began to tire of my performance. Exchanging a series of rapid glances and gestures, they resumed closing in on me. Their faces made it easy to decide what to do for an encore.
I fired my pistol.
The effect was dramatic. Three of the males fell to the ground as if I had poleaxed them, two others ran into the woods, and a sixth beshat himself and dove sideways with his arms over his head. Still in front of me, dazedly crouching, were Helen and the steadfast Alfie. In Helensburgh itself a pandemonium of shrieks and gibbering had broken out among the women and children, but this died away quickly as they hurried for shelter. With their menfolk routed, however, who would defend them? I was cutting a decidedly Genghis Khanish figure, but my assumption of this autocratic role gave me no pleasure. I had Page 41
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
probably blown my chance of achieving a workable detente with the Minids.
Extending one hand, I took a step or two toward Helen and Alfie. They backed away. The remaining habiline males rolled over, leapt up, and hightailed it for the huts, there to make a stand if I chose to pursue them. The fellow who had lost control of his bowels oared himself backward over the grass, scraping fecal matter from his derriere, while the warriors who had run into the forest returned to see what was happening. A brave people. My pistol shot had signaled a shift in the balance of power in almost the way the explosion of an atomic device over Hiroshima had signaled a similar alteration between the Allies and the Japanese. At least, however, I had fired a warning—I had plenty of bullets.
“I'm not going to do it again,” I assured Helen and Alfie. “That was to save my life.”
But they, too, withdrew to the huts, where, among a congregation of fuddled, uncertain faces, they stared at me as if I were Death Incarnate. When I made no move to press my advantage, two or three of the males began gesticulating with their clubs, hooting belligerently, and indulging in ridiculous swagger, their hackles lifted along their shoulders and their chests puffed out.
In the thicket to my right, however, a young Minid male was scrutinizing me with almost chilling calm. He had large, limpid eyes and a professorial dignity. He and Alfie seemed more dangerous foes than the vainglorious gasbags dancing about before the huts, and I decided to get out of Helensburgh to avoid having to shed anyone's blood.
“Goodbye,” I told them. “Look for me to make this up to you. All in all, I'm not such a bad dude.
Goodbye...”
Oh, all has changed, and rearranged, / From but a single day ago ...
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nine
Van Luna, Kansas
October 1964
Lying in bed one night, Anna and John-John long since tucked in and told “sweet dreams” in the other bedroom, Jeannette tried to explain her ambivalent feelings about her hometown to Hugo, who was smoking a cigarette and desultorily following a George Raft and Ida Lupino late movie on the portable TV that sat on the chest of drawers. His cigarette smoke curled eerily in the mirror behind the set.
Hugo stubbed the cigarette in a glass ashtray with a SAC emblem in the bottom. “I am now gettin’
serious, mujer . I am now ready to tell you what the trouble is.”
“Yes?”
“The trouble is that Van Luna is not real.”
“Not real?”
“I said that, yes. Not real. Instead, Van Luna is like a spotless laboratory chamber, very clean. Good Page 42
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
air, sweet water, pretty white mice for its population. Stick a little brown mouse in, and what's the big difference? The white mice stay pretty, and the brown mouse gets fed and sniffed at just like everybody else. It isn't real, Van Luna. It's just like a laboratory chamber with little food and water bins.”
Jeannette pulled herself away from Hugo, drew up her knees, and took the
I fired my pistol.
The effect was dramatic. Three of the males fell to the ground as if I had poleaxed them, two others ran into the woods, and a sixth beshat himself and dove sideways with his arms over his head. Still in front of me, dazedly crouching, were Helen and the steadfast Alfie. In Helensburgh itself a pandemonium of shrieks and gibbering had broken out among the women and children, but this died away quickly as they hurried for shelter. With their menfolk routed, however, who would defend them? I was cutting a decidedly Genghis Khanish figure, but my assumption of this autocratic role gave me no pleasure. I had Page 41
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
probably blown my chance of achieving a workable detente with the Minids.
Extending one hand, I took a step or two toward Helen and Alfie. They backed away. The remaining habiline males rolled over, leapt up, and hightailed it for the huts, there to make a stand if I chose to pursue them. The fellow who had lost control of his bowels oared himself backward over the grass, scraping fecal matter from his derriere, while the warriors who had run into the forest returned to see what was happening. A brave people. My pistol shot had signaled a shift in the balance of power in almost the way the explosion of an atomic device over Hiroshima had signaled a similar alteration between the Allies and the Japanese. At least, however, I had fired a warning—I had plenty of bullets.
“I'm not going to do it again,” I assured Helen and Alfie. “That was to save my life.”
But they, too, withdrew to the huts, where, among a congregation of fuddled, uncertain faces, they stared at me as if I were Death Incarnate. When I made no move to press my advantage, two or three of the males began gesticulating with their clubs, hooting belligerently, and indulging in ridiculous swagger, their hackles lifted along their shoulders and their chests puffed out.
In the thicket to my right, however, a young Minid male was scrutinizing me with almost chilling calm. He had large, limpid eyes and a professorial dignity. He and Alfie seemed more dangerous foes than the vainglorious gasbags dancing about before the huts, and I decided to get out of Helensburgh to avoid having to shed anyone's blood.
“Goodbye,” I told them. “Look for me to make this up to you. All in all, I'm not such a bad dude.
Goodbye...”
Oh, all has changed, and rearranged, / From but a single day ago ...
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nine
Van Luna, Kansas
October 1964
Lying in bed one night, Anna and John-John long since tucked in and told “sweet dreams” in the other bedroom, Jeannette tried to explain her ambivalent feelings about her hometown to Hugo, who was smoking a cigarette and desultorily following a George Raft and Ida Lupino late movie on the portable TV that sat on the chest of drawers. His cigarette smoke curled eerily in the mirror behind the set.
Hugo stubbed the cigarette in a glass ashtray with a SAC emblem in the bottom. “I am now gettin’
serious, mujer . I am now ready to tell you what the trouble is.”
“Yes?”
“The trouble is that Van Luna is not real.”
“Not real?”
“I said that, yes. Not real. Instead, Van Luna is like a spotless laboratory chamber, very clean. Good Page 42
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
air, sweet water, pretty white mice for its population. Stick a little brown mouse in, and what's the big difference? The white mice stay pretty, and the brown mouse gets fed and sniffed at just like everybody else. It isn't real, Van Luna. It's just like a laboratory chamber with little food and water bins.”
Jeannette pulled herself away from Hugo, drew up her knees, and took the
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