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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24397-h.zip b/24397-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..571a712 --- /dev/null +++ b/24397-h.zip diff --git a/24397-h/24397-h.htm b/24397-h/24397-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c5a4ad8 --- /dev/null +++ b/24397-h/24397-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2005 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hex, by Larry M. Harris. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Hex, by Laurence Mark Janifer (AKA Larry M. Harris) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hex + +Author: Laurence Mark Janifer (AKA Larry M. Harris) + +Release Date: January 22, 2008 [EBook #24397] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEX *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h1>HEX</h1> + +<h2>BY LARRY M. HARRIS</h2> + +<h3>Illustrated by Summers</h3> + +<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction May 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She was a young, enthusiastic worker for the Welfare Department. +She liked helping people ... only she really-but-good helped them!</i></p></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The office wasn't very bright or sunny, but that didn't matter. In the +first place, if Gloria really wanted sun, she could always get some by +tuning in on a mind outside, someone walking the streets of downtown New +York. And, in the second place, the weather wasn't important; what +mattered was how you felt inside. Gloria took off her beret and crammed +it into a drawer of her desk. She sat down, feeling perfectly ready for +work, her bright eyes sparkling and her whole twenty-one-year-old body +eager for the demands of the day.</p> + +<p>It was ten minutes to nine in the morning.</p> + +<p>On the desk was a mass of reports and folders. Gloria looked at them and +sighed; the cleaning woman, she thought, must have upset everything +again.</p> + +<p>But neatness was the keystone of good, efficient work in any field. +Gloria set to work rearranging everything in a proper order. The job +took her nearly twenty minutes and, by the time she was finished, the +office was full.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fredericksohn hadn't arrived yet, naturally. He always came in +around nine-thirty. But all of the case workers were ready for the day's +work. Gloria looked around the office at them, beaming. It was good to +be able to help people and to know that what you were doing was right.</p> + +<p>She remembered wondering how you could be sure you were right about +somebody else, if you couldn't read minds. But, then, there were rules +to go by, and all of the fine classes and textbooks that a social case +worker had to have. If you paid attention, and if you really wanted to +help people, Gloria supposed, it was all right. Certainly everything in +her own office seemed to run smoothly.</p> + +<p>Not that she would ever do anything about another worker, no matter +what. Gloria remembered what Mr. Greystone, a teacher of hers had said, +a year or so before: "Never interfere with the case load of another +worker. Your sole job is represented by your own case load."</p> + +<p>That was good advice, Gloria thought. And, anyhow, her assistance didn't +seem to be too badly needed, among the others. She had quite enough to +do in taking care of her own clients.</p> + +<p>And here she was, wasting time! She shook her head and breathed a little +sigh, and began on the first folder.</p> + +<p>Name: GIRONDE, JOSE R.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>Name: Wladek, Mrs. Marie Posner.</i> She was no fool. She knew about the +reports they had to make, and the sheets covered with all the details of +your very own private life; she had seen them on a desk when she had +come to keep her appointment. Mrs. Wladek was her name, and that was how +the report would look, with her name all reversed in order right on the +top. And underneath that there would be her address and her story, all +that she had told the case workers, set right down in black and white +for anybody at all to read.</p> + +<p>When you were poor, you had no privacy, and that was the truth. Mrs. +Wladek shook her head. A poor old woman, that was all that she was, and +privacy was a luxury not to be asked for. Who said the United States was +different from the old country?</p> + +<p><i>Cossacks</i>, she thought. In the old country, one still heard the old +stories, the streets paved with gold and the food waiting for such as +yourself; oh, the war had not changed that in the least. Now the Voice +of America was heard in the old country—she had a letter, smuggled out, +from her own second-cousin Marfa, telling her all about the Voice of +America—and that was only another trap. They wanted to make you leave +your own land and your own country, and come far away to America and to +the United States, so that you would have no friends and you would be +defenseless.</p> + +<p>Then you could not help yourself. Then you had to do what they asked +you, because there was no other way to eat. There were no friends to +feed you dinners or to allow you room in a good house. No. There was +only the case worker with her reports that took the last bit of privacy +away from an old woman, and left her with barely enough money to remain +alive.</p> + +<p>"Get a job," they said. "Tell your son to get a job. He is young and +strong and healthy."</p> + +<p>Certainly! But the United States is not a place in which to work. The +United States will give you money. This fact she had from her uncle +Bedrich, who had come to the new country years before, and who had +written many letters back to his family before his death in an accident.</p> + +<p>Should she, then, work? Should her own son, her own Rudi, be forced to +work out his time of youth? Surely a little privacy was a small enough +thing to surrender for freedom and ease?</p> + +<p>But that they should ask for you to surrender it ... <i>Cossacks!</i></p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek stood up carefully—her old bones creaked, and she could +feel them creaking. She looked around the tiny living room, covered with +dust. One should have the money to hire a maid. But the case workers had +never understood that. Young things, of course they knew nothing of the +troubles facing an old woman.</p> + +<p>An old woman needed a maid.</p> + +<p>She laughed briefly to herself at the idea, and realized at the same +time that she had been hiding her own thoughts from herself.</p> + +<p>Today was her appointment day, and the new one would be there, blond and +young and smiling at her with the innocent face. There was something +wrong with the new one; she could see that. In the old country there +were stories—</p> + +<p><i>Are you, Marie Wladek, afraid of a young woman? Does your age count for +nothing? Does your experience and knowledge count for nothing?</i></p> + +<p>And yet, she had to admit to herself that she was afraid, and that she +was afraid of giving a name to her fear. Only a fool could mock at the +stories told in the old country, and Mrs. Wladek knew of such a fool; he +had died with mockery on his lips, but all had known what had killed +him.</p> + +<p><i>Can you not battle a young woman, and win, Marie Wladek?</i></p> + +<p>And yet the young woman had something strange about her, and Mrs. Wladek +remembered the old stories, and thought of witchcraft.</p> + +<p>Who could fight witchcraft?</p> + +<p>Even when the witch was a young girl without experience, and with an +innocent face and blond hair—</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek looked at the mantel clock she had brought with her across +the ocean. It told perfect time; it was as good as everything from the +old country. Here in America they had no such clocks. Here everything +ran by electricity, and when you touched it there was a shock, which was +unnatural.</p> + +<p>The old clock told the time: nine-thirty. Appointment hour was +approaching. Mrs. Wladek did not want to leave the house. She did not +want to face this new case worker.</p> + +<p>But, all the same, one had to have money to live.</p> + +<p>That they should force an old woman to travel across the city and to +speak with a girl, by appointment, solely in order to get the money +which should have been hers by right!</p> + +<p>Cossacks! Monsters!</p> + +<p><i>Name:</i> GIRONDE, JOSE R.</p> + +<p><i>Address:</i> 1440 Hamilton Street</p> + +<p><i>Borough:</i> New York</p> + +<p><i>Phone:</i> None</p> + +<p><i>Complaint:</i> Client is over fifty, without work for eight months—last +worked in October—due to recurrent difficulty regarding back. Sole +support wife and wife's sister. One child (Ramon, 27), living on West +Coast. Preliminary inquiries fail to locate child.</p> + +<p><i>Remarks:</i> NPH. Examination needed. Is back injury chronic?</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of paper work needed, Gloria realized. At first +she hadn't liked the paper work at all, but she could see now how +necessary it was. After all, everybody wasn't like her; the other +workers, she knew, didn't have her particular talent, and they had to +write things down for fear they'd forget.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Gloria felt very sorry for the other case workers. But she +knew they were doing their very best, and they were, after all, helping +people. That was the only important thing: to help people, to make them +better members of society.</p> + +<p>Now, Jose Gironde's back injury was certainly chronic. Gloria tried to +remember the medical term for it: it was something to do with a +lordosis. She'd paid no attention to that, since she had been trying to +fix up the back instead.</p> + +<p>But now a doctor had to be called, and a thorough examination had to be +given, all so that the records would show what Gloria knew already. A +case worker couldn't fill out a medical report; you had to be a doctor +to do that.</p> + +<p>And it didn't matter, Gloria knew, if you had all the information at +your fingertips, and even knew more than the doctor. (Gloria could have +cured Jose Gironde's back easily; a doctor couldn't do that.) +Examination was the doctor's job.</p> + +<p>It was like being a member of a team, Gloria thought.</p> + +<p>That felt good.</p> + +<p>She got out the list of doctors which all the case workers used, and +followed it down with her finger. Dr. Willmarth was free, she knew, on +Thursday morning at eleven.</p> + +<p>Luckily, Jose Gironde was free at the same hour. She made a note to call +the doctor and make an appointment, and to clear the appointment with +Jose Gironde, and made a duplicate note on the report sheet.</p> + +<p>That would take care of that.</p> + +<p>The paper work, after all, wasn't so very hard. All she had to do now +was to make the actual calls, and then wait for the written result of +the examination. When that had come through, she would be able to +recommend Jose Gironde for permanent relief, as was obviously indicated +in his case.</p> + +<p>The back injury could not be corrected by medical science. And if Gloria +were to correct it—</p> + +<p>"Your job as a case worker is clearly defined," a teacher had said. +"Meddling in another's province, without the permission of your +supervisor, is always uncalled-for."</p> + +<p>In other words, Gloria thought, the <i>status quo</i> has to be kept. And +that, too, made sense when you thought about it.</p> + +<p>She looked up to see Harold Meedy smiling across the room at her. She +smiled back, very briefly, and went back to her own work.</p> + +<p>"Interpersonal relationships within the office framework," a +teacher—Mr. Greystone?—had said, "are fraught with danger, and should +be handled with the greatest care."</p> + +<p>If Harold Meedy wanted to get acquainted with her, that was his affair. +She didn't feel that she could conscientiously encourage him in the +slightest. Not only was he a fellow worker, which made the whole +situation more complicated than it would ordinarily have been, but he +was a small pudgy man with pimples and an earnest expression. He looked +as if he would be a bore, and a difficult person to get rid of.</p> + +<p>He was.</p> + +<p>Gloria just didn't think he was exactly her type.</p> + +<p>And if he went on trying, she thought regretfully, she would be forced +to do something about it. Of course, Meedy would never know the +difference, but even so, Gloria didn't like to do any unnecessary work. +Changing someone's mind was a delicate job, and a responsible one, not +to be undertaken for a small motive.</p> + +<p>Even if the person never knew his mind had been changed at all—</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek, in her apartment, shrugged on an old coat and compressed +her lips with weariness. Appointment time was near, and a person had to +be punctual.</p> + +<p>Even when a person was going to see a young girl who was strange and +frightening, and who might do—</p> + +<p><i>Well, don't be a foolish old woman</i>, Mrs. Wladek told herself. Rudi +would have told her that. But Rudi was out somewhere, with a girl or +with some of his friends, like a good American boy.</p> + +<p>Don't be a foolish old woman, Rudi would have said.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Wladek was frightened.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was nearly ten o'clock, Gloria noticed. She did not feel in the least +tired; she was still eager and ready for work. She decided she had time +for one more folder before the first of her appointments arrived.</p> + +<p>She reached out for it and saw Mr. Fredericksohn coming in the door. He +smiled at her, a tall, white-haired man with a square face, who radiated +enormous efficiency and a certain distant friendliness.</p> + +<p>She did not say hello, but merely nodded. Mr. Fredericksohn liked to +take the initiative himself, in all relationships.</p> + +<p>"How are we doing today?" he said, peering over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Fine," she said happily. "Just fine."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fredericksohn grunted. "I see Mrs. Wladek's on your schedule today."</p> + +<p>"That's right," she said.</p> + +<p>"Just do what you can," he said. "You've seen her before, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "Once. Last week."</p> + +<p>"She's a—problem," he said. Mr. Fredericksohn was always a little chary +of saying anything that might be construed as derogatory to a client, +even in the privacy of professional conversation.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure we'll be able to work things out," Gloria said.</p> + +<p>"Well," Mr. Fredericksohn said, and paused. Then he nodded. "You do what +you can," he said. His voice sounded doubtful.</p> + +<p>She beamed up at him. "I certainly will," she said with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fredericksohn nodded and muttered something, and went on by.</p> + +<p>Gloria smiled. Oh, she was going to show Mr. Fredericksohn, all right! +He just wasn't sure she could handle Mrs. Wladek—and the old woman +certainly did represent a problem. Her folder was full of notations by +case worker after case worker. But Gloria's smile broadened just a +trifle.</p> + +<p>My goodness, everything was going to be all right. She was sure Mr. +Fredericksohn would be happy with her work.</p> + +<p>Though the important thing wasn't her own success, but the people +themselves. If you could help them to be bright, and happy, and +successful, then that was the best job in the world.</p> + +<p>And she could.</p> + +<p>My goodness, yes.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek looked at the door for a long time without opening it. She +didn't want to go in—certainly not. But there was her appointment, and +money was needed; she had no choice. The cossacks of America had forced +her to this pass, and she was an old woman; what could she do? Fight +them?</p> + +<p>One had to give in.</p> + +<p>She reached for the doorknob and turned it and opened the door.</p> + +<p>There were all the desks, and the men and women working. And near the +far corner, on the left, the girl sat studying a sheet of paper. Mrs. +Wladek looked at the blond hair and the pretty face and the slight +figure, and shivered.</p> + +<p>But she had no choice; she went across the room and when she had almost +reached the desk the girl said: "Good morning, Mrs. Wladek."</p> + +<p>How had she known? Mrs. Wladek had made no sound in walking to the desk. +Yet the girl had known someone was there, and who that someone was, +before her head had been raised. Truly, the girl was frightening.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek eased herself, feeling her bones creak, into a chair at the +side of the desk. She said nothing.</p> + +<p>"How are things going?" the girl said in her pleasant smooth voice.</p> + +<p>"I am fine," Mrs. Wladek said deliberately. She did not inquire about +the girl's health. That would show her; that impoliteness would show her +what an old woman thought of her!</p> + +<p>"That's good," the girl said. "That's very good. And how is Rudi?"</p> + +<p>"Rudi is my son," Mrs. Wladek said.</p> + +<p>"I know that," the girl said, and smiled. "We met last week, don't you +remember?"</p> + +<p>"I remember you," Mrs. Wladek said. Then, grudgingly, she added: "Rudi +is the same. He is fine."</p> + +<p>"That's fine," the girl said. "And has he found a job yet?"</p> + +<p>Here it was necessary to lie, Mrs. Wladek knew. One could not say that +Rudi did not look for work. One had to say: "Work is difficult to find. +He tries, but there is no job."</p> + +<p>"And how about yourself?" the girl said.</p> + +<p>"I am an old woman," Mrs. Wladek said. "Who would hire an old woman?"</p> + +<p>The girl nodded. "It's been a long time since your husband died," she +said.</p> + +<p>"In an accident with an automobile," Mrs. Wladek said. "I remember that +time. It is sad to think of."</p> + +<p>"And Rudi hasn't found any work in all that time," the girl said.</p> + +<p>"He looks hard," Mrs. Wladek said earnestly. This was a game that had to +be played, she knew, a conversation that started and finished each time +she came for an appointment. "He looks but work is difficult to find," +she said.</p> + +<p>"I understand," the girl said. "But I'm sure you and Rudi will both find +work soon." She paused and her eyes closed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek felt something happen.</p> + +<p>It was ... she felt ... a stirring, a changing—</p> + +<p>She stood up suddenly and the chair clattered, balanced and rocked back +upright. "What are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"Doing?" the girl said.</p> + +<p>"I go to look for work," Mrs. Wladek said. "You make me want to look for +work!"</p> + +<p>"That's fine, Mrs. Wladek," the girl said. "That's just fine."</p> + +<p>"But I want to look for work!" Mrs. Wladek said, horrified. "What do you +do to me?"</p> + +<p>The girl only smiled.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek spun and ran for the door, her eyes wide; but she collided +with a desk and backed off, and then managed to find her way. The door +banged behind her.</p> + +<p>Gloria sat at her desk smiling, filled with satisfaction. Of course, a +reaction like Mrs. Wladek's was only to be expected, but when it was +over she would be looking for work.</p> + +<p>Gloria released the little doll she had held throughout the interview +and let it fall back, out of sight, into her desk drawer. The doll was +shaped into a vague female likeness.</p> + +<p>She didn't need it now.</p> + +<p>Her work was done.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek was going to look for work, and that would adjust her to the +world. She would be a functioning member of society now, and it would do +her a lot of good. Rudi, too—Gloria considered Rudi. There was another +doll in the drawer, a male, and after a few seconds she put her hand in +the drawer and fished around until she had found it.</p> + +<p>She turned it slowly, feeling for the son, until at last she had made +contact.</p> + +<p>There.</p> + +<p>He was talking with some friends; it would not be hard. She +concentrated, and at the same time she heard him talking:</p> + +<p>"So look, here's the way I see it. We got the Cobras on our necks, we +got to get rid of them, right?"</p> + +<p>Someone said: "Right, Rudi."</p> + +<p>"So if we start a little rumble, very quiet so the cops don't figure +what's going on, then we—"</p> + +<p>A silence.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.png" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Someone said: "What's wrong, Rudi?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Something. What am I doing just standing here?"</p> + +<p>And someone said: "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean I ought to be out getting a job, man. Earning some bread for the +old lady. Got to have money, got to have a job."</p> + +<p>Someone said: "Hey, Rudi. Wait. What's the hurry?"</p> + +<p>And Rudi had gone.</p> + +<p>Gloria dropped the doll and closed the drawer, and sat back, smiling +gently. It was wonderful to be able to help people.</p> + +<p>It was just wonderful.</p> + +<p><i>Find work. Find a job.</i></p> + +<p><i>Go to the employment agency.</i></p> + +<p><i>Start looking for work, right now.</i></p> + +<p><i>Get a job.</i></p> + +<p><i>It will be nice to have a steady job.</i></p> + +<p><i>Nice—</i></p> + +<p>Somehow, Mrs. Wladek fought off the voices in her mind. It was so easy +to succumb to them and to drift into the terrible things they wanted. +Mrs. Wladek did not want them at all.</p> + +<p>A job, indeed!</p> + +<p>But it took effort, all the same, to concentrate on herself instead of +the work, the job, the employment agency. It took effort to sit down on +a bench in the park, near the building where the case workers were, and +plan out the next step.</p> + +<p>A witch, certainly. The girl was a witch and she had put a hex on Mrs. +Wladek, and that hex had to be removed.</p> + +<p>How?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek thought first of the old woman in the store.</p> + +<p>Certainly a gypsy woman would be able to take off a hex. Mrs. Wladek +remembered gypsies from the old country, laughing people with the +strange gift, witches themselves but always available for a price—</p> + +<p>The gypsy woman.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek stood up and began to walk toward the park's exit. She +forced her legs to move, creaking, one step at a time, thinking to +herself: <i>The gypsy woman, the gypsy woman, the gypsy woman</i>—and trying +to ignore the voices in her head that went on and on:</p> + +<p><i>It would be good to find a job.</i></p> + +<p><i>Go right away to the employment agency.</i></p> + +<p><i>Right away—</i></p> + +<p>There were those who laughed—Marya Proderenska thought—and there would +always be those who laughed, but that did not injure her; for scoffers +she felt only a vast contempt. Had she not been shown in a dream that +the power was hers? Had not each of her husbands, even the third who had +contracted the fever and died with great suddenness in three weeks, +admitted to her that she had a power beyond that of any normal woman? It +was the power of vision and movement, the power of spell and +incantation.</p> + +<p>The others called it magic, though no gypsy would call it so.</p> + +<p>Marya Proderenska sat quietly in the back room of the little shop and +waited. A woman would come; she knew that, and the knowledge was another +piece of her power, and a proof of it. Farther she could not see, but in +the cloud of the future the woman was clear.</p> + +<p>(What power Marya Proderenska had, a blond social worker had, too, and +other people; she had never been able to clear her mind of her own +superstitions enough to train the power or work very effectively with +it. The power was sufficient for her.)</p> + +<p>Marya Proderenska sighed. The power demanded its own responsibilities. +She could not marry outside the clan into which she had been born. She +could not be seen on certain days of every month. During those days many +foods were forbidden her.</p> + +<p>Thus the power worked, and thus she lived.</p> + +<p>The woman would bring money for her, Marya knew. So she sat in the back +of the shop and waited, and sighed, until the front door sighed open and +Marie Wladek called: "Old woman, old woman!"</p> + +<p>"Do you call me?" Marya said in her proud baritone.</p> + +<p>"I call you, I call the gypsy woman."</p> + +<p>Marya stood up and smoothed her old dress over the big-boned frame all +of her husbands had admired. "Then come to me," she called.</p> + +<p>Marie Wladek crept into the room, her eyes saucers of awe. To speak of +witches was all very well, and a fresh-faced girl could give one fright; +but here was the authority and power of witchcraft, in this woman with +the fuzz of hair on her lip and the great trumpeting voice.</p> + +<p>"I come for help," Mrs. Wladek said.</p> + +<p>"I know why you have come," Marya Proderenska said. "You have a great +trouble."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek nodded. "I am bewitched. A witch has placed a hex upon me, +and I come to you to remove it."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence. Then Marya Proderenska said: "The powers +will not do work without payment."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek dug into her ancient beaded purse and found a crumpled +dollar bill. She handed it over and the gypsy woman smiled and ducked +her head.</p> + +<p>"It is enough," she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek said: "Then you will help me?"</p> + +<p>"I will help you," the gypsy woman said. "Tell me of this curse upon +you."</p> + +<p>"There is a voice in my mind," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice tells +me—even now it continues—to go to an employment agency, to accept +work ... and the voice is not of my making."</p> + +<p>"Whose voice is this?" the gypsy woman said.</p> + +<p>"It is my own voice," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice is my own, but I did +not tell it to speak. Inside my own head, I can hear my own voice as if +someone else put it there."</p> + +<p>"Ah," the gypsy woman said. "And who is the witch who has put this curse +upon you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek sighed. "At the office of the social workers, there is one, +a young woman. She has done this to me."</p> + +<p>Marya Proderenska nodded. Her eyes closed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek stared at the still figure without moving for a minute. Time +stretched endlessly. The room was very quiet; Mrs. Wladek heard the +continuing voice in her mind and felt fear.</p> + +<p>Another minute ticked by.</p> + +<p>At last the gypsy woman opened her eyes. "It is a strong curse," she +said in a distant voice. "But I have erased it for you. I have taken the +hex from you. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Taken the hex—" Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "Then why do I still hear +the voice?"</p> + +<p>"You still hear it?" The gypsy woman muttered under her breath. "Come +back tomorrow. We work again."</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow is a long time."</p> + +<p>The gypsy woman closed her eyes for a second. "All right," she said, and +snapped them open. "Four o'clock this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I will be here."</p> + +<p>"It is a strong curse."</p> + +<p>"You will help me," Mrs. Wladek said.</p> + +<p>"I will help you," Marya Proderenska said.</p> + +<p>But, after the old woman had left, Marya Proderenska sat alone and her +face was troubled. The strength of the curse—she had felt it +herself—was enormous. She did not know of any magician who had such +power.</p> + +<p>She listed over the members of her own clan in her mind, and became +satisfied that none she knew was responsible. And yet, the strength of +the curse argued real power; was it possible that a power existed within +the city, and she did not know of it? Marya felt a cold wind on her +back, the wind of fear.</p> + +<p>Such a power might do—anything.</p> + +<p>And yet it was being used to coerce one useless old woman into taking a +job!</p> + +<p>Marya Proderenska lay flat on the floor, her arms outstretched. Thus one +might gather the vital energies. Four o'clock was not many hours +distant, and by four o'clock she would need all of the energy she could +summon.</p> + +<p>She did not allow herself to become doubtful about the outcome.</p> + +<p>And yet she was afraid.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Gloria smiled understandingly at the woman who sat across the desk.</p> + +<p>"I understand, Mrs. Francis," she said.</p> + +<p>"It's not that Tom's a bad boy, you know," the woman said. "But +he's—easily led. That's the only thing."</p> + +<p>"Of course," Gloria said. She looked at the middle-aged woman, wearing a +gray suit that did not fit her overweight frame, and a silly little +white hat. "I'm sure everything's going to be all right," she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Francis gave a little gasp. "Oh, I hope so," she said. "Tom doesn't +mean to cause any trouble. He just doesn't understand—"</p> + +<p>Gloria went over the report sheets mentally. Tom didn't mean to cause +any trouble, but he had been involved in a gang war or two—nothing in +the way of Thompson sub-machine guns, of course, or mortars, just a few +pistols and zip-guns and rocks and broken bottles.</p> + +<p>Tom hadn't been killed yet. That was, Gloria thought sadly, only a +matter of time. He hadn't killed anybody yet, either—but he'd come +close. Tom had seen the inside of a jail or two a lot more recently than +he'd seen the inside of a classroom.</p> + +<p>Tom was easily led.</p> + +<p>Sure.</p> + +<p>Well, Gloria thought, the problem was to lead him into something more +productive and satisfying than the gangs of New York. And that didn't +seem to be too hard.</p> + +<p>Of course, she had very little practice as yet. The theoretical +knowledge she'd been able to dig up in college was mostly on the magic +and superstition shelves of the library—and, while she got full credit +in her minor, Anthropology, for the research she'd done, a great deal of +it just wasn't any practical help.</p> + +<p>Not if you <i>were</i> a witch—or what passed for one.</p> + +<p>"You see what I mean, don't you?" Mrs. Francis said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," Gloria said, and gave the woman her most reassuring +smile. "I'm sure something can be done. Do you know where your boy is +now?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Francis nodded, birdlike. "He's home now. I think he's sleeping. He +usually doesn't wake up until after noon."</p> + +<p>"I see." Gloria hesitated a moment. "Can you describe him for me?"</p> + +<p>"Describe him?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," Gloria said. "You see, the somatotypes have, we've +discovered, a great influence on mental and emotional makeup."</p> + +<p>She didn't feel right, lying to the woman—but chances were that what +she'd said didn't make any sense to Mrs. Francis and, in any case, +Gloria could hardly tell her the real reason she wanted a description.</p> + +<p>It would aid in making the doll she needed.</p> + +<p>"He's about six feet tall," Mrs. Francis said, "but he's very thin, and +sometimes I worry about that. I try to give him the best nourishment I +know how, but he—"</p> + +<p>"What color is his hair?" Gloria interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Mrs. Francis said. "Brown. And brown eyes. Really nice eyes; +they're his best feature; everybody says so."</p> + +<p>"Any distinguishing marks, or anything unusual about him?"</p> + +<p>"He has a scar now, on his left arm just below the elbow, but he got +that in a fight with these boys—"</p> + +<p>"All right," Gloria said. "Thank you very much."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" Mrs. Francis said. "You're not going to have +him arrested or anything, are you? Because he's not a bad boy, you know +that. He's only—"</p> + +<p>"Easily led," Gloria finished. "Of course. There won't be any need for +arrest, or for anything as drastic as that. You just go home now, and +don't worry. I'm sure everything's going to be all right."</p> + +<p>"I only want to help my boy," Mrs. Francis said.</p> + +<p>"Of course you do," Gloria said. "I want to help him, too."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Francis stood up and swallowed hard. "I appreciate that," she said.</p> + +<p>"It's my job, that's all," Gloria said, feeling unaccountably shy. As +the woman left she thought about that embarrassment and finally decided +that she felt she had no right to be complimented. She was doing a job; +it needed to be done; that was all.</p> + +<p>True, she had special talents for the job—but Mrs. Francis didn't know +that, and she hadn't made the talents anyhow, but been born with them.</p> + +<p>Congratulations?</p> + +<p>Don't be silly.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Gloria thought, she deserved a good talking-to. She +hadn't had enough experience, and that was the simple truth. It was all +very well to work on a boy like Rudi, or another one like Tom Francis, +when they didn't have any idea who you were or even that you were trying +to do something. That was easy.</p> + +<p>But a woman like Mrs. Wladek—</p> + +<p>She was suspicious from the start, and Gloria thought that perhaps she +shouldn't have done anything. But it was obvious that the woman needed +help to become a functioning member of society.</p> + +<p>The only trouble was that Gloria hadn't been quite expert enough. Oh, +given enough time, the command would work, and eventually become part of +the personality. But, because Mrs. Wladek had been afraid and a little +forewarned, she'd been able to fight off the command a little.</p> + +<p><i>Practice</i>, Gloria told herself, <i>makes perfect.</i> And it wasn't her +fault that she couldn't do any better. Next time, she'd have a little +more practice and she'd be able to do a clearer and more complete job.</p> + +<p>And, in the meantime, there was no real harm done. Mrs. Wladek would +come round, before long, and then everything would be all right.</p> + +<p>Why, after all, there was Rudi, too. And Rudi undoubtedly had a job by +now, or at least a good chance of one through an employment agency.</p> + +<p>There was no reason to be depressed.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Her son was waiting for her when she arrived at her home once more. Mrs. +Wladek looked at the boy with relief and some suspicion. It was not +natural for Rudi to be at home during such an hour; he was out with his +friends through the day, and this was good for a boy.</p> + +<p>"Ma," Rudi said, "guess what?"</p> + +<p>"You are in trouble," Mrs. Wladek said at once, in a heavy voice.</p> + +<p>"Trouble? I got no troubles, ma," Rudi said. He stood before her in the +dusty living room, self-assured and proud, and it came to Mrs. Wladek +all at once that her boy was a man.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she demanded. "Tell me at once."</p> + +<p>"Sure I will. Ma," Rudi said. "I got a job. I start tomorrow. In an +office, wrapping things. The mail room, they call it."</p> + +<p>Silence descended on the little room.</p> + +<p>"Ma," Rudi said at last. "Ma, what's wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Wrong?" Mrs. Wladek said. "What should be wrong? Nothing at all is +wrong. You have a job, very well, you have a job."</p> + +<p>"You're not happy about it, Ma?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek gave a short bark. "Happy? Indeed I should be happy? My son +goes to work, like a dog, and I should be—" She paused and gasped +suddenly. "Why did you go to work?"</p> + +<p>"You mean why did I get a job, Ma?" Rudi said. "Listen, let's have +supper and we'll talk about it, huh?"</p> + +<p>"Supper?" Mrs. Wladek snorted. "Supper we will have when I find out what +I need to know. Not before."</p> + +<p>"But I'm hungry, Ma, and ... oh, all right." Rudi sat down on the old +brown couch and sighed. "I just thought it would be a good idea to get a +job, bring some bread into the house, you know? So I went down to the +agency, and they had this application waiting, and I went down and got +the job, and I start tomorrow. That's all. Now let's eat."</p> + +<p>"You got the idea to have a job?" Mrs. Wladek said. "Fine. Fine. Just +fine. And when did you get this idea?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Rudi said, and shrugged. "Some time. This morning, +maybe. Look, what difference does it make? I thought you'd like the +idea, Ma. Some more dough coming in ... you know."</p> + +<p>"This morning." Mrs. Wladek raised clenched fists over her head. +"Cossacks!" she screamed. "Monsters! Witches!"</p> + +<p>Lunchtime.</p> + +<p>Gloria looked up and smiled sweetly and distantly as Harold Meedy +appeared at her desk. "Got any special place to go?" he said.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact—" she began, but he was too quick for her.</p> + +<p>"It's always 'as a matter of fact,'" he said. "What's the matter—you +got another boy friend or something? You don't like poor Harold? Look, +Gloria, if you want to avoid me, then you go ahead and avoid me. But—"</p> + +<p>"It's nothing like that," Gloria said.</p> + +<p>"So come on," Harold said. "Listen, I'm really a sweet guy when you get +to know me. You'd like me. Sure you would."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure," Gloria said. "But I really do have something to take care +of."</p> + +<p>"Can't you take care of it later?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Well ... all right, if you want me to grow up all frustrated." He +grinned at her and moved away.</p> + +<p>When they were all gone, and only Mr. Fredericksohn remained in his +private office, behind the closed door, Gloria opened a drawer of her +desk and took out a piece of modeling clay a little bigger than her +fist. Working without haste, and never bothering to look up she made a +doll in the shape of a tall, thin boy.</p> + +<p>The voodoo sects in Haiti used hair or fingernail parings from the +subject, Gloria knew; she had learned that in her college research, but +she had known about the doll long before. Hair and fingernail parings: +what superstition! And it wasn't as if you really needed the doll; if +necessary, you could get along very well without it. But it was a help; +it made things easier; and why not?</p> + +<p>She tried to picture Tom Francis. His mother's description of him had +been pretty vague, but Gloria found she could locate him at his house; +she turned the doll until she had the feeling of contact, and then—</p> + +<p>There.</p> + +<p>It didn't take long, actually, not once you had your subject located. +Tom hadn't really been a hard case; his juvenile delinquency, Gloria was +quite sure, was a thing of the past. He'd be back in school as soon as +the details could be worked out between Mrs. Francis and the Board of +Education, and that would take care of that.</p> + +<p>With a satisfied smile, she put the doll away in her drawer. She'd mash +it back into clay later in the afternoon; that would enable her to use +the same piece over and over again.</p> + +<p>Clay cost money, and a case worker's salary wasn't large. Gloria could +not see how she could put the cost of the clay down on a special +requisition, anyhow; she had to pay for it herself, and so she was very +careful and saving with it.</p> + +<p>After she'd put the Tom doll away with the Rudi doll, making a mental +note to take care of both of them before she left for the day, she +fished out her beret and put it on and went out for a quick lunch.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was just after two o'clock when Mr. Gerne came in. The others were +used to his periodic arrivals, of course, and Gloria had never felt any +fear of the director. He didn't work in the same office, but elsewhere +in the building, and once a week he made a habit of touring the various +social-work agencies under his direction.</p> + +<p>It kept the workers on their toes, Gloria imagined: the actual sight of +the boss' boss would do that. Mr. Gerne never smiled; he was a small, +thin-lipped man with white skin and very little hair. He stood in the +outer office, peering round, for a few minutes, and then, nodding his +head slowly, he went on and knocked at Mr. Fredericksohn's door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" Mr. Fredericksohn called from inside.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gerne," said Mr. Gerne. There was a little pause, and then Mr. +Fredericksohn said:</p> + +<p>"Ah. Come in."</p> + +<p>The door opened and shut and Mr. Gerne was invisible.</p> + +<p>Gloria picked up a folder and pretended to concentrate on it. Of course, +she could hear what was happening in the private office perfectly well. +She remembered studying medieval witchcraft and thought suddenly of +astral bodies.</p> + +<p>But that had been a guess some distance from the truth.</p> + +<p>The projection of the sense of hearing was such a simple thing, really; +why did people have to complicate it with all this talk about witches +and the soul—she was reminded of Mrs. Wladek but put the woman out of +her mind. Mr. Gerne was talking.</p> + +<p>"... For instance, the new girl—what's her name?"</p> + +<p>"Gloria Scott," Mr. Fredericksohn's voice said. "Yes?"</p> + +<p>"What's she like?" Mr. Gerne's voice said. "I don't know her +personally—of course I've seen her there in the office, and she seems +like a friendly, pretty girl. But you deal with her every day—"</p> + +<p>"Very nice," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Pleasant and easy to work with. A +good type. Now, you take her record—"</p> + +<p>"That's what I meant," Mr. Gerne said. "A record like that—it's just +not possible. There isn't any chance she's faking it?"</p> + +<p>After a little silence Mr. Fredericksohn said: "No chance at all. I've +had follow-ups on a random selection of her cases—standard practice for +a newcomer. Of course, she doesn't know about any of that."</p> + +<p>"Of course. And?"</p> + +<p>"No fakes," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "And don't tell me it's hard to +believe. I know perfectly well it's hard to believe."</p> + +<p>"No returns," Mr. Gerne said. "Not a single return in over a month."</p> + +<p>"Except the old woman," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Mrs. Wladek."</p> + +<p>Gloria turned a page in the report she was holding, without taking her +attention from the conversation in the private room.</p> + +<p>It was always helpful to know the kind of thing people said about you, +as well as what they thought. It gave you more facts to work with, and +made you more efficient and better able to work at your chosen +profession.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gerne was saying: "You can discount Mrs. Wladek. That one's a +trouble-spot."</p> + +<p>"Always has been," Mr. Fredericksohn said.</p> + +<p>"All right, then discount her," Mr. Gerne said. "Forget about her. +And—outside of that one case—there hasn't been a repeat."</p> + +<p>"Some of the clients have died," Mr. Fredericksohn said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gerne waited a second. Then he said: "A little higher percentage +than normal. So?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, that's a reason for some of the non-repeats."</p> + +<p>"And the others?" Mr. Gerne paused a minute and then went on. "You can't +discount the girl's record like that."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't trying to," Mr. Fredericksohn said mildly. "I was only +pointing out—"</p> + +<p>"Let those go," Mr. Gerne said. "Obviously she had no control over that +sort of thing. Unless you think she went out and killed them?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not." Mr. Fredericksohn said.</p> + +<p>"And outside of that, then—no repeats. The girl's a wonder."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Let's see how long it keeps up, +that's all."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gerne said: "Pessimist. All right, we'll drop the subject for now. +Anyway, I did want to talk to you about the progress reports we've been +getting from Frazier's office. It seems to me—"</p> + +<p>Gloria broke the connection. Frazier, a supervisor for another office, +didn't interest her; she only wanted to hear what the conversation about +herself would be like. Well, now she knew.</p> + +<p>And, thankfully, no one suspected a thing. Why, the subject had been +brought up, right in the open, and dropped without a word or a thought.</p> + +<p>"Unless you think she went out and killed them."</p> + +<p>Gloria didn't smile. The idea was not funny. Sometimes you had to do +something like that—but the necessity didn't make it pleasant.</p> + +<p>The trouble was that you couldn't always cure something by a simple +projection into the mind. Sometimes you ran into a compulsion that was +really deeply buried.</p> + +<p>If the compulsion was a big one, and went back far into childhood, +Gloria couldn't do anything directly about it. Sometimes it was possible +to work around, and, of course, you did that when you could. The +important thing was society, but you salvaged the individual wherever +possible.</p> + +<p>Where it wasn't possible—</p> + +<p>Well, here's a man who has a compulsion to get drunk. And, when drunk, +he's got to pick fights. Maybe he hasn't killed anybody in a fight +yet—but some day he will. He's got the strength and, under the +influence of sufficient alcohol, he's got no inhibitions about using it.</p> + +<p>None.</p> + +<p>You can let the man live, and by doing that kill an unknown number of +other people. At the least, keeping your hands and your mind off the +compulsive drinker-fighter will serve to injure others—how many others, +and how badly, you can't tell.</p> + +<p>There are times when you've got to take an individual life in your +hands.</p> + +<p>And yet, because you can't always be sure—</p> + +<p>Gloria's "talents" could kill out of hand, she was sure. But she didn't +use them that way. Instead, she simply projected a new compulsion into +the mind of her subject.</p> + +<p>The next time he got drunk and wanted to start a fight, he wanted to do +something else, too.</p> + +<p>For instance: walk along the edges of roofs.</p> + +<p>The original compulsion had been added to, and turned into a compulsion +toward suicide; that was what it amounted to.</p> + +<p>Gloria didn't like doing it, and she was always glad when it wasn't +necessary. But there was a dark side to everything—even, she thought, +helping people.</p> + +<p>She told herself grimly that it had to be done.</p> + +<p>And then she returned to her work.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek pounded on the door of the gypsy's store a few minutes +before four. Her face was white and her lips set in a thin line; she +breathed with difficulty and with every move she made she could feel her +old bones creak.</p> + +<p>It was a shame what was being done to an old woman.</p> + +<p>But did they care? Did any of them care?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek gave a little snort that was half laughter and half +self-pity. She pounded on the door again and dropped her arm, feeling +old and tired and nearly helpless.</p> + +<p>But she had to fight on.</p> + +<p>There was a limit to what an old woman could be expected to stand. They +would learn, all of them, what—</p> + +<p>The door opened.</p> + +<p>Marya Proderenska said: "Yes? You are early."</p> + +<p>"I am in a hurry. Terrible things have occurred."</p> + +<p>The gypsy woman sighed and stepped aside. "Come in, then," she said, and +Mrs. Wladek entered slowly, peering round the front room.</p> + +<p>"Come in the back," the gypsy woman said. "I have been preparing to help +you. But more is required."</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Wladek's turn to sigh. She reached into her purse and found +a fifty-cent piece, which she handed over very slowly.</p> + +<p>"More is required," the gypsy woman said, looking at the coin in her +hand as if, Mrs. Wladek thought, it was less than a penny. Did not the +woman realize that fifty cents was a great deal of money for a poor old +woman?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus2.png" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>No one had any pity any more.</p> + +<p>She handed over another fifty cents and the gypsy woman nodded sadly, +pocketed the money and led the way to the back room.</p> + +<p>"You will help me now?" Mrs. Wladek said.</p> + +<p>"I will try."</p> + +<p>The room was silent as the gypsy woman brought all her knowledge and +experience into play. Finally she looked at Mrs. Wladek and said: "A +very powerful curse has been put upon you. I can't help you."</p> + +<p>"The Church will help me!" Mrs. Wladek screamed. "They have the power to +exorcise—"</p> + +<p>"Do not speak to me of churches," the gypsy woman shouted.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "You, who steal my money, who steal the +bread from my old mouth without pity—"</p> + +<p>"A woman must live," Marya Proderenska said, with great dignity.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The housekeeper had said Father Seador was at supper. This did not make +a difference. Mrs. Wladek's problem was certainly serious enough to +interfere with any man's supper. Father Seador was overweight in any +case; should he miss the entire meal it would not do him any harm. Marie +Wladek had a problem, and a serious one; let him miss his supper. It was +his job to help people.</p> + +<p>But Father Seador would certainly not be in the best of moods.</p> + +<p>He was not.</p> + +<p>He arrived with his face set in firm lines of disapproval. Mrs. Wladek +got up from her chair and curtsied toward him, being very careful of her +old bones. He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Rudi in trouble again?" he said at once, taking a chair.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek sat herself down slowly. When she was settled, she looked +over at the middle-aged man. "Rudi has a job."</p> + +<p>"A job? A job?" Father Seador blinked. "That's fine. That's certainly +good news."</p> + +<p>"So you think," Mrs. Wladek said crisply.</p> + +<p>"Well, of course it's good news," Father Seador said. +"Responsibility ... steady income ... Mrs. Wladek, I'm sure this has +made you very happy, but if you'll pardon me." Father Seador stood up. +"I'm in the middle of—"</p> + +<p>"Wait," Mrs. Wladek said. "This is not what I have come to talk to you +about. It is <i>why</i> he has taken a job. It is <i>why</i> I will be taking a +job."</p> + +<p>"You?" Father Seador seemed incapable of speech. "Well, I—"</p> + +<p>"I am bewitched," Mrs. Wladek said. "A curse is upon me."</p> + +<p>"A curse? Well—" Father Seador stopped and cleared his throat. He sat +down again. He blinked. At last he said: "What's wrong, Mrs. Wladek?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you," she said. "A curse. A curse. I want you to exorcise +this witch that has put on me a hex."</p> + +<p>"Exorcise? Curse?" Father Seador coughed. "I'm sure you must be +mistaken, or—"</p> + +<p>"Mistaken? I am not mistaken. I tell you there is a curse upon me."</p> + +<p>The parlor was very quiet for a long time. At last Father Seador said: +"If you really believe you've been hexed, you'd better give me all the +details. When did you feel this ... this curse put upon you?"</p> + +<p>"This morning," Mrs. Wladek said.</p> + +<p>"And what kind of curse is this? I mean, what effect has it had?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek's voice was as hard as iron. "It has made my son take a job. +It has made me want to look for a job. In time, I will not be able to +fight the curse, and I will take a job. And then—"</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything wrong about that," Father Seador said mildly.</p> + +<p>"You see nothing wrong in a poor old woman being forced to work? In a +boy forced to grind out his youth among package-wrappers? You see +nothing wrong in this?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I ... we all have to work."</p> + +<p>"Here?" Mrs. Wladek said with astonishment. "Here in America, you +believe that? It is not so. My own uncle Bedrich has told me years ago +it is not so. Do you dispute the word of my own uncle Bedrich?"</p> + +<p>"My good woman," said Father Seador, "look around you ... your friends, +your neighbors—"</p> + +<p>"Let us say no more about it," Mrs. Wladek interrupted. "There is a +curse upon me and I have called on you to remove this curse."</p> + +<p>"How do you know this is a curse? Our minds do change, you know, and +they do strange things—"</p> + +<p>"I have been told," Mrs. Wladek said.</p> + +<p>"You've been told? By whom?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek drew herself up in the chair. "By Marya Proderenska, the +gypsy fortune teller. She knows that—"</p> + +<p>"A gypsy? You consulted a fortune teller?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wladek, do you know what you are saying ... what you have done? +Don't you realize you have committed a sin against—"</p> + +<p>But he was speaking to empty air. Marie Wladek was gone.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Gloria looked up at the little clock and sighed briefly. Five o'clock. +Another day gone already.</p> + +<p>It was a shame, in a way, that time passed so quickly. Gloria didn't +feel the least bit tired. After all, she had spent the day in helping +people, and that was what made life worthwhile.</p> + +<p>But it was quitting time. Staying late would give her the reputation of +an eager beaver, and that would make her unpopular. Not that she cared +for popularity for its own sake—certainly not!—but you couldn't do +your best work unless the others in your office were willing to help +you.</p> + +<p>Leaving on time was a simple sacrifice to make for them.</p> + +<p>She pulled open the desk drawer and got her beret. Then, as she was +putting it on, she remembered.</p> + +<p>In the other drawer were the clay models.</p> + +<p>She opened the drawer and pulled them out. She had barely reduced them +to a single amorphous lump when Mr. Fredericksohn passed her desk.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he said. "Clay?"</p> + +<p>"A nephew of mine," Gloria said coolly. "He likes to play with clay. I +bought some and I'm taking it home."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Of course. Good night."</p> + +<p>And he was gone. Gloria put the clay back into the drawer and reached +for her beret.</p> + +<p>Harold Meedy called from across the room: "Going home?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," she said.</p> + +<p>"Can I charter a bus and drop you somewhere?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," she said. "I've really got to get right home."</p> + +<p>"Listen," Harold said. He came over to her desk. "I've been trying to +get somewhere with you ever since you walked into this office. Now, +what's wrong with me? I haven't been able to get to first base. Don't +you like me?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Meedy," Gloria began, "it's just that ... well, I don't believe in +inter-personal relations on that level, not in the office. I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>He blinked. "You really believe that, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," she said.</p> + +<p>"But—" He shrugged. "O.K. O.K. I just wanted to know."</p> + +<p>The door closed behind him. Gloria felt a little relieved. If matters +had gone on the way they'd threatened, why, she might have had to change +Harold Meedy's mind for him. Not that it would have done him any harm, +but ... well, she just didn't like doing that sort of thing for purely +personal reasons.</p> + +<p>She was glad she hadn't had to tamper with him at all.</p> + +<p>And now it was over, and she could forget about it. Humming under her +breath, she put her beret on at last, and gave the stack of folders a +pat to keep them absolutely neat, before she left the office.</p> + +<p>She still felt a little sad about leaving on time, when there was so +much work to be done. But tomorrow, she told herself, she would be able +to get back to helping people. Tomorrow—</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Tomorrow.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes to nine, and Gloria put her beret away, reached for the +first folder—and froze.</p> + +<p>A second later the door opened. Gloria looked up and smiled helpfully. +"Mrs. Wladek," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you? This isn't +your day for—"</p> + +<p>"It is not my day," Mrs. Wladek said. She closed the door behind her. +"This, I know. But I am here. Does this mean anything to you?"</p> + +<p>Gloria forced her face to remain expressionless. "Can I help you in any +way?" she said. "Is there anything I can do?"</p> + +<p>"You?" Mrs. Wladek barked. "You have done enough. I am not here to see +you. But your supervisor, your boss—him, I will see."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"My supervisor?" Gloria looked round. "He isn't here yet."</p> + +<p>"He will be here later?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he will," Gloria said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek sat down in a chair next to Gloria's desk. "I will wait," +she announced. "And you should know that there is nothing you can do to +me now." She reached into her bag and brought out a small wooden cross +she had brought with her from the old country. She waved it at Gloria +wildly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus3.png" alt=""/> +</div> + +<p>"Do anything to you? What do you mean, Mrs. Wladek?"</p> + +<p>"Hah," Mrs. Wladek said. "You need not pretend with me. This frightens +you. No?"</p> + +<p>Gloria blinked. "I'm afraid not," she said.</p> + +<p>"But ... you are trying to fool me," Mrs. Wladek said. "And I will not +be fooled. I wait here for your boss, your supervisor."</p> + +<p>There was nothing else to do. "All right," Gloria said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Everybody stared, of course, but none of the other workers came over to +find out why Mrs. Wladek had come in on a day that wasn't her +appointment day. With Mrs. Wladek right there, asking questions just +wasn't possible. Gloria tried to get some work done, but that wasn't +possible either, and she resigned herself at last to sitting quietly and +waiting for Mr. Fredericksohn's arrival.</p> + +<p>She promised herself she'd make up for the loss of time by taking a +shorter lunch hour, and that relieved her mind a little. But she did +hope Mr. Fredericksohn would be early.</p> + +<p>Thankfully, he was. At nine twenty-five exactly, the door opened and Mr. +Fredericksohn entered. He glanced once round the office, saw Mrs. Wladek +and went on. A second later he stopped.</p> + +<p>He didn't have a chance to say anything. Mrs. Wladek was at his side. "I +must see you at once," she said. "I must see you alone, at once."</p> + +<p>He stared at her. "Miss Scott here, I'm sure, can—"</p> + +<p>"It is about Miss Scott that I want to talk to you," Mrs. Wladek hissed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fredericksohn glanced at Gloria. She busied herself with papers. At +last he said: "Come with me," and led Mrs. Wladek down the aisle into +his private office. The door closed.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes passed and the door opened. Mr. Fredericksohn's head +projected. "Miss Scott," he said. "May I see you for a minute?"</p> + +<p>The curiosity in the office was almost a solid pressure, but Gloria paid +it no attention. She said: "Certainly," put away the folder she had been +consulting, and went in.</p> + +<p>There, at the side of Mr. Fredericksohn's desk, Mrs. Wladek was sitting, +looking determined, grim and baffled all at once. Gloria stood in front +of the desk and Mr. Fredericksohn seated himself behind it, the large +open window at his back.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Fredericksohn?" Gloria said.</p> + +<p>"I have told him all," Mrs. Wladek said. "All. Everything. Total."</p> + +<p>"Er ... yes," Mr. Fredericksohn said. He faced Gloria resolutely. "Mrs. +Wladek has said something about a ... about a spell. Do you know what +she might be talking about? Something you said, some impression you gave +her—"</p> + +<p>"A spell?" Gloria shook her head. "I can't think how she got that idea," +she said calmly.</p> + +<p>"You do not fool him," Mrs. Wladek said. "He knows. I have told him +all."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Mr. Fredericksohn murmured. "But perhaps some little +thing—"</p> + +<p>"My report will be ready in an hour," Gloria said. "But I'm sure there +was nothing."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fredericksohn coughed convulsively. "I suppose not," he said. "I +realize this is rather unpleasant for you—"</p> + +<p>"I quite understand," Gloria said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wladek came out of her chair in a single movement and clutched +Gloria by the left arm. "What is happening?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fredericksohn avoided her eye. "Please sit down," he said. And then, +to Gloria: "Miss Scott, if you'll make the call ... you know what I +mean?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said.</p> + +<p>"The—" He whispered it: "The hospital?"</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" Mrs. Wladek demanded. "What did you tell her?"</p> + +<p>Gloria disengaged herself and went to the door. As she shut it behind +her she could hear Mrs. Wladek's voice, rising to a crescendo of threats +and abuse, and Mr. Fredericksohn's calm, scholarly attempts to stem the +tide. She almost smiled.</p> + +<p>Then she went to her own desk and picked up the telephone.</p> + +<p>Actually, she told herself, matters had worked out for the best. Rudi +had a job, and would grow into a fully functioning member of society. +Mrs. Wladek would not be on the relief rolls any longer.</p> + +<p>And what Mrs. Wladek wanted—a place to live, and someone to take care +of her—would certainly be provided for her.</p> + +<p>Yes, everything had worked out for the best. And, next time, she'd be +able to handle a situation like Mrs. Wladek's with less trouble. Gloria +looked into the future—into a long series of days and weeks, helping +people, getting them to do what was best for them. Oh, sometimes they +wouldn't like it right away, but you had to expect that. What was best +for them—</p> + +<p>Gloria smiled to herself quietly, and dialed a number.</p> + +<p>On the second ring, a voice said: "Bellevue Admitting."</p> + +<p>"We'd appreciate your sending an ambulance and attendants right away," +Gloria said. "For the psychiatric wards."</p> + +<p>THE END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Hex, by Laurence Mark Janifer (AKA Larry M. 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Harris) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hex + +Author: Laurence Mark Janifer (AKA Larry M. Harris) + +Release Date: January 22, 2008 [EBook #24397] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEX *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + HEX + + BY LARRY M. HARRIS + + Illustrated by Summers + +[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction May 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + + _She was a young, enthusiastic worker for the Welfare Department. + She liked helping people ... only she really-but-good helped them!_ + + +The office wasn't very bright or sunny, but that didn't matter. In the +first place, if Gloria really wanted sun, she could always get some by +tuning in on a mind outside, someone walking the streets of downtown New +York. And, in the second place, the weather wasn't important; what +mattered was how you felt inside. Gloria took off her beret and crammed +it into a drawer of her desk. She sat down, feeling perfectly ready for +work, her bright eyes sparkling and her whole twenty-one-year-old body +eager for the demands of the day. + +It was ten minutes to nine in the morning. + +On the desk was a mass of reports and folders. Gloria looked at them and +sighed; the cleaning woman, she thought, must have upset everything +again. + +But neatness was the keystone of good, efficient work in any field. +Gloria set to work rearranging everything in a proper order. The job +took her nearly twenty minutes and, by the time she was finished, the +office was full. + +Mr. Fredericksohn hadn't arrived yet, naturally. He always came in +around nine-thirty. But all of the case workers were ready for the day's +work. Gloria looked around the office at them, beaming. It was good to +be able to help people and to know that what you were doing was right. + +She remembered wondering how you could be sure you were right about +somebody else, if you couldn't read minds. But, then, there were rules +to go by, and all of the fine classes and textbooks that a social case +worker had to have. If you paid attention, and if you really wanted to +help people, Gloria supposed, it was all right. Certainly everything in +her own office seemed to run smoothly. + +Not that she would ever do anything about another worker, no matter +what. Gloria remembered what Mr. Greystone, a teacher of hers had said, +a year or so before: "Never interfere with the case load of another +worker. Your sole job is represented by your own case load." + +That was good advice, Gloria thought. And, anyhow, her assistance didn't +seem to be too badly needed, among the others. She had quite enough to +do in taking care of her own clients. + +And here she was, wasting time! She shook her head and breathed a little +sigh, and began on the first folder. + +Name: GIRONDE, JOSE R. + + * * * * * + +_Name: Wladek, Mrs. Marie Posner._ She was no fool. She knew about the +reports they had to make, and the sheets covered with all the details of +your very own private life; she had seen them on a desk when she had +come to keep her appointment. Mrs. Wladek was her name, and that was how +the report would look, with her name all reversed in order right on the +top. And underneath that there would be her address and her story, all +that she had told the case workers, set right down in black and white +for anybody at all to read. + +When you were poor, you had no privacy, and that was the truth. Mrs. +Wladek shook her head. A poor old woman, that was all that she was, and +privacy was a luxury not to be asked for. Who said the United States was +different from the old country? + +_Cossacks_, she thought. In the old country, one still heard the old +stories, the streets paved with gold and the food waiting for such as +yourself; oh, the war had not changed that in the least. Now the Voice +of America was heard in the old country--she had a letter, smuggled out, +from her own second-cousin Marfa, telling her all about the Voice of +America--and that was only another trap. They wanted to make you leave +your own land and your own country, and come far away to America and to +the United States, so that you would have no friends and you would be +defenseless. + +Then you could not help yourself. Then you had to do what they asked +you, because there was no other way to eat. There were no friends to +feed you dinners or to allow you room in a good house. No. There was +only the case worker with her reports that took the last bit of privacy +away from an old woman, and left her with barely enough money to remain +alive. + +"Get a job," they said. "Tell your son to get a job. He is young and +strong and healthy." + +Certainly! But the United States is not a place in which to work. The +United States will give you money. This fact she had from her uncle +Bedrich, who had come to the new country years before, and who had +written many letters back to his family before his death in an accident. + +Should she, then, work? Should her own son, her own Rudi, be forced to +work out his time of youth? Surely a little privacy was a small enough +thing to surrender for freedom and ease? + +But that they should ask for you to surrender it ... _Cossacks!_ + +Mrs. Wladek stood up carefully--her old bones creaked, and she could +feel them creaking. She looked around the tiny living room, covered with +dust. One should have the money to hire a maid. But the case workers had +never understood that. Young things, of course they knew nothing of the +troubles facing an old woman. + +An old woman needed a maid. + +She laughed briefly to herself at the idea, and realized at the same +time that she had been hiding her own thoughts from herself. + +Today was her appointment day, and the new one would be there, blond and +young and smiling at her with the innocent face. There was something +wrong with the new one; she could see that. In the old country there +were stories-- + +_Are you, Marie Wladek, afraid of a young woman? Does your age count for +nothing? Does your experience and knowledge count for nothing?_ + +And yet, she had to admit to herself that she was afraid, and that she +was afraid of giving a name to her fear. Only a fool could mock at the +stories told in the old country, and Mrs. Wladek knew of such a fool; he +had died with mockery on his lips, but all had known what had killed +him. + +_Can you not battle a young woman, and win, Marie Wladek?_ + +And yet the young woman had something strange about her, and Mrs. Wladek +remembered the old stories, and thought of witchcraft. + +Who could fight witchcraft? + +Even when the witch was a young girl without experience, and with an +innocent face and blond hair-- + +Mrs. Wladek looked at the mantel clock she had brought with her across +the ocean. It told perfect time; it was as good as everything from the +old country. Here in America they had no such clocks. Here everything +ran by electricity, and when you touched it there was a shock, which was +unnatural. + +The old clock told the time: nine-thirty. Appointment hour was +approaching. Mrs. Wladek did not want to leave the house. She did not +want to face this new case worker. + +But, all the same, one had to have money to live. + +That they should force an old woman to travel across the city and to +speak with a girl, by appointment, solely in order to get the money +which should have been hers by right! + +Cossacks! Monsters! + +_Name:_ GIRONDE, JOSE R. + +_Address:_ 1440 Hamilton Street + +_Borough:_ New York + +_Phone:_ None + +_Complaint:_ Client is over fifty, without work for eight months--last +worked in October--due to recurrent difficulty regarding back. Sole +support wife and wife's sister. One child (Ramon, 27), living on West +Coast. Preliminary inquiries fail to locate child. + +_Remarks:_ NPH. Examination needed. Is back injury chronic? + +There was a great deal of paper work needed, Gloria realized. At first +she hadn't liked the paper work at all, but she could see now how +necessary it was. After all, everybody wasn't like her; the other +workers, she knew, didn't have her particular talent, and they had to +write things down for fear they'd forget. + +Sometimes Gloria felt very sorry for the other case workers. But she +knew they were doing their very best, and they were, after all, helping +people. That was the only important thing: to help people, to make them +better members of society. + +Now, Jose Gironde's back injury was certainly chronic. Gloria tried to +remember the medical term for it: it was something to do with a +lordosis. She'd paid no attention to that, since she had been trying to +fix up the back instead. + +But now a doctor had to be called, and a thorough examination had to be +given, all so that the records would show what Gloria knew already. A +case worker couldn't fill out a medical report; you had to be a doctor +to do that. + +And it didn't matter, Gloria knew, if you had all the information at +your fingertips, and even knew more than the doctor. (Gloria could have +cured Jose Gironde's back easily; a doctor couldn't do that.) +Examination was the doctor's job. + +It was like being a member of a team, Gloria thought. + +That felt good. + +She got out the list of doctors which all the case workers used, and +followed it down with her finger. Dr. Willmarth was free, she knew, on +Thursday morning at eleven. + +Luckily, Jose Gironde was free at the same hour. She made a note to call +the doctor and make an appointment, and to clear the appointment with +Jose Gironde, and made a duplicate note on the report sheet. + +That would take care of that. + +The paper work, after all, wasn't so very hard. All she had to do now +was to make the actual calls, and then wait for the written result of +the examination. When that had come through, she would be able to +recommend Jose Gironde for permanent relief, as was obviously indicated +in his case. + +The back injury could not be corrected by medical science. And if Gloria +were to correct it-- + +"Your job as a case worker is clearly defined," a teacher had said. +"Meddling in another's province, without the permission of your +supervisor, is always uncalled-for." + +In other words, Gloria thought, the _status quo_ has to be kept. And +that, too, made sense when you thought about it. + +She looked up to see Harold Meedy smiling across the room at her. She +smiled back, very briefly, and went back to her own work. + +"Interpersonal relationships within the office framework," a +teacher--Mr. Greystone?--had said, "are fraught with danger, and should +be handled with the greatest care." + +If Harold Meedy wanted to get acquainted with her, that was his affair. +She didn't feel that she could conscientiously encourage him in the +slightest. Not only was he a fellow worker, which made the whole +situation more complicated than it would ordinarily have been, but he +was a small pudgy man with pimples and an earnest expression. He looked +as if he would be a bore, and a difficult person to get rid of. + +He was. + +Gloria just didn't think he was exactly her type. + +And if he went on trying, she thought regretfully, she would be forced +to do something about it. Of course, Meedy would never know the +difference, but even so, Gloria didn't like to do any unnecessary work. +Changing someone's mind was a delicate job, and a responsible one, not +to be undertaken for a small motive. + +Even if the person never knew his mind had been changed at all-- + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Wladek, in her apartment, shrugged on an old coat and compressed +her lips with weariness. Appointment time was near, and a person had to +be punctual. + +Even when a person was going to see a young girl who was strange and +frightening, and who might do-- + +_Well, don't be a foolish old woman_, Mrs. Wladek told herself. Rudi +would have told her that. But Rudi was out somewhere, with a girl or +with some of his friends, like a good American boy. + +Don't be a foolish old woman, Rudi would have said. + +But Mrs. Wladek was frightened. + + * * * * * + +It was nearly ten o'clock, Gloria noticed. She did not feel in the least +tired; she was still eager and ready for work. She decided she had time +for one more folder before the first of her appointments arrived. + +She reached out for it and saw Mr. Fredericksohn coming in the door. He +smiled at her, a tall, white-haired man with a square face, who radiated +enormous efficiency and a certain distant friendliness. + +She did not say hello, but merely nodded. Mr. Fredericksohn liked to +take the initiative himself, in all relationships. + +"How are we doing today?" he said, peering over her shoulder. + +"Fine," she said happily. "Just fine." + +Mr. Fredericksohn grunted. "I see Mrs. Wladek's on your schedule today." + +"That's right," she said. + +"Just do what you can," he said. "You've seen her before, haven't you?" + +She nodded. "Once. Last week." + +"She's a--problem," he said. Mr. Fredericksohn was always a little chary +of saying anything that might be construed as derogatory to a client, +even in the privacy of professional conversation. + +"I'm sure we'll be able to work things out," Gloria said. + +"Well," Mr. Fredericksohn said, and paused. Then he nodded. "You do what +you can," he said. His voice sounded doubtful. + +She beamed up at him. "I certainly will," she said with enthusiasm. + +Mr. Fredericksohn nodded and muttered something, and went on by. + +Gloria smiled. Oh, she was going to show Mr. Fredericksohn, all right! +He just wasn't sure she could handle Mrs. Wladek--and the old woman +certainly did represent a problem. Her folder was full of notations by +case worker after case worker. But Gloria's smile broadened just a +trifle. + +My goodness, everything was going to be all right. She was sure Mr. +Fredericksohn would be happy with her work. + +Though the important thing wasn't her own success, but the people +themselves. If you could help them to be bright, and happy, and +successful, then that was the best job in the world. + +And she could. + +My goodness, yes. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Wladek looked at the door for a long time without opening it. She +didn't want to go in--certainly not. But there was her appointment, and +money was needed; she had no choice. The cossacks of America had forced +her to this pass, and she was an old woman; what could she do? Fight +them? + +One had to give in. + +She reached for the doorknob and turned it and opened the door. + +There were all the desks, and the men and women working. And near the +far corner, on the left, the girl sat studying a sheet of paper. Mrs. +Wladek looked at the blond hair and the pretty face and the slight +figure, and shivered. + +But she had no choice; she went across the room and when she had almost +reached the desk the girl said: "Good morning, Mrs. Wladek." + +How had she known? Mrs. Wladek had made no sound in walking to the desk. +Yet the girl had known someone was there, and who that someone was, +before her head had been raised. Truly, the girl was frightening. + +Mrs. Wladek eased herself, feeling her bones creak, into a chair at the +side of the desk. She said nothing. + +"How are things going?" the girl said in her pleasant smooth voice. + +"I am fine," Mrs. Wladek said deliberately. She did not inquire about +the girl's health. That would show her; that impoliteness would show her +what an old woman thought of her! + +"That's good," the girl said. "That's very good. And how is Rudi?" + +"Rudi is my son," Mrs. Wladek said. + +"I know that," the girl said, and smiled. "We met last week, don't you +remember?" + +"I remember you," Mrs. Wladek said. Then, grudgingly, she added: "Rudi +is the same. He is fine." + +"That's fine," the girl said. "And has he found a job yet?" + +Here it was necessary to lie, Mrs. Wladek knew. One could not say that +Rudi did not look for work. One had to say: "Work is difficult to find. +He tries, but there is no job." + +"And how about yourself?" the girl said. + +"I am an old woman," Mrs. Wladek said. "Who would hire an old woman?" + +The girl nodded. "It's been a long time since your husband died," she +said. + +"In an accident with an automobile," Mrs. Wladek said. "I remember that +time. It is sad to think of." + +"And Rudi hasn't found any work in all that time," the girl said. + +"He looks hard," Mrs. Wladek said earnestly. This was a game that had to +be played, she knew, a conversation that started and finished each time +she came for an appointment. "He looks but work is difficult to find," +she said. + +"I understand," the girl said. "But I'm sure you and Rudi will both find +work soon." She paused and her eyes closed. + +Mrs. Wladek felt something happen. + +It was ... she felt ... a stirring, a changing-- + +She stood up suddenly and the chair clattered, balanced and rocked back +upright. "What are you doing?" + +"Doing?" the girl said. + +"I go to look for work," Mrs. Wladek said. "You make me want to look for +work!" + +"That's fine, Mrs. Wladek," the girl said. "That's just fine." + +"But I want to look for work!" Mrs. Wladek said, horrified. "What do you +do to me?" + +The girl only smiled. + +Mrs. Wladek spun and ran for the door, her eyes wide; but she collided +with a desk and backed off, and then managed to find her way. The door +banged behind her. + +Gloria sat at her desk smiling, filled with satisfaction. Of course, a +reaction like Mrs. Wladek's was only to be expected, but when it was +over she would be looking for work. + +Gloria released the little doll she had held throughout the interview +and let it fall back, out of sight, into her desk drawer. The doll was +shaped into a vague female likeness. + +She didn't need it now. + +Her work was done. + +Mrs. Wladek was going to look for work, and that would adjust her to the +world. She would be a functioning member of society now, and it would do +her a lot of good. Rudi, too--Gloria considered Rudi. There was another +doll in the drawer, a male, and after a few seconds she put her hand in +the drawer and fished around until she had found it. + +She turned it slowly, feeling for the son, until at last she had made +contact. + +There. + +He was talking with some friends; it would not be hard. She +concentrated, and at the same time she heard him talking: + +"So look, here's the way I see it. We got the Cobras on our necks, we +got to get rid of them, right?" + +Someone said: "Right, Rudi." + +"So if we start a little rumble, very quiet so the cops don't figure +what's going on, then we--" + +A silence. + +Someone said: "What's wrong, Rudi?" + +"I don't know. Something. What am I doing just standing here?" + +And someone said: "What do you mean?" + +"I mean I ought to be out getting a job, man. Earning some bread for the +old lady. Got to have money, got to have a job." + +Someone said: "Hey, Rudi. Wait. What's the hurry?" + +And Rudi had gone. + +Gloria dropped the doll and closed the drawer, and sat back, smiling +gently. It was wonderful to be able to help people. + +It was just wonderful. + +_Find work. Find a job._ + +_Go to the employment agency._ + +_Start looking for work, right now._ + +_Get a job._ + +_It will be nice to have a steady job._ + +_Nice--_ + +Somehow, Mrs. Wladek fought off the voices in her mind. It was so easy +to succumb to them and to drift into the terrible things they wanted. +Mrs. Wladek did not want them at all. + +A job, indeed! + +But it took effort, all the same, to concentrate on herself instead of +the work, the job, the employment agency. It took effort to sit down on +a bench in the park, near the building where the case workers were, and +plan out the next step. + +A witch, certainly. The girl was a witch and she had put a hex on Mrs. +Wladek, and that hex had to be removed. + +How? + +Mrs. Wladek thought first of the old woman in the store. + +Certainly a gypsy woman would be able to take off a hex. Mrs. Wladek +remembered gypsies from the old country, laughing people with the +strange gift, witches themselves but always available for a price-- + +The gypsy woman. + +Mrs. Wladek stood up and began to walk toward the park's exit. She +forced her legs to move, creaking, one step at a time, thinking to +herself: _The gypsy woman, the gypsy woman, the gypsy woman_--and trying +to ignore the voices in her head that went on and on: + +_It would be good to find a job._ + +_Go right away to the employment agency._ + +_Right away--_ + +There were those who laughed--Marya Proderenska thought--and there would +always be those who laughed, but that did not injure her; for scoffers +she felt only a vast contempt. Had she not been shown in a dream that +the power was hers? Had not each of her husbands, even the third who had +contracted the fever and died with great suddenness in three weeks, +admitted to her that she had a power beyond that of any normal woman? It +was the power of vision and movement, the power of spell and +incantation. + +The others called it magic, though no gypsy would call it so. + +Marya Proderenska sat quietly in the back room of the little shop and +waited. A woman would come; she knew that, and the knowledge was another +piece of her power, and a proof of it. Farther she could not see, but in +the cloud of the future the woman was clear. + +(What power Marya Proderenska had, a blond social worker had, too, and +other people; she had never been able to clear her mind of her own +superstitions enough to train the power or work very effectively with +it. The power was sufficient for her.) + +Marya Proderenska sighed. The power demanded its own responsibilities. +She could not marry outside the clan into which she had been born. She +could not be seen on certain days of every month. During those days many +foods were forbidden her. + +Thus the power worked, and thus she lived. + +The woman would bring money for her, Marya knew. So she sat in the back +of the shop and waited, and sighed, until the front door sighed open and +Marie Wladek called: "Old woman, old woman!" + +"Do you call me?" Marya said in her proud baritone. + +"I call you, I call the gypsy woman." + +Marya stood up and smoothed her old dress over the big-boned frame all +of her husbands had admired. "Then come to me," she called. + +Marie Wladek crept into the room, her eyes saucers of awe. To speak of +witches was all very well, and a fresh-faced girl could give one fright; +but here was the authority and power of witchcraft, in this woman with +the fuzz of hair on her lip and the great trumpeting voice. + +"I come for help," Mrs. Wladek said. + +"I know why you have come," Marya Proderenska said. "You have a great +trouble." + +Mrs. Wladek nodded. "I am bewitched. A witch has placed a hex upon me, +and I come to you to remove it." + +There was a little silence. Then Marya Proderenska said: "The powers +will not do work without payment." + +Mrs. Wladek dug into her ancient beaded purse and found a crumpled +dollar bill. She handed it over and the gypsy woman smiled and ducked +her head. + +"It is enough," she said. + +Mrs. Wladek said: "Then you will help me?" + +"I will help you," the gypsy woman said. "Tell me of this curse upon +you." + +"There is a voice in my mind," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice tells +me--even now it continues--to go to an employment agency, to accept +work ... and the voice is not of my making." + +"Whose voice is this?" the gypsy woman said. + +"It is my own voice," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice is my own, but I did +not tell it to speak. Inside my own head, I can hear my own voice as if +someone else put it there." + +"Ah," the gypsy woman said. "And who is the witch who has put this curse +upon you?" + +Mrs. Wladek sighed. "At the office of the social workers, there is one, +a young woman. She has done this to me." + +Marya Proderenska nodded. Her eyes closed. + +Mrs. Wladek stared at the still figure without moving for a minute. Time +stretched endlessly. The room was very quiet; Mrs. Wladek heard the +continuing voice in her mind and felt fear. + +Another minute ticked by. + +At last the gypsy woman opened her eyes. "It is a strong curse," she +said in a distant voice. "But I have erased it for you. I have taken the +hex from you. Is it not so?" + +"Taken the hex--" Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "Then why do I still hear +the voice?" + +"You still hear it?" The gypsy woman muttered under her breath. "Come +back tomorrow. We work again." + +"Tomorrow is a long time." + +The gypsy woman closed her eyes for a second. "All right," she said, and +snapped them open. "Four o'clock this afternoon." + +"I will be here." + +"It is a strong curse." + +"You will help me," Mrs. Wladek said. + +"I will help you," Marya Proderenska said. + +But, after the old woman had left, Marya Proderenska sat alone and her +face was troubled. The strength of the curse--she had felt it +herself--was enormous. She did not know of any magician who had such +power. + +She listed over the members of her own clan in her mind, and became +satisfied that none she knew was responsible. And yet, the strength of +the curse argued real power; was it possible that a power existed within +the city, and she did not know of it? Marya felt a cold wind on her +back, the wind of fear. + +Such a power might do--anything. + +And yet it was being used to coerce one useless old woman into taking a +job! + +Marya Proderenska lay flat on the floor, her arms outstretched. Thus one +might gather the vital energies. Four o'clock was not many hours +distant, and by four o'clock she would need all of the energy she could +summon. + +She did not allow herself to become doubtful about the outcome. + +And yet she was afraid. + + * * * * * + +Gloria smiled understandingly at the woman who sat across the desk. + +"I understand, Mrs. Francis," she said. + +"It's not that Tom's a bad boy, you know," the woman said. "But +he's--easily led. That's the only thing." + +"Of course," Gloria said. She looked at the middle-aged woman, wearing a +gray suit that did not fit her overweight frame, and a silly little +white hat. "I'm sure everything's going to be all right," she said. + +Mrs. Francis gave a little gasp. "Oh, I hope so," she said. "Tom doesn't +mean to cause any trouble. He just doesn't understand--" + +Gloria went over the report sheets mentally. Tom didn't mean to cause +any trouble, but he had been involved in a gang war or two--nothing in +the way of Thompson sub-machine guns, of course, or mortars, just a few +pistols and zip-guns and rocks and broken bottles. + +Tom hadn't been killed yet. That was, Gloria thought sadly, only a +matter of time. He hadn't killed anybody yet, either--but he'd come +close. Tom had seen the inside of a jail or two a lot more recently than +he'd seen the inside of a classroom. + +Tom was easily led. + +Sure. + +Well, Gloria thought, the problem was to lead him into something more +productive and satisfying than the gangs of New York. And that didn't +seem to be too hard. + +Of course, she had very little practice as yet. The theoretical +knowledge she'd been able to dig up in college was mostly on the magic +and superstition shelves of the library--and, while she got full credit +in her minor, Anthropology, for the research she'd done, a great deal of +it just wasn't any practical help. + +Not if you _were_ a witch--or what passed for one. + +"You see what I mean, don't you?" Mrs. Francis said. + +"Of course I do," Gloria said, and gave the woman her most reassuring +smile. "I'm sure something can be done. Do you know where your boy is +now?" + +Mrs. Francis nodded, birdlike. "He's home now. I think he's sleeping. He +usually doesn't wake up until after noon." + +"I see." Gloria hesitated a moment. "Can you describe him for me?" + +"Describe him?" + +"That's right," Gloria said. "You see, the somatotypes have, we've +discovered, a great influence on mental and emotional makeup." + +She didn't feel right, lying to the woman--but chances were that what +she'd said didn't make any sense to Mrs. Francis and, in any case, +Gloria could hardly tell her the real reason she wanted a description. + +It would aid in making the doll she needed. + +"He's about six feet tall," Mrs. Francis said, "but he's very thin, and +sometimes I worry about that. I try to give him the best nourishment I +know how, but he--" + +"What color is his hair?" Gloria interrupted. + +"Oh," Mrs. Francis said. "Brown. And brown eyes. Really nice eyes; +they're his best feature; everybody says so." + +"Any distinguishing marks, or anything unusual about him?" + +"He has a scar now, on his left arm just below the elbow, but he got +that in a fight with these boys--" + +"All right," Gloria said. "Thank you very much." + +"What are you going to do?" Mrs. Francis said. "You're not going to have +him arrested or anything, are you? Because he's not a bad boy, you know +that. He's only--" + +"Easily led," Gloria finished. "Of course. There won't be any need for +arrest, or for anything as drastic as that. You just go home now, and +don't worry. I'm sure everything's going to be all right." + +"I only want to help my boy," Mrs. Francis said. + +"Of course you do," Gloria said. "I want to help him, too." + +Mrs. Francis stood up and swallowed hard. "I appreciate that," she said. + +"It's my job, that's all," Gloria said, feeling unaccountably shy. As +the woman left she thought about that embarrassment and finally decided +that she felt she had no right to be complimented. She was doing a job; +it needed to be done; that was all. + +True, she had special talents for the job--but Mrs. Francis didn't know +that, and she hadn't made the talents anyhow, but been born with them. + +Congratulations? + +Don't be silly. + +As a matter of fact, Gloria thought, she deserved a good talking-to. She +hadn't had enough experience, and that was the simple truth. It was all +very well to work on a boy like Rudi, or another one like Tom Francis, +when they didn't have any idea who you were or even that you were trying +to do something. That was easy. + +But a woman like Mrs. Wladek-- + +She was suspicious from the start, and Gloria thought that perhaps she +shouldn't have done anything. But it was obvious that the woman needed +help to become a functioning member of society. + +The only trouble was that Gloria hadn't been quite expert enough. Oh, +given enough time, the command would work, and eventually become part of +the personality. But, because Mrs. Wladek had been afraid and a little +forewarned, she'd been able to fight off the command a little. + +_Practice_, Gloria told herself, _makes perfect._ And it wasn't her +fault that she couldn't do any better. Next time, she'd have a little +more practice and she'd be able to do a clearer and more complete job. + +And, in the meantime, there was no real harm done. Mrs. Wladek would +come round, before long, and then everything would be all right. + +Why, after all, there was Rudi, too. And Rudi undoubtedly had a job by +now, or at least a good chance of one through an employment agency. + +There was no reason to be depressed. + + * * * * * + +Her son was waiting for her when she arrived at her home once more. Mrs. +Wladek looked at the boy with relief and some suspicion. It was not +natural for Rudi to be at home during such an hour; he was out with his +friends through the day, and this was good for a boy. + +"Ma," Rudi said, "guess what?" + +"You are in trouble," Mrs. Wladek said at once, in a heavy voice. + +"Trouble? I got no troubles, ma," Rudi said. He stood before her in the +dusty living room, self-assured and proud, and it came to Mrs. Wladek +all at once that her boy was a man. + +"What is it?" she demanded. "Tell me at once." + +"Sure I will. Ma," Rudi said. "I got a job. I start tomorrow. In an +office, wrapping things. The mail room, they call it." + +Silence descended on the little room. + +"Ma," Rudi said at last. "Ma, what's wrong?" + +"Wrong?" Mrs. Wladek said. "What should be wrong? Nothing at all is +wrong. You have a job, very well, you have a job." + +"You're not happy about it, Ma?" + +Mrs. Wladek gave a short bark. "Happy? Indeed I should be happy? My son +goes to work, like a dog, and I should be--" She paused and gasped +suddenly. "Why did you go to work?" + +"You mean why did I get a job, Ma?" Rudi said. "Listen, let's have +supper and we'll talk about it, huh?" + +"Supper?" Mrs. Wladek snorted. "Supper we will have when I find out what +I need to know. Not before." + +"But I'm hungry, Ma, and ... oh, all right." Rudi sat down on the old +brown couch and sighed. "I just thought it would be a good idea to get a +job, bring some bread into the house, you know? So I went down to the +agency, and they had this application waiting, and I went down and got +the job, and I start tomorrow. That's all. Now let's eat." + +"You got the idea to have a job?" Mrs. Wladek said. "Fine. Fine. Just +fine. And when did you get this idea?" + +"I don't know," Rudi said, and shrugged. "Some time. This morning, +maybe. Look, what difference does it make? I thought you'd like the +idea, Ma. Some more dough coming in ... you know." + +"This morning." Mrs. Wladek raised clenched fists over her head. +"Cossacks!" she screamed. "Monsters! Witches!" + +Lunchtime. + +Gloria looked up and smiled sweetly and distantly as Harold Meedy +appeared at her desk. "Got any special place to go?" he said. + +"As a matter of fact--" she began, but he was too quick for her. + +"It's always 'as a matter of fact,'" he said. "What's the matter--you +got another boy friend or something? You don't like poor Harold? Look, +Gloria, if you want to avoid me, then you go ahead and avoid me. But--" + +"It's nothing like that," Gloria said. + +"So come on," Harold said. "Listen, I'm really a sweet guy when you get +to know me. You'd like me. Sure you would." + +"I'm sure," Gloria said. "But I really do have something to take care +of." + +"Can't you take care of it later?" + +She shook her head. + +"Well ... all right, if you want me to grow up all frustrated." He +grinned at her and moved away. + +When they were all gone, and only Mr. Fredericksohn remained in his +private office, behind the closed door, Gloria opened a drawer of her +desk and took out a piece of modeling clay a little bigger than her +fist. Working without haste, and never bothering to look up she made a +doll in the shape of a tall, thin boy. + +The voodoo sects in Haiti used hair or fingernail parings from the +subject, Gloria knew; she had learned that in her college research, but +she had known about the doll long before. Hair and fingernail parings: +what superstition! And it wasn't as if you really needed the doll; if +necessary, you could get along very well without it. But it was a help; +it made things easier; and why not? + +She tried to picture Tom Francis. His mother's description of him had +been pretty vague, but Gloria found she could locate him at his house; +she turned the doll until she had the feeling of contact, and then-- + +There. + +It didn't take long, actually, not once you had your subject located. +Tom hadn't really been a hard case; his juvenile delinquency, Gloria was +quite sure, was a thing of the past. He'd be back in school as soon as +the details could be worked out between Mrs. Francis and the Board of +Education, and that would take care of that. + +With a satisfied smile, she put the doll away in her drawer. She'd mash +it back into clay later in the afternoon; that would enable her to use +the same piece over and over again. + +Clay cost money, and a case worker's salary wasn't large. Gloria could +not see how she could put the cost of the clay down on a special +requisition, anyhow; she had to pay for it herself, and so she was very +careful and saving with it. + +After she'd put the Tom doll away with the Rudi doll, making a mental +note to take care of both of them before she left for the day, she +fished out her beret and put it on and went out for a quick lunch. + + * * * * * + +It was just after two o'clock when Mr. Gerne came in. The others were +used to his periodic arrivals, of course, and Gloria had never felt any +fear of the director. He didn't work in the same office, but elsewhere +in the building, and once a week he made a habit of touring the various +social-work agencies under his direction. + +It kept the workers on their toes, Gloria imagined: the actual sight of +the boss' boss would do that. Mr. Gerne never smiled; he was a small, +thin-lipped man with white skin and very little hair. He stood in the +outer office, peering round, for a few minutes, and then, nodding his +head slowly, he went on and knocked at Mr. Fredericksohn's door. + +"Who's there?" Mr. Fredericksohn called from inside. + +"Mr. Gerne," said Mr. Gerne. There was a little pause, and then Mr. +Fredericksohn said: + +"Ah. Come in." + +The door opened and shut and Mr. Gerne was invisible. + +Gloria picked up a folder and pretended to concentrate on it. Of course, +she could hear what was happening in the private office perfectly well. +She remembered studying medieval witchcraft and thought suddenly of +astral bodies. + +But that had been a guess some distance from the truth. + +The projection of the sense of hearing was such a simple thing, really; +why did people have to complicate it with all this talk about witches +and the soul--she was reminded of Mrs. Wladek but put the woman out of +her mind. Mr. Gerne was talking. + +"... For instance, the new girl--what's her name?" + +"Gloria Scott," Mr. Fredericksohn's voice said. "Yes?" + +"What's she like?" Mr. Gerne's voice said. "I don't know her +personally--of course I've seen her there in the office, and she seems +like a friendly, pretty girl. But you deal with her every day--" + +"Very nice," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Pleasant and easy to work with. A +good type. Now, you take her record--" + +"That's what I meant," Mr. Gerne said. "A record like that--it's just +not possible. There isn't any chance she's faking it?" + +After a little silence Mr. Fredericksohn said: "No chance at all. I've +had follow-ups on a random selection of her cases--standard practice for +a newcomer. Of course, she doesn't know about any of that." + +"Of course. And?" + +"No fakes," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "And don't tell me it's hard to +believe. I know perfectly well it's hard to believe." + +"No returns," Mr. Gerne said. "Not a single return in over a month." + +"Except the old woman," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Mrs. Wladek." + +Gloria turned a page in the report she was holding, without taking her +attention from the conversation in the private room. + +It was always helpful to know the kind of thing people said about you, +as well as what they thought. It gave you more facts to work with, and +made you more efficient and better able to work at your chosen +profession. + +Mr. Gerne was saying: "You can discount Mrs. Wladek. That one's a +trouble-spot." + +"Always has been," Mr. Fredericksohn said. + +"All right, then discount her," Mr. Gerne said. "Forget about her. +And--outside of that one case--there hasn't been a repeat." + +"Some of the clients have died," Mr. Fredericksohn said. + +Mr. Gerne waited a second. Then he said: "A little higher percentage +than normal. So?" + +"I mean, that's a reason for some of the non-repeats." + +"And the others?" Mr. Gerne paused a minute and then went on. "You can't +discount the girl's record like that." + +"I wasn't trying to," Mr. Fredericksohn said mildly. "I was only +pointing out--" + +"Let those go," Mr. Gerne said. "Obviously she had no control over that +sort of thing. Unless you think she went out and killed them?" + +"Of course not." Mr. Fredericksohn said. + +"And outside of that, then--no repeats. The girl's a wonder." + +"Certainly," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Let's see how long it keeps up, +that's all." + +Mr. Gerne said: "Pessimist. All right, we'll drop the subject for now. +Anyway, I did want to talk to you about the progress reports we've been +getting from Frazier's office. It seems to me--" + +Gloria broke the connection. Frazier, a supervisor for another office, +didn't interest her; she only wanted to hear what the conversation about +herself would be like. Well, now she knew. + +And, thankfully, no one suspected a thing. Why, the subject had been +brought up, right in the open, and dropped without a word or a thought. + +"Unless you think she went out and killed them." + +Gloria didn't smile. The idea was not funny. Sometimes you had to do +something like that--but the necessity didn't make it pleasant. + +The trouble was that you couldn't always cure something by a simple +projection into the mind. Sometimes you ran into a compulsion that was +really deeply buried. + +If the compulsion was a big one, and went back far into childhood, +Gloria couldn't do anything directly about it. Sometimes it was possible +to work around, and, of course, you did that when you could. The +important thing was society, but you salvaged the individual wherever +possible. + +Where it wasn't possible-- + +Well, here's a man who has a compulsion to get drunk. And, when drunk, +he's got to pick fights. Maybe he hasn't killed anybody in a fight +yet--but some day he will. He's got the strength and, under the +influence of sufficient alcohol, he's got no inhibitions about using it. + +None. + +You can let the man live, and by doing that kill an unknown number of +other people. At the least, keeping your hands and your mind off the +compulsive drinker-fighter will serve to injure others--how many others, +and how badly, you can't tell. + +There are times when you've got to take an individual life in your +hands. + +And yet, because you can't always be sure-- + +Gloria's "talents" could kill out of hand, she was sure. But she didn't +use them that way. Instead, she simply projected a new compulsion into +the mind of her subject. + +The next time he got drunk and wanted to start a fight, he wanted to do +something else, too. + +For instance: walk along the edges of roofs. + +The original compulsion had been added to, and turned into a compulsion +toward suicide; that was what it amounted to. + +Gloria didn't like doing it, and she was always glad when it wasn't +necessary. But there was a dark side to everything--even, she thought, +helping people. + +She told herself grimly that it had to be done. + +And then she returned to her work. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Wladek pounded on the door of the gypsy's store a few minutes +before four. Her face was white and her lips set in a thin line; she +breathed with difficulty and with every move she made she could feel her +old bones creak. + +It was a shame what was being done to an old woman. + +But did they care? Did any of them care? + +Mrs. Wladek gave a little snort that was half laughter and half +self-pity. She pounded on the door again and dropped her arm, feeling +old and tired and nearly helpless. + +But she had to fight on. + +There was a limit to what an old woman could be expected to stand. They +would learn, all of them, what-- + +The door opened. + +Marya Proderenska said: "Yes? You are early." + +"I am in a hurry. Terrible things have occurred." + +The gypsy woman sighed and stepped aside. "Come in, then," she said, and +Mrs. Wladek entered slowly, peering round the front room. + +"Come in the back," the gypsy woman said. "I have been preparing to help +you. But more is required." + +It was Mrs. Wladek's turn to sigh. She reached into her purse and found +a fifty-cent piece, which she handed over very slowly. + +"More is required," the gypsy woman said, looking at the coin in her +hand as if, Mrs. Wladek thought, it was less than a penny. Did not the +woman realize that fifty cents was a great deal of money for a poor old +woman? + +No one had any pity any more. + +She handed over another fifty cents and the gypsy woman nodded sadly, +pocketed the money and led the way to the back room. + +"You will help me now?" Mrs. Wladek said. + +"I will try." + +The room was silent as the gypsy woman brought all her knowledge and +experience into play. Finally she looked at Mrs. Wladek and said: "A +very powerful curse has been put upon you. I can't help you." + +"The Church will help me!" Mrs. Wladek screamed. "They have the power to +exorcise--" + +"Do not speak to me of churches," the gypsy woman shouted. + +Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "You, who steal my money, who steal the +bread from my old mouth without pity--" + +"A woman must live," Marya Proderenska said, with great dignity. + + * * * * * + +The housekeeper had said Father Seador was at supper. This did not make +a difference. Mrs. Wladek's problem was certainly serious enough to +interfere with any man's supper. Father Seador was overweight in any +case; should he miss the entire meal it would not do him any harm. Marie +Wladek had a problem, and a serious one; let him miss his supper. It was +his job to help people. + +But Father Seador would certainly not be in the best of moods. + +He was not. + +He arrived with his face set in firm lines of disapproval. Mrs. Wladek +got up from her chair and curtsied toward him, being very careful of her +old bones. He nodded. + +"Rudi in trouble again?" he said at once, taking a chair. + +Mrs. Wladek sat herself down slowly. When she was settled, she looked +over at the middle-aged man. "Rudi has a job." + +"A job? A job?" Father Seador blinked. "That's fine. That's certainly +good news." + +"So you think," Mrs. Wladek said crisply. + +"Well, of course it's good news," Father Seador said. +"Responsibility ... steady income ... Mrs. Wladek, I'm sure this has +made you very happy, but if you'll pardon me." Father Seador stood up. +"I'm in the middle of--" + +"Wait," Mrs. Wladek said. "This is not what I have come to talk to you +about. It is _why_ he has taken a job. It is _why_ I will be taking a +job." + +"You?" Father Seador seemed incapable of speech. "Well, I--" + +"I am bewitched," Mrs. Wladek said. "A curse is upon me." + +"A curse? Well--" Father Seador stopped and cleared his throat. He sat +down again. He blinked. At last he said: "What's wrong, Mrs. Wladek?" + +"I have told you," she said. "A curse. A curse. I want you to exorcise +this witch that has put on me a hex." + +"Exorcise? Curse?" Father Seador coughed. "I'm sure you must be +mistaken, or--" + +"Mistaken? I am not mistaken. I tell you there is a curse upon me." + +The parlor was very quiet for a long time. At last Father Seador said: +"If you really believe you've been hexed, you'd better give me all the +details. When did you feel this ... this curse put upon you?" + +"This morning," Mrs. Wladek said. + +"And what kind of curse is this? I mean, what effect has it had?" + +Mrs. Wladek's voice was as hard as iron. "It has made my son take a job. +It has made me want to look for a job. In time, I will not be able to +fight the curse, and I will take a job. And then--" + +"I don't see anything wrong about that," Father Seador said mildly. + +"You see nothing wrong in a poor old woman being forced to work? In a +boy forced to grind out his youth among package-wrappers? You see +nothing wrong in this?" + +"Well, I ... we all have to work." + +"Here?" Mrs. Wladek said with astonishment. "Here in America, you +believe that? It is not so. My own uncle Bedrich has told me years ago +it is not so. Do you dispute the word of my own uncle Bedrich?" + +"My good woman," said Father Seador, "look around you ... your friends, +your neighbors--" + +"Let us say no more about it," Mrs. Wladek interrupted. "There is a +curse upon me and I have called on you to remove this curse." + +"How do you know this is a curse? Our minds do change, you know, and +they do strange things--" + +"I have been told," Mrs. Wladek said. + +"You've been told? By whom?" + +Mrs. Wladek drew herself up in the chair. "By Marya Proderenska, the +gypsy fortune teller. She knows that--" + +"A gypsy? You consulted a fortune teller?" + +"I did." + +"Mrs. Wladek, do you know what you are saying ... what you have done? +Don't you realize you have committed a sin against--" + +But he was speaking to empty air. Marie Wladek was gone. + + * * * * * + +Gloria looked up at the little clock and sighed briefly. Five o'clock. +Another day gone already. + +It was a shame, in a way, that time passed so quickly. Gloria didn't +feel the least bit tired. After all, she had spent the day in helping +people, and that was what made life worthwhile. + +But it was quitting time. Staying late would give her the reputation of +an eager beaver, and that would make her unpopular. Not that she cared +for popularity for its own sake--certainly not!--but you couldn't do +your best work unless the others in your office were willing to help +you. + +Leaving on time was a simple sacrifice to make for them. + +She pulled open the desk drawer and got her beret. Then, as she was +putting it on, she remembered. + +In the other drawer were the clay models. + +She opened the drawer and pulled them out. She had barely reduced them +to a single amorphous lump when Mr. Fredericksohn passed her desk. + +"What's that?" he said. "Clay?" + +"A nephew of mine," Gloria said coolly. "He likes to play with clay. I +bought some and I'm taking it home." + +"Ah," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Of course. Good night." + +And he was gone. Gloria put the clay back into the drawer and reached +for her beret. + +Harold Meedy called from across the room: "Going home?" + +"That's right," she said. + +"Can I charter a bus and drop you somewhere?" + +"I'm afraid not," she said. "I've really got to get right home." + +"Listen," Harold said. He came over to her desk. "I've been trying to +get somewhere with you ever since you walked into this office. Now, +what's wrong with me? I haven't been able to get to first base. Don't +you like me?" + +"Mr. Meedy," Gloria began, "it's just that ... well, I don't believe in +inter-personal relations on that level, not in the office. I'm sorry." + +He blinked. "You really believe that, don't you?" + +"Of course I do," she said. + +"But--" He shrugged. "O.K. O.K. I just wanted to know." + +The door closed behind him. Gloria felt a little relieved. If matters +had gone on the way they'd threatened, why, she might have had to change +Harold Meedy's mind for him. Not that it would have done him any harm, +but ... well, she just didn't like doing that sort of thing for purely +personal reasons. + +She was glad she hadn't had to tamper with him at all. + +And now it was over, and she could forget about it. Humming under her +breath, she put her beret on at last, and gave the stack of folders a +pat to keep them absolutely neat, before she left the office. + +She still felt a little sad about leaving on time, when there was so +much work to be done. But tomorrow, she told herself, she would be able +to get back to helping people. Tomorrow-- + + * * * * * + +Tomorrow. + +Ten minutes to nine, and Gloria put her beret away, reached for the +first folder--and froze. + +A second later the door opened. Gloria looked up and smiled helpfully. +"Mrs. Wladek," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you? This isn't +your day for--" + +"It is not my day," Mrs. Wladek said. She closed the door behind her. +"This, I know. But I am here. Does this mean anything to you?" + +Gloria forced her face to remain expressionless. "Can I help you in any +way?" she said. "Is there anything I can do?" + +"You?" Mrs. Wladek barked. "You have done enough. I am not here to see +you. But your supervisor, your boss--him, I will see." + +"My supervisor?" Gloria looked round. "He isn't here yet." + +"He will be here later?" + +"Of course he will," Gloria said. + +Mrs. Wladek sat down in a chair next to Gloria's desk. "I will wait," +she announced. "And you should know that there is nothing you can do to +me now." She reached into her bag and brought out a small wooden cross +she had brought with her from the old country. She waved it at Gloria +wildly. + +"Do anything to you? What do you mean, Mrs. Wladek?" + +"Hah," Mrs. Wladek said. "You need not pretend with me. This frightens +you. No?" + +Gloria blinked. "I'm afraid not," she said. + +"But ... you are trying to fool me," Mrs. Wladek said. "And I will not +be fooled. I wait here for your boss, your supervisor." + +There was nothing else to do. "All right," Gloria said. + + * * * * * + +Everybody stared, of course, but none of the other workers came over to +find out why Mrs. Wladek had come in on a day that wasn't her +appointment day. With Mrs. Wladek right there, asking questions just +wasn't possible. Gloria tried to get some work done, but that wasn't +possible either, and she resigned herself at last to sitting quietly and +waiting for Mr. Fredericksohn's arrival. + +She promised herself she'd make up for the loss of time by taking a +shorter lunch hour, and that relieved her mind a little. But she did +hope Mr. Fredericksohn would be early. + +Thankfully, he was. At nine twenty-five exactly, the door opened and Mr. +Fredericksohn entered. He glanced once round the office, saw Mrs. Wladek +and went on. A second later he stopped. + +He didn't have a chance to say anything. Mrs. Wladek was at his side. "I +must see you at once," she said. "I must see you alone, at once." + +He stared at her. "Miss Scott here, I'm sure, can--" + +"It is about Miss Scott that I want to talk to you," Mrs. Wladek hissed. + +Mr. Fredericksohn glanced at Gloria. She busied herself with papers. At +last he said: "Come with me," and led Mrs. Wladek down the aisle into +his private office. The door closed. + +Ten minutes passed and the door opened. Mr. Fredericksohn's head +projected. "Miss Scott," he said. "May I see you for a minute?" + +The curiosity in the office was almost a solid pressure, but Gloria paid +it no attention. She said: "Certainly," put away the folder she had been +consulting, and went in. + +There, at the side of Mr. Fredericksohn's desk, Mrs. Wladek was sitting, +looking determined, grim and baffled all at once. Gloria stood in front +of the desk and Mr. Fredericksohn seated himself behind it, the large +open window at his back. + +"Yes, Mr. Fredericksohn?" Gloria said. + +"I have told him all," Mrs. Wladek said. "All. Everything. Total." + +"Er ... yes," Mr. Fredericksohn said. He faced Gloria resolutely. "Mrs. +Wladek has said something about a ... about a spell. Do you know what +she might be talking about? Something you said, some impression you gave +her--" + +"A spell?" Gloria shook her head. "I can't think how she got that idea," +she said calmly. + +"You do not fool him," Mrs. Wladek said. "He knows. I have told him +all." + +"Certainly," Mr. Fredericksohn murmured. "But perhaps some little +thing--" + +"My report will be ready in an hour," Gloria said. "But I'm sure there +was nothing." + +Mr. Fredericksohn coughed convulsively. "I suppose not," he said. "I +realize this is rather unpleasant for you--" + +"I quite understand," Gloria said. + +Mrs. Wladek came out of her chair in a single movement and clutched +Gloria by the left arm. "What is happening?" she demanded. + +Mr. Fredericksohn avoided her eye. "Please sit down," he said. And then, +to Gloria: "Miss Scott, if you'll make the call ... you know what I +mean?" + +"Of course," she said. + +"The--" He whispered it: "The hospital?" + +"What did you say?" Mrs. Wladek demanded. "What did you tell her?" + +Gloria disengaged herself and went to the door. As she shut it behind +her she could hear Mrs. Wladek's voice, rising to a crescendo of threats +and abuse, and Mr. Fredericksohn's calm, scholarly attempts to stem the +tide. She almost smiled. + +Then she went to her own desk and picked up the telephone. + +Actually, she told herself, matters had worked out for the best. Rudi +had a job, and would grow into a fully functioning member of society. +Mrs. Wladek would not be on the relief rolls any longer. + +And what Mrs. Wladek wanted--a place to live, and someone to take care +of her--would certainly be provided for her. + +Yes, everything had worked out for the best. And, next time, she'd be +able to handle a situation like Mrs. Wladek's with less trouble. Gloria +looked into the future--into a long series of days and weeks, helping +people, getting them to do what was best for them. Oh, sometimes they +wouldn't like it right away, but you had to expect that. What was best +for them-- + +Gloria smiled to herself quietly, and dialed a number. + +On the second ring, a voice said: "Bellevue Admitting." + +"We'd appreciate your sending an ambulance and attendants right away," +Gloria said. "For the psychiatric wards." + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Hex, by Laurence Mark Janifer (AKA Larry M. 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