
I
needed help on the
trig.
Blue. Only,
you made
Sorry.
She took control for a moment. Great
Oh:
helped her with her homework, and in return she
I
feature story
on the housing
crisis— she said
it
little
We made
The exchange less
didn't always happen,
got used to
till I
cohabited in
The
more than
my body
.
.
.
when we had because
relief,
a
first
as
split
pretended she
two minds
it
sex. It
happened
was a frightening
in
we somehow empty.
second. For ten or fifteen seconds
while hers remained
but
alive
We
one body, without
with a blizzard of random mental imagery. The
ended
the
occasion our two consciousnesses
cohabitation wasn't altogether pleasant.
communicate,
my
vilified
I
it.
Even more frightening was the shared one body for
worse.
criticized
was shallow, I
it
love.
than half the time. That was a
experience,
good
Where was
kidder.
landlords without taking their perspectives into account.
was wrong.
feel
In return-
had
to learn
terrifying
first
how
to
one another
few cohabitations
our nerves overloaded, raw. Now, we've learned the
in confusion,
internal dance, the revolving of polarized mental focus-points,
making
the sharing possible.
Sunday afternoon,
wore a
a
suit,
suit. I
I
went
and maybe
that
to Elizabeth's
house to meet her parents.
was bad psychology.
It
was July; too hot
I
for
stood on their doorstep, sweating, wires of tension knotting in
my gut, waiting for someone to answer the door. I remember I kept pickwrong for Summer. I felt Elizabeth coming to answer the door. The door opened and I had to fight myself. She wore a wrap around skirt and a bikini top. "Hi," she said, ing flecks of lint off—it
was a dark
suit, all
glancing over her shoulder. "Did you bring the—" Just then her
dad came
to the
door and interrupted
what she'd meant. She'd asked me
worked
it
me
up from her
bread on the
I
this
the
money and
friends, dutiful as a
way home from
work.
is
knew
I
bought two grams for
I'd
husband stopping
still
her;
for a loaf of
refused to use the smff, or
made
fun of me.
the mystery boy," said her dad, again.
my hand. But he didn't shake The smile had looked me over. "How old did you say you were,
smiled and extended
left his
I
up some blow for her. She and half her wages went to
even do a second dose of Demerol, and she "So
But
after school part-time at a bookstore,
cocaine. She'd given
picked
to pick
her.
face as he
friend?" he asked, rather abruptly.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
it.
150
I
John Shirley
Live IN Elizabeth
I
was annoyed, and
I
opted for honesty. "I'm
Elizabeth closed her eyes
and swallowed
thirty-one,"
I
said.
visibly.
Mrs. Calder came to the door. They were the sort of couple who'd
come
one another, over the
to look like
bulbous, their faces lined in the
same
into the house.
daughter comes of age,
teen. In earlier times
uncommon
wasn't
marry
I'd like to
got a good job and
I've
her.
When
she's eigh-
for a girl of fourteen to
be—"
have to ask you to leave."
"I'll I
it
you think you're
"I'm not a chiseler or
said,
I
a creep, A^. Calder. I'm far from well-to-do, but
when your
hell
How smpid do you think we are?"
and walked
Elizabeth swore
little
Mi. Calder asked me,
what the
leaning against the doorframe, "Buddy,
going to get away with here?
Both were tanned, a
years.
directions.
my
lost
temper.
"Look—you're
a hypocrite.
was somebody
If I
really
Donald Trump or someone, but forty—you d shake my hand and ask which caterers to use at the wedding. You wouldn't give a damn
wealthy,
about crites
my age. You and your wife are a couple of narrow-minded hypowho wouldn't know love if it bit you on the ass—" All right, it was
smpid. But
I
was sure
I'd
Elizabeth's father gave
making
me
totter
never get to see Elizabeth again.
me
a vicious shove in the center of
backwards.
reached past him to a shelf
I
resented that.
just inside
water and wilted crocuses, and
No
at him.
solid connections.
my
chest,
returned to the doorstep,
the door, snatched up a vase of
dumped
my hand and
knocked the vase from
I
it
on
his head. Sputtering,
took a swing
at
me.
I
he
took a swing
His wife panicked and ran outside, shout-
ing for the cops.
My luck:
the guy across the street
was an
who
faced guy, smelling of suntan lotion,
Bermuda to state
shorts
and twisted
my
arms behind
my case. He was a big guy. I was go through my pockets.
He was
off-duty cop.
a red-
trotted over in his thongs
me
not so
before
big.
I
and
had a chance
He
told Elizabeth's
just
toughened the
father to
And I
then
I
remembered the
cocaine.
spent the next seven months in prison.
Possession of cocaine,
first
offense,
and they'd
laws—good timing. Would have copped two years maze,
if it
Does
in that concrete rat
weren't for the Agremerol experiments.
that
sound
like
I
You've already pictured
got off easy? it.
Only seven months
You picture
in prison?
the over-crowded cells-cells
crowded
men whose entire lives are just waiting periods between outbursts of rage. You picture the gang-rapes in the showers, the men drawing territorial lines, parceling out other men into allies and chattels and enemies; you picture the with
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Live in Elizabeth
I
corrupt, indifferent guards, the smuggled drugs and, everpresent, the motionless horror:
the endless gun-colored claustrophobic confinement.
Well, you're wrong.
because
different,
It's
It's
different. it's
worse.
It's
at least five times
worse than you
imagine. Take everything ugly you visualize for prison, multiply
and you've imagined than
it
After her
my
was torment.
five
One A.M.
we decided not to
We had something better. .
bedroom,
She gave
me
tling gently against the
pane
cretly
my
once, before
when
I'd
on her bed.
hypnogogic
startling
from
my bunk would
clarity,
split,
would
The
on the
picture
two intense
fuse into
vision of Elizabeth, in
would begin with the eyes and
would be one moment on
was
lying
on
Elizabeth
Once
as a
were both
about.
had a
itself in
fill
a ratty
bunk in the
.
.
.
State Pen, seconds later
Elizabeth's fragrant bed, beneath a single soft blue sheet, a
was
there, with
me
laying a rosy tinge
bed with
boy, I'd shared a
five,
and our parents thought
Our house was lovely time.
I
on the shadows.
me.
little
small, the
brought a
of the house was asleep,
The
seen her
there; her brow, nose, lips, her oval face, her spill of glossy black
red lamp on the wall beside
I
rus-
the tree was a key,
visitation fall into place ... I'd
her white shoulders shaded with olive-gold
hair,
I
I'd visual-
window
run-in with her parents, meeting Elizabeth se-
orbs of onyx: the pupils of Elizabeth's eyes.
I
open my eyes and
the Elder Calders were away. I'd concentrate
and the darkness over
It
a time, a very specific
Somehow
in the breeze.
and helped the elements of the
room.
alone, at the appointed hour.
Wednesday and Sunday.
every
.
.
in her
visiting
her bedroom, her red-shaded lamp, the tree outside her
room
by five,
one another again,
see
stare into the darkness. I'd picture Elizabeth lying ize
it
more crowded
times
not through the wire mesh of the
least,
She would be
time.
it's
sanity.
to the prison,
first visit
got out. At
I
That's because
should be.
Elizabeth saved
until
right.
it
my visiting cousin.
we were
and
safe.
We
under the covers, when the
rest
beds few-they figured
flashlight
Lollie
too young too worry
and we examined one
it
was
another in fascination.
blanket over us, the atmosphere beneath steamy with body heat,
perfumed with our had gone body.
into a separate
A world
That's
natural scents—all of
how
it
made me
feel that
she and
where each shared the
I
other's
of innocent sensual sharing.
I felt,
then, with Elizabeth. Only, instead of our being un-
der a blanket together, exactly see
wodd
together,
we were nestling within a single
one another-it was a
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
skin.
We couldn't
sort of blind mental groping with
151
152
I
John Shirley
Live IN Elizabeth
ghostly physical sensations. quite her,
even now.
when
.
merged, and we never It
was
like
operate her body,
I
never lost
my sense
.
we were
But
.
will.
woman
holding a
of maleness.
I
We
never
close
from
And
the inside.
a particularly intimate dancing. I've
like
it's
distinct entities.
have never completely identified with
I
don't feel female;
simply
I
feel extraor-
dinarily close to one.
When both trol
of us occupied one body, either she or
of that body's movements at any one time.
When
I
would be
in con-
command
she's in
of the body, I'm there, passive but conscious of what's going on, experi-
encing her physical sensations in a sort of reverberation. of her thoughts, unless she wills
one
djinn in
it.
We are
distinct,
I
And when we make
love ...
through her nervous system.
Don t
I
could
tell
you about the
secret
I
And
then
tell
them
chambers
send racing
trade muscular control, very
It's
this.
just that
it's
an area of enthusiasm for me.
get to talk to anyone outside
You are No, no.
we
I
we can-
Sorry, dear. rarely
sick of
Let's
me.
I
knew
it!
And
It
was hard
to think, at
mine. Gambling for cigarettes, for syringes, for bits
of
steel, for
money,
all
first,
out, to lose yourself in the
it all
round the
squirrel's
cage in the
skull.
lighters, for
I
had
because
men
candy
in
bars,
the things they weren't sup-
posed to have that they always managed close
so
You—
the cells are so crowded, so noisy, and there were nineteen
sharpened
it's
you—
not go into that again, Elizabeth. Later. Anyway,
a lot of time to think in prison.
for
all
ornate bottle.
lovely,
of her, the cellular singings in her, the electrical rushes
quickly, so
don't hear
but intertwined, two
to get. But
you learned to
mental maze, to jog round and
To keep from
flipping out ... All
that thinking, together with a tattered science magazine in the prison library,
synthesized a theory. Suppose that
we
each have two bodies,
the visible body, cellular-organic, and the other a plasmic skein of sub-
atomic wave
particles,
flesh, inter-penetrating
right circumstances.
I
consciousness cohabitating with the body of it,
but capable of surviving outside
thought of
it
as the plasmic body.
it,
given the
My
plasmic
body could leave my material body, and transmit itself, through some medium beyond my guesswork, to Elizabeth. It was possible for two plasmic bodies to cohabit in one material body, while the departed
body waited felicitously,
in a sort of stasis, a self-imposed hibernation. It
with Elizabeth and
I,
worked
we were in love, because we man was invaded by an unwel-
because
accepted one another. But suppose a
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
come
plasmic body? Hadn't
happened, before?
it
I
Live in Elizabeth
It
could explain the
legends of possession.
And since it was possible might
not be possible to use
it
my own plasmic body,
to willfully manipulate
someone
against
it
In prison,
else's?
you're forever mulling the prospects for self-defense. I
was thinking about
the
it,
most
Tarnower had come
particularly, since
There were only three white guys
cell.
to
Tarnower was one
in the cell.
of them.
Tarnower had a
perfectly ordinary face,
one of those men who wore a ured his features; his face was
Even
self-pity.
in sleep, the
no doubt,
as a boy.
But he was
single facial expression so long, all
it
transfig-
whining resentment. Permutations of
same twisted sneer on
his lips.
His head was
vaguely peanut-shaped, and he was potbellied, soft of limb, always twitching, looking to see
if it
was he being laughed
at.
He
was
in for
dealing PCP.
Tarnower
didn't like the fact that Brinker protected
of law school, and Brinker prized
me
dorm
the
me from
hard-guys against me, implying
He
wanted
even more after the State Health teers in
was a spy
to earn Brinker's gratimde
had saved them from
that he, Tarnower,
I
extor-
trying to turn
for the prison ad-
by making
my treachery. And
Facility
and
rape, assault,
Tarnower had no protection, and he was constantly
ministration.
had a year
I'd
as his "in-house attorney." Brinker
was the dorm heavy, and he protected tion.
me.
it
seem
he hated
came around asking
me
for volun-
exchange for parole.
Volunteers for "experiments in drug abuse therapy." Several hundred
of us applied, including Tarnower.
taken to the research ous.
He
facility
I
was accepted, and was
furi-
was sure he'd been overlooked because of me. Because, he
claimed, he'd seen
me
"slip
something to the guard."
convince another lunkhead of the same thing.
making plans
me
told I'd be
the following morning. Tarnower was
to
kill
And
me. They'd been high on the
list
I
He managed knew
to
they were
of volunteers. With
good chance one of them would be picked. A drag me told me all this. "You gonna fall and hit
dead, there was a
queen who'd taken a fancy to
you head inna showers, honey," the queen informed make it look that way. You watch you ass now." "I
always watch
my
ass in the
me
sweetly.
"They
showers"
"That's two of us, honey."
So that I
set the killing for the next
waited
Tarnower
till
sat
well
up on
Really, Really,
after lights his
bunk,
his
Weird Stories
morning.
out.
Most
of the
men were
asleep.
back to me, talking softly to a Hispanic
153
154
I
John Shirley
Live IN Elizabeth
named upper
Altinp. Heavy-set
he shook with
lip;
man
with stubby hands and sweat beading his
silent laughter at
was doing more than watching them.
I
I
something Tarnower
was
focusing.
Channeling some of my plasma body, extending hands.
own
It
was
hands;
I
me
.
.
were reaching out with
if I
was
said.
reaching.
my outstretched extensions of my
from
invisible
pictured these plasmic hands as splayed and translucent,
I
two membranes, one on
gelatinous,
from
as
it
I
either side of the
two men across
.
brought the plasmic hands together, clapping their heads between. But
the hands didn't strike them, physically. skull, like
nets through water,
coming
They passed through the
and
into contact with the plasmic fields
them
of the two cons, compressing them, tugging
The men screamed, thrashed
skin
together.
seemed
in confusion as their senses
to
mingle. Altino splashed into Tarnower, Tarnower into Altino.
They'd been conspirators, not friends. They were frightened, small-
minded men.
They clawed
at
one another, the room erupted with shouting, and
somewhere alarm bells rang as the guards heard the uproar. The next day, in the cafeteria, the story was told like this: "Yeah, Tarnower. He's flipped out— frothing Altino—he's what they
his,
Who
knows what
And
in
call
at the
a vegetable.
it
was
mouth. That vato buddy of
He
just stares, like, all day.
the fuck happened."
due course,
after
an uneventful shower,
I
was taken
to the cus-
tody of dear Doctor Schusser. I
was paroled, but
therapy,
and
I
We made
motel. day,
and we'd
had
lots
But right
had
was allowed
ties. I
had
to participate in four
to stay at the Jersey
MHF research center's living faciliwe met at a cheap on her eighteenth birth-
to see Elizabeth three hours a day;
plans. She'd leave her parents
live
weeks of experimental
together while she went to college in Manhattan.
We
of lovely plans.
it all
waited on Schusser and Morgan.
from the
across
I
start
of
from two black
the right.
I
my
first
I
had a nasty sinking
conference with them.
vinyl armchairs;
Morgan on
sat
I
the
left,
thought of Tweedledee and Tweedledum. But
it
on
feeling
a couch
Schusser to
turned out
Punch and Judy. Morgan was a brown suit man. Thought he was dressing tastefully and casually in his various shades of they were
brown. ties,
more
He had
like
a shapeless red beard and sandy hair; he
always looked a
little tired.
Especially
Schusser: late thirties, paunchy, typically
turtleneck sweater—even
on hot
days.
when he spoke wore gray
was
in his for-
to Schusser.
slacks
and a blue
Dandruff salted
his shoulders.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
I
Thinning, disarrayed black eyes.
wood
I
And
it.
how
I'd
seem a heavy ".
when
.
.
to summarize,"
therapeutically.
my
written application;
they asked
It's
my
me
about
Morgan droned, is
I
we call D-17, administered just we believe, will make you unusu-
a medication
a long, chill shudder
went through me.
I'd
to justify this kind of tampering. But
was
want
to break parole, to
in
our
lab's
dorm. The experiments began imme-
And for the first few nights, I noticed nothing unusual. I we slept, some white-coated drip would whisper, "Drugs
Cocaine makes you nauseated. Heroin does nothing for you.
ill.
Marijuana gives you a headache. You have no enjoyment of
The next
article
known about it
night.
told that, as
make you
didn't
I
.
signed the papers. Lots and lots of papers.
There were four others
That
." .
once written an
research into the dream-state. There was just too litde
diately
had
I
lied brilliantly.
subliminal suggestion during dream-time
I
when
"the experiment uses dream-time
a hypnotic, which,
always be running. So
mur-
I
my background.
"current problems with drugs,"
keep the parole.
The key
ally receptive to
And
developed
user, to
before you sleep.
on
replies
fabricated a grand story, a harrowing history of drug abuse
they asked to
a shoe, with a long curl of
like
listened distantly as they reviewed
mured monosyllabic
between us on which was
coffee-table
a yellow ceramic plant holder shaped
greenery growing out of
brown
Affected friendliness in his small
hair.
There was a polished
Live in Elizabeth
day, Schusser
and Morgan would
." .
.
test us, giving us small
doses of controlled substances, so they could watch for the hoped-for aversion reactions.
Morgan blamed
It
didn't work; the drugs continued to feel good.
Schusser's
"suggestion
Morgan's dosage. More than once office.
I
began to
some sort of state They hated one I
realize that they
I
script";
Schusser
blamed
heard them arguing in Schusser's
were working together
health department politics forced
it
reluctantly;
on them.
another.
and the three other
subjects,
who were black, weren't allowed to
dis-
cuss the experiment with one another. But as the days passed, the haunted looks in their tired faces confirmed my suspicions. They were
having a reaction to D-17 similar to mine. Nightmares. "Nightmares" doesn't describe it. An understatement. Everything matic that had ever happened to over,
magnified and exaggerated.
me I
trau-
dredged up and replayed, over and
saw
my mother
dying of cancer again,
dreamed I would come home but more vividly than I'd seen and find her in my bed, dying, wasting away So I'd run to the bathroomit
and she'd be
in the tub. Dying.
Really, Really,
in real
life. I
Wasting away.
Weird Stories
155
156
I
John Shirley
Live IN Elizabeth
I felt
I'd
ing
the nightmares
dream I was back in
my head
I'd
more
in the toilet.
deeply,
more palpably than I'd felt anything,
prison. Altino
and Tarnower
strangling
ever.
me, hold-
And worse.
wake up screaming, and
day long.
I'd feel like living hell all
Sometimes ghost images of the dreams would superimpose over waking
my
Tarnower caressing the corpse of
see
reality. I'd
the grass across from the park bench where I'd been trying to find
peace with Elizabeth. still
And
some
the subliminal suggestions, after three weeks,
didn't work.
At the beginning of the fourth week, Schusser talked Morgan into pling the dosage.
I
into trouble— they I
my
mother, on
had the impression were exceeding the
that
Morgan was
tri-
afraid they'd get
legal limit.
had a whole new season of nightmares. One
in particular recurred
On the third night, I woke up premamrely, screaming. my own room—our screams had made it necessary to isolate us. I was awake, but I was still having the nightmare; I was hallucinating, my night after night.
I
was
in
nightmare superimposed over the real world of the I
lab's
saw myself standing there—I saw myself as a separate
bedroom.
entity.
Only, the
man I saw, standing over me—his breathing glutinously bubbling—the man had changed. The face was barely recognizable. It was hardly there at all. My face was deformed, crushed into a bloody mockery. And below, my gut was laid open, my entrails pendulously dangling. It shuffled toward me and bent to ram its long, gray dead-man's tongue down my throat. Choking me. I saw it bright as noonday. I clawed the EEC wires from my head and ran to the window. I was awake— but I wasn't, quite. I hesitated at the
window.
I
mrned. The thing was
lucent but repulsive as a tumor;
it
hated me;
it
there,
behind me,
was malevolently
trans-
rabid.
plunged through the window in a panic to get away. Anywhere away. crash, crystalline explosion
and four kinds of
pain. Shouts
I
A
from some-
where. Consciousness coming and going in the same vacillation as the warbling of approaching
The
lab's
dorm was
sirens.
six floors up.
the window was a wrought One of the spears split my A third tore my face from my skull.
Under
iron fence topped with hard black spears. liver.
Another broke
my spine in two.
There wasn't much anyone could have done to repair
it.
my eyes remained. With that eye saw myself. saw what remained of my face, in the outside rearview mirror of the ambulance as the medics pulled me free of the spikes. The face saw was the face of the thing in my nightmare. It was me, One
of
I
I
I
now, and always would be,
if I
lived.
My new self-image. Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
My soul,
or
I
you
if
like,
my plasma body,
Live in Elizabeth
me
passed from
forever then,
and
fled along the psychic channels to another receptacle.
ries,
my personality came
along.
found a home forever
I
My memo-
in the
body of
Elizabeth Calder.
we calmed into we going to do to them?"
After a few days of mutual comforting and readjustment,
cool determination, and she asked me, "What are
Elizabeth
was
in control that night.
opened the door arguing.
Ten minutes
regret for
We
opened her hands.
later,
death and the
official inquiry.
what they'd done
We
Morgan
now and
sat
one of the
sat in
He was lying on the floor,
a hole in his right bicep. His face was smeared with his
Morgan, or Morgan's body, hand. Blinking
me.
reached out, together.
the security guard found us.
black vinyl chairs, watching Schusser.
its
to
bent over their reports, sweating. Elizabeth
sat close together,
raised her arms,
watching as she
her,
There were Schusser and Morgan,
my
Blaming one another for
Never speaking a word of sincere
They
rode within
I
to Schusser's office.
up on the couch,
chewing
own
blood.
staring at the papers in
then. Seeing nothing. Empty.
wasn't there anymore.
He
was with
Schusser, very intimately
with Schusser. Inside him. Struggling, screaming
at
him
mentally,
trapped forever.
And
I'm in Elizabeth forever.
you'd talk to her,
another receptacle.
But she wants
It's
convince her to It's
me
not that
I
a kind of paradise,
let
me
really.
out once in awhile.
I
But
I
wish
could find
don't love her.
always near
her.
She never
lets
me
go.
You
see, a
man's material body might be stronger than a woman's. But when
comes
to a
Elizabeth
plasma body is
much
Really, Really,
.
.
.
stronger than
Weird Stories
I
am.
it
157
Morons at the Speed of Light
I
was charged with
The sun was
atmosphere had brations.
I
beating of
inspiration:
was
become
crystalized,
thought all
it
that kind of winter day in the
bloodless but amiable, the icy air was
the
city,
vi-
the collective
and
exhilarating with vibra-
Do you get me, oh do you see? A resonant day, when ramifications
normally inaccessible came into grasp the wrist.
The barren
beneath them
And
I
was
trees
returning to
like trained falcons
were the Earth's nerve endings; the sidewalk
tympanum.
its
strutting
through
sun, drinking in those vibes,
this exquisite
coming back
now: a young man finding the center of It
city.
if
those hearts in chorus; every tiny explosion in every piston-
casing in every car engine; the air frightening tion.
as
super-conductive of sounds and
could hear the heartbeat of the
I
was
still; it
medium, squinting
into touch with
who
at the I
was
all,
next
his youth.
was a long time ago.
That morning, semester, but
did offer
And
I
I
was thinking
I
ought to go back to school,
liked playing with the
band more—but,
after
after
all,
the
U of O
me a full scholarship—but then I'd have to move down to Eugene—
then
I
saw one.
You've seen them.
More and more called
them
of them,
as kids.
all
the time more, in
Ozone Zeros. You'd probably
all cities.
call
them
Goons, we nuts.
This
one was shuffling awkwardly along, stumbling and swaying. But you could
tell
stumbling.
He
he wasn't drunk or fucked up on reds—it wasn't that sort of It
seemed almost
deliberate, like pratfalling.
stepped onto the railroad tracks near Powell's bookstore, and
started tightrope-walking a railroad
He was orating to the air, hands before
rail.
Suddenly impossibly
adroit.
a gibberish soliloquy, flapping his long white
his grinning, twitching face, improvising doggerel for a line
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Morons at the Speed of Light
John Shirley
or two, then shouting threats at the leafless trees arching over the sidewalk, along the street with the tracks in sides of the mirror
"Don't
it.
you vegetable brains or
me
tell
I'm on both
trim your sex organs but
I'll
good, Pinocchio was underage and you could do time, monkeybars!"
He
had one
boot and one
pants-leg tucked into his
An
back and buttoned up wrong.
sticking out in
His tennis shoes were laced
in
an
intricate tangle,
buzzing back and forth, scanning the
air
out,
and
his shirt
institution-blue shirt.
and
with equally intricate abandon.
He seemed to be trying to see everything at once, and as a result nothing. He leaned ahead as he walked, and he walked blindly. I
tend to
and
that
seeing
such folk morons, though, of course, the term doesn't
call
They're not morons
clinically apply.
them
were
his eyes
stuck with me,
it
speaking.
strictly
My Dad
called
is all.
You pass at least one every day in a crowded city. It's amazing; how many of them there are, and how similar they are, and how frantic. I pitied them and wished I could help and wondered if they were actually happier than
The pity,
I.
mixed emotions, when
usual
at
them. Revulsion and
empathy and compassion. And—
-for an instant, as he passed I
looked
I
looked
me
mine—he saw!— our minds met
Help me,
me
barrier between
That's
what
I
us,
Oh,
this
and I act
thought
seen that day), into
perhaps carried on the
the ordinarily inaccessible waves
air,
way, they
in invisible
his glance said to
as words, but as feelings crystalline
I'd
and he looked
his thoughts.
wasn't always
I
"moron"
his eyes
at that instant,
special tide of vibrations filing the
revealing to
(the third
looked into
closer than usual,
and
pictures,
made me
this
way, there
is
a
dramas.
me.
and
it
came into my mind not was clear as day, as that
It
morning.
shit. I
was
stricken. Buzzing
on
that flicker of revelation.
him but something froze my tongue-he walked away. Or was carried away. I was left alone on that corner, thinking: he looks like a puppet dancing all clumsy on strings. Something is yanking him, I
turned to
call
sweeping him along!
walked on, wondering what he had done, why Something had decided to consume the poor sucker. I
this
Unguessable
two blocks later I saw another. where the derelicts and I was getting into downtown, now. Old Town, He tourists rub elbows, and a goon came stumbling out of a doorway.
And
was
just
short-haired
Really, Really,
and
clean, dressed pretty
Weird Stories
much
like
the others.
Same
159
i6o
Morons at the Speed of Light
John Shirley
symptoms. Declaiming nonsense hebephrenic chatter, something
you
their ugly fingers yes
like
like:
was axiomatic
it
"No
to
won't yes you
I
no you won't, them and
will
world will
affairs,
a
not them
us tonight
you
cocksucker and ugly together a terrible cold uneasy parasites and night-
you know now, thanks but no, no
mare-flesh-crevices thank you,
what I
.
."
.
And
tribe
recited.
Just as disheveled, hebephrenic harangue, a surrealist dia-
with that special rhythm, and the current, the recurrence of certain
words bers,
later.
know
word mix that somehow There came another, ten
noticed there was a certain rhythm and a
matched the one the other "morons" minutes
I
on.
prime num-
in a pattern almost like a code, or like the return of
sometimes even
like multiples
of a given integer. Purposeful—in a
cryptographic way.
The in
special air brought
me. Some days you're
realize
how
to
it
me, the unusual keenness
more awake than
just
you are on other days
asleep
.
you
it skillfully
(and
ball
under the cups too
and you misread; but paranoia is a
to see,
skull-fully?)
may prod you
it
awake; into discovering that consciousness
awakened
some days you
.
.
Sometimes paranoia confuses, switches the fast for
that'd
others;
skill,
into being a
a direction,
is
and
you use
if
little
more
in a certain
is
direction: the least comfortable one. I
had stumbled
Using
my
into this
.
.
.
this
method
senses consciously, honing
psychic razor blade that split divides a string;
my
.
my
.
.
attention into a superthin
neural channels like a sharp knife that
opening and exposing
my senses, making them
hurt for
that extra edge of sensitivity.
But haven't you noticed it—that some days the goons, the twitchers, the voices crying out in their personal wildernesses,
where, a
sinister presence, as if they're
ground of our I
A
saw one
living tableau as a
after the other,
on
seem
display, sort
to be every-
of in the back-
warning.
and every one seemed
to
tell
me
something.
pattern in their jabber, in their Brownian motions downi the street—
and
gestalt patterns, a connective matrix of behavioral characters
scared me. So after three hours
Not I
"I
needed help"
like "I
I
knew I needed
help; a partner,
I
it
mean.
need therapy," okay?
brought Jim Burbidge into
it.
Burbidge, he's a genius. Behind his
mind hums. He's a technological avatar, went and told him; we sat on those reed mats that
gaunt, bird-like veneer a mighty is
Burbidge.
make up
And
I
the only furniture in his apartment. (Are bookshelves furniture?
Bookshelves overflowed everywhere
.
.
.).
He
stopped toying with the
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Morons at the Speed of Light make
software he'd put together, software to listened with that urbane
He
and-he believed me. crossed legs went to
when he
felt like
it,
detachment of
sleep as
and
I
He
was
He was
waited.
I
a researcher for IBM,
almost expected a long tongue of computer
tape to start unrolling from his
But instead he
sense of Charles Fort; he
nodding
his poor posture, and thought and dreamed awake, and my
sat
his,
mouth with
the Answer.
My kind."
man.
said, "Let's meditate,
talking about the particular
brand of mindfulness meditation
he'd hatched: mostly with meditation you stay away from thinking, you
from
step back
it,
you
and
stay alert
receptive, but
you don't think—or
anyway, you're not identified with the part that does. But Burbidge had a
method— something he adapted from Raja yoga—
kind of mindfulness that took
command
associating minds,
something gaged I
sat
problem
my
back
A ball
at
The
hand
.
.
.
mind, not
sat across
portion, en-
breaths,
and then we did
that
.
my
chest. It
was a prism of
atten-
our observations, revealing hidden ranks of color. to
do
of the
lines
become
from me; we sank ourselves
it
then; in those days.
I
can't
has happened. I'm afraid to go that way, But then
The
some
just
to
.
of scintillant ice expanded in
knew how
mind
that part of the
entire .
he
straight;
Burbidge variation
tion, refracting I
inner "babbling hebephrenics," our free
moment, watched our
into the present thing, the
own
and commanded
a computer.
like
in the
with
of our
room and
superimpose, converge, and
air.
He
.
.
it
.
now. Too much
then
.
the skein of that day's events I
the room. Burbidge looked up
words from the
do
could see alertly,
my
life
in the
began to speak
.
.
seemed
to
geometries of
as
if
reading the
said the connective behavioral linkage
between
was a result of their suffering from the "morons," the same mental disease with the same symptoms; symptoms resulting from the same dilemma; alienation from our defacing monster of a the street babblers,
civilization,
and no
media bombardment,
excessive input, data overioad fugue;
no believable social shock from the modern world's war on
familiar ritualistic centers left in our lives,
symbols for centering on. Shell your nerves. Plausible. I
But-some
instinct told
me
it
was more. And
uglier.
If we recorded the morons' diatribes and unraveled the sub-sense of it, we somehow and
suggested an experiment.
codified that patterning
could perhaps contrive a means to cure these poor suckers and get rich touting the procedure, write books about it, clean up like Janov and
Bradshaw.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
i6i
i62
Morons AT THE Speed OF Light
John Shirley
Burbidge protested, "We'd have to spend months
can be?
hov^^ tedious transcribing tapes
any idea
at
And
Do
it!
follow^ing ill-smell-
ing lunatics around, acquiring the microphones w^e'd need, novelty
fast,
man. Take up
"Jim you're sick of IBM.
all
my time.
you have
it'd
Unlike yourself. Sparky,
They owe you
you solved
bigtime,
I
lose
its
work"
that bubble-
on the new post-Crays. I almost threw the / Ching this morning—and if I had— I can picture it, right now, it'd say: 'Proceed with that which may seem extraor-
magnetism data-save problem
for them, saved
them
millions
dinary and time consuming and profit thereby.'"
no such
"There's
Ching—you know,
line in the /
never actually threw? But okay. turn
it
If
we
into a conceptual art project
concrete pillars— sell
it
to the
and
Museum
sell
of
Ching
the /
from
get nothing else
that
it,
you
we can
the transcriptions glued to
Modern
Art for a half a mil-
lion bucks."
It
We
wasn't easy.
Burbidge had a
Jimmy I
lot
Carter in
of
it
up and
money
started again eight or nine times. But
saved and
we had more momentum
was a while ago.
months of meticulously recording
their
ing their pathways (like neural pathways in the
down
wanderings
the street, tracing
it
harangues and
mind of
Oh yes
.
.
to the next
BIG computers,
math
.
.
film-
city), their
.
.
.
to
the parallels,
.
.
.
Burbidge translated
the
.
the
from rooftops, we were able
graph and codify their patterns-in-common and oh yes
one "moron"
than
'76.
told you, this
After two
gave
.
at
it all
work.
into computerese. Slipped
it
into
one of the
We got results. Three weeks later we confirmed
and we had three
solid results of
all
that apparently
mean-
ingless labor.
i)
An
2)
A diagram for an inertialess faster-than-light drive, utilizing aspects of
3)
A
the
equation for the Unified Field Theory
UFT
equation
chemical formula for a remarkable fuel which applies to the
gram
for the
FTL
We had it right there in our hands. We told no one.
That's right.
going to take time to figure out there
how
was the question of applying
stolen, but
.
.
dia-
drive.
to demonstrate
for patents
.
.
.
We
all
It
was
this—and then
didn't
want
it all
.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
We
Morons at the Speed of Light
figured our fortunes were made.
find out
why it had
come from
all
background
tantalizing
hum
Still,
we
prudently decided to
the "morons". Because there
in the
whole phenomenon
that
was
that
seemed
to
imply external interference.
So we checked with the welfare agencies that took care of gibberers, and found out just who they'd been, before.
As a
I'm embarrassed to be seen reading the National Enquirer—
rule,
but maybe
it
out more often. Because Burbidge showed
appeared there
article that
mental
check
I'll
among
illness
Burbidge and
I
last
year remarking
firmed
me
an
rise in
research scientists.
got together at his apartment, sat in his personal medi-
contemplated the data— and had a simultaneous
tation,
most a dual
Then we checked
theoleptic revelation.
of insight:
fit
al-
the records and con-
it.
Most of our "morons" were former
chemists, physicists, engineers,
systems designers, mathematicians. But not
former
journalists, investigators—i.e., just
And
to the facts.
big things,
and someone stepped
found the machine, too.
brother, the
the notes
Marion County
on
of them. Eight were
all
people who'd
come too
close
these people had stumbled onto certain things, certain
and did a cruel number on them.
in
Changed them. With what? With a machine
We
on the very odd
that
makes them mad.
took pressure from Burbidge's older
It
District Attorney, to get the hospital records,
the "experiments."
We
found two machines,
actually,
and
God knows how many more there are about the country. We found one at Hardin Hospital,
New
York
City,
and one
in Salem's State Hospital, in
Oregon. Insane asylums. At Hardin, and the Salem nut-house,
known
as "an experimental electronic therapeuter,"
These EETs enclose the patient like that
mummify
Ones who
isn't
it,
I
is
what
is
for short.
electronic sarcophagi,
a portion of the living brain. They-and
mummy cases
mean THEY,
the
have insinuated themselves into the body of our society-they
put the poor guy into the hospital
EET
files
cruel
have
it),
EET and
"rephrase the neural channels" (as the
supposedly to straighten the guy out. Which
funny, considering what
it
is
funny,
does to them. Why'd they keep
using "therapeutic" devices that demonstrably
made patients worse.^ It was money from
part of a "Federal Program" and in order to keep getting the
the program, the hospitals had to continue the experiments under the
di-
rection of certain Federal Researchers. Follow the money.
Only those Federal Researchers
The
conditions under which
aren't really Federal Researchers.
the so-called patients
are only vaguely alluded to in the
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
files,
were
Of course.
first
arrested
though former associates and
163
i64
Morons at the Speed of Light
John Shirley was
family insist that in each case the researcher in question fine,
even exhilarated (as
after a great discovery), the
if
The day
she w^as "taken into custody."
fine, just
day before he or
the patient was taken a totally
unprecedented behavior arose—a wildness, a violence consistent with certain obscure psychotropic drugs, Burbidge says.
made them
their victims,
temporarily crazy— took
EET Scrambled
then destroyed their minds with
They
dosed
secretly
them
into custody,
eggheads. Better than
them—calls too much attention to them, to kill them. Every EET "patient" had been working on something to do with the Unified Field Theory, the drive, the fuel. We only know this through
killing
conversation with friends, family. Their notes, computer
experi-
files,
mental hardware vanished, of course.
The Big
But.
Discovery, being of
"moron's" former just as
we
all
paramount importance
emerges in
naturally
life,
the
in
his or her behavioral code,
exhibit unconscious obsessions in the emblematic expres-
sions of our entrenched day to day habits.
How had They found the scientists who were to somebody were monitoring computers used by research scientists, looking for certain types of equations You get it. But who was Somebody? If they were really government men, someone by now would have used the power in those equations—in weapons, in space travel, in some practical way to shore up our national power. And our country would have no military rivals, anywhere. We'd have imposed our will on the world by now So who were They?
be
their victims.-^ If
.
...
Or
it
.
.
would've been given to whatever huge corporations currendy
controlled the White
House and
they'd be
making money off
it.
Who
So follow the absence of money. If not the money— the motive. would benefit from suppressing this stuff? Take an E out of EET. No, purpose.
Maybe God put it
I
don't think they chose the acronym
there, to hip us to
it.
The ETs
on
don't want us
to invent certain things; perhaps they think we're too innately aggressive to
know what
amongst
they know.
We
can't
us, these extraterrestrials,
be
So they conceal agents
trusted.
some of whom
acquire posts of
fluence and affluence, and they use this influence and afluence to
mte the ET devices which
And poor
Burbidge
We were in las. We had
his
it all
the FBI!
.
.
in
mrn
in-
insti-
instimte our suppression.
.
apartment, arguing about what to do with the formuright there
And as we were
with
arguing.
a closet, as they were breaking
us.
I
said:
Run! Hide!
He
said:
They came, and took Burbidge.
down
the door.
I
Go
to
I
hid in
guess they didn't
know
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Morons at the Speed of Light
about me, because they didn't look for me. They must've been monitoring IBM's Pordand facilities. And They got all our notes and records on
Those Three Things. The key
And
to star-flight, to immeasurable power.
didn't see Burbidge again for months. Till the
I
saw him
at
Fourth and Broadway explaining to a
had nothing against
it
summer
lamp post
after.
due to the shapes of the clouds
I
that he
he could not commit himself to
personally, but
for any serious length of time
steel
it
at three,
and nine o'clock Eastern Standard Time.
seven,
Sure,
tried the FBI.
I
leave their offices the
You know what they thought. And Men In White came to get me .
.
as .
I
tried to
Just for an
"evaluation," they said, in the hospital. I
had been
half expecting
though, and
it,
and out through the parking garage. And in
I
ran back into the building,
why I've been
that's
hiding out
San Francisco, panhandling, playing the part of a guy—a harmless
guy—who took too much
acid,
way back when.
''Don't point that at me, dude.''
F4ey man,
it's
just
know what you
are.
gun—right? Or
a squirt
Okay? This looks
one of those transparent toy raygun
like
squirt
is it? I
know what
it
is—and
I
a raygun-style squirtgun. like
guns
and dime
at the five
store.
and dime stores anymore. You've been wandering Haight Ashbury too long. Now if you'll excuse me—' Waitaminnut now—You think Fm doing nothing all these years? I've been experimenting, found that certain variants on LSD can reveal who ''They don't have five
among
who human. And
us are the ETs and
you mix
it
Dick-he intended the book
Philip
found out the same things
that's
it's
me
stuff on
Come stuff
You
is
on,
all .
.
.
done, so
come
You
obvious he'd
I
paid you to
tell
me your
street people in the Haight,
and
go of my arm-no don't squirt that
outside, that's it-just here, to the sidewalk.
DMSO
Now-the
and the psychedelic variant that-ah.
see?
Their enforcers, the ones
it.
You
who
do!
dress
No, don't scream, that'll attract like cops. You see how many of
there are?
even the lamp post knows. No, not that one-that one over there. knows, man. It knows. I told it so a thousand times-and it did not
And It
me either
if you'll let
You're beginning to see
Them
it's
if
one book by
oh Jesus ..."
water mixed with
see?
message for me,
my paper on
going to go into
we're
it,
as a
this
-
"Don't squirt any chemicals on story,
they're sensitive to water
with certain chemicals— I got a clue from
contradict me.
Really, Really,
Weird
Stories
165
Silent Crickets
The milky moonlight, sifted by mercuric clouds, snickers through the dense woods in slippery shafts. The faint light laps at the crotches of trees and catches on tangles of bated branches, giving the moss the silver sheen of mold. The deciduous trees are in bunches infrequently invaded by a lone pine. Roots are choked with
fallen leaves.
Bared branches are
abstracted into atmospheric capillaries. In the inky
short conical
fir
tree a
moves slowly forward, into the crater left by its
man
crouches with a
trying to
make
booted
tive
feet gripping the
song of the
is
He
mud,
rifle
hand.
He
its
trunk;
its
lying
is
hunkers in the shallow
barrel catching the light
on
roots are
and
pit, his
tinting
it
the chirr of a sneaking raccoon and the repeti-
crickets.
The crickets go abruptly The man is on the alert. Something moves .36,
rifle in his right
noise as he can, and creeps
crushed under
up over the man's head.
The only sound
blue.
little
an uprooted pine. The huge dying pine
side, smaller frustrated trees
thrusting
as
shadows under a
silent.
invisibly
through the woods.
He
tenses, raises the
props the gunstock against his right shoulder, finger tightening
around the
The
trigger.
He
reaches for the safety catch.
Is it
one of them f
figure emerges.
man alone. The man with the gun, Buckley, curator of the Deepwood Museum of Modern Art, stands and waves. The stranger, his It's
a man, a
face only partially visible,
few side.
feet
nods and comes forward.
from Buckley, looking
at the
The man wears dungarees and
long
rifle
He
stands silently a
upright at the curator's
a white long sleeve
shirt.
The
night
conceals most of his features. "Are you Buckley?"
He
asks in a low, oily tone.
"Yes."
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley "I'm
.
.
Silent Crickets 167
Cranshaw. I'm from the
.
looking for you.
from your own talk to
you
in
New York Art Association.
believe your story
I
lips,
anyway.
.
.
had a
I've
more or
.
similar
.
.
less. I
experience.
.
.
of sexual reproduction are there?" Buckley asks, his
voice sounding strange to
him
in the sucking darkness.
and
there's mitosis
and among humanity
cross-pollination
good old—"
there's
"Among humanity ing in a rapid
clip.
there's
something
else,"
Buckley interrupts, speak-
"A mutation. Have you heard
doesn't create a 'new' vision, but only siphons
where
sion of reality
haps
business,
Miro and
.
"How many kinds .
it
to
."
Matta and Picasso
.
came
I
A strange
Buckley, burning eight hundred thousand dollars worth of
.
been
your study and your servant— she was quite flustered— said
that you'd run out here after burning the paintings.
"Well
I've
w^ant to hear
that abstraction
the abstract or surrealist
if
it
it
an
said that
artist
from another dimen-
the physical law? Perhaps. Per-
is
artist steals
from
that world's images,
from that other plane long enough, the creamres inherent to that world an
will take
us as a
interest in us
.
"Maybe.
Come
pearing? Well,
I
back to your smdy and
was
visiting
.
we'll talk
all
Matta when
about it-"
the artists who've been disapI
saw something happen
to
can't describe—"
"All this is interesting
"My
.
will replace its parents."
"No. Haven't you been reading about
I
here. Perhaps they'll use
I
Cranshaw, a child
him.
come
keep thinking of the words of the dadaist Jean Arp: Art is Someowing out of man-like the child out of its mother
insemination.
day,
to
transferring themselves through a kind of paintbrush
medium,
like fruit,
and contrive
but rather xenophobic," the stranger interrupts. much like yours as I had thought. It's not
experiences were not so
easy to be a curator these days,
God
knows. Those snotty young paint-
But come back and have a drink with me, Buckley. We'll work things out from there. Don't be afraid." He reaches out a hand to Buckley's
ers.
shoulder.
Buckley steps backwards, his hand tightens on the barrel of the gun. If like a country this man is from the Art Association, why is he dressed hick?
Cranshaw touches Buckley's
Buckley tion.
as
He
much
feels
it
steps
shoulder.
Suspicions confirmed.
then, the warning tingle, the onrush of activated abstrac-
back again,
raises the gun.
"You
lied to
me," he murmurs
to the night as to Cranshaw.
Another movement from the
far side
of the fallen tree catches his eye.
roots. Pure moving anachronism issuing from the areola of upmrned
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
It
John Shirley
i68 Silent Crickets
was the
abstract figure of
Marcel Duchamp's
own independent
case given
its
egesis of a
few moments of time
A
life.
Nude Descending A Stair-
study of strobed motion, the ex-
into cubism.
The
viewed
creature,
liter-
glowing against the tenebrous curtain of the woods, resembles a
ally,
robot strung in Siamese twin extrapolations of hallucinogenic acid
trail like
per-colored tin cans and
its
a mechanical cape.
itself,
It
leaving behind a
might be
built
of cop-
torso (futurist extrapolation of pivotal rota-
Moving toward Buckley, random tumble of spastic geometry, a carnivorous handy kitchen appliance. The figure is a vector for the bizarre, leaving behind it a wake tion)
is
built in striations like the gills of a shark.
a
it is
of abstracted
brush distorting into a vision of Siamese
trees,
dancers; tree trunks
made Rousseau
primitive
and
triplet belly
perfectly cylindrical-
smooth, branches becoming pin-cushion spines. But the voice of the vector
is
"I
human.
couldn't wait any longer.
"No," the stranger
came the
"Buckley,"
come
who
I
had
to
come. Has he been readied?"
called himself
Cranshaw
replies,
"not
just yet."
voice from the golden arachnid whirlpool,
here.
Buckley pulls a slim penlight from his pocket and shines
Cranshaw's pits
of
face.
Munch
proportional,
He
A Modigliani
on
simplification, that face, with
hollowness around the eyes. The man, while outwardly is
made
petual sardonic smile is
gasps.
it
of rigid planes, unmoving eyes, the same per-
two inches
to the left of his nose.
One
of his eyes
considerably higher than the other. His arms are blocked into rectan-
gular surfaces with ninety-degree corners. "It's all right,"
worry."
It
says the Cranshaw-thing,
its
voice fuzzy now. "Don't
reaches out a squared-off hand to Buckley's upraised
touches the barrel with a gende caress at the same
moment
rifle,
that the cu-
rator touches the trigger.
The gun explosion,
doesn't go off. There
comes a
faint puffing
is
a conspicuous silence. Instead of an
sound.
soap bubble off Cranshaw's chest and trees. Desperately,
Buckley
A globular bullet bounces like floats
feels the barrel
gers like an exhausted erection, rubbery
piece of the barrel and puts
it
to his
of the gun.
and
a
up through the clawing
pliant.
It
sags in his fin-
He
breaks off a
mouth. Licorice. The gun melts into
He flings it away but already the tingling chill is traveling up his arm. He looks at the two abstract beings standing patiently by, sees them reticulate and waver like an unstable TV picture. He
a snakelike abstraction.
looks
down
into the
at his body, sees his legs sprout roots
humus under
his
new
which rapidly burrow
hooves.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Screens
Out
there the air
noon,
toxic; the land
is
the bruised color of
is
mud
nearly barren.
is
The
sky,
dump. The oozing
at a city
even
at
plain has
the sheen of a puddle coated with gasoline: a slick of diseased rainbows. It
would
eat
In here, air
away
it's
my
skin
if I
safe, stainless,
were to step into
warm, shaded
and plenty of food and room
to
it
unprotected.
in amicable colors,
with clean
stroll.
I'm leaving here forever, and I'm going out there. Into the
ment of This
is
that twitches,
at the date
suppose, 140 years ago.
I
I
would
I
met Freda Gunderson
conclude
I
my assessment
I
in Austin, Texas.
wish
I
had.
have.
when we
year, she
record,
when
this log.
of conditions
of
was born about 250 years ago,
around,
ter
from time to time, with the clumsy move-
my last tape my remrn.
the final entry,
on Earth I
murk
the subhumans. I'm going out there
If I
I
should have died
hadn't married Freda,
,
met.
asked
at
More
me
to
Solarsong Farm, in
New Mexico.
It
was win-
than two centuries ago. In the spring of that
marry
her.
beyond the adobe walls of the Hackman hacienda grounds, was stippled soft orange and blue with cacms flowers. Near the balcony a mellow wind stirred one of the palms that Hackman had transplanted, so that it nodded like a drunk musician over a piano.
The
desert, unfolding
In nightgown and bathrobe, Freda and
I
were
sitting at the
second-
floor terrace, overlooking the thoroughly irrigated garden, listening to
the shuss of the sprinklers, the chatter of
pened on
this oasis
and couldn't
Freda's red-gold hair
and
fair
skin
of the garden, to me; the arc of her
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
some
desert bird
who'd hap-
believe his luck.
and blue eyes seemed an extension
full
breasts in the filmy blue negligee
John Shirley
lyo Screens
was
in thematic
concordance with the great arc of the planet around
We held hands and sipped
and
tea,
all
the
trivial
And I was
we
things
brim over with the significance of intimacy. OK,
to
sure:
I
impressed with her. Freda was an arcological
master's degrees in botany, zoology,
from high school
in love.
scientist,
with
and climatology. Most people
lucky to have one master's. Freda, at thirty-four, she'd graduated
seemed
said
was
had
us.
are
But then,
three.
at thirteen years old.
good to see you happy this morning, Ricky," she said. "You're moody, most of the time." Her English was perfect, but her faint Swedish accent clung to her talk like some intoxicating ethnic perfume. "It's
moody?
"I'm a
little
too
I
guess
civilized for
glinting lozenge of the
it's
this place. It's
me.
And
Glass's
a
little
Maybe glanced down at the
too perfect here.
people—"
I
huge greenhouse, a hundred yards away, on the
far side
of the mansion's groimds. "—watch us
see out
from the greenhouse, but you couldn't see
range surveillance cameras there,
when we walked about
I
knew.
the grounds or
And
went
all
You could
the time." in.
They had
they set watches
long-
on us
into town. "Daniel Glass
is
security paranoid."
know what you mean,"
"I
Glass have Gaia. I
The
more
in
she said diplomatically. "But
common
than you
natural world. Glass
admit.
like to
I
think you and
You both
winced, remembering Glass's poetry, recited after one of his Vibra-
Some ghastly Castenada-ish number about Up The Sky. Mawkish stuff. My analytical Freda wouldn't know good poetry if it nibbled her earlobe. tory Sermons.
Spirits
Holding
"Glass
is
a poet technically/'
ed, conscious that
we were
He makes
pocket.
New
Age
us
sit
I
said.
the Cactus left-brained
"But mostly what he is—"
A
puppeteer. He's got
on those
New Age
leader.
Going
hesitat-
Hackman
in his
cushions while he preaches
drivel— not only drivel but fifteen years outdated— about
merging into a new society of Vibratory harmony.' Preaching
and screwing
I
probably being recorded, and then plunged
recklessly on, "—is a despot.
his
love the
a poet, too."
is
half the
women
to lead us
all
in the project—Hie guy
to the
"The Starsong colony is not
promised land
Glass's idea. It
is
self-denial
a classic cult
in the sky."
was Dr. Branheimer's. And
Papa's."
"That's the point, Freda."
of
I
let
my hair out I'd let my didn't approve of my style. He
go of her hand and brushed
my eyes. My thick black hair had grown long and
beard grow. Freda's
father. Dr.
Gunderson,
unruly,
and
wasn't enthusiastic about Freda's romance with a liberal arts major, anyway. "Glass has co-opted your father's ideas."
1
glanced to the
Really, Really,
east,
where
Weird Stories
John Shirley had
the sun
Model, the
Screens
just risen
cate in the L-5 orbit.
I
Hackman had
long way lion,
but
off,
with
dome and
was the Arcology
I
make out the glint of his
could
green-glass center;
its
names
I
to repli-
The guard was
a
tacky golden-sun medal-
could imagine his
he checked
as
like
wanted
the hacienda-styled mansion
given over to the project personnel.
which never wavered using code
that
could see one of the guards from the Glass family
crossing the lawns between the that
dome
over the big geodesic
self-sustaining ecological unit that the project
tightly beatific smile,
with the other guards on his 'fone,
in
Laser and Aurora and Icemelt. Every one of
them a
former junkie or acidhead or near schizophrenic basket case that Glass
had put back together
own
in his
preferred reconstruction;
complain about Glass. Hackman adores him.
useless to
"It's
project
Half a
billion dollars of
it.
Glass
She stood up, came around the table to
is
sit
my
head. "Ricky
.
.
.
by me, to take
them
move up
to
little
She went on
"Come
off
hastily,
"You can go
made
a
the date of the final is
going. Soon.
over a year." Stricken by the implications,
I'd
it.
hands.
warning
act rang a
launch. We're going to the colony— I mean, the project
A
my
while you were in Santa Fe, they
decision. Glass has convinced
Next July.
the
part of the project to stay."
Something about the thought-out formalism of the bell in
And
Hackman's money and the money of Hackman's business
is all
associates.
her.
making them
dedicated to the American-born guru.
utterly
stared at
I
with us, Ricky."
be dead weight. I'm a
literary
academic. Useless! Just
another guy pawing through the Lake poets, and Whitman,
Jeffers,
Blake—and Yeats and Byron when they were feeling close to nature.
my
Those are
people.
technophilic enough.
how
I
feel
I
don't belong
And
on a space
lot,"
she said earnestly, looking
eyes. "You wrote the best promotional material;
backers.
You know
greenhouse—and
They would have "Me. Sure
species,
I
.
.
.
if
it
me in the
helped us get a
lot
of
a bit about environmental science, you're willing to
land— Dr. Branheimer
in the
in the sky.
me—he knows
about him."
"You've helped this project a
work
colony. I'm not
Glass would never tolerate
said
you were a
lot
of help in the
you were to marry me, that would make
to let
Freda,
it
definite.
you come." I
don't
want
to go.
I
like
the idea of the arcology
like the chance to preserve a lot of plant species and animal
away from the acid
rains.
But
I
don't want to live there. There's
another way-you can stay here on Earth and work to save
it.
With me."
"I can't, darling. I just cannot. It would break my father's heart. And I have given my life to this. It is what my father and I always planned for.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
171
John Shirley
172 Screens
I
have to go.
But
we
If
you love me,
We can come back some-
go with me.
you'll
."
time, Ricky
.
.
never did.
We were
married two days
later.
And two
years later—it took
them a
year longer than they expected—we took the shuttle to the low-orbit
and then took one of Hackman's new
tion,
colony in the L-5
The colony was,
orbit.
as
I
sta-
freighters to the Starsong
knew it would
be,
cramped,
malodorous, gravitationally inconsistent, and an endless prescription for
work It
And
that
was never
quite filled.
was growing, though. Module by module, after a year
and a
half of
claustrophobic stink of pressure
and
suits,
woman to faulty sealants in the EVA units The
was
colony's garden in space
his
money back
for him.
give ourselves a holiday
.
.
expanded
into the void
The
two men and a
after losing
...
it
was beginning
and we were
thriving
manufacture the zero-g gjmcracks that
make
it
murderously tedious work, of enduring the
to pay off. starting to
Hackman had hoped would was
pressure
easing.
We
decided to
.
Glass didn't share our optimism. Glass, in
The
share anything
fact, didn't
dorm
with us but what he had
to.
section with his toadies.
He hadn't found paradise on the colony, and he
rest of the
sure as hell hadn't converted any actually
work.
And he was
new
to get him.
followers; worse, he'd
had
to
convinced the U.S. government—which had in
fact tried to stop the project, claiming
ous"—was out
time he holed up in his
it
was "uncontrollable and danger-
So when Hackman announced that he'd
come up and check
thorized a couple of senators to
au-
us out. Glass de-
cided they were spies for the Pentagon. "The Pentagon wants to take us over so
it
can launch a
here!" Glass raved. "They'll
They'U
We
start
against the PanArabic Republic
first strike
World War
make
from
the colony into an orbital missile base!
III!"
laughed at him.
So Glass simply appeared on the colony's announcing that
we had
to
make
"prevent the fascists from destroying
Glass— forgive
me—had
cracked.
TV
monitors one morning,
"the ultimate sacrifice" in order to
on
life
To be
Earth!"
fair.
Earth was experiencing a
vigorous political upheaval just then because of the Famine
.
.
.
What was
going on below us was enough to make anyone believe the end of the
world was coming. Because
You know about
it
was.
Maybe you don't—no The Famine came because
the Famine?
anyone's going to hear
this.
.
Really, Really,
.
telling
when
.
Weird Stories
John Shirley It
Screens 173
came because
in the twentieth century
time to deal with the
and we were
cutting
oned without
thought
we had
plenty of
The atmosphere was
A little.
back on pollution.
synergistic reactions. It
random chemicals
we
pollution problem.
air
vast,
assumed
But that thinking reckthat the wild variety of
would just sort of float around harmlessly. Stupid thinking. Some of them reacted with one another, and with other environmental factors. We should have seen it released into the atmosphere
coming in the 1980s, when to
form acid But
it
was
rain,
and other chemicals combined
sulfur dioxide
began gnawing
at the
biosphere
in the year 2018 that the sky
The phenomenon to the colony.
It
hit the
fell
.
.
.
apart.
news media a week
after
Freda and
started with the catalyst. Terranoxin
I
moved
was a compound
By
released into the air by a variety of industrial polluters.
itself,
Terra-
noxin was not found to have a negative environmental impact; but a
dis-
solution of the ozone layer had radically increased ultraviolet radiation.
And
UV
Terranoxin, exposed to
action that boosted stability. It
formed a
it
radiation, experienced a synergistic re-
into a catalytic
slick
inert molecules binding
on
compound
capable of runaway
oxygen and nitrogen into
itself.
the oxygen and nitrogen produced by living things.
Essentially,
catalyst will
is
making
pollution that
atmosphere's quickly
work through
its
capable of expanding exponentially.
catalyst
ability to
became
made
it
The
medium and
We
reaction
survive; a
had succeeded
pollution. Pollution that reproduced.
absorb and
filter
pollution
ate
Carbon dioxide con-
tinued to be produced, but oxygen and nitrogen weren't.
began small—but a
in-
plant surfaces, which forged a long chain of
in
The
was overwhelmed and
irrelevant.
Oxygen and nitrogen were
rapidly diminishing; the air
was becoming
unbreathable. Animals died; the food chain was shattered. People
moved
and narrower enclaves of breathable air. Great hurricanes of poisonous air swept over the land, smothering whole cities. The disruption turned cropland into dust bowls. Oxidation of ocean-dumped
into narrower
organic wastes and the pernicious action of pesticides worked with
Terranoxin to destroy the oxygen-production capability of the
seas.
The world moved indoors. The urban domes were hastily thrown upand many were almost as quickly torn dovm in the riots. Only the wealthy could afford a healthy stress
on the
Sure, Glass:
it
Glass-with
diet,
even in the U.S.
And
the consequent
planet's social systems generated massive political strife.
was easy
to be paranoid.
his pinpoint pupils, his
ways been a paranoid, manipulating Really, Really,
Weird Stories
shaven head, his anorexia-had
his followers
al-
with a masterful pater-
John Shirley
174 Screens nalism to close ranks around him.
To be an
extension of him, a buffer
against the world.
So
I
can't say
I
was surprised when Glass opened the
sabotaged the life-support I
air locks,
and
seals.
was doing a systems check on the escape pods when
it
happened.
I
was the only one near enough to use them. I heard the others screaming through the intercom. It was more horrible hearing it filtered. It was like they had a big mechanical hand clamped over their mouths.
Get into a pressure That's
suit;
when I saw
the
thought:
I
find Freda.
had been ready
Slashed. Glass
suits.
for this for
a while.
The
was going. Understand
air
that.
The
air
was
going. Freda
The instruments
the other side of the colony, working in the agribubble.
me
told
it
was one of the
first
sections to
become
was on
a vacuum. She was a
goner.
There was nothing I
I
could do.
was numb. Mechanically, and
tion, until
I
I
hit the
I
switch that
I tell
been sabotaged.
would put
me
under,
I
me
in
set
I
too.
The
with
relief. I
had frozen
was going
all
gas
is
years. Theoretically.
suspended animation
know why
limits
... So
I
was going
nerves melted away.
I
supposed to preserve you for about three hundred
Some people the
to test
pod
claim it
out.
work for only a few decades. I've got news for the skeptics.
it'd
from the dead hulk of the colony,
ejected
more than two hundred years. Maybe a meteor strike, damaged mechanism into action. Or a long-term effect of the pod's launch systems.
I
don't know. But
After two hundred years the escape
Their orbital drones, maintaining the
Nothing humane about
city,
didn't
stir
it.
where the airport used from the pod
.
.
city's
jarring
some on
radiation
.
pod launched
itself.
solar-power transmission
picked up the pod's signal and brought
side the
to die,
was flooded
all.
after
matically.
had
me.
one had had a chance don't
its
my
to die with Freda, after
right with
The suspension
I
for ejec-
should have launched immediately. Eventually, the
It
guilt that
That was
tions,
it
realized that the pod's ejection system
suspended animation would reach
I
the time.
all
was picked up and rescued.
As the gas put
No
myself that
got into the escape pod.
it
down. More or
They put me down
sta-
less auto-
a few miles out-
to be.
for a couple days. I'd used almost
Really, Really,
no measur-
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Screens 175
able oxygen in suspension, so there
them
OK—but
looked
I
days'
worth
spent
left. I
warmed-over corpse, which was maybe what I was. I had mental images of old horror movies I'd seen as a
kid.
George Romero
was
my
Still, I I
was a few
feeling like a
self
I
dovm
the electrolytic solution,
saw the acid ooze, the nightmare
window
But when the weather cleared, like
I
glass.
sky;
That
saw the
suits.
mash, and
when
Looking out the
could see that the atmos-
Maybe
the dying face of a sick old man.
of the dome, rising
ate the
I
repaired the pressure
I
phere was pitting the pod's
moon,
faces.
image for those two days.
sucked
could make myself work,
ports,
about walking corpses. Rotting
stuff
it
wasn't Earth.
pale, familiar face of the
And I saw the
smudged and segmented,
curving gleam
Big as a
at the horizon.
mountain.
Kansas
City.
A grief. A terrible
grief that could not
be encompassed by any poetry
who
could fashion. Beyond the sick grief and horror of a mother
missed her child for days, and finds
own
well,
grief of a
his
body broken and
rotted in her
and wonders how long he'd suffered dovm there man who realizes that, through his own bumbling .
gence, he has infected his wife and
I
has
.
.
Past the
self-indul-
newborn baby with AIDS. Even more
than grief for Freda. Grief for a planet.
They hadn't found a way did, it came too late.
to contain or reverse the catalyst.
Protected, for a while, by the pressure
toward the dome. The sky was a lines
suit, I
ceiling of
Or
if
they
slogged through the bogs
cobwebs.
I
remembered some
from Gerard Manley Hopkins:
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil. And wears mans smudge and shares mans smell: the soil is
bare now, nor can foot
And for all this, There
nature
is
feel,
being shod.
never spent;
lives the dearest freshness
And though
deep
down
the last lights off the black West
Oh, morning
at the
But that was the
went
brown brink eastward springs-
bitterest drink at the
There would be no morning Really, Really,
things;
at the
Weird Stories
wake: Hopkins was wrong.
brown brink
eastward.
They had
John Shirley
176 Screens
Or the world
killed the world, finally.
poisonous ooze. But
a sort, in the
on
a
bathroom
wall
as
I
was
it
knew it. There was life here, of life the way obscene doggerel
poetry.
is
And Freda was dead. I wanted to be dead, too. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the faint hope
that they might
have preserved something green and something feathered under the
dome. There might be many such areas of
terraforming the Earth somewhere.
ironically, I
used to have a
air
away some of the gunk
had radioed
faulty,
it still
in
It
was down
to a pilot light
burned.
that clung to the lower part of the
to them,
KANSAS CITY: ARLK
and received no
reply.
I
But the
air
if I
dome; read
my
Perhaps
radio was
lock opened, sliding creakily aside.
chamber of milky
The
lock sealed behind me. Poisonous
A
Or
per-
died out there.
less
in.
cleaned
56.
or they weren't monitoring those frequencies anymore.
haps they didn't care
hissed
me.
lock was a man-high square panel flush with the dome.
the blocky, flaking lettering: I
hope
torch for
fair
on a grimy gas oven now. But
The
preservation; they might be,
I
stepped into a feature-
plastic walls. Startlingly pristine, after the bogs. air
drained away; breathable
green arrow flashed overhead.
I
air
unscrewed the helmet.
Brassy smells. Plastic. Detergent.
A ball of warmth expanded in me. I was going to see someone alive! Maybe there 'd be a welcoming committee and a big to-do. Fine. Let them paw me, gape at me, tear my clothing for souvenirs. It was all human contact. It was healthy life. It was a stinging reply to the flat gray hopelessness I'd crossed through on my way here. I needed human
contact.
The smooth, waxy wall dilated an opening. Beyond was a long, empty hallway. They had to decontaminate me. I followed the hallway to its end: a shower room where a gray uniform hung on a peg. I
stripped and showered.
I
Germ-killing ultraviolet lights in the
uniform:
conform
to
Padding
The doors
my
soft,
I
zipped
the hall in
parted.
came on
in the ceiling as
durable paper of
shape as
down
could smell a disinfectant in the water.
my
it
some
soft gray slippers,
poles, either side.
toward
It
I
dried.
felt it
I
came
rolled
I
dressed
contract to
to an elevator.
Something within was examining me. feet in diameter,
it
I
up.
chrome sphere about two impression
kind.
It
was a
dull
with two knobs at opposite
me like a beach ball. I had the
distinct
was observing me. Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Was
Screens 177
as a poinriess
and
left?
left their
monument
Had
the
robots to eternally maintain the empty
city
The automatons of
the place?
them?
to
took a deep breath to calm myself. "I'm Richard Gale Mazursky.
I
From
the Starsong colony. I've been in suspended animation— according
computer
to the suspension
two It
rolled
We
in the escape unit,
Look—can you
centuries.
back into the
down many, many ly
was
this all that
inhabitants died
take
elevator.
I
me
it
was, uh, for
more than
to a ... a person?"
accompanied
it,
and we rode
silently
levels.
arrived at another bland corridor, pale blue walls, the ceiling faint-
Muzak was playing from somemake out any definite tune. I accom-
glowing, plush white synthetic rug.
where; so homogenized
couldn't
I
panied the machine through an archway into a simple apartment.
room,
fifteen paces to a side, containing soft
slots in it,
one
waiting,
was a
?*.
photo of myself.
dun
rectangular couches,
and on A large screen on the wall was A question mark. A big black one. Followed by an old
and a
wall,
A
It
toilet.
lit,
had been taken not long before
I
went up
to the
was a blowup of my small corner of a group photo, a publicity shot of the project planners. My expression was rueful, faintly impatient; beside me, all that was visible of Freda was her shoulder. My
Starsong colony.
It
gut contracted, and I
It's
looked
at the floor. "Yeah, that's
me. Or was me."
at the screen as a picture of the colony appeared.
looked up
X was marked over "Yeah.
I
it.
And
gone. I'm pretty sure I'm the only survivor.
a couple of centuries since
Then an
a question mark.
I
Was
I
right? Is
it
went under?"
A + appeared on the screen. A plus. Positive. Meaning affirmative. A picture of a food tube appeared on the screen, and then a question mark. Moths with razor wings jittered in my stomach. "No, it this time-/ want to see some people" mean thanks. Look, I The silver ball rolled out the door behind me. There was no way to I
wasn't hungry.
shut the door.
It
was only
a slice out of the wall.
There they were. People. And a big luminous gray-white screen. The screen filled half the wall and dominated the room. The other three walls were gende pastels of blue, green, and yellow; everything I was to see
was done
ions.
On
in the
same
reductionistic simplicity.
No decor, a few cush-
these were four people with their backs to me.
They were dressed
in bright colors,
and
their clothing
styled like mine, but with
no two
of their clothes bled as
tie-dyed, spreading
Really, Really,
Weird
if
Stories
cut precisely alike.
was jumpsuit-
The primary
colors
out from the centerline of
John Shirley
lyS Screens
the body. I
It
me
reminded
of a fad that had been going before Freda and
Earth. Kirlian clothing.
left
changed
responded to your bioelectric
It
colors, eventually set in color patterns that
Their hairstyles were similar— sort of
distinctive to you.
was
pageboy-ish, but each
pixie-ish, sort
Their eyes were fixed on the screen, rapt but placid, as
was
afraid to
speak
The ambience was
of
with
listening
if
with
was soundless.
at first, to
fragile
and
faintly distinct.
great respect, though the image I
field,
were supposed to be
break the pervading sense of rapport.
were intruding on a church
felt as if I
it. I
service.
What was But
I
I
doing here? Maybe
needed them. The hunger
for
human
touch; the hunger in
hi.
I'm
.
.
.
I
was a bad memory,
in
to these people.
my hands made my fingers
my lips
tremble
burned for conversation. "Uh—
me
excuse me, the robot brought
here
.
.
.
I'm Richard
Mazursky."
No odd
reaction.
feeling
I
The chrome
was
alone.
left
I
saw the
The people on
my speech. Were
hadn't acknowledged
pose
out of the room, and
ball rolled
they
had the
the couches hadn't deaf.-^
The young man with
girl blink.
I
silky
Were they
moved
—
blond hair shifted
his
slightly.
Maybe
I
was being snubbed because
I
had
violated
some arcane
rule
of etiquette. I
looked
For the
at the screen. It
time
first
on a naked,
was the only
One had
knob and a notch
A soft silvery light.
took in the image. Four rubbery gray cubes marching
I
gelatinous gray plain,
exactly alike.
light source.
.
.
.
one
after the other.
a notch. Another
had a
The cubes weren't
crater in
Another had a
it.
Approaching from the horizon's vanishing point, a
procession of white rubber cones
slid
over the ground, five of
them
to
The procession of cubes intersected the path of the The cubes stopped as if pitched up against a brick wall; then the cones stopped. The cubes turned red, the cones green. "They win," the woman said, in a pleasant voice. Not too toneless, not
the cube's four. cones.
too expressive. "Yes," think.
I
my throat. "Evidently the, ah, cones have won. I um, instruct me in the significance of this? Is
said, clearing
Anyone
care to
it,
religious?" I'd I
spoken extra
loudly.
No
one so much
was shaking. "You people have a
past every day?
I
as twitched.
visitor
from two centuries
mean, didn't your systems inform you?
speak English, and
this is
Kansas, Toto
.
.
.
I
just
You wouldn't get that,
Really, Really,
in the
heard you I
don't
Weird Stories
John Shirley suppose
.
.
.
Something.
know
that
No
I
Screens 179
Look—just direct me to the nearest park. Or greenhouse. want to know that something green survived. I need to ."
.
.
response.
looked
I
something that looked
Nearby
at the screen.
three spindles amoebically
it,
birthing a sphere—it
The image had changed.
a pincushion, waving
like
made my
merged
eyes hurt.
to
become
When
saw
a larger spindle,
looked away,
I
I
pins frantically.
its
could
I
still see the images for a moment, tenuous as flashbulb blurs. I knelt beside the gjrl. "Can you hear me?" I whispered. No reaction. Chin propped in hands, she lay on her stomach, her legs closed and straight out behind her. A slightly Asiatic cast to her skin and eyes, the shape of her face. There was a flush in her cheeks, and her brown eyes
were feel
shining.
the
No,
wanted
to touch her. Just to
that the
world wasn't dead.
commit a solecism
in her.
This could be
her.
To know
alert. I
told myself. You'd probably
life
I
She seemed healthy,
a religious ritual of
She blinked, because
it-
was time
some
if
you touched
kind.
for her to blink.
Her
eyes followed the
jockeying procession of cones, spheres, cusps, the shifts in color screen. I
The
digital
images were
reached out a hand to her cheek,
could
feel
on
the
reflected in perfect miniature in her eyes.
her body heat on the
tips. I
my
fingers trembling so near
I
snatched the hand back.
arms around upraised knees, and waited. Sometimes I watched the screen or the roiling shadows it threw on the bare walls. But the images, though simplistic, were disturbing. Their tenacity in repeated Wait.
sat back,
I
patterns of mobility, their gelatinous activity-something about
gested living beings.
Hours
sifted by.
looked up. The
I
my
pressed
When I
face into
became aware
it
sug-
my knees, and waited.
that the
room was
darkening,
I
screen was blank except for four shivering green patterns
running the width of the screen. Wavelength patterns. Up and down, up and down. EEGs, I supposed. The four strangers were asleep, lying on their cushions.
Swallowing I
slept.
The
my frustration,
I
stretched out
on a
cushion. After a while
My dreams were blank.
increased light from the screen
snaking cylinders-each
slightly distinct
bery gray-white pincushion, with
seemed
woke me. The
alien to the other objects.
its
screen
showed four
from the others-circling the rubmass of out-thrust
prickles.
It
A departure in style.
Without squeeze tube was lying on the rug beneath my couch. were They the others. appetite, I sucked the faintly spicy mash, watching
A blue
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
i8o Screens
eating, too,
watching the screen.
from a hose
One
ion.
in the wall,
disposed of my tube and sucked water
I
used the chemtoilet, and returned to
my
cush-
of the cylinders was bending, wrinkling at the middle near the
As
spiny button.
which vanished.
I
watched,
felt
I
a
pressed one of the pincushion's spines—
it
chill in
my gut corresponding with
the instant of
the spine's disappearance.
OK. The pincushion was me.
moved
I
room. The pincushion moved away from
to a corner of the
The people
the cylinders.
room hadn't moved, but their images some other way. A group of eight-
in the
had. So they controlled their images
sided polyhedrons marched from the horizon toward the cylinders
.
.
.
I looked away from the screen. Reluctantly this time. Hours passed. More games, if that's what they were, were played out
on
the screen.
was
like
ing,
it
"Entropy check" once. Otherwise the day
said,
And
passed.
it
And
slept.
I
And
the next morn-
started again. Just the same.
went
I
Someone
the one before.
for a walk.
I
found more rooms with more people
More
identically occupied.
or less
who work in
other, but distinct as people
them,
in
the others. Distinct from one an-
like
a shopping mall are: variations
of a theme. They are generally of the same physical type— the type
used to
who
deodorants and wine coolers and Diet Coke on TV. in the other buildings. The streets were empty. I saw no old people. The occupants of the apartments ignored
was the same
It
no
sell
children,
me. Sometimes they did a
little
maintenance, assisted by small ro-
light
bots like metal and plastic crustaceans; the litde robots cleaned the
dome, vacuumed
floors,
expunged
fungi.
Sometimes
I
caught the town's
inhabitants doing light calisthenics, eating, using the toilets, even copulating in a
mechanical sort of way. They didn't
kiss
they never took their eyes from the screen during I
followed a young
man
as
all
they did
these
rode the elevator to the roof.
It
spiral
it.
And
activities.
he trotted purposefully through the
he watched a projection of a rubbery
We
when
halls as
followed by a pincushion.
was crowded with naked watchers
sunning themselves, in silence, lying on their backs, eyes staring upward.
The young man
stripped and lay
on
his
back with the others, soaking up
the sunlight and staring at the trapped sky. Overhead, gigantically magnified,
eral
projected holographically onto the
dozen geometric forms
same shimmying
stately
out as
under the dome, were
sev-
one pincushion, performing the
minuets of meaninglessness.
Sickened by claustrophobia, city stretched
circling
air
far as
I
I
looked away from the projection. The
could see on three sides.
The
Really, Really,
great geodesic
Weird Stories
John Shirley was
Screens
lost in the faint blue mist of distance.
The buildings were shaped like
cones, like blocks, like spheres. Far away was one white pyramid. There
were no
trees,
no
birds,
nothing growing. Nothing green anywhere, ex-
on me: my uniform had begun to change color. to be somewhere. They must have preserved something. went back down to the first inhabited room I'd seen. Things were
cept It I
had
unchanged
there.
sat
I
Egg shapes,
then.
down,
thinking, glancing at the screen
faintly distinct, circling a pincushion.
vanced toward the pincushion. "Fuck
The
encircling
went on. The
After three hours of
women—the one with that
on
"Look
me,"
at
woman and
waving
spines at
its
split.
Fuming,
shouting.
but
my
low
I
I
have to
insist.
I'm sorry
She
I'm
if
just stared.
could see the screen images repro-
and perfect. I looked down at myself. The picture on the front of my jumpsuit. The pincushion was
I
I
one of the egg shapes sprinted through the
.
.
.
halls. I
I
ran into apartments,
did everything short of violence to attract their attention.
No
reaction.
rearranged their bodies. They resisted a forcibly
mrned
little,
I
woke them
I
I
tugged their cloth-
but not much.
their heads, a projection of the screen
their line of sight. If
appeared I
backed away.
burning out.
I was distantly aware on one of the egg shapes.
sanity's at stake."
shouted, "Fire! Earthquake!" Nothing.
when
ad-
in her eyes, tiny
was there, projected
ing,
them
the screen, blocking her view.
hissed. "I'm afraid
I
It
now and
advanced, physically, toward one of the
Looking toward me, not seeing me.
I
muttered.
I
of
the vaguely Oriental features.
screwing up a sacred rimal,
duced
off,"
my patience were
the screen the pincushion was advancing
stepped in between the
I
I
it,
fuses of
One
And
would
fol-
from sleep, a screen projection
instantly.
shouted
in their ears,
I
beat
dripped blood on them. They
my
chest;
I
bit
through
my
skin
and
cleaned away the blood, but they kept
on the screen. I caressed them, embraced them, wept on them-I'm ashamed to admit I even considered rape. I was that angry.
their eyes
But
I
I
wasn't that far gone.
walked out, headed for the
street.
And this time I found the monument
was in a city square, atop a three-hundredcomposed of something like milk chunk foot pyramid, one seamless five-foot-square space on top glass. I climbed a slippery stairway. At the by a of the pyramid was an ancient Zenith color TV set, protected at the very center
of the
city. It
floor. bubble of glass, plugged into an old-fashioned socket on the glassy screen the ... I on picmre The mbe faced me, and there was a single
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
i8i
John Shirley
i82 Screens
watched
and the picture on the old wooden-cased Zenith
for a while,
remained the same.
A man's
head and shoulders, a fixed image; he was
smiling coyly, his gray-haired head tilted to the right,
wink. Across his chest were
yawing
was a monument. "Must be hard
It
head, the
enormous screen image
dome showed left
in a
in the
with a sinking
turned and fled
three of the spines
down
the
stairs,
PHD.
BSP,
muttered. Over-
I
concave interior face of the
on
A zero. the pincushion vanished.
When another spine vanished,
feeling.
in a
weakness of the horizon-
to get parts,"
a pincushion approaching a o.
Zero. One, two, and
was I
letters,
BREWSTER REGINALD PHILBIN, MD,
hold, speUing out:
tal
one eye closed
skidding the
I
retreated.
I
last twenty.
It had to be fast. The others knew what was happening via the screens. Maybe via something else, too. I had to do it before they could stop me. I picked her up. The woman I'd tried to talk to, the almost Oriental
one.
I
carry her
down
of the door,
you
tried to
down
the
if
the
to block
on
her.
She wriggled
I
from
darted out
She wasn't heavy,
effort.
on my shoulder; her
silently
the projected miniature of the screen that followed
hall.
heard no one in pursuit.
I
their eyes
me. But they were too slow.
grimacing at the
hall,
run with
eyes were locked
us
shoulder in a fireman's carry and turned to
away from the room. The others—never taking
the screen—moved as
until
my
slung her over
I
took the elevator
down
to the lowest level
would take me.
it
carried her to a
I
room
I'd
found the day before.
It
contained what
I
guessed was a heating and air-conditioning mechanism, a leviathan of
metal pipes and chrome blocks and
in
some
parts of the
room, dim
humming and shooshing with The light was indirect, too sharp
glass,
the internal passage of air and power.
in others.
A chain-Hnk fence guarded the
open. People
still
made
and carried the wriggling
girl
to a dusty area
enclosed by pipes fanning out from the machine
like
the arms of a
mechanism; but the lock had been I
went through the
Hindu god. It its
I
sat
gate,
her
down on
left
mistakes.
the floor.
worked. The projected image vanished. The metal leviathan—maybe
electric field—had
blocked out the projection. The
wail of panicky disorientation.
knock her down. And
I
didn't
I
was
afraid she'd
know if I
girl
run for
made it,
and
a long, low I'd
could bring myself to do
have to
that.
But
she sat frozen, her head moving herky-jerky around, looking for guidance. I
took her face between
eyes.
my
hands and turned her to look
me
in the
"Can you see me now?" Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Screens 183
She stared—then,
like
a
wounded
dog, she turned and snapped her
my hand. Sank her teeth into the meat of my palm. Jerking my hand away, swearing, I backed off. She looked at the floor,
jaws at
wild-eyed, a
little
blood running from the corner of her pretty mouth.
apologize to both of you," Dr. Philbin said.
"I
He stepped up from behind, smiling sadly. TV image. Same suit. I couldn't see him
his
ness in this enclosure. But
on the TV.
face
I
Looking almost exactly like clearly
because of the dim-
thought he had the same expression as the
I
hadn't heard him,
I
supposed, because of the noise of
the machine.
He was I
looking right at me.
He was
talking right to
my
stomach drew
Someone was
talking to me.
sagged back against a pipe. Something in
claws, curled up,
and went
"Why'd you make
to sleep.
me go through all this before you showed up?"
overestimated you. Thought you would socialize
"I
personally ...
like to interfere
something of an experiment.
and
all
I
suppose
A bad
one.
it's
more
I
young
its
asked.
don't
easily. I
the researcher in me.
I let this
in
It
was
woman down,
the others, in making that estimation of you."
wasn't going to hurt the
"I
me.
with me.
To
"Force her
talk. Just talk. is
girl. I
wanted
She was
to force her to
the lightest to carry.
communicate ."
.
the operative phrase here. Imposing your social impera-
on our society by main force." "Look-suppose you explain this
tives
And
place to me.
then we'll talk
about morality."
He
talked for a while,
and
I
asked questions, and
I
got the
gist
of
it.
Motivation, Philbin said, was ruled by the manipulation of archetypes in the subconscious. Something psychologists
knew about
analytically
and
Madison Avenue knew instinctively. The operation of the various sublexistructures of the mind-the ego, the id, et al.-involved the use of a comprised, con of symbols. Those symbols, and the archetypes they could be simplified and abstracted, purified for external concretization, and presented to the brain's centers of initiative directly-normally we of filtering and react to symbols indirectly, through a long, slow process related to the use of selection. Before Philbin, conditioning was indirect, in experimental stereotypes: visual dramatizations of people enmeshed dramaticonditioning desires for sex, success, recognition, approval. The
zation sometimes
came through
television
ceived and translated the imagery from
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
programming. The brain
social
re-
symbology to cerebral
John Shirley
i84 Screens
symbology. Social symbols became mathematic by
way of
the brain's
ei-
detic translations.
Philbin cut out the middle
man.
He
taught computer-controlled
language of the inner mind. "A language of dozens of researchers to learn."
it
When
TV the
me forty years and the aid
took
applied with a totality of stimu-
lus—the same style of imagery imposed from birth to death—absolute rap-
port was established. "Television
TV
is
And
meant absolute
absolute rapport
mesmerizing," Philbin
even during an argument.
I
said.
knew
control.
"People will turn and look at a
that there
was something
going on there, something more than the eye being dravm to
movement—and as
he
that
talked, in the
same
staring at him. Twitching.
on,
voice, motionless.
The wound
destruction of the food chain.
method social
I
looked
my hand
in
saw a new Dark Ages coming with the
"I
We
.
.
.
When
them
at the girl.
.
.
.
Home
of the Philbin
Institute.
the emergency called for a
spent most of the
first
survival technologies,
no room
human social
I
new
was the only
the time of the collapse.
city at
my
when
system was implemented.
our
artificial
food and
air
systems. There simply
Mx. Mazursky.
for any extraneous organisms,
We
had
desires, are acted
all
.
.
.
what you have
competition,
They
which the is
my
seen.
ego games and
all
out on the screen. We've trained our people
to identify so thoroughly with the screen imagery that to them.
was
to give
beings priority ... In the second century our application of
and
We
century refining the system—and developing our
system was further refined, and evolved to
There
it
and the
was, ah, influential in the city—and order,
A
transformation,
its
life-forms,
only Kansas City survived;
No materialized conflicts. All conflicts, striving
to survive.
be part of a harmonious
the atmosphere began
completely environmentally shielded
She was
of the ecosystem, the
fall
to
and
stood there
throbbed. Philbin went
and the anaerobic organisms became the dominant acid winds stripped the Earth
just
needed an orderly society
for training people, for teaching
environment
He
could be used constructively."
it
special
light
quite satisfying
it's
direct the screen with the output of their bioelectric fields,
city's
central
individuality
computers are equipped to receive and
here— true
individuality.
They
interpret.
are aware of
other, of their litde distinctions, in a peripheral sort of way.
one
an-
They gravitate
together and apart very, very slowly, and react to one another physically as well as
on
what they
the,
screen—but of course the screen imagery
identify with, finally
.
.
."
He
smiled.
made-a-society-of-mindless-conformists look
The
city
is
"You
on your
is
uppermost.
It is
have that you-haveface,
sir.
Not
at
all:
maintained by the people, for the people, of the people, and
every day everyone casts their vote.
On
the screens.
A consensus is evolved
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley and
Screens 185
steps are taken. That's
voted
why we added
roof-sunning
was
last year. It
in."
"Come
on. You're telling
me
they have free will?
You
don't use this
system to control them?"
"They
are influenced to accept certain fundamentals.
And
pects the same.
they're
happy with
Any
society ex-
it—these people don't have to
Or dying. Their conwe clone them; their new brain, when the
suffer the hassles of reproducing, raising children.
do not
sciousnesses
minds
die.
are cybernetically
When
they begin to age,
downloaded
into the
clone has matured." "Rebirth in
"Don't
They
tell
are.
sterility.
me
But they're—"
and passions of
life.
their feelings eidetically.
On
They
are
they're not experiencing the joys
But they're trained to experience
the screen. Ever seen two professional chess players go at
it?
motionless, concentrating—but don't imagine they aren't boiling with ."
excitement inside.
.
new sunroof isn't progress. You could be
Deciding on a
"It's still stasis.
cloning plants, animals—there must be samples somewhere,
deep "It
freeze, or.
would be hopeless. The
based on
new
it.
planet, has
It
it,'
an ecology,
The new
sir.
Anyway, why bother?
If
we
re-
succeeded, we'd generate disturbing
you yourself have.
broken, don't
'If it ain't
Mr. Mazursky."
"I see.
The
urban-village paradise
Philbin-we were
all
is
achieved, so don't disturb
on our way somewhere.
We
blew
it,
the train. But there was someplace we were intended to stopping the last people who have the chance. And this just isn't intense
"You sound ers,
one,
has overtaken the planet. Hopeless to try and
social interference patterns-as fix
in
systems of chemical interaction with organic molecules.
Anaerobic systems. verse
maybe
." .
enough
like
to really satisfy anyone, Philbin
those quaint fellows from
my
it.
Look,
and derailed
get to. You're
kind of
living
." .
.
childhood. Punk rock-
they were called."
"Punks?"
But then
I
I
scowled. Nasty thought.
shrugged.
"Maybe
it's
was a scholar of namralist
I
sort of punk.
Maybe
a
little
poetry.
punk
is
necessary from time to time." "You're a
fascist,
Mazursky."
He
had dropped the
to supplant our tribalism with your
He was
right. It
"I'm going to
"And
was
relative.
fight you."
Really, Really,
But
go with what used
Weird Stories
own. And .
.
"Mister."
"You want
to you, I'm a fascist."
.
to be called poetic intuition,"
I
said.
John Shirley
i86 Screens
I
decided
need him
him with
take
I'd
as a hostage.
With the
us.
stepped
I
in,
and
girl
and me. By
sliced
force.
an uppercut
I
might
at the point
of his jaw.
My fist sailed
through
He was a hologram.
The image shimmied.
his head.
"You don't think
I'd risk
myself here, do you, Mr.
Mazursky?"
"An image. guess close
.
A TV image." I shook my head, feeling heavy and stupid.
wanted
I
.
.
to believe
Christ,
you were there so badly
I
you probably don't even look like that anymore. Cloned
a few times yourself ..." contact.
I trembled with frustration. I'd wanted him react as I hit him. time for you to make a decision, Mr. Mazursky. You can
Wanted
"Now it's
that
to see
Or you can go
yourself over to retraining.
people out there
.
.
.
sort of ...
I
And
out there.
"I'm going back to the escape pod. There's
glass
"I
didn't really look very
some
give
die."
air left.
There are
caught a glimpse yesterday, through the
." .
.
"They're not people as you
know them, Mr.
We
Mazursky.
haven't
seen them up close. But we're quite sure they're subhuman. They're not
oxygen breathers, "If
I
give in,
"Eventually.
I'll
.
be seeing projections everywhere
mind
This way
we
edits
go."
girl
me—
distorts things.
You
perceptions.
I
see nothing social
world
prefer the living world to
made up my mind: I'm going. And I with me. You send some of your athletic couch
your social world, Philbin. to take the
and
you the symbols of the
give
more directly." "And I lose the bulk of my want
I
But everything you see has always been a projection— on
the visual cortex. Your really directly.
."
certainly.
I
have
kick in a few heads before they get me.
It'll
be a
"Very well. She's already traumatized beyond recovery. Take her.
Her
potatoes to stop
bad
I'll
trade."
designation
And he
is
Curl.
Go
Something tore loose
like this
in."
blinked out.
Philbin! I'm
was
back out the way you came
me, and
in
it
began to howl. "Come back here,
not through with you! Listen, asshole— it was things
place that put the
television;
it
goddamn
planet into a doze
till it
fell
like
.
apart!
was malls— it was the brain death of your urban
.
.
It
villages,
turning people inward, into videogames and away from the outer
world—that's how it got poisoned and died and no one knew! It was like we were watching TV while the baby was poisoning itself in the kitchen!
We
got lost in our idiotic
little
distractions,
and we projected
Really, Really,
all
our
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Screens 187
problems onto real! It
was
television dramatizations
little
And when we
realized
was
real,
television that killed the world,
.
.
Philbin didn't
had
come
.
and nothing seemed
was too goddamn
it
my voice
first.
But
there,
screen projection followed us.
and
in
was the tape-log
it
And
few minutes she stopped
after a
teeth
and whimpering. She
sank into a sort of ambulatory catatonia. Philbin didn't
was
in the
lost.
back.
yammering wordlessly, stopped gnashing her
No
echoed
room, and was swallowed up, and
to drag Curl along at
her.
late, Philbin!
you smug bastardr
had shouted myself hoarse. Fugued, drained,
I
dull industrial spaces of the
I
it
We
I've
reached
try to reclaim
lock 56.
air
been using to make
There was also a rather antique pressure
My
suit
this record.
Curl— and a crude sled
suit for
with a big mbular device that synthesized oxygen from carbon dioxide
and carbon monoxide.
And
seemed, and what
its
own
air.
survived awhile.
He was
suit.
was
last entry.
escape pod. Oh,
mechanism working was thinking
last
in
in
getting her into the extra pres-
She came out of the catatonia, and
this in the
it
still
more bored than he would admit. pod was hard, because I got no help from Curl
Three days since the
I
used for
crossing to the
pulling the sled. But the hardest part
sure
if I
city
was curious about me,
Philbin
might do out there
I
a scientist— perhaps
The
A miniamre of what the
was a supply of "Food."
there
bit
me
again.
Things have happened. I'm not recording
it
was workable enough.
I
got the oxymix
it.
night that
maybe-almost
certainly-it
was wrong
to
drag Curl out here. She'd probably die out here with me. Die young. Like Freda. Who was I to say that death was better for Curl than life in the
dome?
But
me
it
was hard
to think about taking Curl back.
in the eye, seemed to try to understand me.
her to take
some food on
the second day.
And
Sometimes she looked
And
I
managed
she bit
me
to get
only once
yesterday.
She can
talk,
when
Remembering speech from an earlier This morning she said some things. Starting
she wants
clone-sequence, probably.
to.
with: "Are they alive?"
She was looking out the window.
I
stared at
her-and then looked out
window and saw them. At first the way they looked made me sick. The stuff was crawling over them with a life of its own. I assumed it
the
was
their skin. Slick, gray-purple oily gunk.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Bubbles for their eyes.
John Shirley
i88 Screens
I
just stared,
and waited,
them. They took
They were humans, under the Living
maybe. Bred for
suits,
ducing oxygen for the host
"When you the two men
came
as they
off their heads. Peeled
first
got here,
through the hatch.
Creatures that
who wears them we tried to catch up .
you moved too
Two
of
off.
oily stuff. Protective suits
this.
warn you away from
said, "to
assholes in there. But
in
them
.
live
of
some
kind.
anaerobically, pro-
.
with you," the
taller
of
that
dome. They're complete
fast for us.
We can't move very well
in these scavenger suits."
"You coming back
mossy teeth and
to the
greasy,
farm with us?" the shorter one
matted
hair,
Kansas City dome, we're pretty sure we're dred square miles terraformed, but .
.
.
You coming with
cob. Fresh!"
"Are
we
He
us?
grinned
You
it's
hurry,
said.
and he was grimy. "Except all
there
comin'.
is.
Long
He
had
for the
We only got a hun-
as
our bubble holds
you can make dinner. Corn on the
at us.
going to go with them?" Curl asked me. She was sweating
with the effort
at this
kind of communication. Squinting as
if
she had a
headache. But sane. "Yeah,"
I
said.
She raised
I
took her hand.
my hand
to her lips.
"I
think
we
She didn't
will."
bite
me.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue Some and
people go to bed with Lucifer
they cry, cry, cry
when
they don't greet the day with
God
—Monster Magnet
Marissa didn't see
why
she should get a
sitter
when Donny was
he'd watched Brittany before, one time before, and
was
there,
right before
nap anyway.
Brittany's
Henny something like that when they went down into basement. Doc's "rec room to my neighbors, dungeon to you," and
She was the Jill
it
telling
was smiling triumphantly
you they'd come," Jill taped cigar box of their early forties
Marissa and
"Gosh
it's
his. Jill,
them from the
at
Doc,
said, to
as
he came
built-in bar. "I told
with that old, masking-
Doc and Marissa's husband Henny were
Marissa was "the baby,"
Henny
little
in
all
in
at 35.
joined Jill at the bar, side by side.
down here," Marissa said.
so nice and cool
90 outside already and
it'll
get hotter. August in L.A.
"It
must be 85 or
The smog makes
it
worse, too." "You're not going to diss the valley again, are you Marissa honey?"
"No,
it's
that
way
all
over L.A."
"You need a new stash box
box
Jill
her fingers jabbing the blender buttons.
said,
as
Doc
laid
it
down on
there.
the
Doc,"
little
bar.
Henny said, his eyes on the Henny probably wondering
He
was a bigger dope pig than Marissa was; she was just as happy with cocktails, but she'd try anything-which is what she'd seriously, very seriously, told her sister she wanted on her grave-
what
it'd
stone.
be
this time.
Shed Try Anything and
That's what'U
kill
you, too, so
her
it
sister Lizzy
had
said
something
like.
oughta be on there fuh Chris'sakes, and
Marissa had said she didn't need those negative impressions.
When he'd
taken Marissa's monthly psychic impressions, her psychic, Damtha, had said,
"You're definitely getting too
somewhere,
there's a lot for
me
many
negative resonations
to remove, here."
from
And, you know, they
might've been from Lizzy, she could be so negative. So judgmental.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
190 Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue
There were
two couples
just the
John Shirley
that afternoon, their kids playing in
the back yard as they got into the party. After Brittany got tired playing
with Donny,
Henny could
take her upstairs for a nap. She'd
Thank God
lunch, she'd be sleepy soon.
needed an afternoon Jill
her
wore a puce tank didn't have the
tits
lift
Spandex leggings fire
they used
Her luminous-orange
his face, so
"Where 'd you get
it is
new.
It's
in
it,
though
too wide, no
was teased
called
like
a
too big for his body,
to Marissa, but he
him when
was
they'd
still
first
blue jeans and san-
t-shirt.
shirt,
in the garage in a
it
still
hair
little
He wore
Led Zep
that antique
Marissa asked. "You find "No,
seemed
at Harry's "Social Club."
and a Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
dals
it
looks almost new,"
box?"
not Led Zep. Page and Plant are doing a solo tour now."
know that." She took a cocktail from Jill. It was one of overly-sweet cherry-tasting things with vodka that Doc liked. She
"Really.^
those
I
didn't
decided not to complain about
Henny was wearing Gap paunch. into a
and
it
what she'd
"a good-lookin' galoot"— that's
met him and Jill
good
hips were
around her head. Doc's head was a
mustache too small for
still
"saddle baggy", and the zebra-patterned
little
didn't help.
Her
to.
half the kid
island of sanity.
little
top; she starved so she'd look
matter what she did, a
windy
and a
at four
was a mother's
lap. It
had her
He had a hatchet face,
little
legs
flat
matching
shirt,
untucked to hide
his
blue eyes, thinning blond hair tied back
pony tail, and a soul patch. Marissa was the chunky one; her arms
were a
short but she had those heavy breasts that
little
that he stared at
dropped
it.
khakis, a
now. She wore a gold
off straight
below the nipples
satin
Doc
liked;
top that clung to them and
to hide her
own
sloppy middle.
"So where's the Mondersons?" Marissa asked, thinking of that big
ropy thing Judge Monderson had
"Not coming," Jill convention
in
in his pants.
said. "They're, like,
Las Vegas.
I
'swung out' for awhile
guess Judge did a
little
too
after the
X or some-
much
thing and freaked out the next morning."
"A
little is
good, a
lot
is
toxic,"
Doc
said, sitting at the bar.
Henny said. Henny was still lookmaybe hoping it was cocaine. Marissa hoped it wasn't cocaine; that made Henny impotent fast, it was "A
lot
of what, that's the question,"
ing expectantly at the cigar box,
embarrassing. You're going to swing, you're supposed to
do your
part.
"Marissa—where's the—" Henny 'd started to say "Where's the kid?" but he remembered not wasn't his kid,
it
tany like she was
was
to.
She got
Luis' kid, but
some
mad when
still
stranger's child.
he said
he didn't need to
"—Where's our
it
litde
Really, Really,
like that. It
talk
about
Brit-
one?" He'd
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue 191
bathroom, maybe checking out Doc's medicine cabinet,
been
in the
when
she'd put Brittany out back.
"Playing out back. Donny's watching her."
"So-how about some music? I like my action with a beat," Henny said. made Marissa think of the ad at that Internet personals club site. How they'd met Doc and Jill. This
LOOKING FOR MR N' AIRS RIGHT! Tired of no-swap swingers? We're believers in action too, and
our action with the big rock beat, wherever light
B&D,
four-ways, six-ways
it'll
we like
take us. Role playing,
and everyone gets some.
If you're
into
it,
so
we try anything? Maybe not—but definitely, make the su^esDoc and Jill, seeking couples between 30 and 45. N/S. Must ex-
are we. Will tion!
change photos, email, before meeting. Mailbox 455895
Jill
bed beyond the rec-room was painted the
black,
bar. In
and dusted with
glitter to
be
like starry space.
Above
big futon, really—was an old black-light poster of people
bed— a
Kama
fucking in an exotic
from
boombox Doc kept by the blue-silk that half of the room the concrete floor
switched on the six-CD-cycle
their joined genitals.
Sutra position, with op-art lines radiating
On
the walls to either side were posters; one
side was Mel Gibson, without his shirt on— that was for Jill— and the other side was Doc's life-size Xena Warrior Princess poster. "I'd love to get that Lucy Lawless in the sack," Doc had said, more than once, gazing
goatishly at Xena.
Yeah, Marissa always thought,
with you
if
like that
could happen. Like she'd sleep
you had a gold plated introduction, a
Perignon and a Plaza
suite.
Dream
bottle of
Dom
on.
Under Xena were two metal rings in the wall that Doc tied the girls to, when the mood was on them, and sometimes himself. There was a ring in the ceiling, too.
The
first
sounded
CD on
like
new Plant/Page album, which made another pitcher of cocktails.
the cycler was Doc's
Led Zep
to Marissa.
Jill
Doc bobbed his head in time to the music as he rolled joints. Henny frowned at the makings Doc was working with. "I dunno, maybe I
should stick with cocktails, pot makes
me
paranoid, sometimes, man."
make him paranoid?" top. Henny watched her small, Jill was dancing, pulling off her mbe him paranoid," she said. "Gomake to going pointed breasts jump. "Not
Doc
grinned. "Jill-this pot going to
ing to get
him high
Really, Really,
as a motherfucker."
Weird Stories
Oh: She's
192 Brittany?
"Those kids going
door
Translucent Blue
in
be okay?" Marissa
to
top of the
at the
said,
glancing at the back
Asking because she feh
stairs.
though she didn't want to think about
"Check on 'em, you want. They're pot
John Shirley
like
she should,
we got a sitter." Henny said. "What kind
"Usually
it.
fine,"
of
is it.^"
Doc
pot plus/'
"It's
said.
owed and
to Marissa
was about
to get loaded.
His eyes were always a
seemed
it
little
too deeply-shad-
when he
the shadows got deeper
like
"Pot plus what?" "Special formula, dude."
Donny was
tightening the strap
"Ow," she It
looked
palm
the
like
on
Brittany, blinking in the bright sunlight.
"That hurt some." She shaded her eyes to see
said.
tree
his face.
behind him was growing out of the top of
his head.
"Oh
shit
it
does."
"Don't say didn't care
if
shit,"
"Shit,
He
why,
Dad Henny
They were alone out huh shit?"
sign of the adults.
Mama
Brittany said, glancing toward the house.
they said shit but
didn't like
There was no
it.
here.
not, shit,
shit,
gave out a long peeling sort of laugh. Brittany watched his belly
button jump
when he
on the
the strap
laughed. "Boinkaboinka," she said.
plastic
carapace a
He
tightened
more. "Not that much,
little
that's
hurt."
He
stood back and looked at his handiwork—he'd simply strapped her
into the laser-target vest, but
wouldn't
fall off,
"Okay,"
said,
"you run around and hide, and
buzz and
He
light
up and
I
"Gross.
"Oh
I
shit,
and
it
you
The
I
it
squinting at the
dimpled the water,
if I
in the
shoot
it,
lazer-laser pistol
little
panel
up with a blue
lit
from point blank flash, faint in the
unpleasant buzz feeling against her stomach.
want
We
to play that.
bet. Spice Girls.
sucked toward a
so
chase you and
touched the panel
No
arfin'
could play Spice
swimming
pool.
uselessly paddling
Girls."
way, okay?"
She stood with one bare foot on the other, and shifted tic vest,
it
win."
made an
don't think
I
a bicycle reflector. "And
like
stood back and pointed the
range and pulled the tri^er. bright sunlight,
He
target, that thing here."
middle of her chest that looked it'll
to get
she was so small.
Donny
shoot that
try to
had taken some doing
it
A
in the stiff plas-
bug with shiny green wings
its legs.
As she watched,
it
was
filter.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley "You going
Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue 193 to play or not?"
There was a wriggling chain of light
went
into the filter
"Brittany.'^
Her
.
.
in the blue
the light shook
.
You going
itself
.
.
pool water ... the bug
.
to play?"
foot was hurting
on the hot
concrete. She turned
twice, to get into the shade of the house.
"How come
and hopped,
there isn't grass?"
"What?" She pointed. The ground
all the way around the house was green conThe green paint on the concrete was faded, worn away in places. There were a lot of abalone shells, some of them broken now, some pieces of lava glass, some shiny round rocks, a couple
crete with stuff stuck in
it.
of half-broken statues of
men
little
with beards and pointed hats and
wrinkled up faces, the broken base of a bird feeder and, embedded face
up
in the concrete: a silvery Frisbee
with a
lot
magic marker and the numbers i p 8 ^.It was the
house—concrete with
each
little
Mom.
"I
in
an arms' length between
See her reflection in
and put
said
it
your feet on those
reason,
was an
in this concrete
stuff. It
some
mean, she doesn't
work on weeds so she tween the
it.
she did that." For
"It's Jill,
grass
it,
it
way around
the
pushed-in thing. There was a blue crystal doorknob in one
spot; she liked to look at
instead of
things trapped in
of names signed on
like that all
was before shells,
like
Donny
and
blue.
called his
Mom
and they took out
this stuff in
was born. Watch
I
tiny
weeds but she doesn't
art project
and put
it,
it
all
and painted
out, too,
Jill
like to
it
the be-
you can cut
they got broke."
"Okay."
"You going
to play?
She squinted
head
now
at
It
took a long time to put that target on you."
him. There were two palm trees growing out of his
because she and
"You're pissing
me
Donny were
standing in a different spot.
off now," he said. She couldn't see his eyes, hardly,
because of the way the sun was.
She didn't want to admit she didn't know what that meant so she said,
"Okay.
I'll
hide."
Doc bought and about
cars,
restored and sold classic cars.
something about blown hemis.
about fucking football and here of them,"
Jill
just
we
The men were
"Shit next they'll
are with our
tits
talking
be talking
hanging out in front
said.
"I
know, they take us for granted."
"I
take you for very, very
take you for," said Doc,
Really, Really,
good heart-hreakin good pussy,
that's
what
who sometimes talked that way. He used to
Weird Stories
I
read
194 Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue
Hunter Thompson and
had something
it
John Shirley do with
to
that. Pretty
soon
he'd start with the comedy. Jill
looked
at
kiss. "/
Marissa narrowly and blew her a
take you
seri-
ously honey."
Marissa
made
a kissy at her.
"Me
too, you."
when
But she was always uncomfortable
and playing with her But you had to be
"You
still
"No,
I
pussy.
was sucking on her
Jill
had way more dyke
in her
tits
than she did.
and not get hung up.
flexible,
working out
Jill
at the airport?"
fucking quit," Marissa said.
"It
Jill
asked.
was making
me
crazy,
those an-
nouncements. Selling magazines and candy and listening to those an-
nouncements
"God
I
all
guess.
Blahbuhdahbuhdah
day.
Henny
still
selling software?"
"Yeah, he just sold a whole line to ...
Doc was
I
some big company
don't know,
up the doobies. The
just firing
day."
all
One
specials.
." .
.
for each couple.
The music was—what was that, the guy with the high pitched voice and as soon as they made up their mind what the song was going to be it changed like
they thought that was real heavy.
"What band
is
Doc?" Marissa asked, taking the
that.
joint
from
Henny. "Rush,
that's fuckin'
Rush, are you kidding?"
"Mahogany Rush?" "No,
that's
shit,
ruuuuush, ohrkay.''
is
Rush, rush rush rush-rush
slipped into
some Saturday Night Live
another band,
Doc had
this
though she wasn't sure which one.
character,
a stand up comic. Next would
She drew on the
"God, what
is
come
fantasized about being
a lame joke.
and coughed.
joint
He
It
was
sour, chemical tasting.
that?"
"Okay so God called Bill Gates, Boris Yeltsin and Clinton together—" Doc was saying. "'Here's the deal, boys,' God said um ..." .
"Did you sign that
letter
"And
'The world
is
folks
.'" .
.
'I
He was trying to do
accent over that part of the joke, she could
tell
couldn't hear the accent because of the music. real after
all,
bad news
is
that the world's
goes to the Russian people and uh louder,
on
its
own. She could
hit.
going to end in twenty-four hours' and so
Clinton went to the American people and said
some bad news,
.
from the Swinger's Coalition to Clinton?" Jill
whispered. Marissa nodded and took another said,
.
feel
." .
.
got
some good news and
an Arkansas good ole boy
by
his expression, but she
'". .
gonna
.
good news
end.'
The music was
the weight of
it
So then
is
God
Yeltsin
is
he
getting louder
and
She could
feel
in the air.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley the music
Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue 195
on her
there at the bar,
wet the
tip
She watched as Jill unzipped Henny's pants,
skin.
and took
thumb and
of his
and
his dick out,
started playing with
started rotating
it
on one of her
it,
right
and he
nipples;
he
had an exaggerated idea of how much she liked that. "And Bill Gates said, 'The good news is the YzK thing is not gonna be .'" a problem but Without anyone touching the boombox the music .
.
rose to such volume that she couldn't hear the punchline but
pain in the butt
when Doc
it
was a
him for the right moment and laughed on cue and he bent over, laughing, pushed his head between her breasts, butted them around. "You think it's funny too, boys?"
He
"Tes we talking
sulked so she watched
asked her breasts and he bounced them to make them nod.
do!'"
He
did
it
in a high pitched voice,
back to him, making Henny bark with
mimicking her breasts laughter.
The
laughter
broke off abruptly as Jill bent and took Henny into her mouth. She was bent over from the waist, legs
straight,
ing herself up with her hands
on the
Doc would come arouad and pull
her butt jutting out behind, holdsides of his stool,
her tights
down and
maybe hoping
slip into
her from
behind, because that's what she liked best from the guys, one in her
from
either end,
and one of the things Marissa
someone suck her husband, which her sister didn't
sister
liked best
thought was weird. But her
understand swingers, said they were sex addicts, and
all
know and now
knew was that it feeling was—ripples of that feeling going through her, could see the feeling, when she looked down at herself—never before
Marissa
got her
off,
the ripples of—she didn't
what the she
was watching
could she actually see
it
but
now
she saw
her body, shining gold-green rings
.
.
it
in rings
moving up through
.
Somehow she was standing, though she didn't remember getting up, and Doc had his head under her blouse and Henny was shouting over That's what the good Lord made the music about hell let's get in bed .
beds for
The
.
.
.
.
.
concrete hurt Brittany's
feet,
where
it
was rough, and she'd broken a
toenail on the lavaglass, but right then she was having fun staying away
from Donny. One of
his feet
was smaller than the other so one of
shoes had extra rubber on the bottom and he didn't wasn't hard for her to stay
away from
move very well
his
so
it
his laser shooter-thing. "You're
from the back, when she went into the front yard and ducked under the bird of paradise plant. She could smell corn and beef cooking from the Mexican house across the street and a Mexican boy was watching her, sitting on his bike and watching her; he was a little cheating," he yelled,
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
196 Brittany?
Oh:
She's in
older than her, he might be in
first
grade, or almost, and he was watch-
but he didn't have a look on his face
ing, play.
John Shirley
Translucent Blue
like
he wanted to be asked to
She wanted to ask him, to have someone
Donny's eyes were
like that
else there,
because
cartoon she'd seen, where the cartoon had
holes instead of eyes-
She heard the uneven slapping of Donny's tennis shoes coming along the side of the house and she got out from under the bird of paradise
and dodged between the
little
islands of things in the concrete front
yard,
around the other side of the house and away from him. This was
easy,
she could just keep the house between her and him.
"You're cheating!" he yelled, which
what he
is
when he
yelled
wasn't
winning, "you are supposed to stay in the back shitbutt!"
Another time but
time
this
Henny
it it
would have bothered Marissa when Henny threw up, seem to bother anyone, it made them all laugh,
didn't
too, as he
threw up into the
little
aluminum
He gargled with vodka as another CD came on,
it
sink behind the bar.
was the
Moody Blues,
Knights in White Satin, and Marissa, lying on her back, could see the Knights in White Satin riding horses across the ceiling as against her, his half-erect dick just
he worked
at
it,
and
making
holding the joint between Marissa's
tits
getting a
lips,
and then
with her naked ass
tits,
sat
on her
to her that Marissa sort of liked,
just
slender
Marissa,
pussy,
like tits
now
on them—
now.
Man
like that
said, "It
she
that dope?" she asked, absently. Skin felt rubbery, plasticky,
distant to her
looked
which
when
making Marissa's nipples wet with her
themselves, nipples growing
The
tits,
rubbing her butt
and groaning, and Marissa could see Jill's buttocks looking
"What was
slapped
harder as
like that, straddling
her weight on her legs instead of on Marissa, and against Marissa's big
Doc
little
gave her another hit of the sour tasting dope,
Jill
was one of the things Jill did kind of rode her big
it in,
in
White
boy she'd
was PCP, angel
sitting
liked
next to her—was he the Knight?
when
she was in high school,
dust, dear lady."
He
Lenny—he
Or maybe Doc said that because
Henny came back to the bed, asking about it. "Oh Christ, dust joints," Henny was saying, "Jeez, Doc." But of course he took another hit. Anytime: Whatever it was Henny took always another hit. She suddenly remembered the time Henny had taken speed. The one and only time; she'd never let him do it after that, or not that she knew about. He'd gone down on a black girl that Jill had brought over and the girl was on some other drug, 'ludes maybe, and was watching TV at the Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
the
Rodman on some woman was
Dennis
time,
Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue 197 talk
same time the
show, and laughing at him, but
playing with her
clit
about the TV, and more than an hour passed that way
Henny's knees were bloody
that
crete floor
.
.
.
.
Marissa saw
until
bloody from grinding on the con-
.
Marissa looked for the
was
.
at
while she talked
Man
in
there, pointing at the wall.
White
sitting
next to the bed, and he
There was a buzzing
in her head, like a
smoke alarm inside her, so loud she couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was pointing at her and Judy Chula, who was Luis' little sister, and they were in high school, way back in high school, senior prom night, they were walking to the prom because they didn't have dates, but they decided to go anyway because there would be guys without dates there too, supposedly,
and they could dance, and you never knew, and then a
Trans
Am
really
know, but she thought one of them was named Charles some-
thing,
and the other one was
pulled up beside them. In the car were two guys she didn't
both of them blond,
either Rafe or Rufus,
cousins, big good-looking guys, major in football at school, but not in
her scene, and they asked
Judy looked
if
they wanted a ride to the prom. She and
each other and got in that car fast The guys were wearing
at
football jackets
and
jeans, though; they weren't dressed for the
you're going to the prom, you're dressed kind of weird for
which made
Marissa cringe,
inside her, she felt
was
trickle a little
it
afraid the trickle
and
periods, sure,
and the cringing made her
that, if
it
would get
when she squeezed
happened, would be the
"Do you remember what
.
"If
said,
tampon
her thighs, and she really full
ultimate humiliation for
.
.
they said?" the
Judy
her
been having these
out, she'd
but the guys were saying something
it,"
feel
prom.
man
with the shining white
face and the long, long hair asked her, as she turned her head to look at Jill's
churning buttocks and
Henny "Yes
the same
at .
but did
.
.
Doc ground
at her pussy.
Jill
was sucking
time.
they said they were going to change pretty soon for the prom,
we want
"Who's she
to
smoke
talkin' to?"
a joint with
Doc
them
first.
asked, laughing.
We
"Whoa,
said okay." she's high.
Come
"
on,
girl
She
...
felt Jill
climb off her, a sudden coolness, then
the wrist, agreeing with
Doc
Henny taking her by
about something she couldn't hear because
smoke alarm sound was up again, and they were leading her ceiling hook, making her wobble through a gelatinous air
the
.
They
.
to the
.
chained her with mink-lined leather cuffs to the chain that ran
from the
ceiling.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
198 Brittany?
Oh: She's
in
Translucent Blue
John Shirley
I'm a Christmas tree ornament, she thought. This was one of her favorite things,
when people
her, while
sucked on her
Jill
"That's love,"
Jill
it,
learn
was
The sound
in her
head rose and
what you're here
saying.
"Now you're
for, to
make
She was looking over
Jill's
lengthen the
fell.
us feel good,
Doc
rest.
She couldn't
while beside him,
image of Mel Gibson. Mel was
and succeeded though she
squirm away, and she was saying, no, no, job,
up with the
now wearing a high down and give him
mouth onto him by pushing the back of her head; on the grass of the park the other, shorter jock was
trying to force Marissa's legs apart,
you a blow
feel
shoulder at the pictures on the walls—no,
school football jacket, and was making Judy kneel head, forcing her
bitchy
screwing her from behind.
the pictures were in the walls, like holograms, and mixed poster: part of the
little
"
going to ...
rose again and she couldn't hear the
her wrists. She could barely feel
Spanking
him hard again—
chain so she could kneel and get
The smoke alarm sound
that.
Doc would
After awhile
tits.
They
did this to her.
were completely paying attention to her when they did
I'll
give
you a blow
tried to
job,
but he wanted to be able to say he'd gone
all
in Judy's
way
the
with someone, and he forced her legs open and the blood gushed
At the same moment the jock standing gushed
give
I'll
.
.
.
mouth, making
her choke and whimper angrily and she pulled herself away and spat-
Then
they saw the lights of the cop car coming
down
the road into
the parking lot of the park, and they ran, zipping up and pulling up their
pants respectively, sprinting through the brush of the park toward the
Am, and both Judy and Marissa were crying, their prom dresses ruined with cum and grass stains and blood and the two cops came and stood over them and one of them made an involuntary disgust-sound when he saw the blood running down her thigh and the bloody tampon with its little string that had come out when she was struggling away from the shorter jock— Marissa was weeping so Jill said, "Oh gawd. Well, hell, let her down." And they undid the cuffs and she sank down and saw their disappointed faces and said, "I'm sorry. Let's do something. What do you street
where they'd
want
to do?"
"I
don't want to
the fence.
Her
do
foot
left
the Trans
that," Brittany
was
saying, as
Donny pushed
was bleeding now from the broken
her against
shell she'd
stepped
on. That's the only reason he'd caught her. "Just for a
few minutes more," he
said, "I didn't
get the target but
Really, Really,
one
time."
Weird Stories
John Shirley don't care,
"I
I'm
Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue 199
tired,
I
my
head
don't care,
I
hurts,
I
want
don't like
to lay
want
it, I
my
down,
to lay
foot's bleeding,
down."
Mom.
She was hungry too. She wanted to see her
"Go—run!" "I
don't want to play that anymore."
"You'd better."
"Okay— I'll want her
run." But she ran through the fence gate,
to go, leaving
bird of paradise plant
little
and wriggled out of the
her as she struggled with
and she'd thing.
thrown
just
it
it.
It
aside
was hard
side,
didn't
limping a
plastic vest. It scratched
to get off. Finally she got
when he found
She couldn't make out what he was
She ran around the
where he
red blotches on the walk, and hid under the
her,
and he
yelled
it
off
some-
yelling.
little
now, and through the other
fence gate, and into the back yard, looking for the door into the house
where her
Mom had gone.
"Mom?" she yelled. "Mom!" Donny came into the back yard,
mouth
his
all
looking, his eyes like the hole-eye cartoon guy's.
flattened out, pinched
He got between her and
the back door.
He
pushed her toward the pool.
Marissa thought she heard her daughter It
was hard
and the pillow,
to
tell,
buzzing sound.
silk sheets,
least dizzy, blurry, before they
And him
let
It
face down in the blue Doc and Henny holding
was
far
her up.
the erotic
with
it.
"Crystal Blue Persuasion."
then she saw
Henny
two, another
its
back, running into a long wolflike
her
But she liked to get
tail;
at
playing an
Henny stepping
looking like an inaccurate copy, with a long strip of bristly
down
silk
smothering she
The boombox was
CD, the song
split in
far away.
was making,
was
Jill
with both
down, her hands cuffed behind her. liked-they were careful not to go too oldies
from somewhere
with the music, and the noises that Jill
rising, falling
on the blue
calling,
out of
brown
fur
with eyes like holes
thumbed into the putty of its almost-Henny head. It rose humming, buzzing and growling, to turn, to swim through the air itself, the shining blue air, moving in slow motion up the stairs and out the door and out Henny's to backyard, to the pool-the pushing motions of the original her, into himself drove and down, shoulders and hips as he pushed Jill
movements of the thing that rose from him, the brisde-tailed thing with holes for eyes and a slit for a mouth, that went out the basement door without touching the floor. seemed
to translate into the
Really, Really,
Weird
Stories
200 Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue
Two of her husband,
one down
one up
here,
the same, the second created from the
"Mama air
first,
moving
into the
back yard—
.
was a whisper
it
right into her ear.
whispering.
down into
Marissa rose from watching Jill being pressed drowniing in door. She
wrong
same and yet not
there, the
." .
But the voice wasn't a distant shout,
The
John Shirley
and found
silk,
herself drifting
up the
opened the back door—it was hard
the sheets, Jill
stairs, to
the back
to turn the knob,
it felt
in her fingers, but she got the door opened.
Marissa looked out the back door into the blazing afternoon. The sky
was so blue
.
The water
.
.
pool so blue
in the
One somehow
.
.
.
bled into the other, the sky part of the pool, the pool
part of the sky, melted together by the sunlight
.
.
.
She remembered Lenny Baer, the big love of her teenage she'd only
gone out with him four
He'd
times.
years,
though
He
recited poetry to her.
wrote for the high school paper, and sometimes he wrote poetry for tra credit in English.
to his waist almost,
and
soft gray eyes
He'd made her understand
things.
ex-
A skinny, big-nosed kid with long brov^ni hair, down and an easy
that
He'd taught her
smile.
poem by Robert Frost about first B in English, writing
choosing the two roads, and she'd gotten her
about
First
it.
Man,
time over a C.
she'd loved him.
He'd written a poem about how he'd seen one of "in the translucent crystal of a
his
dreams caught
raw piece of quartz" he found on the
beach, and he'd had to explain to her what translucent meant, and she
never forgot
it.
But he'd stopped seeing her because
was a skank. Judy, ing her
when
she'd found out.
kinds of guys. His
his best friend
had told him she had enjoyed
jealous of her going out with Lenny,
Dad
heard
"He heard you were
it
too,
I
guess, said
Dad
not calling you and Skank.
Slut.
teaches polyscience. So he just
like
all
the pool.
How beautiful:
demon
.
that's
why he's
Brittany, her baby,
The song still playing. swimming through the sky,
with the bristling
tail
of the
in translucent blue, part
one great piece of translucent
blue persuasion. free, flying,
.
you
in a piece of quartz. Translucent quartz
arms outspread, face-down
of the water,
.
whom
stuff."
Dreams caught
Like the sky; ing,
all
he was disappointed or
something. Said 'I'm disappointed in you but go out with choose, son.' His
tell-
a skank. Fucking
.
fly-
sky, part
crystal beauty. Crystal
How beautiful, it
was
.
was a miracle
her .
.
.
little girl
so
The Henny
and thumb-hole eyes— he was crawling Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Brittany? Oh: She's in Translucent Blue 201
around the edges of the translucent couldn't get into
it,
away from him
flying there to get
She heard Jill shouting angrily ing in her head, each Jill
thump an
.
at
.
to
the basement
"Shhh ...
.
.
.
had gone
Brittany
and with
individual sharply defined ache,
were sharper, harder, and she
went down the
stairs,
back into
.
...
Jill
my head
"You fuck he almost "You're
.
.
please be quiet, so she
tell Jill
.
Doc, and there was suddenly a bang-
yelling like that downstairs the aches
needed
he
blue, yelling something, but
she was safe from him there
all right,
..."
me
killed
...
"
what'd you think, you
like
it
that
me
you told
far,
anyway, you were groaning up a storm—"
"You
shit
I
was
stop—You
yelling to
just get
me
The stuff you gave us "Some other stuff too, dust and something
shit
.
.
is
.
what, and of course the
.
.
the
.
makin'
be quiet
hurts too
else
he told me,
I
forget
.
my head hurts own voice saying
."
shit,
Marissa heard her
.
.
it.
"My head
." .
.
"Marissa little,
."
.
.
a fucking drink. Doc,
." .
"You don't even fucking know? Ow, "Jill
me
sick—fucking angel dust—"
Henny was
." .
.
on
squatting
the floor, his head dipping a
then jerking up, then dipping. "Where's ... the kid."
"Brittany?
Oh:
she's
.
." .
She sank onto the bed, wanting her head to
stop thunking, banging.
"Drink some of
this
honey
..."
Drinking, sucking smoke; they were arguing, the other three; she
threw up. Other sounds from the
ceiling
.
.
.
and Marissa went outside
The them to be quiet, and the policemen put a blanket on on it, though it was rough material, because she was police sirens hurt her head, too,
saw the girl
same
little girl,
on a gurney,
as
size as Brittany,
someone
blue sheet, and they asked
same
clothes
to
tell
her, they insisted
naked.
and
Then
hair,
the
she
little
pulled a sheet over her face, an institutional-
if
Marissa
knew what had happened
They
little
daughter, did she see anything.
said that the
boy said he
on her
to her
didn't
fingers like he'd
push her into the pool, but there were bruises stepped on them when she'd tried to get out and they wondered
if
any-
one had seen anything.
"Who? What "Your
down
girl?"
named Brittany, right? That's what the boy says. Just the blanket's falling off down in the back of the car
sit
litde girl's
...
sit
"Brittany?
.
.
Oh:
Really, Really,
she's in translucent blue
Weird Stories
.
.
." .
.
." .
Ticket to Heaven
Ticket to Heaven
I
never really wanted to go to Heaven. But
me. There was pressure on
morning
I
"Barry!"
met Putchek Gannick
.
said
.
me
to
go
knew someone would make To Heaven. Starting the
I
there.
.
when
I
dragged myself into
his office.
"Meet
Frank Putchek, director of Club Eden." "Hey,"
I
said,
"Howya
doin"'
I
smiled woodenly, shook Putchek's
hand mechanically.
You have
to understand that
it
was
been
3:30. I'd
in the office since
nine—this not being one of your breezy, we're-all-chums advertising agencies
where the idea men are permitted
be prima donnas—and
to
the morning thinking of ways to convince the public
I'd
spent
needs Triple
it
M
brand Hamburger Enhancer. (But of course we'd end up explaining to the world that the three jackass
Ms
should stand for
Mmm! as in Mmm
would have come up with the same
thing,
and Triple
saved a bundle on an advertising agency. But agencies the bad habits of industry
.
.
.) I
in the
a better salary and maybe residuals.
noon
hopes that she'd offer
I'd
spent the
thinking of ways to convince the public
sweetener, one only mildly carcinogenic.
constructing artful
lies
and
mine
thrive
it
first
and two dimensional, threatening
flat
3:30
some mysterious temporal voodoo
certain artificial
3:15,
to fold
I
was burnt,
everything in the office
down
into one-dee.
arrests the clock,
called
me
in to
By
and the pace of
time becomes a hunchbacked old lady with an aluminum walker.
when Gannick
a job
3:00, after a hard day of
fighting the tides of self-disgust,
was
me
part of the after-
needed a
And by
looking at the world through glazed eyes. By
that's
on
spent lunch flattering Jemmy Sorgenson,
from Maplethorpe and Sorgenson, at
like
Good! Any
M could've
And
meet Putchek.
Putchek was a middle-aged guy with a smallish head, chipmunk cheeks, and a seemingly infinite wealth of smile lines around his
Really, Really,
mouth
Weird Stories
John Shirley and
He
eyes.
goofy with
Ticket to Heaven 203 smiled a
lot,
mosdy with
He
his overbite.
was
his
mouth
slightly
open, looking
round-shouldered, wore dandruff-
tall,
flecked wire-rims. But he had a nice blue and dove-gray Pierre
designer I
and immaculate patent
suit,
didn't notice
all this
Putchek-shaped
blur.
He
my
boss,
was
Gannick,
less
spongy handshake and a sort of
his
could've been part of the furniture.
furrowed than usual,
behind
sitting
make him
special chair to
Only
at first.
Hayakawa
leather shoes.
his
desk in
less midget-ish, his
his small shoulders
shirt sleeves,
on
high forehead was a
his
little
almost relaxed, his darting
black eyes for once relatively stationary.
Gannick was happy about something. Putchek must represent a
juicy
account. I
my smile down into something faint but superficially warm, and
screwed
sat across
from Putchek where
could look out the
I
britde spires of Manhattan's petrified forest. Petrified,
window I
at the chill,
thought.
Me too.
"Coffee, Barry?" Gannick asked me.
"No, thanks
"He
doesn't need
Gannick
coffee,"
pretend-confidingly to
said,
Putchek. "Or any other stimulant. Barry Thorpe runs on adrenaline."
grinned to soften the sarcasm.
must've looked
I
He
more wooden than
I
thought.
huh.
Heh
and blinked
tried to get the joke
Putchek
two of
us.
"Oh, uh-
heh."
Gannick
said, "Barry,
Club Eden's Paradise Vacations
count-! guess you've heard rumors-"
something a unusual-"
at the
little,
He
well, unusual,
hadn't heard a
I
ac-
word-"and
it's
our
Barry, are a
and since you,
paused for everyone to chuckle, so
ought to head
new
is
we
did. "I
little,
well,
thought you
this up."
He beamed,
and
I
tried to
my
ing the muscles of
manage
couldn't quite
face
look pleased.
were
It
was
as
if
the strings operat-
stretched out, threadbare, because
the expression
I
wanted.
I
"You OK, Barry?" Gannick asked. "Just tired."
we
summoned
I
a
got a prospectus or a press
"Video of
"The uh, "There
.
.
.
?"
resorts
aren't
and
anywhere on
kit
or
.
.
animation. "Well, have
video?"
or—"
any
resorts!"
Purchek brought
his
hands together as
then did a sort of joyful wringing instead, shifted
said, a little impishly, this planet, ah, Barry."
Really, Really,
.
little
Putchek asked.
he'd clap them, and his chair,
focus, a
little
Weird Stories
if
on
"Club Eden doesn't send people to
John Shirley
204 Ticket TO Heaven was
It
my
sharp focus. I'm
turn to blink in confusion.
They had my attention.
wrong—I know I'm
a
knew,
it
was
manned,
of the
room jumped
at
it
times—but did
I
into
me if
lose twenty or
in the next century alluvasudden? Last
I'm sure of
just 2016;
More
turned to Gannick. "Correct
it.
Interplanetary travel
is
I
un-
still
right?"
manner of
a
"It's
out of
little
Are we
thirty years somewhere.'^
I
planet, per se,"
speaking. We're not sending people to another
Putchek explained. "We're sending them to another
.
.
.
another existential focal point. Another plane, to use the metaphysical jargon. I
We
looked
send them to Heaven"
and then
at Putchek,
sensurround
laser
Gannick said
slowly,
He
guess,
I
Gannick. "Heaven.
some kind of
A
gone someplace.
of
.
.
.
you
sort of mind-trip
electronic stimulation of the brain or—"
shot a glance of polite inquiry at Putchek.
Putchek hemmed, getting ready to haw. look
at
Hke
it
that."
there. Yourself.
He
would
"If ah, if
glanced up at me.
Then you'd
.
.
.
accept
stared at his reflection in his shoes, it
Some kind
"Nuh-ope. They put you in a machine and
really feel physically like you've
through,
at
show, huh?— 360-degree screens, incense?"
and
"It'd really
it."
his
you
He
You
like.
help
if
can, ah,
you went
looked embarrassed,
mouth was shut— as much
shut, with his overbite— and aU of a
as
sudden he worried me.
The next day was Samrday. Under the business-incentive labor laws, most of the population had to work on Samrday. But not me, I could putter around my weekend house with a drink in my hand. Getting gloomier as I got drunker, opaquing the windows and dialing the lights low, enjoying the gloom, hugging the house's darkness. Thinking about
the Club
We
Eden demonstration
send them
supposed.
Heaven,
Some
to
shrugged.
I
went
What
I
go to on Monday.
to
said.
Neurological heaven,
to the picture
was something only a few could
The
spring afternoon was startling,
tastelessly garish after the artificial twilight
Tumbler in hand,
afford.
window, thumbed the button, and the window of
my
I
made my head
looked out over one of Hartford's
urbs. Trees lined the street with
al-
house.
blinked in the unwanted sunshine, and the whiskey
ache.
I
was new?
else
glass rippled into transparency.
most
was supposed
pleasure-inducing machine, perhaps.
at Putchek's prices,
I
I
Heaven, Putchek had
prettiest sub-
newly budded clouds of soft green; here
and there were the bright pom-poms of flowering had no idea exactly what kind of
trees
fruit trees.
most of them were. Really, Really,
I
realized
I'd lived
I
here
Weird Stories
John Shirley for five years,
my
Ticket to Heaven 205
and
neighbor's
But
know what kind of trees were on the
I
didn't
first
name.
knew my neighbor was
I
Passed, in Connecticut Village.
We
Security Passed.
When you
drove
were
all
Or
Security
you showed the
in,
checkpoint guards your Residency Card, or gave a
street.
number. To
visitor's
get a Residency Card, to be passed, you had to have a B-3 credit rating,
and of course no record
as a felon.
It
was a closed community, but not
community
internally gregarious; the fragmentation of true
tended
its
we had had our
where
anti-roots even here,
We
feeling ex-
We had television; we had the Net. We
looked cozy.
and shopping networks;
interactive video lifestyles.
all
had shrugged off the
responsibility that acknowl-
edging strangers brings. Because one stranger leads to another, and not very far beyond the checkpoint was the crumbling border of Hartford's
we
Shacktown, swollen with strangers
didn't
want
And
to meet.
tried
not to think about. I
wasn't always the model resident of Connecticut Village.
some
stuff for
ing; before
The Reformist, before
I'd
Gannick found me. What
teous, foolishly idealistic stuff
.
.
gotten scared into I'd
written
was
I'd
written
money hunt-
pretty self-righ-
.
Like:
Every town has
its
Shacktown, squatter enclaves grown up in
the cracks betw^een the neat units the cities have less,
little
high-security
Urban
the disenfranchised of every profession: those
in industry
and
oil,
who worked
before hands-on industry became an over-
became an obsolete energy
source; those
seas venture
and
who worked
in construction before the contractors
enty-five
Village
become; the refuge of the legions of home-
oil
went
to sev-
percent premolded structures and robotics. Those
without white collar work
skills;
or those who'd failed to
fit
in
with the country's biggest employer, the "service" industry, that great consumer-supply
mechanism so
machine on a poultry ranch
The Shacktowns two
.
.
a chicken feeding
like
.
are tenanted by people
who, a decade or
ago, built the affluence that the privileged feed off of
Jobless minorities are in the Shacktowns, of course. old. Since the
growth
demographic
shifts
of the
of geriatric medicine, the old
mouldering
slice
of the population.
And
late
'90s,
now.
And
the
and the
have become a huge, millions of
them went
discarded, forgotten, cold-shouldered by the post-welfare soci-
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
2o6 Ticket TO Heaven
ety:
the fresh new, shiny world where Entrepreneurs are messi-
ahs,
where those who
Earn are cast into the outer dark-
failed to
beyond the borders of the
ness,
Stuff like that. Foolish stuff.
Anyway, why go on about
it,
profit
margin
.
.
.
The generalization of college journalism. when the response is always the same?
They'll say, "So what?"
And
the Residency
if
Committee knew
The
written that stuff for
I'd
Reformist, I'd never have been Security Passed for Connecticut Village.
Sometimes
I
passed Shacktown on the freeway. Just a sort of smudgy
gray tumble of shanties glimpsed through the hurricane fence. side a microchip-driven car whistling
poor were reduced
came a
visual
smoothly
down
From
the freeway, the
The whole world
to a blur of embarrassment.
in-
be-
shrug at a hundred and ten miles an hour.
knew it when Gannick said, "The FDA's given Club Eden full approval. The patent bureau, everyone, they're lining up to give their blessing." It was the way he said it. Quick, I
knew there was
bribery in
it
somewhere.
with an undertone that warned didn't ask
why
ously, they'd
me
I
not to harp on the subject. So
there hadn't been any newspaper talk about
worked hard
to
keep
it
mum
till
yet.
it
I
Obvi-
was a fait
federal approval
accompli. Wouldn't want any nosy Senate subcommittees to delay approval
.
.
.
It was Monday afternoon, and we were in what was to be the Club Eden showroom. Me, Gannick, Putchek and Putchek's secretary, Buffy. She was a sort of human Happy Face who went by "Buffy" with no outward evidence of shame. The showroom had been the front office of a large travel agency. The
posters and brochure racks and desks and the
with the
snail-shell
only the transport lights in
middle-aged ladies
rig, like
a
hump
now
there
was
of frozen milk under the fluorescent
one corner of the room, and some paint-jigsawed newspapers
around the I
fat,
hairdos had been cleared out, and
looked
freshly rollered walls. at the transport rig
and
told myself.
Take
it
easy;
it's
probably
harmless. It
looked harmless.
seats
you get
stylized, a
into at
It
looked
like
little
an arcade. Except, on the outside
imitation racecar
it
was
all
designer-
sculpmred teardrop of imitation mother-of-pearl. The
door was open. Inside there was a
No
one of those
controls, nothing else.
I
asked,
chair,
"No
and a few
dials
on
little
a dashboard.
helmet? Something to wire into
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ticket to Heaven 207
the brain, to create the illusion?
uh—"
thing and,
had
I
paint suffused the shuttered
Putchek cleared
Or do you
just inject
them with some-
to cough; a recent coat of freshly applied blue
room with
his throat.
quivery fumes.
No
"No.
other, ah, fixtures are necessary
mostly automatic."
It's
might be expected, was short,
Buffy, as
haired,
and dimple-cheeked. She had
stubby,
pudgy white
with white
nails
of a test "I'm
fingers
glitter.
pert, faintly
plump, auburn-
and
silver-flecked china-blue eyes
awkwardly extended by three-inch
blue
nails;
She wore a puce jumpsuit, which was her version
pilot's get-up.
ready!" she told Gannick, a
all
Her
too eagerly.
trifle
voice was
breathy and maddeningly affected.
"Have you done "Oh, uh-huh,
this before, Buffy?"
"They're
a kinda test
pi-
monkeys and pigeons"
that,
using pigeons," Gannick whispered to
still
into the machine.
and climbed
asked.
"Mm-hmm, and we had
sure!" she lilted.
and before
lot guy,
I
me
as she turned
She closed the door behind
her.
The
rig
hum.
started to
Putchek
tilted his
dirty spectacles
head back,
washed out
Putchek said absendy,
as
if
listening to
in the light.
some beloved
"One of our
song. His
big selling points,"
going to be a money-back guarantee."
"is
Gannick's eyebrows shot up. "Money-back guarantee? That's a big Frank.
risk,
there are there're
mean, everyone
I
all
met who's
I've
tried
enthused-but
no two
exactly alike.
If
there're even twenty percent
who
don't
the experience—"
like
"I can't
go
into
all
in his shoes again,
the details," Putchek said slowly, looking at himself in his pockets. "But let's just say
hands
nine percent confident that virtually everyone will risk.
But
The
it's
rig's
worth
I felt
chest, a pinching at the
had a peculiar
lieve
me.
And
risen in pitch-and
then the
I
winced
a ripple go through me,
back of
my
feeling that Buffy
Putchek glanced
like
we
it.
are ninety-
There's
some
it."
humming had
the audible range.
I
it is
kinds of people out there. Brain chemistries, metabolisms-
room was normal
at the rig.
passed out of
and a tighmess
around me.
all
it
in
my
For the briefest of moments,
throat.
was
as
It
was
cloying, be-
again.
"She'll be out
in,
oh, five minutes, vacation
complete." I
looked
at him.
"Once we won't be
"What's the
list
get rolling, ah, five
selling the
Really, Really,
machines
at
Weird Stories
price
on
this?"
thousand newbux per vacation.
all,
for at least a decade.
And
it's
We gim-
John Shirley
2o8 Ticket to Heaven
micked so anyone find a glob of "Five I
feel
telling
breaking into one to see
tries
stared at him. "A thousand
I
Gannick glaring
at
Putchek was unruffled. "Only
They think
personalities are.
at
feel like
me
as
will
only
me. Don't offend the
a minute?"
bills
the glare
client,
me.
utes to them.
may
works
its
slag inside"
thousand newbux."
could
was
who
smoking
if
an
It'll
feel
eternity.
to say,
Hke
at
month
at least a
Of pure,
What do you
open mouth aimed
objectively. It doesn't feel like five
months. Depends on
it's
me—if
how
looked,
I
some
has passed. For
He
uninterrupted happiness."
say to TFIAT? His head
I'd
min-
subjective their it
looked
back; his
tilted
could have checked out his
tonsils.
One
of Putchek's technicians came
in.
He
was a blond
samurai haircut; he was wearing an orange jumpsuit,
He
nately stitched onto each shoulder.
thing
I
box of microchips
music. Putchek glanced at
him
needs the guidance chips;
it's
his
in irritation. "Chucky,
it's
He
earphones.
head
to the
not that
rig that
to the rig, snaking his
the other one."
But Chucky didn't hear him. It
or-
sang sotto voce along with some-
heard only as a seashell sound leaking from
carried a small
with a
kid,
CLUB EDEN
He opened
the door of the
rig.
was empty.
Gannick put the scotch down doctor's
We
in front of
me and
said,
"Drink
it."
command.
were
in Putchek's office,
and
was
I
its
foreclaws,
and on the other
glowering. His expression said. You're
He was
in Putchek's chair.
standing solicitously over me, making a motion with his hands cleaning
Like a
side of the desk,
making a
like
a
fly
Gannick was
on
great impression
the client just great.
But the
girl
was gone.
be OK,"
"I'll
I
said. "I just
.
.
.
funny for a second."
felt
I
looked
Putchek, and then rolled the chair back so he wasn't breathing
"Some kind of
He
shook
We
stage-magic cabinet?"
his head. "She's
were going to
let
gone, projected. Sliding between planes.
people believe
it
was
.
.
.
was
all
ears are burning!" Buffy
announced,
We
in the head, for a while.
thought they'd be too scared otherwise. But believe
"My
at
on me.
me—she—
giggling, as she
came
into
the room. She looked flushed, happy as three-year-old with a mouthful
of chocolate. "I'm OK!" she said. "I've been to Heaven."
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ticket to Heaven 209 CX3
Sometimes, alone
home,
at
myself into taking the
CX>
00
looked
I
at
my
and
free pass
me
Heaven. Gannick wanted
trip to
tried to talk
to take
it,
for
else w^anted to take All three of my me to get them passes. Tickets to Heaven. Just as if they hadn't called me subhuman, cold-blooded, and the other things I can't go into without my stomach knotting up. Betty and Tracy
promotional inspiration. Everyone
had
ex-wives
cooing said,
me, posing
at
"You owe
But
didn't
I
it.
called, asking
me
as affectionate
go to Heaven myself. Not
for a long time.
was a good excuse, because Winslow
months
after Buffy vanished
my weekdays It
flashed the holo.
spread
its
It
He
hall
C
scary.
is
my place
snarled, "Yeah?
open
it
I
met him night;
I
was
six
in
in Connecticut.
Whatf" And then he
and the 3-D Federal eagle
his wallet,
and across
wallet,
told myself
So when the doorbell
interruptions.
I
I
an excuse.
was Friday
brook
flipped
wings in the
banner: Jeffrey
just
door,
least
I
opened the
I
and came back.
apartment, packing to go out to
was a time when
rang and
Celia, of course
bastard."
was because of Winslow. But no, Winslow was
He
But
little sisters.
and more, you
this
its
was the luminous
breast
Winslow, Special Agent, Food and Drug Admin-
istration.
"Mr. Barry Thorpe?"
"Uh. Useless to deny
Winslow
right?"
it,
didn't crack a smile.
He was
black-suited, with the fashion-
able bureaucrat's triple-tongue necktie-and he tion.
The Ghost
of Bureaucracy Past,
briefcase instead of a ball
He
looked
me
at
and
I
was an
albino.
No
Trespassing sign.
"I'm doing a series of interviews, Mr. Thorpe, to follow up
May I come
porary approval of Club Eden.
want
to talk to Putchek.
appari-
chain.
with an expression stark as a
"You got the wrong guy I'm
An
thought. Carrying an alumitech
just
on our tem-
in?"
the barker;
I
don't
own
the carny
You
Maybe Gannick."
be talking to them again." He waited. The FDA is responsible for more than food and drugs; Club Eden used a machine that affected people physically, hence it was under their jurisdic"I've talked to
tion.
And was
routine.
I'll
hence, Winslow.
Resignedly,
He
them.
all
I
said,
"Come on
questions.
"When you
No
in."
accusations.
And
all
the questions
are they paid for the interview?" Things he already
Until he slung this
Really, Really,
seemed
interview a returned vacationer for an endorsement,
one
at
me
knew
the answer to.
underhand: "Are you aware of any sums
Weird Stories
2IO Ticket to
John Shirley
Heaven
paid by Mr. Putchek or Mr. Gannick or their representatives to agents or functionaries of the
FDA?"
thought: No, they don't
I
tell
anyone but
the
guy
they're bribing. But
said was, "No."
all I
"Thanks very much." "That'll
do
He
stood up and gave
And he
for this time."
it
me
a limp handshake.
left.
This time?
went out
I
"It's
at the
to a bar,
found a pay phone, and called Gannick.
power
struggle
guy Winslow works for the guys trying to
pull off
nothing,"he told me. "There's a
FDA.
the coup.
And
this
They want
to prove
little
bureaucratic
wrongdoing on the part of the FDA com-
missioners, take over their jobs. But they got nothing.
Uh, did he ask
about the Charred Pad Effect? Corporeal Side Effects?"
"No. What side straight
scoop on
Gannick, I'm supposed to get the
effects are those? this stuff
when
I—"
"Hey, we're not holding out on you. Nothing important. Don't worry
about
it;
it's all
Barry: just
knew Gannick's
I
So
buUshit. Hey,
hung up, and
I
God
knows,
was
I
in
I
got a steak burning;
head out to Connecticut and forget
it
my
tried to forget
office,
brainstorming a
new
it.
fifteen-second spot for the hit:
Yoshio Smith: Assas-
Club Eden was a major sponsor for the show.
was watching a video of the writer Alejandro Buckner,
I
his first
Club Eden vacation.
He was beaming,
was round-faced, and normally he looked was
positively cherubic.
biblical
go—Listen,
about Winslow.
sounded good when people described
sin for the CLA.
gotta
don't-ask-questions-if-you-love-your-paycheck tone.
Federal Broadcasting Agency's latest prime-time
no
I
it."
God
Heaven perhaps
"Heaven
in evidence, fill
the
bill.
no
is
like
still
talking
in afterglow.
about
Buckner
a sadistic cupid; today he
not Christian, particularly; there
angels, precisely,
But Heaven
is
though the Prefects of
will satisfy the Christian, the
Buddhist, or the Hindu. Anyone."
"Some people have claimed Heaven looks it
isn't really so. It's
just
depends on which part you tend to get projected
cided by your personality.
Some people
sort of idealized suburb. it
was a
series
to.
And
It
that's de-
are projected into the pastoral
Heaven, some of them into the urban one.
only,
everybody—but
different for
got a landscape, definite topographical features ...
Many
into the
one
that's
a
Me, I'm an unabashed urban Heaven man-
of roof-top gardens; a sort of Hanging Gardens of
Babylon variation of the great penthouses of Manhattan. But of course,
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley in
Heaven
there are
Ticket to Heaven
there are
no pigeon droppings;
no thudding
there
no smog, no
is
helicopters, screaming jets—though
acid rain;
you might see
some aerial gliders, impossibly graceful; everything has a sort of nimbus, like when you do certain drugs—but when you look close, you see it's just the shine off that thing's perfection, the natural glow of
you don't get
how
just
Heaven, but sometimes you
tired in
when
its
excellence;
and
no maggots, no
things,
no
defecation,
some-
it's
no mos-
the people around you want to sleep; there are
no venomous
quitoes,
sleep,
halitosis;
more like dancing— somehow it loses all its earthly clumsiness. And it never becomes excessive, even though the orgasms are slow, full, and not enervating. Food
there
is
sex in Heaven, however you
exudes from the tables as you need
like
but nothing
easy,
is
no faux
awkward
pas, or
smells, but
no bad
dull.
is
smells.
mood. There
Heaven
snow—but
is
dies. Every-
when
only
dullards;
and
smells,
not in the
is
soft
least dull.
everyone's in the
contention
is
to be. Perfection
is
contention there, but never acrimony;
is
into gluttony.
Nothing
ill.
There are sharp
silences.
There are storms, and there
fall
fall
There are no conversational
say again that
I
it's
but you never
it,
You cannot break your bones; you cannot thing
but
it,
all
glorious sport, in Heaven."
cant be
It
suspicious, lieved
want
that perfect,
is
thought.
I
improbable, and
when he
said,
"You
I
can't
I
didn't
want
wanted Heaven
do
just
it
be
to
real.
So
I
was
anything you want there.
If
re-
you
to interrogate the other entities-they look like people, but then
again, they don't; they're
you want to ask
all
sort of soft-edged
awkward questions about the
and shimmery-anyway, place, then you've
if
brought
a lot of 'inappropriate psychodynamics' with you, as one of the Prefects said to
Heaven. So the Prefects-they look flies,
All inappropriate in
me. You've brought 'neurotic attachments.'
glows, without the
like firefly
and much larger-they swarm up
to
you and
sort of
fire-
smooth you
your pushiness, your capacity for violence are answered only with a sort of imquestions and your questions. Your pression: that the place is indeed something you're supposed to have
and then you forget
out,
earned. That
enough
about the place I
a 'higher state of
it's
that should be
.
all
communion with
for you. But
there's
something
And
the universe.' else
.
kind of funny
." .
.
leaned forward, sharply attentive.
Buckner said
who
abstractedly,
are native to
snub you
it,
well, they
or anything; there's
benevolent surprise. As
Really, Really,
"The
if
look
entities
at
you
who like
.
are there .
nothing unfriendly.
they sense that
Weird Stories
.
.
all
the time,
um, they don't really .
but there's a sort of
you don't belong there
." .
.
211
The
John Shirley
to Heaven
212 Ticket
tape ended there. Gannick's interviewer hadn't liked the direction
taking, and we had enough "good review" from him anyThe video ended, and the regular transmission on the TV monitor came on— I started to switch it off, but found myself watching. It was a news bulletin. Four tenements had collapsed an hour earlier, in the Bronx. About
Buckner was
way.
270 people were feared injured or dead. "Portions of the buildings
seemed
"Something
saying.
similar
also a low-rent area— and
damage
rain
happened about two weeks ago
we
think
Insects or acid rain or both.
really
thought about
The phone want
rang.
to
will see to
all, I
It
in Chicago— damage or acid
a result of termite
know
it
Oh. An explanation.
So don't think about
it.
that
didn't put
and the black
that
it'll
I
if
be
It felt
Even one that
like that.
was Winslow.
to see the white face
want you
just
it's
to these old buildings."
an explanation for something
you
just
crumble into dust," the housing commissioner was quoted as
to
you want
suit.
to
safe for you.
it, I
him
felt
good to have wrong when
told myself.
on-screen.
"Mr. Thorpe," he
tell
me
said, "I
anything, anything at
With respect
"You're with the FDA, not the FBI, Winslow.
didn't
I
to prosecution."
You seem
to get
them
mixed up." "Let's just say that this investigation
is
a litde special.
If
you can
tell
me
about the Corporeal Side Effects report on the Club Eden phenomena—" "I really
"If
know what you're talking about," I said sincerely. to play that game—fine. But we'll see who wins."
don't
you want
"FDA, Winslow, FDA. The other one
is
the Federal Bureau of—"
He hung up. I
shrugged. But then
and we
don't
know
Don't think about I
I
thought: Either he's a loon, or we're in trouble
it.
it.
It's
Gannick's problem.
went home.
sat in my confoam chair, nestling into its artificial hug, with the windows opaqued and the lights dimmed, playing my hiding game, pretending it was nighttime and dark out; anyway, it was dark in. I sat there I
sipping Johnnie Walker and listened to the
Heaven, and
why
don't
The
I
I
thought: / don't like this
TV
life.
/
talk
about vacationing
don't like
this
in
world. So
go f
Special Report
anchormen
talked about "the Club
Eden phenom-
enon". Described the depression and ennui Club Eden returnees slipped into
when
the afterglow
wore
off.
Noted
that there
was no
Really, Really,
actual physi-
Weird Stories
Ticket to Heaven 213
John Shirley cal addiction,
but there was an indication of compulsiveness. "After you
get over the depression," a returnee told the cameras, "you get back into
the groove of regular tired
and
for a
stiff,
life.
Everything seems kind of dingy and dirty and
while—but pretty soon you
and, you know, you stop yearning for Heaven you've got the
money
again,
Certain psychiatrists,
made
all
start to enjoy life again,
the time. But as soon as
man, you sign upV
whom
I
knew
to be in the pay of
Club Eden,
great, soft-edged, rolling claims for the therapeutic benefits of a
Club Eden vacation.
A few Southern senators muttered darkly about the
religious implications.
Club Eden had stopped
calling the projection
plane "Heaven," but that's what everyone thought
it
was. So the Moral
Majority stamped their feet and pouted.
Senator Wexler called for an investigation into the
risks, stating
it
was
only a matter of time before the transport rigs went haywire and projected if
someone
ocean— or maybe
into a mountain, or the
into Hell.
And
that didn't happen, there was a danger someone might develop "boot-
leg" transport rigs.
Club Eden had
monopoly with
the legal strength that the
all
resisted franchising.
$400
It
held onto the
million they'd
made
could give them. That was a lot of strength. After the Special Report,
I
had
my
third scotch,
announce
regular newscaster dolefully
and
that, yes, the
listened to the
government had
admitted that the country was sliding into a severe recession. Yes, there was a rather unexpected oil shortage, a general energy crunch, epidemic
problems with power plant generators around the country; indeed, around the world. And the Shacktowns were growing. I
rewound the
cassette, so
I
could
listen to
Buckner again, and take notes.
Club Eden was hot. Club Eden was The Buzz. There was suspicion, outrage, and investigations. But Club Eden kept on through it all, and
Gannick and
I
did our work.
Don't take Paradise for granted
And: So you think Pacific beach:
deep blue
palm
trees)
Who
needs drugs f
is
this (a slick
Paradise^
.
.
.
until you've tried
Kodachrome photo of
sky, crystal waters,
You haven't
tried
Club Eden.
glorious South
emblematically perfect
Club Eden. And: Club Eden:
home. Gannick encouraged me to go. Putchek encouraged me. Putchek went himself sometimes. There was a could stay, somelimit to how often you could go, and how long you Putchek went as but thing to do with electromagnetic stress on the body, I
had
my free
pass, locked
up
at
often as the safety regimen would allow.
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Heaven
214 Ticket to
He said poker at the club with a pretty girl bringing
Gannick didn't go.
the dry martinis was heaven enough for him.
"But
So
I
want you
to go," he said.
my apartment on
sat in
I
"OK, Barry?"
a Saturday evening, a year after Buffy
about Winslow—he'd same.
The Shacktowners didn't
looked
it. I
I
use
couldn't afford a ticket to Heaven. But
it? I
at the pass.
when
That's
had
pass.
almost forgotten about him.
I'd
So why
my
Not worrying come only once more, and it had been more of the
vanished and came back, thinking about using
went
to the safe
I
kept the pass
in,
I
had one.
and opened
couldn't quite—
I
somehow
the doorbell rang, and
I
knew
would be
it
Winslow. Guiltily,
locked the pass away and opened the door for
I
He
stared.
looked different now. The veneer was gone. So was the
badge and the alumitech
and dark smelled I
"Come on
He out.
and he
in
left lens
He wore on
the dark glasses was cracked.
Winslow here and
and have a
drink,"
I
"As
said.
liked
I
if
The clouds
better.
"Gotta
it.
It
was
at this range.
small, a .25,
"No. You come
along a pitted gravel road, under a lowering gray
sky.
horizon were reddening in sunset and beginning to
at the
rain; in the
him
you needed one."
reached into a pocket and took a gun from
would put a hole right through me, Were going for a drive."
We were walking
He
said.
it
shed
a cheap printout paper suit
listed to the right.
different
Winslow
talk to you,"
briefcase.
and the
glasses;
like beer,
was seeing a
but
him—and
red
tint
it
looked as
if
the clouds were bleeding.
We
walked between the shanties of Shacktown, through smells that would have stopped
sive care that
visor—and sation
I
me
a brick wall
like
Winslow was
coat pocket.
if
the gun hadn't been in Winslow's
talking, talking, talking,
with a sort of exces-
only underlined his drunkenness. "Mr. Danville—my super-
received a sort of
anonymous
tip,
a transcription of a conver-
between two lawyers, one for a certain Janet Rivera and the other
working
Club Eden. Club Eden was offering Janet Rivera a
for
ment, a million newbux, and she took the
money and
ran. It
fat settle-
seems that
with a very minor adjustment of the transport rig— or a power surge at the
wrong time— the
Perhaps
He
it's
like this
vacationer will arrive in something very like Hell. ." .
.
gestured vaguely at the packed-in, mud-encrusted, sewage-reeking
shanties; the
drawn
faces peering
from beneath
plastic sheets nailed over
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ticket to Heaven 215
He went
crooked doorways.
on, "Perhaps
worse. Ms. Rivera was
it's
Watch out, that dog wants a piece of your thigh. He's wild was a bony yellow mongrel, its eyes cloudy, its muzzle ribbed with a snarl. Winslow took the gun from his pocket and said, "This'U feed some'a these kids." sent to such a Hell. Apparently,
Ms. Rivera barely kept her .
The gun
cracked, making
and
legs buckled,
scurried out
"The
me
jump, as he shot the dog in the head.
An
twitching.
it fell
old
woman, muttering
and dragged the dead dog by the
transcript got us interested,"
down the road.
.
sanity.
." It
into her hut.
tail
Winslow went on
as
we
continued
glanced over a shoulder and saw a small crowd follow-
(I
ing us at a careful distance; a convention of scarecrows.) "And
our chance to pull
we'd had enough.
we
Its
to herself,
didn't expect.
down
the commissioners.
They were
we saw
corrupt,
and
We probed, and probed, and came up with something A correspondence between the increase in Club Eden
vacationers and the statistical deterioration of the living conditions of
people around them. Putchek knew about charring' because they likened the trips to
was
it
it:
Heaven
called 'launchpad
to the launchings of
rocket ships—and the launchpads are charred by rocket-ship engines,
Thorpe. Club Eden's launchpad fects
rich
on
our worid;
its
charring
the side
is
ef-
the world: the worsening recession, the widening gap between
and poor. And
Look Thorpe We had come .
.
."
as
He
it
went on, the exchange became more
shanties
fallen, partly
were
Thick, oily drops
drumming
its
.
.
literal.
soft,
was about four hundred yards
It
could see, coated with fine gray-black dust.
up
to
were
half
freckling the gravel
and
rim; those nearest
its
it
ashen ground.
of rain pattered
down,
tin rooftops, drumrolling faster and faster as the
Under
increased.
I
built right
sunk in
.
gestured at something.
to a pit in the earth.
across, and deeper than
The
is
downpour
impact, three of the shacks around the rim of the
crater collapsed at once, buckling like the shot dog, crumbling like sand
casdes under a wave;
I
heard
human
voices crying out
from the
shambles, a dissonant choir, wailing; glimpsed faces in the muddy ash, faces stamped with resignation. Swallowed up a moment later. "There
more like these, Thorpe. All over the world. They sprang up afgone into these ter Club Eden got really big. Thousands of people have So they Despair. inertia. of ... of pits. They're all caught up in some kind
are lots
don't fight
it.
You can
feel the pit pulling at
you
.
my need
to survive. Pulling
forward, to pitch myself
Really, Really,
me
in.
Weird Stories
apart,
."
He was
right:
I felt
my sense of self-worth, me want to take a step
the pit tugging at me, a sort of vacuum sucking at
making
.
2i6 Ticket
John Shirley
TO Heaven
"There's a Federal coverup of
"Shut up,"
said.
I
all
wrenched
I
this—"
my
Winslow was
gaze from the
throw myself in had almost overwhelmed me.
me
anymore. "Shoot
or not,"
I
I
it
turned and started
I
rain.
Once, he
to fire into the air to disperse the crowd. But in twenty minutes
were
we
in his car.
"Perhaps what happened to effects that hits
haps
mer
to
there
waited for the gunshot. After a
moment he was walking beside me, hunched against the had
The urge
couldn't stand
I
"I'm leaving."
said.
walking back the way we'd come.
saying.
pit.
it'll
hit
who
you, eventually."
the roof.
nothing at
anyone
all.
He
me and
took off
Danville
doesn't
We
visit
part of the pattern of
is
Heaven," Winslow
said. "Per-
sat in his car, listening to the rain
his sunglasses
and focused
his
ham-
pink eyes on
"We were fired. They said we'd gone beyond the confines we had. That we'd made things up. We hadn't." He
of our job, which
tugged idly at a sleeve of his paper
and the
worked on
the acid rain had
suit;
it,
came away in his fingers. "I've run out of money. My on my back. But what matters—what should have
sleeve
clothes are rotting
mattered—" he looked I
He
said,
"Why
"Just a feeling.
thing was
this
way
guess,
I
is
didn't
That
all right.
Heaven when
I
at
didn't say anything.
I
me
"—are those people out there."
was choking on what
you take the it
was going too
That
there are so
it
what
it
boils
many people
down
had seen.
far into
was going too
couldn't look away,
I
trip.^"
far to
in Hell. It
somehow.
It
was
pretending that every-
wallow
in
our private
was always wrong, but
just a step
too
far.
Guilt,
to."
"You had the right instincts, Thorpe. I knew it when I interviewed you— I could tell the whole thing bothered you. I did my homework on you. Read those pieces you wrote a few years back. I know you're not happy about what you do for Gannick; persuading people to squander millions on the poindess consumption of crap. It bothers you. But you were addicted "Mostly
up a had
I
do
what
are
money."
just scared.
safety margin.
to
I
Of not having an income
was scared of ending up
You don't. You saw what you going to do about it?" didn't.
don't have any proof of bribery.
Or
you something: the public doesn't want
want
it
like
enough
big
to save
those people ... So
I
it."
"No, you
"I
to the
was
it
led to
anything
.
.
go
questioned, or fought. TTiey want Heaven, and
So,
And
else.
this thing to
.
sour.
let
me
tell
They don't
damn
Really, Really,
Thorpe—
the conse-
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ticket to Heaven 217
quences, and they're paying into a lot of senatorial campaigns to see to
chances for Heaven aren't disturbed.
their
"You're wrong, Thorpe.
do a goddamn
can't
I
What you can do
is,
precisely, a
it
thing."
God Damned
'
Thing,
knew what he wanted me
I
away;
I
could escape
couldn't.
I
saw the
I
had
my back on
turn
pit.
my
lost
Having seen
trip to
It
throttle one;
was. it
was
It
was
like
should do
I
that,
moral innocence.
it.
I
could get
I
could
to dust.
I
.
.
felt
was transformed by
I
And knowing:
couldn't
I
to do?"
Heaven."
going to be hard, Winslow had
ever done.
reason
"What do you want me
it.
with a
"It starts
It's
I
No
whose expressions had gone
faces
the suction of the entropy
knowledge.
to do.
could begin going to Heaven myself.
this. I
like
said.
Maybe
someone who
the hardest thing you've
loves puppies being forced to
seeing your mother for the
and then— though you love her—having
first
time in ten years,
to spit in her eye at the
moment
of reunion. It
was
warm,
like
being in Heaven and spurning
like living in
it.
The
vista
an Impressionist's landscape—and,
sionism, never dull.
I
was nude but unashamed;
was sweet,
like great
soft,
Impres-
for the first time
I felt
I was drifting weightless over the treetops, amount of sunshine, feeling the caress of the and reveling in the surge of joy that was arrival: the
nudity without awkwardness.
basking in
the right
just
music they gave
off,
sight of Friends (Friends
I
had never known before) awaiting
me
in the
garden, turning with a luminous gladness in their faces— I
wrenched myself away and began
The like
act brought the Prefects of
Heaven; they emanated from the
trees
a thought from a synapse, and spiraled gracefully round me: soft
lights, living
in
to Seek.
me—but,
thrust
questions.
They drew closer
to assuage the misplaced Desire
with a crackle of lightning that was an expression of Will,
them back. Refused
to let
them soothe me
into
I
Heaven.
What, then? they asked.
Without speaking, For surely
You
are
nizer has
who
I
asked them:
How is
it
we're permitted here at
all?
was something to be earned. permitted here because you have come here. The Great Orgathis place
made
creates
all
this place; the
Great Organizer
orderliness and harmony. You are
is
the living Principle,
here, in Absolute Har-
mony, so the Organizer must intend it. I told them what had happened on our wodd, to the poor. things had worsened. I asked them why it had happened. Really, Really,
Weird Stories
How
John Shirley
TO Heaven
2i8 Ticket
There are Laws regarding the conservation of matter and energy. If
you
a cup from a
fill
bottle, the bottle will
be that
Your privileged are emptying
much
emptier.
Your
out: the others
must
world
is
suffer.
There are machines of metaphysical truth that underlie physical
things.
You have tampered with
the bottle.
the machines.
it
Your wealthy surround
themselves with stolen Grace, with the subatomic essence of orderliness, stolen
from the
the price: so others
This place, then, It is
all
must no supernatural
is
a function of Law:
laws of what you
This place
is
Grace prevents them from paying
exploited. This stolen
all
paradise?
laws incorporating what you
call Science,
and laws your people
a great device; just as in your world a church
construct to represent the idea of holiness, here
call Physics,
haven't learned.
we used a
is
a physical
physical con-
struct to materialize holiness.
Heaven is created by a machine? A machine birthed by the great Machine that is the universe. Then tell me how I can make adjustments, to right the imbalance Yes.
the machine, to arrest the deterioration
The obvious, they "For me,
it
on our end of
in
things.
said.
began with a can opener.
saw a hand holding an
I
old-fashioned can opener, the kind you have to stab into the can. it into my belly, opening it like a lid, my groin; through the pain I looked harder at the, hand and saw it was my own. I could not say that I had no control over I controlled the hand, but I was making it cut me open. I
But the hand was stabbing sawing toward
it.
was no masochist;
I
did not enjoy
it. I
screamed for
it
to stop,
and
I
meant it. After a while the wound went away, but of course, by then I
was making another. Not wanting
paradox sneered screen where
my
at
boy
in Spanish
suffering, in
all
expiation
.
shit
on
it,
and
.
.
.
Later I
I
used
None
of
it
voluntarily.
I
and knew
bought the favors of a
My sensations of humiliation and it
were not diminished brought
me
relief
found gasoline and tools and all
The
was watching the great
I
stupidities replayed,
another screen as
Harlem
familiarity. .
and
their permutations,
by time or .
but doing
me. At the same time
humiliations
my mother watched on small
to,
in the least
or a sense of
glass with
dog
these things to-
—From
an interview with Frank Putchek,
in the security
ward of Bellevue Hospital's Mental Health Really, Really,
facility.
Weird Stories
Ticket to Heaven 219
John Shirley was imprinted
It
in
my mind when
We
came back from Heaven. The
new guidance
ments, the equations for the rig.
I
had imprinted the adjustments: the
Prefects
went from one Club Eden transport
the country,
Winslow and
I,
literal,
electronic adjust-
chips to go into the transport station to another, across
wearing the Club Eden technicians'
jumpsuits I'd stolen, pretending to be doing routine service checks.
Mak-
ing the adjustments.
We
set
it
up so our readjustments applied
exclusively to the
new
ten-
minute vacations, which were available only to the wealthiest vacationers.
The
pires; the
And
industrial barons, their spoiled children; the corporate
vam-
corrupt politicians.
of course, there was Putchek.
had spoken to Putchek,
who had
We
saw
to that. Because
admitted he'd
known
early
Winslow on about
the side effects of granting First Class Tourist passage to Heaven.
Putchek had known, and had not cared. Putchek was the first
first
to go; the
of many.
By degrees, it began to. work: the suffering of the exploited and the abandoned began to be reversed, and some of the garbage pits became gardens.
The
ashpits cleared
up
like
the healing of geological chancres.
The Shacktowners found strength: they organized, and built, and made demands. There was no Utopia there, and never will be. But there was dignity,
We
and soon there was food and
shelter.
The adjustments worked. It worked because sloppy about security. Which meant we were able
restored the balance.
Club Eden had gotten
to send a surprisingly large
number of people
to Hell.
But then again, maybe that shouldn't have surprised
Really, Really,
Weird Stories
us.
Really,
Reallj^^^'y-
^Veird
Stories
Ash
A police car pulled up
to the entrance of the
on
the apartment building,
Casa Valencia. The door
was ahnost camouflaged by the businesses around the stand-out orange
his
his
it,
wedged between
and blue colors of the Any Kind Check Cashing
Center and the San Salvador Restaurant. Ash
and sipped
to
the edge of San Francisco's Mission district,
made
a note
on
his pad,
cappuccino as a bus hulked around the comer, blocking
view through the window of the espresso shop. The cops had shown
up a good
thirteen minutes after he'd called in the
anonymous
tip
Casa Valencia. Which worked out good. But when
on a was
robbery
at the
time to
pop the armored car at the Check Cashing Center next door, show up more briskly. Especially if a cashier hit a silent alarm.
it
they might
The bus
pulled away.
Only a few
cars passed, impatiently clogging the
corner of 6th and Valencia, then dispersing; pedestrians, with clothes flapping, hurried along in tight groups, as
the moist February wind. streets before this twilight
Just around the corner
first
manager from cop
his
in
New
some
cruiser.
they were being tumbled by
dark. first car,
arrived.
double-parking with
its
lights
By now, though, the bruise-eyed
Delhi or Calcutta or wherever was telling the it
was a
false alarm,
probably
The cop nodwindow of Dunkin' Donuts. Ash re-
junkie he'd evicted, just to harass him.
watery sympathy.
SFPD
if
instead by eagerness to get off the
that he hadn't called anyone;
called in by
ded
from the
second police car
flashing, the
hotel
Blown became
Then
The second cop
they both
split,
called through the
off to
Any minute now the armored car would be evening money drop-off. There was a run of check
laxed, checking his watch.
showing up for the cashing after
five o'clock.
Ash sipped the dregs of his cappuccino. He thought about the .45 in the shoebox under his bed. He needed target practice. On the slim Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ash 223
chance he had to use the gun. The thought made
mouth go
He
dry, his groin tighten.
wasn't sure
if
his heart thud, his
the reaction was fear
or anticipation. This, now, this bery. Pushing
was being
back
alive.
at the world.
Planning a robbery, executing a rob-
Making a dent
in
it,
this time.
For
thirty-
nine years his responses to the world's bullying and indifference had
been measured and
careful
and more or
less passive.
He'd played the
game, pretending that he didn't know the dealer was stacking the
He'd worked
faithfully, first for
Grenoble Insurance, then for Serenity
Insurance, a total of seventeen years.
When
all.
soned
And
it
had made no difference
the recession came. Ash's middle-management job was
much
so
like
at
jetti-
trash.
shouldn't have surprised him. First at Grenoble, then at Serenity,
It
Ash had watched
had been summarily cut off
helplessly as policyholders
by the insurance companies year, gia,
cards.
at the
time of their greatest need. Every
thousands of people with cancer, with AIDS, with accident paraple-
were cut off from
the- benefits they'd
spent years paying
for,
shoved
through the numerous loopholes that insurance industry lobbyists
worked
into the laws.
ten-year-old kid with
do
it
to Ash.
Come
That should have told him:
if
leukemia— and, God, they did
the recession, bang.
they'd it
do
every
Ash was out on
it
to
some
day—they'd
his ear
with the
minimum in retirement benefits. And the minimum wasn't enough. Fumbling through the "casing process," Ash made a few more functory notes as he waited for
the armored
car.
was books about crime and the books had
per-
His hobbyhorse reading
told
him
that professional
criminals cased the place by taking copious notes about the surround-
Any Kind Check Cashing was Lee Zong, Hairstyling for Men and Women. Next to that, Starshine Video, owned by a Pakistani. ings.
On
Next
to
the Valencia side was the Casa Valencia entrance— the hotel
were layered above the Salvadoran restaurant, a dry cleaners, a bookstore. Across the
street,
rooms leftist
opposite the espresso place, was Casa
Lucas Productos, a Hispanic supermarket,
selling fruit
and cactus pears
and red bananas and plantains and beans by the fifty-pound bag. It was a hardy leftover from the days when this was an entirely Hispanic neighborhood.
Two
Now
doors
store, a black
it
was
as
much Korean and Arab and Hindu.
down from guy in a
the check-cashing scam, in front of a liquor
hooded sweatshirt stationed himself in front blocking them like a linebacker to make it harder
dirty,
of passing pedestrians,
to avoid his outstretched hand.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
224 Ash
That could be me, soon, Ash thought, rm doing the right thing. One good hit to pay for a business franchise of some kind, something that'd do well in a recession. Maybe a movie theater. People needed to escape. Or maybe his own check-cashing business—with better security.
Ash glanced
to the
left,
down
the street, toward the entrance to the
BART station: San Francisco's subway, from the check-cashing
north-bound subway would zip off
At
center.
entrance only one short block
this
five-eighteen, give or take a minute, a
hit the platform,
dowai the tunnel. Ash would be on
it,
pause for a moment, then with the money; escaping
more efficiently than he could ever hope to, driving a car in city traffic. And more anonymously. The only problem would be getting to the subway station handily. He was five-six, and pudgy, his legs a bit short, his wind even shorter. He was going to have to sprint that block and hope no one played hero. If he knew San Francisco, though, no one would.
He
looked back
at the check-cashing center just in time to see the Ar-
mored Transport of with
last
week,
just
on
knight's helmet half black
He'd heard
checked
his watch: as
about
five-twelve.
There was a picture
insignia of a
the side of the truck.
The
rest of the truck painted
which was supposed to suggest police
colors,
Ash wouldn't be intimidated by a paint job. that on Monday afternoons they brought about
fifteen
and
scare thieves.
He
California truck pull up.
half white,
grand into that check-cashing center. Enough for a dovmpayment on a franchise,
somewhere, once he'd laundered the money
Now, he watched
in
Reno.
as the old, white-haired black guard, in his black
white uniform, wheezed out the back of the armored canvas sacks of cash.
Not looking
him. His gun strapped into
its
to the right or
left,
car,
and
carrying the
no one covering
holster.
The old nitwit was as ridiculously overconfident as he was overweight. Ash thought. He'd never had any trouble. First time for everything, Uncle Remus.
Ash watched ter.
He
waddled
intently as the guard
checked
his watch, timing
him, though he wasn't sure
should, since he was planning to rob out.
him on the way
in,
why he
not on the way
But he had the impression from the books you were supposed to
time everything.
A
into the check-cashing cen-
The
reasons would
come
clear later.
bony, stooped Chicano street eccentric— aging, toothless, with a
squiggle of black mustache
and
sloppily
dyed black hair— paraded up the
sidewalk to stand directly in front of Ash's window. Crazy old
Really, Really, Really,
fruit.
Ash
Weird Stories
John Shirley thought.
A
Ash 225 on the
familiar figure
street here.
He
was wearing a Santa
Claus hat tricked out with junk jewelry, a tattered gold lame jacket, thick
mascara and
and a rose erupting a penis crudely painted on
eyeliner,
weathered cheek. The inevitable trash-brimmed shopping bag
made
hand, in the other a cane
in
his
one
into a mystical staff of office with the
gold-painted plastic roses duct-taped to the top end.
As usual the crazy old fuck was babbling free-form imprecations, spittle
making whiteheads on the window
muffled through the
glass.
and now
their
"Damnfuckya
glass.
for ya
his
"Damnfuckya!" came
abandoned
city,
ya aban-
doned city boy yes, damnfuckya! Yoruba Orisha! The Orisha, cabronl Holy shit on a wheel! Hijo de puta\ Ya doot, ya pay, they watch, they pray, they take gods are taking away, taking
like
a bend-over
a bend-over boy ya! EI-Elegba Ishu at your crossroads shithead
like
pendejol sorry!
LSD not
the godblood
now
Damnfuckya be
praise the days!
Orisha them Yoruba cabronesr
Yoruba Orisha. Sounded "Godfuckya Orisha
Maybe
the old
fruit
equivalent of Yoruba,
growth
in Yoruba's
The Lebanese
was a
and
power.
guys
familiar.
sniff 'round,
vamanos\ Chinga
tu
now
he was foaming
madreT
was the Hispanic
Santeria loony. Santeria at the
mouth about
the
Or maybe he'd done too much add in the sixties.
who
ran the espresso place, trying to fake
chic croissant espresso parlor,
it
as a
went out onto the sidewalk to chase the It was time to go
old shrieker away. But Ash was through here, anyway. to the indoor range, to practice with the gun.
On the BART train over to the East Bay, on his way to the target range. Ash
let his
mind wander, and
his eyes followed his
mind. They wandered
foggily over the otherwise empty interior of the humming, shivering train car, till they focused on a page of a morning paper someone had left on a plastic seat. It was a back-section page of the Examiner, and it was the word Yoruba in a headline that focused his eyes. Lurching with the mo-
tion of the train.
Ash crossed the
read the article without picking
Yoruba,
it
said,
it
was the growing
aisle
and
sat
down
next to the paper,
up. religion of inner city
blacks-an amal-
of African and Western mysticism. Ancestor worship with African the roots. Supposed to be scads of urban blacks into it now. Orisha
gam
name
of the
spirits.
So the Chicano it
was
Ishu El-Elegba was
some god or
getting stronger.
other.
had been squeaking about Yoruba because His latest attack of paranoia. Next week he'd be
street freak
warning people about some plot by the Vatican.
Ash shrugged, and the Really, Really, Really,
train pulled into his station.
Weird Stories
John Shirley
226 Ash CO oo oo
Ash had only fired the automatic once before—and before gun
boyhood, when he'd gone hunting with
since his
those days.
hit anything, in
He wasn't sure he
could
that hadn't fired a
his father.
hit
He'd never
anything now.
But he'd been researching gun handling. So after an hour or so—his
hand beginning
head aching from
to ache with the recoil of the gun, his
the grip of the ear protectors—he found he could
a reasonably tight
fire
pattern into the black, man-shaped paper target at the end of the gallery. It
was a
being here,
thrill
The other men along the
really.
hawk-eyed and serious as they loaded and
The
ventilators sucking
He
up the gunsmoke. The
flash of the muzzles.
pressed the button that ran his paper target back to him
wire that stretched the length of the range,
saw he'd It
firing gallery so
fired intently at their targets.
two
clustered three of the five shots into the middle
wasn't Wild
man,
on the excitement mounting as he
Bill
wouldn't
surely,
But would
Hickok, but it,
if
he
be necessary.^
it
it
was good enough.
circles.
would stop a
It
laid a pattern like that into his chest? It
shouldn't be.
He
didn't
want
to have to
shoot the old waddler. They wouldn't look for him so hard, after the robbery, shoot.
He
if
The
he didn't use the gun. Chances were, he wouldn't have to old guard would be
terrified, paralyzed. Putty. Still
.
.
.
smiled as with the tips of his fingers he traced the fresh buUet
holes in the target.
Ash was glad the week was He'd begun
to have
was nearly done. on his nerves had
over; relieved the waiting
second thoughts. The
attrition
been almost unbearable. But
now
it
was Monday
He
again. Seven minutes after five.
sat in the
espresso shop, sipping, achingly and sensuously aware of the weight of the pistol in the pocket of his trenchcoat.
The little
street crazy
with the gold roses on his cane was stumping along a
ways up, across the
armored
car pulled
street, as if
Legs rubbery. Ash
made
frameless backpack, carried
the bash of cold wind. sign,
The
himself get up. it
forehead
gun
like
traffic light
pulled the ski
was
He
The
picked up the empty,
Went out
the door, into
He
took that as a
was with him.
alacrity,
in his coat pocket.
a watch cap.
security guard
meet Ash. And then the
to
in his left hand.
and crossed with growing
grip of the
coming
around the corner.
one hand closing around the
ski
mask was folded up onto
As he reached the corner where the
just getting
mask down over
fat
out of the back of the armored his face.
And he
jerked the
Really, Really, Really,
gun
his
black
car,
he
out.
Weird Stories
John Shirley "Give
me
rehearsed
For a
Ash 227
the bag or you're dead right nowl" leveling the
it,
split
down
shirt,
w^here a
Then
to grimace at Ash.
dropping to the sidewalk snagged
as he'd
belly.
on
hesitated. Ash's eyes focused
in the guard's uniform;
the front of his
seemed
face that
man
Ash barked, Just
man's unmissable
at the old
second, as the old
something anomalous gling
gun
tie
an African charm dan-
should be.
A
spirit-mask
the rasping plop of the bag
his attention away,
gun; yelling, "Back away and drop your gun! Take
it
and Ash waved the
out with thumb and
forefinger only!" All according to rehearsal.
The gun clanked on
the sidewalk.
Ash scooped up the
away.
The old man backed
bag, shoved
it
into the backpack.
guy's gun too. But, people were yelling, across the the cops, and he just wanted away.
call
He
street, for
stumblingly
Take the old
someone
to
sprinted into the street, into
a tunnel of panic, hearing shouts and car horns blaring at him, the squeal
of
tires,
that
was
but never looking around. His eyes fixed on the dovmhill block his
path to the
Somehow he was
BART
station.
across the street without being run over,
was
five
paces past the wooden, poster-swathed newspaper kiosk on the opposite
when
corner,
the Chicano street crazy with the gold roses
cane popped into ing
all
body
his
way around
into the crazy fuck
his eyes,
foam
spiraling
cop
car's
red
from
his
light.
and they went down, one skidding atop the
stinking, clownishly
He
path from a doorway, shrieking, the whites show-
pirouetting, spinning like a
loon's
his
mouth, his whole Ash bellowed somehim and waved the gun, but momentum carried him directly
the
thing at
on
other, the
made-up face howling two inches from
his,
the
cocked knee knocking the wind out of Ash. forced himself to take
one hand and backpack
air
and
wrenched
rolled aside,
in the other, his heart
free,
the throb of approaching sirens. People yelling around him. his feet, the effort
making him
feel like
Adas
And, wheezing, the
and shining
The
crazy
fat guard's face.
He
got to
Then he
down you go
mother-
old black guard was there, gun retrieved
in his hand, breath steaming
sweat, eyes wild.
time in the
fat
in
the world.
lifting
heard a deep, black voice. "Drop 'em both or fucker!"
gun
screaming in time with
was up,
The old
from
his nostrils, dripping
then, flailing indiscriminately, this guy's
gun once more went spinning
away from him.
Now's your But
chance, Ash. Go.
his shaking
hands had leveled
his
own
gun.
Thinking: The guy's going to pick up his piece and shoot
back unless
I
gun him down.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
me
in the
228
John Shirley
Ash
No
he won't, he won't chance hitting passersby, just run-
But the crazy threw himself aside and the black guard was a
clear-cut
Ash erupted out through his hands. The gun and the old man went down. Screams in the backbanged four times ground. The black guard clutching his torn-up belly. One hand went to target
and something
in
the carved African grimace hanging around his neck. His lips moved. ran. He ran into another tunnel of perception; and down the hill. Ash was on the BART platform, and the train was pulling in. He didn't remember coming here. Where was the gun? Where was the money?
Ash
The mask? Why was his mouth full of paper? He took stock. The gun was back in his coat retreated into its hole. His ski mask was where bag
too, with the canvas
mouth.
The
It just felt
in the backpack.
that way,
on
to be, in his
moving on, stopping
on
Strange thought. Just get fore the city police clattering
it
seemed
it
the people in the platform. Trains
pulling up, feeding,
He
was supposed
There was no paper
dry.
moment,
train pulled in and, for a
feeding
come
was so
it
pocket, like a scorpion
to feed again
He
the train.
.
down
anyone
else
.
that
on
be-
they'd
all
doors closed.
just as the
station.
the train.
No
one looked
at
That was
He
his
didn't look
him. They were
all
quiet.
cops staked out the
when he
was
.
He got off at the next stop. That was his plan—get out before sit
it
over the city
here looking to shoot him.
stepped onto the train
damned
all
would coordinate with the BART police and
imagination; the adrenaline affecting him, he supposed. at
Ash
had maybe one minute
took an unusually long time to get to the next
It
to
and buses
got out of the
station.
the tran-
But he half expected them to be there
train.
He felt a weight spiral
away from him: no cops on the platform, or
at
the top of the escalator.
Next
thing,
farther,
God,
maybe it
go
to
ground and
was dark
out.
The
minutes he'd spent on the
He
didn't
recognize
He'd be conspicuous. killed
night
They'd expect him to go
No
had come so
train. Well, it
came
neighborhood.
the
Hunter's Point somewhere.
You
stay.
much
the airport.
It
quickly, in just the
fast in
few
the winter.
Maybe he was around
looked mostly black and Hispanic here.
matter, he
was committed.
a man.
Don't think about
it
now. Think about
shelter.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ash 229
He moved off down the street, scanning the signs for a cheap hotel. Had to get off the streets fast. With luck, no one would get around to telling the cops he'd ducked into the Mission Street BART station. Street people
at i6th
was
It
bars.
The
didn't confide in the cops.
and flyblown
loafers
and
husriers
and
bar-b-cue stands
corners were clumped up, as they always were, with
and
drinkers
and Mission
open-air discount stores
all
comer
and people on errands stopped to trade
gossip with their cousins. Black guys and Hispanic guys, turning to look at
Ash it
It
he passed, never pausing
as
must be some kind of fad
make much
didn't
in their
in this
sense. TTie blacks
mixed groups, which was kind of especially in the
streedights
All
wearing dark glasses; at night.
and Hispanics stood about
strange.
They communicated
in
at times,
drug trade, but they were usually more segregated. The
seemed a
cat-eye yellow here, but
increasingly misty.
somehow gave
out no
Below
illumi-
it
was a
A leprous mist that smudged the neon
of the
nation—everything above the street
dim and
murmur.
neighborhood to wear shades
level
was
pitch black.
He stared at He must have
bars, the adult bookstores, the beer signs in the liquor stores.
a beer sign as he passed. "Drink the Piss of Hope,"
read that wrong. But farther "Piss of
dovm he
Hope: The Beer That Sweedy
read
it
said.
it
again in another window:
lies."
Piss of Hope.'^
Another sign advertised Heartblood Wine Coolers. Heartblood, now. It was so easy to get out of touch with things. But .
.
.
There was something v^ong with the sunglasses people were wearing. Looking close at a black guy and a Hispanic guy standing together, he saw that their glasses weren't sunglasses, exactly.
house vmidows,
They were
the miniatures of
thickly painted over. Dull gray paint, dull red paint.
Stress. It's stress,
and the weird
light
here and what you've been through.
them watching him. All of them. He passed a group of children playing a game. The children had no eyes; they had plucked them out, were casting the eyes, tumbling them along the sidewalk like jacks.
He
could
feel
You're really freaked out. Ash thought. It'll
the shooting.
It's
It's
natural.
pass.
The
cars in the street
were
lit
from underneath, with
There were no headlights. Their windows were painted a pickup truck filled with dirty,
The crowds is
not
made out neon
of dog
shit.)
In the
Weird Stories
like
light. is
not
a parade
wino sleeping
window
sign shaped like a face.
Really, Really, Really,
out. (That
was
to either side of the sidewalk thickened. It
hissing, flickering
yellow
stark-naked children vomiting blood.)
day; like people waiting for a procession. (The old
doorway
oily
in the
of a bar, he saw a
A grimacing face of lurid
John Shirley
230 Ash
amalgamated from goat and hyena and man, a mask
strokes of neon,
He
he'd seen before.
warmth
the sign's impossible
felt
he pushed
as
through the muttering crowds.
The
meat and sour
place smelled like rotten
beer.
Now and
on
then,
the walls above the shop doors, rusty public address speakers, between
and feedback, gave out
bursts of static
seemed threaded together
announcements
filtered
one long harangue
into
as
that
he proceeded from
block to block.
"Today we have
new
offer
large pieces available
bargains, discount prices
We're slashing
.
.
prices are
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.the fever calls from below to
.
prices slashed
.
.
.
slashed
.
.
.
from below, we till he saw it was apparently driving offer ..."
.
A police car careened by. Ash froze at
random, weaving drunkenly through the
the
crowd on the opposite
one on Ash's
plowed
The cop
and then plowing
into
side of the street, sending bodies flying.
side of the street
painted-out eyes.
street
more than glanced over with
car only stopped crushing pedestrians
into a telephone pole
and
its
windows
front
No
their
when it
shattered, revealing
cracked mannequins inside twitching and sparking.
Shooting the old guard has fucked up your head. Ash thought. Just stare at the street,
He
pushed on.
look down, look away. Ash.
A
hotel a hotel a hotel.
away from
directions, get
this street.
(That
Go is
somewhere,
in
ask, get
not a whore straddling a
smashed man, squatting over the broken bone-end of a man's arm fuck
it
in the
Go
back of that van.)
to
into this bar advertising Lifeblood
Beer and Finehurt Vodka, Christ, where did they get these brands? He'd never
.
.
.
Inside the bar.
meat and
It
was a smoky room; the smoke smelled
tasted of iron filings
on
his tongue.
One
like
burnt
of those sports bars,
photos on the walls of football players smashing open the other players' helmets with sledgehammers; on the
TV
screen at the end of the bar a
blurry hockey game. (The hockey players are not beating a naked
woman no
bloody with
they're not.)
blood spattering
their sticks,
Men
things (no they're not,
and it's
women just
.
.
.),
of
all
their
inhuman masks,
colors at the bar were dead
and they were smoking something,
not drinking. They had crack pipes in their hands and they were using tiny ornate silver
spoons to scoop something from the furred buckets on
the bar to put in their pipes
and burn; when they
inhaled, their emaci-
ated faces puffed out: aged, sunken, wrinkled, blue-veined, disease-
pocked
faces that filled out, briefly healed,
moments, wrinkles blurring away with each
became healthy hit,
for a
few
eyes clearing, hair dark-
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ash
man and woman
ening as each
applied lighter to the pipe and sucked
gray smoke. (Don't look under the bar.)
Then the smokers instantly atromummies who smoked
phied again, becoming dead, or near-dead, pipes, shriveled until the next
gold teeth and white-painted
He
gown.
hit.
The bartender was
eyelids,
stood polishing a whimpering
"Brotherman you looking for de
Hotel—you take a
hit too.-^
a black
man
with
wearing a sort of gold and black
hotel,
skull
it's
One money,
behind the
on de
give
bar,
and
said,
corner, de Crossroads
me one money and
I
give
you de fine—" "No, no thanks," Ash
with rubbery
said,
lips.
His eyes adjusting so he could see under the
bar, in front of the stools-
there were people under the bar locked into metal braces, writhing in straints: their
heads were clamped up through holes
furry buckets in front of each
crovms of
in the bars
smoker were the tops of
their heads, the
their skulls cut away, brains exposed, gray
clamped heads were facing the bartender wriggled, from time to time.
spoons to scoop
bits
who
fed
The smokers used
and pink; the
them something
their petite,
of quivering brain tissue from the
re-
and the
that
glimmering
living skulls
and
dollop the gelatinous stuff into the bowls of their pipes—^^/>ig the brains
women and men clamped under the bars, taking a hit and filling out Was the man under the bar a copy
of the
with strength and health for a moment.
of the one smoking him? Ash ran before he Just get to the hotel
and
it'll
pass,
it'll
knew
for sure.
pass.
the door and past the shops, a butcher's (those are not skinned
Out
children hanging
on the hooks) and over the sidewalk which he saw now
was imprinted with
fossils, fossils
of faces that looked
like
people push-
ing their faces against glass they pressed out of shape and distorted like putty; impressions in concrete of crushed faces underfoot.
The PA
speakers rattling, echoing. ". .
.
avenue, discounts Past a
doorway of a boarding house-was
bulged outward,
door
and bent over sawhorses, every price and every and bargains, latest in designer footwear ..."
prices slashed
flying
open
wood
this the place?
But the door
going to rubber, then the lock buckling
to erupt people, vomiting
them
and the
onto the sidewalk in a
Keystone Kops heap, but moving only as their limbs flopped with inertia: they were dead, their eyes stamped with hunger and madness, each
one clutching a shopping bag of trash, one of them the Chicano street crazy who'd tried to warn him: gold roses clamped in his teeth, dead now; some of them crushed into shopping carts; two of them, yes, all curled
up and crushed,
Really, Really, Really,
trash
compacted, into a shopping cart so
Weird Stories
their
231
232
John Shirley
Ash flesh
was bursting out through the metal gaps. Flies that spoke with the yammering in little buzzing parodic
voices of radio DJs cycled over them, voices: "This
is
Wild Bob
KMEL
at
and hey did we
per countdown contest, we're buzzing with
A bus at the corner. Maybe get in borhood. But the bus's sides were stopped
at the
bus stop
side
.
one money
an hour
three
sale,
the
well
throw
afraid to
go
street:
and when
curly ends of the stumps.
like
melded
"One money
that
waits.
One money and
and chews,
prices slashed,
A piss-in-the-
and pensioned winos. Crammed
the Casa Valencia had been.
He was
(It's
waved
to
skirts
and bulging, wattled
him with
the squeezed out,
not true that they have no
feet, that their
will
buy you two
we
women whose
tongues can reach
two money—" The whores beckoned; the crowd thickened. He went into the steep,
in-
into the sidewalk.)
deeply into a garbage disposal,
A
it
willing people
the Crossroads Hotel.
whores, with crotch-high
and missing limbs
ankles are
on the
in.
Across the cleavages
fed
a—"
in
sink hotel, the sort filled with junkies
between other buildings
it
street.
window smoke
we'll find the paste that lives
money and
buzzzzzzing wizzzz-zzzz—
ride the hell out of the neigh-
underside crushed and sticky-ochre
its
He paused on the corner. There: in
it,
ya about our su-
striated like a centipede
bodies were expelled to spatter the .
and
doorway was wet,
its
waiting at the bus stop, and from
".
it
tell
also have, for
narrow climb up groaning
stairs to
hotel.
the half door where the
manager waited. The hotel manager was a Hindu, and behind him were three small children with their faces covered in black cloth (the children
do not have three disfigured arms apiece), gabbling in Hindustani. The Hindu manager smiling broadly. Gold teeth. Identical face to the bartender but long straight hair, Hindu accent as he said: "Hello hello, you want a room, we have one vacancy, I am sorry we have no linen now, no, there are no visitors unless you pay five money extra, no visitors, no—" "I understand, I don't care about that stuff," Ash babbled. Still carrying the backpack, he noted, taking stock of himself again. You're okay. Hallucinating but okay. Just get into the
maybe send for a bottle. Then he passed over all whose
the
money
print ran like ink in rainwater,
hall to the
room.
knifed into the old
No number on wooden
ena and goat and man. But
room and work out in his wallet
the stress,
and signed a paper
and the manager led him down the the door. Something crudely pen-
door-panel: a face like an African mask, hy-
momentum
carried
him
into the
Really, Really, Really,
room—the
Weird Stories
John Shirley manager
^j^
didn't even use a key, just
opened it-and closed the door beit was a bare room with a single bed dangling naked bulb and a sink in one corner, no
hind him. Ash turned and saw that
and a window and a
bathroom. Smelling of urine and mold. The There were six people in the room. "Shit!" till
light
was on.
Ash turned
now. "Hey!"
grinning at
him
to the door, wondering where his panic had been opened the door and the manager came back to it,
He
in the hallway. "Hey, there's already people in here-"
"Yes hello yes they
live
with you, you know, they are the wife and
man you
daughter and grandchildren of the
killed
you know-"
"What?"
"The man you
you know, yes—"
killed,
"Whatr "Yes they are in you
He gestured,
now at the
as a
who crowded
people,
from foot into
happy
past
Ash
made
at
oh yes—"
at a revival, ushering in seven
to throng the
to foot, gaping sighdessly,
one another
time he
crossroads and here are more,
church usher
room,
shifting aimlessly
whining to themselves, bumping
random. Blocking Ash, without seeming to
him
for the door. Pushing
more
try,
every
gently but relendessly back to-
ward the window. The manager was no longer speaking in English, nor was he speaking Hindi; his face was no longer a man's, but something resembling that of a hyena and a goat and a man, and he was speaking in an African tongue—Yoruba?—With a sound that was as strange to Ash the cry of an animal priori knowledge,
on
as
the veldt, but he knew, anyway, with a kind of a
what the man was
saying. Saying
.
.
.
That these people were those disenfranchised by the old man's death: the old armored-car guard's death meant that his wife will not be able to
provide the
money to
instead into crime
help her son-in-law start that business and he goes
and then
slide into drugs,
and
result they beat
and abuse
to
lose their
life
in prison,
and
hope and then
their
own
his children, fatherless,
their lives
and
as a direct
children and those children have
children which they beat and abuse (because they, themselves, were
beaten and abused) and they sleepwalking automatons
.
.
.
all
grow up
Who
into psychopaths
and
shoved, now, into this room,
aimless,
made
it
more and more crushingly crowded, murmuring and whining as they elbowed Ash back to the window. There were
and then
forty,
and then
forty-five
and
heat and sullen and dully urgent as frame.
He
Maybe
there
looked over
it
his shoulder,
was escape, out
Really, Really, Really,
fifty,
the
thirty in the little
crowded Ash
Weird Stories
window window glass.
against the
peered through the
there.
room,
crowd humid with body
2^^
John Shirley
234 Ash
But outside the window heap. air
It
was an
and
air shaft,
light for the hotel
places like
this; bottles
shapeless sneakers
windows. Air
and bent
syringes
any airshaft he'd ever seen.
moving
in places,
bottles rattling
stinking
modey
strips
of the
and no way
his shooting.
ones
made was
shafts filled
The
cans. It
was
trash
air shaft
weaving
there.
shifting,
subtly seething,
cans scuttling;
or
killed
into a glutinous tapestry.
itself
But there was no space to breathe now,
to the door; they
The ones
than
thicker, deeper,
was a cauldron of trash,
were
piling in
still, all
the victims of
maimed by the ones abandoned by the How many people now in a room
killed.
danger of being crushed out against the
in
trash, in
and mold-carpeted garbage and
up so
for one, people crawling atop people, piling
One
up with
of tar paper humping up, worming; the wet,
by the one he had
lost
drop four floors to a trash
wet sections of cardboard
and
No, he couldn't go out inside,
straight
and paper sacks and wrappers and wet boxes and
condoms and crimped
brittle
in
was a
it
an enclosed space between buildings to provide
much
killing can't lead to so
that the light
ceiling?
misery, he thought.
Oh, but the gunshot's echoes go on and on, the happy, mocking Ishu said.
On and on,
What
Oh no, you can with
Ash
it,
asked, in his head.
merely, white
with your .
.
Ash
this is the city. Just the city.
see
us,
breath
white devil cocksucker man.
this place?
is
new
Is it
Hell?
family,
where he
called
couldn't bear
it.
The
window, and looked once more
his
dying
into
He
into the air shaft;
recomposed
garbage disposal chum, that chewed and digested
The
you with
here
claustrophobia was of infinite weight.
the trash decomposing and almost cubistically
fell
Now stay
.
turned, again to the
that
Now
Where you have always lived.
demon cocksucker man.
itself
into a great
and everything
it.
press of people
pushed him against the window so that the
glass
creaked.
And
then
thirty
more, from generations hence, came through the
door, and pushed their
way
in.
comers pushed, vaguely and
The window
sullenly,
glass protested.
The new-
toward the window. The glass
cracked—and shrieked once.
Only the
glass shrieked. Ash, though,
was
silent, as
through the shattering glass and out the window, shaft,
and
into the innermost reality of the
he was heaved
down
into the air
city.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Triggering
It
was one of those
protectiplated
Manhattan brovmstones, rewired
in
the 'teens, every square inch evenly coated with a thin, flexible preserv-
The
ing plastic.
old building was a jarring
balmed.
It
was the
sight,
snugged between the
wrapped up and emseemed appropriate, considering the job I'd been sent there
glassy high-rises.
It
distant past
all
neatly
to do. I
went up the
wooden
railing,
slippery hall stairs,
one hand on the
wondering what unprotected wood
even preserved the quaint twentieth-century bright crimson I
on the faded
pressed z-D's doorbell.
walls:
An
graffiti
NUKE SADDAM
plastic-coated
felt like.
They'd
spray-painted in
and CRIPS RULE.
old-fashioned glass peephole.
The
place
no inspection cameras. The door opened—on real was looking dovm at a four-year-old boy. Behind him was
apparently had
hinges—and
I
He pushed it aside. He glanced at my clingsuit, and at the department's suit-and-tie stenciled
the chair he'd been standing on.
sharply fade),
my
the front (the white hankie and the
and chuckled
duskiness,
showed I
on
and
grimly.
were beginning to
He noticed my dark eyes, my short black hair, me as an Americanized East Indian
his recognition of
in his face: a flicker of suspicion. It
stared.
tie clip
They hadn't
told
me what
was a very
the Tangle was.
began here. With the boy. The boy had curly brown
pug nose, and pursed
lips.
He wore
adult's suit, in miniature. In his
adult expression. I
hair,
a formal spiral-leg
mouth was clamped a
had a
feeling
it
big blue eyes, a suit. It
was an
black cigarette
holder containing a Sherman's Real Tobacco burnt nearly to the butt.
Smoke geysered
A midget?
at intervals
But he wasn't.
"You're staring at
from
his nostrils.
He was
a four-year-old boy.
me," he said abruptly,
carefully articulated, accented almost
Really, Really, Really,
his voice high-pitched
but
some
spe-
aristocratically "Is there
Weird Stories
John Shirley
236 Triggering
man who
reason for this intrusive scrutiny, or are you simply a
cific
tices his
penetrating glance
"I'm Ramja,"
I
said,
frowned
nodding
politely "I'm
And your name?"
Transmigratology.
He
on any unsuspecting
at his cigarette,
I
citizen
prac-
he encounters?"
from the Department of
covered
which had gone
my
astonishment well.
out.
"Care for a smoke?"
don't smoke, thanks."
"I
way you say that. But you Federal men are always self-righteous bastards. There was another here, fellow named Hextupper or something. You're the followup. Very orderly. You can go and dance with Dante for all I care, friend. But if you must know—" he gestured me inside and moved to close the door behind me "—my name's Conrad "Self-righteous, the
Frampton. How-do-you-do, salutations, and
etcetera."
"You're overcompensating about being a
little
boy,"
said, returning
I
his hostility.
He
shrugged. "Could be.
If
you were a
forty^-year-old
man trapped in
four-year-old body, you'd feel like overcompensating, too.
leaping out the
couch, and
"When
I
window now and
then. Believe me."
You'd
He
feel like
me
led
a
to a
sat beside him.
did you die?"
I
asked, watching him.
He made me
nervous.
died in 2002," he said, not even blinking. "Care for a drink?"
"I
"No, thanks. You go ahead."
"Damned
He punched I
right
I
will."
looked around. The
promise
done
There was a low yellow table beside the couch.
for a cocktail
on the
room
table's
programmer.
wasn't antique;
after the outside of the building. It
in various shades of pastel yellow, the
cornerlessly into the concave ceiling; the floor
of the same spongy synthetic.
were
it
all
The
seemed
like
a broken
was a standard decorbubble, curved walls blending
was more or
walls, floor, ceiling,
of a piece, shaped by the inhabitants.
less flat
and
but
furniture
The room spoke
to
me
about those inhabitants.
"Who
else lives here?"
I
asked.
The department had
told
me
about the people involved in the Tangle, except the address.
nothing
It's
better
that way.
Conrad took a silvery cigarette case from a table, his smooth movements; he lit a thin Sherman
struggling for
thumbnail
lighter.
"A couple of degenerates
live here,"
he
infant fingers sulkily said,
with a
blowing
smoke rings, "who call themselves my parents. Fawther is a musician. George Marvell, snooty concert guitarist. Plays one of those hideous flesh-guitars. They're both flesh machine fetishists. Mother works at the genvats, helping make more genetic manipulation horrors. She's not so Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley bad,
really,
brown
Triggering
though
nauseates
it
me when
she looks at
me
with her big
widdoo Ahmed again. Her They named me Ahmed, but I make them call me by my
eyes welling, hoping
name's Senya.
turn into her
I'll
name."
real "I
take
it
you don't approve of
machine near
flesh
at
hand.
flesh machines."
He made a something-smells-bad face. know which is worse, the flesh guitar or room. They are
I
sensed there was a
A big one. "Soulless things. Ugly.
I
don't
that living pit they call a bed-
soulless, aren't they? You're
from the Department of
on
Transmigratology. So you're allegedly an expert
What's your
souls.
stand on flesh machines, old boy?"
"Depends on what you mean by soul. For us, a 'soul' is a plasma field composed of tightly interwoven subatomic particles, capable of recording its host's sensory input. And capable of traveling from body to body, evolving psychically so that species survival is more likely. It's not religion.
It's
a function of the
tain mystical techniques to
first
law of thermodynamics, but
work with
it.
Training for seeing
we
we
life
use words
that sort of thing. Karma-buildup release. But
if
karma and
Academy of
we'll lose
soul in our reports to the National
our funding.
ing facts, to get "I
don't
them
use cer-
patterns,
took us decades of regressing people, and
It
to admit
it
was a bona
like
Sciences, trac-
fide science."
know about science. But in my current
circumstances
He
." .
.
made a bitter face. "I'm forced to believe in reincarnation." He looked at me. "Why the hell are you here? Level with me." "We had a report of a rather nasty Tangle here. The lines of spirimal evolution tangled. Sometimes a gross emotional trauma from one faces in the next.
The people
circumstances in the next I
considered
telling
life,
life sur-
involved in the trauma are reborn in close
and the
next, until the things cleared up."
him more. I might have
said
I
came because a Tangle
And they sent me, Ramja, specifically, because I'm part Not sure how yet. But I'm one of the few department staff-
needs a Triggering. of the Tangle. ers
who
can't
remember his
computer model connected But I didn't say
much
last life.
it's
repressed irretrievably.
The
this Tingle.
"As for flesh machines,
that. Instead:
so-called soul they have.
partment
Part of
me with
Or even how much
I
don't
know how
awareness.
The
de-
believes that they're part of the evolution of the lower orders.
Animal minds, animal
souls."
I
shook
my
head. "I'm not sure, Conrad,
what do you remember of your death?"
He
shakily
relit his cigarette. "I
...
I
drovmed. Scuba
diving. Sickening circumstances. Trapped underwater.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
.
.
My
.
uh, scuba-
air
ran out.
237
John Shirley
238 Triggering
my
Big pain in
my
chest. Gigantic buzzing in
ears.
And
a white rush.
Next thing I remember is hearing this sad guitar song. Only it was a flesh guitar; so it sounded like they do— like a guitar crossed with a human voice.
looked around, and there was Senya looming over me, her arms
I
and
outstretched,
And
toddling.
was staggering toward
I
remembered who
self. I
her. It
then the guitar screamed. That's was.
I
.
must have looked
what brought
me
to
like
my-
My real parents are Laura and Marvin
.
Frampton. Were. They died together
in a
nursing-home
fire,
I'm told."
He crossed his small legs and propped an elbow on one knee, his cigapoised
holder
rette
"George would does
We
me adopted. He
room. But then the room
his
he strokes
got up.
is
forefinger.
doesn't like me, and neither
rude to George, too.
It
I
when
shakes
show you the damn thing." followed him to a doorway on the right and
Unpleasantly.
it.
between thumb and
continentally
have
like to
I'll
into the
bedroom.
The room was in pain. The cave-like walls were ing.
room and
Across the
rosy membranes, touched with blue, puls-
all
near the living floor was a blue-black bruise,
swollen and pustulant, a half-meter across. Conrad carefully didn't
look
at
it.
"You're just
the wall there.
He at
Or
turned to
self-defense.
me
I
of
full
hostility,
hitting
me
It
I
can
feel
it
felt
me
It
can
I
sleep! It
been kicking
"If
I
have,
it's
in
feel this thing radiating
wants something from me.
body anyway, and
this thing
makes
it
nagging at me." it
to
make
it
stop. In the
it?"
same
spot. Repeatedly."
Conrad muttered, turning away.
uncomfortable in the room, too.
the walls.
It
room, but
let
this kid's
"What do you know about I
said softly "You've
with something."
won't
I'm half-crazy living in
"And you kicked
I
with a very adult look of outrage.
sleep in the next
even in there.
worse.
it
Conrad."
It
wasn't hostility that
I felt
from
was the shock of recognition.
The moist ceiling was not far over my head, curvingly soft, and damp. wasn't much like a womb. It was more like a boneless head turned
inside out.
The
wall at the narrower end, to
huge unfinished chest.
lucent
The
face.
my
The nose was
left,
contained the oudines of a
there, but flattened,
broad
as
my
eyes were forever closed, milky oblongs locked behind trans-
lids.
The room was panded
to
fill
a genvat creation, a recombinant-DNA organism ex-
an ordinary bedroom. The old bedroom's windows were
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley behind the
Triggering 239
eyes; the light
from the windows shining through them
through lampshades, defining the outsize face's lips
were on the
floor,
puckered toward the
the room's bed, disproportionately wide. the size of a single-bed; they would
opening beneath them, no "It
ately
ceiling.
They were
open out
for two.
The
if
The were
lips
about
soft looking,
There would be no
teeth.
was grown from Senya's ground out
as
capillaries in the lids.
cells,
you know," Conrad
He
said.
on the room's
his still-smoldering cigarette
deliber-
floor.
The
fleshy walls quivered.
box Conrad's
controlled the impulse to
I
ears as
he continued.
"There's a tank of nutrifluid outside the window. Personally,
creamre
disgusting.
is
can hear
I
move when Senya
the lips
The room's odor was through
breathe.
I
can smell
it.
think the
You should
see
on them. Ugh!"
briny, smelling faintly of
nose with a gende
its
it
stretches out
I
Woman.
It
breathed
sigh.
Returning to the main room, Conrad
said, "Sure
you won't have a
drink?"
"This time I
I
wdll
Waves of
My heart was beating quickly and irregularly.
swept through me.
fear
The womb-room had shaken me.
have one, thanks."
stood on a secret brink.
a peak, shuddered, and
let
I
focused on them, brought them to
the fear vaporize in the light of internal
self-
awareness. I
sipped
Conrad,
I
my plastic cup of martini, for the moment relaxing. Sitting beside said,
"You
something about George's guitar being
said
Conrad smirked. "George it
won't sing for him.
as
he plays
ine.
it.
He may
"It's
It
won't.
It'll
its
own
volition?
Maybe
guitar."
it's
scream when Senya plays
trance level deepening.
The
allergic to
I
glimpsed ghostly
flickering paths; the apartment's inhabitants
on on
patterns
the room's electric
field.
him."
it."
outlines of the furniture
to hallucinogenically expand, softly strobing. figures
sick."
be better today. But
screaming again as soon
start
have to go back to playing electric
screaming of
my
it
his guitar will
sounds vicious-the most av^l screams you can imag-
"Possibly. It doesn't I felt
is
know
I
hoping
had
I
life just
human
left their life
In those subtly glowing lines
could see the Triggering foreshadowed. "Conrad," I said carefully, trying not to show any excitement,
about your
seemed
before transition. Give
me
details of the
"tell
death
I
me
itself."
waited, breathless.
Conrad was curl
up
pleased.
as he spoke. "I
He
lit
another cigarette and watched the smoke
was a copy
Really, Really, Really,
editor for a
Weird Stories
book
publisher.
I
was a
John Shirley
240 Triggering
good one, but lot
I
was becoming bored with the work.
of vacation time; so
with him and
I
accepted
his friends.
I
felt
accumulated a
I'd
go on a
Billy Lilac's invitation to
sort of funny about
ing an affair with his wife. But she insisted that
it
it,
because
I
cruise
was
hav-
would be good because
we would remain
casual for the duration of the trip—four days— and that
would cool
Billy's
suspicions about us. Billy was rolling in the Right Stuff.
He owned
a chain of fast-food restaurants."
"His yacht had what he called a mousetrap aquarium built into
boat had a deep
draft,
into
it,
along with
Then
times squid or even a small shark.
"There were thirty years
fish
little
and some-
bottom would
the gates at the
and we would watch
close, temporarily trapping the creatures in there,
them through
The
and by pressing a button, he opened a chamber in
would be sucked
the hull. Water
it.
a glass pane in the deck of the hold.
of us on the cruise. Lana Lilac,
five
younger than
teenaged wife,
Billy's
Billy; his secretary, Lucille
Winchester; Lucille's
son Lancer—"
"Who? Who
did you say?
Conrad looked
at
me
The
last
two?"
My interruption was too eager. bunch of us
said impatiently. ''Anyway, Billy asked a
some octopi
scare reef
into the aquarium.
where they were
There were
"And
and Lancer Winchester," he
strangely. "Lucille
quite
We
go down and
to
were over a certain Jamaican
common. So we went down
in scuba gear.
me and Lana and—"
Lucille.
You
three
went down,"
interrupted.
I
My
head con-
tained a whirlpool. Calm. Perceive objectively. Perceive in the perspective
of time. Evolutionary patterns. The mummified hurt. Tonight
"You three went down," gate
where the
I
I
would
opened, good old
hull
resolve the hurt.
when you approached
repeated, "and
opens the gate and makes the current that
pulls things in,
of you were sucked into the mousetrap aquarium.
behind you, and then he stood
And you
ran out of
in the hold, over
He
and
all
three
closed the gate
your heads, watching.
air."
For a few minutes hadn't been
the
pressed the button that
Billy
I
couldn't talk.
I felt
as
if I
were choking, though
me who'd drowned on that occasion. I'd drovmed my own vomit; drug overdose. Years later.
it
later,
choking to death on Conrad's
But
I
irritation visibly
was only
became astonishment.
peripherally aware of him.
teen-year old Lancer Winchester,
down on and
my
the glass floor, watching as
tears misted the glass, but
I
was seeing
myself, as
hands cuffed behind me,
my mother
somehow
drowned.
fif-
lying face-
My gasping
the blur emphasized their
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Triggering
movements
frantic
as they tried to pry the gate. Their frenzied
Their fingers clawing at the
nals.
While
stood with
Billy Lilac
man mildly amused by a zoo, me,
to
affair
sig-
glass.
his
hands
in his
pocket beside me,
like
a
chuckling occasionally and sweetly chatting
Conrad because Conrad had my mother because she
politely explaining that he'd killed
been having an
hand
with Lana.
And
he'd killed
helped them keep the secret and had permitted Lana and Conrad to use her apartment. kill me. But he simply uncuffed me and put me He knew that my history of emotional disturbance destroyed my credibility. No one would believe me when there were three others testify-
expected him to
I'd
ashore.
ing differently.
He'd bribed
claimed a mechanical Billy
failure
his
two crewpeople handsomely. They
had caused the gate to open prematurely, and
had been on deck and hadn't seen it. They'd been with him the whole and Judy Lormer, husband and wife, were
time. Craig
his crew. Only, after
a while, Judy began to have nightmares about the people drowning in the hold. Judy
came
He
had threatened
me
to
in the
to
go
to the police.
asylum and told
enjoyed talking about
it.
Billy
me
I
knew
in the visitors'
was the
this,
because
Billy
room.
quintessential
son of a
bitch.
drowned Judy in the aquarium in my house. Lancer," he'd said, his voice mild and pleasant. Like a taxidermist talking shop. "You want to explain yourself, friend, hmm?" Conrad said, in the "I
present. I
my own death. after my mother
was thinking about
for the four years
I'd
been
in
and out of institutions
drowned. Treated for paranoid
schizophrenia and drug abuse-the drug abuse, heroin, was
wondered whether I had hallucinated
on on
real-'til I
quiet enjoyment as he stood
the glass, watching the bubbles, forced from exhausted lungs, shatter the pane between his
I
you
feet.
died of an overdose in 2007.
"No in
Lana
coincidences, Conrad,"
your
Lilac
throat.
down
I
little,
and Mother. Strangling under
glass."
to the
paused to clear
I
I
die.
toward the doors,
bedroom. The
twitching, so that
its
first
orifice in the
the drinking."
corners.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
softly.
the front door and then the
womb-room had
blue-pink flesh
my
said distantly, gazing
down on
advice, he gulped another cocktail, swearing
my my eyes
I knew You and
said suddenly "I'm here because
the corridors of time, "you ought to slow
turned
door
last life.
I
I was Lancer Winchester. I watched you
tranced to calmness. "Really, Conrad,"
Ignoring I
Billy's
showed
at the
contracted a
open door's
241
John Shirley
242 Triggering
I felt its
ing.
excitement subliminally, and
Conrad
felt
But only the
too,
it,
and glanced
womb-room and
at
shared
I
its
half-slumbering yearn-
irritated.
it,
were aware that George and Senya
I
Now
Marvell were climbing the plastic-coated steps to the apartment. felt
them stopping on the landing
ger near.
hadn't quite located
I
"Conrad,"
I
plasglass case
wallowed But
I felt
I
the Trig-
it.
in,
toting something behind her.
like a
She
took to be George were carrying a large transparent
I
between them. Within the pink sea animal.
my
could hardly take
I
to quarrel.
began, "Senya is—"
The door opened. Senya came and the man
and
to rest,
A
eyes
case's thick liquids,
flesh guitar.
An
something
expensive one, too.
from Senya. She was
lovely.
I
had a
disquietingly powerful sense of deja vu, taking in her strong, willowy
shape; a
campy Old Glory
worked
flag pattern
flaxen hair flipped onto her right shoulder.
into the thick spill of
Something
in the gauntness
of her face excited me. There was both curiosity and empathy in her expression, out of place with her black, clinging
gown and
"Who
Addams
Family Revival
her transparent spike heels.
the hell
he^" George puffed, looking
is
me
over as they carried
the flesh guitar's case into the bedroom.
"He'd be the
man from
the
George," she replied offhandedly
umm, about The
had them send someone over about,
Conrad."
vu resurged when
deja
"I
Department of Transmigratology,
wasn't familiar.
The
familiarity
I
The tone of
listened to her voice.
was
in the
way she used
George and Senya returned from the bedroom. In contrast
George was stocky and
pallid, his hair
it
it.
to Senya,
permaset into a solid yellow block
over his head. His smoky-blue eyes swept over me, then flicked angrily at
Conrad. "The distillation
from the
kid's
drunk
again."
His voice, when he spoke to me, was a
of condescension: "So you think you can clear the garbage
kid's
"If there is
head here?" any garbage to be cleared in
this
room," Conrad
coming out of your mouth, George." As George bent to punch for a drink, his motions
rupted,
inter-
"it's
tions containing within them, coded,
all
set off reverbera-
the actions of his lifetime.
And
implications of earlier lifetimes. "Acmally, I'm not here to clear anything said, crossing
Senya,
I
Lancer."
my
legs
my
went on,
"In this lifetime
Her
met mine. She was
eyes
from Conrad
in particular,"
I
and leaning back against the couch. Watching name's Ramja; puzzled.
I
in the last
it
was
hadn't hit the Trigger
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley yet.
Triggering 243
smiled at her,
I
me when
a flush of pleasure run through
felt
she
smiled back.
"No, George, I'm here,"
my
continued, trying to keep eagerness from
I
voice, "to deal with a rather
from a
It results
complex transmigrational entanglement.
George,
And
how
karmic equation. I'm not sure
my
sipped
the funny thing
My
do much of anything.
don't really have to
I
pletes the
A memory that
trauma shared by everyone here.
past-life
brought us back together. For Triggering.
"How
drink and asked,
going to
it's
is,
being here comtrigger."
I
did your guitar perform today,
George.''"
George
just
shook
his
head
Senya answered for him.
touched
it."
She looked
at
why anyone would scream "I
close to throwing
me
out.
screamed. As usual! Every time George
George
as
if
she could understand perfecdy
George touched them.
if
rather suspected that,"
He was
me.
at
"It
I
"And
said.
suspect, too, that there's a
I
growing alienation between you and George lately, Senya. Since the day the guitar started screaming— and Conrad appeared in your son."
"What
the bad-credit
tense with
fear.
"The man's
on
He,
right,
do you know about
my coming
George." Conrad put
knows
"The
got nasty.
saw
I
it.
But
guitar's
And
it's
not
may not have more than the brains creep when it senses one. George was
scream came out of
George
It
it.
screaming and
it's
of a
my fault. The but
squirrel,
playing
it,
and
it
this
finally got fed up with the creep."
said suddenly, "If
he jabbed a thumb
He was
then the tension belike
guitar
a
blurted.
grinding his cigarette out
in,
out came close together.
tween you and Senya
damn
George
too, could feel the Triggering coming.
the table, his little-boy fingers trembling.
my, ah,
it?"
you think
there's
some
link
between him-'
Conrad without looking at him "-and what's then maybe you can-I dunno, uh-clear it away so
at
wrong with my guitar,
the guitar works again?"
"Maybe,"
I
A moment
said, smiling. "Let's
later
we
go
into the
bedroom. And-clear
it
away"
were standing around the plasglass case, beside
one end of the womb-room. Senya opened the case and lifted the guitar free as the floor's lips quivered and It was the room's walls twitched. The guitar dried almost immediately.
the bed-sized, up-thrust
lips
at
of human the approximate shape of an acoustic guitar, but composed of the neck The veins. blue showing skin, flesh, covered in pink-white guitar
was
human arm, with the elbow fused so The tendon-like strings were stretched
actually fashioned after a
was always outstretched. from the truncated fingers, which served
that
it
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
as string pegs.
But the
guitar's
John Shirley
244 Triggering small brain kept the strings always in tune.
Where
lower end suggesting a woman's hips.
its
lines
It's
were
soft,
feminine,
would
the sound hole
be on an acoustic guitar was a woman's mouth, permanently wide open, it's
and
lips thin
throat.
Senya held
it
eyes,
no other
in her arms, leaning
on
her right foot propped
an E chord, her fingers brated, and the guitar's
physical suggestions of humanity.
lower end on her
its
the brim of the
at
me, and then
And back
at
me.
guitar case. strings.
knee,
lifted
The
She played strings
vi-
The tone was hauntingly An odd look came over Senya's face.
mouth sang
She glanced up
open
brushing the
lightly
human, melancholy, sympathetic. side.
and
pearly-pink; toothless, but with a small tongue
There were no
at
the note.
Conrad,
who
reeled, drunk, to
one
"Well?" George said.
"You play the
George."
guitar,
the equation are here, in place.
"No, thanks." he
I
said.
You
"Go
play
on.
I
think
all
the integers of
it."
looking at the pink, infant-like guitar in his
said,
wife's arms. I
could
sciously
feel
the lines of karmic influence tightening the room. Uncon-
we'd moved into the symmetrical formation around the
case: myself,
Conrad, Senya, George, and the
over the case, her arms trembling with
its
guitar,
weight.
glass
which Senya held
We
were the
five
points of a pentacle, encircled by the waiting, brooding presence of the
womb-room. "Go on, George,"
said
Conrad, slurring
his
words. "Don't be a simper-
up
ing coward. Play the guitar." Like a defiant midget, he sneered
at
George.
George snorted and took the with a
faint
laxed as the notes
came out
and glanced nervously
on the ceiling walls. The guitar's scream the flesh wall and rippled and from
made me look
normally.
Its strings
contracted
He strummed a chord and reHe strummed again, shrugged,
at the living blue-pink ceiling
and the bruise low
window hidden behind my hands over my ears. The walls
shattered the glass of the
made me
clap
Conrad began
ugly, ripping
sound in fine
crimson
tears.
to laugh hysterically, his voice piping maniacally.
His eyes rolled back, into
George flung the
An
had ruptured. Blood rained on us
eyelids, like
up; the ceiling
guitar struck the
from Senya. it.
somewhere gave a long sigh. Blood ran from the lower
edge of the closed
droplets.
guitar
whine when he touched
his head.
down
guitar
edge of
its
furiously.
case.
It
I
had
to look
howled again
away as the
flesh
something
vital
as
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley within
it
Triggering 245
snapped.
room moaned with
moaning. The
It
rolled onto the floor, facedown,
it.
Panic enlarging his eyes, George looked at each of
He looked as if we'd suddenly become strange to him. He was seeing
us.
us differently now,
his self-assurance
all
said, loudly, staring
I
hard
required a major effort at karmic
"You
him
call
Billy
.
justice, Billy."
Conrad
."
.
gone.
George, "Yours was the sort of crime that
at
said, staring at
George.
now you should be remembering. And wondering, maybe, why a man should be punished for things he did in another life. Was Billy the same man as George, really? "Billy Lilac,"
He
said, smiling at Senya.
I
"By
Remember what he did? That sort of The womb-room remembers, on some level. The
the same man, at the root.
is
crime, Billy ... ah!
remembers. Their brains are
guitar
small, but their
memories
are long.
three people, and, perhaps worse, you chuckled while you
You drowned watched. You destroyed my for the
The "You is
here.
It's
I
waited
The floor's lips snapped open and Senya and Conrad listened raptly, their eyes strange.
my mother,
killed
Lancer Winchester."
to hit the others.
down on
red mist sifted
shut soundlessly.
Me? I was
life.
my words
impact of
full
Billy.
us.
But she's here with
us.
Everyone you
going to be a big shock to the genvat industry
them we've got evidence into flesh machines.
that
It will
human
shake up
when
killed I tell
spirit-plasma fields can incarnate
my
department, too.
My
mother?
She incarnated into the room that surrounds us, Billy. And Lana is here in Senya. The guitar woke up in your arms one day and remembered
The guitar is Judy Lormer. Remember Judy? The crewwoman you drowned when she threatened to talk?"
what you had done. So
I
didn't
with Lana George,
mention the
it
screamed.
fact that
young Lancer had been genuinely in
love
Lilac. a.k.a. Billy Lilac,
wasn't listening.
He
was backing
into a
comer,
making funny little subhuman sounds and swiping at his eyes. Overwhelmed by the sudden remembrance I'd triggered. Realization: who he was and what he'd
done and how
it
had always been a shaping influence on his life. in around us. The room itself was un-
The room's walls were closing
dergoing contractions, squeezing slapping us toward the door.
We
us.
We
felt
waves of
air
pressuring us,
staggered.
Howling, his voice almost lost in the room's keening and the dischording of the dying guitar, Conrad struggled on
He
looked
like
Senya and
I
all
fours after us.
a frightened child.
smmbled out
into the
main room, both of us
panic, shuddering with identity disorientation.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
fighting
John Shirley
246 Triggering Choking,
The
turned and looked through the shrinking entranceway.
I
aperture was irising shut.
I
glimpsed George standing over the guitar
The bleeding flesh guitar yowled at his feet. George swayed toward us as the room got smaller around him, his arms outstretched plaintively, face white, his expression alternating terror and confusion, mouth open case.
in a
scream
lost in the
edges of the
lids
room's
own
clamor. Behind him, the fused lower
over the room's eyes tore free; the
lids
snapped abruptly
brimmed with blood. The room contracted again, and George tripped. He fell against the open plasglass guitar case, facedown over churning liquids. The aperture closed. open.
The
eyes glared, pupils
"Ahmed!" Senya shouted, recovering She was
calling
Conrad by
"Ahmed's trapped!"
name she'd given him. The doorway damp human tissue; it was puck-
the
was blocked by a convex wall of
herself.
tense,
ered into a sort of closed cervix at the middle. But slowly the "cervix" dilated.
The top of a head poked
through. Conrad's head. His eyes were
closed, his face blank.
Gradually the ing.
room
pressed him out.
He was
unconscious but breath-
Senya held him in her arms. His clothing was badly torn and
wet with the room's blood. said nothing, but gazed
withdrawn
up
When
he opened
at her, all trace
to whatever closet of the
his eyes a
minute
slick-
later,
he
of Conrad gone. Conrad had
human
brain
it is
that erstwhile per-
sonalities are kept in.
The womb-room had shrunk
to a bruised, agonized ball of flesh less
than two meters across, clamped
rigidly
died,
mangled by the corners of the big
from
its
own
George,
around the plasglass glass case,
case. It
and inwardly burst
convulsions.
Billy Lilac,
died within
it.
enclosure into the glass case, into
died under glass.
He
He'd been forced by the shrinking
its
glutinous, transparent fluids.
He
died by drowning.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
When Enter Came
There was no contact. inside her. together.
was no
He
had
his
He was hard,
or hard enough anyway, and he was
arms around
The whole
contact.
was sex
skilled dancers. It
David Letterman was
thing was a
for Buzz Garret
in the
ground, but the sound was
and thought of a .
.
line
He
and
But there
his.
minuet performed by
his wife
TV was
The only
still
Elena Garret. on, in the back-
bedroom was
light in their
and shadow. Garret
from a Lou Reed song: Something
ejaculated,
flickered
meant she was
thought:
He heard
for the career thing. She
rock band, then.
One
the faint plastic
it
was
Elena? is all.
It's
me
much
as
She can't blame
as
me
when we met; I was in a made any money. She had the career
in graduate school
that never
momentum. I never asked her to give up her Physics R&D But somehow Garret became a booking agent, Elena became .
quantum
rat-
getting a prescription bottle. Taking a Xanax.
How did we get this way? Is
her. She's a bit more openly nasty sometimes,
wife, set
and
.
Afterward, Elena went to the bathroom. tling that
lifeless
room. The
off.
videolight, shape-shifting in pixel colors
was gone
tongues worked expertly
her, their
She groaned on cue, and thrust her hips to meet
.
.
a house-
physics aside for the glib comfort of astrology and
mysticism; stays up late reading about the occult, never says a
Garret about what she
really believes
.
.
word
to
.
She came back to bed. "Elena?" he asked.
"Hm?" "What do you
really believe?
the universe is—all
"What the thirty in the
up promptly
hell
I
mean, about what we're here
for,
what
the smff you read about."
kind of time
is
this to
ask me. Buzz?
It's
almost one-
morning, Jenny's going to come prancing in here waking us at
seven—"
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
248
When Enter Came "Okay
forget
it."
mean, I'm too
"I
John Shirley
tired to get into—"
"Okay, okay."
No
contact.
Three weeks and no further sex
"Come
off
it.
later.
Buzz, you love booking bands.
world except maybe astronaut, and
that's
It's
the best job in the
quoting you." Elena
He
said.
like
the direction of the conversation; she stared
into the middle distance
and used her weary, patronizing tone. "You're
could
tell
she didn't
kind of young for a midlife
mean,
I
Christ."
way of saying. Don't talk about it, it makes me him that if he insisted on talking about it, there'd be They had a house to pay off, this was no time for a change in
was
It
Thirty-one.
crisis.
all just
her
nervous. Warning
a
fight.
careers.
They were
back yard,
sitting in the
in
lawn chairs by the lawn
table,
which the bones of T-bone steaks soaked grease through paper
The ret:
brick barbecue gave
up a
faint
plates.
ghost of gray smoke. Elena and Gar-
lounging in the soft California sunlight that went
with any Bay Area suburb, with
on
this
like
an accessory
moderately pricey development in
Walnut Creek. Elena was smoking a
cigarette
tachable filter-holders that strains the
smoke
through one of those
at-
you cut back. She
to help
chain-smoked to compensate.
He
was tempted
to point that out. But
He would
snippiness. Pointless wrangling.
cause he was angry
.
.
Around and around
We
it
would
be using
precipitate it
more
against her be-
.
in his head. Thinking,
could take X, maybe,
like
no
contact,
no
real contact.
Barry recommended, the drug
MDMA,
supposed to get you closer to your spouse. But Garret was scared of drugs, after putting in a year in
know
if
ested in him, not
really.
Buzz. She'd never asked,
But
it
NA
to get off cocaine.
And he
he wanted to get closer to Elena. She wasn't particularly
was short
She didn't even
didn't inter-
know why he was nicknamed
and probably thought
for Buzzard. Because Garret
it
was
had been
like
in
Buzz Aldrin.
one of the
first
West Coast punk bands.
He blue
looked around split level
scenities
He and
at his big yard, his
house, and thought.
under a mohawk, to
How
did
I
get
from shrieking ob-
this?
loved the house, in his way.
his kids.
barbecue, his two-story pastel-
It
was
like
Being punk, by contrast, was
one big baby
like
crib for
being a flagpole
Really, Really, Really,
him
sitter. It
Weird Stories
When Enter Came
John Shirley had a limited appeal.
had contact, of
He
It
was not a career move. But
it'd
had one
could never go back to
it,
of course. But
other kind of deep contact to be had
.
.
maybe
there
They had the prop swords, bought
ing She-Ra, which irritated Elena, identity.
"Oh He-Man,"
"you're so strong, only
made
at Toys-R-Us.
I'll
four year old Louis was saying in a fluting voice,
you can stop
Skeletor!"
turning up the house
like
lights.
voice, said, "Don't
an actor on a stage startled by the manager
Looking around. Distracted.
There was a rumble you couldn't felt
low
help you!"
Louis stopped playing,
Garret
He-Man and Louis was be-
her worry about the boy's sexual
Garret's seven year old daughter, in her best
worry, She-Ra!
was some
.
Louis and Birdy were over by the rose bushes playing She-Ra.
thing. It
sorts.
hear. Elena frowned.
a kind of indefinable dread, coming out of the very bottom
of his gut in slow, diffuse waves of anxiety. Resonating with the unheard
rumble
in the
A subsonic
air.
Garret said, "You feel
whack or
.
.
.
.
shiver.
anything? Kind of like something's out of
The rumble,
and pursed her
herself,
through her teeth.
Looking
at
her
lips,
and
said,
and then gone.
and look around. Then Louis shrugged, and
shiver,
raised his She-Ra sword.
"No." Lying
workroom window.
again. Felt but not heard. Rising again
Garret saw Louis
And
.
r
Elena hugged
in his
.
"HeMan—Skeletor's
coming!"
Garret thought, for no reason in particular. Contact.
mind
"Skeletor
twice, in the voice of is
some mental phone
here!" Louis said. "But so
is
It
sounded
operator. Contact.
She-Ra and He-Man!"
you write poetry when you're a teenager, you probably write bad poetry. Especially if you were young in the late 70s, early 80s, with all the dour, gothic rock people around, and you were sensitive, a bit alienated,
If
fairly
smart. In that case,
Poetry dressed
around
its
eyes
all
you wrote poetry
in black, poetry with
and maybe a tattoo meaningless.
little
that
matched your
silver skull earrings
that said
BORN TO
clothes.
and kohl
DIE.
The day before Enter came. Garret
But bad poetry isn't was going through a box of press clippings in his office, looking for a nasty review of one of his own early bands-he was going to show it to one of the bands he was booking. On top of a thin book of clippings. Garret found one of the high school notebooks he'd filled with bad poetry.
Found himself reading some
Really, Really, Really,
stuff
he wrote one night
Weird Stories
after his par-
249
250
When Enter Came
John Shirley
came home drunk—they always came home drunk, and usually left home drunk. Drunk and snarling at one another. He was the child of alcoholics. The poetry, in consequence, could ents
have been cited in a psychological casebook, with lines
like:
Loneliness comes in concentric circles
Dante's Hell
Like the
circles in
And the
innermost
circle is the
Pretty heavy-handed stuff,
rang true, somehow.
later, it
lot
of girlfriends;
still
had a
was when he was a young
hardest to
see.
he thought. Garish. But now,
He was lot
fifteen years
married, had two kids, once had a
And he
of friends.
wasn't as lonely as
But he was
misfit teenager, no.
still
it
a circle
away from knowing anyone. She came to Garret when he was trying not to masturbate. ing late in his office, upstairs in their house.
He
PC he never machine on the
transparent plastic desk, next to the in
one hand from the espresso
had
He was work-
his feet
up on the
used, a cup of espresso file
cabinet, a
machine
He was making phone calls that simply more calls. He was trying to get the TinTones on the same bill with Wind Window, despite the irritating sound of the dual wordplay names, and at the same time fighting the randiness that had plagued him all week. He was tempted to slip into the upstairs baththat he did use a great deal.
seemed
to breed
room run through one of his repertoire of sexual fantasies, discharge some of the sexual tension. Then get back to work. But he knew it was a way to avoid sex with Elena. Sex they were overdue for. Something she was
getting bitter
and
randiness in for her It
was
.
.
sarcastic about.
So he was trying to hold the
.
happened when he was absentmindedly changing a talking to Chalky, the Brit
telling
him,
"I just
talked to
Bill
who was Graham
light bulb.
Presents,
and
if
concession on the band's paycheck— Hey, Chalky, man,
you can make a
this gig is
portant showcase for the Bay Area because the programmers will there, especially the guys
from
KROQ
with a distant, almost unfelt rumble.
He
the manager of the TinTones,
and
And
KNET— " The
walls
an imall
be
hummed
then, phht, the overhead light
burnt out, leaving Garret in a darkness broken up by streedight glow
coming blue-white through the blue
curtains. It
was
like
suddenly being
put into photonegative. But he kept talking to Chalky on the speaker-
phone
as
he got a bulb out of a desk drawer, stood on a
chair, tilted the
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
unscrewed the dead bulb. Telling Chalky, "You do do one for you—"
fixture aside,
me,
for
And
pal,
When Enter Came one
this
I'll
then a thick, shining, violet fluid dripped out of the empty
light
socket.
Pop.
from
The sound of
his fingers as
The glowing As Chalky
he
on about something, "The
to please than just
my dear,
filmy ribbon of purple
socket, swirling
wasn't smoke. lighting the
and
and dripping,
It
.
in twisty
trouble
got
luv, I've
is,
dear mate Buzz Garret. There's
.
violet
fluid but
plasma was issuing from the gaseous too;
crackled softly and flexed
room
floor. Slipped
."
the promoter, the record companies
A
on the
stared.
dripped in slow motion.
fluid
rattled
more people
the dead light bulb breaking
itself like
like
an
smoke, but
it
Unevenly
idea.
neon
Garret said, numbly, "Chalky,
call
you back." Hit the hang-up button.
Stared at the socket.
Some
kind of electromagnetic peculiarity?
sort of thing?
A hallucination? Was he
Some
swamp
kind of
The ribbon thickened and turned in the air, and took shape torqued, like a figure emerging on a slow lathe. The shape .
He
thought of certain paintings by Georgia O'Keefe.
Judy Chicago.
He
The shape was
gas
that stressed out?
.
as
it
.
And
others by
thought of women. mercurial and
full
of promise.
It
reached octopally
to-
ward him—
He fell off the chair, light
bulb
onto
glass, cutting the heel
hardly noticed any of
growing, getting
big.
nude Mindy Gretch, nineteen year old
this.
One hand went into
his ass.
a patch of broken
of his thumb. His butt hurt from the
He couldn't take his eyes off the shine,
fall.
He
the shape
Big as A/[indy Gretch. Mindy, the ebullient expanse of his first sexual
parmer. She was a two hundred
glitter rocker, into
Bowie and
Alice
and the
pound
Dolls. Davie
was mesmerized by the Niagran fullness of her breasts. Mindy put on a chiUing tough-rocker-chick act, and though the young David Garret identified with her outsider status, he was kind of unnerved when she Garret, at sixteen,
asked him to get
come
over to sneak
some of her
parents' vodka.
drunk and kick him around or something. But
basement she was tender and tentative
She was here, now. Standing
was smaller than the
other;
other enormous. She was six inches
Really, Really, Really,
.
.
one of her
she'd
that night in her parents'
Where was
there, nude,
listing to
too short. Then
.
Maybe
she
in his office.
now?
One
breasts the size of
of her eyes
an apple, the
the side because one of her legs
was
the shape adjusted for parity, like a parade
Weird Stories
251
252
When Enter Came
John Shirley
balloon inflating, and she was symmetrical.
soms
equalized.
Her
and
legs
and bo-
The Venus of Willendorf with Mindy's face. flesh. Her pink skin had
a violet
eyes
She was not quite there in the underglow, and there was a
faint
purple light in the very middle of her,
new bulb he held in his right hand. The for no damn good reason at all, was lit up in
shining like the filament in the bulb, with his
no power
source,
hand. Glowing.
"Mindy?" She'd died, and this was her ghost.
It
was the only thing he could
think of.
He
ought to be scared. Instead he was disoriented and—
And
drunk.
It
came over him
had grain alcohol through him. The
Unseen
room
a wave of drunkenness, as
like
A
intravenously.
rubberiness,
rippling with
that passed through everything
that purple
glow
it
if
he'd
a pliancy, rippling
too; a rumbling
around them.
wave of The
emanated from
It
at the center of her.
The drunkenness that was more than drunkenness kept him from when she closed in around him. Pop. The other light bulb hitting the floor, as Mindy clamped home around him like the jaws of a gende bear-trap. A great soft pink and vioscreaming
let trap.
He was
surrounded by Mindys. Six of them,
how, seamlessly joined
Mndys
at the hips
and
rolls
all
of
interconnected someher middle; six
fat at
facing inward, a circular accordion of Mindys, pressing against
him, naked and reeking deliriously of flesh and female lubrication,
enormous Adindy
pairs of
breasts
.
.
six
.
His hard-on hurt him.
The drunkenness cid or
numb
him inhumanly
left
or tired the
She peeled
way booze
his clothes
loose, but didn't leave
did. This
from him.
He
Should
Mindy
I
in.
Would
rationality left to
she even be able
be screaming? he wondered, as he squirmed close to
apparition,
felt
her embrace
flac-
was being drunk on Mindy.
had enough
wonder what Elena would think if she came to see it? If Elena saw it would she scream?
him
on every
part of him,
all
this
'round.
Closing in on him so he could barely breathe. Succulently warm.
Embraced by her
at
360 degrees of the compass, the
Mindys around him, blended together six faces, six pairs
at their hips
six interlocked
and arms and
of breasts, six vaginas: six two hundred
legs;
pound women
symmetrically arrayed like fleshy petals, like the inner parts of a Claes
Oldenberg flower, and
for a
moment he had
a hideous, frightening
Really, Really, Really,
vi-
Weird Stories
John Shirley
When Enter Came
sion of himself sucked into a venus flytrap
woman, sucked down
into
some
made
of this all-encompassing
sickening tube and slowly devoured
.
.
But then she reached down, under her hugely pliable belly, and two of her hands guided his cock into one of her vaginas. Smoking with sensation as he entered her. Drunk with euphoria, a wallowing in woman .
.
.
Contact. Hello.
His erect cock was a phoneline to All lines are open, she said. Call
and the phoneline was open. our 800 number her,
.
"What?" he asked. In a gasp; pumping into at the
.
.
her. Into the purple shine
mysterious heart of her.
Contact, she said,
"Who
...
oh
You wanted contact. ."
Christ
.
.
Feeling like he could go
Standing here, making love to her.
To
on doing this
forever.
Hands exploring
of her.
six
all
other orifices as his direct line to her jacked into the vagina directly in front of him. ... Six tongues,
"Who? Are
.
didn't exactly think
of them, but tive
at him.
.
You're asking, about
Identity.
from one woman, lapping
all
."
it
was
my
identity.
it,
and she
at
him. She formed concepts and he became aware
as
if
they were occurring to him with a kind of cogni-
synchronicity he shared with her
She answered
She didn't say
it
his question,
.
.
.
though he didn't know
it
for a while.
She
shifted. Closer, she said.
woman stretched like an image on silly putty, for one second;
Picture a
picture a strangely iridescent taffy in a transparent taffy-pulling machine, for about
two seconds. Then the
translucent matrix of
a shape in the
light takes
vaguely reminiscent of a
becoming
less
over you
.
.
This time
human
taffy loses
its
palpability,
becomes a
for another incandescent second; then the
light,
air like
an
iris,
a six petaled
iris,
each petal
woman, some undefined woman. The woman
but more palpable, more physical, as she flows
.
it
was an
effort not to scream.
But he was afraid that
screamed, he'd disrupt the rapport, break some
fragile
if
he
balance between
them, and he wanted desperately for what was happening to go on. The contact was an unspeakable
relief.
So he didn't scream when she enfolded him like a cocoon. His eyes were open, when the cocoon closed completely
and what he saw was something but
made
out of the faces of
like
the patterns in peacock feathers,
women, women
he'd never known, overiapping, sliding one
knowledge and. perception; a depth of Really, Really, Really,
over him,
Weird Stories
he'd
knovm and women
into another. Faces lined in
feeling he'd only
glimpsed be-
253
254
When Enter Came He
fore.
John Shirley
thought of making love to
radio tower, and
it
them—his
sucking, nibbling, kissing; an organ that
drew
was
erection
was transmitting—and the women's
his erection into
it.
as rigid as a
blossomed,
lips
was both a mouth and a vagina
His hands skied the curves of waists, the
full-
ness of hips and thighs, the roundness of arms; every epidermal inch of
him coming
into contact with her: with them.
over collarbone, the exquisite slithering chain of
damp
labia
silk
drawn past
padded room of buttocks and
breasts
and
down
his shoulder,
A bouquet
his torso;
glittering
a
pano-
of mouths sweeping
was wet but nothing was uncomfortably
past his genitals. Everything
was redolent of
tautness of skin
embracing him; a
ply of eyes looking piercingly into his.
sticky;
With the
stretched under a jawbone, a sweetly
sweat and lubricant, and
flesh,
effluents melted together into a symmetrical
all
those scents
harmony
in
keeping
with the kaleidoscoping visuals of her. She was an endlessly reproduced variant
on
pattern, like the ornate embellishments of the
ace decor, but none of
none of lated
it
it
was simple decoration;
was fragmentary;
it
was
all
it
Sun King's
pal-
was expression. And
of a piece, symphonically articu-
by a guiding mind.
She was around him
body the penetrating orhim was charged with radiant intelli-
like a great vagina, his
gan, but the organ that enclosed
gence, and was at the same time the electric piquancy of
moved
all
He
sexuality.
pumping through her. When he thrust out his tongue, a tongue arose to meet it. When he squirmed away from one vagina and thrust his cock in another direction, another opened to receive him. Breasts filled the hollows of his body. peristaltically
He swam yet she
between them.
He
could breathe, he could
move
freely,
light
and
to escape
flesh
and
phone was
at the
same time yearned
to stay within her.
began to intermix.
Light and flesh were one,
was
all
around him (somewhere, the
ringing, ludicrously ringing again
and
again,
scam on him),
the waves of
some
office
answered by the an-
swering machine. Chalky yammering after the beep, wanting to try stupid
and
was everywhere.
He writhed And
within her, his entire body
sliding against him, interpenetrating his
own
some on
skin
exotic electromagnetic field, stimulating each of his nerve
ends so that he was sweedy feeling everything, not with sensory overload but with sensory renewal. His erogenous zones beaming
The boundaries began clearly
where
his
whistled through
own
to dissolve.
flesh
He was no
from
longer able to sense
ended and hers began.
him—and then was absorbed
tion of reassurance
like klieg lights.
A
shattering panic
into a long slow undula-
her.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley You
When Enter Came
not be destroyed in me.
will
He believed her. He let go. Felt himself turn head over heels. Saw himself
from the outside
And
.
.
.
she shifted again. She was a specific someone, now. She was Jane
Wasserstein.
When was
it?
had jumped a grade. Jane, the she'd broken down and .
And
put out.
barbarically sexist
girl
was
eighteen, she
was seventeen,
he'd dated for five
months before
.
of expression was that, "put out?"
It was both and touchingly resonant of an adolescent boy's wist-
Put out: put
fulness.
.
What kind
He
1975?
to the outside. Give, in a
it
way
that
makes
insiders
of outsiders.
Here she was. Jane. girl
with asthma,
blinked rather often, as
more frames per second than everyone
ing in
premonition of the underglow in
David you Jane,'" she'd
to
go to the
on
said,
before he would have said
me
her quick
else.
we
He
He'd make a pass and she'd
snort,
The undefined woman had
Eyes
mind was don't say
'Me
second
"You going
to ask
going to work up to that?" She was
he was playing chess with
felt like
"Oh
Garret and Black Glass Productions.
cocoon which had become Jane, Jane all
listen to
now,
shifted,
somehow
said,
tak-
a blue-violet
like
their first date, a breathless half
Second date she'd
it.
drive-in or are
in a circle, but
if
this creature's skin. "Just
always a step ahead of him.
formed
A half-Jewish
Slender, curly blond, sylphlike Jane.
who
in 1989, in the office of
Mindy had become all
her.
him!"
Buzz
the shifting
'round him, Siamese sextuplets
variations of one,
and not a con-
fined joining of many.
He knew
Something she'd
David you
school.
big
money
ding
body
me
at
with
it
No, he
re
her was
stiff
like
as
or Jane. But drove himself into
if
triggered by a
when
mnemonic answering ma-
they were both seniors in high
misfit,
and
you'll probably
make
Cooper or Frank Zappa. But you re not kidall you really want is for every-
Rimbaud of rock act, which
is all
told her, that's not
in '89, his
becoming
as
a professional
how I am. I want
Now,
Mindy
contact. Hello again.
said to him,
like Alice
this
to love you,
matter
made
coming on
Jane's voice, chine.
wasn't
this creature
the nearest Jane, and
that
every Joe all.
I
much
Normal
want them
wants, too
to love
me
.
as
.
I
.
am.
No
acceptance.
tongue brushing Jane's small, hard breasts, her nipples little
.22 bullets, the electric contact of his
a switch triggering
more
astrally
tongue on
recorded memories.
Buzzard Garret, punk romantic. Jane's words, riding on a sneer, as she broke up with him in their freshman year at UCB. Two weeks beReally, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
255
256
When Entter Came
John Shirley
You always had a feel, David, for what women wanted to hear. They invariably thought it was endearing, too, that you were a punk romantic who could leave silverspray-painted roses on a doorstep, quote morbidly romantic stuff from Verlaine in a letter, talk about psychic union in lovemaking, and still go out on stage and tell the world you hated it. That made you a tragic figure of romance, rights So why'd you do it, Buzzf Just to get laid? That was never enough. You insisted they had to fall in love with you. When I gave up the nookie, it wasn't enough. You had to make me say I loved you. You fucking pig. fore he
dropped out
to focus
on
rock.
He saw
She'd gone right to the heart of him.
himself, through this
He needed them to be in love with him. He needed them to believe he was in love with them. But he couldn't be, not really. He could say all the right things and make the right moves. Contact, as she had seen him:
Could
give
them a good semblance of sexual passion. Surprise them call them funny pet names. Could even marry
with romantic gestures,
them. But he could never
them under was
safe
And
really,
honestly love them. This way, he had
thumb. This way he controlled them, and
his
this
way he
from abandonment.
all
the time he thought these things, he kept plunging into Jane.
Who
was not Jane anymore. She was Sandy. Pleasantly plump, busty, spray of freckles across her cleavage. The same exact pattern of freckles
reproduced on Because
six linked manifestations
if you don't want
ous about living life. You're
to
full
of Sandy
all
have a baby, Sandy'd
around him.
said,
you're not seri-
of yourself and you'll never live that way.
She'd wanted kids, and he hadn't, and they'd broken up over that he'd dated
he'd
it.
After
women a week for three years, and then
sometimes three
met Elena while he was booking a
college
where she was working in
the student affairs office, he was blown away by the crystalline vastness
of her love.
intellect,
the subdety and intensity, alternating,
Her odd combination of
Tao of Physics
ruling their
spiritual
lives.
when
she
made
emphasis and hard science. The
She'd got pregnant and informed him
she didn't believe in abortions.
So okay, babies and marriage. Their conjugal lovemaking was good up to a point
ever
till
now that
more than Withdrawing more and more
she realized he was holding back, holding back
he
felt
as the resentment in
trapped by marriage.
him
quietly grew. Elena sensing
it
and withdrawing
to protect herself.
Communication between them became casm and acrimony. They were caught up
businesslike or brittle with sarin the vicious circles
Really, Really, Really,
of quietly
Weird Stories
John Shirley
When Enter Came
angry marriage, endless reflections in a
were funhouse warped
And
.
.
hall
of mirrors-mirrors that
.
suddenly, now, standing
up
in his office,
he found himself making
love to his wife. Six of her, at
first.
Then, the
Elenas collapsed into one
six
woman.
Like a string of paper dolls folding up into one.
He
was making
love to an Elena with a violet
underglow to her
trans-
lucent skin, and a purple orb shining at the center of her.
He wanted
to run. But then he looked into her face,
and saw none of
the sophisticated hostility that Elena normally kept there like a falcon in
a cage.
He
saw only the
basic Elena, perceptive, vulnerable, curious, pri-
and more emotionally complex than he'd ever guessed. The impulse to run faded. He sank into her, more deeply
vate
yet. His hollow of her back, her buttocks, finding them
fingers tracing the entirely
new; and finding that
hands were dipping into her
his
shallowly sliding through her skin as
charged
And
He
if it
were a
skin,
fur of electrically
flesh.
then he struck gold.
drove deeper into her vagina, and the electrode of his organ
contact with the electrical receiver of hers, receptivity.
some
inner
made
node of sheer
Contact.
Hello.
"You're not Elena," he said, ludicrously trying to identify her even as he feverishly
pumped
into her.
This time she spoke aloud. "Yes and no. Call
I'm trapped in
this otherness,
me Enter. I need your help. my husbandside. I'm
trying to get to
trapped—" All the time both of them copulating deliriously, joyously, as she
gasped into
"What
his ear:
"Need your help
getting through to the free level."
are you?"
"A consciousness; a body of different principles but
woman.
A connection to women,
"Where do you come from?" "An otherness. Not this world; not with roots in
"How
can
similar essence.
A
from your viev^oint." this plane;
not
this universe.
But
it."
I
help?"
"Don't come."
"What?" "You're about to have an orgasm.
The
panies the reproductive discharge will
David. Don't orgasm. Wait. Timing
Really, Really, Really,
is
electrical discharge that
come too
crucial."
Weird Stories
accom-
soon. Don't come,
257
258
When Enter Came He saw gasm
it
rolling
He
John Shirley
a tidal wave
like
withdrew from
her, just in time.
on
faded, stayed aching just
He
acted
on
intuition, or
him through the through her, as
if
ting,
.
.
him
He
stepped
and
there.
But she was
still
here,
on the
floor. Skin
lubricant.
a radio antenna.
his office, his erection
Opened
The room
she kept for her hobbies.
got there.
No
one near
was almost a
to complete the favor.
standing nude in his office. Clothes heaped
like
orgasm slowed,
.
plasmic. Feeling a shock that
with sparks under his touch. Walked
He
build of
he went. Coming out on the other side know-
as
walked to the door of
still,
or-
perhaps following some instruction she gave
he looked back, she wouldn't be
slippery with sweat
He
An
she were a door. Walked through Elena; through Enter,
unseeably, waiting for
He was
The
connections they'd explored.
secret
burn sear through him if
mind's eye.
his
the brink of his groin
who became amorphous and ing that
on the horizon of
toward him with the inexorability of a force of nature.
to
open
the door, the
down
wagging, transmit-
doorknob crackling
the hall to Elena's studio.
The door opened
for him, before
he
it.
stepped through. Saw Elena lying back on the rug, naked, her
clothes sweat.
heaped
Her
untidily
Between Garret and
his wife
cate design of copper
made
about
her.
She was panting, glistening with
legs apart.
and
was a low metal
silvery metal,
some
table.
On it was
sort of occult
an
intri-
ideogram
of metals, wired to the electrical socket overhead. Shimmering
with violet glow.
With some strange combination of quantum physics and ancient female witchcraft, his wife had invoked Enter, drawn her from another
And drawn someone else too. The husbandside. The male one. The one
world, channeled her through this one.
He
could
feel his
presence.
Enter was trying to rejoin. He'd been here, making love to his wife, even as Enter
had been making love
to Garret.
Like Enter, he was gone now, from the visible world; but he was here.
The wave of
intuition that
had brought Garret
room
to this
filled in
Found herself Blocked. Neither of them could
the blanks for him: Elena had been desperate for contact.
unable to break through to him
directly.
bear the humiliation of a marriage counselor. So Elena had tried something exotic and indirect, a quirky synthesis of physics and ancient
magic, never expecting
it
to work.
Some
personal
ritual,
performed for
psychological reasons, which had translated into objective
Really, Really, Really,
reality.
Weird Stories
When Enter Came
John Shirley Don't question
He went to
it,
Garret thought.
Elena, lay
down
beside her.
The
true Elena.
He lay beside
her and then with her, entering her very soon after the embrace began. Feeling the
first
orgasm buck through him. Breaking down the
between worlds. Enter passing through her part passing through Garret to her. Enter joining
and passing on, freed now,
to him; Enter's
barrier
male counter-
and Husbandside meeting and
into their
own
world. Having
left
Elena and Garret transformed behind them.
had
Garret
a
glimpse
of
something,
Husbandside passed on. That Enter and her
Enter
before
just
lover
were one
and
creature,
with two aspects; two sides of one coin, meeting here where dimensions intersected.
And
they
had
connections,
interfacings
consciousnesses—with Garret's, and Elena's. With Garret
And
made
all
love to his wife several times that night.
each time-
Contact.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
with
others.
other
259
Skeeter Junkie
It
struck him, then,
and powerfully.
How consummate, how exquisite: A
mosquito.
Look at
the thing.
No fraction of it wasted or distracted; more stream-
lined than any fighter
any sports model.
more elegant, for Hector Ansia's taste, than moment, sexier—and skinnier—than any fashion
jet,
car; in that
A mosquito.
Hector was happily watching the mosquito penetrate the skin of
his
right arm.
He
was
in his El
Fruit of the
The
place
Loom
Paso studio apartment, wearing only his threadbare briefs
because the autumn night was hot and
was empty except for a few books and busted coffee
sofa, the only things
he hadn't been able to
sell.
sticky.
table
and
But as soon as he'd
slammed the heroin, the rat-hole apartment had transformed into a palace bedroom, his dirty sofa into new silk cushions, the heavy, polluted air became the zephyrs of Eden, laced with incense. It wasn't that he hallucinated things that weren't there; but what was there had recast into a heroin-polished dimension of excellence. As he'd taken his shot, he'd looked out the windows
at the refineries that
studded the periphery of
El Paso, through the lens of heroin transformed into Disney casdes, their
burn-off flames the torches of
He'd ter,
just risen
some charming medieval
out of his nod,
like
festival.
a balloon released under heavy wa-
ascending from a zone of sweet weight to a place of sweet buoyancy,
and he'd only now opened length of his
arm over
his eyes,
and the
first
thing he
the side of the old velvet sofa.
saw was the
The
were
veins
distended because of the pressure on the underside of his arm, and
way between
his
elbow and
his
hand was the mosquito, pushing
ganic needle through the greasy raiment of his epidermis It
was so
.
.
half-
its
or-
.
fine.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Skeeter Junkie
He hoped the mosquito in him.
and
The
could
feel the
sun of benevolence that pulsed
china white was good, especially because he'd had a long
cruel sickness before finding
it,
and he'd been maybe halfway to
clean again, so his tolerance was down, and that to hit the
smack
fold
in, to
and she was washing
it
so
much
better
into himself.
it
Mama's hands on him. He was
Stoned, he could feel his old,
made
his
back
as
he
sat in a
times she would kiss the top of his head.
He
warm
could
three years
bath,
feel
it
and some-
now. That's
what heroin gave him back. She hadn't touched him
had come
friend
kicked
Mama
something he cried
.
in
.
head and
in the
and
Just looked at
called her a
that skeeter, now.
The mosquito was thing
in.
He
.
.
feel a
boy-
looked
his fourth birthday.
Made Hector want
it
was
at
him blank when
.
fucking his arm, wasn't
A proboscis, what
could
new
whore, and the kick broke
after that she just
him
Heroin took him back, before
way back. Look at
her
fucked up on reds and wine, and the boyfriend had
in her brain,
.
when
after his fourth birthday,
it?
Sometimes
to fuck, looking at
Sure
it
the
it.
was. Working that
called.
thudding from somewhere. After a long
was sure the thudding wasn't
all
his pulse;
it
moment he
was the radio dovmstairs. Lulu,
listening to the radio.
Lulu had red-blond old Beades movies, lips.
hair, cut like in
its
the style of English
girls
from the
points near her cheeks curled to aim at her
She had wide hips and round arms and hazel
eyes.
full
He'd talked
to
her in the hall and she'd been kind of pityingly friendly, enough to pass the time for
come
maybe
a minute, but she wouldn't go out with him, or even
Because she knew he was a junkie. Everyone on
in for coffee.
Selby Avenue
knew
a junkie
his Liberal Arts B.A., her.
No use trying to
but
they saw one.
SSI
He
wouldn't matter: he'd
explain, a degree didn't get
might as well draw your
be a
it
when
and
sell
could
still
be
you a
tell
just
life
her about
a junkie to
anymore, you
your food stamps; you might as well
junkie.
Lulu probably figured
money, and maybe
if
she got involved with Hector, he'd steal her
give her AIDS.
She was wrong about the AIDS-he
never ever shared needles-but she was right he'd steal her money, of course. The only reason he hadn't broken into her place was because he
knew
she'd never leave any cash there, or anything valuable, not living
downstairs from a junkie. He'd never get even a ten dollar bag out of that crappy little radio he'd seen through the open door. Nothing much
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
261
John Shirley
262 Skeeter Junkie in there. Posters of Chagall, a
flowing clay pots shaped
like
framed photo of
burros and turdes.
She was succulent; he wanted her almost
He watched If
he
as
much
as her paycheck.
the mosquito.
lifted his
He
not.
Sting, succulents over-
could
arm
up,
would the mosquito stop
He hoped
drinking.^
a faint ghost of a pinch, a sensation he saw in his
feel
mind's eye as a rose bud opening, and opening, and opening, more than
any rose ever had Careful.
petals.
He swomg his
mosquito didn't
stir.
inch, so as not to
feet
Then he
on the lifted
floor,
the
arm
dismrb the mosquito.
With excruciating
without moving his arm. The
It
up, very, very slowly, inch by
kept right on drinking.
languor. Hector stood
up
straight,
motionless except for the slow, slow act of standing.
because the dope
carefully,
went
clopedia
The
He was
set.
on
lettering
pretty loaded.
no one had bought
the book-backs oozed one It
was good
smff.
just as slowly, his right
the sofa.
hand
left
He
it,
word onto
stiff,
his precious
.
the next.
He
so as not to disturb
guest—he returned to
riffling pages. .
.
.
(There was another shot ready on the coffee
.
now.
He sat dov^mi, his right arm propped on the arm of the sofa, his
Mosquito
Make
shelf to
of the old ency-
forced his eyes to focus, and
arm ramrod
beloved—the communion pinch,
his
hand onto the edge of a
his left over the dusty tops
M book out.
then pulled the
Moving
glad
Then—walking very
the floor feel like a trampoline—he
to the bookshelf. Easing his right
keep the arm steady, he ran
was
made
keeping the arm
table.
Not
yet,
pendajo.
it last).
.the female mosquito punctures the skin with equipment contained
in a proboscis,
comprised of six elongated
stylets.
One
verted trough— the rest are slender mandibles, maxillae,
stylet is
and a
tube. After insertion, the tube arches so that the tip
and saw through
make a
can probe for
blood about half a millimeter beneath the epidermal surface the stylets are serrated
in-
stylet for
the injection of mosquito saliva. These latter close the trough to
rough
an
.
.
.
Two of
the tissue for the others. If a
pool of blood forms in a pocket of laceration the mosquito ceases move-
ment and sucks Mosquito
the blood with
two pumps located
saliva injected while
creates the itching
in her
head
.
.
.
probing prevents blood clotting and
and swelling accompanying a
Hector soaked up a pool of words;
here, a
bite
.
.
.
puddle there, and the color
pictures— how wonderfully they put together encyclopedias!— and then
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley he
let
Skeeter Junkie
the volume slide off his lap onto the floor, and found the other
syringe with his left hand, and, hardly having to look, with the ambidex-
of a needle freak, shot himself up in a vein he was saving in his
terity
right thigh. All the time not disturbing the mosquito.
He knew it was
too big a load. But he'd had that long, long Jones,
mirrors reflecting into one another.
out on the sofa again as the
hit
It
should be
all right.
He
like
stretched
melted through him, and focused on the
mosquito. Hector's eyelids
Making
lars.
ing
slid
almost shut. But that worked
come
the mosquito
was
standing by an
this variety.
watching
oil derrick,
the zone of sweet weight
From
.
.
.
it
see-
her head, slicked back
.
looking
.
.
human
stubby oiled
like
it
was,
a
like
up from the deep
An Anopheles gambiae,
level— there were brisdes
and he could see
hair,
had
fallen in a
forward to drink, as
legs, cantilevered
red vsdth blood it is
like
from the
which
allowing her to take in as
her
bites,
much
if
.
.
that the
in obeisance
.
.
her rear
.
.
abdomen
He had an intimate relationship with He could feel her tiny, honed mind,
frail-
abdomen glowing
distends enormously,
as four times her weight in blood
him.
on
loop away from the
skin, its see-through
a litde Christmas light
the female
man
places,
her tapered golden body, resting on the long, translucent,
Hfted, a forty degree angle
,
oil
ha ...
thirty-weight,
sheath-like covering of the proboscis stylets
pump
magnified perspective the mosquito's parts were
this
rougher than they appeared from the
.
he was
like
under a microscope now. Like he was standing—no, floating—float-
it
ing in front of the mosquito and he was smaller than
.
binocu-
like adjusting
in closer, sharper. It
mosquito.
like
one of those minute
It
.
.
.
was entering
this
paint-
on the head of a pin. He sensed her regard. The mosquito was dimly aware of his own mind hovering over her. He ings obsessed hobbyists put
could close in on the tiny gleam of her insect of an electric watch-and replace
egant
was
nod
like to
He
that
would
drink his
could do
it.
mind—less than the "mind" What a rare and el-
with his ovm.
be: getting into her
own blood
He
it
head so he could
feel
through the slender proboscis
could superimpose himself and fold his
.
what .
it
.
own
con-
sciousness up into the micro-cellular spaces. Any mind, large or small, could be concentrated in microscopic space; microspace was as infinite,
downwardly, as
wasn't
interstellar space,
being's consciousness. God's
mind could
it? fit
God
experienced every
into a mosquito. Like
all
on a symphony going through the needle of a record player, or through the tiny laser of a CD. The stylet in the mosquito's proboscis that music
was
like
the record player's stylus
Really, Really, Really,
.
.
.
Weird Stories
263
John Shirley
264 Skeeter Junkie
He
could
circle,
and
and
close in,
a soft ridge of topography.
participate,
could
.
.
of his
was drinking from. Himself; perhaps
formerly.
he was inside the mosquito.
levolent miracle:
He
and become.
own arm stretching out in front of him, He could see the glazing eyes of the man he
... see the rising fleshtone
It
was a wonderfully ma-
He was
own more-evolved
senses altered and enhanced by his
His blood was a syrup. The mosquito didn't
taste
it,
the mosquito.
Its
prescience. as such; but
Hector
could taste it—through his psychic extension of the mosquito's senses, he
supposed—and there were many confluent and
globin.
Her
And
very
faintly,
heroin. His eggs
Keep your
eggs.
tastes in
it,
mineral and meat
charged waters and honeyed glucose and adds and hemo-
electrically
would be
well sustained—
identity sorted out. Better yet, set
own
your
firmly atop hers. Take control.
Stop drinking.
More.
No.
Hector. Who's in charge, here? Stop drinking and
Insist,
imagine!
To
fly.
Just
take flight-
Almost before the retraction of her proboscis was completed, he was in the
he
air,
making the wings work without having to think about hard to control the
tried too
His
flight,
path was a herky-jerky
flight
it.
When
he foundered; so he simply
spiral,
flew.
each geometric section of
it
a
portion of an equation.
His senses expanded to adjust to the scope of
movement: the great cavern, the massive organism himself. Hector's
human
body,
left
new
his
his
He
wing energy, and thought:
small crack
But he
.
let
.
of
bottom of
it:
at the
behind.
Hector sensed a temperature change, a nudge of the crack in the window.
possibilities
air:
a current from
pushed himself up the stream, increasing I'll
crash
on
the edges of the glass,
it's
a
.
the insect's navigational instincts hold sway, and he was
through, and out into the night.
He could go anywhere, He went downstairs.
anywhere
at
all
.
.
.
Her window was open. From couch
a distance, the landscape of Lulu in her bikini underpants,
was
glorious, lying there
and nothing
were great slack mounds of cream and
else.
One
the
breasts
cherry. She'd fallen asleep with
the radio on; there were three empty cans of beer
by her head.
Her exposed
on
of her legs was drawn up,
on the
tilted to
lean
Really, Really, Really,
little its
end
table
knee against
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Skeeter Junkie
the wall, the other out straight, the limbs apart enough to trace her
open
labia against the blue silk panties.
Hector
circled near the ceiling.
words and
taffied
just faintly,
The
radio
boom
was a distorted
of
He thought that, TV waves washing over him,
industrial-sized beat, far off to port.
he could actually
passing through the
He wanted Lulu.
and
feel radio
air.
She looked
asleep.
But suppose she
felt
him, suppose
she heard the whine of his coming, and slapped, perhaps
just in reflex,
and crushed him—
Would he die when the mosquito Maybe that would be all right. Hector descended to
down, an
flight-path
died.^
her, following the
unseen
aerialist's
broken geometries of insect
staircase,
asymmetrical and yet
perfect.
Closer— he could
feel
could the skeeters bear
He
her heat. God, she was
a lake of
like
fire!
How
it?
entered her atmosphere. That's
how
it
seemed: she was almost
planetary in her glowing vastness, hot-house and fulsome.
He descended
through hormone-rich layers of her atmosphere, to deeper and more personal heats, until he'd settled Jesus!
It
But up
was
revolting. It
this close;
on the
skin of her left leg near the knee.
was ordinary
human
skin.
hugely magnified by his mosquito's perspective
was a cratered landscape, orange and gold and
It
.
.
.
in places white; here
and there the
flakes of blue, where dead skin cells were shedding away. In wens of pores and around the bases of the occasional stiff stalks of
hair
were puddly masses of pasty stuff he guessed were colonies of bacte-
ria. The skin itself was textured like pillows of meat all sewn together. The smells off it were overwhelming: rot and uric acid and the various compounds in sweat and a chemical smell of something she'd bathed
with—and an exudation of something she'd been eating Hector was an experienced hand with drugs; he
from revulsion to obsession, immersion that
came
him
.
.
to delight in the yeasty completeness of this
in the biological essence of her.
to
.
shifted his viewpoint
then, affecting
And
there
him the way the
was another smell
sight of a
woman's
cleavage had, in his boyhood. Blood.
Unthinking, he had already allowed the mosquito to unsheathe her
and
stylets
rooted,
drive
them
moving the
into a
slightly
damp
pillow of skin
cells.
He
pushed,
arched piercer in a motion that outlined a
cone, breaking tiny capillaries just inside the epidermis, making a pocket for the
blood to pool
in.
Really, Really, Really,
And
injecting the anti-coagulant saliva.
Weird Stories
265
John Shirley
266 Skeeter Junkie
Her blood was much
but he could taste the femaleness of
like his,
the hormonal signature and
.
.
it,
alcohol.
.
She swatted him.
He
felt
giant hand, before
and the hand wasn't
rigid
air
and he withdrew and .
.
to hit him, the
a
like a lid for
at
him
palm was
moment.
pressure flattened the mosquito, and Hector feared for his
spindly legs, but then light flashed over
air
She struck
struck.
it
enough
cupped. But the hand covered Hector
slightly
The
wind of the
the
in her sleep,
him again and the
lid lifted,
wings whining, up a short distance into the
flew,
.
She was mostly quiescent now. Looking from here shrub-furred
hills
you saw
smoothly into the next,
and
rattlers
tarantulas
He
.
And from up
here her thighs looked so sweet
left
he could see the tracery of her labia
The
dragons under a
silk
He
woods of pubic
could see the
Enough. Eggs,
He was
When
at last
canopy.
thigh skin hair
like
was only a litde
material
the shadows of sleeping
was a
smoother,
little
the slope a
paler.
litde.
He was
going to get closer
.
.
.
he reached the frontier of Lulu's panties, and stood be-
under a wrinkle lips,
down
from
inside thigh, not far
The
outside.
in control.
tween two outlying spring-shaped
vaginal
blending
.
.
dipped down, and alighted on Lulu's
No.
hill
you got close and saw ant colonies and
the pale blue circus tent billow of her panties. stained;
one
the rolling,
between the clumps.
She hadn't awakened.
and tender
in parts of California:
until
like
stalks
in the elastic at the
he was paralyzed by
of red-brown pubic
monumental This was a
fear.
vertical
hair,
gazing
furrow of her
great temple to
some
subaquatic monster, and would surely punish any intrusion.
With the
fear
came a sudden perception of
now, and an unbottling of gargantuan in both
size
his resentments.
a hatch in his brain, and a set of
and
as
A sudden He
own
relative tininess,
and arrogance.
But he had learned that he was the master of
grip,
his
She was forbidden, she was
new
his reality.
controls that
fit
He had found
namrally to his
he chose. darkness, then; a
wind-
sprang up, narrowly escaping the swat. Hearing a sound
like
a
jet
on her of misshapen words. The
breaking the sound barrier— the wind of her hand and the slap thigh.
Then
a
murky
roaring, a
boulder-fall
goddess coming awake; the goddess speaking.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley Something
Skeeter Junkie 267
like,
"Fucking skeeter
Oh,
yes?
The
fury swelled in him,
and
as
it
.
.
.
little
shit
.
.
.
get the fuck out ..."
grew-Lulu shrank. Or seemed
to, as
rage pushed his boundaries out like a parade balloon, but unthinkable
She shrank to
fast.
woman
once more
size,
desirable.
She screamed, of course.
He
glimpsed them both
A man-sized mosquito,
in her vanity
mirror
.
.
.
poised with slender but strong front
Lulu
legs;
screaming, as he leaned back onto his hind legs and spread her legs with the middle limbs and drove his piercer through the fabric of her panties
and
into the forbidden temple of the goddess, into the tube of what
now only the tender little He thrust the thirty-inch pulled out a stasy
.
He
.
little;
outer
membrane of her
proboscis
he thrust
in
.
.
.
stylets
was
reproductive organs.
deep into the vagina.
He
feeling her writhe in a disgusted ec-
.
might go the next
and beyond
to
an
step.
artery;
Thrust through her
cervix, into the
womb,
suck her so hard she turned inside out and
atomized and sucked whole into him, making him three times bigger.
But he held
off.
He pumped
his proboscis like a dick
In her delighted revulsion, she struck at the mosquito's
The pain was
realer
and— compound
and more personal than he'd expected.
eyes.
He jerked
back, withdrawing, floundering off the edge of the bed, feeling a leg shatter against the floor
The pain and
and a wing crack, one of
the disorientation
his eyes half blind
.
.
.
unmanned him. Emasculated him,
As always when that happened, he shrank. The boundaries of the room expanded and the bed grew, around him, into a dirty white plain; Lulu grew, again becoming a small worid to herintimidated him.
self
.
.
He
.
Her hand
sliced
threw himself
down
at
him—
frantically into the air, his
stochastically; the wings'
damaged wings ascending
keening sound not quite right now, his
trajec-
tory uncertain.
The
ceiling
loomed; the window crack beckoned.
In seconds he
had swoim upstream against the night
air,
and managed
to aim himself between the edges of the crack in the glass; the lips of the break like a crystalline take on her vagina. Then he was out into the night,
and regaining some greater control over
That's not That's
how
how
it
was, he
his
realized: she, the
they'd gotten through the crack
wings
.
.
.
mosquito had control.
and out
into the night.
Let the mosquito mind take the head, then, for now, while he rested his psyche and pondered. That great yellow egg, green around the edges
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
268 Skeeter Junkie with refinery toxins, must be the moon;
tar buckets
jumble of what seemed sky-
this
must be the pipes and chimneys and discarded
scraper-sized structures
of the apartment building's roof.
Something washed over him, rebounding, making him shudder air.
Only
after
it
departed did
it
in the
register in his hearing: a single high note,
from somewhere above. There,
an
in
it
came
more defined and
again,
about
alien certainty
its
The mosquito redoubled
pulsingly closer, as
its
wing beats
Hector
down between
circled
streetlight
Another,
.
.
Enemy. Go.
the old brick apartment buildings, to-
even more purposeful note
air.
hit
shadow draped him, and wing
nating him, and then a
on the
fear.
.
slightly higher,
tympanically
He
superimposed against the
Hector, reso-
beats thudded
for
one snapshot-clear moment,
dirty indigo sky.
Hector knew he should de-
saw the bat
tach from the mosquito, but the outspread wings of the bat,
and wet snout, caught him with
ears
perfect, poised against the sky, as the his
arm.
It
growing
and there was an
in reaction,
urgency that was too neurologically primitive to be actual
ward the
if
purpose.
its
its
pointed
heraldic perfection—it
was
as
mosquito had seemed, poised on
trapped him with fascination.
Sending out a
final
sonar note to pinpoint the mosquito, the bat struck
head forward-
its
But Hector was diving now, under fall
for a
He
ways
just to get
the
most
it,
swirling in the
letting himself
air,
distance.
glimpsed the hangar-like opening of a
window and
flew for
An
sensed a body inside and newly flowing female blood.
He
it.
even bigger
woman.
He
had
to rest
first.
He
found a spot on a wall near the
ceiling.
Some-
time later there was the sound of a radio alarm coming on to wake the sleeper
below him, the radio
And
this is the
KRED
mit.
Look out
for
KRED
radio
in
mid-monologue
crack-of-dawn-news,
your hamburgers,
from Lubbock where a
.
all the
.
.
news
that's fit to trans-
comes
to
shot by a burger
It
folks, that's the story that
woman was
seems that some twisted soul has been putting .22 caliber
ground meat sold the burger
Lubbock supermarkets. The
was cooking
wound from
last
night
a bullet fragment
.
and the woman .
.
exploded while
bullet
suffered a
Chrysler has
minor facial
announced two new
and plans to lay off some ^^ 000 people an hour and we'll give you the first KRED morning
plant closures oh,
at
bullets into
.
.
.
Give us about,
traffic
Really, Really, Really,
report
.
.
.
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Skeeter Junkie 269 00 00 00
When Lulu woke,
she had cramps. But
that bothered her.
There was a taintedness lingering on her
nightmare of the giant mosquito had
mone on
her.
it
left
was the
aftertaste of the
dream
skin, as
if
the
a sort of mephitic insect phero-
She took two showers, and
ate her breakfast,
and
listened
to the radio, and, by comforting degrees, forgot about the dream.
When
she went downstairs the building manager was letting the ambulance
tendants
in.
They were
in
no
hurry.
He was dead. No one was surprised. He was
It
was the guy
upstairs, the
at-
manager
said.
Next day Lulu was no one was looking.
a junkie. Everybody
scratching the skeeter bites,
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
knew
that.
whenever she thought
What JoY! What Fulfillment!
Henry was It
a bit disappointed by his suicide.
wasn't, he told himself, that he'd really
wanted the spectacular
of suicide he'd once imagined for himself, just eleven years before,
sort
when
he'd been a seventeen-year-old role-playing gamer in Covina, California.
He'd pictured strapping dynamite gress
and blowing them
all
to himself, then walking into
up along with
himself.
Con-
No particular political
grudges involved; he'd simply wanted a suicide that would earn him a place in history.
And
neither
friend Lydia
had he wanted the melodramatic
had genuinely pulled
chest, outside her parents'
off:
hanging
herself,
bedroom door one
morning they'd opened the door
sort of suicide that his
with a sign on her
night so that the next
to find their fifteen-year-old daughter
dangling crookedly, hours dead, bearing a sign that read:
THIS No. Too
IS
WHAT YOU WANTED, ISN'T IT?
over-the-top, even
had he
childish motivations for suicide. it
It
was the
first
step through the Gate,
was cosmically motivated,
Marshall had
said, a
still
entertained those kinds of
His suicide wasn't first
step in a journey to a reunion.
in the true sense. It
Anyway, he thought, now, as he waited for
was a
purification,
it
his
had been done
journey to really begin,
right.
He'd
carried
it
off
He stood—if stood was the word—gazing appreciatively at his body
lying there, in still
all:
transcendance.
simple though the suicide was, perfectly.
really a suicide at
its
orange robe, v^th the candles about
it,
the ritual incense
smoking. His face hadn't contorted; there was no spray of vomit from
the mouth. His pudgy late-twenties
had been
as
Marshal had said
it
body had never looked
would
be, quite painless.
better.
Take the
the toxified Jell-O, drink the wine. Wait for the sleeping
pills
to
And
pills,
do
it
eat
their
work, and so they had; he didn't even remember losing consciousness. Then
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
WhatJoy! What Fulfillment!
John Shirley the poison had stirred
itself into his bloodstream, completing the recipe, and was not even a sense of wrenching in the parting. His spirit had slipped out of his body as easily as he'd shrugged out of his bathrobe before
voild; there
the ritual cleansing in the Motel 6's shower. It
wasn't perfect, though, not
really:
he'd had to go solo, having
left
them ready. And he'd never had as some of the others had. He'd
the Passengers before Marshal declared the courage to remove his
when
been there pers.
The blood,
it
testicles,
had been done
the
little
to Jerry.
The
drugs, the garden clip-
He'd gotten
splash into the bucket.
dizzy
and
And the sight had led to his leaving them; running home to Mother. Who, of course, was pained to see him back at home. "Pain when you first came out, a pain in the ass when you walk back in, almost thrown up.
too," she'd said, sipping her dry Manhattan. Thinking herself funny, too.
That was the amazing at the
Women's
thing.
But she'd been humiliated when someone
Creativity Circle
had
said she'd seen
him interviewed on
TV as a 'cult survivor'. He wished she could be here now; wished she could be here with him spiritually,
The was
and
far wall
just
see, just see, really see for herself—
of the motel
room was
When had
gone.
it
vanished?
It
dark there, a sucking darkness, a smiling, hungry darkness-
Then he was spinning through it, flying through was The Tunnel! And through The Tunnel to .
.
space, through-yes,
it
.
A kaleidoscope of his past, all osterized together: getting kicked out of Boy Scouts ter
PE
for masturbating;
Mr. Smith taking him into the showers
af-
and playing vsdth his thing; birthday with his Dad, good feelings
because
his
Dad had
really
loved him; his Dad's death; the funeral;
school and school and school and smoking hash after school with
one who asked him if he believed in UFOs; seeing Close Encounters and believing he saw himself going into that spaceship with Richard Dreyfus; getting laid and feeling sick afterwards
Buddy who was
the
first
Mother telling him he was "a mistake who keeps on making them;" Dungeons and Dragons, and he saw the characters in real beings; all the role-playing games there before him, as real people, in colfailing games and games and games; miserably realizing he was lege; the flying saucer he'd seen, a shining oblong that his brother had
and the
girl
laughing;
insisted
was
just
a blimp catching sunset
light,
but Henry had
known
.
.
was them. And they were looking for him Buddy telling him about Marshal. Marshal, the old man with the sexPassengers, to less, eternally smiling eyes, welcoming him to the
It
Heaven's Gate
.
.
.
.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
.
.
271
272
What JoY! What Fulfillment!
John Shirley
But now, as he hurtled through the curtains of eternity where were the stars?
Had Marshal
said anything about this kaleidoscope of
was
memories?
Henry Where were the stars? Where were the stars that Marshal had promised? Where was the comet that accompanied the great Mothership of the Space Angels, those beings of light who appeared to human beings more like oversized didn't think so.
to think.
It
all
.
.
.
who—
newts, but
There!
was hard
It
The
As
stars!
them, there were the
had summoned
his expectation, his seeking
if
stars,
the nebulae, the majestic planets, marbled
And
with color, whirling by; and there—yes, there! There was the comet! beside
it
.
.
.
That Samrn-shaped vehicle of shining
encrusted with energy gems
.
.
.
silver, its
power-ring
The Mothership!
A starship, yes—but with a whole other spirimal dimension to just as A starship with its own aura, propelled through it,
Marshal had described
it.
space by the divine energy of the space angels within
He was
falling
flying along
you
fell
toward
it
without an up or
toward
it
.
.
.
And
so
it
Would
it
admit him? Or would his brother
to
.
it
.
be
thing
was now, the Mothership seeming
low" him, getting bigger and bigger
away from what
it.
how in space you seemed down but when you approached a
now. Funny
"be-
.
turn
him away, because he'd run
had sneeringly
called a cult, because he'd
refused to keep the faith?
"Marshal!" he shouted, but the shouting was soundless here in the
vacuum of
space.
And he
didn't have a
mouth,
really, to
shout with— did
he? But he kept trying. ''Marshalllir
Then he saw Marshal
like
a ghostly giant against the stars; Marshal in
a shimmering robe, a translucent projection of Marshal emanating from the giant Mothership
And
lo!
.
.
.
Welcoming him with open arms!
Heaven's Gate opened for him!
A great
hatchway had rolled
back on the curved surface of the giant starship below him, and a shaft of golden light shone up
drew him
on him from
closer, like a tractor
beam
within,
in Star
and
it
caught him in
it,
Wars, and he passed the
glittering outer hull
of the starship and was drawn through a corridor of
silver-flecked glass,
diamond
walls flickering with the inner fires of the
ship's divinely energized stardrive.
Then he passed through—just
as
Marshal had described
it!— the Rain-
bow of Purification, which removed the last stains of sin and doubt from him, making him
feel ecstatically
buoyant, the lightest element in the
universe!
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
What Joy! What Fulfillment!
John Shirley
And
two great golden doors swung back for him
then,
music
tial
the
filled
and a warm sea
you could
a music
you
.
.
and a
.
celes-
a spray of cool mist
feel like
breeze, a music that carried
A music with
updraft ... It
air,
like
a butterfly
on an
a beat!
reminded him of a John Tesh song he'd heard once, a kind of Age dance song
sort of
New
Maybe John Tesh had been an alien,
But of course-there he was, Tesh
alien!
dancing with the others! Hundreds of others!
in person,
dancing together on and above a
mered with rainbow
And
light to the music's
beat
.
.
Human
and
dance floor that shim-
.
was Buddy! And Linda, and Drew and Luce and Wendy
there
and Hassan and a grey alien
crystalline
.
.
.
there
who wore
a
was Marshal, up on
crown of
that dais, standing beside
an
tiny stars caught in
The Queen of the Galaxy herself! Then he was down among them, with all his old
little
web
of
antigravity forces.
around him, and the joy was incandescent enormous.
had
It
all
been
true!
in
friends whirling
him, and the
And he danced
relief
was
beneath a weighdess
floating chandelier of light, within high walls of mother-of-pearl, floating
over the glassy, shining floor: the ballroom of the gods.
And
so they danced in the travelling disco of the
stars, to
the rave music
human beings in shimmering robes dancing with the litde grey aliens who moved like spiraling smoke to the music, loving greys laughing like elves, and his human friends, too, dancing around him smilof the spheres,
and Buddy and
ing, Jerry
"Isn't this great? It
all
was
all
the
girls
...
He
spoke to Buddy
arms over
"Buddy?
He
.
just
danced and waved
his head.
Hey Buddy!
shouted
people would
.
true!"
Buddy's happy expression never changed, he his
.
it
Isn't this great?"
now, leaning
Not
nearer.
how
sure
physical these
someone josde him. expression on the face of a bot,
be, though occasionally he could feel
Buddy turned him a happy look, like the some character in a computer game. A computer animated face, almost. Then he saw another Buddy's face-beneath Buddy's face. AnBut .
.
.
other face behind the outer one.
looked anguished. For a
It
pushed through the membrane of the screamed and he heard the scream
in his
outer,
moment
smiling face and
it it
mind:
They're doing something to us, Henry we cant get out of them! out beforeget to Henry try they're But then the music changed; it was as if someone had taken the coher.
.
.
.
.
.
ent stream of music in sonic hands and twisted
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
it,
like
a wet towel, and
273
274 WhatJoy, ripped
What Fulfillment
John Shirley
and another music was revealed within the
it,
first like
Buddy's
anguished face within the happy one.
when Henry
That's
noticed the aliens were growing; the
happy
little
Gumby, fleshing out, swelling like balloons, becoming taller than the humans—and then each one embraced one of the One of them had embraced Buddy and now Buddy's outer humans face simply fizzled out and was gone, and his inner face, the true face, screamed soundlessly as the thing drew him into itself the way an amoeba sucks in a smaller organism, and Buddy was inside the thing, pushing on its now-transparent skin from within its hollow innards, like greys stretching out like
.
a
man
bery
.
.
inside a balloon pushing to get out
sac;
and the grey began
to shrink,
its
and not able
to break the rub-
face changing,
its
body
shrink-
wrapping over Buddy's—and others doing the same to Luce, to Jerry, all
the others
.
.
and yes the queen was doing
.
it
to Marshal!
And
to
the
music had become a triumphant cacophony, and the mother-of-pearl
had cracked, began
walls
tering
with
bits
carrot
and pieces of human bodies
floating in
down two more
now
that extruded maggots, each
transformed greys and
And now one of down at him and he he sank down— upward,
tiny eye
on
it
howled with
the creatures tried to
laughter.
must be a
at
him and
he tore himself free and rocketed
spirit
by pure
will, jetting
on
the fuel of ecto-
in the ceiling-
heard Marshal wailing after him, screaming at him to it
one of the
was looming over Henry, grinning
run but the soupy floor sucked
flying, carried
But then he was
that the de-
it
tried to get out of the interior of
plasm toward the spewing tube
to have faith,
this
with pendulous tongues and eyesockets
maggot with one
But with a huge effort of the
He
used
and Luce—Henry'd had such a crush on her!—
see,
screamed and clawed and
straight
who
spirits
as they really were: sadistic mockeries of
faces, grossly diabolic,
used to
were
was
stomach to break them down so they could consume
them, and he saw them
human
it
it
and
luckless late-coming suicides;
a giant stomach, and the aliens inside
great external
mon
and giant sections of
it,
and chunks of half digested meat, and the chandelier had become
a tube that spat all
to issue yellow pustulence, to leak red like fes-
wounds, and the floor had become a glutinous, bubbling acid
test, it
must
in the ceiling tube,
come
back,
be!
ascending up
it
like
a bird flying up
a well, spiraling, his lower parts burning, exhaustion pulling on him gravity,
but up he went—and burst out through a vertical
hide of the thing
.
.
wound
like
in the
.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
What Joy, What Fulfillment
John Shirley
And now that he was free and hideous and
eternally
of the mothership he saw that
hungry creature
knew
thing of gray scales and ooze, and he
Asmodeus
amongst
floating not
stars
itself, its
it
was a great
a bloated,
name:
wounded
ASMODEUS
tweenness of limbo, and he knew that he and the others had seen
Had Had
seen
.
.
.
.
expected to
afterlife that they'd
Marshal had coached them to
afterlife
.
conscious, for those
who waited, there, who followed their
see.
see, until the
had broken through the decaying consensual
the hungry creatures
who
only the
first,
They'd seen the
those
.
.
seen, at
truer afterlife
.
.
but in a gray nothingness, the be-
and
vision;
for the mindless, for the unfears
and petty impulses,
for
followed stronger minds from birth to death: these hungry
ones had made use of their group
had finally closed and the
fantasy, held
moment had come
them
in
it
until the trap
and
for their wholesale
salacious consumption.
Henry ascended
still,
much
trying to put as
distance as possible be-
tween himself and the hideous creature he had once thought a "mothership"
Then
.
.
beautiful
.
a whipping
pseudopod
issued
from the crown of tortured
ten-
drils on the giant head of Asmodeus, and it gripped Henry about the middle and drew him close to its vast, stinking mouth and he tried to remember a prayer, to prepare himself for the death within a death .
But instead
your
first
provocative
.
.
.
Just
enough
lure insisted
on
mistake
Now if you
.
.
gain, small
.
believing his
and showing
initiative to
own
itself
make you
lies-hut you,
would be other than
.
.
.
Beginning with
again with your useful
you
.
.
The other
make that make your bar-
will
digested,
.
before the Great Revelation
not
name
to go with
it:
reincarnated for twenty-eight earthly years
came he was
to him.
now
He now
had another body,
Ervin Holmes,
knovm
to
as the Penultimate Prophet, teacher to the twenty-first century's
Lost Generation, and until Sitting in the dressing
few hundred
was
moment
dressing
at this
room
mirror,
glass as in the gray
this
room
to speak to a It
sec-
one ..."
Henry had been dead and another
independence here
little
escape from the trap,
ond attempt
.
spoke.
it
7 perceive a
.
own
moment-
of the
little
auditorium, waiting to go on,
followers.
that he
saw
his real mission.
he saw Asmodeus
betweenness of limbo.
Really, Really, Really,
some
Weird Stories
Looking into the
himself, floating in the silvery
275
276
What JoY! What Fulfillment! "Now, small one
And
so he went
cTOwd, and he
to contemplate.
And
on
.
bring
stage,
me
food, or
become food
yourself
." .
.
and smiled, and a hush descended over the
have good news for you. You don't have to stay in
world anymore. The Space Angels have spoken to
and they are ready
"What
.
said, "I
this dark, brutal
"Oh my
.
John Shirley
to receive
you
... the transition will
be a
me—
bit frightening
But once you get there ... oh, once you get there—"
friends—"
joy,
what
fulfillment!"
his followers cried out in glad assent.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
19961997199^
She was a small soft thing walking
under the
sullen gray sky of a
in the shadow of great hard things, November morning. She was in North
Central California, and she was quite alone. She was Little Connie
Depthcharge, taking a walk into the year 1996. That's of
how
she thought
Every second, she reasoned, took her further into the year.
it.
year
was unfolding around
fice
of decay.
place.
Not
The
all
her, bleak
year 1996
was a
Connie was nine years
no
none
(the
children's
"My
a
had perceived the world
it.
Now she saw that the world had
Perhaps there was some great sucking whirl-
visible.
pool of events somewhere,
Reader
is
blossoming symmetrically out from her; she
herself at the center of
panned
relendess, pervading this edi-
Connie thought. This time
old. Until this year she
had imagined
she'd
the
times are places, not so you'd notice, but this one was.
as a sort of efflorescence
center, or
and
place,
And
like
the black hole in that old Disney movie
in the videocassette section of
column was
called
her column for Weekly
"The Cinematic
newspaper had gone yellow
Bitch."
Now
that the
tabloid, with blaring headlines
Mom
Has Sex with the Vacuum Cleaner and I'm, Like, So Embarrassed," it had room for Little Connie's penetrating if spiteful
like
analyses.)
Connie was thinking about these things
as she
walked along the weed-
thatchy railroad tracks. She was walking through the old industrial park.
Much
had been closed continuously since the Dream Plagues. The smokestacks were streaked with rust, marbled with cracks; the acid rains had pitted the gray and black walls of the monoIt
was closed
lithic
today.
buildings squatting
because the place had
of
it
on both
sides of her.
She liked to walk here
a dreary, cinemaverite quality that she
found
reas-
suring. It had no affect. It could be trusted, she thought, to remain itself. She was weary of the unpredictable, since the Dream Plagues; since the
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories Don't you remember when
all
this
happened?
John Shirley
278 199619971998
War
of the Weirdos; since the jarring sight of the people spinning by
overhead, high on antigravity drugs
.
.
Here, at
.
there were
no
seemed too cold
for
least,
surprises.
A
her by scuttling from a hole.
lizard surprised
be about. The
lizards to
blooded
was a
lizard
from another
another, darting
things, rats
hole.
leathery
And
through
this industrial vein,
feet.
then the warm-
in the ridges of cinders to
moving
in the dusty foun-
like
a fear
hormone
scrambling randomly about, ignoring her, and
she read the signs for what they were. She could feel the soles of her
And
shimmying from the cracks
dations of the old factories, small living things
Then
here and gone.
sizzle,
another.
and mice, oozing from holes
either side of the rusty tracks,
It
it
herself, then: felt
In that spot, the place in her foot that
Mother
it
in
said
contained a gland of some kind. (Poor crazy Mama; poor dead Mama; she'd insisted
was,
on a coffin shaped and painted
like,
so embarrassing. But
it
a Deep Space Nine lunchbox.
like
was her
funeral.)
Staggering to remain upright. Little Connie
up from some epicenter below the matched
ripples to either side as
become confusion ing
Mama's
the vibrations ripple
felt
railroad tracks;
saw the dust
traveled outward;
as the vibrations collided
from the opposite
chines and
it
rise in
saw the symmetry
with quake vibrations com-
She thought of blenders and
direction.
It
taffy
ma-
candy-striped vibrator.
She was too fascinated,
just then, to
quake, and she thought of
it
be
afraid.
This was her
earth-
first
storm in the earth, weather underfoot,
as a
and, swaying, she sought to find
its
groove, the
taught her. "Every storm has a groove,"
way her mother had
Mama had
said.
But then the buildings began to move. They weren't
they
falling,
They were moving toward one another. The newer ones were moving faster, she noticed. They were moving with an im-
weren't caving
in.
possible ease, sailing the
the earthquake or
made
ground to
like ships across water, either
move by
making
the earthquake, thunderous but ab-
surdly graceful. Like improbably swift icebergs,
coming together
.
.
.
and
she was going to be caught between them.
But
still
the terror refused to come. She
wondered
at its absence. Per-
haps she was numb; perhaps resigned to death. She was alone in the world.
Why
Closer. gravel, fantails
not?
The
open ground, plowing up the prow making a wake in the dirt, raising
buildings sailed across the
coming corner
first like
a
of dust, shrieking with the grind of metal and concrete
ghost in chains. Closer, looming over her; she could smell sparks rising
like
spray from the
prow of
these industrial ships
Really, Really, Really,
like
a
friction, see .
.
.
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Maybe
199619971998
was
this
hallucination, she told herself.
all
Plagues were over, and she
No,
knew what that felt like.
But the Dream
Hallucinations had a
was no dream, she knew,
as a chunk of rock, smashed by one onrushing building against another, flew apart and a
distinctive quality.
fragment
No,
this
hit
was
this
her cheek. real.
It
stung
nastily,
and blood ran along her
jawline.
Objectively real.
The buildings loomed over her and then the corners of the buildings had pushed past her on either side, grinding the railroad steel into tangled .
ribbons that whipped through the
.
.
air
.
.
.
She dodged a cobra of torn
steel
and, staggering in the Shockwaves cracking the ground, she stepped into the interstice between the two onrushing prows, where outthrust bulkheads, passing one another, made, a sort of alleyway a few feet wide
The
buildings stopped moving; cacophony gave
She waited, breathless, as the dust
settled.
The
way
.
.
.
to eerie silence.
buildings
on
either side
had moved together, leaving only a few gaps here and there, like the gaps between wrongly fitted jigsaw-puzzle pieces. She was safe in one of these, for the
The
moment.
buildings
had moved very
nudged by some geologic randomness. She knew That's
it
separate buildings
as,
met mouth
overhead, a set of smokestacks from two
mouth and, somehow, locked together. The windows of the buildings shattered.
to
tortured metal squealed.
Connie ducked
is
it.
the smokestacks tilted over and began to snake toward
one another. She watched
The
Who
wasn't over. She could feel
when
Not like things moving them? Why?
deliberately, she thought.
flying shards of oily glass as sections of
themselves through
windows and moved
creak, together, locking into unity like
machinery thrust creak-
click-click, snick-snick,
the smokestacks: sections of pipe
and wire and gauges and robotic arms and struts and more wire and tubing and gears and cogs and the rollers from conveyor belts and metal
hooks and stamping
units
cate variations of metal
and
and
and a thousand
intri-
and rubber innards she couldn't
iden-
stainless-steel presses
plastic
themselves, grindtify; self-animated, they began to rewire and reconstruct making a process, the in ing and caterwauling and moaning and sparking mazelike roof of odd machine parts a few feet over Connie's head .
"Right this way. voice,
Little
melodious and
Connie! Big
warm and
sale
on
small favors!"
It
.
was a man's
perhaps a touch unctuous. But a voice
She crawled toward the sound, under the writhing nest of living metal. Half expecting to be caught up by the wires and incorpopipes, forced into the woof of their rigid weave, crushed and to inspire confidence.
rated in living death.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
279
John Shirley
28o 199619971998
No. She emerged from beneath the
ceiling of the living unliving,
and
on her knees before a doorw^ay at the end of the alley. It W3S found a cobw^ebby old back door of one of the factories, and standing in the open door was a sign shaped like a man. One of those cardboard cutout herself
life-size
photos you see promoting things
in a supermarket.
But then
it
moved and she saw^ it wasn't a sign, it was quite three-dimensional and human. Some quality of absolute emblematic expression—as if this man were only semiotics—had made him seem artificial at first. Looking at his face, the fixed expression
and
idiotic grin, the
of
unwavering diagonal of the ordinary brovm pipe
clenched in teeth so white and even they looked perfect quizzical
drugged eyes
faintly self-deprecating glee, the
of a piece ... the
all
brows and immaculate swept-back short black
hair
.
.
.
Looking up into that face she once more had the sense of emblem, of semiotic absolutes
And
.
.
.
mouth moved; the pipe bobbed-some noxious smoke in the air—his head tilted
then he spoke. His
herb in
it
tracing a wavery line of blue
.
but the expression remained the same. "Connie," he
move
The Prototime
quickly.
you prefer
to die horribly,
She blinked. It
was
As
if it
jet?
as
if
He
upon
us.
Am
I
right?
were a
You coming? Or do
hadn't asked the question sarcastically, or facetiously.
viable option, like,
"Lead the way," she
saw-puzzle pieces after
factory
would you
till
and behind her the buildings closed up they
fit
itself
around them.
perfectly together.
The
right
jig-
all.
was reconstructing
thesis, antithesis, synthesis,
metal pandemonium.
horribly.
prefer to take the train or a
said.
the door
the gaps, sidling and edging
another factory;
.
to
by remaining here?"
he sincerely thought she might actually want to die
They went through
The
is
"we have
said,
The
and the
feverish self-redesigning
It
was merging with
synthesis
was
was heavy-
clearly guided,
conscious—but what consciousness was the guiding force was a palpable mystery Connie could taste in her mouth and smell in her
nostrils,
along
with the stink of random lightning bolts and the ancient scent-of uneasy
petroleum and tortured metal and ozone.
She walked timeless
suit,
in the lee of the briskly striding stranger, a
her eyes stung by the
smoke from
his pipe.
tall
man
in a
They plunged
through a mechanical Armageddon, as machines threw themselves through the tions
air at
merged
one another—but instead of crashing the machine
perfectly;
signed to interface
sec-
machines that could not possibly have been de-
somehow tilted and gyrated to
interface.
Really, Really, Really,
She thought
Weird Stories
John Shirley
199619971998
again of puzzle parts. All this time the puzzle parts have lain about us the table and we didn't know they fit together. To make what? .
.
on
.
Sparks flew, smoke belched, wires whipped, pipes clanged, things flashed past, moved in a blur in search of unity, a dance of death all around them, and somehow, miraculously, they walked through the gaundet untouched. The man never seemed to look around, never
seemed
to
watch where he was going
and somehow, so
far,
at
all.
He
just
blundered through
was unhurt. Once, a year before, looking through
window of a factory, she'd seen a mouse run along a conveyor The conveyor belt carried bits of soft metal to stamping presses the
stamped the metal
belt.
that
Dabney the Poodle doorbell ringers, a faddish The mouse ran under the stampers-and past them, nar-
novelty item.
into
rowly avoiding getting crushed
five
times before
it
leapt free. Just the
luck of the very stupid, she'd thought.
Was that what was happening now.'^ Not for everyone. She glimpsed people—maybe workmen, maybe takers—caught in the machinery, skewered and crushed
care-
cockroaches
like
caught in a garbage disposal ... she couldn't bear to look, to think about it.
She
tried to think of
something
man
to talk to the
mind off what she'd seen. "How'd you know my name?" she
asked, shouting
about, to get her
it
over the uneven
racket of the place. "It
was written on your pstench!" he shouted.
"I
whiffread
Your
it!
mom had coded into your DNA so could find you!" A lunatic, she thought. But he had saved her "What's your name?" it
I
life.
He
stopped and turned to
An enormous
her.
razor-edged
pendulum
of metal swept by in the spot he would have been in had he kept going. It
would have pulped him, she thought,
just then.
He
who'd come shook
his
thrust out a
to the
hand
door once.
is
marks around
hadn't asked
him
(Mom had broken the guy's
hand. Feverishly warm.
"The name
if I
name
his
to her, like an encyclopedia salesman
Possibilities
fingers.)
squirmed under the
She
skin.
Dobbs!
J.R.
"Bob" Dobbs!" You could hear the quotation
"Bob.''
He
turned and swept onward, plunging recklessly
through the storm of flying metal. She followed, trying not to look around, tasting the fear now.
Up
ahead, a conveyor belt was taking cryptically shaped segments of
crystal
up an
incline,
toward the
ceiling,
and through a hole
in the roof.
They stepped
off the conveyor belt, onto the roof. Beside them, the
sized irregular
chunks of crystal
Really, Really, Really,
fell
off the belt
Weird Stories
and
fist-
rolled with effordess
281
John Shirley
282 199619971998
serendipity to
fit
To
perfectly into irregular holes pocking the roof.
the expanse of tarpaper
left
was unbroken. "Bob" strode
When
of the roof; Connie followed.
the
off to the edge
she got there she saw with a flush
of embarrassment that he'd unzipped his pants and was peeing off the
edge of the building. With
his free
hand he gestured sweepingly
at the
great world. "Behold, the Prototime!"
She gazed out over the
The
city.
buildings
on
beyond the
the Strip,
edge of the industrial park, were moving and changing too. They were
and chains of some
franchises
all
PetroPup, In-n-
sort: 7-Eleven, Soy-Boy,
Out, PigeonPie, Pioneer Chicken, Colonel Sanders, McDonald's, Carl's Jr.,
Horse Habit, ArtiFish
'n'
places like Kragoffs Soviet
They were
Chips, and the discount department store
and Target and Bozo's Re-Cycled Goods and the other
chains, K-mart
moving
all
Auto
Parts
wards, leaping together, or stumping
and
together in
falling
seemed
some
and normal
natural
Chicken and PetroPup
fit
.
.
neady into
drive-in
.
on
an explosion run back-
were crutches
their signs like they
once achieved,
cryptic organization that, .
because they
all fit.
K-mart
with Pioneer
fit
with Carl's Jr., they locked together
door
parts, signs snicking into place in
ting
.
.
together, like a film of
windows,
all
slots,
machine
like
oddly angled roof peaks
fit-
the jumble of architectural ineptitude
wondered about suddenly made sense when they were
she'd always
locked together, and an w^^rbuilding came about, the gestalt fevered mating ... an
enormous
fruit
quasi-crystalline structure that
of this
reached
out multicolored limbs of fiberglass and plastic and impossibly flexible roofing
tiles
park,
trial
to interface neatly with the reconstructed shapes of the indus-
The
of
all
environment
.
.
it
becoming One Thing, some minatory
self-contained
.
clangor and roar of it resonated the surface of the planet
like
a cymbal.
Afraid, feeling so tiny in the sight of this mighty reconstruction (and see-
ing that "Bob" had put his majestic privates back in his pants
them "
up). Little
"Bob" ... "No. But
This
is
is it it
Connie took "Bob's" hand and moved close beside him. happening everywhere?"
will
happen everywhere, unless we stop
it.
Little
Connie.
the Prototime, the precursor to X-Day, Connie, the Con's prep for
July 5th, 1998. They're setting a trap for us, so
charismatic strangers set
and zipped
from Planet
we
will
be
lost to those
X when they arrive on Earth ...
a trap
by the Conspiracy and triggered by the Malign Sendings of the
Yacatisma!
What you're
seeing
is
the Conspiracy preparing the
Yacatisma (not to be confused with Yacatizma)
from interceding with the
Xists.
who
The Conspiracy
way
for the
seek to prevent
me
hid this one from us,
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley Connie
.
.
199619971998
they hid
.
it
from us using the power of the Smog Monster, who
The poisons
blanketed the Earth with toxic complacency. the
air slowly, subtly,
and we accepted them. The
manity found a thousand fought them
.
.
intelligent
See into the Higher Wire a chic
smoke
ways to
and they affected our minds.
.
blind, just
little
spread through
among huthem—so no one
'intelligent'
rationalize
Made
even those of us
who
enough so they created a
psy-
screen, enabling the Conspiracy to plant their submolecular
nanotechnological machinery in the paint and insulation and plastics and
went unpredicted.
lubricants of these structures hence, this
Fuck!
The Smog Monster
sending of
.
.
.
fooled us
GBROAGFRAN!!!,
Smog Monster is a God from Deep Space!" With
was
thing that
on an
driving to Kragoffs Soviet Auto Parts to see
would work
amplified reverb
been possible only with recording-studio equip-
quality that should have "I
Connie.
... for the
all
the Rebel
the uttering of this arcane name, his voice took
ment.
Little
as a
water
pump
for a '57
if
they had some-
Smdebaker,
when
I felt
the submolecular Conspirals of self-organizing quantum-mechavibrational
systems in the Material Reality Underpinnings—and .
knew we'd been
Smog Monster is creating an enormous mechaniz/ed concamp for the processing and subjugation of SubGeniuses and
snookered. The centration
non-Normals of all kinds! We should have guessed, seeing the franchises and chain stores scab up around the periphery of the cities, like ringworm, like
an encamped army around
us, tightening
the noose, subjecting us to
bombardments of mind-numbing consumer-conditioning symbols. should have guessed they were simply preparing the ground for this
I
.
."
He
paused to
stuff a
the pipe never quite side of his
wad
of multicolored herb into his
went out
as
mouth, chattering
he did
rapid-fire
this
.
.
Puffing, talking out of the
.
but offhandedly the whole time:
came to investigate. Lucky for you is a child, that makes the mealymouthed prayers of the 'Holy ." Vatican smell like a dog fart, my Little Connie "Lucky for you
I
.
"All
of this"-Connie looked out
for
it
has a
"You
blessing, dear
Father' in the
.
at the gigantic artifact building itself
some kind of prison?" A Conspiracy concentration camp ... a camp without guards
around them-"is going "Exactly.
.
pipe-somehow
life
to trap us?
It's
own ... it is its own guards like my Mom," Connie observed.
of its
talk just
.
." .
my
"Did you know
Mom? Betty Furnace? She used to talk about the Yacatisma and used you did say 'not to be confused with Yacatizma' just the same way .
"Bob" turned
to her
and
hand on her head, ruffling her allowing ashes from his pipe to drop
laid a
he said tenderly, her eyes, "Yes, I knew your mother. Betty was-"
gently. "Yes,"
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
to ."
.
hair
into
283
John Shirley
284 199619971998
He was
interrupted by an explosion.
There was a narrow section of ground—narrowing more as the concentration
camp
construct creaked and shuddered nearer—four stories
beneath their roof edge. violet
and
had erupted, a
smoke
sulfur-yellow
towered over them
It
like
opening
fissure
in
that geysered upward, a furious
a Djinn
.
.
.
and a
sort of Djinn
it
was
to gout
it
spew .
.
Connie and "Bob" staggered backwards ("Bob" had a
Little
that
.
quality
about him of having planned to stagger or stumble though he couldn't possibly have planned
of the
stink
.
.
as
it,
.),
Connie
clinging to "Bob," choking in the
rotten-eggs-mixed-with-semitruck-smoke
the
thing,
chamber stench of
it
its
rolling
mass shaped into
.
gas-
.
.
AH'OOGAH!" "Bob" shouted. "Hie Smog Monster!" "YOU MUST NOT INTERFERE WITH THE GESTATION!" came a "It is
the one called
voice from within the foul whirlwind.
It
was a voice belched from
"TRY YOUR
haust pipes and smokestacks ... a voice without a muffler.
FAMOUS LUCK OUT ON DEATH ITSELF!" And AH'OOGAH swung toward them like
ex-
a tornado wielded as a
hammer— —as "Bob" grabbed Connie's hand and stumbled with her off the edge of the roof.
She was
And
falling.
then the
She was his
The Earth rushed up at her Earth was above her. The ground was .
falling
up
to
"Bob" was beside
head thrown back, the pipe clenched
her,
.
.
still
a sort of ceiling
holding her hand,
in his teeth
gushing a loco-
motive cloud of blue (and green-sparkled) smoke that surrounded
them, made her choke with she inhaled
it,
cloying incense
.
.
.
but
somehow
as
a certain ethereal clarity created a magnification lens
and she saw that "Bob," through the medium of
for her perceptions, this
its
envelope of smoke, was clearing a path of some sort for them.
All this she perceived in the half-second
to the
And
ground
.
.
it
took them to
lessly
all
matter, mostly
and the space came together around them so they passed harm-
through, and
emerged—
—in the midst of a
city.
was hung from above
like
glued to the
The
them,
upward
then they struck the ground, which was, despite appearing un-
yielding as concrete, a mist, an atomic illusion like
space,
fall
.
ceiling.
down toward
Downward
into an upside-down
one of those
trick
city.
The
city
rooms where the chairs are down. They fell past
buildings were upside
the sky.
And
then her stomach flip-flopped,
Really, Really, Really,
fol-
Weird Stories
John Shirley
199619971998
lowed by her perceptions,
as suddenly sky
and they were ascending,
levitating
They ceased ascending,
alighting
corner,
where
of them,
it
blocked
smoked an
Feeling detached
traffic
and ground changed places upward from the ground. on the roof of a bus laying over on a
and the crosswalk. The
driver,
unaware
angel dust joint and massaged his crotch.
and
and weirdly bodiless-and yet not at all dreamlike-Connie looked around, and knew that the city had been viviobjective
sected for her.
The
skin of
its
consensus
the pulsing inner organs of ships,
and she recognized
"Where's the
reality
had been peeled away; she saw
the skein of
it,
hidden organic
its
it all.
Smog Monster?" Connie
"Hundreds of miles from
asked.
"Bob"
here,"
"We took
said.
a shortcut
through the Luck Plane. By the time the Rebel Gods find us
With
late.
now
relation-
it'll
be too
luck."
"Luck cuts both ways, "Bob","
Little
Connie
said.
"Litde Connie, you were always too old for your age," "Bob" replied,
through his ceaseless
was
grin. "I
Where two and
there.
Can you not
feel
my hands
was absent when you grew up and
my name,
three gather in in
your pockets?
.
.
.
am
there
I
yet
I
also:
Notice anything about
this place?"
Connie was the great
mus
city,
staring at a
crowd of people
milling
on the sidewalks of
people on their way somewhere, oblivious of the
of Sales and his charge atop the bus, and she saw
of coruscating lines were connecting
some of
now
Ipsissi-
that a series
the people in the crowd;
they were like translucent puppet strings of energy, defining relationships the people in the
crowd were
entirely
to herds within the herd; to culmral phyla
what they supposed
whose
of.
They belonged
attributes
to be their freewheeling impulses.
closer at those people she
them
unaware
saw past
governed
And
looking
their superficial semblances,
saw
as they could not see one another: as they really were. There were
men who were ten-foot giants from women who were revealed as twisted harridans, and hunchbacked, shrunken old women who were acmally the stately winners of beauty contests; there were bankers who were acmally tall
men who were
Hell; there
giant
dwarfs and short
were beautiful
worms with lamprey mouths, and
who were
really
werewolves
there were smiling, friendly cops
in Nazi-SS uniforms; there
was a
priest
who
was a mincing drag queen and there was a mincing drag queen who was a genius of dizzying mathematical perceptions. She saw four men in tailored suits
coming out of a Hilton, approaching,
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
their forty-foot eight-
285
John Shirley
286 199619971998
who wore
wheeled limousine. They were surrounded by bodyguards
black suits and sunglasses; looking beyond their veneers she saw that the
men
in the suits
and oozing their
were hideous slug-bodied things of palpitating
suckers,
hungry
aliens
tendrils
with the mouths of giant horseflies;
bodyguards were robots, she saw, things of sheer intent and noth-
ing more. She shivered, and
was
grateful that "Bob's" psychic cloaking
screen protected her from being seen.
Then "Bob" took her hand, and blew a plume of smoke above them, which somehow drew them with it into the air. Like a sex-changed and depraved Mary Poppins, Dobbs drew Little Connie higher and higher into the sky,
till
they reached the thirteenth-story
There they
level.
drifted along, paralleling the impatient procession of traffic, gazing
down
at a
whole new web of
interrelationships.
greater height, the oscillating blueprint of the
on
Connie saw, from
this
Luck Plane superimposed
the street. She saw which cars were likely to collide (but weren't nec-
essarily destined to)
and which were
likely to
make
it
home
she saw which individuals would
fall
into the conditioning quicksand,
and which would instead
in
unscathed;
with drug addicts and be sucked
fundamentalist preacher or the deadly programming of network sion; she
would
.
.
televi-
saw which ones would accidentaUy become wealthy, and which .
Wait. There ships as
a
likely fall to
it
was something more: She saw the skein of
stretched out to the event horizon
.
.
interrelation-
she saw something
.
hideous and something glorious taking shape out there
.
she saw
.
.
.
.
.
Saucers.
She blinked, and looked back
saw a few who were making havoc of the
at the present.
Amongst
crowd she
the
like self-propelling steel balls in a pinball
rules,
others strove for regimentary order. There was something about that
game,
introducing a Brownian motion where the
them
reminded her of her mother—could they be the ones Mother had
described?
The other
race hidden
amongst the humans ... the
privi-
leged and divinely aberrant ... the SubGenius? "I
see
Untribal. "I
you perceive your
Do
you
tribe,"
also see the
"Bob" told
webs of
her.
"The
tribe of the
probability.'^"
do."
"Then keep your eyes on them and we're dive-bombing the Luck Plane!"
And
learn. Little
Connie
.
.
.
because
with that "Bob" dove down, straight down, rocketing headfirst
ward the bus
they'd alighted
ing the stream of
traffic.
on
earlier.
The bus had moved
And now they entered
on,
was
to-
enter-
the bus through the roof—
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
199619971998
passing through
as
it
were the skin of a soap bubble. "Bob" came to a
if it
screeching stop in the
over the driver, floating beside a sign that said,
air
"PINKVILLE VOCATIONAL
SCHOOL IS A STEP UP TO MORE WORK!" "Bob" reached out and tapped the back of the man's head w^ith his pipe tapped it precisely. In a particular spot. .
.
.
The man shuddered, and the flow of
"Uh car.
oncoming
oh!" "Bob" said, grinning.
and jerked the
vs^heel to
the
left into
"I
made
a mistake. Accident.
Wrong
We're going to cr—
Crash, as the bus ling
giggled,
traffic.
so
it
it
rammed
was shaped
like
the forty-foot limo they'd seen a boomerang.
buck-
earlier,
The limo spun and struck a power station
semitruck, which swerved and drove through the wall of a
enormous transformers, causing a short circuit which caused a mighty power surge (Connie could see all this taking and crashed
into a set of
shape on the Luck Plane
like
a video animation) which roared through
the wires to an airport a hundred miles away garbling the transmissions
of the
crammed with
who went into
wrong
signals to
be sent to a
undersecretaries of the Trilateral
Commission
air traffic controllers
Learjet
causing the
a screaming panic
when
the plane,
its
computer controls
confused, veered wildly and went out of control, going into a
nosing
down
.
.
tailspin,
crashing thunderously into the industrial park where
.
Connie had met "Bob." The cargo of nanotechnological submolecular reprogramming proteins the undersecretaries had been carrying to Washington exploded along with the hundreds of gallons of
fuel in the
plane's tanks, spreading in a diffuse cloud over the living concentration
camp
the
construct,
nanoprogramming molecules
with
colliding
submolecular guidance systems for the minatory mechanism, reprogram-
ming
it-quite by lucky accident-into a complete reversal of the process,
so that the living concentration
camp began
to deconstruct itself
.
.
.
and
in so doing released another cloud of deprogramming nanotech molecules that drifted over the land, reversing the process wherever they
encountered
it
.
.
.
"Whew!" "Bob"
"That was
said.
"Young Miss, how would you
lucky."
like to visit
He
turned to
Little
your brothers and
Connie. sisters in
Malaysia?"
"Brothers and
"Not
at
all.
sisters?
You're
But I'm an only
my
daughter.
child!"
You have hundreds of
brothers and
products of the Supreme Seed, thriving in Dobbstown, learning, would you like to meet them?" awaiting X-Day sisters,
.
"You're
my
.
.
.
.
.
Dad?"
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
287
John Shirley
288 199619971998
"Yes!" "Shit!
The
What a disappointment
.
.
eternal grin almost wavered.
"You'll like
your brothers and
spectful as
you
And
so,
are.
.
Mom told me you were a rock star." Then he
sisters,"
"Bob"
ruffled her hair tenderly. said.
"They're just as disre-
Care for some 'Prop?"
borne on a purposeful plume of green-sparkled
blue, they
rose from the twisted wreckage of the traffic accident, oblivious to the
screams of the approaching their
way
sirens,
and hurried on
into the year 1996,
on
and 1998 unfold where, clearly and far away,
to a date with destiny, seeing the years 1997
ahead of them,
like
a place in the distance,
the Saucers were landing
.
.
.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Preach
The
following was recorded as the tragic events of February loth, 1999,
New Gate
unfolded at the
sermon of a tive
Chapel, near Redding, California, during the
visiting minister.
The Reverend Johnny
Ess.
observations are interpolated by a recording engineer with literary
pretensions,
one Marzo Deafstein:
The Reverend Ess was a
lean, fiftyish
man, with a rumpled
snakeskin cowboy boots, a day's growth of beard, a hands, a
He had
.
whole
TV
here to talk about sin
channel
.
.
.
But he could
got
suffer
damn
and the payment
sin,
hick. it's
Dodge up on
bad our own
No, no need true,
lickin'
sure,
with great
your
for sin.
And I know
I
lips.
sin, I
look out
Now
at
it's
Really, Really, Really,
all,
nights
though.
We
makes us
all
each to his best and deepest capacity.
y'all,
the
tests us
my Daddy
some
My situation wasn't so bad,
ask you,
I
you can
wince of embarrass-
I'm an Arkansas Po'bucker;
special way; the Lord
particularity,
with some of y'all,
for that
cinder blocks in front yard, and
Tests us and tests us. There ain't
Now, when
preach, right
still
He started out saying, 'Tm
My name is The Reverend Johnny Ess, E for Every, S
to steal chickens to eat. it
.
.
Lord knows
kept a rusting
.
for sssssssssertainly. Sure, that's kind of funny,
and S
laugh, I'm just a folks,
.
." .
I'm here to talk about
know it intimately.
we had
.
seen better times, having lost his one-time multimillion dollar
ministry, a
ment,
suit,
tremble in his
rounding of his shoulders and something singularly alive something that kept pulsing its way to other parts of him
through an accent thick as rancid butter
for Sin,
little
little
in his hips,
all
General narra-
no cheatin' on that test. and I say sin, some of you is
are almost
that the appropriate response?
way it was with me:
Weird Stories
there's
no
Why
relief with-
John Shirley
290 Preach out sin and there's no real party as
from bigtime
trates first in this part tell
is
bereft of
be.
No
Are you thinkin' ings about sin ...
fun,
my babe, no
And it,
relief, it
comes
fun that concen-
NO FUN—and
life is
me not
fun.
redneck Biblethumper don't
this
it's
know
turkeydropp-
?
[At this point the Reverend this as
on
of the body and then that part. Well now: Let
you something, our sweet Lord's eternal
supposed to
relief.
fun, fun with weightlifter muscles
became
We
increasingly agitated.
took
a tent-revivalist working himself up to a passion of charisma
and outpouring. But
was something jumpy, twitchy about it. was reminded of something: When I was a kid my parents used to take me to a gas station and at this station was a menagerie— they used to allow this in the '^os—and there was some moth-eaten monkeys and one truly miserable leopard. This big cat had been in a cage about as big as a Volkswagen Bug for twenty some years and it showed a certain twitchiness, a certain exotic fusion you knew it would of advanced decay and bottled, boiling energy kill people if it ever got out I used to whisper to it, 'Td do it to ."] them for ya if I could there
Watching the Reverend Ess
I
.
.
.
Let
me
sinned.
I
tell
you,
my
have been up to
and the discharging of the
I
.
.
.
.
friends,
Brea Tarpit of Life—and
.
oh
yes,
good Lord
forgive
my neck in SENSE-YOU-ALITY, senses;
it is
me
yes
I
have
in the charging
have sunk myself in that particular La
I
only thanks to our sweet precious Lord that
have escaped that ravenous suction, that tarpit suction that seemed to
on my lower parts and suck and SUCK until it drew the LIFE OUT OF ME. Yes, I know sin. I won't tell you what my sins were— oh yes, I could talk about my time as a counselor at a girl's camp hell, fourteen, fifteen year old girls, soft as little kittens, out there on the aching side of that mountain where the smell of the pines seemed to call me out every night to prowl the fasten itself
.
cabins like a cougar will
I
.
.
.
But no.
.
It's
.
best that sin remains hidden. Neither
befoul your ears with the long nights in bars and brothels, yes and
of rutting with marijuana dreaming whores in puddles of vomit— I can-
not bring myself to mention
name
is
LEGION
[The Reverend
back and forth,
cried the
is
it.
Those numberless
Whore
faceless
WHORES—my
of Babylon!
ignoring the microphone on the podium,
his voice really
is
strutting
booming— then going soft all of a sudden Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley .
.
we
but
.
Preach
could hear every word, though there was
in that fairly sizeable church
...
.
.
every whispered
.
five
word
.
hundred of us .
J
never think of those whores now; those whores of argent hair
I
and ebony pubes, of eyes
wander the space between you
that
like
And YES I KNOW THE DEVIL'S SNOW! YES YES I KNOW THE DEVIL'S SNOW! that crystal LILITH, that medicinal tasting temptresss COCAINE, yes LORRRRRRD, I know cocaine-preferably cocaine cut with a little smack-and I have flown through CLOUDS OF COCAINE and yes, yes, yes I know sin and midges.
.
I
cannot
tell
you about
New Orleans condo,
it.
.
That night on the
tar-roof of Bluesteak Billy's
and
that crazed mightily-pierced teenyboppstress
I,
on angel dust— the irony of that name angel And mad wdth peeceepee driving my degraded engorged manhood again and again into that hysterically laughing
the both of us gone wild dust,
but
can you imagine!
punk rock lightnin' I
will
whore—1979
bitch
unzipped the
not
tell
it
was— as
the rain lashed us and the
sky!!
you of
But you can take
it.
my word
for
it.
I
know
sin.
know the DEVIL PERSONALLY. And you feminist ladies, you pomo homo feminist ladies, you think there's a PATRIARCHY here on Earth—you don't know phallocentricism till you get to HELL because Satan is a gonna make you dance around a steaming phalAnd
I
postmodern
lus in the
green and gold flames of RETRIBUTION.
Satan, ladies,
is
no
sensitive Berkeley male.
But get up to Heaven—and you find that Jesus and Mother Mary are
and don't you, don't you, don't you fool yourself into no money in Heaven—was there ever anyplace worth
receiving equal pay
thinking there's
being for long without money? You see unit of the other.
Money is
money and
a unit of faith and
if
faith—wellsir,
you
one
is
a
give the Ministry of
the Reverend Johnny Ess one dollar then you have one dollar's worth of faith;
and when you
faith;
and when you
him
give
give
five dollars
him
five
you have
hundred
five dollars
dollars that's
DRED MOTHERFUCKIN' DOLLARS WORTH OF
worth of
FIVE
HUN-
FAITH redeemable
at
the gate of Heaven.
As
in
Luke verse
unto Simon, "Seest thou gavest tears,
me no
"And mrning
forty-four,
water for
this
my
woman?
feet
and wiped them with her
hath not ceased to KISS
I
to the
entered into thine house, thou
my feet with me no kiss but
but she hath wetted hair.
Thou
gavest
MY FEET."
Folks that's nothing less than the right attitude.
Really, Really, Really,
woman he-Jesus-said
Weird Stories
her she
291
John Shirley
292 Preach
And
you think a Faith Payment
if
and gendemen you forget
that
I
a questionable investment ladies
is
have the God-given power to SEE
INTO
YOUR SOULS and—right here I can see your heart before me like a devil's dinner on a plate and I can tell you—you sir!—that the heart I see within your breast, the soul quivering on that plate—it .
.
.
MAKES ME SICK!
It
Imagine seeing a quivering cube of Jell-O and instead of
fruit salad
there are maggots, the maggots of sin, quivering in that cube of Jell-O
LORD HELP ME TURN AWAY! Yes you And you young lady
and
.
.
.
.
.
.
I'm a lookin' into your heart young miss and YES
THAT POWER PRAISE GOD FOR IT, naked
the
power
HE HAS GIVEN ME
to see the
naked
... the
truth.
And in your heart, young lady I see-LORD NO, I MUST LOOK AWAY, demon's face
for that grinning, quivering bearded clam of a
and
laughin' hysterically at
on a
tar
And
cuse
[A
me
.
.
.
spit,
while
I
it
away!
see a quivering bucket of tarantulas
I
see an eel pie with
I
overflowing with
livin' eels
and
in this
like
silence
.
.
And yet
between the walls
a sonic
.
.
hope. There
.
boom
And yet
is
I
.
He
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
soft
but audible even
She
is
here, she
is
for
you
here with me,
for wimess, I'm askin'
tell
you
.
.
who
to take
.
that there
is
I
cleans the heart
up
life
loves force
and force
is
There
sinful rear
AC/DC
is
and you do
God's grace again!
can transmit her to you, and I'm
you to get up off your
CLEANSING CURRENT and
help.
and take and take
the power, the nonsatirical power, the
for
the
.]
I'm hear to
now
and
and then thundering through
a Heavenly housekeeper
she's here right
see a spitoon
stares at the floor boards
not have to pay taxes for her Social Security, because she
and
in
retch.
then looks up, begins again in a quieter voice
room
one
and
phlegm, cigar butts and marijuana roaches!! Ex-
moment of shaken
to the creatures
a laughin'
me like a punk rock bitch with her legs spread
take
man's heart
in this
one
this
LORD NO,
roof
is
askin'
ends and wimess
electricity
of God's
NO NO NO don't you fear the trade in lives
loves
life
for this
wedding in heaven was made
with the victim as bride to life life itself, yes I'm OD'd on life, ETERNAL UFE OF THE GOOD LORD JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY! I can feel him, I can FEEL HIM, I can feel his power in this room with right now and it's lightin' up my spirit like a Christmas tree GOOD in Hell
the
us
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Preach 293
GOD THANK YOU for pulling me out of that sucking pit of eternal desire and I'm begging you
right
now lord to
help
these sinners right here up from that
me pull and pull again
same
.
.
.
pull
stinking black tarpit that
is
ROOF OF HELL, Lord let your power rise up in me RIGHT NOW, Lord let me pull their souls from the pit and lord let me TOUCH THEM DEEP WriHIN THEIR MOST PRIVATE RECESSES-CAN YOU FEEL IT my friends there's hope here tonight—TOUCH ME AND FEEL IT, the
TOUCH ME AND CHRIST and [As leave
.
.
FEEL
FEEL
IT,
FEEL
IT,
IT, praise Jesus
some disgusted twentysomething who'd come for a
lark decides to
.]
.
.
FUCKING
.
Now
waitaminnut
now where
the
you goin' you young
Hell
X piece of ephemeral human trash! You come up here and TOUCH ME and you GET A CFL\NCE AT ETERNAL SERVICE or BY GOD you will pay the price RIGHT NOW and wait a GODDAMN MINUTE, you two! You are offended, reckon, that sourpussed Generation
is
I
[The Reverend hesitates thing
.
Well
.
.
.
seems
.
to
make up
his
mind about some-
.[
FUCK YA!
Because you're going
straight to
HELL with the rest of us!
[A final hesitation and then he speaks with meth-amped rapidity
I
folks,
AND WE
ON
.
.
J
and payment-tonight money won't be tonight we pay in lives! We pay in LIVES and in BLOOD
spoke of money and
enough
it?!
faith
for our SINS because
PAY
and neither can you, the
hypocrites with
me
least
straight to
I
I
cannot,
can do
I
is
cannot,
take
I
CANNOT GO
some of you fucking
HELL—
Reverend pulled the M-16 with the custom doubleclip from inside the back of the podium and opened up on the audience, screaming at them as he fired, killing some two dozen people
[And
it
was then
the
before the Sheriff burst
in, firing
as he came,
and
the
Reverend shouted
something about sucking the Angel Gabriel's bluesteel member and behind stuck the gun in his mouth and blew his brains all over the cross the
podium
.
.
.[
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Preach: Part Two:
The Apocalypse of The Reverend John Shirley Truly,
seen
I
it;
say unto you, in a
paper have First
I
I
seen
into
I
have seen
it:
THIS
in
one aspect
see under a
many
dome,
is
dream of I
seen here
sticky sheets
women and
whom some
damaged with
and
THE CON-
call
Industrial
swimming
children, blackened
I
foretell:
ALSO: Military
lo,
have
in the daily new^s-
it;
in a welter of yellow cloud,
Complex;
dipping
its
heads
in terror in those
shriveled with cancer
toxins,
and
in great suffer-
were boiling the war-mutilated, and the
in other troughs
bombed; and the heads of the glasses,
and some wore dark
capped
teeth,
trils
Beast,
called
they were; even were they brain
And
in a
troughs round about, and
troughs were
ing.
it:
HAVE SEEN, and
I
saw the many-headed
SPIRACY, and this
I
golden haze of sacred frop have
M.I.C. Beast
glasses,
wore toupees and dandruffed
and designer
and Rolex watches pierced
and some had
shirts,
their nostrils,
even those nos-
marked with much drinking of good Scotch; and on
were golf caps and yet were they without arms, and
truly
their
heads
without dicks
except that their heads were dicks, but had only the bodies of serpents,
and tongues
were whips of many
that
name: Pension, was one Salary a third; "Shut
other marked, and
And one and
its
up or
we'll
of these heads was called, in those days. General Electric;
eyes were of television sets, of to the
lies
NBC
daytime and night-time pro-
number
five million.
of these heads was called General Motors, and Ford by some,
and by others Chrysler; and metalflake raising
from the rectum ertheless
each lash with a different
truly.
gramming, and here were
And one
lashes,
Group Health Insurance was another; blow your fucking brains out" was an-
called;
itself
that
I
saw
this
head of chrome-plate and
so to vomit laid-off workers even as
was
knew murder;
also
also
it
its
mouth
it
laughed, and
excreted faulty tanks, which nev-
excreted faulty cars, and a great
Really, REALLi', Really,
smog
that
Weird Stories
John Shirley
The Apocalypse
Preach: Part Two:
choked the world, and brought the world
.
.
.
into a slow roasting like unto a
barbecue chicken, which in those days was called Global Warming.
And
who
laughs even unto the
pesticides
and herbicides sicken
another was called Chemical Industry;
bank as children
and whose
die in Bhopal;
the land, and produce great famines,
And another of these and was
called
heads was
whereupon the people
shape of a pentagon,
five-sided, to the
ROACH BRAINED SHAMBLER;
starve.
head reached beyond
its
on a mouse, end was almost bigger than the mouse, and a repugnant
the trough to suck the strength from the land, like a leech
which
in the
sight withal.
which were
And
tongue was also a rectum, and poisons
its
in those days called military toxic
waste and nuclear waste
and hidden radioactive contamination, and these
spew of paperwork, the
who
offspring,
all
and
in
its
which
And and the
its
skull are the
tooth had truly it
one
will
this,
and other
atroci-
and Pz Nazi conspiracy network
of secret intelligence, also called
much power and
And
who
machine men,
greets with great joy.
called also Israeli Intelligence,
killed these
was
was a garbage
men buried alive in trenches, and burned alive, and
not a
spawn Death Squads and
and
brainless
its
then another head there was, called CIA/Russian Intelligence,
world
too
it
are
throat
a great foul laughter will rise up within the Beast at ties
concealed in a great
who
Eternity Lieutenant Calley throws a switch to
grind up the innocents, and in
order other machine
it
nests of featherless birds
are called Bureaucrats;
wherein for
disposal,
excreted,
it
many
its it
and
years ago, forever
name:
was
clue, truly,
torture,
and these
trough
shall in their
in their jaws
I
see a President,
ground between molars,
each
as
Department, and FBI, and CIA Black Ops
Justice
also
in
by some Bumbling Idiots with
CRACK COCAINE CONTRAFUNDING, and
also
called Mafia Connection, and Secret Nazi Power.
sprouting beside this head, and in obscene congress with
called
and one
Cocaine
Cartel, in
called Heroin,
whose trough a
and others of
it,
was
million children suffered;
their like,
and they were
CIA, and yet had they agendas unto themselves, and
like
unto
much murder and
bloody masturbation.
And I saw these heads
also
on
the Beast:
Who is called Vatican; who is
Muslim Fundamentalist Lunatics; who is called Media (the Blinding One, the Liar who makes Satan look like Mother Teresa); who is called
Multinational Oil Conglomerates; and try;
who is called Congress,
who
called Health
Care Indus-
Whore and
Harlot; and
the slut Politicia, the
International Arms Trade; and Mindless
the Servants of Mao, and Pol Pot,
Really, Really, Really,
is
Communism known
who wallow in
Weird Stories
to
men
as
butchery; and the body
295
296 Preach: Part Two:
The Apocalypse
.
John Shirley
.
known
of the beast did also have a name, and was
as
who
he
is
the Stu-
Common Man, and under its belly will the children Man sleep, and sleep will hold them in bondage. Common
pefaction of the the
And Uz
shall play a benefit,
barrassing ineptitude
on
its
whereupon the Beast
clawed
and
feet;
also
will
of
dance with em-
Guns
seen to play, and even unto the one called Sting, and others
N
Roses are
who
shall
be
known as hypocritical ass kissers. And the Sacred Motorhead shall not be asked to play; nor the Saint Iggy Pop; neither Henry Rollins nor The Band That Dare Not Speak Its Name; nor Captain Beefheart, nor the Frank and the Zappa. But there
one not
shall
just party,
in the
be two
and one
shall
burning
mud
outside the
be joyous, and
will
their divine toxicity,
it,
come with
stir-frying,
and yet
latter will
sky,
and
will
party
which with
yet their death
exquisite contortions in the throes of
even as their
astral
forms are released, and they
thereupon enter the waiting saucers of the
dome
and these
dome, and under the
them even unto
Beast trapped within the
be within the dome, and
will perish first,
but will party the hell out of
ultraviolets shall scorch will
parties;
and the one outside the dome
outside;
will perish
Xists,
and know
that the
without rescue: The Beast
with one foot upon the golf course and the other upon the Resort which is
called
Palm Beach, and
its tail
upon
Beverly Hills and thence across
Moscow, and its Lowermost Rectum (for it has of
the pesticide-slain sea to Tokyo, even to Peking and
groin resting
on Manhattan, and
these a multitude) pierced by the
its
World Trade Center, doubly and with
hemorrhoids to the number ten thousand, and ness and blandness flourish, and this mediocrity itself,
which
in this party shall dull-
become
a toxic liquid in
and choke those who sport with the Beast
will thicken
be-
dome itself—this I have seen, verily—prevents with its ovm hell-wrought insularity, who might
neath the dome, while the the entry of the saucers
have rescued Privilege like
some few
in their mercy, but
by the
were prevented, and so those beneath the
Robert Alton Harris
in the gas
chamber, or
Dome dome like
of Class and
perished, even
unto obscenely
squirming termite queens in poisoned walls.
These things
I
have seen, before the
the Sacred Scribe record them, and
end times approach, and
fact,
let
and outside of Time; and
Pink
Men
let
take warning: For the
they're just the beginning, dumbshit.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Modern Transmutations OF THE Alchemist
She struck him
as precisely
now. The musician
would
sit
on
in her
pitch as he can: exactly thus, precisely
hand had
little
and
tell
say,
"Now, you see
on swallows
that curveted like
beauty, hear music in
and then he would compose feel the
what you
lax with
one of those long-legged
brunette.
The
was huddled
rat
little
in
its
itself like
see, as
his fa-
stunt planes,
He would
Papa used to
escorts
a rat finishing a maze
so, like fix
himself a martini and
from
re-
Marseilles, preferably a
who pokes its nose over his shoulder,
sharing his drink,
cage in a nondescript corner of the pet shop behind a
revolving rack of collars
and
leashes.
It
wrapped the stench of
the cloak of a rodent king as
soaked sawdust on the
tin floor.
it
cage
its
rolled in the excrement-
The cage was bare except for the mason
of water in one corner, and a handful of sawdust and droppings
heaped before the wire-mesh seen another
rat. It
gate.
The
occupant had never
cage's sole
had been separated from
its
parents and family be-
had opened, a measure the shop ovmer thought necessary prevent the cannibalization of the rat by its mother who had eaten her
fore to
from
drastically uninspired jazz. Afterwards,
need to reward himself;
with a drink of sweetened water, he would
jar lid
villa (a gift
himself that he should be inspired to music by them.
he would
around
confidence in himself; he
with the Symphony de Paris) and watch the slow billow of
clouds or the light fading
say,"
on
the balcony of his Mediterranean
ther, a soloist
who
in the face with the deliberation of a musician
makes each note
its
eyes
other offspring
alive.
The only
indication given the rat of the existence
of other sentient beings was the occasional face at chirrupings of other
sounds
it
rats;
and though
responded to them with
white snout wriggled and the daily arrival of yellow
Really, Really, Really,
its
its
it
did not
its
own meager
scaly pink
tail
cage door, and the
know what made peeps, while
rasped.
It
dirty
did not associate
mash through the door with the
Weird Stories
its
the
care of a living
298
Modern Transmutations of the Alchemist presumed
creature. It
it
to
tions in temperature that
John Shirley
be a phenomenon
made
fluff
it
up
its
as natural as the fluctua-
when someone
coarse fur
opened the door of the shop in cold weather. After a while it did not answer the rat-calls from the contiguous cages, so their hollow squeaks
man who was
vibrated alone in the thin tin walls like the jaw of the
The man
slapped with the deliberation of a musician.
closed his eyes, putting his hand to his face almost as
if
flinched
and
to clasp the fin-
handmark left by the blow. He stifled a welling curse that he knew would only make her angrier. Instead, he decided to lower his gers of the red
eyes as
her
if
he were martyred. She crossed her arms over her chest and
lips to
keep from
vulnerable. She
still
therefore
drew
cheek-hollows year.
Her
all
crying.
She did not want him to
had gray-blue eyes which
phin.
made up gaunt
felt
the
like
first
had hoped
ocean foam around a
embrace of the Mediterra-
cliildren.
She
to
lie
there awhile to rest, but with a start
rigid,
almost motionless mercuric brushstroke darted from her
into her lungs, using
them
series of
two more quick
memory
it,
breaths,
She raised
to press the second offspring free as her
blew them sweetly
air
body
out, like the musician blow-
With two quick breaths the
gave birth to the second run of his latest improvisation.
wring each note for
American
belly.
she sucked cool
tympanic throbs. She trembled, relieved, and took
ing tunes through his flute.
Frellen, the
he leaps
blue hide
her back arched, straightened and an
her blowhole above the water-line and, dilating
tion:
lover:
silver
Mediterranean parted for her torpedo blunt snout).
spaceship body went
ing, trying to
re-
lay in the shallows, her
cymbal clash with the sun. The image broke from her
shook with a
dol-
a long time in Arctic waters but had
pangs of labor (and a searing image of her
as the surface of the
Her
that
she ducked her head the
out of the green face of a cresting wave, his scaleless striking a
and
the paler sand, her blue dorsal fin just six inches above the
bluer water. She
she
when
in the uterine
turned to her birthplace to have her
on
German models
in the fashion of
eyes were incised with eyeliner;
The dolphin luxuriated The dolphin had been
pale belly
reflected nothing
other eyes to them. She had high cheekbones and
copper of her hair boiled round her face
nean.
bit
know that she was
its
guitar player,
moisture.
He
jazz
He
musician
was sweat-
paused, and saw that
had the audience's complete
atten-
grandstanding as usual, gyrating about the stage. Frellen invariably
stole his thunder,
then had the nerve to weep on his shoulder about yet
another fight with his wife.
"I
hope she
to himself. His bitterness distracted
him again tonight," he said long enough to make him catch up he caught a dishearten-
slaps
him
miss his cue. As he frantically sought to
just
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Modern Transmutations of the Alchemist
John Shirley
ing glimpse of the band's manager scowling at
look on Michel's
rodent with that look—gave the rat
to
chasing
its
own
one corner of
him from the wings. The
face—the son-of-a-whore could make you
fat
tail
in panic.
flutist
The
a sensation in his stomach
squealed
rat
cage, turning to lash at the
its
pink thing, the hand that clutched
at
feel like a
it.
The
its
terror
and
like
a
scuttled
monstrous five-headed
rat hadn't believed the uni-
verse could be breached; that the vague fluttering in the non-existence
beyond the bars could be concretely nervous
trill
of a
flute,
claw, awful in furlessness, to
the universe.
The
rat
and gleaming metal. its frail
a
scoop
was plunged It
real.
With a gut sensation
the rat fainted long it
enough
up and
fly
beyond the confines of
into a kaleidoscope of
brown cardboard box. The its
rat
responded
red eyes, and shivered.
this one barer than the
first.
gratefully to the enclosing
From one Universe
woman's hips
and forth
in her black dress as she
in the apartment.
to another,
A lid clamped over the box and the rat sank
into a rhythmically pendulous darkness just like the
mind
gawking faces
saw, briefly, the universe from the outside, until
perceptions began to dissolve. But the hand lowered the rat into
walls, closed
haired
the
like
for a massive pink
motion of a red
walked impatiently back
Waiting for her husband to return home, her
seethed; but one thought recurred clearly: retribution. Frellen
left
her alone for two months four times this year to tour with his band as
its
would
in-
lead guitar. terfere
He
had refused
to take her along, claiming that
with his dedication to the band. But at
he had promised to go away no more. plans for parties, to
them.
And
make arrangements
He
if it
"I'll
show him
just
what he
two of
were only an inconve-
be leaving again "for a short tour,"
would
must be canceled.
much argument, to make
had allowed her
for trips to Paris, just the
then he'd told her offhandedly, as
nience, that he
last, after
it
is,
to treat
and
all
plans
me
as
if
my
I'm a dog to be kenneled." She stamped her foot,
needs are nothing,
like
her
silver slippers
jumping
slid
around the
like
baby dolphins. The dolphin's offspring
flute-player's legs as
he stood in the surf
in his stiff tux-
edo, stiff with drunkenness, holding a bottle of sherry and a long platinum flute that flickered in the sunset like the flashing fin of a fish. He did not see the dolphins yet, as they zipped his knees.
Nor
like electric
toy trains around
did he notice the protective bulk of their
a few yards away.
He swayed, murmuring
threatening to force
mother basking
to himself (that bastard Frellen
him out of the band). And suddenly the
flute
seemed a threat, and its touch repugnant to him. Hating himself, he threw the flute into the sea. He watched it disappear into the blue waters like a fading smile.
Really, Really, Really,
He
Uirned to stagger up onto the deserted
Weird Stories
299
300
Modern Transmutations
of the Alchemist
beach, suddenly wanting a bed to hide
when something sharp,
steps
and jerked
in.
a broken
John Shirley
He had taken several unsteady cut his bare foot. He yelped
shell,
and made
arms of the
his foot up, lost his balance, fell into the
water closed over his head, burned his eyes with his
formal
backwards and he
suit
slid
a burden.
salt,
The
surf.
chafed his lungs
A swift undercurrent
siphoned him
downm the slope of sand. His head
swam from
drink and he drank the sea, sobered but despairing as the twilight was
sucked into darkness and he was sucked downward. But he
pushed him
felt
thing
thump him from beneath,
face,
and then onto the sand above the lapping tongues of
as the dolphin
coughed, spat saltwater and laughed:
up
to death. But the sea
had sent
on
its
He
water.
fine a musician to waste;
laughed. But the laughter froze real
had pushed him from the
turned and looked into the sea, seeking out his rescuer.
TTien the old
in the sunset, rocking like
man opened
mother and two dart surf,
He
he remembered: something
waves neoned red
His eyes were dolphins,
They followed one another in the shallow
He
describing a lazy figure-eight with their wakes.
his pockets,
black
suit.
shorts,
The
an old man's sleepy head.
his silver-blue eyes.
children.
He
surf.
He was alive! He had given himself
had thought him too
servants to rescue him.
his face as
some-
to the sur-
put his hands in
laughed to find a small crab, and then peeled off his soaked
He was warmed
by the evening breeze. Stripped
he threw the soggy clothes away
like his
down
to his
anger at Frellen and
work with the band. He looked at the dolphin and tried to think of some way to ask her why she had saved him. As he watched her he saw something bright flashing from her snout. The dolphin came nearer and he saw that she held his flute in her mouth. Placing his steps very carefully, he walked into the surf and took the flute. The dolphin seemed unafraid and watched him with curiosity as he dried the flute with the bow tie he had thrown on the beach, before he'd gone into the A4ichel, his
water.
He
He
tried the flute;
sat cross-legged
blew a
fluteplayer's eyes closed,
He
just
As he put down
news tin.
He gaped
looks
just like
and
tails,
He
began
and the percussion of the
Frellen's
to play.
at her in real
you," she
his
open the door. She
on her long
she said, "Welcome home.
child."
The
and opened the door. His wife
the expression that he'd anticipated
had your
surf.
hand closed on the knob of
Frellen sighed
his guitar case
for you. I've
it.
hesitated there, dreading to
would never understand. was there with
water out of
by the surf for many hours, swaying and playing to
the strobing of the dolphin's
apartment door.
little
Her voice was
the scratch
amazement and she was
went on. "Here, your
face.
good of claws on
I've
got
pleased. "In fact, he
son." She picked
Really, Really, Really,
up a
card-
Weird Stories
Modern Transmutations of the Alchemist
John Shirley board box and reached threw beach.
it
at him.
The
inside,
She ran from the apartment, out the door that led to the
faint trilling
Frellen looked
plucked out something that wriggled, and
down
of a distant flute came through the open door.
at the
dead
rat at his feet. It
swift death of fright.
Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
convulsed from
its
301
Really,
ReaUy,
AVeird
Stories
Just Like Suzie
Perrick
is
in his
silently to talk
forties
who
underwear, standing in the middle of the room, trying
himself out of slamming crank. He's a paunchy guy, early
looks ten years older than he has
weekly rates hotel room
in
a piss-in-the-sink room, as the
moment. He's used
double
life
in
San Francisco.
it
It's
to,
and knows
He's in a
it.
not boosh-wah but
has a small bathroom. Perrick
it's
not
lives here, for
to these rooms, because he's lived half of his
them, but he's not used to sleeping
in
them; not used to
the shouts in the hall at night, the heavy tread of cops, the shrieking fights of the
two junkie gays downstairs. But
this
Bedlam
is
genteel,
of his neighbors assures him, compared to other weeklies on the
The room is
lined
up
on which
contains, besides Perrick, a double bed, a dresser
aftershave, cologne, a
box of
tissues,
one
street.
a man's comb, a cheap
chrome-faced radio. There's a lamp table by the bed, with a squat lamp
on
it,
a wastepaper basket
below
A window onto the street. A raincoat
it.
hanging on a hook. Perrick
is
alternately pacing
a syringe, already
himself.
up
it
to the light, puts
Of two minds about
and goes
to the
Damn, come
on,
to a table
and capped up, and a spoon.
filled
at the syringe, holds
and going over
it
on which
there
is
He nervously pokes
down, whines a
little
to
He picks it up again, puts it dovm He calls through the door, "Suzie!
using
it.
bathroom door. girl!"
Suzie's hoarse voice
from the bathroom:
man, you gotta get your understandin' about
me
stuff
in
"Just take a fuckin'
you so you be a
little
chill-pill,
fuckin'
getting' mine!"
me He yells at the door again. "Come on baby let's do it!"
"Heroin," Perrick mutters to himself. "Sick bitch. She's gonna give
AIDS or something." Suzie emerges
bleached blond
from the bathroom—she's hair,
a white
girl
skinny, with
who's affected a
bad
lot
Really, Really, Really, Really,
skin, thin
of the local
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Just Like Suzie
homegirl mannerisms, mixes them
SouthernCal roots. "Your princess steadily
on her
and
heels,
up with her white
all
is
here, dude!"
when you came in!" "That was like a down payment thing." She "I
little
un-
my money?"
paid you
bed and fumbles a der strap
.
Perrick rippin'
.
.
me
"OK
cigarette out
"The fuck
was!
it
time—my
off last
fuck
.
deliberate as she lights
you
can't believe
it.
pullin' this shit after
fuckin' credit cards—I can't believe I'd
go for
.
I'm goin',
this,
back on the bed.
"OK OK
I
on her shoul-
is still
."
I
don't need
me, fuck you." She
dissin'
sinks onto the edge of the
from her purse, which
Her movements become slow and
yells,
you again but you
She walks a
nodding a touch. "You got
she's
Valleytrash
fuck
no
accusations,
you
totally
illin',
starts to get up, sways, falls into sitting
"Shit."
it.
He
Here."
gone almost before
more money down beside
slaps
hits the mattress, into her purse
it
.
.
.
her,
it's
then she
comes out of it, shaking herself. "Wow. Shit's good. Let's do the Thing. Before I nod out or something. You want it like before?" droops a
nodding
little,
.
.
.
Perrick nods, unzips his pants, then hesitates, takes his wallet out of his
back pocket and puts
it
of the dresser.
Then goes
Buttons
He
it
up.
he doesn't notice
where he can keep an eye on
to the raincoat, puts
it
on
it,
in the
over his
middle
underwear.
goes to her, taking up the syringe. Perrick makes as
He's looking
her.
at the ceiling
if
and humming absently
but breathing rather rapidly. Suzie, in a practiced
pen
if I
ing me!
looked inside
little girl's
this
My goodness!
I
voice:
Feels around.
"Oh
what the big man
will
wonder what's
wonder what would hap-
in here?" his coat
and puts her head under
nummy yummy!
what's this
do
I
big grovm-up man's coat when he's not watch-
She unbuttons the bottom button of it.
"Oh!
Mmmmm!
I
wonder
!" .
.
.
him head, her own head bobbing. drags back his coat sleeve and fixes, reg-
Perrick gasps as she begins giving Perrick snatches
up the
syringe,
immediately. His back arches and his jaw quivers as he rushes. Never as good as the first rush he had the first time he did it and every isters
time he does
it
he
feels a little
more
strain
that this time the ticker goes blooey but is,
enough
to
make him
go:
"Oh
jeezus
on
still
oh
his heart
and he
he's riding
yes
half
hopes
what rush there
little girl
you bad
dirty
oh yes take it take it oh yes you ripped me my credit cards but I forgive you because you are the little girl who loves me loves to oh yes-" Faster and faster as the drug takes hold. "Good off you dirty
little girl
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
little girl
305
John Shirley
3o6 Just Like Suzie
good meth
crystal
and had
to
tell
bad
me
you ripped
back with you, you caused
can't believe I'm little girl
little girl
my wife found out me out and here I am you got me kicked out bad and
off
her the whole story and she kicked
little girl
it,
." .
.
His movements are convulsive as he grabs the back of her head ...
his
repressed anger emerging in the violence of his hip thrusts and hands
tal-
oned on the back of her neck.
Faster
and meaner. She's gagging. Choking.
He's oblivious. He's gasping, "... Shouldn't do
made me bad
me
want
didn't
I
little girl
to
don't
I
know Andrea left me
you made
.
.
.
with vicious thrusts into She's
gained
shouldn't
Your
now
do how'd
to
your—"
fault
her. ''—fault!
gagging, choking, but
still
was the
know what
your
it
do
but you
it
me buy the stuff made me buy you made I
get into
He punctuates faultl
The heroin
more than she
strength,
its
words now
the
Your faultr
only resisting feebly.
synthetic stuff, hard to gauge
don't
it I
bar-
for.
Perrick's singing idiotically.
"Heroin and speed, you and me, heroin
and speed, you and me, you
dovsni
me
and
up, never quite enough,
make her bleed make her sorry she stole from me—" choking more and more. He holds himself deep in her, forcing a
heroin and speed She's
now
sustained deep throat—her struggles are
mock motions
like
of a
sleeper acting out a dream. Perrick's babbling
show
dick
He
moving. got too
He
.
.
"Bad
you're sorry
."
.
slumps over
He
.
her.
away from
Shit
Hugs her her.
you got
give
heart take .
.
my
stops
.
to his groin. "Fuck. I'm sorry
"Hope
I
didn't hurt
you
I
." .
.
Frowns. Sees he's stuck or she's not
my
I
was
sorry.
nuts in your
Come
mouth too
now: "Hey! Suzie? You're hurting me, posed to
my
As he orgasms and she
otherwise totally limp.
Perrick muttering: "Said
me.
SHIIIIIT!"
straightens up, panting.
tries to pull
letting go. She's
ripoff artist broke
girl little
.
you more money or—"
on. Let go. You're hurting .
.
.
He
how'd that—?"
What
seriously!
stops, grimacing with
Yelling
I'm sup-
is this,
clamping
pain at his groin. Bending to look under the coat. She's beyond unconscious. slack.
He
Already tinged blue.
bunched with a balls,
both
A
can see the profound emptiness of her.
beyond
And at the corners of her jaws the muscles are
signature of
in her
slackness
finality.
She's
clamped onto
mouth, her teeth clamped
his dick
and
his
a sadist's cock-ring over
like
the root of his maleness. "Jesus fucking Christ! Suzie! Don't be dead,
come
on, that's a fuckin' bitchy thing to
checks her pulse at her throat.
"I
do
me! Don't be—"
to
don't fucking
.
.
.
She
is.
He
She's dead.
Shit shit shitr
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Just Like Suzie
He tries to ease her off
.
.
.
when
that doesn't work,
himself Stay Calm, as he attempts to yank shiiiiiit!
It
free.
makes an
effort, tells
"Awwwwwwwwwhhhhh
Fuuuuuuck!"
hurts.
He Then
deep breath. Forces a measure of relaxation into
takes a tries
his limbs.
again to wrench her loose.
Searing pain.
He
Then he
yowls.
hanging from
stands there, panting, feeling the weight of her
his genitals.
He's holding her up by
head more
to try to get her
He moves
his genitals.
work his thumbs between her teeth, try to pry her off. PushesCrunching pain. Some sorta death-reflex. She's crunching down harder on him every time he tries to pry her loose. Like punishment for the attempt
"CKvww
.
.
.
fuck goddamnit!"
A banging at the He recognized "Yo!
in the light, then attempts to
You got
door.
Buck's geeky voice coming from outside the hotel door
Suzie in there! Say hey
you got
my lady in there,
"Oh
Perrick mutters breathlessly to himself,
shit
it's
Then yelling at Buck, "No, no man she— she split!" "Hey bullshit! Come on, man! Get over here, open
dudeski?!"
her fuckin' pimp!"
this
door!"
Whining, Perrick grabs the corpse under the armpits and drags
it
along with an awkwardness that seems a weirdly apt choreographic
parody of
door
his
path through
When
life.
he gets to the
vicinity
of the
wrong way, she'd be visible if he opened not enough room for a 'U-turn' so he has to bend
he's got her turned the
the door, and there's
over—grimacing horribly— and grab her hips, so her
back
is
skirt
humped, and he does
hump-swivel hump-swivel move,
'til
a
and
little
sort of
Now Perrick's
sideways with respect to the door, the body behind
Unlocks the door and opens
it
it.
some— trying
composure— and opens the door only enough so around the side of
her at the
he gets her turned round.
whines some more as Buck pounds the door.
raincoat.
lift
capering hump-swivel
He
He
standing
adjusts the
his best for fake
that he's peering
it.
There's Buck. He's emaciated, his blond hair in a white boy's approxi-
mation of dreadlocks. Under lot
of cartoony stickers on
it;
his
he's
arm
is
an expensive skateboard with a
wearing Levi jacket sans
sleeves, stupid
looking surfer shorts, tattoos. Perrick attempts: "Hey. Buck.
pipe an'
hittin'
I
paid her, man. She's out
the needle, slammin' your money."
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
hittin'
the
307
John Shirley
3o8 Just Like Suzie
"Heeeeey dudeski, the bitch does that again
memory
an' she
Perrick
and the
Was
knows
"You hear me,
Perrick.
she hears me."
He
shouts past
bitch?!'
holding her up with one hand to take the weight off his dick
is
strain
is
hacking away at his veneer. Can't take
much more.
she going to bite through? She can't— she's dead. Right? Right?
Buck's saying, laughin'.
can
is. I
And I hope
that.
gonna be a bad
she's
"I
feel
it.
laughing right
bet she's in the bathroom doin' up
know when
always
I
me no
she's laughin' at
Right now. I'm
like,
some
Her mouth's open and
psychic.
whimpering and
He
hysterical laughter.
Mother Earth. Buck ignores him,
howl and he
and wham, bangs
tries to
this is cute, right
He
it
And
into the corpse again
desperately to get out of the
way
until.
when I'm
and Perrick
expresses
with a long
making a
is
its
the
room
in a
kicked again
is
and Perrick howls
At
Buck pushes
last
head under
talkin' to
again, tries
you
in
and past
his coat.
you head,
she's givin'
I
bitch-slap you, let
go of
ass over here!"
hot-coals kind of dance, his face a rictus of pain, trying
from being pulled off—starts following Buck's
to prevent his dick
little
itself
yanking at the body to get her out where he can slap
starts
and get your
Perrick
fucking bitch
into the corpse
her around. "Tryin'a pretend you're not here, that shit
between
he has the weight of
edge aside but the door
him, mrns and sees the body with
"Oh
she's
"—And I'm gonna KICK HER ASS
he's shouting,
he kicks the door, smashing
so that the pain dances through Perrick
dude!"
feels like
The pregnant mass of the
the planet hanging from his dick.
ululating
and
now—"
Perrick ventures, "I don't think so." He's walking a line,
FOR IT!" And
shit
matter where she
pull
around
Chinese parade dragon effect with the body, making funny
marching shuffles with
Perrick yelling,
"No no
his feet like
a kid playing choochoo.
don't you don't—no wait!"
Suddenly Buck stops and
stares.
Looks
at the
body. Lets
it fall
limp.
Steps over to the panting Perrick and peeks into the coat. Takes a startled step back.
"Jeezus!
You
fuckin'
murdered
my old
lady with that
puny little dick of
I"
yours!
Perrick's sobbing, "I didn't
out and kinda
I
guess
mad
I
at her
anyway so
what was happenin'— and she
on
there
mean
it.
Buck she
got carried away on I
just— she
crystal
was
and
I
was kinda chokin' her and
just
some kinda deathgrip
some
croaked, man!
reflex thing
And
and I'm
all
nodded I was
guess I
didn't see
she clamped
fuckin'
Really, Really, Really, Really,
down
smck, man!"
Weird Stories
John Shirley "The
Just Like Suzie 309
balls too?"
"Yeah yeah yeah. Yeah. ."
"This this
is
.
.
Buck shakes
gonna cost you
I
got carried away, you know?"
really
his
head
as
if
moral judgement. "This
in high
He thinks, He sees
Perrick suddenly feels a cold melty feeling in his dick. first,
she's bitten right through.
"Oh
shit.
"Well,
Oh
.
.
extra."
But then he checks
no. I'm losin' feelin' in
you oughta be
out.
it
.
.
.
"
not hurting.
it It's
at
glad, dudeski!"
"You don't fucking understand!
If
I
can't feel it-that
means
it's
dyingl
MY DICK'S DYING!" Buck crosses
his arms, considers the strange
union of the corpse and
the dick with a philosopher's judiciousness. "Yo, calm down, there's a
way ... we make a deal, we get you out This is so totally gnarly." Buck starts moving around, looking at the thing from different angles, .
.
.
sniggering behind his hand. Perrick
"Sure
yells, "It ain't fuckin'
it is.
funny. Buck."
You know what else? This
just like Suzie. It really
is
is.
And you
know what else} It was in all the signs today, man." He takes out a glass crack thumbs
pipe, blackened with use,
rock and
in a
fires
up, poofs in a
it
thoughtful way. Buck's head seems to expand slightly like a toy balloon. exhales
and
chatters, "Astrology,
man,
they're
all
fucked
signs.
know, I'm kinda psychic
Somedays
planets,
And it was in the smog colors. You ever read smog tea leaves? And the way people was walkin' in the Mix, I always
up with her lunar colors. Like
was her
it
He
there's
wack
like that,
I
see the patterns in the Mix,
shit in the air that just gets a life
of
its
you know?
ovm."
on the gelatinous rim of the Grand Abyss called Hysteria. "Stop hittin' on that fuckin' pipe and get her the fuck off me!!" Buck blows white smoke and says, "Hey don't be comin' at me like Perrick's
that, dudeski, "I
's
bullshit."
got a few thousand dollars in the bank,
can get you two hundred
I
fifty
bucks right away, get you two thousand tomorrow, you get her off
me.
It's all I
I
left
could get out of the joint account
her but you can have
Buck's interested now. the corpse:
"Maybe
"No no you do
I
"Two
It's
still
all
man. Just grand?"
get a screwdriver
stuff like that she
reflex thing or something.
knife because
it all
And
I
I
He
.
I
had with
Just
.
.
.
my wife when
shit
." .
.
looks speculatively again at
and pry her jaws or something?"
clamps
dovm
harder.
Some
kinda
don't want anybody to get crazy with a
my fucking DICK is
swollen up,
.
.
in there,
you know what I'm saying^
don't want just anybody cutting around in
there— I got to have a surgeon."
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
3IO Just Like Suzie
"But you go to the emergenq^ room, the cops
come
will
He does bullet work and shit.
around.
I tell
do it and you what. I know he won't roll over on you. He's good. But we can't get you to him with that thing hangin' down there and he don't make housecalls no matter a doctor.
what—he don't never go "So
.
.
what
.
He's a speedfreak worsen you. Totally
out.
He
But he cuts good.
tweakin'.
He'll
smells
bad but he
cuts
good
." .
.
you saying?"
are
"Gotta cut off her head
." .
.
Perrick stares at him. "What?"
"I'm waiting for another idea, dudeski. Cut off her head first—or, anyway, cut off her body
with
."
it
ishes
.
it
.
.
.
He
guess— do
I
we can
quick,
from
his
get
you out of here
pocket and opens
flour-
it,
.
Perrick hesitates.
how his genitals
Hands
jittering as
are doing. "I don't
And
I'm gonna get gangrene.
Buck
it
takes a big buckknife
he pokes
know
.
.
.
at the head, trying to see
it's all
purple.
Oh God.
I
.
.
." I
gotta piss.
can't
I
.
.
suggests, perfectly seriously: "Heeeeey, wait'U
we
get the head
separated from the shoulders, you can piss out her neck."
He
hits the
pipe again. Perrick retches at his eyes shut
.
.
this,
a retching from deep inside
him
... he screws
then he takes a deep breath and manages: "Just
.
.
.
.
Just
her body. Her head. You know." do it, just do it. Cut off her Buck laughs, "Me?! NO way, Jose! Fuckin A no-way!" He folds up the .
knife I
and drops lose
.
in Perrick's coat pocket. 'That's
it
paid eight bucks for a
just
gonna
.
good organic
vegetarian lunch
"Hey
look, seriously,
I
come back
chauffeur:
I
ain't
can't—"
"You wanna lose your dick? You did her man, I
and
it!"
Perrick protests,
sibility.
your jobby, kimosabe!
Oh
later.
first—"
He
it's
your fuckin' respon-
takes her ankles.
As
if
to a
"To the bathroom, James."
Clumsily, each step risking Perrick's ability to reproduce, they carry her
between them just like
do
it
her ...
to the
bathroom. Buck chuckles.
was gonna
I
kill
her myself
that way, wouldn't trust the bitch
In the
bathroom Perrick
removes
his coat
think about
it,
and
is
tell
"I
swear to
God
you the truth but
I'd
this is
never
." .
.
standing in the mb. Takes out the knife, then
tosses
it
on
the floor next to Buck. Trying not to
he opens the knife and begins to saw
"Yo yo yo yo whoooooa!" Buck
wanta get outta here before you
blurts. .
.
."
at her neck.
"Wait a motherfuckin' minute
He
I
backs out of the bathroom,
Reaixy, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Just Like Suzie
grimacing, heads for the hall door, pauses to take a hit from his pipe,
goes out the door stage whispering
bathroom,
in the
loud enough for Perrick to hear
just
be back, man,
"I'll
some rock but
got to cop
I
I'll
be
back, take you to that doctor, a thousand bucks and that's between you,
me and
the rollers
Perrick
sawing. Sawing and sobbing.
still
down
biting
you don't come through
if
do
thing,
ing
it.^
.
He
expects her to react by
harder but— though blood spurts and then levels
wells out of her, she doesn't react cians
." .
Just
.
sawing
.
.
and
that's horrible.
off,
How
simply
can morti-
someone. They should scream or some-
at
dead or not. Maybe she was clamping harder? There was no
down
How
there now.
throw up on she's biting
her.
This
is
could he
...
"Oh God oh
can't feel a thing
I
Oh God
through
tell?
now I
no. I'm
think
...
I
feel-
gonna I
think
." .
The blood making hollow
.
spatters
crackly noises as he goes through
and dripdrops
into the tub.
Wet
the spine. Letting his eyes glaze, his
hands seem to know the work. CRICK-CRICK-CRACKLE.
SPLURT Thump. The body thumping down onto the tub. He drops the knife onto it. Turns quickly because he can't keep it down anymore: the vomit. Painful vomiting. Then he turns on the shower. Vomit and blood going down the drain.
He
mostly finished
its
draining.
The
bluish yellow now.
It's
the head more. Cheeks sunken. His dick, where
above her teeth, her
head
steps out, dries himself off—and dries off the
hair.
angry red and blue.
is
What the
Give her a shampoo.
while he's at
He
it
wonders
fuck.
shows
It
has
at the root,
Maybe brush her teeth
too
it.
steps through the
groin.
It
he should wash
if
Crazy thoughts. Control yourself. Walk your ass through
He
too.
eyes sunken into
bedroom door with
the head dangling from his
ludicrously as he walks.
bounces
Perrick.
it,
A
bloody towel wrapped
around the neck stump. The head's eyes are open now and looking up at him. Once more he's wearing the raincoat and underwear. Raincoat isn't
and the underwear is scarlet brown and his legs are streaked. He looks somewhat relieved and yet in shock. Staggers over to his rig, his syringe, draws some crank from the
blood soaked but
spoon. Looks
stomach
his
down
nothin
I
had some
you. Don't worry,
down
there
.
spattered
at the head. Starts to giggle.
Says to himself, "Wish
some with
is
.
.
Hey
.
I
.
Suppresses
don't have to pee .
Really, Really, Really, Really,
it.
horse. Like to take some. Share
no more,
close your eyes, Suzie
Weird Stories
." .
.
I
can't feel
He
reaches
311
John Shirley
312 Just Like Suzie
down and "OK,
He
know
.
A friend. this is
if
"Speed
got to
He
.
.
.
thinks: I'm losing
He
He
.
.
A
looks
."
a marriage or a divorce it."
it.
.
Need champagne for—
ain't right for this.
Magic Words: "Fuck
says the
work nervous GIGGLE have some communication."
doesn't
.
of garbage in his head.
tail
at the needle.
don't
.
we
understand, sure:
I
peacock's
I
them
tries to close
.
.
Rushes.
injects the speed.
Giggles. Sobs. Giggles. Sobs. Babbles. "Suzie
.
.
.
Suziebitch talk to
me,
tell
me:
this
is
.
.
this is
.
your way to—"
He's interrupted by a delicate knock on the door.
He
hears a fluting female voice, sort of
silly flirtatious
Oh
"Andy!
Annnn-dyyyy!" Perrick at
first
thinks this
is
down
Suzie's voice. Stares
at the head.
It's
pulsing from the drug rush. Emanating.
"Suzie—How'd you say that with your ing both as he says
The
fucking wife
He up
it's
coming from the
The Pakistani lady at the front deh-esk said more normal voice: "Come on, open up,
A
let's talk!"
who
sinks in
It
cry-
it.
"Annn-dyyyyy!
hall door.
Laughing and
full?"
voice again and this time Perrick realizes
you were ho-ommme!" hon,
mouth
this
is.
His wife. Andrea.
don't even—but
I
starts to giggle
and
He
My
mutters, "Jesus Fuck.
."
oh yeah sure— sure uh-huh makes sense
.
.
tosses the syringe into a wastebasket, buttons
his coat over the head.
Throws a bedspread haphazardly over the
amount of blood on the floor that dripped through the towel. Funny head-hump hobbling under the coat as he goes to the door, opens small
the door for his fairly straight wife
who
looks around with distaste. She's
Jewish, well dressed.
She
"This place even smells horrible,
says,
the door and
comes toward him. "You look
ing?
You ready
and
I
drugs. to
to
come home?
I
thought about
don't think you would've gone to that I
mean, you weren't
in
I
mean you
or otherwise
.
and no pants?
"No
I
.
.
.
.
really ."
It's
Got
She
us-
and thought about if
it
you weren't on the
your right mind, and we're gonna take you start
over—if you're
And no more women. "Why are you wearing a
will-
have to be willing.
Paid for
stares at his legs.
raincoat
a head.
I
Ahead of
.
.
.
myself." Trying to keep
on the coat before the
Andrea looks around this ...
So—you've been
not even raining. You got shorts on under there?"
crazy half giggle. "Put
on any of
it
whore
one of those twenty-eight day programs and
ing
Listen—" She closes
doll.
awful.
skeptically.
"Where?
pants. I
don't
mean, do you launder any of
Come on,
down sit
dovm."
know if I want
this
the
to
sit
bedding?"
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Just Like Suzie
"The bed's OK. his throat as
Just
.
.
.
head over
he gestures to the bed. She moves to
"You threw the bedspread on the
YOU
"You're walking funny,
HEAD down
She gapes
He
at him.
lump bobbing under Perrick
it
and
sits gingerly.
nice.'"
He walks awkwardly toward her.
HEAD
out
it
in this world!" Fairly
you don't keep your
snorts, "If
Very
in
got a back ache?"
now, getting
Perrick's close to tears
your
floor?
"Head to."
Perrick giggles moronically.
down
here." Laughter creaking
spastically.
"Got to keep
barking the word "head."
down, you've
HEAD
He
pal!"
it,
begins to laugh hysterically. She looks at the
"Whatever have you got
his coat.
.
.
.?"
sobbing openly now, breaking down."H£ADN'T THOUGHT
is
ABOUT FT!" And
then the towel dislodges and
Andrea
gives a rabbity
falls
doing something again. Something
.
It
let
just
earnest. Seeing a crepuscular ray
woman. Talk
to her for
me. Con-
go."
might work.
Andrea
been
.
of hope. "Andrea— talk to her. You're a vince her to
wet bloody lump.
to her feet. "You've
."
madly
Perrick approaches her, feeling
to his feet in a
and jumps
shriek
little
It
might.
backs away, the bitch, whenever you
pull shit like this
.
.
need them they
really
.
She squeaks: "What?"
Woman
Perrick pleads, "Talk to her!
Yeah: Tete a
Blood
tetel
Andrea bursts
woman! What do
out:
down
his leg
.
.
.
"You don't have
door. "You really don't have
to.
he to
starts to
open
But he opens the coat and
if
head
she's
as she sees Suzie.
open
it
woman!
If
Andrea,
you want
.
just get
.
.
and uh-"
off. Andrea's eyes are
.
.
pingpong balls
touches her throat with her hand smiling, idiotically appealing:
dovm
there
and jaw with
her!
could-"
He
to talk to her face to face
bends over so the head
.
She takes a long noisy breath that sounds as
Perrick approaches her, weeping, it,
his coat
don't-I mean, everybody should have
I
flings
choking on something
to her about
call it?
that!" She's angling for the
their personal space, the marriage counselor said that
in her
they
Talk to her—!"
dripping
is
to
sort of half dangles
I
between
.
.
.
"Talk
Woman to squats
his legs
.
.
.
and he's
he goes on: "-and you could, you know, go around behind me and put your face under me there-if you don't mind, just-" I mean, you always said I had a cute msh-you could
quite serious
and sincere
as
Andrea's backed into the door. She turns and claws at it. Yanks it open with a sound of animal fear and sprints out into the hall. Perrick stares
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
313
John Shirley
314 Just Like Suzie
after her, a
disappointed but already forgetting about
little
it.
He
turns
away from the door and begins to caress the head, to move his hips dancing. Then Buck appears against it, not like fucking but more like .
at the door, staring
down
"Yo dudeski your old
He
breaks
on
dresser, turns
.
geeking out behind—"
lady's really
seeing Perrick dancing.
off,
.
the hall at the retreating Andrea.
the radio.
It's
As Perrick dances over
"Cheek
playing
to the
Buck looks
to Cheek."
ill
and disgusted. Perrick
is
".
cerely.
.
.
tenderly dancing with the head, singing along, badly but sin-
when
we're out together dancing cheek to cheek!"
Buck murmurs, "Oh wow. Dudeski."
The music
swells in Perrick's head.
Buck looks
now. Then goes to him, drapes the coat over still
dancing— to the door. "You know what? Your old
the cops
.
.
.
let's
get out of here
.
has your bank account frozen but
To
Perrick, the part of
about,
all this is
him
.
Get
.
we
like
to that
goes along with him
it
A vacant
lot.
A half-dozen
around a
lazy blue
black guy
calls
lady's
ATM life
from behind a
down
him—
...
going to
the stairs
and
call
bet that cunt
I
." .
drive his
trick mirror.
.
body
He's
just
He watches without
watching as he body dances out the door with Buck. feeling as
calculatingly
got another wheeze maybe
that used to plan his
seen detached,
him
at
his shoulders, leads
and down the
street.
neighborhood homies and dudeskis hanging
flame in a rusting
himself Hotwinner,
is
oil barrel.
One
of
this
arguing with Buck. Saying
group, a "I
say
it's
a load of fuckin' bullshit."
Buck
shrugs. "Put your
money down and check
out. I'm lying,
it
I
pay
off three to one."
Hotwinner
says, "I get to
Buck nods. "Rockin'." "You got it. Just don't five
look close."
pull
any
gafflin' bullshit—"
And he
forks over
bucks.
Buck
Two
says,
"Anybody
others
pony
else?"
up. "Yeah here,
fuck it—you goin' to pay off or
it's
a waste of
we keep you
good wine money but my dog to have his
ass fo'
dinner—"
Buck Let's
No
yells at
do
the rickety van parked at the curb.
"Hey
yo, Perrick!
it!"
response. Buck makes a sound of irritation, husdes to the back of
the van, drags Perrick out. Perrick's wearing his long coat over the bulge. Perrick
is
giggling.
Mumbling to
himself—".
.
.
telling
me
all
Really, Really, Really, Really,
the secrets so
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Just Like Suzie
hard to understand what she's saying sometimes but she knows it all ." she's a Head of her time hee hee knows it all Buck brings him to the firelight, pulls back Perrick's coat, exposing .
.
.
Suzie's purulent
down from
.
head
clamped on
still
his dick
the skull, dangling next to his
and
.
balls,
one eye hanging of the scalp
testicles, jigsaws
now and
rotted off, pig bristles of hair remaining, maggots dripping then, squirming
.
.
.
halfway to a skull
.
.
.
"That's a pig head or somethin', that ain't tests,
no
bitch!" a dudeski pro-
but Buck draws him closer, makes him bend and
backs away making phlegmy sounds in
his throat as
others,
"OK, dudeskis, take a good look, you paid for
people
drift
want a look?
over to check
it
out.
really look.
Buck it."
He
says to the
A
few other
Buck covers the head. "Anybody
else
Five bucks!"
Buck taking more money, murmuring
to vacant eyed Peffick, "This
is
way cool, the bitch still workin' for me, tha's, like, loyalty to the max, you Lemme knooooo? I mean, it's just like Suzie to hang in there, dude count the money dude .
.
.
.
".
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
.
.
315
Cold Feet
Didn't like the looks of the wheatfield beside the apple orchard. wheatstalks looked
The
and uncompromising, and she suspected that
stiff
they were actually sharp rods of yellow-painted steel which would impale
her
if
she tried to
wheatfield.
And
introversion.
At
down. But he had
lie
said to wait at the corner of the
her doctor had told her to start seeing men, escape her
meeting with Clancy wouldn't be as boring as
least, this
the usual drive-in dates. She tossed her red corduroy coat onto the wheat
and
lay
down on
wincing
it,
at the feel of crushing wheatstalks brittle
underneath. She looked around nervously for insects, shading her eyes
summer
against the glare of the Indian
sun. Clancy
was approaching
through the apple orchard, taking bites from a bruised yellow apple.
Clancy couldn't be
He
name, she thought.
stood over her, tossed aside the apple, his silhouette blotting the
sun into a halo. "I
his real
He just stood there, watching,
knew you'd come," he
said in a
trying to
seem
confident.
measured monotone.
"Pretty sure of yourself?" "I didn't
come
here just for myself, you know."
He sat down close to her.
"Well," she said, in a conscious effort at unnerving him, "Let's dis-
pense with ask
me
ogy.
to
The
all
game
the
meet you
grass
"You're kinda
in a
high,
is .
.
playing
."
She removed, with
and get down
rimalistic
a neat pile and waited for
A lies,
didn't
is
around."
cleared his throat. "Well, that's fine with me."
aplomb, her purple wool
pink blouse, leaving only pink see-through
rees.
You
secluded place for a discussion about psychol-
and no one
He
to brass tacks.
him
to
remove
briefs.
his blue
She
laid
skirt
and
light
her clothes in
workshirt and dunga-
She closed her eyes and daydreamed: neatly furnished
room, with couches,
and pre-Raphaelite
prints. In
easy-chairs, coffee tables, doi-
one corner a very average-looking man
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Cold Feet
of middle age in a dark business pletely
stood perfectly
suit
cherubic buder in coat and tails—entered,
dusted
still.
He
was com-
man-a chubby and humming to himself. He
unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. Another
all
the furniture with a large feather duster.
man
the immobile
as
began to dust the
though he were a
right arm.
man. But
strips
brushing.
The white was
suit
He
then approached
of ornamental armor and
There was no response from the frozen
of white were produced in the wake of the buder's
man
the shirt under the coat of the
being
dusted. In a few minutes the coat and trousers had completely vanished,
having been brushed away by the feather duster wall. The butler continued
ward calm
as the shirt
matter-of-factly,
The
breaching none of his out-
heaping gray particles between
and epidermis. Brushing
his hair
back, peeling
him
into dust
his polished
moved or changed
expression). Whistling
removed the second
in
equanimous
candy-stripe away, the buder left an
man (who
oozing red surface on every inch of the frozen
the buder
fell
butler raised the cocktail duster to the stationary man's
head and dusted away spirals, front to
paint darkening a
and underwear of the stationary man
at the lightest feather touch,
black shoes.
like
"It's
layer of flesh
a
Long Way To
still
hadn't
Tipperary,"
under the outer
skin, leav-
membrane with the tendons and muscles The buder dusted inexorably through tissues of crimson dampness dovm to fat and flesh. He exposed underlayers of veins and cartilage without inflicting damage on them when brushing the layer directly above. He chafed down to the muscles and glands,
ing a filmy blue transparent clearly outlined
underneath
it.
and veins which hung loosely from the skeleton like baubles on a Christmas tree. Though the heart was not beating, nor the lungs filling, the organs seemed soft and fresh as if premelting
down
served in the
The
buder,
to primary organs
amber of an
still
instant's hiatus
between beats of metabolism.
whistling and stepping carefully around the multicolored
heaps of dust on the
floor, said to himself, "Tsk,
I
should have put
down
some newspapers."
He brushed away layer after layer until only the skeleton remained. He took out a rag and applied furniture
polish, shining the
bones for some
minutes.
The
sunlight
story like light
eyes
and saw
danced on
seemed
to
want
from a movie that Clancy
to pierce her eyelids, insistently telling a
theater's projection booth.
still
wore
his pants.
She opened her
A
peculiar expression
He
arrested her fingers
his thin nervous face.
She reached casual fingers to unzip
his jeans.
with his sweaty palm.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
317
3i8
John Shirley
Cold Feet "What's wrong?" She asked
"No.
name
is
I
should
Avram.
tell
And
irritably,
"Getting cold feet?"
you though, Clanq^'s not
my
real
name.
My
real
I'm not here for dreams."
She reached back to brace herself against the ground; and gasped. She
had stabbed her hand on a wheat
was
flecking
from
its
wiry
stalk. Stiff
and
metallic, yellow paint
shaft.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
The Peculiar Happiness OF Professor Cort
was three minutes before the lAMton explosion, and Professor Brian Cort was finding it difficult to concentrate. It
Cort was a
tall,
neath
stooped, balding
He wore
foggy gray eyes.
Cort's wife
with worry
the traditional white lab
the traditional rumpled
it
man
was bothering him
around
lines
his
smock and under-
suit.
that day; his wife bothered
him the way
other people were bothered by rheumatism or migraines. Cort was in his lab at
Pennyworth College;
his wife
was
at
home, probably
totting
up a
new list of grievances. But Cort felt as if an imp-sized ghost of Betty were on
sitting
his shoulder, fussing into his ear. Sneering.
harangue that morning had been so piquant, so barbed, he
Betty's
could hear
and
chrome and
overlit, ticle
it still,
it
was maddeningly
white-tile
distracting as
lab— to concentrate on adjusting the par-
gun.
At a minute and a
half before the explosion
ing,
Cort was wondering why he stayed with
ery?
Maybe he
He the
he strove—In the
deserved
he didn't
his wife.
know was com-
Why cultivate mis-
it.
accessed the particle-gun gradiation program, absently tapped out
first
few designations;
sighing, recalling
what his wife had
said to
him
that morning.
"What
I
sor in the
why
I
don't understand. Professor-' she'd said, calling
most
biting
remain with a
part of
and
script.
ignores
My
my
emotional needs.
ticle
gun
to
Maybe
it's
therapist says-"
remembered what her therapist said, Cort series of digits, programming the parwrong the tapped out an excess of both tangency and acceleration.
Gritting his teeth as he distractedly
Profes-
skeptical of her repertoire of nasty tones, "is
man who
my transactional
him
In consequence: the explosion.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
320
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort It
was a strange explosion, because
did
it
John Shirley no
damage. Nothing
real
broken, or burned. Cort simply heard a sort of high-pitched screeeeeeee, a spiteful heat and a malicious
felt
A profound
go through him. Saw only
chill
and a peacock one. More colors than were
light,
light.
perceiv-
able engorged the outpouring of light, that brilliant explosion.
For a
minute
full
Cort was
after the explosion,
blind.
He saw
only a
sort of light-infused Jackson Pollock painting wherever he looked.
then the
and contours of the room leached back
lines
looking gray and black in contrast to the asserting themselves,
filter
and the dazzle faded.
And
into the painting,
of unbridled color, finally
He looked down at himself—
he was unhurt, unchanged. But the room had been materially
was seeing some
sort of after-image,
nerve-ends. But no, he realized: this objectively. Everything
crusted nail
The
altered.
was crusted
At
some
Cort thought he
first,
distortion of
was the way
damaged
things looked now,
in iridescent crystal. Like a zircon-
file.
iridescence
On
was everywhere.
the lab tables, the instrument
on computer consoles and spectrographic analyzers and the And on windows, ceilings, floors. He was inside a gem-walled box. It was like some variant of an Egyptian treasure tomb—jeweled renderings of what the dead physicist will need in panels;
other arcana of a particle physicist.
the next world.
His mind his
reeling,
Cort
tried to grasp
mental effort were the stimulus, the
Now, slid,
what had happened—and,
room changed
overlapped, folded symmetrically into
He
crust.
diagrams
.
He
on lAMtons. before,
if
every surface crawled with pictures. Kaleidoscoping imagery that
glimmering tions,
as
again.
.
.
saw
itself,
and recognized
it all
as material
from
his
like.
Not
the stuff ... a simple-minded
He saw
.
.
ovm research
like this.
dismaying experience with lysergic acid
think of Susan Pritchett, the dizzy, bleached blonde
than Betty
his
thought: Hallucinations. But he'd taken LSD, once, years
and he knew what hallucinations were
Remembering
appearing within the
photos of fog chamber events, equa-
charts,
girl,
who had
but one who'd have
made him him
given
made him
happier
.
Susan Pritchett walking toward him, out of the
smiled—but then
Betty's
image materialized, and warped to encompass
Susan, devouring her; Betty
Cort closed
his eyes
became an
and thought:
attacking antibody.
Sister
Mary Jane. He opened
eyes and saw, within the wall like a penguin locked in amber, the
who'd courageously
He
wall.
tried to teach
him
his
nun
to play piano, thirty years before.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley "Oh, the
I
see,"
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort Cort said to himself.
open door leading out of the
He
turned away and walked toward
keep
lab, trying to
his eyes
focused on
that door, not wanting to see his unexpurgated free-association pro-
jected
on the
walls, the ceiling, the floor
.
.
.
He stepped through the door, blinking, into the April sunshine, and looked out at the park-like grounds of Pennyworth College. "Oh, no," he
Oh,
yes:
And now, ery. It
yet
Now, was
it
as
too.
things began to reshape physically.
early
Sunday morning. The campus was almost deserted. And
was thronged. To
it
example, was the burning bush.
his right, for
"That expression of mawkish, gaping surprise on your burning bush
said, as
"is
unbecoming
burning bush was waist-high, with dark green its
for a
is
its
all. I
age."
The
nondescript bush
burned but was not
Cecil B. DeMille voice,
really inappropriate, Cort.
area with lAMtons, after
Layman: 'lAMtons
in
man your
foliage; a
fluttery sheath of bright red flame. It
consumed. The burning bush went on,
"And your confusion
face, Cort," the
Cort stepped onto the blacktop walkway that led
across the lawns to the street,
except for
said.
The crystalline crust; the cinematic collaging. he watched, it became more than projected mental imag-
was here
You've irradiated the
quote from your lAMtons Defined for the
are a hypothetical subatomic or superatomic particle.
Essentially, the essence
of awareness ... the particles
work in
collabora-
tion with the inherent electrochemical actions of the brain to produce a psychically holographic entity, the Self; real awareness
is
impossible with-
out them; they are our link to the Universe's reservoir of collective awareness;
lAMtons, further, act as
reflective mirrors for the informational in-
put of the perceptual organs—'"
The bush paused
to clear a throat
it
didn't have. "In
my
case, the in-
tense, localized concentration of lAMtons released by the explosion
dently induced in
me—and
in other plants
psycho-reactive state, the particles of
evi-
and substances hereabouts—
raw awareness
reacting with a kind
of psychological echo to the electromagnetic influence of your brain,
drawing on the paradigms of your subconscious to—"
Cort had ceased to
listen:
he was staring
at the large abstract sculpture
that stood a few paces from the burning bush.
The
sculpture
had always
struck Cort as an idealization of vagueness rendered in marble, suggesting at times a cloud solidified in the act of changing shape; at other times,
when
the light was different,
it
might have been a rendering of a
multiple amputee break-dancing. Today, irradiated and interpenetrated
with LAMtons, the sculpture's knobs and whoris and flowing contours
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
321
322
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort reacted to Cort's
mind by writhing
new
into
John Shirley configurations.
becoming more
topography divided and subdivided,
abstract
Its
intricate, re-sculpt-
ing into shapes that emanated a sinister familiarity.
He
He
stepped onto the grass and crossed to the sculpture.
himself staring at
it
And on TV,
screen.
from two as
feet away, looking into
it is if it
found
TV
were a
were, was his least favorite show: Cort, the Boy.
it
Within the sculpture was a
vivid,
three-dimensional moving image of
the precocious Brian Cort at seven years old, sitting in his room, turning the pages of a
book
written for twelve-year-olds, and looking bored.
Looking bored and pale and neurasthenic. And
lonely.
A voice from the real world. Cort turned away from the image
"Cort!"
in the sculpture, to see
Bucky Mackenzie standing on the tarmac,
blink-
ing at the burning bush and the image-rippling sculpture. "So you see
He was
too?" Cort said.
afflicted
still
the clarity of his perceptions, "I
do
all
with a nagging doubt
it
that, despite
of this was hallucination.
indeed," Bucky said breathily. "Lord!"
"Lord?
Not
this time," the
burning bush
said.
"I'm dreaming," Bucky said. Bucky was the head of the physics depart-
ment;
just
over forty, he was slender but, unlike Cort, his slenderness was
down
compact, neatly proportional. His close-cut black hair was teased into short, spiky bangs, a style intended to risky.
immaculately manicured, and faddishly
Bucky was a climber, a glad-hander, a
fit.
first
to
He was scrupulously tanned,
and could be counted on
blame
if
a project
that
results that
something
.
has,
guarded
his
ovm
flank
up so there was someone
else
.
and back
to the shifting shapes in the sculpture
Bucky murmured
had the
man who
to set things
went awry.
Looking from Cort again,
be youngishly hip without being
.
ah
absently, "I
that you'd
was
hoped
coming over
just
for and,
ah ...
it
to see
if
you
would appear
." .
.
now replaying with
Noting that the sculpture was
embarrassing exacti-
tude a certain very familiar sexual fantasy, Cort stepped between the sculpture
presence
and Bucky and
said,
will prejudice the,
uh
"I'm conducting an experiment and our .
.
."
His voice
the water sprinklers. Bucky was staring at
The up,
sprinklers
on
he stared
at
too.
the other side of the walk had automatically started
and were spraying the
water was no longer
trailed off as
them
lawn
.
but the
sprinkler's outpour,
and the
crystal-crusted grass of the
.
.
itself.
Bucky was standing nearer than Cort to the
up-fanning water, evidently affected by the ambient field given off by the
lAMton concentration, was
arcing higher, warping
itself
Really, Really, Really, Really,
to
conform
to
Weird Stories
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort
John Shirley
some emanation of Bucky's unconscious. As if shaped on a lathe spun into a translucent
replica of what
Cort thought
at first
the water
was a
ten-foot-
high bowling trophy and then perceived to be a giant version of the
Pursbinder
Award
for Bccellence in the
Progress.
was the
figure of Broderick Pursbinder holding a globe out in
It
Encouragement of
Scientific
DNA molecules and atom-symbols a clumsy representation of the Wodd Of Science.
front of him, the globe configured with
and EEC Bucky,
lines,
of course, had been angling for the Pursbinder, having
"shepherded," to use his
which the
later
work
came
to
ovm modest
be regarded
as "seminal."
come up with
on, nor had he
expression, a
the
None
number of
studies
of which he'd done
initial ideas.
But he'd swoing
the grants for them. His success rate in swinging grants was Bucky's equivalent of a record-breaking
home run
average.
Bucky took a mesmerized step toward the high Pursbinder award—it looked rather
with an expression on his face that
like
rippling, aqueous, ten-foot-
an unstable
made Cort
ice sculpture—
think of John the Baptist
experiencing a vision of Paradise.
So see
it's
not
just
what Bucky
me, Cort thought. Other people see them too. And
I
sees.
He turned back to the marble abstract, was relieved to see the image had until he was what it had shifted to shifted. He was relieved, that is,
That day his
.
grade school; the crust of iridescence gave depth,
of real
life
to the figures so that, after a
once more,
When you're
startling
moment, Cort
semblance
forgot he
was
was engrossed in remembering. He was stuffy office on a wet October morning
He
watching a simulation. there,
.
in the principal's office. Himself, his mother, the principal at
in that
.
eight years old,
wet
is
wet; scary
is
scary.
.
.
Outside the school
dovm the window behind Mr. it was wet; raindrops made Jameson, so it looked like a herd of snails had stampeded down the glass. Inside the room it was scary, because Brian Cort was in trouble. leaden patterns
Brian and his mother sat to the right of the door; across from them
Mr. Jameson
sat
behind
his desk, his big, thick, hairy-knuckled
hands
on the desk's flawless glass. Brian was sitting on an orange plastic chair. He was gripping the plastic seat to either side of his Wrangler jeans, rubbing his thumbs on the almost slimy plastic, and he was staring at Mr. Jameson's forehead. If you stared at the duck-shaped mole on Mr. clasped
Jameson's forehead, you could give the impression you were looking attentively at him, without really having to look him in the face. Jameson's wide, froggish face was
slightly
cockeyed; one of his eyes was
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
glass.
He
323
324
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort
John Shirley
maintained a look of patronizing amusement,
my
lily
pad
Cort—Brian here has been
frog of his face, as he said, "A4rs.
and
the
like
for the
my
delight
disappointment both. He's two grades ahead of his peers, and
on top of his classes, but sometimes—it's kinda funny—it's like the bottom will drop right out of his motivation, and he'll do just nothing for two weeks at a time—" he's
still
right
"Brian," his
mother
His mother was
an almost
tall
"what have you got to say to that?"
said sharply,
and
birdlike,
her neck too long, her
lips
pressed into
her mouth; those wing-frame glasses making
invisible line in
her small, bitter green eyes weirdly malevolent. She wore a crisp gray kept her olive purse clenched in her
dress-suit;
She leaned forward
lap.
toward Brian over the purse, her knuckles white on looked
him.
at
He
imagined her turning into a bird
its .
.
brass jaws as she .
Professor Cort, staring into the sculpmre's animations,
ment of the
cartoon-like sardonicism of the
saw a
reenact-
young Brian Cort's imagina-
His mother was transforming, the purse melding to her neck to
tion.
become
part of a buzzard's wattles, her shoulders narrowing, arms grow-
ing feathers, becoming wings, chin sinking into her face, her small sharp
nose lengthening, getting sharper, harder, becoming a beak, her gray
becoming
dirty gray
plumage
.
.
.
crack the boy's head, to redden her beak with his brains
Fighting nausea, Cort looked self,
trying to shiver the
mind
off
suit
the mother-bird darting her beak to
He
.
.
He
shook him-
watched Bucky
to take his
away from the sculpmre.
image loose.
.
it.
Bucky was dancing with a crowd of young, semi-transparent
co-
Young coeds are always semi-transparent in a way, but these were girls made of flowing water contained, now, in sheaths of crystal iridescence. They were life-sized, and nude, and their various parts were deeds.
tailed in frothy bubbles;
down
their
backs
water ran out of the back of their heads and
like long,
flowing silvery-blue hair
tures of nubility, impossibly
buxom
.
.
.
.
.
.
They were
carica-
They were dancing with Bucky
around the giant Pursbinder award; Bucky was stripping off
his shirt as
he pranced, dancing to a sort of libidinous perversion of Mozart that
seemed
to emit
from the giant award.
Bucky looked entranced, Cort noted. More than entranced, he looked positively
drugged.
Cort suspected that Bucky's immersion
lAMtons—now and then he made a grab right
for a water
through her—was sticking lAMtons into
in
the
baby and splashed
his bioelectric field,
Really, Really, Really, Really,
where-
Weird Stories
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort
John Shirley
upon they went, quite literally, right to his head. It may yet happen to me, Cort thought. I'd best get well away from
memory sculpture,
But he turned back to the
found himself gazing
The young
once more
it
swer
his
Brian f
"Um, Mom, like
was going
me
stay
up
to
see,
to
uh
fall
.
.
.
those times
asleep
all
.
and
What do you have
I
couldn't
work I just got tired, felt I mean you make
mean, dammit Mrs. Cort—if you'll
so darn
much
.
.
to see
that's just the
him waste
well, in order to
.
it—"
fulfill all
that
harder,
and a
litde
unpleasant fact of the matter.
What
have
Mrs. Cort, he's got to push himself a
and
ex-
potential—"
"Oh dear, I know, Mr. Jameson—it's sad "I mean he's basically a good boy but often,
to say to
the time or something.
rattling on, "I
my lingo—this boy has
you got to
.
smdy so—"
But Jameson was
more
her
invisibly tugged,
.
.
mother's acid-dripping question.
potential,
if
Brian Cort, sitting in the principal's office, was trying to an-
that,
cuse
into
as
little
eh?"
say, Brian,
"Uh, well, the problem is—" think he understands, Mrs. Cort, don't you?"
"I
"I certainly
a glare, but little
secret,
me
was,
his
own
hope
so."
somehow
She gave Brian a look that was too reserved to be cut
it
Mr. Jameson.
"Make
When
sure Brian
sake. That's
all I
Even Jameson looked a
more deeply than one.
works hard
ask
"I'll let
you
his father died, the last thing
on a
in
he said to
be everything he can be— for
to
." .
.
little
embarrassed hearing
this. It
was too
obvi-
ously a fabrication.
Brian was certain his father had never said anything of the didn't matter.
His mother made him
feel as
if Dad had
said
sort.
But
it
it.
Professor Cort took a step backward from the sculpture, blinking,
He
breathing hard.
felt
strange. Like his skull
had gone
soft as the skin
over Jell-O. Like the blood in his brain had gone ice cold.
Something drew
his attention to the grass at his feet.
lAMton
encrusted with
began to rearrange
itself
iridescence,
into
words
and
it
The
grass
was
reacted to his cognizance,
eight inches high:
CORT, PSYCHIC
PARADIGM SEQUENCE ENGAGED: LOOK AGAIN.
He him.
snorted in disbelief and
The
grass
was
But he looked
telling
irritation.
him what
the grass was talking to
to do.
at the sculpture again.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Now
Something kept pulling him back
Weird Stories
325
326
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort to
it
.
.
.
Some
hospital,
mind nagged, "For Heaven's
part of his
sake, Cort, get to a
have yourself checked out for radiation burns, arrange to get the
lAMton
lab's
John Shirley
irradiated material analyzed—it could
advance your career! Act responsibly!
be
invaluable!
Look away from
But he couldn't look away. Seeing himself as a boy gripped him.
was
It
as
if it
some mental
closed
rooted to the spot by a kind of psychological
It
could
the sculpturer .
.
electricity.
the sight
.
and he was
circuit,
And
he gazed
as
gazed into it— the configurations shifted again.
at the sculpture—no,
He
saw and remembered. Brian was
tired.
But he
felt
good.
old today, and he'd aced the he'd stayed up stay
up and
all
It
trig
was
his birthday,
study, but
Mom had been adamant.
Winter had sealed Cincinnati under three squeaked through the
muddy
wooden
small, rickety
feet of
snow.
The
late af-
crust. Brian's black
rubber boots
up the
drive of the
rut as he turned
house, thinking. Today's
my
birthday
and
I
tests.
Fifteen years old today, for half a
and already a senior
in high school.
buy a used it
He was up
dozen scholarships. Mr. Greensburg, the boy's counselor, had
Maybe
get a job,
But today was
his birth-
suggested Brian take a year off before going to college.
God
fifteen years
night studying for. Probably hadn't been necessary to
ternoon sunlight sparkled the snow's
aced the
he was
and Introduction to Philosophy tests
car,
"enjoy being a teenager."
sounded good.
day, today he'd
done
Mom wouldn't like
well.
it.
She wouldn't be able to say no.
The warmth of the kitchen tingled his nose and ears as he came in the back door. The room smelled Hke mentholated tobacco. Mom was sitting in the small breakfast nook, smoking, talking on the red wallphone. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and shot him one of Those Looks. "Brian you're tracking slush
on
all
over
the back porch. For such a smart
Sometimes
He
I
looked
think you're an idiot savant." at her,
But as he took over:
Sometimes
Sometimes
I
I
then at his boots. Shrug
his
how well
think you're
"Okay,
still
on
it
off,
Brian.
boots off on the back porch, he heard over and
an
think you're
kitchen, though, there
mother was
my floor. Take your boots off
boy you can be so thoughdess.
an
idiot savant.
idiot
.
.
No humor in
.When he came back
was a gift-wrapped box on the wooden
the phone.
He
her voice. into the
table.
His
sat at the table, waiting to tell
her
the tests had gone. I'll
see that he's there, Horace. Six o'clock sharp!
Really, Really, Really, Really,
No,
he's not
Weird Stories
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort
John Shirley
he should be—but
as punctual as
make
I'll
She hung up. "That was Horace Cress
sure he gets there!"
at Cincinnati
U, he says
be no problem with your getting into school there next thinks the plan for you to go to Stanford for your Masters
She clapped her hands together once,
And
ous. Let's just
He
looked
hope you don't blow Brian,
open
it!"
did, slowly, thinking
framed "I
.
.
the ticket."
announced
that
Vm
finalit}^.
pleased but dubi-
it.
Rolling her eyes.
about the
new
shoes he had were too small and they were at school
way
to say,
is
there'll
and he
at the gift.
"Go ahead,
He
in a
seemed
smiled, the smile that always
fall,
.
shoes he'd hinted about; the falling apart,
embarrassing him
and the package came apart and— three pamphlets, and a
certificate.
The framed
thought you'd
like to
have
certificate
that.
was
his father's
Give you a
little
Master degree.
incentive."
The pamphlets were things like, Your Career in Research Chemistry! "There's good money to be made in that field, working for those big deodorant corporations, Brian. Judy Clapper's brother-in-law Tony works
And
at Glass Bell Toiletries.
He
helped invent Pore-Plug, you know.
Glass Bell's not even one of the big companies, and he makes—"
Mom,
"Jeez,
don't wanta spend
I
my life making
"Pore-Plug has been very good to Tony.
If
deodorant!"
you—"
Desperately changing the subject, Brian put
"Mom—don't you want
in,
know how I did on my term tests?" "I know how you did. I called your teachers. You want you to know I'm very disappointed in you."
to
I
He
stared at her,
She went on,
"I
lege.
You could
"Mom, "What "I
good
I
spoke to Mrs. Gilmore and she says you take no
on your record
join
inter-
you should get involved, those
when you're
looking for a job after
col-
some school clubs—"
don't have time, I'm taking extra classes-"
else
have you got to do with your spare-"
don't have any spare time!
had some-but
Mom,
on both. But
numbed.
est in extra-curricular activities. Brian,
things look
got A's
I
want
And
Mr. Greenburg suggested
I
don't
Mom,
to find out. I
know what
jeez,
I
money
do
to
from school
if I .
.
.
after
I
buy a car and maybe,
I
take a year off
graduate and, uh, get a job and use the
else I'd
need some time to
don't know, go out or—" "I can't
believe
it.
believe you'd All
do
that,"
Her
dangerously-flat voice. "I can't
our phns-phhbt! You'd do that to your mother-to your
fatherf"
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
327
328
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort "Mom,
it
lity.
"I just
.
.
He knew, He'd go
to
my GPA—
wouldn't hurt
"I really can't believe .
can't
it."
Shaking her head with exa^erated incredu-
believe
.
.
.
then, that
it
summer school of some kind
He saw a vista
She stared Stop
it,
"My God—you're
him.
at
after high school, to "give
it.
him
crying!
At
.
.
.
fifteen!"
he told himself. Stop crying.
She went
pitilessly
on. "I mean,
Cort, the adult,
had
not enough that you don't have the
it's
in extra-curriculars,
Your father would be
you have
to
be a cry-baby
just plain disgusted."
to look
away from the
scene.
The lawns had humped up and reshaped themselves saw. They'd disgorged rock
and
and agate
soil
into a sort of instant alloy of simulated metal, life-sized
let
through into college. At fifteen
straight
of drudgery opening up before him
gumption to get involved too.
it."
wasn't going to happen. She just wouldn't
an edge," and then to college, years old.
John Shirley
that'd
for Bucky,
Cort
melded together
and formed
itself
into the
shape of a Lincoln Continental. The earthen luxury car carried
Bucky around and around the giant Pursbinder trophy, and around the quivering translucent
girls,
with a kind of rimalistic redundancy; minia-
mre mansions grew up from the ground, formed of the local silicon, into fantastic shapes somewhere between miniature golf casdes and Bucky's fantasy of the perfect
A
home
.
.
.
couple of students had discovered the
lAMton
concentration, one
of them screaming in horror as the earth erupted his phobia—which he'd just
been trying
made
legs in a
The
to
come
with in the biology
to terms
of roots and silicon, rats the
Disneyesque square dance
size
girl
.
.
lab:
of dogs, capering
on
white their
rats
hind
.
smdent with him was backing away from an enormous baby, a
house-sized baby of yellow
clay.
a gardener's wheelbarrow so
it
The
elephantine infant playfully slapped
arced up, over the roof of the lab and
struck a chimney with a lovely clang, showering sparks and bricks; the
baby giggled earthshakingly. Cort closed
his eyes,
took a
series of
deep breaths, and once more
heard the nagging disembodied voice, "Cort! Get to work on
The
explosion could be a breakthrough!
playing mind-games with your memory.^
But
after a
moment he found
this thing!
Why are you wasting your Get back
time
to work!"
himself looking at the living sculpture
once more.
Saw
himself within
it:
as a
young man
at his
mother's funeral.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley Saw
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort on
the expression
can do what
his face
and knew what he'd been
thinking: /
now.
I want,
Then came the wince of guilt. How can you be glad she's dead^ Your would be disgusted. Telling himself. There's no reason I
father
.
.
.
should feel guilty. I'm not glad she's dead. But since she cer came along well it's not as if I gave her cancer .
.
Reply: But she implied
made
is,
since the can-
.
her prone to
it
my fault,
was
that all her
worrying about me
it.
Around and around,
guilt
and resentment
like
snakes devouring one
another and endlessly regenerating and devouring again.
Cort looked away from the
what
I
He at
chemlab position
didn't take the
would
give
Within the
and he pursued that
in research:
to
do one
inter-
alive,
whispering to him
Winslow Garland's
.
.
taking
softly
fessors, assistants, deans, a
living
three dimensional shape,
party. Celebrating the grant for the
Bach playing
big clamshell-shaped
on
.
iaturized particle accelerator. Garland's
evening.
Pennyworth College.
contoured stumpy torso of marble, the
softly
filling his eyes,
mer
went on
defiance of his mother's dying wish. Ending up at the one place
hieroglyphs were again coming
Dr.
I
at Glass Bell Toiletries or the
interested in particle physics,
him a free hand Where he met Betty.
that
But
wanted.
Dow. He was
est, in
sculpture, thinking:
shabby
little
from the wheezing
new super-min-
backyard, that sum-
stereo;
groups of pro-
few students most of them clumped near the
bowl of cloying wine punch on the checkercloth-cov-
ered cardtable; chatting, drinking the awful punch. Betty was helping Mrs.
Garland
who was
lay
out fresh canapes. But
He'd seen Betty watching him,
on him. He could
she'd decided
him
at the party, hadn't
small talk around
Go
now and
then she glanced up at Cort,
standing alone at the rose-twined back fence.
him
wound
calculating
feel
it,
and predatory. Somehow
though she hadn't said much to
her coils of precious, dryly flirtatious
this time.
on, he told himself. Talk to her. You're lonely. She's interested.
You're a research prof at a minor college and you can't expect starlets or
even sex-hungry coeds to
anyone more Replying
attractive
to:
But
I
come
nuzzling up to you.
You
can't
hope
for
than Betty.
tried
it,
pratdes, she pretends to an
dated her twice and she annoys me. She
I
interest in physics she doesn't have, she
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
329
330
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort
John Shirley
doesn't like the opera, she doesn't like the theater only because
go
to
sit
in
them
see
means things
"why pay
an uncomfortable seat and watch those things when you can
free
she'll
on
be
public television?" She's tight with her
which means
get married,
I
with mine. She's
tight
can
she'll
feel
be
selfish
and
it,
I
about
all
money which
about a thousand
selfish
little
the big things. She wants to
my
don't want to spend
life
with some-
one who annoys me. She was coming over to
Cort thinking: This her. She'll leave
me
talk to him.
my
is
alone.
these people don't like
But that voice again,
chance to put an end to It
Looking
at the miniature
.
.
It
does matter. Her uncle if
is
you married
Joshua
her.
Do
.
re-enactment in the sculpture, Cort shuddered,
seeing something jarringly out of place in Impossibly, his
simply snub
anyway.
him:
Pennyworth. You'd be advancing your career
something right for once
I'll
doesn't matter what she says about me,
me much telling
it,
mother was
it.
there, at Professor Garland's part/. Years
after she'd died.
Mother was standing beside the image of Cort at the party. No, she was standing in him. Half in, half out of him, almost like a Siamese twin. Her image was semi-transparent; his was solid. She wasn't there, really— but the lAMtons were showing him the psychological reality, this time.
And when he
walked, he walked strangely— "the Cort shuffle," he'd
overheard one of the students calling
it.
He
saw now
oddly because his mother was merged into his
And
way.
beak into
you
leg.
that he walked
Was
tugging
it
her
she was bent over him, her face gone birdlike as she dug her his ear
and whispered, "Don't be an
idiot. Betty's perfect for
." .
.
He knew the voice
now. The voice that had
said,
Do something right
for once. His mother's voice.
She looked out of the sculpture
at
cobbled grotesquely onto the miniature, at
him. His mother in miniature, earlier Cort.
Mother, gazing out
him with contempt.
Cort turned away from the sculpture. Stomach churning, he lurched across the grass to walk, looked around, trying to re-orient himself.
Bucky had collapsed with exhaustion, was his
lAMton constructions had degenerated
geometrical cut-outs that took
lying asleep
on
the grass;
into fuzzy-edged abstracts,
on anthropomorphic shape from time
Really, Really, Really, Really,
to
Weird Stories
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort
John Shirley time, then
fell
back into component geometry; they shimmered
in
and
of children had run out onto the lAMton zone and were
gid-
out of free-associative definition, reflecting his dreams.
A group dily
helping the Coyote chase the Roadrunner, the figures three-dimen-
sional
and
child-sized
and
giving every appearance of being alive; the
children laughed every time the Roadrunner
Bunny looked on, his rifle, looking
went
heep-beepl.
around tensely for some
real action.
Cort thought: Vd better get out of here before I get caught up thing I can't get out of .
He moved
down
off
The
stopped, staring. familiarity.
.
the path between a
it
rearranged and recolored
reproduction of his wife Betty.
and shadows conspired
to
"You
said,
become
eyes.
He
I
felt
can
feel
Betty's sulky lips;
holly
through her nose, as always: .
green-furred with buds, whipping
tree,
itself
".
.
.if
and the
.
.
its
into a likeness of his mother.
your father was
and, "I'm very disappointed in you
Betty
bush bent over
me anyway and now and oh yes, I know you don't
His mother was traced in the sky with a willow-twig
.
nose— so Hke
beak-like
The
the requisite stab of guilt—and then heard another furious rus-
long, drooping branches about, shaping
."
becoming a
you not caring—"
turned to see a willow
tling,
itself,
me, but you married
didn't love
have to suffer because of your hypocrisy,
me,
small trees—and
A Betty twenty-eight feet tall.
form her
Mother's— and her sunken, accusatory
I
row of
were writhing, re-shaping with nightmarish
Berries in the holly bush rearranged to
love
some-
A squat holly tree was bulging here, contracting there, rustling
pointillistic
him and
in
.
trees
with the movement as
leaves
Bugs
GI Joe, squatting besides Bugs, cleaned
jeering, while
."
alive
filigree,
droning
he'd be disgusted
and on, and on.
Mommy Dearest
droning on the other,
grass rustling, shifting, the blades bending
and bunching to form
yammering on one
side.
two-foot high letters in green: lAM CORT AND lAbA DISAPPOINTING MM NOT UKE MY FATHER ... lAM A BAD HUSBAND ZAM A FAILURE, 1AM A LOSER ... As the sidewalk before him humped up, buckling, .
.
.
.
.
L\Mton-impregnated concrete that should have cracked, instead going rubbery, elastically bulging, reddening, pulsing ... a great red boil waisthigh, swelling
on
the sidewalk before him; splitting open, glutinously
erupting a slime-coated, inchoate
human figure emerging from it as if from
a soft egg: Cort himself, but a Cort deformed, a dwarfish parody, rigid mask of self-pity; its hunched back striped with welts.
Cort saw
yond
it
it
for
what
it
was: his
own
he saw the ground rippling
Really, Really, Really, Really,
guilt-deformed self-image.
as the roots of the willow
Weird Stories
its
face a
And
tree
be-
nosed
331
332
The Peculiar Happiness of Professor Cort like
enormous earthworms across the
grass,
John Shirley
under the walk, through the
ground to the holly tree, to "Betty," to entwine the trunk of the Bettyshaped
tree.
And he saw
the roots of the holly tree elongating, stretching
to entwine the base of the willow;
and he saw
that the wife-tree
and the
mother-tree were bent over the twisted image of himself, incanting at
and he saw deforming Seeing
him
mind
mother she was It
and
as his
that his
.
repulsively toad-like
mother had planted
.
in
him had pushed him
into
mold him. He walked
it.
The
And exposed
as absurd
it
lost all its
past himself, past his guilt-ridden
self,
behind.
Light as a soap bubble, he could laugh at the wasted years. great,
knew
around with him had recognized Betty for what
horribly, laughably absurd.
left it
.
.
.
to
.
mother had. Because the nagging, deriding part of
that he carried
was
power
becoming more
enacted, he knew: He'd married Betty because he
all this
it,
reacted to their accusations, their condemnations, by
it
further,
she'd treat his
that
shuddery wave of sheer
relief
And
a
swept him almost running out of the
campus, past the area of lAMton impregnation—which was already beginning to disperse with entropy. He'd think about the scientific implications of
all
finding a
the
first
And
this later. First,
new place
he had to get
to live— a place
his life in order.
where he'd
live
Beginning with
alone, really alone, for
time.
as
he passed a church on that Sunday afternoon, the people
ing for services
stared
at
arriv-
him—and wondered why he looked
so
goddamned happy.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Tahiti in Terms of Squares
Now: I'm going
Go
to
tell
you something-
right ahead. Parent paid for
—and you'd
better
you'll
begin to see
things
work
it,
it,
not me, so talk away.
strict attention. First
I'll tell it
to you, then
way
manifesting before you. Because that's the
here.
Okay. I'm Listening
be paying
listening.
good enough.
isn't
If
you want
you must
to see
give
me your
complete attention. Concentration. All right! I'm paying attention.
Good. This concerns
Tahiti.
offer a cinematic exegesis in arbitrarily
I
selected stages of that continuum.
Which continuum? That one
.
.
.
over there.
Oh, okay. I'm with you— Before phlet.
I
coming
I
begin, read off the pertinent points of the introductory
want
to
here.
Why
be
The Between?
Ummm
away.
.
.
I
.
utterly assured
the Between
is
you know
exactly
pam-
what we're up
to,
useful to us.
don't need to read the pamphlet. Anyhow,
what we're doing here
I
threw
it
is-
away the pamphlet^ After the agency spends invo-
Threw it awayf Threw Karmas to have those pamphlets 'grammed! I hardly think that's aDoesn't matter, I memorized it. More or less. It said this field trip will
luted
enable
me
to "attain objectivity in the antiduality perspective achieved
through the externalization of Parent thinks
Parent
is
it's
parity".
.
.
which
is
so necessary to adopt. Privately
so anti-Subjectivist. Anyhow,
it
I
said I've
one of those attimdes don't understand
why
been brought to
this
curving walls vast, clammy, pearly-white place with the two definitionless could I have a drink off your bulb? I didn't bring one. so .
.
.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Go
John Shirley
Terms OF Squares
334 Tahiti IN
why were you brought
on, go on;
Oh. So
I'll
here?
A lesson
learn something by graphic example.
the mechanics utilized in the insemination of zones of
pamphlet claimed. Something
like that. Personally,
me
sumes the whole thing will engender
in
losophy or some such nonsense
I'm dry after
.
.
.
concerning
reality.
So the
think Parent
I
as-
a reactionary Objectivist phithat ranting, can
all
I
have a drink off your bulb? Ah, thanks—
"Some such nonsense"!
Puerile half-weaned!
It is far
from nonsense.
This exercise will help to assure you never get lost while plane-sifting. In the Between
we
can objectively observe the means with which zones of
from archetypal cusps,
reality radiate
after
sphere of wavelength-specific influence
Yeah, sure.
Got
.
which everything
Got
patterned.
else in that
it?
it.
Hey—don't drink it all. You Now. Let me here it is Look—right
is
,
.
could have exchanged for your .
Come
over there.
.
this is
.
Prime
own
bulb.
A for Tahiti Continuum. Now look where I'm
a few steps this way.
pointing. See him? There.
He
glanced
watch said
at the
his left wrist. The face of the The watch had no hands or dial, noth-
watch strapped on
noiselessly: "It's time."
ing but two pale rubbery lips set into the face and he read the lips as
would a deaf person, though he wasn't
He might as well have been
deaf.
deaf because he was alone in the abode of silence and as far as he there
was no one outside of silence's abode
surely
at
all,
and even
no one would be capable of breaking in through
And he
if
knew
there were,
silence's
unspeak-
comprehend speaking except in terms of squares you'd have thought the room that contained him was about fifty feet square with three yards between floor and ceiling. No furniture.
able defenses. .
He
.
didn't
didn't
.
need
furniture,
and although he possessed a human body he
didn't sleep or rest or ingest or digest or excrete (except in the rial
terms of the squares). The palpitating
ness of his
human
excrete/excite but
frame ately
in
was ready and waiting
none of those
into the flicker
Yes,
his
I
to sweat/eat/spit/digest/
own power
.
.
.
It
had been
deliber-
between two heartbeats, between two
moved about and he had that's all
stands as an individual, except
nonmate-
the anticipatory wet-
reactions were indigenous to the time
which the body was ever-presently coded.
coded
breaths. But he
under
flesh
tissues,
if
the false impression that
you need
you want
to
it
was
to know about him, as he know what he looked like.
rather would.
He
had an average
era, Tahiti
continuum; he
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
Oh. You would? Troublesome of you. But
all right.
man's body, for the middle twentieth cenmry
John Shirley
Tahiti in Terms of Squares
was
English, Caucasian, six foot
and
extra-soft
brown
and one hundred
strange to the biological refractions patterned after
and head were
that of an infant of three weeks,
and inchoate, vague
sapiens baby, soft
When
his
watch told him
was time which
it
it
periodically
did—
can see him! Over against that curving wall, by aU those checker-things in—
Why else would I be explicating him? Verbal description
Obviously, idiot. is
homo
a baby though the volume of the head was pro-
eyebrows?
None. I
would have looked him because his face
body
portionate to his
No
like
pounds, sparse
sixty
watery-blue eyes. But he
hair,
the token for this vending machine.
restrict
As you can
see,
he
is
and was
...
I'll
my narrative to past tense because past tense here sparks the present
tense there, which
Or maybe
the apropos mechanics of that locale—
is
you're just nostalgic and sentimental.
Shut up and
Now: He was alerted by the watch to the necessity squares. You can see the squares on the walls, there.
listen.
of palming the
Squares in a variety of colors, yeah. Pastel shades.
Each square a foot
Yes.
evenly patterning the walls. I
and
in diameter
None on
six inches
ceiling
others,
and floor—
can see that for myself.
Shut up,
it's
to the walls
necessary for
and pressed
the palm of his surface,
it is
his
Where were we? Oh: He went palm against the light brown square. When
me
to say
it.
uncalloused hand-his right hand-pressed onto the
soft,
adhered
gently,
with a sticky commingling-
Hey! You're narrating that
in the present tense!
You
.
adhered
.
Ah, thank you. Very kind of you to bring that to kind. Naturally I'd have noticed Naturally. But It's
said "/s
."
gently
.
.
.
it
my
attention.
Very
myself in time.
why can't you narrate
this scenario in present tense?
dangerous.
Dangerous!
Laugh
if
Oh
you
suppose
I
really—
like. It is
What happens I
from the
if
dangerous.
you narrate
can demonstrate
this scenario in if I
do
it
present tense?
in a very cautiously controlled
manner. Observe:
He self to
smiles, enjoying the it
further
onrush of physicalized data, abandoning him-
a death-dwarf-junkie to a rush, he sighs and presses his arm immersed to the wrist, to the forearm, elbow, until the arm is
like
in,
in the smff, vanished into the wall, his
head grows rubbery and
and
pliant as
Really, Really, Really, Really,
his
it is
shoulder begins to sink also,
sucked into the square-
Weird Stories
335
336 Tahiti IN
John Shirley
Terms OF Squares
Hey! You'd better cut that out. He's disappearing,
Hie longer
do
I
see, the
image
tion of
him
it
the
in the to
is
difficult
it is
half in the square,
head
his
to reverse.
Now,
is
as
precipitous
its
going.
you can
consump-
halted because I've stopped narrating altogether. But
were to continue, the to proliferate
he
frozen,
is
more
its
if I
which tends
inertia of the present tense narration,
own future because its inception in now causes a hollow
he which must be
filled since
time follows the path of least
resistance, like everything else.
Well— can you get him out of there? I
can now; the
inertia didn't build
gone too
Listen: Realizing he'd
up
far,
to the degree that
he drew
square, slowly, letting the data-dew drain cleanly
source, as his
head and limb returned
tive in his rate
of induction.
hand pressed onto the mingling.
aroma,
is
Now
.
to .
.
its
He
time more conserva-
When the palm of his soft, uncalloused right
surface,
it
was adhered gently with
he experiences the tea
aware of
this
dun
the
away and back
normal aspects
to their
stood back, stretched, sighed, and began again,
lost control.
I
arm out of
his
its initial
texture
on
com-
sticky
gustatorially, smells
boiled
its
his lips.
Hey, aren't you narrating in—
Don't interrupt again, you're distracting me.
have to concentrate.
I
Keep your eyes on him; how else do you expect to learn? Heed: The drink is silvery, it is earthcolored, it is velvet, it is mischievously
He
steamy.
on. His
does not linger amongst these superficial sensations.
hand slowly
sinks into the
brown
He goes
square, the edges of tea-data
brinking his flesh seeping up, around his knuckles and over the back of his
hand, creeping over his wrist. to the shoulder into the
commodate
If
he chooses, he can press
arm up
his entire
brovm square which would then expand
to ac-
the remainder of his body, the other squares shrinking to
compensate. But he sinks only up to
his
shoulder
.
.
.
Comprende^
Solid. Yeah.
So
this provides
between the
him with an
of Thea Sinensis. Tea.
and
his
aware
back is
He
rigid, his
is
into his spine by
aware of the tea in every
it
that tea
and pore now,
He is down
unbroken but
oscillating channel)
forms of the plant identifiable as a
came
cell
strains
coursing his fingers and arm, traveling
relative to the latest flavor in the
how how
whole matrix
and the conclusions of various
eyes rolled upward, as he relishes the trance.
(in rippling fibrillations
earliest
orderly immersion into the
origins, the empirical
strain of
of the etiology of the
Thea
manifold tea hybrids,
to cross-pollinate into yet another
was discovered and savored
its
form of
in turn
Sinensis,
its
taste
genetic makeup,
tea,
and another,
by a clan of naked
Really, Really, Really, Really,
sav-
Weird Stories
John Shirley ages,
Tahiti in Terms of Squares
how those
savages were affected by the tea, the trading of that tea to
other tribes and the articles for which
on the other
tribe,
parative hybrid phases
and
dentally by these tribes
and by the
and the and
on
histories of
all
civilizations
engineered by their progeny
books written about
tea including recipes
and
on every
society into
which
cells,
their configurations in
panoply of a
the plants viewed through the
dimensions, the
rituals
and
various historic derivations of tea, the
who
person
ever used tea
and the
last
traditions
names and
who
filter
cross-
of the fourth
stemming from the
life
stories of the first
ever will-
and more?
All this
But the information, somatically calibrated data, does not
Exactly.
ger in the brain
cells
of our babyface;
the flame an instant after
recollects
measured. His arm
clean
is
it
When
it is lit.
from the square he
lights the
when
it is
babyface extracts his
arm
he's just experienced
and
at last
none of what
removed. The brown substance
memory. And the
tion eschews internment in
up
as
if it
lin-
lamps and then snuffs
(physical realization of data) does not cling to his skin,
closes
life
introduced, the col-
it is
and flower and
textures of the leaf
section of tea-plant fifth
names and
tea manufacturers, plantation owners, connoisseurs; the
all
botanists' schematics, the microscopically discerned
and the
effect of the tea
the various complementary additives, the
cultural effect of tea ors, scents
was traded, the
related species developed deliberately or acci-
status of tea therein,
treatises
it
the cultural reverberations of the tea, the various com-
had never been disturbed
.
.
and
its
informa-
surface of the square
.
Hey, you've changed from past—
Don't interrupt! Watch him!
walk
down
Hey,
the beach.
listen,
Shut up!
He
Now
having finished tea
it is
time for a
goes to—
should you have changed from—
He goes
to the next square in line, to the
left,
which
is
pastel
shades of sunset red and tropical sky blue and beach-sand white and bamboo yellow and palm-trunk brown, all gently blended strata. He places his
palm against
the wrist.
He
is
this
polychromatic square and sinks only up to
no longer aware of
his
arm
as entering the square,
now
rapport with the sensory-eidetic organ-music of data; surrounding and permeating this beach in Tahiti about is confluence. He rapmres
he
is all
atomic structure of "1910 A.D.," relative to this confluence. He of raptures in the atomic strucmre of sands and wavelength dissection in the
photons
poems
in refraction
with sea spray and contrasted with the various
written about the tropics (read in alphabetical order) and theses
concerning Tahiti written up
till
January
Really, Really, Really, Really,
i,
1910.
Weird Stories
337
John Shirley
Terms of Squares
338 Tahiti in
Ah, as with tea but more so? Just so. I
But
see.
Quiet!
still
you've changed your—
Now he glances at the watch on his left wrist—he does this with
that part of his reflexes specially reserved for that action— and registers:
"Time
So he begins
for lunch."
to
withdraw
his
arm, shedding cogni-
zance as he does, preparing to depart to the beach square so that he can progress to the lunch square that
ham and and
that
node of perception.
Hey! I'm trying to
What?
the absolute fact of a sandwich, a
cheese sandwich on stale imported rye and
I
.
.
tell
He
draws
gone and done
I've
the verbal realizations, catch up, slow
didn't
it
tell
me
down
now. I
strike off
can keep up, overtake
I've
on
own. Ah,
his
arm
is
on
it's
going to
fly
the wall quivers under the pull.
is
pleasant, brittle.
I
He
mgs, a
He cannot disengage his fingers from the
don't like this feeling in
Something getting loose
Quiet! I'm losing ground,
off,
the edge of the
otherwise dispassionate face, and
his
damn
it!
inside
it
a furious yank. This
(Oh damn
it all!)
my
guts.
A
chiU.
Un-
me. I—
Ah, a crackling sound and a por-
tion of the seemingly unbreakable wall
chipped
on
sound—
a crackling
cold inside.
out of its groove
the interior of the pastel shades.
furrow of frustration invading
feel all
the
emerging—was emerging.''—from
inner edge of the wall-frame and, angrily, he gives
I
Why
horses, at this point.
I—
this before
got to concentrate or
its
square, the inner edge
time there
Get control
to past tense.
the square and suffers a spasm, his fingers get caught
little
That'll result in a
tried.
I
Never mind.
and
you
it
maddened
again. Like trying to harness
I'm sorry.
arm out—
and rupture the membrane unless
stress pattern
Monitor
his
you, you've gotten into present tense!
Oh damn,
.
the background
all
minute and macrocosmically unfolding
layers of sensation infinitely
from
is
and the
comes loose
in his fingers,
liquid inferential being in the
square comes pouring out of the gap and splatters bab\face about the feet.
He
staggers,
he turns to run but
is
overwhelmed and vanishes from
view as the section of the square that was green-yellow
pands
like
bamboo
a
fire in
a match factory and the
room
licks
begins to
out and exfill
up with
shoots shooting and leaves unfolding. Quickly after comes the
brown and
the blue
palm
and billows of sky-gas and the room
trees
and the white formulating into magically upspringing
pacity with shifting arabesques of sand
the bursting point as babyface
is
is
suddenly
and water and
filled to ca-
foliage,
exceeding
compressed and annihilated, processed
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Tahiti in Terms of Squares
into seminal droplets
which
fertilize
the soil of the frenetically proliferat-
ing island paradise growing like a self-inflating rubber raft and I
oh damn
can't catch up, I've lost the reins—
What's happening?
I
can't see!
a boiling of liquified leaves and
It's all
sandstorm and there went a swordfish! The wall white
.
.
coming out here. making a break for it, spilling
Hey! It's
to
crackling, the walls of
is
.
It's
compensate
itself
damn—hold
belt—oh
"Harold!
into the Between,
now, engender a plane your breath,
Look at those two on
in
going to have
it's
which to root the
tropical
attempt an—
I'll
the beach up there. In the shade of those
palms."
He
shrugged. "Just a couple of beachcombers, dear,
any trouble. They look a ''Dazed
"Ah
.
.
do
we'll
is
of
they'll
be
dazed, don't they?"
hardly the word. Harold they're naked!"
yes indeed. So they are
.
.
.
.
Well bother!
Come
about, dear,
well to turn back. We'll complain to the desk clerk at the Cap-
tain Bligh. nists
trifle
doubt
I
He
some
said the riff raff sort,
had been cleared off the beach. Hedo-
by the look of them.
And
white, too!
Oh, do stop
crying, Emily."
help
"I can't
you
it.
They look mad. We've got
"Of course. But I'm .
.
.
to hurry.
And
I
shall
expect
was
sort of
to complain to the consulate."
ah
.
.
sure they
diffused about them.
.
.
.
.
quite harmless.
And
I
The
light
could swear that neither one had
."
a nose
.
.
Shading her eyes against the sun's tropical glare she gazed timorously over her shoulder.
She shrieked. "They're coming after us."
(Running footsteps, heavy breathing, curses from the
man
as
he stumbles. His wife
valiantly pauses to help
Excuse me, said one of the odd, them,
how
/
wonder can you
to get
about
nience, I
He
back from
all this.
direct us
pallid
back
here. Frankly,
The world.
men
to the
were
as
British gende-
him
rise.)
he caught up with
Between^ We've no idea
quite
lost.
Terribly sorry
Spilled something. Sorry. Dreadful inconve-
know.
said
it
in a language that
anyone anywhere
instantly have understood.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
in the universe
would
339
Equilibrium
He
doesn't
know
know me,
that he has
but
I
know
been impotent for
six
news and TV at the same
tening to the
He
him.
has never seen me, but
I
months, can't shave without
lis-
and mixes bourbon with
his
time,
And
coffee during his afternoon coffee break.
is
proud of himself
for
holding off on the bourbon in the afternoon.
His wife doesn't know me, has never seen me, but I her husband as "something to put up with,
know that she regards having your period"; I know
like
that she loves her children blindly, but just as blindly drags
every wrong turn in their
of her
when
relatives,
I
and companions of her starring:
have one) but
children.
Lana Louise Hobbes
and Robin Hobbes
as their
The
I
photograph
family of
the birthdays
we were ago.
Marvin Ezra Hobbes. Co-
and introducing Bobby Hobbes
sons. Play the
theme music.
there to help train the anti-rebel troops. like
it if I
talk
about the
I'm not the sort of person you'd write things,
to personally deliver really
...
I
even."
If
to his family (no,
really didn't
Robin always
home
and even entrusted a it
stationed
We were supposed to be there for "exercises" but
The CIA wouldn't
good many
family
and hobbies
know Robin Hobbes and he knows me. Robin and I were
together in Honduras.
a
Charlie's
knows nothing of my
know
as his wife,
two
them through
addresses of each one
and what she does with her brother
she locks herself in the bathroom. She
(I'm not admitting that
I
know the names and
lives. I
.
.
.)
just in case
said that he wouldn't
I
It
was a couple of years
details
much.
me
about. But Robin told
letter to
me.
I
was supposed
never did have a family
.
.
.
anything "happened" to him.
complain as long as "things turn out
a rebel shoots Robin's pecker away,
Robin doesn't complain
as
long as a rebel gets his pecker blown away. Doesn't even have to be the
same lish
rebel.
But the war wasn't
egalitarian. It
remained for
me
to estab-
equilibrium for Robin.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley Robin
Equilibrium
want
didn't
had been raining
It
was
It
was
when he
for three days
told
one and the
first
interfering one,
rain
had
to get strips of tin
but then he
it.
I
make
steamed
It
you
They'll get
Thing
sure.
Make
ticket.
He
the house.
earnest,'
to
my
worth
new
whole new debt.
join
buy a new
cause he was supporting us
a
my dad is,
all,
dad, gaye car,
and
I
whole
day,
coming out of the drone of the
gonna
start
now. Then you can write your
car,
was
"'They're
it.
said. 'You're just the right age.
My dad wanted me
a deal with the recruiter.'
wanted
what renewed living:
do
to
tire
platinum ring
litde
said anything for a
almost the same tone, almost generated by
and
and
My fingers were
in there.
had to take off the
Robin hadn't
just started talking, his voice
draft for real
as-
a third place inside
because the tent fabric didn't keep
tent,
swollen from the humidity, and
own
The
it.
to
with the equal (=) sign on
up the
about
had
in.
out the rain after a couple of days.
rain,
me
We
one we were
rubber and put them over our
was
his parents' idea.
another place, a whole different part of the world, trying to
like
sert itself over the
the
to enlist.
just
him a sense
out of
and he couldn't afford
it
be-
another expense. That was
that
life
had a goal and was
every few years. Trade in the old one. Get a
My mom was afraid I'd be drafted too.
in the Marines, liked to act like
he was a Big
Man
had an uncle
I
with the
real in-
the-know scuttlebutt; he wrote us and said the Defense Department was preparing for war, planning to invade Honduras, going to do some exer-
down that way first ... So we thought the war was coming for real. Thought we had inside information. My mom wanted me to join to save cises
my
life,
she said. So
could choose to go to someplace harmless,
I
Europe. But the truth
is,
Charlie use to hang around in his dress uniform a stud.
She was the only
woman
I
knew who
ever
didn't pay attention during the action parts; thirsty.
She liked to see them displaying
their spit
and polish and marching
she sort of went didn't defend
all
glazed
me when he
my
about
It's
raining,
"Yeah,"
I
it
lot.
liked
Looking
their stripes
suggested
later I
I
like
a
war movies. She
and
their braid
and
guns sticking up ... So I
join the
Army and
started putting the guilt pressure
assignment and here
like
uncle
wasn't that she was blood-
in step, their
when Dad
not getting a job and two weeks lied
My
she always was wet for soldiers.
she
on me about
was recruited and the bastards
fucking am, right here.
It's
raining.
man." said. "It'd
be nice
much sun or something. Has
if it
wasn't raining. But then we'd get too
to balance out."
"I'm sick of you talking about balancing smff out. raining."
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
I
want
it
to stop
341
John Shirley
342 Equilibrium
So
The next
did.
it
camp. Like the
day. That's
when
the rebels started shelling the
had been waiting on top of the clouds and when
shells
they pulled the clouds away, the trap door opened, and the mortar
rounds
fell
through
.
.
.
burned the
letter
Army Clerical
Unit.
Immediately after something "happened" to Robin,
Then I was
he'd given me. I
know, deeply and
placed
me
transferred to the Fourth
was no
intuitively, that the transfer
an ideal position to
in
I
accident.
It
the balancing of Equilibrium
initiate
and was therefore the work of the Composers. Because with the Fourth Clerical
I
wounded
was
I
came
Robin Hobbes's
killed.
it.
His parents never knew,
destroyed jokes.
in charge of dispensing information to the families of the
or
I
Jokes are always
across
true,
even
till I
when
and promptly
report,
played out
they're dirty
my little joke.
A Psych Tech. My
call
He
likes to see
took the job
bang
to smell
if
rest
of the time he's what they
friend at the sanitarium likes the truth.
particularly
it,
at the sanitarium
heads bloody
their
men who
it,
would be
where a friend of mine was a Meditech who
worked admissions two days a week. The a Handler.
like
lies.
juggled the papers so that Robin Hobbes, twenty years old,
sent to a certain sanitarium,
I
when
it
makes him
with the eighteen-year-old
you don't
tie
He who
gag.
autistics
them down and with the older
have to be diapered and changed and rocked
babies and
like
with the children whose faces are strapped into fencing masks to prevent
them from lips
eating the wallpaper
and
to
keep them from pulling off
and noses—he took the job because he
likes
it
there.
He
took
their it
be-
cause he likes jokes.
And he took good
care of
Robin Hobbes
for
me until it was time. I am my
compelled to record an aside here, a well-done and sincere thanks to
anonymous
friend for his
enormous patience
in spoon-feeding
Robin
Hobbes twice daily, changing his bedpan every night, and bathing him once a week for the entire six months interment. He had to do it personally,
because Robin was there
illegally,
and had to be hidden
in the old
wing they don't use anymore. I observed the Hobbes family. They have one of those new bodyform cars. It's a fad thing. Marvin Hobbes got his new car. The sleek, fleshtone fiberglass body of the car is cast so that its sides are imprinted with the shape of a nude woman
Meanwhile,
lying prone, her
the
arms flung out
Cannon beach towel
from her
girl.
in front of her in the diving
The doors
ass. She's ridiculously
motion of
are in her ribs, the trunk
improportional, of course.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
opens
The whole
Weird Stories
John Shirley thing
wildly kitsch.
is
Hobbes car.
Equilibrium
was an embarrassment
It
badly in debt behind
is
Rammed
a Buick Marilyn
Monroe
and Marilyn's arms, tangled when
into a John
And
Mrs. Hobbes.
to
because he totaled his
it,
first
Wayne
bodyform
pickup. John
bumpers slammed, were
their front
lovingly intertwined.
Hobbes took the
loss,
He is indifferent to
and bought a Miss America.
Mrs. Hobbes's embarrassment. To the particularly judgmental way she uses the term tacky.
Mi. Hobbes plays
little
jokes of his own. Private jokes. But
I
knew. Mr.
Hobbes had no idea I was watching when he concealed his wife's Lady He knew that she'd want it that night, because they were in-
Norelco.
vited to a party,
Hobbes sang
a
and she always shaved her
little
song
tuneless
bending over to look
shaver,
legs before a party. A4rs.
as she quested systematically for the
in the house's
drawers and cabinets, and
behind the drawers and cabinets, peering into
we
burrow-places to regard
appreciate
Once
.
.
.
I felt
the secret nooks and
was so thorough
came
I
a sort of warmth, then:
I
can
thoroughness.
a week, he did
mirror, her
can see
forget a house has; her search
as the product of mania.
it
all
makeup
it
case.
to her.
He'd temporarily pocket her magnify^ing
Then
he'd pretend to find
it.
"Where any
idiot
it."
Bobby Hobbes, Robin's younger brother, was unaware that his father knew about his hidden cache of Streamline racing-striped condoms. The elder Hobbes thought he was very clever, in knowing about them. But
know about me. Marvin Hobbes would pocket
he didn't
snuck sounds of muffled laughter feverishly searched
Hobbes would going
if
you're
way? Can
I
and rechecked
his son's rubbers
in his sinuses as the red-eared teenager his closet
and drawers.
innocently saunter in and ask,
gonna make
and make snuck-
"Hey-you
better get
that date, right? What'cha looking for any-
help?"
socks. Missing." no thanks. Dad. Just some As the months passed, and Hobbes's depression over his impotence worsened, his fits of practical joking became more frequent, until he no
"Oh
.
.
.
uh,
.
.
.
longer took pleasure in them, but performed his practical jokes as he would some habimal household chore. Take out the trash, cut the lawn,
hide Lana's razor, feed the dog.
Hobbes, driven by some undefined desperation, attempted to relate to his relatives. He'd sit them at points symmetrical wife thirty degrees to (relative to him) around the posh living room; his I
watched
as
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
343
John Shirley
344 Equilibrium his left, his
youngest son
thirty
degrees to his
Then, he would
right.
re-
late a personal childhood experience as a sort of parable, describing his
hopes and dreams for
his
little
family.
"When I was a boy we would The wild blackberry bushes were hours to
carve out tunnels in the briar bushes.
very dense, around our farm.
them with
clip three feet into
It'd
take
the gardener's shears. But after
weeks of patient work, we snipped a network of crude tunnels through the half-acre filled with brambles. In this way,
with the world as a whole.
knowing
perfect comfort, but
we
learned
how
to
cope
We would crawl through the green tunnels in that
if
we
stood up, the thorns would cut
us to ribbons."
He paused and sucked several times loudly on the pipe. It had gone out ten minutes before. He stared at the fireplace where there was no fire. Finally
he asked
She shook her
"Do you understand?" Almost whining it. head ruefully Annoyed, his jaws bruxating, Hobbes his wife,
slipped to the floor, muttering he'd lost his tobacco pouch, searching for
it
under the coffee
table,
under the
sofa.
His son didn't smile, not
once. His son had hidden the tobacco pouch.
Hobbes went
about on the rug looking for the tobacco pouch
scurrying
in a great dither of
confusion, like a poodle searching for his rawhide bone. Growling low.
Growling to himself. Speculation as to
Hobbes
family
life
how
came
I
prove as
will
know
to
futile as
these intimate details of the
Marvin's attempt to relate to
his relatives. I
have
my ways.
I
learned
my techniques from
Presumably, Composers belong to a
tacit
other Composers.
network of
free agents the
whose sworn duty it is to establish states of interpersonal Equilibrium. No Composer has ever knowingly met another; it is impossible for them to meet, even by accident, since they carry the same
world
over,
charge and therefore repel from each other. I'm not sure just invisible
Composers taught
states of Equilibrium.
simply can't articulate I
To be
me
how
the
their technique for the restoration of
precise,
I
am
sure as to
how
it
was done—
it.
have no concrete evidence that the Composers
exist.
Composers
perform the same service for society that vacuum tubes used to perform for radios
and
amplifiers.
And
the fact of a
vacuum
tube's existence
is
proof that someone must have the knowledge, somewhere, needed to construct a
Now hair
vacuum
picmre
this:
tube. Necessity
Picture
me
is its
own
evidence.
with a high forehead crowned by white
and a square black graduation cap with
its
tassel dangling. Picture
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
me with
Equilibrium
a drooping white mustache and wise blue eyes. In
lot like Albert Einstein, in this picture.
gown, and clutched I
my right hand
in
don't have a high forehead.
Not even eyebrows. Einstein.)
I
and
I
me
But picmre
that
way
On
I
Corps patch on the
am
slightest.
who
I
own
don't
a gradu-
vertical
of the
first
camera.
On
nod my head
I
The young
is
playing a TV-tennis is
given a
missing.
blip,
the 'tennis
ball'.
paddle and scores a point. JabI
indicate that the
sagely.
right dials with
But
this
both hands
game
game
is
side.
mysterious young
at once. (If
you look
until fifteen points are
never scoring a point for either hand.
wrist-flicks,
never wins, he never loses, he establishes perfect equilibrium.
practical joke
his family. Is
agents of Karma.^ No. There
Composers
are necessary.
in establishing the
vengeance—we
winks, the young
was programmed
Robin Hobbes and
But
is
He nurtured his skill until he could play against him-
The movie ends, the professor mrned to face the camera.
My
hand
long hours, beeping a white blip with euphoric monotony back
and forth between
He
de-
in the interactive poles of his parity.
designed to continue incessantly
scored by either self for
is
The index finger of his right hand is missing, too.) Being leftwhen he first began to play himself, the left hand tended to win.
But he establishes perfect equilibrium TTie
one
a field of blank gray the two
closely at his hands, you'll note that the index finger of his left
handed,
knob
racket',
snapping the dash/racket up or down, one
blip past the other electronic
man manipulates left and
He
video games. Each player
bing here and there at the movie screen signed for two people.
man who Army uniform with a
white dash designating the 'tennis
dial,
screen with
right shoulder, half peeled off.
white dashes bandy between them a white
knocks the
No mustache.
a projection of a young
is
wears a tattered
to each half of the television screen.
flick
look a
pointer.
all.
home movie
pointing at a
home movie
game. This was one of the
With a
wooden
don't have any hair at
the screen
has his back to the
which controls a
I
don't have blue eyes. (Probably, neither did
I
has shaved himself bald and Clerical
a long
fact,
a black graduation
never completed a college course.
official pointer.
man
is
don't look like Einstein in the
ation gown,
my
I
am wearing
I
is
To
it
man
has at no time
compose an Equilibrium Karma? Are the Composers to
no such thing
as
Karma: that
redress the negligence of
Equilibrium-something
far
more
is
God.
for
the
why the
We
try.
refined than
invariably create another imbalance, for justice cannot
be precisely quantified.
And
the
Really, Really, Really, Really,
new imbalance Weird Stories
gives rise to a contra-
345
John Shirley
34^ Equilibrium dictory inversity, and so the Perfect
and Mindless Dance of
Equilib-
rium proceeds. For there to be a premise there must somewhere
exist
contradiction.
its
Hence
present
I
my
Hobbes encrypted
clue to the
in a reversal of the
actual situation.
In the nomenclature of the Composers, a snake symbolizes an octopus.
The octopus has
is
eight legs, the snake
is
legless.
The octopus
is
the
the greeting, the
worm
selected the following document, an authentic missive
illicitly
greeting, the snake
is
the reply; the centipede
is
the reply.
And
so
I
obtained from a certain obsessive
my
clue offered in
My dear, You D.,
fairness; the inverted
recall,
Hobbes,
to the
as
foreshadowing:
Man
assume, that Perfect and Holy Union
I
my dominion and Wife
were obligated
and
Having excelled
myself R,
unseeing eyes of the Order, they
means of devotion and worship, in acspecialties and proclivities. I advised
own
to joindy undertake the art of Sensual
the Animus,
I
High Priest— the marriage of
as
in the
to seek a
cordance with their
them
it
dear Tonto,
ordained, in
and
all
and mailed
cult,
they did, and
this
still
Communion
with
they were unsatisfied.
in the somatic explorations that are the founda-
tion of the Order, they were granted leave to follow the lean of
own
their
Degree
inclinations.
in Jolting, the
Thus
liberated, they settled
on the
fifth
mastery of self-modification. They sought
out a surgeon who, for an inestimable price, fused their bodies
They became Siamese side. They were joined at
woman
joined to his
into one.
twins; the
right
the waist through an unbreak-
made sexual The obstacle,
able bridge of flesh. This grafting
coupling, outside
of fondling, nearly impossible.
as
Order,
is
the object. But R.
we
say in the
was not content. Shorn of normal
marital relations, R.'s latent homosexuality surfaced.
male lovers and
men, forced
his wife
was forced
to observe everything,
and advised
receiving,
latex
condoms. At
si-
first
in the fullness
flesh
which linked them she
and then more strongly, her way she was vicariously fulfilled of time no longer objected when he took to
faindy at
husband's impressions. In
and
on
to keep her
her brimming with re\ailsion; but she became
aware that through the bridge of
was
took
to lay beside the copulating
lence except in the matter of insisting this stage left
He
first
this
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Equilibrium
a homosexual bed. R's lovers accepted her presence, as
were the incarnate
their inner clockworks.
new complacency was
ished.
It
she
of the frustrated feminine persona
spirit
which was the mainspring of their
if
became necessary
But
when
established, the obstacle dimin-
to initiate
new
somatic obstacles.
In-
woman was added to the Siamese coupling, to make it a tripling, a woman on R.'s left. Over a period of several evitably,
another
months more were added,
after the
proper blood
tests.
Today,
they are joined to six other people in a ring of exquisite Siamese
The juncmring travels in a circle so the first is joined to the eighth, linked with someone else on both sides. All face inward. There are four men and four women, a literal wedding multiplicity.
ring. (Is this a
romantic
Arrayed as they are in an
story, Tonto.^)
unbreakable ring, they necessarily go to great lengths to over-
come had
practical
and psychological handicaps. For example, they
to practice for
two days
to learn
D.'s Learjet. Four, usually the
how
women,
to collectively
ride in the
board
arms of the
other four; they sidle into the plane, calling signals for the steps.
new
This enforced teamwork lends a
mundane
daily affairs.
Going
most
perspective to the
to the toilet
becomes a yogic
cise requiring the utmost concentration. For but one
exer-
man
to
pee, each of the joined must provide a precisely measured de-
gree of pressure
each
man
turns, the
.
.
.
They have been
can copulate with the
man
diagonal.
one coupling at a time nal to
surgically arranged so that
woman
or, in
Homosexual relations are limited to members of the same sex are diago-
since
one another. Heterosexually, the
neously
opposite him
The surgeons have continuated
cell
has sex simulta-
the nerve ends through
the links so that the erogenous sensations of one are shared by all. I
was
privileged to observe
robatic orgies.
nude
I
one of these highly practiced
ac-
admit to a secret yen to participate, to stand
in the center of the circle
and experience
flesh-tone pis-
ton-action from every point of the compass. But this is below my Degree; only the Fiigh Priest's divine mount, the Perfect and
Unscrubbed Silver, may know him
carnally
.
.
.
Copulating as an
anemone
capturing a ocmplet whole, they resemble a pink sea wriggling minnow. Or perhaps interlocked fingers of arm wresders.
Or
a letter written
all
in
one paragraph, a
single unit
.
.
.
But suppose a fight breaks out between the grafted Worshippers? Suppose one of them should die or take sick? If one conReally, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
347
John Shirley
348 Equilibrium
tracts
an
should
went is all
until
come down with
ultimately
illness, all
die,
it.
And
if
one
they would have to carry the corpse wherever they
it
rotted
away— the operation
is
irreversible.
But that
part of the Divine Process.
Yours
very, very affectionately.
The Lone Ranger Mrs. Hobbes found the it
with
visible alarm,
the mailbox, and
letter in
and brought
to her husband,
it
yard, preparing to barbecue the ribs of a pig.
printed with the words,
FORGET was
lit
letter,
given
He was wearing an
apron
almost obliterated by a rusty splash of sauce.
Hobbes, read the the letter
Seeing
She read
it.
DON'T FORGET TO KISS THE CHER The word
letter,
frowning.
get crazier with this junk mail
He
opened
who was in the back-
on
fire
and used
smiled with
this, I
all
"I'll
be goshdarned," he
the time. it
relief,
Goddamned
If
softly said: "Click!"
from the sanitarium,
A letter for a
Robin Hobbes had
Mr. and Mrs. Hobbes had discerned the
cation of the inverted clue
I
"They
to start the charcoal.
and
equilibrium for the destruction of the letter
me in Honduras.
said.
pornographic."
would have been forced
to the custody of the
to release
impli-
Robin
Army.
When the day came for my joke, I had my friend bring Robin over to my hotel room, which was conveniently two blocks from the Hobbes' residence. It
should be a harmless gesture to describe
don't disclose his name.
Meditech friend
is
Not
is
Composer
friend, as long as
in face but
one
pudgy and square shouldered. His
they're too thin for his body.
and there
a
my
His hair
is
in spirit,
legs
look
I
my like
clipped close to his small skull
a large white scar dividing his scalp, running from the crown
The scar is a gift from one of his an unguarded moment. My friend wears thick wire-rim glasses with an elastic band connecting them in the rear. Over Robin's noisy protests I prepared him for the joke. To shut him of his head to the bridge of his nose.
patients, given in
up
I
considered cutting out his tongue. But that would require compen-
sating with
some
erly devise.
So
I
act restoring equilibrium
which
I
had not time
setded for adhesive tape, over his mouth.
And
to prop-
of course
the other thing, stuck through a hole in the tape.
Mr. Hobbes was driveway.
The
at
home,
his
front of the car
Miss America bodyform car
filled
the
was crumpled from a minor accident of
the night before, and her arms were corrugated, bent unnaturally
Really, Really, Really, Really,
in-
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Equilibrium 349
ward, one argent hand shoved whole into her open and battered mouth. Suppressing sniggers-I admit
olds—my friend and
We
like
two twelve-year
dashed to the nearest concealment, a holly bush undulating
faint It
we were
this freely,
brought Robin to the porch and rang the doorbell.
I
summer
was
shortly after sunset, eight-thirty p.m.
returned from a long Tuesday at the office.
commiserating with ring,
his
Mss
abused
and Mr. Hobbes had
He
America.
was
silent
Two
had
to bite his lip to keep
humor had
quite
and grumpy, in hand.
from laughing out loud. But
gone out of the moment.
It
just
minutes after our
Marvin Hobbes opened the front door, newspaper
friend
in the
breeze.
for
My
me, the
was a solemn moment, one
with a dignified and profound resonance.
Mrs. Hobbes peered over Marvin's shoulder, right hand;
hidden in
Bobby, behind
his left
electric shaver in
her, stared over the top of her wig,
her
something
hand. Simultaneously, the entire family screamed, their
instantaneous timing perhaps confirming that they were true relatives after
all.
They found Rob
as
we had left him on the
doorstep, swaddled in baby
blankets, diapered in a couple of Huggies disposable diapers, a pacifier
stuck through the tape over his mouth, covered to the neck in gingham
one of his darling stumps peeked through). And equipped with a plastic baby bottle. The shreds of his arms and legs had been cloth (though
amputated shortly his chest
after the
was a note
(I
mortar attack on Puerto Barrios. Pinned to
lettered
thought would reflect the
mood
it
myself in the crude handwriting
of a desperate mother.)
PLEASE TAKE CARE OF
Really, Really, Really, Really,
MY BABY
Weird Stories
The note
I
said:
What Cindy Saw
The people from shell,
the clinic were very nice.
and people w^ho
electric football
number of v^ay
the
the shell often behaved nicely, and w^ith
like
the
little
magnetically-moved toy players on
game. They seemed very
quirky details making
Doctor Gainsborough
of his eye, for example.
them
And
the
and they had a
sincere,
much more
ever so
w^as alw^ays plucking things
forever rubbing
allergies.
Doctor Gainsborough admitted, with every appearance of
was mysterious and
The
realistic.
from the corner
way Nurse Rebeck was
her crusty red nose and complaining of
that, yes, life
on
course, they lived
on
uniformity of purpose,
an
Of
lived
ultimately
sincerity,
Cindy might well be
about the way things were under what she called "the
right
Doctor
shell."
Gainsborough couldn't be sure that she was wrong—but, Cindy, they said,
we
have our doubts, serious doubts, and
sider our doubts,
and our reasoning, and
we would
give
like
Doctor Gainsborough had known Cindy would respond of politely considering her ideas. Cindy was, after
And crazy
she simply refused to respond at
and seeing
Yes, Cindy,
it's
best that
fair-minded.
when people
said,
you could be
we keep up
told her she
was
But
we
right.
still,
the treatments. All right?
and taught her how
Stelazine
she stopped talking about the
clinic's pet. It
shell, after
a while.
make jeweky. She became the
to
was Doctor Gainsborough himself who took her home,
after "just three
months
this time,
and no shock treatments."
off in front of her parents' house,
window
all,
to his pretense
Doctor Gainsborough.
So they'd given her the
And
to con-
things.
Doctor Gainsborough
have severe doubts, so All right.
all
you
our viewpoint a chance.
to shake his hand.
and she reached
She even smiled.
He
in
He
let
her
through the car
smiled back and
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
What Cindy Saw
crinkled his blue eyes,
and she
stepped onto the curb.
He was pulled away down the street; pulled away
straightened, took her
hand back, and
by the car he drove. She was ing toward the house. She
was climbing the the shell
left with the house. She knew she was turnknew she was walking toward it. She knew she
steps.
But
was so subde
that
all
walking and climbing, when pulled through
the time she
you could
But best you think
She had practiced
and
it
at
all.
you.
it's it,
from
pull
turning
You were being
wasn't you doing
it
The
know Vm
the time you weren't.
all
those motions, so
all
the pull.
felt
think: /
amongst the obstacle course of the now, and she manage to suppress her
that steering
mind's free associations. She did
it
sense of the pull.
She .
.
.
felt fine.
just
trees.
She
normal.
fine because she felt nothing.
felt
The house looked
like
though.
like
The house seemed unusuone home? And where was Doobie? The dog
Picture-book house, picture-book
ally quiet,
Nothing much. Just
a house, the trees looked
No
trees.
wasn't tied up out front this time. She'd always been afraid of the Dober-
man. She was
relieved he
was gone. Probably gone
She opened the door—funny,
door unlocked.
It
wasn't
like
their
not being
off with the family.
home and
Dad. Dad was paranoid.
He
leaving the
He even admitted
Mom
smoked pot and listened to old Jimi Hendrix records and, when they thought Cindy was asleep, screwed lisriessly on the sofa. it.
"I
smoke Paranoid
"Hello? Dad?
Good. She
Pot,"
Mom?"
felt like
style
it
at
said.
called,
home
No random
that weren't harmless.
scope:
Cindy
being
nothing to cope with.
he
was constantly
Watching
and
now.
No
alone. Playing a
CD, watching TV,
factors, or scarcely any.
TV was
of intricacy, but there was never anything
And none
looking into a kaleido-
like
going through
shifting,
answer.
its
motions with
really
own Or al-
its
unexpected.
most never. Once Cindy had turned it on and watched a Japanese monster movie. And the Japanese monster movie had been too much like a caricature of the shell. Like they were mocking her by showing what they knew. What they knew she knew.
Now,
she told herself. Think about now. She turned from the entry-
hall to the
archway opening into the
In the living
had been sofa.
room was something
in the
rec-room of the
Here, though,
it
living
room.
that looked very
clinic she'd
much
like
a sofa.
have been quite sure
it
If it
was a
twilight of sat corpulent and dusty blue-gray in the
the living room, scrolled arm-rests a litde too tightly
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
wound;
it
sprawled
351
352
What Cindy Saw ominously
John Shirley
ral in its texture. It
had a graininess she'd never noticed before. Like one
of those ugly, irregular scraps of thing
whose
stickiness has given
it
was shaped
like It
membranous
the seashore, a
jellyfish at
Even more disorienting was the
tumescent.
room. There was something unnatu-
in the very center of the
a coating of sand.
sofa-thing's ostensibly familiar shape. It
a sofa. But there was something bloated about
was
just
a shade bulkier than
it
it,
something
should have been. As
if it
were
swollen from eating.
So
that's their secret,
she thought.
It's
the sofa. Normally
thing unusual about it—because normally
She wondered
Maybe
it
who it had eaten. One
had eaten the whole
wouldn't be
home when
I
don't catch
of her
it
sisters?
don't notice any-
I
just after
it
has eaten.
The house was
silent.
But then Mother had said that they
family.
she got there: she remembered now.
nurses had told Doctor Gainsborough. Sometimes the Stelazine
One of the made Cindy
forget things.
They had gone out to one
last
dinner.
They wanted
time before Cindy came home.
dinner with Cindy. Cindy had a
denouncing
things, Cindy,"
pain in the ass
when you do
and then maybe the
Dad
It
to
go out to dinner, probably,
was embarrassing
way of denouncing
"You ought to mellow
said.
that shit."
she would say eamesdy,
know
like
a
TV
on the
harmony with our environment
earrings, "but you're
my
his
talking
is
about terrorism.
an attempt to delude us
that isn't there at
dad would
say,
all."
brushing
beard or maybe tugging on one of
his
a pain in the ass."
still
could be," Cindy said aloud to the sofa, "that you've eaten one of
sisters. I
you
waitress,
table that reveals the deception,"
commentator
you're precocious, Cindy," her
crumbs of French bread from
"It
to
out. You're a
Cindy would denounce the
"This constant imposition of symmetrical pattern
"I
go out
tables, the tablecloths, the folds in the tablecloth. "It's
the symmetry in the checker-pattern
into a sense of a
to
things. "You're always
that
Still,
don't really
mind
you are not going
that.
But
I
must
hastily
and firmly assure
to eat me."
she wanted to find out
more about
the sofa-thing. Cautiously.
She went to the kitchen, fetched a can opener and a
flashlight,
and
on the polished wooden
par-
returned to the living room.
She played the
light
on
the thing that sat
quet floor.
The
sofa-thing's legs, she
seemed
to
saw now, were
be growing out of
it.
seeing was a kind of blossom.
It
clearly fused to the floor: they
Cindy nodded to
must have roots
herself. far
What
she was
underground.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley The
beam
sofa-thing quivered self-consciously in the
With the head
What Cindy Saw
light,
of her flashlight.
hand-she could have turned on the overbut she knew^ she'd need the flashlight for the caverns be-
flashlight in her left
neath the shell-she approached the sprawling, blue-gray thing, careful
not to get too close. In her right hand w^as the can opener.
seemed
All the while, she
to hear a backseat driver saying: This isnt
You should go upstairs and watch TV and move from moment to moment thinking safely, steering around the obstacles, part of the program.
turning the wheel
away from
tending you don't
know what you know.
the dangerous
clumps of association,
pre-
Her Stelazine was nearly worn off and the couch had starded her into a wrong turn, and now she was on a side road in a foreign suburb and she didn't know the route back to the familiar highBut
was too
it
And
way.
late.
there were
no policemen she might
ask,
no mental cops
like
Doctor Gainsborough.
So Cindy crept toward the couldn't hurt her unless she sat
sofa-thing.
on
it.
If
She decided that the sofa
you
on
sat
it, it
would
curl up,
enfold you. Venus's-flytrap.
She knelt by
from
cushions.
its
Sensing her intent,
its legs.
It
it
bucked a
dust rising
little,
contracted, the cushions humping.
made an
It
awful sound.
She began to work on
worked
eight minutes she
The
sofa-thing
its legs,
made
where they joined the
floor.
For
thirty-
busily with the can opener.
a series of prolonged, piteous sounds.
Her arm
ached, but the can opener was surprisingly sharp. Soon she had the cavity under the sofa partly exposed; you could see it under the flap-edge of the
Cindy took a deep breath, and prised the flap so it opened was dark in there. Musky smell; musky and faintly metallic, like
shell.
wider.
It
lubricant for a motor.
And
a faint under-scent of rot.
By degrees, working hard, she the sofa. Nature
parquet floor
was
till
rolled
back the skin of the floor around
ingenious; the skin had looked like a
now.
hardwood
and appropriately
had been hard and The skin was hard-but not as hard as it the bark of a tree, if you were patient like back solid
It
grained. Marvelous camouflage.
looked.
and
You could peel it mind aching fingers. Cindy
didn't
didn't mind.
keening rose to a crescendo, so loud and The had to move back and clap her hands over her ears. sofa-thing's
And
then, the sofa folded in
muffled
like a
on
itself.
Its
shrill
Cindy
sirening folded too,
scream trying to escape from a hand clamped over a
small child's mouth.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
353
354
What Cindy Saw The
sofa
was
ished, sucked floor.
John Shirley
into a dark
The house was
Cindy shined the
anemone
a sea
like
down
closing up;
wound
it
deflated, shrank, van-
in the center of the living-room
once more.
quiet
wound.
flashlight into the
It
was damp, oozing, red
The house's blood didn't gush, it bled in droplets, The thick, vitreous underflesh shuddered and drew
flecked with yellow. like perspiration.
back when she prodded
it
with her can opener.
She tucked the can opener into her boot, and knelt by the
wound
for
a better look. She shined the flashlight into the deepness, into the secret, into the under-shell
.
.
.
The house supposedly had no basement. Nevertheless, beneath the room floor was a chamber. It was about the same size as the living room. Its walls were gently concave and slickly wet—but not organic. The living
wetness was a kind of machine lubrication. In the center of the chamber
was a column, the understem of the her house. thick stalk
strands in
creature that
stalk.
She wondered why the house hadn't struck all
as
The column, she reflected, was actually more of a stalk; a made of cables. And they wound about one another like the a powerline. The sofa must have been sucked into its natural
hiding place, compressed within the
them
had masqueraded
till
today.
Why hadn't
it
got
while they were sleeping? But probably the undershell people, the
programmers, hadn't bred
to
it
be a ravenous, unselective
there for the elimination oi select people—she realized this
nation for the disappearance of their houseguests.
such people
home
in the last
two
years,
carnivore.
It
must be the
was
expla-
Mom had brought four
bedded each one on the
sofa,
and
each of them hadn't been there for breakfast. Aw^fully curious, awfully coinci-
Cindy had thought, every houseguest deciding to
dental, fast.
Now Cindy knew that they hadn't left the house at
part of
it.
They'd become
all.
Mom usually
Probably that was what had happened to Doobie—
him
wouldn't
let
her
Belinda sometimes
sister
leave before break-
sleep in the house, let
dog must have snuck onto the
and never allowed him on the
Doobie
in after
sofa.
But
Mom had gone to bed; the
sofa for a nap, the sofa's genetically pro-
grammed eating hour had come around, and it had done to Doobie what a sea anemone does to a minnow. Enfolded, paralyzed, and digested him. Cindy didn't mind. She'd always hated Doobie. She floor
lay face
down, peering into the gap
was about fourteen
feet
beneath
the sub-world, to explore. Cindy
them what
A
in the house's skin.
her.
The
under-
She considered dropping to
shook her head. Best go
for help.
Show
she'd found.
funny feeling
in
her stomach warned her to look up.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
The
What Cindy Saw
living-room archway was gone.
gone.
A
It had sealed off. The windows were had grown over them. She had alarmed the So it had trapped her.
sort of scar tissue
creature, cutting into
Cindy made a
it.
small, high uh!
sound
to the nearest wall, pressed her like
hard
like
wet
plaster, clay.
a
itself like
juices
but
it
against
She stood, and went
it.
It
should have
felt
The house would ooze
in a mudslide,
from her and
flat
depressed under her fingers, taking her handprint
Softening.
hill
in her throat.
hands
and
it
in on her, collapsing on would pulp her and squeeze the
drink.
She turned to the gash she'd made paper becoming ash. But
in the floor. Its edges
were curling
up
like
on
the flashlight, knelt, and wriggled through the opening, dropping to
the floor below.
it
The impact stung
was
closing, too.
the balls of her
She got a good grip
feet.
Cindy straightened, breathing hard, and looked around. Tunnels opened from the chamber on both
sides, stretching as far as
she could see. She stepped into the right-hand tunnel. just
two
feet overhead;
it
The
ceiling
was curved and smooth. She walked
feeling her way with one hand, shining her flashlight beam at the The darkness was rich with implications, and Cindy felt her nerve
She had a vice-squeezing sensation electricity in
and
floor. falter.
and a kind of greasy
at her temples,
her tongue. She tried to picture the
raygun's laser, straight
flashlight's
beam
brightly furious, burning the darkness
Gradually, though, her eyes adjusted, and the darkness
tant.
At
intervals the
oblong of
light
hardly
room
ing this
seemed
less
like trans-
plastic wires
came
spaced sheaves of eight or nine. Sometimes there was to squeeze
way and
that.
guitar string, but with
between them. Then, she'd
When
she brushed a wire,
an overtone to
desert insect. She sensed, in the
The
afire.
longer impor-
picked out what looked
parent fishing lines passing from floor to ceiHng. in irregularly
beam no
as a
away—
but the light was weak, and set only a small patch of the darkness
dense, less oppressively pregnant, the flashlight
was
slowly,
somehow,
its
hum
it
that
that the wires
upper world. They certainly iverent
sidle through, twist-
would resonate was had
installed
like
like the call
to
do with
by the
a
of a
events
utility
com-
pany, she said to herself.
She came to a place where the wall was transparent, a clear patch big as her two hands put together. It was a little cloudy, but Cindy could see through
it
into another chamber;
two men
sat in there at a
metal
table.
white rectangles in their hands
They were playing cards, the little marked with mazes and mandalas instead of Really, Really, Really, Really,
the usual kings and queens
Weird Stories
355
.
356
.
What Cindy Saw and
jacks
man was hunched over his hand, deep in One sat with his back to her. He was the smaller man; he
and spades. Each
concentration.
had gray
The other was a round-faced man: brown beard streaked with white. The
hair.
weight, his
rumpled
John Shirley
and trousers of a contemporary
jacket
many decades
threadbare suit
There were two bunks, a lying
under the
outdated.
toilet, trays
table. "It's
lightly.
He
little
man wore
bigger
cut; the other
The room looked
over-
like
a
a
wore a jail cell.
of half-eaten food, empty beer cans
your bid. Mister Fort," said the bearded man,
with humorous formality "Right you
man
stocky, a
are.
Mister Dick," said the other
slapped a card face-up on the table and said, "M.C.
Escher against Aztec Maze." The other
man
sighed. "Ah, you've locked
You win. It's not fair: you had decades to practice, playing against ." Dammit I wish they'd let us smoke Cindy banged on the glass, and shouted, but she couldn't make them hear her. Or perhaps they pretended not to. She shrugged, and went on. Another ten strides further something glimmered on the left, reflecting again.
Bierce.
her
.
flashlight's
beam.
It
was a
The mirror
into the wall.
ludicrously elongated.
.
long, vertical, rectangular mirror, set flush
making her seem
distorted Cindy's reflection,
She reached out to touch
it,
and
accidentally
brushed one of the wires; the transparent wire thrummed and her image in the mirror
shimmered, vibrating in and out of
visibility in
a frequency
sympathetic to the wires quivering. She struck the wire again, harder, to see
what
it
would do
and vanished, and
mundane
in
image
to the
its
place
was
street scene, children
in the mirror.
a flickering
walking
Her
reflection fluttered
image of the upper world.
home from
VW Rabbit driven by an elderly lady
impatiently behind a slow-moving
On a hunch, a hunch that became an impulse,
A
school, cars honking .
.
Cindy struck the mnnel
wires repeatedly, as hard as she could.
The mirror—really out of control, the
a kind of
TV monitor—showed
the traffic careening
VW Rabbit backing up at great speed, ploughing into
the others, the children losing control of their limbs and flapping haphazardly at one another.
Cindy
tittered.
She took the can opener from her boot and slashed ing the "mirror"
And
in the
all
the while.
The
with a protesting whang.
upper world: children exploded, cars began to wrap around
one another, suddenly becoming telephone poles ... a great buildings
strings parted
at the wires, watch-
away
.
soft
and
pliable, tying
invisible current
swept the
themselves round
street,
washing the
.
Cindy smiled and went her way down the
tunnel,
randomly snipping wires.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
What Cindy Saw
John Shirley 00 CO 00
Every few hundred yards she came to an intersection of tunnels; three
opening to the
right, three to the left,
Sometimes Cindy changed direction lowing her
intuition, vaguely
grovm up
to
what looked
at these
continuing
on ahead.
subworld crossroads,
into a circular
room
thick, red-yellow stalk; a corded,
merge with the like
own
fol-
aware that she had a specific destination.
At length the tunnel opened out which was another
her
ceiling.
in the center of
man-thick
stalk,
But here, the walls swarmed with
oversized aphids. Mechanical aphids, each big as her
hand, and the color of a blue-metal razor blade. They clung to the walls in
groups of twenty or
thirty,
only a hand's width between each group; the
aphids crawled methodically on small metal legs thin and numerous as the
on
brisdes of a hairbrush;
the right-hand wall they
swarmed between
TV monitors. She switched off her flashlight; there was enough from the TV screens. Standing at the monitors, spaced more or less
banks of light
evenly,
were a score of dusty blue
of newspaper. Looking
was
in
some kind of
closer,
fellows, vaguely
inscrutable cipher, quite unreadable.
photos showed only half-recognizable
For the
first
human wearing jumpsuits
Cindy could see that the newspaper print
And
the
news
silhouettes.
time, real uneasiness shivered
pieces of fear, like irregular hailstones, rattled
and
bits
and
dovm through
the
chill
up
in her,
focal-heart of her sensations.
Fear because the
men
without noses, without eyes. that's
And
at the ears.
monitors were entirely without mouths,
Each had only
large, blinking, watery-gray
fear because: with Cindy's arrival in the
what they were, began
to
move
room, the aphids,
feverishly-but
if
somehow purpose-
mandala patterns over the walls, rustling through a thick coating of shag-rug cilia: the cilia, she saw now, covered the walls everywhere. It was the color of a throat with a bad cold. The mouthless men used three-fingered hands to manipulate knobs on fully-in
the frames of the
TV
monitors.
Now
and then one of them reached up
and brushed an aphid; something in the touch galvanized the creature so that it scurried furiously up the wall, parting the cilia and altering the symmetrical patterns made by the collective motion of the other aphids.
The TV with inset
pictures
were black-and-white. The floor was
silver wires;
alabaster, patterned
the wires were arcanely configured, and occasionally
sparked at the touch of the metal shod feet of the aknost-people.
them almost-people. light, and she saw that in the small of dim Her umbilicus. The long, attenuated black an each almost-person's back was Cindy had decided to
call
eyes adjusted to the
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
357
358
What Cindy Saw
John Shirley
umbilicus drooped, then rose to attach to the base of the thick red-yel-
low
much
chamber,
stalk in the center of the
as a
May Day
reveller's
ribbon attaches to a maypole. Cindy supposed that the umbilici
mouths and noses unnecessary Cindy was trol,
So
afraid,
made
for the almost-people.
but that always put her on the offensive. Take con-
she told herself. just to see
what would happen, she went about the room and—with
her can opener—methodically clipped the umbilici severing the almost-
people from the
stalk.
The almost-people stopped what they were looked
Cindy wondered
how
they
felt.
outraged or hurt? She couldn't
One by one twitched,
they
fell,
Were they alarmed or
felt
clutching their spindly throats.
making the wire-patterns on the floor a
little
surprised or
tell.
Cindy supposed that they were choking She
doing; they turned and
at her.
They writhed and and
spit blue sparks,
to death.
sorry this time. She even said so. "Oh, I'm sorry."
After a few minutes, they stopped moving. Their big eyes shut. Breathing shakily, Cindy stepped over the corpses and screens.
She was careful not to step on the
was sure she'd be electrocuted
The TV
screens monitored
life
silver
went
one of the
to
TV
wires in the floor; she
she did.
if
on
the upper world. Reticulating charcoal-
and-chalk video images of houses and motels and
traffic
and dogs.
Junkyards. Traffic lights changing. Farms. Seaside resorts. Canadian hikers.
Rock singers. ily
trying to
A teenage boy with stringy blond hair and a thin chest shak-
fill
a syringe from a rusty spoon. Jazz players. Masturbating
children. Masturbating
gazed for a while
at a
men and women.
Masturbating monkeys. She
TV showing two people
copulating in a hotel room.
They were both middle-aged and rather doughy. The man's hair was thinning, and his paunch waggled with his hip motions; the woman's hair was as defined
and permanent
Impulsively,
in shape as a hat.
A bell-shaped hat.
Cindy reached out and twiddled the monitor's unmarked
black-plastic knobs.
The
picture shimmered, changed: the
woman's head
warped, bent out of shape, reified—it had become the head of a chimpanzee.
The man screamed and disengaged and backed
woman
clawed
away.
The
at herself.
Cindy made a moue with her
lips,
and
tilted
her head.
She reached up and prodded a number of the metallic aphids with her can opener. They scurried, frightened at the unfamiliar touch, and set
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
What Cindy Saw
John Shirley the others to scurrying clinging to the hysteria, their
rounded
more
frantically,
ceiling
TV
at the
the thousands of aphids
were reshaping
symmetry of pattern
Cindy looked
till
in the cilia in
monitors.
Now
they showed only crowd
scenes. People at football games, looking confused
they'd
all
flailing,
gone blind and
and
deaf; they staggered into
or tripped, went tumbling
down
distressed, as
down toward
crowding
it,
the playing
and began
field.
if
one another, arms
the grandstands, upsetting
move
cohe-
They streamed onto the
field,
other people—but, as Cindy watched, the people began to sively
swarming
obliterated.
to arrange themselves according to the dictates
of a spontaneously reconceived psychic schema: people wearing white or yellow shirts
moved
together, people with dark shirts congregated,
the bird's eye view of the stadium
showed
till
the crowd spelling out words
with their re-ordered color scheme. They spelled out:
ZEITGEIST and then
LOVE TIMES DEATH EQUALS ACTION and then
LACEWORK REBELLION Cindy turned away. She approached the
stalk in the center of the
room. With the can opener stuck in her teeth, she began to climb. going was slippery, but she was determined, and soon reached the ing.
Arms and
legs aching, she clung there and, with
The ceil-
one hand, began
to
carve an opening.
The toil
skin parted
more
easily
from the underside. Ten minutes of painful to climb through. Cindy dropped the can
and the gap was wide enough
opener and
wormed
her
way upward, through
She broke through a second
layer,
the
wound
gnawing with her
in the ceiling.
teeth,
coming up
through the skin of another seeming-floor.
She found herself under what looked like an ordinary four-legged wooden table. Around her were four empty wooden chairs, and a white floor-length tablecloth.
She dragged herself out of the wet, shuddering slit, and onto the floor. Gasping, she pressed aside the tablecloth, which had so far concealed Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
359
360
What Cindy Saw
John Shirley
her from those outside, and crawled into the upper world, once
atop the
shell.
She was
in a restaurant.
Mom and
Dad and
more
Belinda and Barbara sat at
the next table.
They stared
at her,
open-mouthed. "What the
The
you, Cindy?" her father asked.
girls
hell
looked a
Cindy was coated with the wemess, the
have you got
all
over
little sick.
stickiness, the
halfblood death
essence of underplace things. Still
crawled out
Her upset
down and wound shed
breathing hard, her head pounding, Cindy reached
lifted the tablecloth aside, revealing of.
This time, her family saw
father got it,
and
the ragged, oozing
his
up from the wine
it
too.
table rather convulsively, so that
He
glass splashed his wife's dress.
and, fumbling for his pot-pouch, staggered toward the
had covered
Mom's
face
their eyes.
exit.
They sobbed. Her mother was
was changing; the eyes growing
her skin going dusty-blue. So, then.
he nearly
turned away
Her
sisters
staring at her.
bigger, the lips vanishing,
Her mother was
the one they'd
planted in the family. "They're not under every house," Cindy tried to explain to her
sisters.
"They
where
Her
to look. TTiey sisters
keep us blinded with
false
how
symmetries."
followed their father outdoors.
Cindy turned away. "Fuck them subworld eyes on her back as she the table. She
You might dig to look. Not
aren't always there to find.
under our house and not find it—you have to know
slid feet-first into
all,
fell
the
then," she said. to her knees
She
felt
her mother's
and crawled back under
wound, and dropped
into the
room
below. She searched through the monitors, and found a screen showing
her dad and her
sisters getting into
the
car.
She turned the knobs, and
laughed, seeing the car rising into the sky Hke a helium balloon with the string cut turning
end over end, Belinda
father screaming as the car deliquesced, that
hung
in the air
and then burst
spilling
out of
it
and
falling,
her
becoming a huge drop of mercury
into a thousand glittering droplets,
fall-
ing to spatter the parking lot with argent toxicity.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
The Almost Empty Rooms As images seen
in
a dream, thus should one see
all things.
—Vajracchedika Sutra
Part
I
of Primary Syntax
AIR RVID ALERT It
was on
television at 8:36
A.M. when no one expects catastrophes.
AIR RAID ALERT LISTINGS OF LOCAL FALLOUT SHELTERS/ALPHABETIC ORDER (Alphabetical shelter listings for the county. Screen flickers, distant siren.
Blank screen.)
My wife made a blank scream: Nothing came out of her opened mouth. She ran to get the It
children. Charles
and Andrea had
just left for school.
was a pleasant morning, other than for the alert, and the sky was and crisp. I felt no apprehension, seeing the TV announcement. I
clear
had expected
it; it
right
wheelchair, looking out
ous to see
The
all
on
time.
and was wheeling between kitchen and study
I'd just risen, tric
was
first
in
my elec-
one window, then another, mildly
curi-
the neighbors were running in and out of their houses.
children had laughed, watching the ludicrous scene through the
window. The neighbors flung themselves their front lawns like
tawdry
into cars or scurried about
on
rags caught in a dust-devil, huffing in circles
about the mounds of furnimre, clothing, and appliances, quibbling over
what less
to take.
I
gazed over their heads:
it
was
crisp
and
chilly,
the cloud-
sky was hollowed out turquoise.
FALLOUT SHELTER LIMIT OPTIMUM: EQUIVALENCY OF 500 POUNDS PER REGISTERED FAMILY OF TWO PERSONS IN POSSESSIONS
OR RELATIVES
said the stark letters
sage played over and over.
matic replay and gone
The men home to
at the
on the
TV screen. The
TV station had left it on autofamilies. No one
their respective
TV station, but the machines there still told AIR RAID ALERT/CML DEFENSE COMMAND 56648.
remained
at the
Really, Really, Really, Really,
mes-
Weird Stories
us to run.
362
The Almost Empty Rooms
John Shirley
went outside to see what was keeping my wife and children (but I knew). I had no intention of taking them to a fallout shelter (though I'd known). It would do no good, not a bit. As I rolled onto my ramp I
by the front steps
heard a roar, clutched
I
my
at
The
wheel-rims.
ground shuddered. I
the
looked up:
My
stark against the sky. X-factors
ered up there: in abeyance. stinctively waiting, to catch
I
shaded
was not light,
day
my
and
this
my
It
I
waited with
them
as they
boy were
in
A great gust of
be seen.
my
arms outstretched,
But they never
fell.
in-
fell.
the east.
and sudden
my face
But
as a labor pain.
was penetrating; the atomic
eyes did not melt nor
was— I had
moment.
I
eight-year-old
to
like plastic kites. They became crosses on a blackboard, my children. They hov-
eyes. Light, piercing
blinding.
my
My wife was nowhere
wind had picked the kids up
A great light from
and
six-year-old girl
overhead.
far
air,
flash
scorch.
I
was a
it
revealing
remembered what
shut the eroding calendar out of
my mind
till
that
had stopped up expectancy with self-hypnotism. This day was
February 10, 2048. I
had expected
The
all
of
this.
nuclear vortex reared up black-bellied with scar-white plumage.
White-hot lathing wind cut our flesh from us in
lessly. It
I
was
bath.
ent
was almost disappointed.
didn't hurt, not even for a
mother undressing a
skins didn't fly off in crazy bits
spirals,
from a
It
as loving as the fingers of a
Our
spiral strips,
and ragged
a slack minaret above us, whirling us
spindle), faster, faster until
my
bone, molded by centrifugal force.
It
a caged songbird.
We
borhood children (those rooted each
were
now
at
ash.
unwinding
like toys (yarn
skeleton fused into a single long
was
all
quite painless.
my
were not blown away and up
thirteen
moment.
child for the
pieces, but in coher-
sciousness never ceased nor faltered, but fluttered in like
but— and
amazing grace, the happy surprise—gracefully, smoothly, pain-
here's the
and under).
And
con-
fused remains like
My neighbors
the neigh-
and
I
were
our special point, afloat above the lawns whose grasses
We
resonated from the explosions which detonated har-
moniously, complementing one another pleasantly, their force snatching the ground neatly upward like a pickpocket
artistically
plucking a wallet.
There was no pain or discomfort, even when our bodies were only vague memories. There was to be no pain at
all
in this surgery. It
was
performed by professionals. Part
I
of Secondary Syntax
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
I
The Almost Empty Rooms
John Shirley
Hypothesis: Events are animals. Events are living creatures, vv^hose com-
anatomy and
plete
functioning
Corollary:
If
fleshly
dimensions are
invisible to us,
because
ignorantly but efficiendy comprising their
cells
we
are
body make-up.
an event could be predicted and confirmed according to
the characteristic metabolic cycle and inductive-excretive requirements of the event-organisms body, then
it
might be possible to
alter the
course of
anticipated incidents through working with the event-creature's nervous
system to I I
shift its actions in
was going to
midcourse. Confuse
try to interfere
it,
perhaps.
with a certain sad but small-scale disaster
had predicted would take place on the afternoon of August This was to be a If
I
could stop
Simon For
this small-scale
Chelsez, then
events, to divert I
11,
2047.
test.
I
mishap concerning a young
might use
World War
knew: World War
this
model
man named
for the manipulation of
III.
would
III
arrive
on
the
morning of February
10, 2048. If
the experiment with
my way
Simon Chelsez was
successful,
End of
Humanity^, and
would
trace
clusters of event-organisms busily con-
through the interacting
structing the foundations for the structure they called as the
I
Fun and we knew
there, at the nexus of the crises, intercept
World War. complex and circumlocutionaty ludicrous
the gestation of the Third
The
origin of this
series
of
endeavors was disillusioningly simple: I
didn't
want
to die.
Part
II
of Secondary Syntax
In form Astral, with sensations Subde,
I
conducted myself along the
damp
web-work of the incident-neural system to the apartment of a young man and his mother who lived across from the elementary school. I traced my
way from
a teacher's repressed
memory of a child's death (ghosdy reenact-
ment) to the young man's recollection of the accident: a teacher had seen a child killed on the street corner on which Simon Chelsez and his mother
Simon had seen the truck hit the little girl, watching from his bedroom window, and it had not moved him. The litde girl had been nearly divided in half by the truck's right front tire. The child's blood left a Ror-
lived;
schach inkblot on the white concrete, the
blot's
him of a knight killing a dragon. The teacher was an acquaintance of mine,
red configuration remind-
ing
code down. She was connected
eternally with
Really, Really, Really, Really,
I
had her vibratory
identity
Simon, though she'd never
Weird Stories
363
364
The Almost Empty Rooms met him
face to face,
by
accident; together they
from one person to the
Simon was gazing
cuits. I
in
which they lived.
other:
astral
at a
worked cell
room with Simon
mnemonic
in the
my way, psychically,
to the next.
Chelsez.
holographic programmer, trying to decide
He was
play.
I
from one brain
invisibly sharing a
which program to with him in
mutual cross-referenced recollections of the
their
were functioning memory-cells
bank of the event-animal
And I was
John Shirley
form only
I
completely unaware of me, since
I
was
secluded myself amongst programmer
cir-
Observing him through the reticulating eye of the event-organism,
perceived his surface thoughts clearly as plays and flares of polychro-
matic tions
crown of the sinuous tube of incident-composi-
lights defining the
marking
All of his
his
wake of
passage.
holographic movies starred the same hero: Captain Horatio
Alphonso. The holos were projected onto the center space of the almost empty
room was
room through
fifty
by
fifty feet,
center. Nineteen-year-old
programmer, was a
lenses set flush into the ceiling.
empty except
Simon Chelsez,
short, stocky,
Alphonso, Simon knew
all
Alphonso appeared
you'd walked into the
The white in
its
exact
owner of the holo-
the Alphonso holos by heart.
hummed,
in the
the present
bed
and muscular Chicano. Like Captain
the program-selector, leaving the setting
overhead laser-projector
for a single
large,
He punched up
on Pride and Punishment The
fell silent,
as the
middle of the room,
room without knowing
image of the heroic
at the foot of the bed. If
that
Simon owned an
ex-
pensive holo set you'd have thought that Captain Alphonso was actually there.
He
was three-dimensional
in that
you could walk around him,
him from beneath, always without interfering with the focus or proportionate volume of his body. If you approached Captain
look up
at
Alphonso from behind, you saw a holo reproduction of you walked around
formed
his back;
when
were perfectly
into his chest without a seam.
Simon his
to his front you'd see that his sides
fidgeted impatiently as
Alphonso waited,
dashing black toga with the
shoulder, arms outspread as
if
silver Liberator's
stoically
immobile
arrow on the
in
right
holding up the ghostly words which
floated under his forthright jaw:
PRIDE AND PUNISHMENT A REALER-THAN-LIFE PRODUCTION STARRING ESTEBAN MANTABLU AS CAPTAIN ALPHONSO Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
The Almost Empty Rooms
PETULA ANKENY AS LIDIA PAUL CHELSEZ AS VORGAS COPYRIGHT ©2039 3-D LTD. Simon possessed a complete collection of the Alphonso series. He had inherited it because his late father, Paul Chelsez, had played the role of Vorgas, the Villainous Arch-Foe of Alphonso, in each of the
thirty-
nine episodes.
Simon and Alphonso were remarkably
And
alike in physique.
as the statuesque hero vanished, Lidia appeared, reclining
silken air-turbulence
smoggy cobwebs.
bed
was peacefully
Lidia
on a
an apartment hung with streamers
in
asleep.
like
Alphonso entered from
the balcony and stood beside her, gazing deep into the vacant eyes of his
slumbering beloved. In keeping with the glamor fad of that period she slept with her eyes tive
opened,
fluids sprayed
from
gleamed
in the bars of
She had
set the
their
tiny
rainbow
Dreamtone
membranes bathed
in artificial protec-
hoses attached to her head.
for
light
Her
Fanning Reds, guaranteed
to color her
dreams with scenes of passion. Her passionate dreams were about
made
concrete
reality
personification of
all
eyes
from the overhead DreamTone. to be
with the coming of Captain Horatio Alphonso,
that
is
gallant
and debonair. Bars of vermilion lumi-
nescence played over her delicate features, making her blankly-staring blue eyes red as small forges.
Simon,
who had
waited beyond the border of the holoscenario,
waded suddenly through
the projected image, without disturbing
it,
and
slipped into Alphonso.
He merged
with Alphonso's every action, striding the archetype's
strides, a fraction
blurring
its
of a second behind in the hob's choreography,
outline.
slightly
His limbs and head were one with Alphonso's,
smug
his
expressions.
moving in the same Simon had memorized the holo so completely his voyeur enactment developed into a self-hypnotized reflex. He knew all the words, mouthed stereotyped holo's
features
them with
perfect inflection
and precision
timing.
He could act it all out
without a single mistake. For the hundredth time.
He
even
made
love
when Alplonso
did.
Which Alphonso did
fre-
quently. While involved in the holoscenario Simon believed that he was
Captain Alphonso, Guerilla Hero of the sion
was complete enough that he could
his imagination.
Silver Liberators. fill
So he had orgasms when Alphonso
did frequently.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
The visual
illu-
in the rest of his senses with
Weird Stories
did.
Which Alphonso
365
366
The Almost Empty Rooms It
John Shirley Simon
hadn't been difficult for
Alphonso
series. It
was
to
memorize the tapes
for the
very primordial and basic, each Alphonso
all
holo lasting no more than twenty minutes. Alphonso would make love to Lidia, or begin to, Vorgas
would come
in to interrupt with his kidnap-
ping attempt on Lidia, and Alphonso would defeat Vorgas and spend the remainder of the holo
making love
to Lidia.
Simon/Alphonso stepped onto the sunken bed, dling Lidia like the Colossus of Rhodes.
Then he
standing, strad-
still
knelt gracefully beside
DreamTone with
her and she woke: stretching luxuriantly, removing the
a delicate sweep of her jewel-bangled hand, squeezing her eyes shut and
then opening them with a euphoric giggle. Purring, Lidia reached for
Alphonso/Simon.
Simon could feel Lidia's slim body in his arms. Almost. Enough. There was a real bed onto which the holo bed was projected, supporting Simon over his loving mirage. But he was forced to slip slightly out of synch with Alphonso in order to keep himself from incorporeal form of the naked Lidia as he
falling
mounted
her.
through the
The
outline
wavered, stained.
Alphonso threw
on
Lidia
.
.
.
his toga
and
briefs aside
and bestowed
moments. Vorgas
the scene, as he always did at those indelicate
looked very
much
like
Simon, though thinner,
was played by the man who had leased holo-projector shortly before his death.
shroud that contrasted sharply with
sunken lanky,
and
He
features.
corded arm
silvery.
at the
his
this
gun
naked but magnificent body
.
.
at
He was wrapped all
fours
.
and unfurled a
paralysis-gun, dart-shaped his
.
Alphonso was supposed
out his handy paralysis-ray reflector concealed in the .
in a white
Alphonso who shielded Lidia with
... at this point in the holoscenario
/
also
older because he
long black train of hair and dark,
end of which was a
the
much
apartment and bought the
toward the bed on
slithered
He pointed
within reach
his affections
After a few minutes of her spider embrace Vorgas crept into
to
whip
utility belt lying
.
hand of electric charges traveling I changed what he saw. I concentrated on the narcharges traveling his audio nerve. I changed what
concentrated on the narrow
Simons optic nerve. row band of electric be heard.
Instead of the usual reiteration of Vorgas's defeat, Alphonso screamed
and flung himself away from Simon, toppling, paralyzed. Simon stood up, uncertain, split from his vicarious self-image,
and watched
in
grow-
ing horror as Vorgas leapt onto Alphonso's bare breast
and plunged a
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
.
John Shirley
The Almost Empty Rooms
needle-dagger deep into his throat. Alphonso spurted blood, squealing like
a pig at slaughter.
Simon covered
He
his eyes
and whimpered.
staggered to the wall panel and flicked the holo
holoscenario faded
room ached with
the blotchy after-image of a bright
like
The The
off. light.
near-emptiness.
Simon's face was calm, almost empty. There should have been surprise or
fury.
was becoming worried. The eventual organism's neural predilection was cloudy. I levered, see-sawed, bounced from and was pumped into /
.
He opened
a door,
went down a
.
mother's bedroom, ap-
hall to his
proaching her soundlessly. She was lying under a sunlamp and listening to the radio
"Simon?"
on
earplugs.
his
mother
just
about to go to
Simon reached up and he intoned
"Hey, turn that
peered
down
at
him.
face,
why
hair, in
don't you
come back
later?
But while you're here shut off the will
deliberately
histrionically,
you?"
made
the
sunlamp
brighter.
"Cameras!"
you? She switched off the eye
off, son, will
Her
dear,
sleep.
my DreamTone,
sunlamp and turn on
"Lights!"
flicked the radio into silence.
her eyes wide open, sprayed by protective
had been. "Simon,
fluid as Lidia's
Mother was
He
said,
filters
and
sharp hooks around her puddly, watered-
had the exaggerated gloss of
synthetic implanting, plastic
sky-blue.
Simon's face was ingenuous, eyes-wide. "You've been playing the holo again, haven't you?" Mother accused. "I'd prefer you didn't, Simon. Re-
You know why. Doctor Hannaly warned you. It's best Paul." Her bland, middle-aged feamres creased meridians of
ally.
to forget blue-gray.
Self-consciously, she tried to relax her face; strong facial expressions
were said to promote wrinkles. mother,
Simon murmured, throwing
."
"Lidia
.
.
who
resembled Lidia only
his
arms around
his
plump
in the lack of facial expression.
He
her terrycloth robe.
dumping from His mother was profoundly shocked. She allowed her forehead to
kissed the breasts
wrinkle. "Stop
He
it!"
She slapped him.
stood up and his look of naivete became cunning. "So you are
Vorgas, with a
new
ploy!
Lidia for long, Vorgas!" his
You could
He
hardly think to disguise yourself as
bellowed, with a melodramatic flourish of
hand.
His mother
bit
her lower
lip
and
leapt clear of the bed, flinging herself
at the door.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
367
368
The Almost Empty Rooms
John Shirley
Simon caught her under the throat with his right arm and with his left hand tugged the cord of the sunlamp from its socket and wrapped it around her neck. His face tightened into a
snarl exactly
when
his
tightened the cord. His mother gurgled briefly, thrashed, then limp, a
up
cumbersome
He let her fall onto the bed. Then he stood
weight.
to wait for the credits for the next episode.
Blood from
his mother's parted lips
flowed enthusiastically and
tered the pillow with a red Rorschach inkblot.
sembled a small /
hands
became
girl
To Simon
spat-
the inkblot
re-
run over by a truck.
couldn't bear to watch
any
longer. Failure.
And now cathartic
tides
of the event-organism's cleansing organs swept me away. I allowed myself to be sucked into the undercurrent that led back to my body which
my
waited in cataleptic torpor on
A manganese
office
couch
.
.
.
blue light poured thickly through the
blurred the spare furnishings in
my office
window
slats
and
into the viridian gray of things
seen underwater. I
sat up, feeling
numb around
my
adjusted slowly to
the edges, and
physical husk.
I
my eyes
concentrated, raising
pressure, accelerating breathing, quelling dizziness.
arms was an
I
I
locked
was in,
up a bauble
fitting
agonized for a while.
I
I
I
would
first,
my
blood
moving
steam
my body like Simon into Alphonso's.
I
didn't eat for a try
III
of Secondary Syntax
had nightmares about the murder of Simon's few
days.
I
agonized and decided.
once more.
I'd listened to
tory identity code
traced
A
vir-
her solo performances
and memorized the recordings of her own compositions.
arriving in:
But
my resurrections.
tuoso musician, Phylla Bertran.
I
my
penny arcade game. For a vertiginous
had projected another mishap, concerning a young woman, a
So
I
thinking of myself as arms, legs, torso, head, and tolerating
Part
mother.
in a
myself into
the erection which plagued
I
At
indirect process, like manipulating the handle of a
shovel to pick instant
cleared some.
I
had her vibra-
down.
my way large
through the neural channels of the event-animal,
and vacuous room, empty except
thick strings of metallic black stretching
for the four taut,
from the center of the con-
cave ceiling to the coastered fixture firmly magnetized to the black plastic floor.
The
walls
were contoured
fied resonance of any string,
when
to
throw back a greatly ampli-
struck.
The
entire
Really, Really, Really, Really,
room was
the
Weird Stories
John Shirley
The Almost Empty Rooms
hollow body of a huge acoustic bass musician inside
was
Phylla lips.
viola, large
enough
to contain
its
itself.
red-haired, with preoccupied blue eyes
She wore a skintight leotard and
tights
clipped and minced, to the upright strings.
and
thin, impatient
and walked with footsteps
The door hushed
shut auto-
matically behind her. .
.
.
And I was
Except for me, she was alone.
membrane of the
serving via the optical
chance to
test the
corollary to
only there in
spirit,
ob-
event-organism. Waiting
my
my hypothesis one last time
.
.
.
She pressed the chrome stud on her bracelet releasing the wheels for the string-pickup carriage
mounted
remote-control device in her
from one part of the room
into the ceiling. Directing
to another.
and when Phylla brought the
ther end,
traveled to the larger
end of the room
The room narrowed
strings there, they
that constricted space to a higher pitch.
it
with a
she could coerce the strings
silver bracelet,
When
at the far-
were tuned by
the perpendicular strings
their tone
became more
bass.
Fingers strumming like running children, she played the encompassing
instrument and strings as
if
lightly
danced to and
fro,
one arm looping the mobile
they were her dancing partner. She played expertly, each
note as deep and pronounced as a church rapidity of artillery
fire.
bell
but with the thunderous
For a while she dashed through her bass viola
solo in the Bartok piece she performed with the
New
York
Philhar-
bow and own com-
monic. But she couldn't complete the composition without a
anyway she was happy positions.
rhythm
Her bobbing
in intimate
belly of the
... for
in improvisation, embellishing with her
huge
and short
breasts
tosses of her hair
marked
wavelength as she pirouetted and furled through the
bass.
me the music was filtered through the membrane of the event-
organism, emerging as a ghost of its actual tone. But its echoes, reverberations of a lonely woman, made the body temporarily abandoned
by
my
mind, waiting, dreaming
in
my
office,
shudder
I
waited and
watched for the high-water mark of those intimate wave-lengths Phylla
her was
was an
.
.
.
enthralled artist, internationally applauded. But a part of
numbed by supernumerary
desires placing the pinnacle of the
music, her personal essence just beyond her reach. Never quite satisfied,
though
critics vainly insisted that
her interpretations were letter-perfect,
she wanted the whole cup, every drop.
To
room customized into a musical instrument her own self-expression. For a month she'd always closer, not quite: not
this
bass-
designed to envelop her in practiced here, ever closer,
just yet.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
end she had the
Weird Stories
369
370
The Almost Empty Rooms
Now strings.
she was
John Shirley
scarlet, sweating; yet
Each finger dipped into the
her fingers nimbly flakked the
scale like a
surgeon seeking a special
nerve within an incision. After thirty-two minutes Phylla was nearly sated. But not quite. .
.
and I knew
.
of the room and
the limitations
hoped
to forestall
for the second
now,
on uninterrupted she would exceed
that if I let her go
would
test.
If I
it
inevitably
could
toss
would not be enough. And what I come about. The time approached
a mental probe into her impressions
altering, amplifying, enlarging her capacity for receptivity to her
own
compositions. Satisfaction, perhaps
She moaned. chased beyond
She
sat
strings
The
/
reached out
.
.
.
.
.
.
She made the cry of an exhausted deer
its limit.
down
on
heavily
hummed
the floor.
The
fading reverberations of the
mournfully, like a departing
jet.
four strings in their metal fixture rolled
silently,
with
finality,
to
the center of the room. Phylla .
.
.
/
was
left sighing.
sensed the mercury bursting from the cap of the thermometer
up
unsteadily,
was
positive. It
Phylla stood
and taking her steps
.
.
.
carefully, left the
room. .
.
The
.
test
might be possible to avert
Phylla returned with a stepladder
.
.
.
which she placed by the four
strings.
...WorldWarlll... She climbed to the stepladder and fixture
on
tied a silver-white
the ceiling. She fixed the other
around her neck. She pressed the
cord to the metal
end of the cord
bracelet's
in a
loop
remote control for Auto-
matic Response.
The
toward the narrow end of the room, yanking
strings' fixture rolled
Phylla off the stepladder. She sagged
from the slim cord, making not a
spasm, towed wherever the strings bounced, here and there in the echoing chamber.
As she swung, a pendulum, her dead
mottled with purple, she
bumped
into the strings,
face bloated
which gave out a
and dis-
cordant thrumming.
She was dragged about the room, gyrating the strings, played a .
.
.
/
melody
had been unable
to
my
doing. Only.
negated twice
.
.
noose, body striking
change the predicted event-organisms' meta-
bolic reaction: Suicide, as I
wasn't
in her
as void of predictable structure as death.
had projected
Only
.
the corollary
.
.
OK, nobody's
perfect. It
of my hypothesis had been
.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
The Almost Empty Rooms Part
So you I
see,
I
wasn't at
had done what
quences;
all
of Primary Syntax
II
unprepared
had redefined the word
I
when
had done the night
I
hours of the I
which had no human hand the
happen. The FBI I
in
I
its
knew
had seen the conse-
I
had drugged myself and
I
family could have the last six I
had done what
I
had done.
myself as a note in a symphony
composition.
TV said AIR RAID ALERT. convince anyone that Armageddon was going to
I'd laid off trying to
anyway.
my
of self-determination.
illusion
had seen the consequences.
And
before;
failure;
hypnotized myself to forget, so that
TV said AIR RAID ALERT.
the
laughed.
just
suppose
I
had some
It
wouldn't do them any good to know,
illusions
about the world going out in the
dignified splendor of fatalistic comprehension. Still,
for a while,
I
sought out fissures or weak spots in the skin of the
event-organism enclosing me, through which
and regard
my own
it
impartially.
A
lungs ripped their
I
might pass to stand apart
nonsense proposition. That would be as
way from my
rib
if
cage to stand outside and
survey me. I
gave up trying to escape.
at the calendar.
Jesus, for a
up on
that, too.
trifling
got drunk for a week.
experimented with heroin.
weekend.
wife asked why,
As a
I
I
I
I
I
stared, soddenly,
discarded that and went to
faith-healing failed to revive
all
the calendars from
my
my
house.
legs
I
gave
When my
told her to shut up.
hobby,
Sometimes they come
Those take place
When
removed
I
I
studied the social habits of the event-organisms.
together in the equivalent of committee meetings.
as devastating earthquakes or
wars or gold rushes.
amongst themselves. Those take the form (from our narrow viewpoint) of interchanges like the Olympics or the United Nations General Assembly or midnight on New Year's eve in
Sometimes they have
fights
Times Square. every 500 millennia or so, events have festivals. World's Fairs. They get together to have fun and enjoy themselves,
Once
and from our viewpoint this takes the persona of Wodd War III. Their system, for Feblatest Wodd's Fair was scheduled, in terms of our time ruary 10, 2048.
Fancy
that,
I
said,
when
the firestorm's prologue of hurricane winds
swept our children half a mile into the
on about what glory he would
sky.
find as a
My boy, Charles, had babbled
jet pilot. I
Doctor of Metaphysicis. Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
wanted him
to
be a
371
372
The Almost Empty Rooms
A
John Shirley
throat of spasming energy.
neatly,
with
sterile,
plastic toy bricks
The
nuclear
fire
took our
rubber-gloved fingers. Like a child carefully removing
from
his play-casde
now that the game was
the leaves of the trees were stacked as neatly as dollar sury.
Everything in
landscape.
phone,
The
cities
apart
city
its
place. Japanese floral
done. All of
bills in
the Trea-
arrangement with the entire
explosions were metallic notes and the nation was a xylo-
ringing euphoniously
Fireworks heralding the
where
steel missiles
commencement
of the
impacted.
festivities.
Part FV of Secondary Syntax
All right then,
perhaps
my attempts
Simon had caused them. But
it
to intercept the deaths of Phylla
couldn't be
my
fault.
There are no
and acci-
dents.
Something nagged trying to decide
Whether or Something
at
what
me.
It
was three days
around
the muffled sounds
it
back of
in the
bumping
unidentified things
if I
February tenth.
I
was
not. rattled
rolling loose in the trunk of a car,
der
till
to do.
as
I
and
as
I
my mind
turn corners,
makes. Slowly
I
like
some
object
drive along, listening to the try to
I
decipher
it
from
got the picture and began to won-
was a dupe.
Because there
is
simply no such thing as an accident.
And
it's
a
damn
shame. I
sat in the study, stoking the fire
hotter though
it
a plush chair
was already hot
chair.
I
from the
central heating.
I
sat in
me.
got in bed next to
My wife,
the permaplast hearth, hotter and
and sweated and went without dinner but the answer
didn't sweat itself out of Finally
on
in there
my wife.
Elaine, tried to
I
hug me.
lay in I
bed looking
shrugged her
at
my wheel-
off.
"What's wrong?" I
decided to be honest with her for once.
intuition
Maybe
would make an appearance. For once.
the legendary wifely
"It's
the event-organism
thing—"
She made a small sound of weariness. "Oh, cut
it
out, will you?"
She put her head under the
pillow. "I'm sick
Not muffled enough. "You made an ass of yourself when those FBI agents came to our house. You were always big-mouthed with rhetoric. Like the first time I met you of hearing that crap,"
came her muffled
in that ludicrous transfinite
geometry
voice.
class.
I
was impressed then. But
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
The Almost Empty Rooms
what about your
children? Are you going to explain your theories them? Can you philosophically explain why you ignore them?" "I
don't ignore them.
I
bought them those
to
plastic kites yesterday,
didn't I?"
"Big deal.
Do
you know what your son does,
of Bernie Backsterr the American
goddamn
thing about that
moron
like that I
He
collects tapes
every
He
takes
Backsterr and imitates him.
notes about what Bernie Backsterr's rearranges his
lately?
Dreamer and he memorizes
room
looks
on
like
the holo set and
own damn room to look exactly the same way. He dresses
moron, wears
couldn't repress a shudder.
began to wonder
.
.
It
connected too closely with Simon.
I
Charles contained hidden antipathy for his mother.
if
Andrea, though only her to play viola
same way—"
his hair the
six,
akeady wanted to be a musician. Elaine wanted
.
makeup was smeared on the mauve pillow. She always put on her makeup just before she went to bed. Eye shadow, lipstick, glitter. She'd wash it off directly on getting up the next morning. It was an idioElaine's
syncrasy like her aversion for Chinese people. She wouldn't go near Chi-
watch
nese restaurants; she wouldn't allow a Chinese
in the house, or
them on TV.
woman, a promakeup on for me. But
It
was a
fessor of English. I
I
used to think that she put the
suppose she wore
it
sionately in her sleep. lables I
I
peculiar prejudice for an educated
which sounded
for
whoever
When
to
was who made her moan so
tried to sleep.
choke down an omelet for
breakfast.
I
nants of breakfast lisdessly about the plate with
My
pas-
mumbled monosyl-
distinctly Chinese.
mrned my back on her and
had
it
talking in her sleep she
herded the greasy rem-
my fork.
daughter, Andrea, sat or rather teetered madly, across from me.
Charles had gone to school. Andrea was
soming. She was one of those children
six,
who
healthy, blonde,
and
blos-
explode outward, looking at
as many things simultaneously as practical. She fashioned her unfinished breakfast into tiny casdes with her knife. If she didn't like something she
always found a child like I
some kind of use
this,
I
for
it.
Nothing was wasted, with
thought, should not be wasted
looked at the giddy stammer-play of her
on
lips as
her.
And
radiation poisoning.
she sang a TV-jingle;
I
that ran through my calculations again: eighty-nine percent probability my involvement in the metabolic gestation cycle would cause the war.
That
left
eleven percent.
I'm not sure
if
the
man
I
influenced was the Secretary of Defense.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
I
373
374
The Almost Empty Rooms
John Shirley
knew, through the jack-o-lantern buttered the footprints of meteorites that this
light,
veined and notched with
was the man who was about
a decision about a certain debacle with the Chinese. the cusp, the ence.
one whose
He
was
problem made
interpretation of the
to
the
all
make
man
at
the differ-
He was the living turning point. He made a phone call from his desk
in his cozy, simulated red-velvet office to
the President.
The
was a
caller
someone who might have been
tight-faced
and an out-of-place black toupee. In
man with
little
his right
a gray mustache
hand he gripped the
leather
handle of a briefcase, unobtrusive except for the handcuffs chaining
They rattled out a code
his wrist.
few of
pret very
I
couldn't understand.
his thoughts: his
output was sparse.
I
thinking about his ulcer and about calling his mother.
phone and placed the
briefcase
was
I
it
to
able to intertell
he was
He hung
up the
could
on an empty desktop.
He unlocked the handcuffs with a murmur of satisfaction. He opened the briefcase. Inside was a sheaf of papers, figures on
the
owned by
the
build-up of nuclear arms bases in certain strategic regions
Chinese.
I
scanned, selected what
I
wanted
saw something out of the corner of
I
and Simon's mother. They were files
on
to change.
my
there, with
event-animal's eyes: Phylla
me, though
could see the
I
the opposite wall through their denseless forms.
They wavered
but remained, expressionless, but trying to say something. I
looked back
down .
.
.
the /
at the
column of
man who
little
figures
.
changed what he saw Part
.
.
.
.
III
couldn't see me, his eyes running
.
of Primary Syntax
The entire world was caught up in the nuclear devolution. The bombs only fell on select cities, but those were mere
torches
illuminating the field for the event-animals' construction crew. Fallout shelters
were
shelters
neady from the ground and unpacked them, laying everything
utterly
without value. Fingers of nuclear fission plucked
out primly on the picnic
not
levitated,
it
table.
was more
like
Each individual person was suspended— hanging from an
above the naked, flattened earth, where
invisible
we were spaced
hook—a
foot
out evenly from
one another. Half of
us,
my
half,
were stripped of our
symmetrically arranged.
Like
a
flesh, quite painlessly.
And
mother unwrapping her Christmas
present while conscientiously saving the wrapping for next year, our clothes, skin, muscles, tissues, cartilage,
and
vestigial
Really, Really, Really, Really,
organs such as
Weird Stories
John Shirley
The Almost Empty Rooms
amazement were side. Empty skins
cleanly
all lifted
away and stacked one by one
discarded wetsuits were folded
like
on one
pile;
to the
organs
placed neatly in transparent receptacles.
We
couldn't see exactly
erything
we saw was
who was
responsible.
On
the other hand, ev-
responsible.
Our bodies were gone, our minds
(stripped of initiative) remained microfilmed onto long white rods of pure ossified perception, rods which trembled with every wayward stimulus, like tuning forks for sight
and smell
The
as well as sound.
other people were
their bodies,
in
dead but
World War mid-jump.
paralyzed, always
would be-locked
no one was
into
killed
III.
All of us: frozen in
still
seeing, corpses with feeling. But
No
above the ground
like
shadows blotted the
leaping ballet dancers crucified
frozen, ash-coated earth.
Light from everywhere.
No We
sun.
No
houses.
No
horizon.
No
argument.
could not see farther than— ahhhh,
through the eye of the event tastefully
it
it
seemed
might have been
five
but then,
five miles,
thousand. Gray haze
presented the grounded verge of the vast transparent hemi-
sphere that was World
War
Ill's
interpretation of the sky. Inside our
hemisphere, pleasing arrangements of cones and cubes and pyramids
were constructed of the stripped houses and parks, of rough, prosaic
wooden
texture or rust-flaked metal offsetting mathematical spareness
of geometry. All the city's children floated,
pavane
in the sky
Those who
still
rods
like myself.
hum
sings:
We
I
above
us.
bobbing about one another
A cloud
in
an aloof
of babies.
possessed flesh began to revolve around the calcium vacillated faintly, like
an antenna
aerial.
An
ultrasonic
Fim Fun Fun Fun Fun Fun Fun.
rods formed an axis
fleshed; like
like
a circular picket fence circled by the
maypoles surrounded by dancing
A
virgins.
carrousel of
weighdess, stark humanity comprising the nuclear merry-go-round,
we
the nucleus, they wooden-horses electrons.
There was no sound for that detached time-space. And no wind. Everywhere was the colorless light. The light that never warms. Final Segment of Primary Syntax, in Present Tense
This place
is full
with motion, but nearly empty.
we'll revolve like this, or
if
measures
Really, Really, Really, Really,
I
don't
know how
in duration apply, or
Weird Stories
what the
long
event-
375
376
The Almost Empty Rooms
John Shirley
animals intend for us after that.
envision myself chasing an ice cream
I
am a small child. I am lured by the jangling bells of the ice cream truck. I've run six blocks to catch up with the cruising Moby Dick white Good Humor truck, but it outruns me and my lungs ache and my knees shake. I clasp a quarter so hard in my fist it hurts my pahn. I can almost truck.
I
cream and
taste the ice
my
bleached color of
my ears.
I
color mixes and
and the
hear the jangling and
memory. But whirls faster
I
and
texture melts into the sun-
chase
on
after the truck: within
and counterclockwise
faster
of paralyzed folk
sides
and
who
light
is
me,
in
and resonating bone
faster within the larger
stare straight ahead,
with their arms at their
above them. There are no shadows,
their children floating
now, for the
its
tropic steam of perspiration behind
externally the inner circle of rods
circle
I
its
hair
everywhere.
cannot follow the organic twine of events into the
future,
now. I'm
perceptually fixed in time, pinning the function of this organ of the
event onto the present ity I
ing
moment with my calcium
nail.
Time, the continu-
of motion, revolves happily around me, riding the carrousel. get the impression that
Time
is
the World's Fair of Events.
this,
an
entity.
Time
ing blue ribbons to the best exhibits.
I
is
am
He is
a high officiary attend-
judging
World War
gratified: Detroit
III,
attach-
a winner!
is
On one side I see, flashing by, an immense rectangular glassy construction resembling an oversized aquarium. In this container, dutifully recy-
again and again, are the events which led up to
cling, recurring
War
III. I
lives
of Phylla and Simon. Whizzing past,
can see myself over there.
murdering and each of them.
World War mother
III. I
watch
in the
as
I
I
can see I
my
catch a glimpse of Simon's
can see myself floating wraithlike over
make
the fatal decision to attempt to avert
me, deliberately muddling
wrong
set
World
interference with the
see the cerebral scan-projections of Phylla
distracting
adjusting the
man
Phylla's suicide. I
I
my judgment.
and Simon's I
see myself
of figures, inadvertently influencing the
cozy office to conclude that
it is
little
best to attack China before
they attack us. I
glimpse missiles ejaculating from the
to missiles of retribution
Phylla myself,
on
their
and Simon's mother made
USA which wave
a friendly hello
way from China. I try to perceive why me do it all, and I catch a glimpse of
my submerged personalities, laboring while I sleep, conjurmy magically endowed wheelchair-talisman the visions of Mom and Phylla, placed to confuse me at that crucial instant: I
one of
ing through
Simon's
deliberately distracted myself.
And
(without eyes) that the steps
I
I
chuckle (without a mouth) as
I
see
took to prevent the projected deaths of
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
The Almost Empty Rooms
John Shirley Simon's Old Lady and Phylla Dedicated vent the Third World
War were
as a
and the
Artist,
final effort to pre-
whole predetermined
to the signals of the event-animals of
which
am
I
a
reflex-reactions
the
cell;
same kind of
inexorable spasms which led to the destruction of the civilization call
Lemuria and the uncountable
societies the event-animals allowed hu-
it
had personally
built prior to that. If a
car accident (Fun
Fun Fun), why,
that
manity to think
man (as a child I
we now
man
killed in a
is
seems the sheerest chance; but that
loved to play with marbles) had, perhaps even genetically,
every intention of getting himself mutilated.
made me
a cripple.
Simon
Chelsez's
went
I
willfully into the car
The captain of the Hindenburg steered into that tower deliberately; Dewey wanted defeat at the hands of Truman (I enjoyed games of chance, especially as a means of escape; never chess, accident that
always dice) and
mother spent her
entire
life
preparing to
be strangled by her son. Unconsciously,
But why not? out to be a ful festival
And why the
it
in that
me
I
hell not?
of fun.
jolly affair, lots
of events, and
impulse possessed display
had every intention of
I
I
igniting
Now that
I
World War
mull
it
over,
can see the beginning of
III.
it's
turning
this delight-
cannot (Fun! Fun!) imagine what errant kill-joy
to try to put
it
off. It's
a dandy, lovely show.
They
huge aquarium over there-there-(or Time or one of the
other visiting dignitaries should they chance to stroll by. Fley! All kidding aside,
I
feel
and now: and I'm recording I
suspect I've hit
affair:
And
on my
shamelessly giddy!
It's all
happening here
it.
assignment,
my role as part of this gay,
carnival
I'm a recording device. also a broadly smiling
Streamers of radiation tickertape. I'm
fall
Master of Ceremonies.
golden from the sky
plumage on a parade
float.
like festival confetti
and
I'm performing, a clown in
the center of three rings.
From
here, there
is
(Fun Fun Fun) nothing wrong with World
War
III.
Nothing sad about Armageddon. present tense. Like Everything, symmetrically right now, performs in the straining every fitense, extremely is a burglar alarm ringing. The present of ripping it. point the bubble sky's sumptuous fabric abiost to the
ber of
Fine and good.
The
tension
is
Really, Really, Really, Really,
half the fun.
Weird Stories
377
Ten Things to be Grateful For
In this fickle world
.
.
.
and cloying world
In this coy
In this the best— can
it
.
.
.
be true?—of
all
possible worlds
.
.
.
One must butter one's bread on the sunny side of the street. One must keep a stiff lower grip. One must One must remember: there are things to be thankful for. We have so much to be grateful, to be thankful for. .
.
Here
.
are ten things to be thankful for.
I.
Be thankful that you minding your
own
are not strolling through a park
corporate head-hunter back, to
pee badly and
there's
park, a bushy park, fore,
and you
when you find
nowhere
to
ment under
home,
the
it's
a big
ferns,
way and they
teU
you
you step off
watching them
and see two
that you've just
because there's a homeless encamp-
embankment, and you complain of entrapment but
not applicable and
it's
the
that liberty in the park's bushes be-
the stream, and you finish and turn
their mattresses,
call
you have to pee, you have
embankment, through some
standing there blocking your their
that
sort of enjoy the occasional outdoors pee, so
bob with the impact of peed on
a pretty spring day,
go within a quarter mile, and
and you've taken
the path and pee off an
men
on
mind, and thinking about whether or not to
no good and you
try to feint to the left
it's
and dart to
the right but they are used to people trying to dodge past, they're not your average homeless joes, they're predacious street people, and one of
them
grabs you and so does his smell, the smell of a whole cattle-car of people in
one man, and you can see the
face as he bear-hugs you,
lice
squirm
in his
and you can look
beard an inch from your
into his eyes,
one of them
skyblue and the other the color of a spat phlegm; and the second guy
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ten Things to be Grateful For 379
who's lean and blue with tattoos from the waist up, he kicks you at the base of the spine again and again as you try to scream but the bear-hugger beard in your mouth and with a strangely high-pitched
stuffs his
he always does
says
your
own
feebleness,
workboot
kick, the
your mind
made you
that, as
is
ground of the
amazed not
telling
at his strength
but at
crack with another practiced
there's
of jagged radiating three-dimensional arrows
with weight, and the bearded one
more
ravine's lip
falls
on you
the ravine, and that feeling
as
cracking and crackling as you hit the hard
and your head
is
hanging over the edge of the
embankment, and the other guy grabs onto your neck and jumps
off into
a spin-painting with only the colors black
is like
and green, and the vertebrae come
and neck
giggle,
meaningful crack of your spine and the pain that in
like a picture
back and
struggle
and then the
of rusty iron, pain
fall
you
apart,
and he swings from your head
as the other guy, drooling with laughter, holds
brae pull farther apart and you remember
on and
when you were
the verte-
in kindergarten
you drew a picture of a bear jumping over a fence only no one could make out what ing, to
it
was you'd drawn, and now other tramps come
laughing, hoot-
swing on your head and neck and the vertebrae part completely
and when they get bored they kick your body like a bean bag amazed that you're still alive, but you're not alive for long. That could happen to you. Be grateful that isn't
happening to you.
It
could be.
It's
not.
Be
thankful.
2.
Be
grateful that you're not a child in Thailand
to a
Bangkok
you goodbye
child-brothel,
as
if
who's sold by
and you're amazed
you were going
to visit a relative, as
if
his parents
mother kissed
that your
you would see
her again, and you thought that they would take the money from the man and then tell you to run away with them but they didn't even look
back as you are led weeping, the weeping bone-dry, up the creaking wooden stairs in the narrow alley in back of the building, a squeezed and building that would fall over but for the buildings on either side, then they beat you the
first
time
just to
introduce you to beatings and to
of your subservience but really
magnimde hearted beating compared to the second time when you
initiate
you
into the
it's
a
half-
refused to
let
man
tall skinny the fat American fuck you in the ass while his friend, a he's being tenhimself convincing if as who coos at you in an undertone
der, shoves a stubby thick
member
in
your mouth and makes circular
though you stomached that, when you felt ran to hide under the penetration from behind, you wrenched free and strong, flipped and squat the bed and wouldn't come out till Kimaritchul,
motions with
his hips and,
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
380
Ten Things to
be Grateful
For
John Shirley
began—with a
the bed to one side and
strangely
tience in his eyes, like a horsetrainer, kicking expertly, so as
anomalous look of
you
pa-
in the soft parts, very
not to break anything but so as to introduce deep, deep
movement
bruises that hurt with your every
all
night long, each stab of
pain speaking with Kimaritchul's unspoken voice, as you
let
men
the two
do what they wanted with you, after the skinny one made noises as if he disapproved of what the guard had done to you, and then goes on to fuck you
till
you choke and
don't die, not
throw you
you
lose consciousness, but unfortunately
two years
till
later
when your kidney
ruptures and they
something to be grateful
in the canal. That's
for: that's
not
happening to you.
3.
Be
grateful that you're not recovering
tion, leaving
you one limb, your
left
from your
third diabetes amputa-
arm, while the nurses, especially
the one with the harelip and the dyed-blond with the long neck and
slumped shoulders,
human less
give
you
mentally
filing looks, they're
detrims that hasn't been picked up
yet, filing
and meaningless and simply a bothersome
filing
you
as
you under hope-
fulfillment of duty, that
duty dwindling, on no one's instructions, day by day, the sponge-baths
going from once a day to once every two days to once a week, the
mrning
for bedsores following precisely the
clinical planning, the kindly ies falling off to visits
it,
almost none, the eye contact vanishing
from the doctor
days, the
since
food which,
down
also after
all,
sponging without
twice a day
now and
once; the television
you
if
left
and then they say the
on
TV
the lack of available beds, hearing, their
skill at
to
if
you
start
if
whining about anything
broken when if
entirely, the
they'd bring
it's
not,
comes only
it
gone off the
air for
and the
talk
good about
only one would open up, within your
indirectly conveying a sense of
some imagined
personal injury, their indifference to your tale of the night orderly
comes
in
and holds down your remaining arm and
look of slack-mouthed concentration, four or footsteps
five
the doctor she's forgot your insulin, the
you smell the decay growing
to
be thankful
for: that isn't
in
coma
who
you with a
slaps
times before hearing
and hurrying away, the nurse outraged when you
as
by
bed: the food coming only
a channel that has
oh
if
inquir-
can't reach every part of your-
falling off the
is
as
once a week, then once every ten
you can feed to yourself
you have one limb, even
self for a
same declension,
remarks and encouragements and
try to tell
creeping up on you
your remaining limb
.
.
.
just
Something
happening to you.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ten Things to be Grateful For
4.
Thank your
large parasite
growing
in
on a tapeworm, but
thing with jawparts like
of grasping, and
some
to grab lately
you it,
are not completely convinced, ut-
convinced, granite-pillar and steel-brace convinced, that there
terly
ant
you
particular deities that
it's
your
stubbier
and thicker and
pushed
its
can't urinate,
it's
to you, to persuade
and somehow this pleases
it
can take words from your mind
you not
to whisper there are
survival adaptations,
to fight
many
people, as everyone knows, flora the doctors isms,
and there
and the fellows for
if
you
if
you're quite
I'll
still
me
just
as.
and
let
trusting,
you're contemptuous of
its
freely
I'll
all
eat
dead skin
electrolytes
from
love you,
I'll
push
genitals,
in
and
but only
you must surrender completely, and you It
whispers such things to you, but
sluggish efforts at persuasion,
the lower orders and cannot persuade like a
and
one of its
them, micro-organ-
and they
reach out of your ass to caress your
and
that's
another step, another kind of benign para-
me move
must not scream when you see me.
as well as
it,
parasites within
your intestines help released trapped
in
relax
out of you, and
call
are mites living in your eyebrows,
food and think of site,
sometimes your spleen,
liver,
are swelling
at times, as
it
a wormish
rubbery, capable
to squeezing your bladder shut because
and your ankles
them back
a
grip through the tissues of your intestines
moved on
and you can even hear
is
a mutated vari-
is
intelligent,
human fingers only translucent,
inner organ, sometimes your
you suspect
to give
intestines, a parasite that
some commercials anyway,
it is
TV commercial
perhaps, and
it
a thing of
can, or not
cannot be trusted,
as the doctors are in denial, out of sheer ineffable horror, refusing to
acknowledge the presence of the
open with what fight
your
own arm which
the layer of
thing,
you must, of course, cut yourself
over-the-counter topical anesthetic you can manage, and
membrane
tries
not to cut any further as you penetrate to
over the intestines, but which you, in the
unshakeable determination of your absolute
will,
overcome, triumphing
the bathtub naked and trying to staunch the blood with towwith your free hand, you cut with shaking fingers a long jagged rent in
as, lying in
els
the large intestine, for a
and find the
full
fourteen inches, and lay the intestine open,
parasite within ...
is
bleed to death you think you hear ful that isn't
you.
Be
it
gone,
is
somehow
gone, and as you
whispering from the drain. Be grate-
thankful.
the terrorist thankful, too, that you're not trapped in the rubble after stone, ragged of clinker bomb has reduced the building to a shuddering
Be
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
381
382
Ten Things to
be Grateful
For
John Shirley
two days now, and the sounds of rescuers are very, very, very distant, eloquendy distant, and you're in a chamber that was not made for habitation,
under many tons of rock, with your arms and
ken!—in odd Jerry-Lewis postures,
like
angled— unbro-
legs
a dancing Keith Haring drawing,
only you're losing sensation in your legs because circulation
is
cut off by
a stone that presses just hard enough, but your arms are aching with sen-
when you move,
sation, and,
lower,
the rocks above nudge a
and small scavenging beedes begin
rattling legs
and you
on
can't feel
you can hear
to appear,
them brush them begin on your legs,
the stones, feel
closer, a
little
little
their
past your mouth, your ears, there's
no
but there's a sense of something flowing out of you
circulation there,
down
there, a cold-
ness that seeps up from your calves to your knees, to your thighs, as you
hear the child suddenly wake up and begin screaming for
you open your mouth
to try to speak
chitinous climbs into your
its
mother, and
words of comfort but something
mouth and chokes you and ... Be
grateful,
thankful, that isn't you.
6.
Be thankful
for
what you have; be
and you might be
a bag with holes punched in pursuit, feeling the
one of them after us,
we're
say,
it,
van lurch
You might be
listening to the
left
and
a child of ten
two men
free ... as
and make you claw
talk
about police
to see the license
ain't
nobody coming
number, no
pursuit, Joe,
you hear that the implications come
at the
bag and
room,
right as they turn corners, hearing
with the joy of a lottery winner,
was nobody there
home
grateful:
that child in a leather bag, tied shut, hardly any
try to
alive in
you
scream through the tape over
your mouth and one of them slams you through the leather with that
two by four you saw
just
before they pushed you in and
it
knocks
all
the
breath out of you and as you're getting breath back, each breath stabbing
now, he
says
something about you better hold
still
in there,
glad you're in that bag there and not out here with
me
you better be
you
little
peter-
him no more'n you have to I don't want to have to gag him after we take him out, I want his mouth free after I take that tape off. But they're taking some kind of drug, you can't tell what, you hear them say crystal, and after they make those snorting sounds you can tell from their voices they're losing what control of themselves they have and you feel an icicle become part of your back pusher, and the other
and
realize
sticking
it
it's
that
one
sharpened screwdriver the red-headed
through the bag
just a half inch in
says don't scare
here,
at
random here and here and
and an inch there and
it
man
had, he's
there, into you,
scrapes off your
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ten Things to be Grateful For
shoulderblade and he's laughing and his friend says wait, wait
till
we
get
woods, and when they do, when they take you out of the bag their faces hurt more than the tools and soon you beg them please, please kill me, but you don't quite die before they shovel the dirt over to the
your eyes. But then you do. Be glad ful.
We
have
much
be thankful
to
not you, be
that's
grateful,
be thank-
for.
7 Be thankful
how
it
sinking as for
you're not running
feels, as
you run,
you run
as
fat
open
chases you across the
never relents, the pickup
man and
loudest of
all,
a
as
on
legs that are losing their bones; that's
the bones in your legs are melting, you're
into the street, because you've
two miles and you're
with a
if
woman
you
fall
been running
and you're not a kid anymore
desert,
this
way
as the truck
under a sun that never takes a breath,
just ten feet
behind, driving you ahead of
and three children
in the cacti,
naked
in
it,
in the cacti,
run on, and on, stumbling and running, your
it,
the children laughing
and get up and
feet ribbons of flesh,
your
heart almost louder than their voices and the gunning engine and they are calling
you Mexi-nigger, Mexi-nigger you'd
bones have dissolved completely the kids, even the hips and buttocks
and the there's
fear
till
girl,
one of the
nothing in
all
can't get up and Dad lets on you, they shoot you in the
feel
slugs hits
it
much
your
because of the exhaustion
pelvis
and
splinters
it
and then
the universe but those splinters chewing out of your
hip, nothing, anyway,
till
they lock the chains to your ankles and begin to
drag you behind the truck, talking about
going to be
up but your
now and you
practice with the .22
and you don't
better get
now son whoa look at
startin' a fad, here,
Mexi-nigger's guts look
like,
Consider: that's not you.
It
how I
that
could be you.
those
want you and
It's
ol'
boys in Texas
to see
his shit
not.
Be
what a
fat
too—
thankful.
Yes be thankful, you'd better be absolutely grateful that you're not in the bus when it goes off the bridge and fills with water and your little girl, eight years old, beside you,
somehow you've made
this
is
looking at you with amazement because
happen and
you'll
never have time to explain
like this that, despite pretending all her life that you could prevent things something time, from happening, in fact, my litde love, I was lying, all this
could happen anytime and only some perverse and unmappable grace prevents it from happening more, it's amazing when we're barreling along by the millions at sixty, seventy, eighty miles an hour on our steamlike this
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
383
384
Ten Things to
be Grateful
freeways that
ing, tarry
it
For
doesn't
John Shirley happen more,
it's
amazing that cancer
and plane-crashes and murder and war don't happen even more than they
my little
do, given that people are just mandrills with clothes on,
you should not be surprised, and I'm sorry this
passing through your head in a
didn't prepare
I
you
second as you see that look
split
face right before the bus hits the estuary, slams the both of
bus with bone cracking force, and since your
ceiling of the
shatters
you have only your
open window within reach
who
man, the one
said
right
arm
as water
sweet, so
for this; in
you off the
left
shoulder
to try to get her through the
fills
all
her
one
the bus, but there's a ferret-faced
he was a lawyer, who's pushing your daughter out
way so he can swim through, who's kicking you in the face to keep jerking him back from the vmidow to let her through, and both of you are fighting underwater and beyond him you glimpse more than a of the
you from dozen
pallid faces
with bubbles surging up from their mouths as they flap
arms and you claw at him
their
to try to get
get her through that window but she
ing at your eyes, your eyes in her terror,
own
is
clawing at you in desperation, claw-
child without
and then the darkness
has nothing reassuring, nothing restful in tiness
and
that isn't
.
.
knowing gouges out one of your
.
.
down on you both and
closes it
at
Count your blessings, because
.
you
him out of the way so you can
all,
but
that could
it
a shattering emp-
just
be you: be grateful
.
9-
Be
thank your ancestors, thank your
grateful,
strapped tinct,
down
stars, that
in the metal chair, that you're
you're not being
not seeing those two
dis-
sharp-edged expressions, either one or the other, on the faces of
the people watching through the glass, either studied indifference or a fascination that's less than pornographic but not so very
there are people to be
choked
murmuring
to
you
just as if
fact,
and only you have, all
that you're innocent,
someone
looks a that
after
tomorrow or the
you
really are innocent,
be believed that you raped and strangled two
you never saw or heard of after
it
the unblemished, untarnished certaint)^ that you
say they're innocent," but authentically innocent, it
stole
little like
till
you were arrested
your car and used
you; not only will
it
you are a murderer, but your
mother will
and
they care that you're about
don't actually care and they won't think about
"they
less,
to death with chemicals, but they don't, not really, they
next day, and the
only will
much
believe that
you are
it
and
that not
women whom
for supposedly
in the crime,
doing
history,
wife, your children, your father
even though they
it,
someone who
be believed by the public, by
guilty,
not
and
made cardboard
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
John Shirley
Ten Things to
be Grateful
protestations to the contrary, ultimately they will believe
children will blame you for abandoning them, and truly sorry, except will
maybe
be sorry that you are
clicking shut, the last time
the children,
now you
who
and so the
it,
no one
For
be
will ever
no one
will also hate you,
hearing the sound of the chamber door
will
hear a door shut, that you are hearing
the sound of the cyanide capsules hitting the bucket to release the poi-
son into the last
no one
air;
clean breath
left
will really,
not
really care that
and that the next one
is like
you have only one
an animal clawing into
your lungs as you shake and choke and shake and die knowing you are innocent and being killed for nothing. Be that could have
been you. And
grateful,
show some
gratitude:
not.
it's
10.
Be
thankful, breathe a sigh of relief
and nod your head
tude that you're not a neurotic fan of perverse dark
crime or dark fantasy, a reader, stimuli that
one of your few
is
this-all-there-is in
your
life,
in
humble
literature,
grati-
horror or
at least today, of the obsessively-etched
releases
from the smothering sense of
is-
on
that you're not that sort of person, reliant
occasional corrosive chemicals or puerile graphic images for relief from the inarticulate and undefined and never acknowledged knowledge that
you are being hunted, something tions
own
is
hunting you: a
irrelevance,
fear;
just
you sock
your
skull,
in
you
you mock
circle
of your percep-
meaninglessness, your soulless,
like a
monkey-mas-
bad videogame even
another quarter, as your brain turns slowly, slowly inside
scanning for an exit in an exidess world, as you lurch onto the
next half-satisfying stimulus ver; as
ovm
your trappedness in a dead-end,
turbatory, mazelike civilization that as
out of the
a fear of your
realize that
like
the dying cocaine rat that pushes the
your understanding of the unknovm sculpture
leis
really only of the chisel-scrapings at the foot of the sculpture, and you
never have seen the sculpture, and that you're culture that, despite your arch
really truly
trapped in a
commentary, your well-honed
irony,
media-fed sardonicism, has conditioned and programmed you
your
just as
thoroughly as any shopping channel fixated Tennessee housewife; that despite your creative conceits you're probably going to degrade yourself for the opportunity to die in an upscale old-people's
an
SRO
instead of in
probably of a painful and under-medicated cancer, after burned up in media dreams and gossip that has a life of its
hotel,
your youth
own and cars,
home
is
relationships that jar
and sputter and
circle blindly like
and the loneliness of the long distance consumer, a hollow
hollow society of equally hollow people-Be glad and grateful Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
bumper life
in a
that's
not
385
86
Ten Things TO .
.
.
that
Oh.
.
.
.
not
.
.
For
John Shirley
.
see.
I
Oh, I
not
it's
BE Grateful
I
.
.
.
wasn't thinking. Ah.
It is?
Well
.
.
.
I
.
.
.
Sorry.
Well anyway. There
are,
you know, other things
... to
Really, Really, Really, Really,
be thankful
for.
Weird Stories
The Sea Was Wet As Wet Could Be
Mary did not
expect to survive so long after the airplane began to break
up. But she did survive as she w^as pitched through the crack in the bulk-
head, as the fuselage
split in
the screaming
air
and people clung
to each
other in despair. She survived to
fall; first
serendipity of her flailing— to
spread-eagled, like a skydiver w^ith
fall
spinning, but
then—by some
no
parachute.
She
w^as falling
toward the
They hadn't been so very
sea.
high,
She could breathe. She was conscious.
had been only a mile from the
reducing elevation in preparation for landing, but they were
still
airport,
over the
Then the bang, the crack, the screaming of air and children. Somehow the bigness of what was happening overwhelmed fear. There
sea.
was nothing
How alive sible to
on
I
left
am,
but to drink in these I've
be so awake?
definition.
And
never been
last
few seconds alive—thinking:
this alive, this
awake!
Was
it
she thought she might survive
if
she went into a diving
posture and aimed her fingers, with the hands together as
dovm
at the water. If she cleaved the
together and aimed herself straight
Then it
last
in prayer,
down and
way She
thought:
I
put her hands
might—
thought before she struck, the word might.
she struck the water. There was a flash of sensation so powerful
could not be identified as pain. There was a white
shooting
words
if
water sharply enough, she thought,
she might survive. She tried to angle herself that
That was her
always pos-
Now she saw the sea rushing up at her, waves taking
down
that
it
light.
Then she was
dovm and out, thinking without had somehow cleaved it so fine that
through the water,
had worked,
that she
she had survived, even though she'd always heard that from that high up
water would be as hard as concrete It
was
true that her
when you
body was behind
her,
hit
it.
was spread out over the top
of the waves, liquid to liquid, parts already nourishing ambitious seagulls,
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
388
The Sea Was Wet As Wet Could Be
John Shirley
but she had kept going—like the time her brother had dived from a pretty high diving board and he'd been wearing Dad's
swimming
him; and he was naked in the pool, and everyone laughed. only
that,
But
was
on
vast
its
it
was her body
no—she and
that
had been pulled
weU
fish
as bigger things
on her body, and
within
moving
that
it
it
It
little
right off
was
like
it?
quite clearly.
supported
It
birds,
she could feel each
She
and she knew
felt oil
that she
was pronounced over and over again with
waves and currents, a long name with an it
it;
it
in her depths.
ships cleaving her back,
had a new name, a name
and the speaking of
wasn't
feel
lapped on the shore nearby;
and a million million as
off,
her body now. She could
feel
shifting. It
surface,
and every one slicks
could
a
suit,
too big for him, and the dive, the slap of the water, had pulled
was never
infinite
number of
syllables,
finished.
Really, Really, Really, Really,
Weird Stories
OO OO
Really, Really, Really, Really,
CX3
Weird Stories
About the Author AND THE Stories
John
been weird for
Shirley has
as long as
he can remember and, for that
matter, as long as anyone else can remember.
whether fourteen will
boon or bane to novdsSilicon Embrace (Mark V. this
has been a
be reprinted
(Mark V.
Ziesing),
some debate
is
Ziesing)
is
the
over
He's written
most recent; two
(Alexander) and Wetbones
this year. Eclipse
been four previous
Tliere have Butterflies
There
his literary career.
(Leisure).
collections as well, including last year's Black
which was selected
as
one of the "Best Books
of 1998" by Publishers Weekly and included the International Horror Guild
Award-winning short
story,
As
far as
proving
and
screen-
how weird
just
now makes most
"Cram." Shirley
from writing not-always-weird
of his
living
teleplays.
he is—the
stories included in this col-
The earliest story collected maybe second) published story
lection alone are proof enough, of course.
here
is
early
indeed—Shirley's
first
(or
("The
Word 'Random'
cent
as recent as possible—a story written
is
in to the publisher ("Brittany?
material) involved,
each story had
it
Oh: She's In Translucent
first
work
and book
in triplicate
and who
carefully
who
have tidy
interesting
John
he's led this
periodically (until he
found the
ago), etc. Just to find copies of
keep data concerning pub-
Shirley
weird
life,
is,
well, weird.
moved
a
lot,
right one, Michelina,
some of
He
didn't
had them
in his
changed wives
the stories collected here,
files.
One
story
al-
about eight years
to turn to Shirley publisher/archivist/friend-for-years Steve
are thankful)
of
files full
along with duplicate copies of every magazine
they've appeared in,
ways keep track— plus
who (we
re-
this
October
Blue,"
been published (or not) would be both
informative. But, unlike other authors
lished
turned
I
was thought information about when and where
filed-by-date manuscripts
had
two days before
With such a timespan (and wealth of never-before-published
28, 1998).
and
most
Deliberately Repeated," 1973)— and the
we
Brovm,
came from
a
yel-
F&SF provided by devoted
lowing
fan Shikliar Dixit.
Many, of course,
w^ere in manuscript (or the digital equivalent) only, including
had
told
me on two
form of
ten the highest But,
we
one
Shirley
different occasions to destroy. (Disobedience
did the best
is
of-
loyalty.)
we
could here in our
own weird
way.
—Paula Guran
Really Weird Stories '"I Want to Get Married,' Graffiti, ed. Jessica
"Will
The
"Tapes first
Chill":
Universe
%
22 and
23":
12, 14, 15,
& James Van Hise, Warner, 1992
ed. T. Carr, Doubleday, 1979
Gothic.Net (www.gothic.net),
is
published here for the
"Kindred
Door Twenty-three": Martin H. Greenberg, DAW, 1992
Spirits"
is
published here for the
time
first
Five, Building Seven,
ness, ed.
Dracula: Prince of Dark-
first
time
"The Word 'Random' Deliberately Repeated": Clarion Scott Wilson,
"Voices"
published here for the
is
appeared
in
.
And
revised
first
ed.
Robin
time
from a story written
some Penthouse
Really, Really, .
III,
NAL, 1973
"The Last Ride":
".
July, 1998;
time in print here
"Don't Be Afraid" "Lot
Says the World's Smallest Man": Midnight
Horsting
in
November 1989
that
publication in 1990.
Weird Stories
the Angel with Television Eyes": Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction
Magazine,
May
1983
"The Sweet Caress of Mother Nature"
is
published here for the
first
time "In the Cornelius Arms":
Pawn Of Chaos:
Tales of the Eternal
Edward E. Kramer, White Wolf, 1996 "Quill Tripstickler Out the Window": The Magazine of Fantasy ence Fiction, November 1981
Cham-
pion, ed.
"I
Live In Elizabeth": Fieatseeker,
"Morons
at the
Speed of Light"
Scream
is
&
Sci-
Press, 1989
published here for the
first
time
"Silent Crickets": Fantastic, April 1975
The Magazine of Fantasy
"Screens": "Brittany?
"Ticket
Oh:
& Science Fiaion, April 1989
She's In Translucent Blue"
is
published here for the
To Heaven": The Magazine of Fantasy
ber 1987
&
first
time
Science Fiaion, Decem-
Really, Really, Really,
Dead End:
"Ash":
Weird Stories
City Limits, ed. Paul
F.
Olson
& David B.
Silva, St.
Martin's, 1991
"Triggering":
OMNI, January 1982
"Skeeter Junkie":
"When
New Noir,
Enter Came": Yellow
"What Joy! What
Black Ice Books, 1993 Silk,
Fulfillment!"
is
1990
published here for the
first
time
"199619971998": Three-Fisted Tales of "Bob", ed. Reverend Ivan Stang, Fireside,
1990
The Edge #4, 1997 "Preach, Part Two: The Apocalypse of The Rev. John "Preach":
Shirley":
is
pub-
lished here for the first time
"Modern Transmutations of first
the Alchemist"
is
published here for the
time
Weird Stories "Just Like Suzie": Cemetery Dance, Summer 1991 "Cold Feet": One Dollar Magazine, February 1974
Really, Really, Really, Really,
"The
Peculiar
"Tahiti in
Happiness of Professor Cort":
Terms of Squares":
Fantastic,
New Pathways,
Fall
1988
October 1978
"Equilibrium": Heatseeker, Scream Press, 1989
"What Cindy Saw^": Interzone #5, 1983 "The Almost Empty Rooms": New Dimensions Silverberg, Harper & Rowe, 1977
7,
ed.,
Robert
"Ten Things To Be Thankful For": Gothic.Net (ww^w.gothic.net), No-
vember
1998;
first
time in print here
"The Sea Was Wet As Wet Could Be"
is
published here for the
first
time
oo oo oo
About the Type
Really, Really, Really, Really
Weird Stories
is
set in the typeface Savoy, a
vaguely weird digital adaptation of Sabon. Sabon w^as designed by Jan
Tschichold in 1964 and was,
in turn,
century designs of Claude Garamond. title
and chapter
titles
weird Chapbook, a
on
based on some of the sixteenth-
The logotype used
interior pages
digital face
is
for the
book
the somewhat-more-definitely
designed in 1996 by Feorag NicBhride
and based on the rough-hewn type of mid-seventeenth-century printed works. The logotype seen on the front cover was the work of the peglegsawingly weird Alan ing.
Book
M.
Clark,
who
design and typesetting
John Tynes, wot wot.
is
incorporated
it
into his cover paint-
by the merely colorfully eccentric
.
p
SCIENCE
ABOUT TEN YEARS AGO, William Gibson
Ficmm
(US) $16.95 wrote:
".
.
.
in
some weird way,
always,
I've
thought of Shirley's writing as music. think the vocabulary of
I
don't
i
best describes
iit-crit
the things John's fiction does best. Sometimes, reading Shirley, like there's
o'-soufld
can hear the guitars,
I
some monstrous subliminal
chewing at the edges of the text
his stories
are rock, in
well up from the
is,
that
.
.
some primal way. They
some dark sea
and adrenal frenzy, and that
wall-
you can't have special,
I
',r^< special ... But
mean ."
.
whatever
it's that,
makes them very
without having strange
of backbeat
.
not really,
oo And some
ofj
the strangest was yet to come, oo Here are
^
the weirdest of the weird, the strangest of the strange. John Shirley's Really, ally, Really,
Weird Stories
Redly, Re-
slip
out of the
constraints of whatever labels have to
them-science
erotica, cial,
fiction,
suspense-ond
been put
fantasy,
into his
horror,
own very spe-
indefinable, extroordinary literary uni
verse, ©o There's nothing
m con do
pare you. Nothing safe about
it.
to pre-
No seat
beltj
or crash helmets can protect you from the reality-shifting, thought-provoking, flat-out
en -"% .%
tertaining stories of John Shirley.
NIGHT SHADE BOOKS MOUNTAIN VIEW, CA ISBN l-flT23flT-D2-T
51695
9
781892'^389022 ^07l :f:\:r^
*
..,:^j»sm'