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diff --git a/26936-h/26936-h.htm b/26936-h/26936-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e05228a --- /dev/null +++ b/26936-h/26936-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1904 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Gallery, by Rog Phillips + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: left; font-weight: normal;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .p2,.figr {text-align: center;} + .figr {float: right; clear: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 1em; padding: 0; width: 363px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .bk1 {float: right; width: 13em; padding: 2em 0 2em 2em; border-left: solid 2px;} + .p1,.cap,.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gallery, by Roger Phillips Graham + +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: The Gallery + +Author: Roger Phillips Graham + +Illustrator: Llewellyn + +Release Date: October 16, 2008 [EBook #26936] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GALLERY *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><p><b><i><big>Aunt Matilda needed him +desperately, but when he +arrived she did not want +him and neither did anyone +else in his home town.</big></i></b></p></div> + +<h1><big><b>THE<br /> +GALLERY</b></big></h1> + +<h2>By ROG PHILLIPS</h2> + +<p class="p1">ILLUSTRATOR LLEWELLYN</p> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">I was</span> in the midst of the +fourth draft of my doctorate +thesis when Aunt Matilda's telegram +came. It could not have +come at a worse time. The deadline +for my thesis was four days +away and there was a minimum +of five days of hard work to do +on it yet. I was working around +the clock.</p> + +<p>If it had been a telegram informing +me of her death I could +not have taken time out to attend +the funeral. If it had been +a telegram saying she was at +death's door I'm very much +afraid I would have had to call +the hospital and order them to +keep her alive a few days longer.</p> + +<p>Instead, it was a tersely +worded appeal. ARTHUR STOP +COME AT ONCE STOP AM IN +TERRIBLE TROUBLE STOP +DO NOT PHONE STOP AUNT +MATILDA.</p> + +<p>So there was nothing else for +me to do. I laid the telegram +aside and kept on working on +my thesis. That is not as heartless +as it might seem. I simply +could not imagine Aunt Matilda +in terrible trouble. The end of +the world I could imagine, but +not Aunt Matilda in trouble.</p> + +<div class="figr"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="363" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +<b><small>Wherever he went Arthur felt the power behind the lens.</small></b></div> + +<p>She was the classic flat-chested +ageless spinster living alone +in the midst of her dustless +bric-a-brac and Spode in +a frame house of the same vintage +as herself at the edge of +the classic small town of Sumac, +near the southwest corner of +Wisconsin. I had visited her for +two days over a year ago, and +she had looked exactly the same +as she had when I stayed with +her when I was six all summer, +and there was no question but +what she would some day attend +my funeral when I died of old +age, and she would still look the +same as always.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There was no conceivable +trouble of terrestrial origin that +could touch her—or would want +to. And, as it turned out, I was +right in that respect.</p> + +<p>I was right in another respect +too. By finishing my thesis I became +a Ph.D. on schedule, and if +I had abandoned all that and +rushed to Sumac the moment I +received the telegram it could +not have materially altered the +outcome of things. And Aunt +Matilda, hanging on the wall of +my study, knitting things for +the Red Cross, will attest to +that.</p> + +<p>You, of course, might argue +about her being there. You +might even insist that I am +hanging on her wall instead. +And I would have to agree with +you, since it all depends on the +point of view and as I sit here +typing I can look up and see myself +hanging on her wall.</p> + +<p>But perhaps I had better begin +at the beginning when, with +my thesis behind me, I arrived +on the 4:15 milk run, as they +call the train that stops on its +way past Sumac.</p> + +<p>I was in a very disturbed +state of mind, as anyone who +has ever turned in a doctorate +thesis can well imagine. For the +life of me I couldn't be sure +whether I had used <i>symbol</i> or +<i>token</i> on line 7, sheet 23, of my +thesis, and it was a bad habit +of mine to unconsciously interchange +them unpredictably, and +I knew that Dr. Walters could +very well vote against acceptance +of my thesis on that ground +alone. Also, I had thought of a +much better opening sentence to +my thesis, and was having to use +will power to keep from rushing +back to the university to ask +permission to change it.</p> + +<p>I had practically no sleep during +the fourteen-hour run, and +what sleep I did have had been +interrupted by violent starts of +awaking with a conviction that +this or that error in the initial +draft of my thesis had not been +corrected by the final draft. And +then, of course, I would have to +think the thing through and recall +when I had made the correction, +before I could go back to +sleep.</p> + +<p>So I was a wreck, mentally, if +not physically, when I stepped +off the train onto the wooden depot +platform that had certainly +been built in the Pleistocene +Era, with my oxblood two-suiter +firmly clutched in my left hand.</p> + +<p>With snorts of steam and the +loud clanking of loose drives, +the train got under way again, +its whistle wailing mournfully +as the last empty coach car sped +past me and retreated into the +distance.</p> + +<p>As I stood there, my brain +tingling with weariness, and +listened to the absolute silence +of the town triumph over the +last distant wail of the train +whistle, I became aware that +something about Sumac was +different.</p> + +<p>What it was, I didn't know. I +stood where I was a moment +longer, trying to analyze it. In +some indefinable way everything +looked unreal. That was as close +as I could come to it, and of +course having pinned it down +that far I at once dismissed it +as a trick of the mind produced +by tiredness.</p> + +<p>I began walking. The planks +of the platform were certainly +real enough. I circled the depot +without going in, and started +walking in the direction of Aunt +Matilda's, which was only a +short eight blocks from the depot, +as I had known since I was +six.</p> + +<p>The feeling of the unreality +of my surroundings persisted, +and with it came another feeling, +of an invisible pressure +against me. Almost a resentment. +Not only from the people, +but from the houses and even +the trees.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Slowly I began to realize that +it couldn't be entirely my imagination. +Most of the dozen or so +people I passed knew me, and I +remembered suddenly that every +other time I had come to Aunt +Matilda's they had stopped to +talk with me and I had had to +make some excuse to escape +them. Now they were behaving +differently. They would look at +me absently as they might at +any stranger walking from the +direction of the depot, then their +eyes would light up with recognition +and they would open +their lips to greet me with +hearty welcome.</p> + +<p>Then, as though they just +thought of something, they +would change, and just say, +"Hello, Arthur," and continue +on past me.</p> + +<p>It didn't take me long to conclude +that this strange behavior +was probably caused by something +in connection with Aunt +Matilda. Had she perhaps been +named as corespondent in the +divorce of the local minister? +Had she, of all people, had a +child out of wedlock?</p> + +<p>Things in a small town can be +deadly serious, so by the time +her familiar frame house came +into view down the street I was +ready to keep a straight face, no +matter what, and reserve my +chuckles for the privacy of her +guest room. It would be a new +experience, to find Aunt Matilda +guilty of any human frailty. It +was slightly impossible, but I +had prepared myself for it.</p> + +<p>And that first day her behavior +convinced me I was right +in my conclusion.</p> + +<p>She appeared in the doorway +as I came up the front walk. She +was breathing hard, as though +she had been running, and there +was a dust streak on the side of +her thin face.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Arthur," she said +when I came up on the porch. +She shook my hand as limply as +always, and gave me a reluctant +duty peck on the cheek, then +backed into the house to give me +room to enter.</p> + +<p>I glanced around the familiar +surroundings, waiting for her to +blurt out the cause of her telegram, +and feeling a little guilty +about not having come at once.</p> + +<p>I felt the loneliness inside her +more than I ever had before. +There was a terror way back in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You look tired, Arthur," she +said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, glad of the opportunity +she had given me to +explain. "I had to finish my +thesis and get it in by last night. +Two solid years of hard work +and it had to be done or the +whole thing was for nothing. +That's why I couldn't come four +days ago. And you seemed quite +insistent that I shouldn't call." +I smiled to let her know that I +remembered about party lines in +a small town.</p> + +<p>"It's just as well," she said. +And while I was trying to decide +what the antecedent of her +remark was she said, "You can +go back on the morning train."</p> + +<p>"You mean the trouble is +over?" I said, relieved.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. But she had +hesitated.</p> + +<p>It was the first time I had +ever seen her tell a lie.</p> + +<p>"You must be hungry," she +rushed on. "Put your suitcase +in the room and wash up." She +turned her back to me and hurried +into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>I was hungry. The memory of +her homey cooking did it. I +glanced around the front room. +Nothing had changed, I thought. +Then I noticed the framed +portrait of my father and his +three brothers was hanging +where the large print of a basket +of fruit used to hang. The +basket of fruit picture was +where the portrait should have +been, and it was entirely too big +a picture for that spot. I would +never have thought Aunt Matilda +could tolerate anything out of +proportion. And the darker area +of wallpaper where the fruit picture +had prevented fading stood +out like a sore thumb.</p> + +<p>I looked around the room for +other changes. The boat picture +that had hung to the right of +the front door was not there. +On the floor under where it +should have been I caught the +flash of light from a shard of +glass. Next to it, the drape +framing the window was not +hanging right.</p> + +<p>On impulse I went over and +peeked behind the drape. There, +leaning against the wall, was +the boat picture with fragments +of splintered glass still in it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From the evidence it appeared +that Aunt Matilda had either +been trying to hang the picture +where it belonged, or taking it +down, and it had slipped out of +her hands and fallen, and she +had hidden it behind the drape +and hastily swept up the broken +glass.</p> + +<p>But why? Even granting that +Aunt Matilda might behave in +such an erratic fashion (which +was obvious from the evidence), +I couldn't imagine a sensible +reason.</p> + +<p>It occurred to me, facetiously, +that she might have gone in for +pictures of musclemen, and, seeing +me coming up the street, she +had rushed them into hiding and +brought out the old pictures.</p> + +<p>That could account for the +evidence—except for one thing. +I hadn't dallied. She could not +possibly have seen me earlier +than sixty seconds before I came +up the front walk.</p> + +<p>Still, the telegrapher at the +depot could have called her and +told her I was here when he saw +me get off the train.</p> + +<p>I shrugged the matter off and +went to the guest room. It too +was the same as always, except +for one thing. A picture.</p> + +<p>It was a color photograph of +the church, taken from the +street. The picture was in a +frame, but without glass over it, +and was about eighteen inches +wide and thirty high.</p> + +<p>It was a very good picture. +Very lifelike. There was a car +parked at the curb in front of +the church, and someone inside +the car smoking a cigarette, and +it was so real I would have +sworn I could see the streamer +of smoke rising from the cigarette +moving.</p> + +<p>The odor of good food came +from the kitchen, reminding me +to get busy. I opened my two-suiter +and took out my toilet kit +and went to the bathroom.</p> + +<p>I shaved, brushed my teeth, +and combed my hair. Afterward +I popped into my room just for +a second to put my toilet kit on +the dresser, and hurried to the +dining room.</p> + +<p>Something nagged at the back +of my mind all the time I was +eating. After dinner Aunt Matilda +suggested I'd better get +some sleep. I couldn't argue. I +was already asleep on my feet. +Her fried chicken and creamed +gravy and mashed potatoes had +been an opiate.</p> + +<p>I didn't even bother to hang +up my clothes. I slipped into the +heaven of comfort of the bed +and closed my eyes. And the +next minute it was morning.</p> + +<p>Getting out of bed, I stopped +in mid motion. The picture of +the church was no longer on the +wall. And as I stared at the +blank spot where it had been, +the thing that had nagged me +during dinner last night finally +leaped into consciousness.</p> + +<p>When I had dashed into the +room and out again last night +on the way to the dining room +I had glanced briefly at the picture +and something had been +different about it. Now I knew +what had been different.</p> + +<p>The car had no longer been in +front of the church.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I lit a cigarette and sat on the +edge of the bed. I thought about +that picture, and simply could +not bring myself to believe the +accuracy of that fleeting impression.</p> + +<p>Aunt Matilda had slipped +into my room and removed the +picture while I slept. That was +obvious. Why had she done +that? The fleeting impression +that I couldn't be positive about +would give her a sensible +reason.</p> + +<p>I studied my memory of that +picture as I had closely studied +it. It had been a remarkable picture. +The more I recalled its +details the more remarkable it +became. I couldn't remember any +surface gloss or graining to it, +but of course I had not been +looking for such things. Only an +expert photographer would notice +or recognize such technical +details.</p> + +<p>My thoughts turned in the +direction of Aunt Matilda—and +her telegram. Her source of income, +I knew, was her part of +the estate of my grandfather, +and amounted to something like +thirty thousand dollars. I knew +that she was terrified of touching +one cent of the capital, and +lived well within the income +from good sound stocks.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I took her telegram out of the +pocket of my coat which was +hanging over the back of a chair. +COME AT ONCE STOP AM IN +TERRIBLE TROUBLE ... The +only kind of terrible trouble +Matilda could be in was if some +swindler talked her out of some +of her capital! And that definitely +would not be easy to do. I +grinned to myself at the recollection +of her worrying herself +sick once over what would +happen to her if there was a +revolution and the new government +refused to honor the old +government bonds.</p> + +<p>Things began to make sense. +Her telegram, then those pictures +moved around in the front +room, and the one she had forgotten +to hide, in the guest +room. If the other pictures were +anything like it, I could see how +Aunt Matilda might cash in on +part of her securities to invest +in what she thought was a sure +thing.</p> + +<p>But sure things are only as +good as the people in control of +them. Many a sure thing has +been lost to the original investors +by stupid decisions leading +to bankruptcy, and many a +seemingly sure thing has fleeced +a lot of innocent victims.</p> + +<p>Slowly, as I thought it out, I +became sure that that was what +had happened.</p> + +<p>Then why Aunt Matilda's +about-face, hiding the pictures +and telling me to go back to +Chicago? Had she threatened +whoever was behind this, and +gotten her money back? Or had +she again become convinced that +her financial venture was sound?</p> + +<p>In either case, why was she +trying to keep me from knowing +about the pictures?</p> + +<p>I made up my mind. Whether +Aunt Matilda liked it or not, I +was going to stay until I got to +the bottom of things. What Aunt +Matilda evidently didn't realize +was that no inventor who really +had something would waste time +trying to find backing in a place +like Sumac.</p> + +<p>Getting dressed, I decided +that first on the agenda would +be to find where Matilda had +hidden those pictures, and get a +good look at them.</p> + +<p>That was simpler than I expected +it to be. When I came out +of my room I stuck my head in +the kitchen doorway and said +good morning to her, and she +leaped to her feet to get some +breakfast ready for me. It was +obvious that she was anxious to +get me fed and out of the house.</p> + +<p>Then I simply took the two +steps past the bathroom door to +the door to her bedroom and +went in. The pictures were +stacked against the side of her +dresser. The one of the church +was the first one. It was on its +side.</p> + +<p>With a silent whistle of +amazement I bent down to +watch it. The car was not parked +at the curb in it, but there +were several children walking +along, obviously on their way to +school. And they were walking. +Moving.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I picked up the picture. It was +as heavy as it should be, but not +more. A faint whisper of sound +seemed to come from it. I put +my ear closer and heard children's +voices. I explored with my +ear close to the surface, and +found that the voices were loudest +when my ear was closest to +the one talking, as though the +voices came out of the picture +directly from the images!</p> + +<p>All it needed to be perfect was +a volume control somewhere. I +searched, and found it behind +the upper right corner of the +picture. I twisted it very slowly, +and the voices became louder. I +turned it back to the position it +had been in.</p> + +<p>The next picture was of the +railroad depot. The telegrapher +and baggage clerk were going +around the side of the depot towards +the tracks. A freight +train was rushing through the +picture.</p> + +<p>Even as I watched it in the +picture, I heard the wail of a +train whistle in the distance, +and it was coming from outside, +across town. That freight train +was going through town <i>right +now</i>.</p> + +<p>I put the pictures back the +way they had been, and stole +softly from Aunt Matilda's bedroom +to the bathroom, and +closed the door.</p> + +<p>"No wonder Aunt Matilda invested +in this thing!" I said to +my image in the mirror as I +shaved.</p> + +<p>Picture TV would make all +other TV receivers obsolete! +Full color TV at that! And with +some new principle in stereophonic +sound!</p> + +<p>What about the fact that +neither picture had been plugged +into an outlet? Probably run by +batteries.</p> + +<p>What about the lack of +weight? Obviously a new TV +principle was involved. Maybe it +required fewer circuits and less +power.</p> + +<p>What about the broadcasting +end, the cameras? Permanently +set up? What about the broadcast +channels?</p> + +<p>There had been ten or twelve +pictures. I'd only looked at two. +Was each a different scene? +Twelve different broadcasting +stations in Sumac?</p> + +<p>It had me dizzy. Probably the +new TV principle was so simple +that all that could be taken care +of without millions of dollars +worth of equipment.</p> + +<p>A new respect for Aunt Matilda +grew in me. She had +latched on to a money maker! It +didn't hurt to know that I was +her favorite nephew, either. +With my Ph.D. in physics, and +my aunt as one of the stockholders, +I could probably land a +good job with the company. +What a deal!</p> + +<p>By the time I finished shaving +I was whistling. I was still +whistling when I went into the +kitchen for breakfast.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to hurry, Arthur," +Aunt Matilda said. "Your +train leaves in forty-five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I'm not leaving," I said +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>I went over to the bright +breakfast nook and sat down, +and took a cautious sip of coffee. +I grunted my approval of it +and looked around toward Aunt +Matilda, smiling.</p> + +<p>She was staring at me with +wide eyes. She looked as haggard +as though she had just +heard she had a week to live.</p> + +<p>"But you must go!" she croaked +as though my not going were +unthinkable.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, you old fox," I +said. "I know a good thing as +well as you do. I want to get a +job with that outfit."</p> + +<p>She came toward me with a +wild expression on her face.</p> + +<p>"Get out!" she screamed. "Get +out of my house! I won't have +it! You catch that train and get +out of town. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"But, Aunt Matilda!" I protested.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In the end I had to get out +or she would have had a stroke. +She was shaking like a leaf, her +skin mottled and her eyes wild, +as I went down the front steps +with my bag.</p> + +<p>"You get that train, do you +hear?" was the last thing she +screamed at me as I hurried toward +Main Street.</p> + +<p>However, I had no intention +of leaving town with Aunt Matilda +upset that way. I'd let her +have time to cool off, then come +back. Meanwhile I'd try to get +to the bottom of things. A thing +as big as wall TV in full color +and stereophonic sound must be +the talk of the town. I'd find out +where they had their office and +go talk with them. A career with +something like that would be the +best thing I could ever hope to +find. And getting in on the +ground floor!</p> + +<p>It surprised me that Aunt Matilda +could be so insanely greedy. +I shook my head in wonder. It +didn't figure.</p> + +<p>I had breakfast at the hotel +cafe and made a point of telling +the waitress, who knew me, that +it was my second breakfast, and +that I had intended to catch the +morning train back to Chicago, +but maybe I wouldn't.</p> + +<p>After I finished eating I asked +if it would be okay to leave +my suitcase behind the counter +while I looked around a bit. She +showed me where to put it so it +would be out of the way.</p> + +<p>When I paid for my breakfast +I half turned away, then turned +back casually.</p> + +<p>"Oh, by the way," I said. +"Where's this wall TV place?"</p> + +<p>"This what?" she said.</p> + +<p>"You know," I said. "Color TV +like a picture you hang on a +wall."</p> + +<p>All the color faded from her +face. Her eyes went past me, +staring. I turned in the direction +she was staring, and on the wall +above the plateglass front of the +cafe was a picture.</p> + +<p>That is, there was a picture +frame and a pair of dark glasses +that took up most of the picture, +with the lower part of a forehead +and the upper part of a +nose. I had noticed it once while +I was eating and had assumed +it was a display ad for sun +glasses. Now I looked at it more +closely, but could detect no +movement in it. It still looked +like an ad for sun glasses.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you're +talking about," I heard the +waitress say, her voice edged +with fear.</p> + +<p>"Huh?" I said, turning my +head back to look at her. "Oh. +Well, never mind."</p> + +<p>I left the cafe with every outward +appearance of casual innocence; +but inside I was beginning +to realize for the first time +the possibilities and the danger +that could lie in the use of this +new TV development.</p> + +<p>That had been a Big-Brother-is-Watching-you +setup back +there in the cafe, except that it +had been a girl instead of a man, +judging from the style of sun +glasses and the smoothness of +the nose and forehead.</p> + +<p>I had wondered about the +broadcasting end of things. Now +I knew. That had been the TV +"eye," and somewhere there was +a framed picture hanging on the +wall, bringing in everything that +took place in the cafe, including +everything that was said. Everything +<i>I</i> had said, too. It was an +ominous feeling.</p> + +<p>Aunt Matilda had almost had +a stroke trying to get me out +of town. Now I knew why. She +was caught in this thing and +wanted to save me. Four days +ago she had probably not fully +realized the potentiality for evil +of the invention, but by the +time I showed up she knew it.</p> + +<p>Well, she was right. This was +not something for me to tackle. +I would keep up my appearance +of not suspecting anything, and +catch that train Aunt Matilda +wanted me to catch.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From way out in the country +came the whistle of the approaching +milk run, the train +that would take me back to Chicago. +In Chicago I would go to +the F.B.I, and tell them the +whole thing. They wouldn't believe +me, of course, but they +would investigate. If the thing +hadn't spread any farther than +Sumac it would be a simple matter +to stop it.</p> + +<p>I'd hurry back to the cafe and +get my suitcase and tell the +waitress I'd decided to catch the +train after all.</p> + +<p>I turned around.</p> + +<p>Only I didn't turn around.</p> + +<p>That's as nearly as I can describe +it. I did turn around. I +know I did. But the town turned +around with me, and the sun and +the clouds and the countryside. +So maybe I only thought I +turned around.</p> + +<p>When I tried to stop walking +it was different. I simply could +not stop walking. Nothing was +in control of my mind. It was +more like stepping on the brakes +and the brakes not responding.</p> + +<p>I gave up trying, more curious +about what was happening than +alarmed. I walked two blocks +along Main Street. Ahead of me +I saw a sign. It was the only +new sign I had seen in Sumac. +In ornate Neon script it said, +"PORTRAITS by Lana."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I don't know whether my feet +took me inside independently of +my mind or not, because I was +sure that this was the place and +I wanted to go in anyway.</p> + +<p>Not much had been done to +modernize the interior of the +shop. I remembered that the last +time I had been here it had been +a stamp collector headquarters +run by Mr. Mason and his wife. +The counter was still there, but +instead of stamp displays it held +a variety of standard portraits +such as you can see in any portrait +studio. None of the TV +portraits were on display here.</p> + +<p>The same bell that used to +tinkle when I came into the +stamp store tinkled in back of +the partition when I came in. A +moment later the curtain in the +doorway of the partition parted, +and a girl came out.</p> + +<p>How can I describe her? In +appearance she was anyone of a +thousand smartly dressed brunettes +that wait on you in +quality photograph studios, and +yet she wasn't. She was as much +above that in cut as the average +smartly dressed girl is above a +female alcoholic after a ten-day +drunk. She was perfect. Too perfect. +She was the type of girl a +man would dream of meeting +some day, but if he ever did he +would run like hell because he +could never hope to live up to +such perfection.</p> + +<p>"You have come to have your +portrait taken?" she asked. "I +am Lana."</p> + +<p>"I thought you already had +my portrait," I said. "Didn't you +get it from that eye in the hotel +cafe?"</p> + +<p>"It's not the same thing," +Lana said. "Through an eye you +remain a variable in the Mantram +complex. It takes the +camera to fix you, so that you +are an iconic invariant in the +Mantram." She smiled and half +turned toward the curtain she +had come through. "Would you +step this way, please?" she invited.</p> + +<p>"How much will it cost?" I +said, not moving.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, of course!" Lana +said. "Terrestrial money is of +no use to me since you have +nothing I would care to buy. +And don't be alarmed. No harm +will come to you, or anyone +else." A fleeting expression of +concern came over her. "I realize +that many of the people of +Sumac are quite alarmed, but +that is to be expected of a people +uneducated enough to still +be superstitious."</p> + +<p>I went past her through the +curtain. Behind the partition I +expected to see out-of-this-world +scientific equipment stacked to +the ceiling. Instead, there was +only a portrait camera on a tripod. +It had a long bellows and +would take a plate the same size +as that picture of the church I +had seen.</p> + +<p>"You see?" Lana said. "It's +just a camera." She smiled disarmingly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I went toward it casually, and +suddenly I stopped as though another +mind controlled my actions. +When I gave up the idea +I had had of smashing the +camera, the control vanished.</p> + +<p>There was no lens in the lens +frame. "Where's the lens?" I +said.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't use a glass lens," +Lana said. "When I take the picture +a lens forms just long +enough to focus the elements of +your body into a Mantram fix." +She touched my shoulder. +"Would you sit down over there, +please?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by a +Mantram fix?" I asked her.</p> + +<p>She paused by the camera and +smiled at me. "I use your language," +she said. "In some of +your legends you have the notion +of a Mantram, or what you +consider magical spell. In one +aspect the notion is of magical +words that can manipulate natural +forces directly. The notion +of a devil doll is a little closer. +Only instead of actual substance +from the subject—hair, fingernail +parings, and so on—the +Mantram matrix takes the detailed +force pattern of the subject, +through the lens when it +forms. So, in your concepts, +what results is an iconic Mantram. +But it operates both ways. +You'll see what I mean by that."</p> + +<p>With another placating smile +she stepped behind the camera +and without warning light seemed +to explode from the very air +around me, without any source. +For a brief second I seemed to +see—not a glittering lens—but +a black bottomless hole form in +the metal circle at the front of +the camera. And—an experience +I am familiar with now—I seemed +to rush into the bottomless +darkness of that hole and back +again, at the rate of thousands +of times a second, arriving at +some formless destination and +each time feeling it take on more +of form.</p> + +<p>"There. That wasn't so bad, +was it?" Lana said.</p> + +<p>I felt strangely detached, as +though I were in two places at +the same time. I told her so.</p> + +<p>"You'll get used to it," she +assured me. "In fact, you will +get to enjoy it. <i>I</i> do. Especially +when I've made several prints."</p> + +<p>"Why are you doing this?" I +asked. "Who are you? <i>What</i> are +you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm a photographer!" Lana +said. "I'm connected with the +natural history museum of the +planet I live on. I go to various +places and take pictures, and +they go into exhibits for the +people to watch."</p> + +<p>She pulled the curtain aside +for me to leave.</p> + +<p>"You're going to let me +leave? Just like that?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Of course." She smiled +again. "You're free to go +wherever you wish, to your +aunt's or back to Chicago. I was +glad to get your portrait. In return, +I'll send you one of the +prints. And would you like one +of your aunt's? Actually, when +she came in to have her picture +taken it was for the purpose of +sending it to you. She was my +first customer. I've taken a special +liking to her and given her +several pictures."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said. "I would like +one of Aunt Matilda."</p> + +<p>When I emerged from the +shop I discovered to my surprise +that the train was just +pulling into the depot. An urge +to get far away from Sumac possessed +me. I trotted to the cafe +to get my bag, and when the +train pulled out I was on it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There's little more to tell. In +Chicago once again, I spent a +most exasperating two days trying +to inform the F.B.I., the police, +or anyone who would listen +to me. My fingers couldn't dial +the correct phone number, and +at the crucial moment each time +I grew tongue-tied. My last attempt +was a letter to the F.B.I., +which I couldn't remember to +mail, and when I finally did remember +I couldn't find it.</p> + +<p>Then the express package +from Sumac came. With fingers +that visibly trembled I took out +the two framed pictures, one of +Aunt Matilda in the process of +dusting the front room. All of +her pictures that she had hidden +from me were back in their +places on the walls. While I +watched her move about, she +went into the sewing room, and +there I saw a picture on the wall +that looked familiar.</p> + +<p>It was of me, an opened express +package at my feet, a +framed picture held in my +hands, and I was staring at it +intently.</p> + +<p>In the picture I was holding, +Aunt Matilda looked in my direction +and waved, smiling in +the prim way she smiles when +she is contented. I understood. +She had me with her now.</p> + +<p>I laid the picture down carefully, +and took the second one +out of the box.</p> + +<p>It was not a picture at all, it +was a mirror!</p> + +<p>It couldn't be anything except +a mirror. And yet, suddenly, I +realized it wasn't. The uncanny +feeling came over me that I had +transposed into the mirror and +was looking out at myself. Even +as I got that feeling I shifted +and was outside the mirror looking +at my image.</p> + +<p>I found that I could be in +either place by a sort of mental +shift, something like staring at +one of the geometrical optical +illusions you can find in any psychology +textbook in the chapter +on illusions, and seeing it become +something else.</p> + +<p>It was strange at first, then +it became fun, and now, as I +write this, it is a normal thing. +My portrait is where it should +be—on the medicine cabinet in +the bathroom, where the mirror +used to be.</p> + +<p>But I can transpose to any of +the copies of my portrait, anywhere. +To Aunt Matilda's sewing +room, or to the museum, or to +Lana's private collection. The +only thing is, it's almost impossible +to tell when I shift, or +where I shift to. It just seems to +happen.</p> + +<p>The reason for that is that +my surroundings, no matter in +what direction I look, are +exactly identical with my real +surroundings. My physical surroundings +are duplicated exactly +in all my portraits, just as Aunt +Matilda's are in the portrait of +her that hangs on my study wall. +She is the invariant of each of +her iconic Mantrams and her +surroundings are the variables +that enter and leave the screen. +I am the invariant in my own +portraits, wherever they are. So, +except for the slight <i>twist</i> in my +mind that takes place when I +<i>shift</i>, that I have learned to +recognize from practice in front +of my "mirror" each morning +when I shave, and except for the +portrait of Aunt Matilda, I +would never be able to suspect +what happens.</p> + +<p>If Lana had taken my picture +without my knowing it and I +had never seen one of her collection +of portraits, nor ever +heard of an iconic Mantram, I +would have absolutely nothing to +go on to suspect the truth that I +know. Except for one thing.</p> + +<p>I don't quite know how to explain +it, except that I must actually +transfer to one of my +portraits, and, transferring, I +am more real than—what shall +I call it?—the photographic reproduction +of my real surroundings. +Then, sometimes, the +photographic reproduction, the +iconic illusion, that is my environment +when I am <i>in</i> one of +the portraits of me, fades just +enough so that I can look "out" +into the reality where my portrait +hangs, and see, and even +hear the <i>watchers</i>, as ghosts in +my solid "reality."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Quite often I can only hear +them, and then they are voices +out of nowhere, sometimes addressing +me directly, just as +often talking to one another and +ignoring my <i>presence</i>. But when +I can see them too, they appear +as ghostly but sharply clear visions +that seem to be present +in my solid-looking environment. +There, but somewhat transparent.</p> + +<p>I have often seen and talked +to Lana in this manner, in her +far-off world, where I am part +of her private collection. In fact, +I can almost always tell when I +<i>shift</i> to my portrait in her gallery, +because I am suddenly +exhilarated and remain so until +I shift back, or to some other +portrait. That is so even when +she is not there but out on one +of her many photographic expeditions.</p> + +<p>When she is there, and is +watching me, and my thoughts +are quiet and my mind receptive, +she becomes visible. A +ghost in my study, or the lab +where I work, or—if I am +asleep—in my dreams. Like an +angel, or a goddess. And we +talk.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Back in the physical reality, +of course, no one else can hear +her voice. My real body is going +through its routine work almost +automatically but my mind, my +consciousness, is focused into my +portrait in Lana's gallery, and +we are talking. And of course in +the real world I am talking too, +but my associates can't see who +I'm talking to, and it would be +useless to try to explain to them.</p> + +<p>So I'm getting quite a reputation +as a nut! Can you imagine +that?</p> + +<p>But why should I mind? My +reality has a much broader and +more complex scope than the +limited reality of my associates. +I might be fired, or even sent to +a state hospital, except for the +fact that Lana foresees such +problems and teaches me enough +things in my field that are unknown +to Earth, so that my employers +consider me too valuable +to lose.</p> + +<p>If this story were fiction the +ending would have to be that I +am in love with Lana and she +with me, and there would be a +nice conclusive ending where she +comes back to Earth to marry +me and carry me back to her +world, where we would live happily +ever after. But the truth of +the matter is that I'm not in +love with Lana, nor she with me. +Sometimes I think I am her favorite +portrait, but nothing +more.</p> + +<p>But really, everything is so +interesting. Lana's gallery +where I hang, the museum +where there are new faces each +time I look out, and new voices +when I can't see out, Aunt Matilda's +sewing room where she +is at the moment, and all Sumac +as she goes about her normal +pattern of living.</p> + +<p>It is a rich, full life that I +live, shifting here and there in +consciousness while my physical +body goes about its necessary +tasks, as often unguided as not. +(What a reputation I'm getting +for absent-mindedness, too!)</p> + +<p>And out of it all has come a +perspective that, when I feel it +strongly, makes me feel almost +like a god. In that perspective +all my portraits (and there are +many now, on many worlds and +in many places on this world!) +blend into one. That one is the +stage of my life. But not a stage, +really. A show window. Yes, that +is it. A show window, where the +<i>watchers</i> pass.</p> + +<p>I live in a show window that +opens out in many worlds and +many places that are hidden +from me by a veil that sometimes +grows thin, so I can see +through it. And from the other +side of that veil, even when I +cannot see through it, come the +voices of the watchers, as they +pass by, or pause to look at me.</p> + +<p>And I am not the only one! +There are others. More and +more of them, as Lana comes +back on her photographic expeditions +for the museum.</p> + +<p>None that I have met understand +what it is about as fully +as I do. Some have an insight +into the true state of things, but +very very few.</p> + +<p>But that is understandable. +Lana can't give the same time +to them that she gives to me. +There aren't that many hours in +a day! And, you see, I am her +favorite.</p> + +<p>If I were not, she would never +have permitted me to tell you all +this, so I must be her favorite!</p> + +<p>Doesn't that make sense?</p> + +<p>I <i>AM</i> her favorite!</p> + +<p class="p2"><b>THE END</b></p> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Stories</i> January 1959. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gallery, by Roger Phillips Graham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GALLERY *** + +***** This file should be named 26936-h.htm or 26936-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/3/26936/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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