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+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of What Rough Beast?, by JEFFERSON HIGHE.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of What Rough Beast?, by Jefferson Highe
+
+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: What Rough Beast?
+
+Author: Jefferson Highe
+
+Illustrator: Dick Francis
+
+Release Date: April 13, 2010 [EBook #31975]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT ROUGH BEAST? ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+<h1>What Rough Beast?</h1>
+
+<h2>By JEFFERSON HIGHE</h2>
+
+<h3>Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS</h3>
+
+
+<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction
+July 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/title.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>When you are a teacher, you expect kids to play pranks. But
+with tigers&mdash;and worse?</i></div>
+
+
+<p>Standing braced&mdash;or, as it seemed to him, crucified&mdash;against the length
+of the blackboard, John Ward tried to calculate his chances of heading
+off the impending riot. It didn't seem likely that anything he could do
+would stop it.</p>
+
+<p>"Say something," he told himself. "Continue the lecture, <i>talk</i>!" But
+against the background of hysterical voices from the school yard,
+against the brass fear in his mouth, he was dumb. He looked at the bank
+of boys' faces in front of him. They seemed to him now as identical as
+metal stampings, each one completely deadpan, each pair of jaws moving
+in a single rhythm, like a mechanical herd. He could feel the tension in
+them, and he knew that, in a moment, they would begin to move. He felt
+shame and humiliation that he had failed.</p>
+
+<p>"Shakespeare," he said clearly, holding his voice steady, "for those of
+you who have never heard of him, was the greatest of all dramatists.
+Greater even," he went on doggedly, knowing that they might take it as a
+provocation, "than the writers for the Spellcasts." He stopped talking
+abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>Three tigers stepped out of the ceiling. Their eyes were glassy,
+absolutely rigid, as if, like the last of the hairy mammoths, they had
+been frozen a long age in some glacial crevasse. They hung there a
+moment and then fell into the room like a furry waterfall. They landed
+snarling.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p>Something smashed viciously into the wall beside Ward's head. From the
+back of the room, someone's hand flashed a glitter of light. Ward leaped
+away and cut across the end of the room toward the escape chute. Holding
+his ring with its identifying light beam before him, he leaped into the
+slot like a racing driver. Behind him, the room exploded in shouts and
+snarls. The gate on the chute slammed shut after him, and he heard them
+scratching and banging at it. Without the identifying light, they would
+be unable to get through. He took a long breath of relief as he shot
+down the polished groove of the slide into the Mob Quad. The boys he'd
+left behind knew how to protect themselves.</p>
+
+<p>They were all there&mdash;Dr. Allenby, McCarthy the psych man, Laura Ames the
+pretty gym teacher, Foster, Jensen&mdash;all of them. So it had been general
+then, not just his group which had rioted. He knew it was all the more
+serious now, because it had not been limited to one outbreak.</p>
+
+<p>"You, too, Ward?" Dr. Allenby said sadly. He was a short, slender man
+with white hair and a white mustache. He helped Ward up from where he
+had fallen at the foot of the escape slide. "What was it in your
+classroom this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tigers," Ward said. Standing beside Allenby, he felt very tall,
+although he was only of average height. He smoothed down his wiry dark
+hair and began energetically brushing the dust from his clothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's always something," Allenby said tiredly.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed more sad than upset, Ward thought, a spent old man clinging to
+the straw of a dream. He saw where the metaphor was leading and pushed
+it aside. If Allenby were a drowning man, then Ward himself was one. He
+looked at the others.</p>
+
+<p>They were all edgy or simply frightened, but they were taking it very
+well. Some of them were stationed at the gates of the Quad, but none of
+them, as far as he could see, was armed. Except for McCarthy. The psych
+man was wearing his Star Watcher helmet and had a B-gun strapped at his
+side. Probably had a small force-field in his pocket, Ward thought,
+<i>and</i> a pair of brass knuckles.</p>
+
+<p>"So&mdash;the philosophy king got it too," McCarthy said, coming over to
+them. He was a big man, young but already florid with what Ward had
+always thought of as a roan complexion. "Love, understanding,
+sympathy&mdash;wasn't that what was supposed to work wonders? All they need
+is a copy of Robinson Crusoe and a chance to follow their natural
+instincts, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"One failure doesn't prove anything," Ward said, trying not to be angry.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>One</i> failure? How often do they have to make us hit the slides for the
+safety of the Mob Quad before you adopt a sensible theory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's not go through all that again. Restraint, Rubber hoses and
+Radiological shock&mdash;I've heard all about the 3 Rs."</p>
+
+<p>"At least they work!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, they work fine. Except that they never learn to read and they
+can't sign their names with anything but an X."</p>
+
+<p>"It was progressive education that destroyed reading," McCarthy said
+heatedly. "And they don't <i>need</i> to sign their names&mdash;that's what
+universal fingerprinting is for."</p>
+
+<p>"Please, gentlemen," Dr. Allenby interrupted gently. "This kind of
+squabbling is unbecoming to members of the faculty. Besides," he smiled
+with faded irony, "considering the circumstances, it's hardly a proper
+time."</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to the windows over the Quad where an occasional figure could
+be seen behind the glass. Lucky it was unbreakable, Ward thought,
+hearing the wild hysterical yelling from inside.</p>
+
+<p>"Mob Quad," Allenby said bitterly. "I thought I was naming it as a joke.
+The original Mob Quad was at Merton College, Oxford. One of the old
+defunct universities. <i>They</i> had a Mob Quad to shelter students and
+professors from the town mobs. Professors <i>and</i> students,
+gentlemen&mdash;they were a united front in those days. I suppose no one
+could have predicted our present circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all history," McCarthy said impatiently. "Bunk. This is <i>now</i>,
+and I say the thing to do&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We know." Allenby waved him to silence. "But your way has been tried
+long enough. How long is it since Los Angeles Day, when the U.N.
+buildings were bombed and burned by the original 3R Party in order to
+get rid of Unesco? Two hundred forty-three years next June, isn't it?
+And your Party had had all that time to get education back on what it
+calls a sane program. Now <i>nobody</i> is educated."</p>
+
+<p>"It takes time to undo the damage of progressive education," McCarthy
+said. "Besides, a lot of that junk&mdash;reading, writing&mdash;as I've often told
+Ward&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," Ward broke in. "But two and a half centuries is long
+enough. Someone must try a new tack or the country is doomed. There
+isn't much time. The Outspace invaders&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The Outspace invaders are simply Russians," McCarthy said flatly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a convenient view if you're an ostrich. Or, if you want to keep
+the Pretend War going, until the Outspacers take us over."</p>
+
+<p>McCarthy snorted contemptuously. "Ward, you damned fool&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That will be all, gentlemen," Allenby said. He did not raise his voice,
+but McCarthy was silent and Ward marveled, as he had on other occasions,
+at the authority the old man carried.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," McCarthy said after a moment, "what are you going to do about
+<i>this</i>?" He gestured toward the windows from which shouts still rang.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. Let it run its course."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can't do <i>that</i>, man!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can and I will. What do you think, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"I agree," Ward said. "They won't hurt each other&mdash;they never have yet.
+It'll wear itself out and then, tomorrow, we'll try again." He did not
+feel optimistic about how things would be the next day, but he didn't
+want to voice his fears. "The thing that worries me," he said, "are
+those tigers. Where'd they come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"What tigers?" McCarthy wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>Ward told him.</p>
+
+<p>"First it was cats," McCarthy said, "then birds ... now tigers. Either
+you're seeing things or someone's using a concealed projector."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of the projector, but these seemed real. Stunned at first&mdash;as
+if they were as surprised as I was."</p>
+
+<p>"You have a teleport in your class," Allenby said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;maybe that's the way it was done. I don't know quite what to make
+of it," Ward said. If he voiced his real suspicion now, he knew it would
+sound silly. "I know some of them can teleport. I've seen them. Small
+things, of course...."</p>
+
+<p>"Not in <i>my</i> classes," McCarthy said indignantly. "I absolutely forbid
+that sort of thing."</p>
+
+<p>"You do wrong, then," Allenby said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's unscientific!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps. But we want to encourage whatever wild talents they possess."</p>
+
+<p>"So that they can materialize tigers in&mdash;in our bedrooms, I suppose.
+Well, I've had enough. Stay here and stew if you like, but I'm going
+back to my class. I turned the hypno-gas on them before I took my dive.
+They should be nice and gentle for me by this time." He turned away
+defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I know how you feel," Allenby said when McCarthy was gone. "He's a holy
+terror, John. Shouldn't be around here. But I have to keep him, since he
+was recommended by the 3Rs and the Educational League. He gives the
+school a bit of protective coloration. Perhaps he's why they haven't
+closed us down yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;I'm not blaming you. Do you suppose we can go back to our jobs?
+It sounds as if it's wearing itself out." He gestured up at the windows.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't do anything more today."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you're probably right."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>For a moment Allenby was silent as they went toward the gate of the
+Quad. Then he said, "John, you're a good man. I don't want you to
+despair. What we're attempting&mdash;to bring education back into our
+culture&mdash;is a good and noble cause. And you can't really blame the
+kids." He nodded up at the walls. "They've just had too many Spellcasts,
+too many scares in the Pretend War&mdash;they can't believe in any future and
+they don't know anything about their past. Don't blame them."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir&mdash;I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Just do our best," Allenby said. "Try to teach them the forgotten
+things. Then, in their turn, in the next generation...."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we have to believe that. But, Dr. Allenby, we could go a lot
+faster if we were to screen them. If they were all like young Tomkins,
+we'd be doing very well. But as long as we have people like young Cress
+or Hodge or Rottke&mdash;well, it's hard to do anything with them. They go
+straight from school into their fathers' firms&mdash;after all, if you're
+guaranteed a business success in life, you don't struggle to learn. And,
+anyway, you don't need much education to be a dope salesman or a numbers
+consultant."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to have the place run only for the deserving and the
+interested," Allenby said. "But we haven't much choice. We must have
+some of these boys who are from the best families. More protective
+coloration&mdash;like McCarthy. If we were only to run the place for the
+brilliant ones, you know we'd be closed down in a week."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," Ward agreed. He wondered whether he should tell his
+suspicions to Allenby. Better not, he decided. Allenby had enough to
+think about.</p>
+
+<p>The last of the shouting had died. As Ward went out the gate of the
+Quad, he felt his heart lift a little the way it always did when he
+started for home. Out here, miles from the city, the air was clean and
+the Sun was bright on the hills, quilted now with the colors of autumn.
+There was a tang of wood smoke in the air and, in the leaves beside the
+path, he saw an apple. It was very cold and damp and there was a wild
+taste to it as he bit into the fruit. He was a tired teacher, glad to be
+going home after a hard day in the school. He hoped that no one had been
+hurt by the tigers.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>John Ward pushed the papers across his desk, reached for his pipe and
+sighed. "Well, that does it, Bobby," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at the red-headed six-year-old boy sitting in the too-big
+chair across from him. Bobby was a small boy with a freckled face and
+skinned knees. He sat in the big chair with his feet sticking straight
+out in front of him and played with a slide rule.</p>
+
+<p>"I've taught you all the math I know," Ward said. "Differential,
+integral, topology, Maddow's Theory of Transfinite Domains&mdash;that's as
+far as I go. What's next?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, John. I was thinking of going in for nuclear physics,
+but...."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, but what?" Ward prompted.</p>
+
+<p>"Well...." Bobby gave him an embarrassed look. "I'm kind of tired of
+that stuff. It's easy and not very interesting. What I'd really like&mdash;"
+He broke off and began fiddling with the slide rule again.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Bobby, what would you like?"</p>
+
+<p>"You won't be mad?"</p>
+
+<p>"No." Ward smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'd really like to try to write a poem&mdash;a real poem, I mean, not
+advertiverse&mdash;a real poem, with rhymes and everything." He paused and
+looked to see how Ward was taking it and then went on with a rush. "I
+know it's almost illegal, but I want to try. I really want to."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I dunno&mdash;I just want to. I remember that an old poet named Yeats
+said something about writing poems&mdash;the fascination with what's
+difficult. Maybe that's it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Ward said, "it's a dangerous occupation." He looked at the boy
+with wonder and pride. "Sure, Bobby, give it a try if you want to."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, thanks!" the boy said. He jumped out of the chair and started
+toward the door of the study.</p>
+
+<p>"Bobby," Ward called. "Tell me&mdash;can you teleport?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly," Bobby said. The papers on the desk in front of Ward
+suddenly fluttered into the air. They did a lazy circle of the room,
+swung into an echelon and performed a slow chandelle, before dropping
+into Bobby's hand. "I can do that stuff. But I didn't do the tigers."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a good stunt, but I wouldn't do that to you, John."</p>
+
+<p>"I know. Do you know who did?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure." Bobby didn't look at him now. "Anyway, it'd be
+snitching."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not asking you to tell."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, I'm sorry," Bobby said. "I wanted to tell you in the yard. I knew
+there was going to be a rumble, but I couldn't snitch."</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not." Ward shooed him off. "Go write your poem."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"But tigers!" Ann said. "Why tigers, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose they were convenient."</p>
+
+<p>"Tigers are never convenient."</p>
+
+<p>He crossed the room, picked up the phone and dialed. After a brief
+conversation, he turned back to her. "Well, now we know where they came
+from," he said. "The zoo. Disappeared for about half an hour. Then
+reappeared again."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care where they came from," his wife said. Her dark head was
+bent over some work in her lap. "What difference does it make whether
+they came from the zoo or from Burma? The point is, bringing them in is
+dangerous&mdash;it's hooliganism, and don't tell me that boys will be boys."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't show very mature judgment," he admitted. "But Bobby and his
+pals aren't very old."</p>
+
+<p>"Only about four hundred and eighty-five years old, according to his
+I.Q. Do you think it was Bobby?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bobby isn't the only genius we've got. There's Danny, remember, and
+William Tender&mdash;and Bobby said he couldn't teleport big stuff."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>John Ward had to confide his theory. He felt that he had to tell Ann
+everything, all the speculation and suspicion he'd carried around with
+him for so long.</p>
+
+<p>"I think we're being invaded," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Ann looked at him steadily for a moment. "You mean the Outspacers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but not in the way you're thinking. It's been reported that the
+Saucers are Russian or Argentine or Brazilian or Chinese&mdash;that's what
+we're told. But that's simply Pretend War propaganda and almost no one
+believes it any longer. Most of us think of them as Outspacers."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think they're moving in?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think they're watching&mdash;sort of&mdash;well, sort of monitoring."</p>
+
+<p>"Monitoring us? What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not us. I think they've planted children among us. I think the
+Outspacers are <i>school-teachers</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Ann got briskly to her feet. "I think," she said, "that we'll take your
+temperature and see if perhaps you shouldn't be in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait, Ann, I'm serious. I know it sounds crazy, but it isn't. Think of
+it this way&mdash;here's a race, obviously humanoid, on another star system.
+For some reason, overpopulation or whatever, they have to find room on
+another planet. Let's assume they're a highly civilized race&mdash;they'd
+have to be to have interstellar travel&mdash;so, of course, they can't simply
+take over Earth in an act of aggression. That would be repugnant to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"So they <i>seed</i> our planet with their children. These children are
+geniuses. When they grow up, they are naturally the leaders of the
+world's governments and they're in a position to allow the Outspacers to
+live with us on Earth. To live peacefully with us, whereas now, if the
+Outspacers were to try to live here, it would mean war."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think Bobby is one of these&mdash;these seedlings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe. He's unbelievingly intelligent. <i>And</i> he's a foundling."</p>
+
+<p>"What has that to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've looked up the statistics on foundlings. When the Saucers first
+began to appear, back in the 20th Century, the number of foundlings
+began to increase. Not a lot, but some. Then the Saucers disappeared for
+almost two and a half centuries and the number decreased. Now, since the
+Outspacers are once more evident, the number of foundlings has increased
+very greatly."</p>
+
+<p>"And your other geniuses? All foundlings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not all. But that doesn't mean anything&mdash;plenty of foundlings are
+adopted. And who knows which child is an adopted one?"</p>
+
+<p>Ann Ward sat down again. "You're quite serious about this, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no way of being sure, but I am convinced."</p>
+
+<p>"It's frightening."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Bobby frightening? In all the time I've been tutoring him, has he
+ever been out of line?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bobby's no alien!"</p>
+
+<p>"He may be."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, anyway, of course Bobby isn't frightening. But that business of
+the tigers&mdash;<i>that</i> is!"</p>
+
+<p>"They didn't hurt anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but don't you see, John? It's&mdash;irresponsible. How do you fit it in
+with your super-intelligent super-beings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ann," he said impatiently, "we're dealing with fantastically
+intelligent beings, but beings who are still <i>children</i>&mdash;can't you
+understand that? They're just finding out their powers&mdash;one is a
+telepath, another levitates, a third is a teleport. A riot is started by
+Alec Cress or Jacky Hodge or one of those 3R hoodlums. And our child
+genius can't resist making a kind of joke of his own."</p>
+
+<p>"Joke? With <i>tigers</i>? John, I tell you I'm frightened." Her husband said
+nothing and she looked at him sharply. "You <i>hope</i> it's this way, don't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he didn't answer. Then he sighed. "Yes. Yes, I do both
+believe and hope I'm right, Ann. I never thought that I'd be willing to
+give up the struggle&mdash;that's what it amounts to. But I don't think the
+human race can manage itself any more. So, I'm willing and glad to have
+some other race teach us how to live. I know we've always looked on the
+idea of domination by some race from the stars with both terror and
+revulsion. But we've made such a mess of things on Earth that I, at
+least, would be glad to see them come."</p>
+
+<p>After a while, Ann said, "I've got to do some shopping for supper."</p>
+
+<p>She began mechanically putting her work away.</p>
+
+<p>"You're shocked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And relieved, too, a little. And, at the same time, still a bit
+frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"It's probably for the best."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It's sad, though. Have you told this to anyone else?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. After all, it's still only a theory. I've got to find some kind of
+proof. Except that I don't know how."</p>
+
+<p>"You've convinced me." She stood in the doorway, then turned to him and
+he could see that she was crying. She dashed the tears from her eyes. "I
+suppose we have to go on doing the same things. We have to have dinner
+tonight. I must shop...."</p>
+
+<p>He took her in his arms. "It'll be all right," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel so helpless! What are you going to <i>do</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Right now," he said, "I think I'll go fishing."</p>
+
+<p>Ann began to laugh, a little hysterically. "You <i>are</i> relaxed about it,"
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Might as well relax and give it more thought."</p>
+
+<p>Ann kissed him and went into the kitchen. She was gone when he came out
+with his rod and creel. Going down the walk under the trees, he was
+aware again of what a fine autumn afternoon it was. He began to whistle
+as he went down the hill toward the stream.</p>
+
+<p>He didn't catch anything, of course. He had fished the pool at least a
+hundred times without luck, but that did not matter. He knew there was a
+fighting old bass in its depths and, probably, he would have been sorry
+to catch him. Now, his line gently agitated the dark water as he sat
+under a big tree on the stream bank and smoked. Idly he opened the copy
+of Yeats' poems and began reading: <i>Turning and turning in the widening
+gyre....</i></p>
+
+<p>In mounting excitement, he read the coldly beautiful, the terrible and
+revelatory poem through to the end. <i>And what rough beast, its hour come
+round at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?</i></p>
+
+<p>Ward became aware that his pipe was out. He put it away, feeling the
+goose pimples, generated by the poem, leave his flesh. Then he shook
+himself and sighed. We're lucky, he thought, it might have been the way
+the old boy predicted it in the poem. It might have been terrible.</p>
+
+<p>He sighed again, watching his line in the dark water, and thought of
+Bobby. You could hardly call Bobby a rough beast. The line flickered in
+the water and then was still. He would have a lot of time for this kind
+of life, he thought, if his theory were correct. He watched a flight of
+leaves dapple the pool with the insignia of autumn. He was not sure he
+wanted to spend a lifetime fishing.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the pool exploded into motion, the water frothed and flashed
+white and the line in his hand sang like a piano wire. Automatically, he
+jerked his line and began to reel in, at the same time his mind was
+telling him no line of its weight could long hold what he had hooked. As
+suddenly as the action had begun, it was ended and he was pulling
+something heavy against the stream bank. He gaped at it, his eyes
+popping. Then he heard the rustle of leaves and the snap of a stick
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"Catch somep'n, teach'?" a voice asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I caught something." He got his tobacco pouch from his pocket and
+filled his pipe, trying to keep his hands from trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, he's a <i>big</i> one, teach'," the voice said.</p>
+
+<p>Ward stood up. The boy, Jacky Hodge, leaning over the bank looking down
+at the fish. Behind him, Ward saw Bobby, Alec Cress, Danny and several
+others. <i>Now which of you is laughing?</i> he wondered. But there was no
+way to tell. Jacky, a boy of twelve or thirteen, had his usual look of
+stupid good nature. Bobby, under the flambeau of red hair, dreamed at
+the fish. The others wore the open poker faces of children.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a <i>funny</i> fish," one of them said and then they were all
+laughing as they raced away.</p>
+
+<p>With some difficulty, Ward got the fish out of the water and began to
+drag it up the hill toward his house.</p>
+
+<p>"Outspace fish," Ward said as he dumped the thing on the work table
+where Ann had deposited the bag of groceries.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get <i>that</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"I just caught it. Down in the stream."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That?</i> In our stream?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeah."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at it. The fish resembled a small marlin in shape, but it
+looked as if its sides had been painted by an abstract artist.</p>
+
+<p>"They planted it on my hook," he told her. "Teleported it from somewhere
+and planted it on me. Like the tigers."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;one of the kids. There were a bunch of them down by the
+river."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it the proof you wanted?"</p>
+
+<p>"Almost. I'd like to make them&mdash;whoever they are&mdash;admit it, though. But
+you can't pry anything out of them. They stick together like&mdash;like kids,
+I guess. Tell me, why is it that the smart ones don't discriminate?
+They'd as soon play with morons like Hodge or Cress as with the brainy
+ones."</p>
+
+<p>"Democratic, I guess," Ann said. She looked at the fish without
+enthusiasm and turned it over on its other side. "Weren't you the same
+way, when you were a boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Guess so. Leader of my group was almost an idiot. Head of the 3Rs now."
+He started to put his fishing tackle away. "Got to get ready for Star
+Watch," he said. "I'm on the early trick tonight." He halted in the
+kitchen doorway, still holding the rod and creel. He looked back at the
+fish. "That kind of thing is likely to take all the fun out of fishing,"
+he told her.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Usually, he found Star Watch a bore. There were often Saucer sightings,
+it was true. He had had many himself, some of them very close in, but
+all that had become routine. At first, the government had tried shooting
+them down, but the attempts had ended in total failure and the Saucers
+still came, aloof and unreasonable, as if they did not even know that
+they were being shot at. Later, communication had been tried&mdash;but with
+no better results.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when the Saucers were sighted, the Watcher phoned in a report, some
+bored plotter in Saucer Control took bearings and speed, or replied that
+they had the thing on radar. The next day, the score of sightings would
+be Spellcast&mdash;it was less exciting than watching for grunnion.</p>
+
+<p>Tonight, however, Ward was excited. As he left his house, he set out at
+a fast pace for the school. He found Bobby in front of the boys'
+dormitory.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, John?" the boy called as he trotted over to the teacher.</p>
+
+<p>"How'd you like to come on Star Watch with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right." They went down the street together.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to try something," Ward told the boy. "I think I know how we can
+get in touch with the Saucer people."</p>
+
+<p>"But they <i>have</i> tried."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know&mdash;with radio and blinker lights and all that. But maybe
+that's the wrong way. Bobby, you're a telepath, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not very good at it and anyway I don't think it'll work."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I tried once, but I couldn't seem to get anywhere. They seemed&mdash;I
+dunno&mdash;funny."</p>
+
+<p>"In what way?" Ward asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Just sort of funny."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if we're lucky, maybe we can try again tonight."</p>
+
+<p>"Yeah," Bobby said, "it's probably a good night for it. Full moon. Why
+do you suppose they seem to like the full moon, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I knew."</p>
+
+<p>It didn't look as if they were going to have any luck. They had waited
+for two hours and Bobby was asleep on a bench in the small "duck blind"
+the Watchers used. Then John heard it.</p>
+
+<p>It was a high shimmer of sound and it gave him gooseflesh, as it always
+did. He couldn't see anything yet. Then it appeared to the north, very
+low, like a coagulation of the moonlight itself, and he shook the boy.</p>
+
+<p>Bobby was awake immediately and, together, they watched its approach. It
+was moving slowly, turned on an edge. It looked like a knife of light.
+Then it rolled over, or shifted its form, and the familiar shape
+appeared. The humming stopped and the Saucer floated in the moonlight
+like a giant metallic lily-pad, perhaps a half mile away.</p>
+
+<p>"Try now, Bobby," he said, attempting to keep calm.</p>
+
+<p>The boy stood in the moonlight in front of the blind, very still, as if
+collecting the silence out of the night. Once he shook his head as
+though to clear it and started to say something. Then, for a long
+minute, he held his face toward the moon as if he were listening.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, he giggled.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" Ward snapped, unable to repress his impatience.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure. I thought it seemed something like a joke."</p>
+
+<p>"Try to ask where they're from."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later, the boy shook his head. "I guess I can't get anything,"
+he said. "All I seem to get is that they're saying, '<i>We're here</i>.' As
+if they didn't understand me."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Try to get <i>anything</i>."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later, the ship turned on edge, or shifted its shape, and slid
+back into the sky. Ward picked up the phone and called Saucer Control.</p>
+
+<p>"Got it," the bored voice said.</p>
+
+<p>He put down the phone and sat in silence, feeling sick with frustration.</p>
+
+<p>"Might as well knock off, Bobby," he said gently to the boy. "I guess
+that's all for the night. You run along and hit the sack."</p>
+
+<p>The boy started to leave and then turned back. "I'm sorry, John," he
+said. "I guess I'm not very good at it. There's one thing though...." He
+hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think they know any poetry. In fact, I'm pretty sure of that."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," Ward said, laughing. "I guess that's the most important
+thing in <i>your</i> life right now. Run along, Bobby."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>An hour later, his watch ended and he started for home, still feeling
+depressed at having failed. He was passing the dormitory when he saw it.
+It hung in the air, almost overhead. The color of the moonlight itself,
+it was hard to spot. But it was not the Saucer that held him rigid with
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>Over the roof of the dormitory, small and growing smaller as it went
+straight toward the Saucer, he saw a figure, then another and then a
+third. While he watched, there was a jet of blue light from the object
+in the sky&mdash;the opening of an airlock, he thought&mdash;and the figures
+disappeared, one by one, into the interior of the ship. Ward began to
+run.</p>
+
+<p>It was strictly forbidden for a teacher to enter the dormitory&mdash;that
+part of the boys' world was completely their own. But he ignored that
+ruling now as he raced up the stairs. All he could think of was that
+this was the chance to identify the invaders. The boys who had levitated
+themselves up to the Saucer would be missing.</p>
+
+<p>He was still exultantly certain of this as he jerked open the doors of
+the first three rooms. Each one was empty. And the fourth and fifth, as
+well. Frantically, he pulled open door after door, going through the
+motions, although his mind told him that it was useless, that all of the
+boys, with a Saucer so close, would be out looking at it.</p>
+
+<p>Wait until they returned? He couldn't remain in the dormitory and, even
+if he did, when they all came back, how could he find out which boys had
+gone up to the ship? They wouldn't be likely to tell, nor would the
+others, even if they knew. Aimlessly, he went on opening doors, flashing
+his Watcher's light.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps there would be a clue in one of the rooms. Excited again, he
+rapidly checked them, rummaging in closets, picking up their sports
+things and their toys. Nothing there. Until he found the book.</p>
+
+<p>It was an odd-looking book, in a language he couldn't read. He looked at
+it doubtfully. Was the script simply Cyrillic? Or Hebrew? He stuffed it
+into his pocket and glanced around at the walls of the room. Pictures of
+athletes, mostly, and a couple of pin-ups. In a drawer, under some
+clothing, a French post card. He examined some of the objects on the
+dresser.</p>
+
+<p>Then he was looking stupidly at his hand. He was holding a piece of
+string with a ring attached to it. And, just as certainly, there was
+something attached to the other end. Or it had been. But there was
+nothing he could see now. He pulled on the string and it tightened. Yes,
+there was a drag on the other end, <i>but there was nothing he could see
+... or feel</i>.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to reconstruct his actions. He had been pawing among the
+things. He had taken hold of the string and had pulled something
+attached to the end of it off the table. The thing had fallen and
+disappeared&mdash;but <i>where</i>? It was <i>still</i> tied to the string, but where
+was it?</p>
+
+<p>Another dimension, he thought, feeling the hair stand up on his neck,
+the sudden riot of his blood as he knew he had found the evidence he
+wanted.</p>
+
+<p>He snapped off the light and groped his way rapidly down the stairs.
+Once on the street, he began to run. It did not occur to him to feel
+ridiculous at dragging along behind him, on the end of a string, some
+object which he could not see.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Okay," Ann said. "But what <i>is</i> it?" She sat on the divan looking at
+the book.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, but I think it's alien."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> think it's a comic book. In some foreign language&mdash;or maybe in
+classical Greek for all we know." She pointed to an illustration. "Isn't
+this like the fish you caught? Of course it is. And look at the
+fisherman&mdash;his clothes are funny looking, but I'll bet he's telling
+about the one that got away."</p>
+
+<p>"Damn it, don't joke! What about <i>this</i>?" He waved the string.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's extra-dimensional. It's...." He jerked the string with nervous
+repetition and, suddenly, something was in his hand. Surprised, he
+dropped it. It disappeared and he felt the tug on the end of the string.</p>
+
+<p>"There <i>is</i> something!" He began jerking the string and it was there
+again. This time he held it, looking at it with awe.</p>
+
+<p>It was neither very big nor very heavy. It was probably made out of some
+kind of glass or plastic. The color was dazzling, but that was not what
+made him turn his head away&mdash;it was the shape of the thing. Something
+was wrong with its surfaces. Plane melted into plane, the surface curved
+and rejoined itself. He felt dizzy.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something&mdash;something like a Klein Bottle&mdash;or a tesseract&mdash;or maybe both
+of them together." He looked at it for a moment and then turned away
+again. It was impossible to look at it very long. "It's something built
+to cut through our three-dimensional space," he said. He dropped it,
+then tugged. The thing dropped out of sight and reappeared again,
+rolling up the string toward his hand.</p>
+
+<p>That was when he lost control. He lay down on the floor and howled in a
+seizure of laughter that was like crying.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>John!</i>" Ann said primly. "John Ward, you <i>stop</i>!" She went out of the
+room and returned with a glass half full of whisky.</p>
+
+<p>Ward got up from the floor and weakly slouched in a chair. He took a
+long drink from the glass, lit his pipe with great deliberation, and
+spoke very softly. "Well," he said, "I think we've got the answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Have we?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. It was there all the time and I couldn't see it. I always thought
+it was strange we couldn't get in touch with the Outspacers. I had Bobby
+try tonight&mdash;<i>he</i> couldn't do anything either. I thought maybe he wasn't
+trying&mdash;or that he was one of them and didn't want to let me in on it.
+He said they sounded&mdash;funny. By that, he meant strange or alien, I
+thought."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sure they must be," Ann said, relaxed now that John's
+outburst was over.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But that's <i>not</i> what he meant&mdash;he's just a normal human genius.
+He <i>meant</i> funny." He lifted his hand. "Know what this is?" He held up
+the strange object on the string. "It's a <i>yo-yo</i>. An <i>extra-dimensional
+yo-yo</i>. And you were right&mdash;that thing <i>is</i> a comic book. Look," he
+said. He held the odd object toward her. "See this? J.H.&mdash;Jacky Hodge,
+one of the stupidest ones. It's <i>his</i> yo-yo. But I was right about one
+thing. We <i>are</i> being invaded. It's probably been going on for
+centuries. Invaded by <i>morons</i>, morons with interstellar drives,
+super-science&mdash;super-<i>yo-yos</i>! Morons from the stars!"</p>
+
+<p>He began to laugh again. Ann went out to the kitchen for another glass.
+Then, after a while, she went back for the bottle.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of What Rough Beast?, by Jefferson Highe
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of What Rough Beast?, by Jefferson Highe
+
+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: What Rough Beast?
+
+Author: Jefferson Highe
+
+Illustrator: Dick Francis
+
+Release Date: April 13, 2010 [EBook #31975]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT ROUGH BEAST? ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ What Rough Beast?
+
+ By JEFFERSON HIGHE
+
+ Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction
+July 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+[Sidenote: _When you are a teacher, you expect kids to play pranks. But
+with tigers--and worse?_]
+
+Standing braced--or, as it seemed to him, crucified--against the length
+of the blackboard, John Ward tried to calculate his chances of heading
+off the impending riot. It didn't seem likely that anything he could do
+would stop it.
+
+"Say something," he told himself. "Continue the lecture, _talk_!" But
+against the background of hysterical voices from the school yard,
+against the brass fear in his mouth, he was dumb. He looked at the bank
+of boys' faces in front of him. They seemed to him now as identical as
+metal stampings, each one completely deadpan, each pair of jaws moving
+in a single rhythm, like a mechanical herd. He could feel the tension in
+them, and he knew that, in a moment, they would begin to move. He felt
+shame and humiliation that he had failed.
+
+"Shakespeare," he said clearly, holding his voice steady, "for those of
+you who have never heard of him, was the greatest of all dramatists.
+Greater even," he went on doggedly, knowing that they might take it as a
+provocation, "than the writers for the Spellcasts." He stopped talking
+abruptly.
+
+Three tigers stepped out of the ceiling. Their eyes were glassy,
+absolutely rigid, as if, like the last of the hairy mammoths, they had
+been frozen a long age in some glacial crevasse. They hung there a
+moment and then fell into the room like a furry waterfall. They landed
+snarling.
+
+Something smashed viciously into the wall beside Ward's head. From the
+back of the room, someone's hand flashed a glitter of light. Ward leaped
+away and cut across the end of the room toward the escape chute. Holding
+his ring with its identifying light beam before him, he leaped into the
+slot like a racing driver. Behind him, the room exploded in shouts and
+snarls. The gate on the chute slammed shut after him, and he heard them
+scratching and banging at it. Without the identifying light, they would
+be unable to get through. He took a long breath of relief as he shot
+down the polished groove of the slide into the Mob Quad. The boys he'd
+left behind knew how to protect themselves.
+
+They were all there--Dr. Allenby, McCarthy the psych man, Laura Ames the
+pretty gym teacher, Foster, Jensen--all of them. So it had been general
+then, not just his group which had rioted. He knew it was all the more
+serious now, because it had not been limited to one outbreak.
+
+"You, too, Ward?" Dr. Allenby said sadly. He was a short, slender man
+with white hair and a white mustache. He helped Ward up from where he
+had fallen at the foot of the escape slide. "What was it in your
+classroom this time?"
+
+"Tigers," Ward said. Standing beside Allenby, he felt very tall,
+although he was only of average height. He smoothed down his wiry dark
+hair and began energetically brushing the dust from his clothing.
+
+"Well, it's always something," Allenby said tiredly.
+
+He seemed more sad than upset, Ward thought, a spent old man clinging to
+the straw of a dream. He saw where the metaphor was leading and pushed
+it aside. If Allenby were a drowning man, then Ward himself was one. He
+looked at the others.
+
+They were all edgy or simply frightened, but they were taking it very
+well. Some of them were stationed at the gates of the Quad, but none of
+them, as far as he could see, was armed. Except for McCarthy. The psych
+man was wearing his Star Watcher helmet and had a B-gun strapped at his
+side. Probably had a small force-field in his pocket, Ward thought,
+_and_ a pair of brass knuckles.
+
+"So--the philosophy king got it too," McCarthy said, coming over to
+them. He was a big man, young but already florid with what Ward had
+always thought of as a roan complexion. "Love, understanding,
+sympathy--wasn't that what was supposed to work wonders? All they need
+is a copy of Robinson Crusoe and a chance to follow their natural
+instincts, eh?"
+
+"One failure doesn't prove anything," Ward said, trying not to be angry.
+
+"_One_ failure? How often do they have to make us hit the slides for the
+safety of the Mob Quad before you adopt a sensible theory?"
+
+"Let's not go through all that again. Restraint, Rubber hoses and
+Radiological shock--I've heard all about the 3 Rs."
+
+"At least they work!"
+
+"Oh, yes, they work fine. Except that they never learn to read and they
+can't sign their names with anything but an X."
+
+"It was progressive education that destroyed reading," McCarthy said
+heatedly. "And they don't _need_ to sign their names--that's what
+universal fingerprinting is for."
+
+"Please, gentlemen," Dr. Allenby interrupted gently. "This kind of
+squabbling is unbecoming to members of the faculty. Besides," he smiled
+with faded irony, "considering the circumstances, it's hardly a proper
+time."
+
+He pointed to the windows over the Quad where an occasional figure could
+be seen behind the glass. Lucky it was unbreakable, Ward thought,
+hearing the wild hysterical yelling from inside.
+
+"Mob Quad," Allenby said bitterly. "I thought I was naming it as a joke.
+The original Mob Quad was at Merton College, Oxford. One of the old
+defunct universities. _They_ had a Mob Quad to shelter students and
+professors from the town mobs. Professors _and_ students,
+gentlemen--they were a united front in those days. I suppose no one
+could have predicted our present circumstances."
+
+"That's all history," McCarthy said impatiently. "Bunk. This is _now_,
+and I say the thing to do--"
+
+"We know." Allenby waved him to silence. "But your way has been tried
+long enough. How long is it since Los Angeles Day, when the U.N.
+buildings were bombed and burned by the original 3R Party in order to
+get rid of Unesco? Two hundred forty-three years next June, isn't it?
+And your Party had had all that time to get education back on what it
+calls a sane program. Now _nobody_ is educated."
+
+"It takes time to undo the damage of progressive education," McCarthy
+said. "Besides, a lot of that junk--reading, writing--as I've often told
+Ward--"
+
+"All right," Ward broke in. "But two and a half centuries is long
+enough. Someone must try a new tack or the country is doomed. There
+isn't much time. The Outspace invaders--"
+
+"The Outspace invaders are simply Russians," McCarthy said flatly.
+
+"That's a convenient view if you're an ostrich. Or, if you want to keep
+the Pretend War going, until the Outspacers take us over."
+
+McCarthy snorted contemptuously. "Ward, you damned fool--"
+
+"That will be all, gentlemen," Allenby said. He did not raise his voice,
+but McCarthy was silent and Ward marveled, as he had on other occasions,
+at the authority the old man carried.
+
+"Well," McCarthy said after a moment, "what are you going to do about
+_this_?" He gestured toward the windows from which shouts still rang.
+
+"Nothing. Let it run its course."
+
+"But you can't do _that_, man!"
+
+"I can and I will. What do you think, John?"
+
+"I agree," Ward said. "They won't hurt each other--they never have yet.
+It'll wear itself out and then, tomorrow, we'll try again." He did not
+feel optimistic about how things would be the next day, but he didn't
+want to voice his fears. "The thing that worries me," he said, "are
+those tigers. Where'd they come from?"
+
+"What tigers?" McCarthy wanted to know.
+
+Ward told him.
+
+"First it was cats," McCarthy said, "then birds ... now tigers. Either
+you're seeing things or someone's using a concealed projector."
+
+"I thought of the projector, but these seemed real. Stunned at first--as
+if they were as surprised as I was."
+
+"You have a teleport in your class," Allenby said.
+
+"Yes--maybe that's the way it was done. I don't know quite what to make
+of it," Ward said. If he voiced his real suspicion now, he knew it would
+sound silly. "I know some of them can teleport. I've seen them. Small
+things, of course...."
+
+"Not in _my_ classes," McCarthy said indignantly. "I absolutely forbid
+that sort of thing."
+
+"You do wrong, then," Allenby said.
+
+"It's unscientific!"
+
+"Perhaps. But we want to encourage whatever wild talents they possess."
+
+"So that they can materialize tigers in--in our bedrooms, I suppose.
+Well, I've had enough. Stay here and stew if you like, but I'm going
+back to my class. I turned the hypno-gas on them before I took my dive.
+They should be nice and gentle for me by this time." He turned away
+defiantly.
+
+"I know how you feel," Allenby said when McCarthy was gone. "He's a holy
+terror, John. Shouldn't be around here. But I have to keep him, since he
+was recommended by the 3Rs and the Educational League. He gives the
+school a bit of protective coloration. Perhaps he's why they haven't
+closed us down yet."
+
+"I know--I'm not blaming you. Do you suppose we can go back to our jobs?
+It sounds as if it's wearing itself out." He gestured up at the windows.
+
+"Can't do anything more today."
+
+"No, you're probably right."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+For a moment Allenby was silent as they went toward the gate of the
+Quad. Then he said, "John, you're a good man. I don't want you to
+despair. What we're attempting--to bring education back into our
+culture--is a good and noble cause. And you can't really blame the
+kids." He nodded up at the walls. "They've just had too many Spellcasts,
+too many scares in the Pretend War--they can't believe in any future and
+they don't know anything about their past. Don't blame them."
+
+"No, sir--I don't."
+
+"Just do our best," Allenby said. "Try to teach them the forgotten
+things. Then, in their turn, in the next generation...."
+
+"Yes, we have to believe that. But, Dr. Allenby, we could go a lot
+faster if we were to screen them. If they were all like young Tomkins,
+we'd be doing very well. But as long as we have people like young Cress
+or Hodge or Rottke--well, it's hard to do anything with them. They go
+straight from school into their fathers' firms--after all, if you're
+guaranteed a business success in life, you don't struggle to learn. And,
+anyway, you don't need much education to be a dope salesman or a numbers
+consultant."
+
+"I'd like to have the place run only for the deserving and the
+interested," Allenby said. "But we haven't much choice. We must have
+some of these boys who are from the best families. More protective
+coloration--like McCarthy. If we were only to run the place for the
+brilliant ones, you know we'd be closed down in a week."
+
+"I suppose so," Ward agreed. He wondered whether he should tell his
+suspicions to Allenby. Better not, he decided. Allenby had enough to
+think about.
+
+The last of the shouting had died. As Ward went out the gate of the
+Quad, he felt his heart lift a little the way it always did when he
+started for home. Out here, miles from the city, the air was clean and
+the Sun was bright on the hills, quilted now with the colors of autumn.
+There was a tang of wood smoke in the air and, in the leaves beside the
+path, he saw an apple. It was very cold and damp and there was a wild
+taste to it as he bit into the fruit. He was a tired teacher, glad to be
+going home after a hard day in the school. He hoped that no one had been
+hurt by the tigers.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+John Ward pushed the papers across his desk, reached for his pipe and
+sighed. "Well, that does it, Bobby," he said.
+
+He looked at the red-headed six-year-old boy sitting in the too-big
+chair across from him. Bobby was a small boy with a freckled face and
+skinned knees. He sat in the big chair with his feet sticking straight
+out in front of him and played with a slide rule.
+
+"I've taught you all the math I know," Ward said. "Differential,
+integral, topology, Maddow's Theory of Transfinite Domains--that's as
+far as I go. What's next?"
+
+"I don't know, John. I was thinking of going in for nuclear physics,
+but...."
+
+"Go on, but what?" Ward prompted.
+
+"Well...." Bobby gave him an embarrassed look. "I'm kind of tired of
+that stuff. It's easy and not very interesting. What I'd really like--"
+He broke off and began fiddling with the slide rule again.
+
+"Yes, Bobby, what would you like?"
+
+"You won't be mad?"
+
+"No." Ward smiled.
+
+"Well, I'd really like to try to write a poem--a real poem, I mean, not
+advertiverse--a real poem, with rhymes and everything." He paused and
+looked to see how Ward was taking it and then went on with a rush. "I
+know it's almost illegal, but I want to try. I really want to."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Oh, I dunno--I just want to. I remember that an old poet named Yeats
+said something about writing poems--the fascination with what's
+difficult. Maybe that's it."
+
+"Well," Ward said, "it's a dangerous occupation." He looked at the boy
+with wonder and pride. "Sure, Bobby, give it a try if you want to."
+
+"Gee, thanks!" the boy said. He jumped out of the chair and started
+toward the door of the study.
+
+"Bobby," Ward called. "Tell me--can you teleport?"
+
+"Not exactly," Bobby said. The papers on the desk in front of Ward
+suddenly fluttered into the air. They did a lazy circle of the room,
+swung into an echelon and performed a slow chandelle, before dropping
+into Bobby's hand. "I can do that stuff. But I didn't do the tigers."
+
+"I'm sure you didn't."
+
+"It was a good stunt, but I wouldn't do that to you, John."
+
+"I know. Do you know who did?"
+
+"I'm not sure." Bobby didn't look at him now. "Anyway, it'd be
+snitching."
+
+"I'm not asking you to tell."
+
+"Gee, I'm sorry," Bobby said. "I wanted to tell you in the yard. I knew
+there was going to be a rumble, but I couldn't snitch."
+
+"No, of course not." Ward shooed him off. "Go write your poem."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"But tigers!" Ann said. "Why tigers, John?"
+
+"I suppose they were convenient."
+
+"Tigers are never convenient."
+
+He crossed the room, picked up the phone and dialed. After a brief
+conversation, he turned back to her. "Well, now we know where they came
+from," he said. "The zoo. Disappeared for about half an hour. Then
+reappeared again."
+
+"I don't care where they came from," his wife said. Her dark head was
+bent over some work in her lap. "What difference does it make whether
+they came from the zoo or from Burma? The point is, bringing them in is
+dangerous--it's hooliganism, and don't tell me that boys will be boys."
+
+"It doesn't show very mature judgment," he admitted. "But Bobby and his
+pals aren't very old."
+
+"Only about four hundred and eighty-five years old, according to his
+I.Q. Do you think it was Bobby?"
+
+"Bobby isn't the only genius we've got. There's Danny, remember, and
+William Tender--and Bobby said he couldn't teleport big stuff."
+
+"Well?"
+
+John Ward had to confide his theory. He felt that he had to tell Ann
+everything, all the speculation and suspicion he'd carried around with
+him for so long.
+
+"I think we're being invaded," he said.
+
+Ann looked at him steadily for a moment. "You mean the Outspacers?"
+
+"Yes--but not in the way you're thinking. It's been reported that the
+Saucers are Russian or Argentine or Brazilian or Chinese--that's what
+we're told. But that's simply Pretend War propaganda and almost no one
+believes it any longer. Most of us think of them as Outspacers."
+
+"And you think they're moving in?"
+
+"I think they're watching--sort of--well, sort of monitoring."
+
+"Monitoring us? What for?"
+
+"No, not us. I think they've planted children among us. I think the
+Outspacers are _school-teachers_."
+
+Ann got briskly to her feet. "I think," she said, "that we'll take your
+temperature and see if perhaps you shouldn't be in bed."
+
+"Wait, Ann, I'm serious. I know it sounds crazy, but it isn't. Think of
+it this way--here's a race, obviously humanoid, on another star system.
+For some reason, overpopulation or whatever, they have to find room on
+another planet. Let's assume they're a highly civilized race--they'd
+have to be to have interstellar travel--so, of course, they can't simply
+take over Earth in an act of aggression. That would be repugnant to
+them.
+
+"So they _seed_ our planet with their children. These children are
+geniuses. When they grow up, they are naturally the leaders of the
+world's governments and they're in a position to allow the Outspacers to
+live with us on Earth. To live peacefully with us, whereas now, if the
+Outspacers were to try to live here, it would mean war."
+
+"And you think Bobby is one of these--these seedlings?"
+
+"Maybe. He's unbelievingly intelligent. _And_ he's a foundling."
+
+"What has that to do with it?"
+
+"I've looked up the statistics on foundlings. When the Saucers first
+began to appear, back in the 20th Century, the number of foundlings
+began to increase. Not a lot, but some. Then the Saucers disappeared for
+almost two and a half centuries and the number decreased. Now, since the
+Outspacers are once more evident, the number of foundlings has increased
+very greatly."
+
+"And your other geniuses? All foundlings?"
+
+"Not all. But that doesn't mean anything--plenty of foundlings are
+adopted. And who knows which child is an adopted one?"
+
+Ann Ward sat down again. "You're quite serious about this, John?"
+
+"There's no way of being sure, but I am convinced."
+
+"It's frightening."
+
+"Is Bobby frightening? In all the time I've been tutoring him, has he
+ever been out of line?"
+
+"Bobby's no alien!"
+
+"He may be."
+
+"Well, anyway, of course Bobby isn't frightening. But that business of
+the tigers--_that_ is!"
+
+"They didn't hurt anyone."
+
+"No, but don't you see, John? It's--irresponsible. How do you fit it in
+with your super-intelligent super-beings?"
+
+"Ann," he said impatiently, "we're dealing with fantastically
+intelligent beings, but beings who are still _children_--can't you
+understand that? They're just finding out their powers--one is a
+telepath, another levitates, a third is a teleport. A riot is started by
+Alec Cress or Jacky Hodge or one of those 3R hoodlums. And our child
+genius can't resist making a kind of joke of his own."
+
+"Joke? With _tigers_? John, I tell you I'm frightened." Her husband said
+nothing and she looked at him sharply. "You _hope_ it's this way, don't
+you?"
+
+For a moment he didn't answer. Then he sighed. "Yes. Yes, I do both
+believe and hope I'm right, Ann. I never thought that I'd be willing to
+give up the struggle--that's what it amounts to. But I don't think the
+human race can manage itself any more. So, I'm willing and glad to have
+some other race teach us how to live. I know we've always looked on the
+idea of domination by some race from the stars with both terror and
+revulsion. But we've made such a mess of things on Earth that I, at
+least, would be glad to see them come."
+
+After a while, Ann said, "I've got to do some shopping for supper."
+
+She began mechanically putting her work away.
+
+"You're shocked?"
+
+"Yes. And relieved, too, a little. And, at the same time, still a bit
+frightened."
+
+"It's probably for the best."
+
+"Yes. It's sad, though. Have you told this to anyone else?"
+
+"No. After all, it's still only a theory. I've got to find some kind of
+proof. Except that I don't know how."
+
+"You've convinced me." She stood in the doorway, then turned to him and
+he could see that she was crying. She dashed the tears from her eyes. "I
+suppose we have to go on doing the same things. We have to have dinner
+tonight. I must shop...."
+
+He took her in his arms. "It'll be all right," he said.
+
+"I feel so helpless! What are you going to _do_?"
+
+"Right now," he said, "I think I'll go fishing."
+
+Ann began to laugh, a little hysterically. "You _are_ relaxed about it,"
+she said.
+
+"Might as well relax and give it more thought."
+
+Ann kissed him and went into the kitchen. She was gone when he came out
+with his rod and creel. Going down the walk under the trees, he was
+aware again of what a fine autumn afternoon it was. He began to whistle
+as he went down the hill toward the stream.
+
+He didn't catch anything, of course. He had fished the pool at least a
+hundred times without luck, but that did not matter. He knew there was a
+fighting old bass in its depths and, probably, he would have been sorry
+to catch him. Now, his line gently agitated the dark water as he sat
+under a big tree on the stream bank and smoked. Idly he opened the copy
+of Yeats' poems and began reading: _Turning and turning in the widening
+gyre...._
+
+In mounting excitement, he read the coldly beautiful, the terrible and
+revelatory poem through to the end. _And what rough beast, its hour come
+round at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?_
+
+Ward became aware that his pipe was out. He put it away, feeling the
+goose pimples, generated by the poem, leave his flesh. Then he shook
+himself and sighed. We're lucky, he thought, it might have been the way
+the old boy predicted it in the poem. It might have been terrible.
+
+He sighed again, watching his line in the dark water, and thought of
+Bobby. You could hardly call Bobby a rough beast. The line flickered in
+the water and then was still. He would have a lot of time for this kind
+of life, he thought, if his theory were correct. He watched a flight of
+leaves dapple the pool with the insignia of autumn. He was not sure he
+wanted to spend a lifetime fishing.
+
+Suddenly the pool exploded into motion, the water frothed and flashed
+white and the line in his hand sang like a piano wire. Automatically, he
+jerked his line and began to reel in, at the same time his mind was
+telling him no line of its weight could long hold what he had hooked. As
+suddenly as the action had begun, it was ended and he was pulling
+something heavy against the stream bank. He gaped at it, his eyes
+popping. Then he heard the rustle of leaves and the snap of a stick
+behind him.
+
+"Catch somep'n, teach'?" a voice asked.
+
+"Yes, I caught something." He got his tobacco pouch from his pocket and
+filled his pipe, trying to keep his hands from trembling.
+
+"Gee, he's a _big_ one, teach'," the voice said.
+
+Ward stood up. The boy, Jacky Hodge, leaning over the bank looking down
+at the fish. Behind him, Ward saw Bobby, Alec Cress, Danny and several
+others. _Now which of you is laughing?_ he wondered. But there was no
+way to tell. Jacky, a boy of twelve or thirteen, had his usual look of
+stupid good nature. Bobby, under the flambeau of red hair, dreamed at
+the fish. The others wore the open poker faces of children.
+
+"That's a _funny_ fish," one of them said and then they were all
+laughing as they raced away.
+
+With some difficulty, Ward got the fish out of the water and began to
+drag it up the hill toward his house.
+
+"Outspace fish," Ward said as he dumped the thing on the work table
+where Ann had deposited the bag of groceries.
+
+"Where did you get _that_?"
+
+"I just caught it. Down in the stream."
+
+"_That?_ In our stream?"
+
+"Yeah."
+
+He looked at it. The fish resembled a small marlin in shape, but it
+looked as if its sides had been painted by an abstract artist.
+
+"They planted it on my hook," he told her. "Teleported it from somewhere
+and planted it on me. Like the tigers."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"I don't know--one of the kids. There were a bunch of them down by the
+river."
+
+"Is it the proof you wanted?"
+
+"Almost. I'd like to make them--whoever they are--admit it, though. But
+you can't pry anything out of them. They stick together like--like kids,
+I guess. Tell me, why is it that the smart ones don't discriminate?
+They'd as soon play with morons like Hodge or Cress as with the brainy
+ones."
+
+"Democratic, I guess," Ann said. She looked at the fish without
+enthusiasm and turned it over on its other side. "Weren't you the same
+way, when you were a boy?"
+
+"Guess so. Leader of my group was almost an idiot. Head of the 3Rs now."
+He started to put his fishing tackle away. "Got to get ready for Star
+Watch," he said. "I'm on the early trick tonight." He halted in the
+kitchen doorway, still holding the rod and creel. He looked back at the
+fish. "That kind of thing is likely to take all the fun out of fishing,"
+he told her.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Usually, he found Star Watch a bore. There were often Saucer sightings,
+it was true. He had had many himself, some of them very close in, but
+all that had become routine. At first, the government had tried shooting
+them down, but the attempts had ended in total failure and the Saucers
+still came, aloof and unreasonable, as if they did not even know that
+they were being shot at. Later, communication had been tried--but with
+no better results.
+
+Now, when the Saucers were sighted, the Watcher phoned in a report, some
+bored plotter in Saucer Control took bearings and speed, or replied that
+they had the thing on radar. The next day, the score of sightings would
+be Spellcast--it was less exciting than watching for grunnion.
+
+Tonight, however, Ward was excited. As he left his house, he set out at
+a fast pace for the school. He found Bobby in front of the boys'
+dormitory.
+
+"What is it, John?" the boy called as he trotted over to the teacher.
+
+"How'd you like to come on Star Watch with me?"
+
+"All right." They went down the street together.
+
+"I want to try something," Ward told the boy. "I think I know how we can
+get in touch with the Saucer people."
+
+"But they _have_ tried."
+
+"Yes, I know--with radio and blinker lights and all that. But maybe
+that's the wrong way. Bobby, you're a telepath, aren't you?"
+
+"I'm not very good at it and anyway I don't think it'll work."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I tried once, but I couldn't seem to get anywhere. They seemed--I
+dunno--funny."
+
+"In what way?" Ward asked the boy.
+
+"Just sort of funny."
+
+"Well, if we're lucky, maybe we can try again tonight."
+
+"Yeah," Bobby said, "it's probably a good night for it. Full moon. Why
+do you suppose they seem to like the full moon, John?"
+
+"I wish I knew."
+
+It didn't look as if they were going to have any luck. They had waited
+for two hours and Bobby was asleep on a bench in the small "duck blind"
+the Watchers used. Then John heard it.
+
+It was a high shimmer of sound and it gave him gooseflesh, as it always
+did. He couldn't see anything yet. Then it appeared to the north, very
+low, like a coagulation of the moonlight itself, and he shook the boy.
+
+Bobby was awake immediately and, together, they watched its approach. It
+was moving slowly, turned on an edge. It looked like a knife of light.
+Then it rolled over, or shifted its form, and the familiar shape
+appeared. The humming stopped and the Saucer floated in the moonlight
+like a giant metallic lily-pad, perhaps a half mile away.
+
+"Try now, Bobby," he said, attempting to keep calm.
+
+The boy stood in the moonlight in front of the blind, very still, as if
+collecting the silence out of the night. Once he shook his head as
+though to clear it and started to say something. Then, for a long
+minute, he held his face toward the moon as if he were listening.
+
+Suddenly, he giggled.
+
+"What is it?" Ward snapped, unable to repress his impatience.
+
+"I'm not sure. I thought it seemed something like a joke."
+
+"Try to ask where they're from."
+
+A moment later, the boy shook his head. "I guess I can't get anything,"
+he said. "All I seem to get is that they're saying, '_We're here_.' As
+if they didn't understand me."
+
+"All right. Try to get _anything_."
+
+A moment later, the ship turned on edge, or shifted its shape, and slid
+back into the sky. Ward picked up the phone and called Saucer Control.
+
+"Got it," the bored voice said.
+
+He put down the phone and sat in silence, feeling sick with frustration.
+
+"Might as well knock off, Bobby," he said gently to the boy. "I guess
+that's all for the night. You run along and hit the sack."
+
+The boy started to leave and then turned back. "I'm sorry, John," he
+said. "I guess I'm not very good at it. There's one thing though...." He
+hesitated.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I don't think they know any poetry. In fact, I'm pretty sure of that."
+
+"All right," Ward said, laughing. "I guess that's the most important
+thing in _your_ life right now. Run along, Bobby."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+An hour later, his watch ended and he started for home, still feeling
+depressed at having failed. He was passing the dormitory when he saw it.
+It hung in the air, almost overhead. The color of the moonlight itself,
+it was hard to spot. But it was not the Saucer that held him rigid with
+attention.
+
+Over the roof of the dormitory, small and growing smaller as it went
+straight toward the Saucer, he saw a figure, then another and then a
+third. While he watched, there was a jet of blue light from the object
+in the sky--the opening of an airlock, he thought--and the figures
+disappeared, one by one, into the interior of the ship. Ward began to
+run.
+
+It was strictly forbidden for a teacher to enter the dormitory--that
+part of the boys' world was completely their own. But he ignored that
+ruling now as he raced up the stairs. All he could think of was that
+this was the chance to identify the invaders. The boys who had levitated
+themselves up to the Saucer would be missing.
+
+He was still exultantly certain of this as he jerked open the doors of
+the first three rooms. Each one was empty. And the fourth and fifth, as
+well. Frantically, he pulled open door after door, going through the
+motions, although his mind told him that it was useless, that all of the
+boys, with a Saucer so close, would be out looking at it.
+
+Wait until they returned? He couldn't remain in the dormitory and, even
+if he did, when they all came back, how could he find out which boys had
+gone up to the ship? They wouldn't be likely to tell, nor would the
+others, even if they knew. Aimlessly, he went on opening doors, flashing
+his Watcher's light.
+
+Perhaps there would be a clue in one of the rooms. Excited again, he
+rapidly checked them, rummaging in closets, picking up their sports
+things and their toys. Nothing there. Until he found the book.
+
+It was an odd-looking book, in a language he couldn't read. He looked at
+it doubtfully. Was the script simply Cyrillic? Or Hebrew? He stuffed it
+into his pocket and glanced around at the walls of the room. Pictures of
+athletes, mostly, and a couple of pin-ups. In a drawer, under some
+clothing, a French post card. He examined some of the objects on the
+dresser.
+
+Then he was looking stupidly at his hand. He was holding a piece of
+string with a ring attached to it. And, just as certainly, there was
+something attached to the other end. Or it had been. But there was
+nothing he could see now. He pulled on the string and it tightened. Yes,
+there was a drag on the other end, _but there was nothing he could see
+... or feel_.
+
+He tried to reconstruct his actions. He had been pawing among the
+things. He had taken hold of the string and had pulled something
+attached to the end of it off the table. The thing had fallen and
+disappeared--but _where_? It was _still_ tied to the string, but where
+was it?
+
+Another dimension, he thought, feeling the hair stand up on his neck,
+the sudden riot of his blood as he knew he had found the evidence he
+wanted.
+
+He snapped off the light and groped his way rapidly down the stairs.
+Once on the street, he began to run. It did not occur to him to feel
+ridiculous at dragging along behind him, on the end of a string, some
+object which he could not see.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Okay," Ann said. "But what _is_ it?" She sat on the divan looking at
+the book.
+
+"I don't know, but I think it's alien."
+
+"_I_ think it's a comic book. In some foreign language--or maybe in
+classical Greek for all we know." She pointed to an illustration. "Isn't
+this like the fish you caught? Of course it is. And look at the
+fisherman--his clothes are funny looking, but I'll bet he's telling
+about the one that got away."
+
+"Damn it, don't joke! What about _this_?" He waved the string.
+
+"Well, what about it?"
+
+"It's extra-dimensional. It's...." He jerked the string with nervous
+repetition and, suddenly, something was in his hand. Surprised, he
+dropped it. It disappeared and he felt the tug on the end of the string.
+
+"There _is_ something!" He began jerking the string and it was there
+again. This time he held it, looking at it with awe.
+
+It was neither very big nor very heavy. It was probably made out of some
+kind of glass or plastic. The color was dazzling, but that was not what
+made him turn his head away--it was the shape of the thing. Something
+was wrong with its surfaces. Plane melted into plane, the surface curved
+and rejoined itself. He felt dizzy.
+
+"What is it, John?"
+
+"Something--something like a Klein Bottle--or a tesseract--or maybe both
+of them together." He looked at it for a moment and then turned away
+again. It was impossible to look at it very long. "It's something built
+to cut through our three-dimensional space," he said. He dropped it,
+then tugged. The thing dropped out of sight and reappeared again,
+rolling up the string toward his hand.
+
+That was when he lost control. He lay down on the floor and howled in a
+seizure of laughter that was like crying.
+
+"_John!_" Ann said primly. "John Ward, you _stop_!" She went out of the
+room and returned with a glass half full of whisky.
+
+Ward got up from the floor and weakly slouched in a chair. He took a
+long drink from the glass, lit his pipe with great deliberation, and
+spoke very softly. "Well," he said, "I think we've got the answer."
+
+"Have we?"
+
+"Sure. It was there all the time and I couldn't see it. I always thought
+it was strange we couldn't get in touch with the Outspacers. I had Bobby
+try tonight--_he_ couldn't do anything either. I thought maybe he wasn't
+trying--or that he was one of them and didn't want to let me in on it.
+He said they sounded--funny. By that, he meant strange or alien, I
+thought."
+
+"Well, I'm sure they must be," Ann said, relaxed now that John's
+outburst was over.
+
+"Yes. But that's _not_ what he meant--he's just a normal human genius.
+He _meant_ funny." He lifted his hand. "Know what this is?" He held up
+the strange object on the string. "It's a _yo-yo_. An _extra-dimensional
+yo-yo_. And you were right--that thing _is_ a comic book. Look," he
+said. He held the odd object toward her. "See this? J.H.--Jacky Hodge,
+one of the stupidest ones. It's _his_ yo-yo. But I was right about one
+thing. We _are_ being invaded. It's probably been going on for
+centuries. Invaded by _morons_, morons with interstellar drives,
+super-science--super-_yo-yos_! Morons from the stars!"
+
+He began to laugh again. Ann went out to the kitchen for another glass.
+Then, after a while, she went back for the bottle.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of What Rough Beast?, by Jefferson Highe
+
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