Backteria and Other Improbable Tales by Richard Matheson Page A

needn’t shout.”
    “
I am not shouting
!”
    “You
are
.”
    Harold flung back the bedclothes and lurched to his feet.
    “Where are you going?” asked Rachel.
    “
To get a drink of water! Do you mind
!”
    He stood twitching on the bathroom tiles and staring at his dazed reflection. This was
abominable
. That booklet was turning him into a ravening beast! What would poor Rachel
think?
    He’d read; that was it. There were those other booklets:
Sorghum Culture, The Poultry Grading Manual
and
The Romance Of Grapefruit Pits
. He’d replace tainted thought with wholesome information, that’s what he’d do.
    His hand trembled in the pocket of his topcoat as he reached down for the envelope.
    “You all right?” asked Rachel from the bed.
    “
Yes. I’m all right
.”
    He went downstairs to the livingroom and turned on his reading lamp. Now…
    He sat numbly in his armchair staring at the letter.
    Enclosed find three of the four booklets you ordered. We have on our list no booklet entitled Exciting Sex Practices In 1984 ½
.
    Harold blinked. But this was inexplicable. He’d already received the booklet. If the government hadn’t sent it, then who—?
    “Harold?”
    His head jerked up. Rachel was standing on the bottom step, looking at him.
    It came to him.
    “
Impossible
,” he said.
    Rachel lowered her green eyes. “I—guess you know,” she murmured.
    “
Impossible
,” said Harold.
    “Well,
you’re
impossible too!” Rachel flared. “You and those booklets of yours! We’re supposed to be
married
, Harold.
Married
!”
    He gaped at her. “But…
how?
” he asked.
    “Oh.” Rachel shrugged. “What’s the difference? I had a counterfeit bulletin printed and burned the real one when it was delivered that day. I had the booklet printed.”
    “But—”
    “I mailed it to your office,” she anticipated his question, “because I knew you wouldn’t have it sent here.”
    “Oh,” he said.
    He stared at her.
    “
Well?
” she defied.
    “Those
things
,” he said, hollowly. “Where—that is,
how—?
”
    “Oh, I made them up,” said Rachel pettishly.
    “
All of them?
”
    “I hate to disillusion you, Harold,” she said, turning away, “but I haven’t been living in a
closet
all my life.”
    “
Wait
.”
    She turned as he stood and took a hesitant step toward her. “It’s just,” he said, “—just that I always thought—”
    “What too many men think,” she finished for him. “That a wife isn’t a woman.”
    Harold lowered his head. “You’re right,” he admitted, “I-I—”
    When he looked up she was smiling at him, one hand outstretched for his.
    “It’s never,” she reminded, “too late.”
    “But how did you know I’d send for it,” he asked a little later.
    “I just assumed you would,” she said. “If you hadn’t I’d have
really
been worried.”
    “I didn’t really say ‘I
will
send for it’ that night, did I?”
    “Well,” she confessed. “Maybe I did - prod you a little.”
    “Double flip-flop indeed,” said Harold. Rachel giggled.
    “Only one thing I don’t understand,” he said. “Where did you get
1984 ½?
”
    When she told him he clapped himself on the forehead.
    “I
am
dense,” he said.
    Rachel laughed softly. “So you thought it meant the future?” she asked.
    “Yes.”
    “How does it feel?” she asked, “to be the first time traveler?”
    “I like it,” murmured Harold, reaching for her again.
    And there they were in 1984 ½—Victory Boulevard, Los Angeles, California.

Pride
    The flight from Honolulu arrived in Los Angeles at four-fifteen p.m. Bob stood up from his seat and took down their overnight bags from the bin, putting them on his seat. He smiled at Jeanne. “Nice flight,” he said.
    “We didn’t have to go first class,” she told him. “That was very extravagant of you.”
    “Are you kidding?” He chuckled. “On our honeymoon? Come on.”
    “I know but—”
    She stood up beside him while everyone waited for