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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea2b683 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50818 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50818) diff --git a/old/50818-h.zip b/old/50818-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 21f1b0f..0000000 --- a/old/50818-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/50818-h/50818-h.htm b/old/50818-h/50818-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index f2e9d77..0000000 --- a/old/50818-h/50818-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1335 +0,0 @@ -<!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=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of How to Make Friends, by Jim Harmon. - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of How to Make Friends, by Jim Harmon - -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/license - - -Title: How to Make Friends - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: January 1, 2016 [EBook #50818] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="396" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS</h1> - -<p>By JIM HARMON</p> - -<p>Illustrated by WEST</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Magazine October 1962.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="510" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">Every lonely man tries to make friends.<br /> -Manet just didn't know when to stop!</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>William Manet was alone.</p> - -<p>In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It would -give him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlate -loneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take him -to start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to begin -teaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminable -lectures to a bored and captive audience of one.</p> - -<p>He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whether -it was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and as -dirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal and -think more like a god than any man for generations.</p> - -<p>But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearing -bore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.</p> - -<p>Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was already -talking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he had -cut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up and -winked at it whenever he passed that way.</p> - -<p>Lately she was winking back at him.</p> - -<p>Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh from -his arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.</p> - -<p>No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manet -could only be this lonely on Mars.</p> - -<p>Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.</p> - -<p>All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middle -of the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat, -flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in the -black sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moons -and one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The whole -gimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one was -needed here—no human being, at least.</p> - -<p>The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn't -take much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefully -specified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycomb -Mars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.</p> - -<p>They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated people -for the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going to -isolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manet -and his fellows.</p> - -<p>The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fare -to Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuter -service for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodations -for couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren't -providing fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits between -the various Overseers. They weren't very providential.</p> - -<p>But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offered -wonderful opportunities.</p> - -<p>It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship making -a tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning as -bright as envy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Manet suspected hallucination, but in an existence with all the pallid -dispassion of a requited love he was happy to welcome dementia. -Sometimes he even manufactured it. Sometimes he would run through the -arteries of the factory and play that it had suddenly gone mad hating -human beings, and was about to close down its bulkheads on him as sure -as the Engineers' Thumb and bale up the pressure-dehydrated digest, -making so much stall flooring of him. He ran until he dropped with a -kind of climaxing release of terror.</p> - -<p>So Manet put on the pressure suit he had been given because he would -never need it, and marched out to meet the visiting spaceship.</p> - -<p>He wasn't quite clear how he came from walking effortlessly across -the Martian plain that had all the distance-perpetuating qualities of -a kid's crank movie machine to the comfortable interior of a strange -cabin. Not a ship's cabin but a Northwoods cabin.</p> - -<p>The black and orange Hallowe'en log charring in the slate stone -fireplace seemed real. So did the lean man with the smiling mustache -painted with the random designs of the fire, standing before the -horizontal pattern of chinked wall.</p> - -<p>"Need a fresher?" the host inquired.</p> - -<p>Manet's eyes wondered down to heavy water tumbler full of rich, amber -whiskey full of sparks from the hearth. He stirred himself in the -comfortingly warm leather chair. "No, no, I'm <i>fine</i>." He let the word -hang there for examination. "Pardon me, but could you tell me just what -place this is?"</p> - -<p>The host shrugged. It was the only word for it. "Whatever place you -choose it to be, so long as you're with Trader Tom. 'Service,' that's -my motto. It is a way of life with me."</p> - -<p>"Trader Tom? Service?"</p> - -<p>"Yes! That's it exactly. It's <i>me</i> exactly. Trader Tom Service—Serving -the Wants of the Spaceman Between the Stars. Of course, 'stars' is -poetic. Any point of light in the sky in a star. We service the -planets."</p> - -<p>Manet took the tumbler in both hands and drank. It was good whiskey, -immensely powerful. "The government wouldn't pay for somebody serving -the wants of spacemen," he exploded.</p> - -<p>"Ah," Trader Tom said, cautionary. He moved nearer the fire and warmed -his hands and buttocks. "Ah, but I am not a <i>government</i> service. I -represent free enterprise."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Nonsense," Manet said. "No group of private individuals can build a -spaceship. It takes a combine of nations."</p> - -<p>"But remember only that businessmen are reactionary. It's well-known. -Ask anyone on the street. Businessmen are reactionary even beyond the -capitalistic system. Money is a fiction that exists mostly on paper. -They play along on paper to get paper things, but to get real things -they can forego the papers. Comprehend, <i>mon ami</i>? My businessmen -have gone back to the barter system. Between them, they have the raw -materials, the trained men, the man-hours to make a spaceship. So they -make it. Damned reactionaries, all of my principals."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe you," Manet stated flatly. His conversation had grown -blunt with disuse. "What possible profit could your principals turn -from running a trading ship among scattered exploration posts on the -planets? What could you give us that a benevolent government doesn't -already supply us with? And if there was anything, how could we pay for -it? My year's salary wouldn't cover the transportation costs of this -glass of whiskey."</p> - -<p>"Do you find it good whiskey?"</p> - -<p>"Very good."</p> - -<p>"Excellent?"</p> - -<p>"Excellent, if you prefer."</p> - -<p>"I only meant—but never mind. We give you what you want. As for -paying for it—why, forget about the payment. You may apply for a -Trader Tom Credit Card."</p> - -<p>"And I could buy anything that I wanted with it?" Manet demanded. -"That's absurd. I'd never be able to pay for it."</p> - -<p>"That's it precisely!" Trader Tom said with enthusiasm. "You <i>never</i> -pay for it. Charges are merely deducted from your <i>estate</i>."</p> - -<p>"But I may leave no estate!"</p> - -<p>Trader Tom demonstrated his peculiar shrug. "All businesses operate on -a certain margin of risk. That is our worry."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Manet finished the mellow whiskey and looked into the glass. It seemed -to have been polished clean. "What do you have to offer?"</p> - -<p>"Whatever you want?"</p> - -<p>Irritably, "How do I know what I want until I know what you have?"</p> - -<p>"You know."</p> - -<p>"I know? All right, I know. You don't have it for sale."</p> - -<p>"Old chap, understand if you please that I do not only <i>sell</i>. I -am a trader—Trader Tom. I trade with many parties. There are, for -example ... extraterrestrials."</p> - -<p>"Folk legend!"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, <i>mon cher</i>, the only reality it lacks is political -reality. The Assembly could no longer justify their disposition of -the cosmos if it were known they were dealing confiscation without -representation. Come, tell me what you want."</p> - -<p>Manet gave in to it. "I want to be not alone," he said.</p> - -<p>"Of course," Trader Tom replied, "I suspected. It is not so unusual, -you know. Sign here. And here. Two copies. This is yours. Thank you so -much."</p> - -<p>Manet handed back the pen and stared at the laminated card in his hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="600" height="459" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>When he looked up from the card, Manet saw the box. Trader Tom was -pushing it across the floor towards him.</p> - -<p>The box had the general dimensions of a coffin, but it wasn't -wood—only brightly illustrated cardboard. There was a large four-color -picture on the lid showing men, women and children moving through a -busy city street. The red and blue letters said:</p> - -<p class="ph3">LIFO<br /> -<i>The Socialization Kit</i></p> - -<p>"It is commercialized," Trader Tom admitted with no little chagrin. -"It is presented to appeal to a twelve-year-old child, an erotic, -aggressive twelve-year-old, the typical sensie goer—but that is -reality. It offends men of good taste like ourselves, yet sometimes it -approaches being art. We must accept it."</p> - -<p>"What's the cost?" Manet asked. "Before I accept it, I have to know the -charges."</p> - -<p>"You never know the cost. Only your executor knows that. It's the -Trader Tom plan."</p> - -<p>"Well, is it guaranteed?"</p> - -<p>"There are no guarantees," Trader Tom admitted. "But I've never had any -complaints yet."</p> - -<p>"Suppose I'm the first?" Manet suggested reasonably.</p> - -<p>"You won't be," Trader Tom said. "I won't pass this way again."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Manet didn't open the box. He let it fade quietly in the filtered but -still brilliant sunlight near a transparent wall.</p> - -<p>Manet puttered around the spawning monster, trying to brush the copper -taste of the station out of his mouth in the mornings, talking to -himself, winking at Annie Oakley, and waiting to go mad.</p> - -<p>Finally, Manet woke up one morning. He lay in the sheets of his bunk, -suppressing the urge to go wash his hands, and came at last to the -conclusion that, after all the delay, he was mad.</p> - -<p>So he went to open the box.</p> - -<p>The cardboard lid seemed to have become both brittle and rotten. It -crumbled as easily as ideals. But Manet was old enough to remember the -boxes Japanese toys came in when he was a boy, and was not alarmed.</p> - -<p>The contents were such a glorious pile of junk, of bottles from old -chemistry sets, of pieces from old Erector sets, of nameless things and -unremembered antiques from neglected places, that it seemed too good to -have been assembled commercially. It was the collection of lifetime.</p> - -<p>On top of everything was a paperbound book, the size of the <i>Reader's -Digest</i>, covered in rippled gray flexiboard. The title was stamped in -black on the spine and cover: <i>The Making of Friends</i>.</p> - -<p>Manet opened the book and, turning one blank page, found the title -in larger print and slightly amplified: <i>The Making of Friends and -Others</i>. There was no author listed. A further line of information -stated: "A Manual for Lifo, The Socialization Kit." At the bottom of -the title page, the publisher was identified as: LIFO KIT CO., LTD., -SYRACUSE.</p> - -<p>The unnumbered first chapter was headed <i>Your First Friend</i>.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Before you go further, first find the <i>Modifier</i> in your kit. This -is <i>vital</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<p>He quickly riffled through the pages. <i>Other Friends, Authority, A -Companion</i>.... Then <i>The Final Model</i>. Manet tried to flip past this -section, but the pages after the sheet labeled <i>The Final Model</i> were -stuck together. More than stuck. There was a thick slab of plastic in -the back of the book. The edges were ridged as if there were pages to -this section, but they could only be the tracks of lame ants.</p> - -<p>Manet flipped back to page one.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>First find the <i>Modifier</i> in your kit. This is <i>vital</i> to your entire -experiment in socialization. The <i>Modifier is Part #A-1</i> on the Master -Chart.</p></blockquote> - -<p>He prowled through the box looking for some kind of a chart. There -was nothing that looked like a chart inside. He retrieved the lid and -looked at its inside. Nothing. He tipped the box and looked at its -outside. Not a thing. There was always something missing from kits. -Maybe even the <i>Modifier</i> itself.</p> - -<p>He read on, and probed and scattered the parts in the long box. He -studied the manual intently and groped out with his free hand.</p> - -<p>The toe bone was connected to the foot bone....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="346" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The Red King sat smugly in his diagonal corner.</p> - -<p>The Black King stood two places away, his top half tipsy in frustration.</p> - -<p>The Red King crabbed sideways one square.</p> - -<p>The Black King pounced forward one space.</p> - -<p>The Red King advanced backwards to face the enemy.</p> - -<p>The Black King shuffled sideways.</p> - -<p>The Red King followed....</p> - -<p>Uselessly.</p> - -<p>"Tie game," Ronald said.</p> - -<p>"Tie game," Manet said.</p> - -<p>"Let's talk," Ronald said cheerfully. He was always cheerful.</p> - -<p>Cheerfulness was a personality trait Manet had thumbed out for him. -Cheerful. Submissive. Co-operative. Manet had selected these factors in -order to make Ronald as different a person from himself as possible.</p> - -<p>"The Korean-American War was the greatest of all wars," Ronald said -pontifically.</p> - -<p>"Only in the air," Manet corrected him.</p> - -<p>Intelligence was one of the factors Manet had punched to suppress. -Intelligence. Aggressiveness. Sense of perfection. Ronald couldn't know -any more than Manet, but he could (and did) know less. He had seen to -that when his own encephalograph matrix had programmed Ronald's feeder.</p> - -<p>"There were no dogfights in Korea," Ronald said.</p> - -<p>"I know."</p> - -<p>"The dogfight was a combat of hundreds of planes in a tight area, the -last of which took place near the end of the First World War. The -aerial duel, sometimes inaccurately referred to as a 'dogfight' was not -seen in Korea either. The pilots at supersonic speeds only had time for -single passes at the enemy. Still, I believe, contrary to all experts, -that this took greater skill, man more wedded to machine, than the -leisurely combats of World War One."</p> - -<p>"I know."</p> - -<p>"Daniel Boone was still a crack shot at eight-five. He was said to be -warm, sincere, modest, truthful, respected and rheumatic."</p> - -<p>"I know."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Manet knew it all. He had heard it all before.</p> - -<p>He was so damned sick of hearing about Korean air battles, Daniel -Boone, the literary qualities of ancient sports fiction magazines, -the painting of Norman Rockwell, New York swing, <i>ad nauseum</i>. What a -narrow band of interests! With the whole universe to explore in thought -and concept, why did he have to be trapped with such an unoriginal -human being?</p> - -<p>Of course, Ronald wasn't an original human being. He was a copy.</p> - -<p>Manet had been interested in the Fabulous Forties—Lt. "Hoot" Gibson, -Sam Merwin tennis stories, <i>Saturday Evening Post</i> covers—when he had -first learned of them, and he had learned all about them. He had firm -opinions on all these.</p> - -<p>He yearned for someone to challenge him—to say that <i>Dime Sports</i> had -been nothing but a cheap yellow rag and, why, <i>Sewanee Review</i>, there -had been a magazine for you.</p> - -<p>Manet's only consolidation was that Ronald's tastes were lower than his -own. He patriotically insisted that the American Sabre Jet was superior -to the Mig. He maintained with a straight face that Tommy Dorsey was a -better band man than Benny Goodman. Ronald was a terrific jerk.</p> - -<p>"Ronald," Manet said, "you are a terrific jerk."</p> - -<p>Ronald leaped up immediately and led with his right.</p> - -<p>Manet blocked it deftly and threw a right cross.</p> - -<p>Ronald blocked it deftly, and drove in a right to the navel.</p> - -<p>The two men separated and, puffing like steam locomotives passing the -diesel works, closed again.</p> - -<p>Ronald leaped forward and led with his right.</p> - -<p>Manet stepped inside the swing and lifted an uppercut to the ledge of -Ronald's jaw.</p> - -<p>Ronald pinwheeled to the floor.</p> - -<p>He lifted his bruised head from the deck and worked his reddened mouth. -"Had enough?" he asked Manet.</p> - -<p>Manet dropped his fists to his sides and turned away. "Yes."</p> - -<p>Ronald hopped up lightly. "Another checkers, Billy Boy?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Okay. Anything you want, William, old conquerer."</p> - -<p>Manet scrunched up inside himself in impotent fury.</p> - -<p>Ronald was maddeningly co-operative and peaceful. He would even get in -a fist fight to avoid trouble between them. He would do anything Manet -wanted him to do. He was so utterly damned stupid.</p> - -<p>Manet's eyes orbitted towards the checkerboard.</p> - -<p>But if he were so much more stupid than he, Manet, why was it that -their checker games always ended in a tie?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The calendar said it was Spring on Earth when the radio was activated -for a high-speed information and entertainment transmission.</p> - -<p>The buzzer-flasher activated in the solarium at the same time.</p> - -<p>Manet lay stretched out on his back, naked, in front of the transparent -wall.</p> - -<p>By rolling his eyes back in his head, Manet could see over a hedge of -eyebrows for several hundred flat miles of white sand.</p> - -<p>And several hundred miles of desert could see him.</p> - -<p>For a moment he gloried in the blatant display of his flabby muscles -and patchy sunburn.</p> - -<p>Then he sighed, rolled over to his feet and started trudging toward -Communication.</p> - -<p>He padded down the rib-ridged matted corridor, taking his usual small -pleasure in the kaleidoscopic effect of the spiraling reflections on -the walls of the tubeway.</p> - -<p>As he passed the File Room, he caught the sound of the pounding -vibrations against the stoppered plug of the hatch.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Billy Buddy, let me out of this place!"</p> - -<p>Manet padded on down the hall. He had, he recalled, shoved Ronald -in there on Lincoln's Birthday, a minor ironic twist he appreciated -quietly. He had been waiting in vain for Ronald to run down ever since.</p> - -<p>In Communication, he took a seat and punched the slowed down playback -of the transmission.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Overseers," the Voice said. It was the Voice of the B.B.C. -It irritated Manet. He never understood how the British had got the -space transmissions assignment for the English language. He would have -preferred an American disk-jockey himself, one who appreciated New York -swing.</p> - -<p>"We imagine that you are most interested in how long you shall -be required to stay at your present stations," said the Voice of -God's paternal uncle. "As you on Mars may know, there has been much -discussion as to how long it will require to complete the present -schedule—" there was of course no "K" sound in the word—"for -atmosphere seeding.</p> - -<p>"The original, non-binding estimate at the time of your departure was -18.2 years. However, determining how long it will take our stations -properly to remake the air of Mars is a problem comparable to finding -the age of the Earth. Estimates change as new factors are learned. You -may recall that three years ago the official estimate was changed to -thirty-one years. The recent estimate by certain reactionary sources -of two hundred and seventy-four years is <i>not</i> an official government -estimate. The news for you is good, if you are becoming nostalgic for -home, or not particularly bad if you are counting on drawing your -handsome salary for the time spent on Mars. We have every reason to -believe our <i>original</i> estimate was substantially correct. The total -time is, within limits of error, a flat 18 years."</p> - -<p>A very flat 18 years, Manet thought as he palmed off the recorder.</p> - -<p>He sat there thinking about eighteen years.</p> - -<p>He did not switch to video for some freshly taped westerns.</p> - -<p>Finally, Manet went back to the solarium and dragged the big box out. -There was a lot left inside.</p> - -<p>One of those parts, one of those bones or struts of flesh sprayers, one -of them, he now knew, was the Modifier.</p> - -<p>The Modifier was what he needed to change Ronald. Or to shut him off.</p> - -<p>If only the Master Chart hadn't been lost, so he would know what the -Modifier looked like! He hoped the Modifier itself wasn't lost. He -hated to think of Ronald locked in the Usher tomb of the File Room -for 18 flat years. Long before that, he would have worn his fists away -hammering at the hatch. Then he might start pounding with his head. -Perhaps before the time was up he would have worn himself down to -nothing whatsoever.</p> - -<p>Manet selected the ripple-finished gray-covered manual from the -hodgepodge, and thought: eighteen years.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I should have begun here, he told himself. But I really don't -have as much interest in that sort of thing as the earthier types. -Simple companionship was all I wanted. And, he thought on, even an -insipid personality like Ronald's would be bearable with certain -compensations.</p> - -<p>Manet opened the book to the chapter headed: <i>The Making of a Girl</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Veronica crept up behind Manet and slithered her hands up his back and -over his shoulders. She leaned forward and breathed a moist warmth into -his ear, and worried the lobe with her even white teeth.</p> - -<p>"Daniel Boone," she sighed huskily, "only killed three Indians in his -life."</p> - -<p>"I know."</p> - -<p>Manet folded his arms stoically and added: "Please don't talk."</p> - -<p>She sighed her instant agreement and moved her expressive hands over -his chest and up to the hollows of his throat.</p> - -<p>"I need a shave," he observed.</p> - -<p>Her hands instantly caressed his face to prove that she liked a rather -bristly, masculine countenance.</p> - -<p>Manet elbowed Veronica away in a gentlemanly fashion.</p> - -<p>She made her return.</p> - -<p>"Not now," he instructed her.</p> - -<p>"Whenever you say."</p> - -<p>He stood up and began pacing off the dimensions of the compartment. -There was no doubt about it: he had been missing his regular exercise.</p> - -<p>"Now?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you."</p> - -<p>"If you were a jet pilot," Veronica said wistfully, "you would be -romantic. You would grab love when you could. You would never know -which moment would be last. You would make the most of each one."</p> - -<p>"I'm not a jet pilot," Manet said. "There are no jet pilots. There -haven't been any for generations."</p> - -<p>"Don't be silly," Veronica said. "Who else would stop those vile North -Koreans and Red China 'volunteers'?"</p> - -<p>"Veronica," he said carefully, "the Korean War is over. It was finished -even before the last of the jet pilots."</p> - -<p>"Don't be silly," she snapped. "If it were over, I'd know about it, -wouldn't I?"</p> - -<p>She would, except that somehow she had turned out even less bright, -less equipped with Manet's own store of information, than Ronald. -Whoever had built the Lifo kit must have had ancient ideas about what -constituted appropriate "feminine" characteristics.</p> - -<p>"I suppose," he said heavily, "that you would like me to take you back -to Earth and introduce you to Daniel Boone?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes."</p> - -<p>"Veronica, your stupidity is hideous."</p> - -<p>She lowered her long blonde lashes on her pink cheeks. "That is a mean -thing to say to me. But I forgive you."</p> - -<p>An invisible hand began pressing down steadily on the top of his head -until it forced a sound out of him. "Aaaawrraagggh! Must you be so -cloyingly sweet? Do you have to keep taking that? Isn't there any fight -in you at all?"</p> - -<p>He stepped forward and back-handed her across the jaw.</p> - -<p>It was the first time he had ever struck a woman, he realized -regretfully. He now knew he should have been doing it long ago.</p> - -<p>Veronica sprang forward and led with a right.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ronald's cries grew louder as Manet marched Veronica through the -corridor.</p> - -<p>"Hear that?" he inquired, smiling with clenched teeth.</p> - -<p>"No, darling."</p> - -<p>Well, that was all right. He remembered he had once told her to ignore -the noise. She was still following orders.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Bill, open up the hatch for old Ronald," the voice carried -through sepulchrally.</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" Manet yelled.</p> - -<p>The voice dwindled stubbornly, then cut off.</p> - -<p>A silence with a whisper of metallic ring to it.</p> - -<p>Why hadn't he thought of that before? Maybe because he secretly took -comfort in the sound of an almost human voice echoing through the -station.</p> - -<p>Manet threw back the bolt and wheeled back the hatch.</p> - -<p>Ronald looked just the same as had when Manet had seen him last. His -hands didn't seem to have been worn away in the least. Ronald's lips -seemed a trifle chapped. But that probably came not from all the -shouting but from having nothing to drink for some months.</p> - -<p>Ronald didn't say anything to Manet.</p> - -<p>But he looked offended.</p> - -<p>"You," Manet said to Veronica with a shove in the small of the back, -"inside, inside."</p> - -<p>Ronald sidestepped the lurching girl.</p> - -<p>"Do you know what I'm going to do with you?" Manet demanded. "I'm going -to lock you up in here, and leave you for a day, a month, a year, -forever! Now what do you think about that?"</p> - -<p>"If you think it's the <i>right</i> thing, dear," Veronica said hesitantly.</p> - -<p>"You know best, Willy," Ronald said uncertainly.</p> - -<p>Manet slammed the hatch in disgust.</p> - -<p>Manet walked carefully down the corridor, watching streamers of -his reflection corkscrewing into the curved walls. He had to walk -carefully, else the artery would roll up tight and squash him. But he -walked too carefully for this to happen.</p> - -<p>As he passed the File Room, Ronald's voice said: "In my opinion, -William, you should let us out."</p> - -<p>"I," Veronica said, "honestly feel that you should let me out, Bill, -dearest."</p> - -<p>Manet giggled. "What? What was that? Do you suggest that I take you -back after you've been behind a locked door with my best friend?"</p> - -<p>He went down the corridor, giggling.</p> - -<p>He giggled and thought: This will never do.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Pouring and tumbling through the Lifo kit, consulting the manual -diligently, Manet concluded that there weren't enough parts left in the -box to go around.</p> - -<p>The book gave instructions for The Model Mother, The Model Father, The -Model Sibling and others. Yet there weren't parts enough in the kit.</p> - -<p>He would have to take parts from Ronald or Veronica in order to make -any one of the others. And he could not do that without the Modifier.</p> - -<p>He wished Trader Tom would return and extract some higher price from -him for the Modifier, which was clearly missing from the kit.</p> - -<p>Or to get even more for simply repossessing the kit.</p> - -<p>But Trader Tom would not be back. He came this way only once.</p> - -<p>Manet thumbed through the manual in mechanical frustration. As he did -so, the solid piece of the last section parted sheet by sheet.</p> - -<p>He glanced forward and found the headings: <i>The Final Model</i>.</p> - -<p>There seemed something ominous about that finality. But he had paid -a price for the kit, hadn't he? Who knew what price, when it came to -that? He had every right to get everything out of the kit that he -could.</p> - -<p>He read the unfolding page critically. The odd assortment of -ill-matched parts left in the box took a new shape in his mind and -under his fingers....</p> - -<p>Manet gave one final spurt from the flesh-sprayer and stood back.</p> - -<p>Victor was finished. Perfect.</p> - -<p>Manet stepped forward, lifted the model's left eyelid, tweaked his nose.</p> - -<p>"Move!"</p> - -<p>Victor leaped back into the Lifo kit and did a jig on one of the -flesh-sprayers.</p> - -<p>As the device twisted as handily as good intentions, Manet realized -that it was not a flesh-sprayer but the Modifier.</p> - -<p>"It's finished!" were Victor's first words. "It's done!"</p> - -<p>Manet stared at the tiny wreck. "To say the least."</p> - -<p>Victor stepped out of the oblong box. "There is something you should -understand. I am different from the others."</p> - -<p>"They all say that."</p> - -<p>"I am not your friend."</p> - -<p>"No?"</p> - -<p>"No. You have made yourself an enemy."</p> - -<p>Manet felt nothing more at this information than an esthetic pleasure -at the symmetry of the situation.</p> - -<p>"It completes the final course in socialization," Victor continued. "I -am your adversary. I will do everything I can to defeat you. I have -<i>all</i> your knowledge. <i>You</i> do not have all your knowledge. If you let -yourself know some of the things, it could be used against you. It is -my function to use everything I possibly can against you."</p> - -<p>"When do you start?"</p> - -<p>"I've finished. I've done my worst. I have destroyed the Modifier."</p> - -<p>"What's so bad about that?" Manet asked with some interest.</p> - -<p>"You'll have Veronica and Ronald and me forever now. We'll never -change. You'll get older, and we'll never change. You'll lose your -interest in New York swing and jet combat and Daniel Boone, and we'll -never change. We don't change and you can't change us for others. I've -made the worst thing happen to you that can happen to any man. <i>I've -seen that you will always keep your friends.</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The prospect <i>was</i> frightful.</p> - -<p>Victor smiled. "Aren't you going to denounce me for a fiend?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is time for the denouncement. Tell me, you feel that now you -are through? You have fulfilled your function?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Yes."</p> - -<p>"Now you will have but to lean back, as it were, so to speak, and see -me suffer?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Yes.</i>"</p> - -<p>"No. Can't do it, old man. Can't. <i>I</i> know. You're too human, too -like me. The one thing a man can't accept is a passive state, a state -of uselessness. Not if he can possibly avoid it. Something has to be -happening to him. He has to be happening to something. You didn't kill -me because then you would have nothing left to do. You'll never kill -me."</p> - -<p>"Of course not!" Victor stormed. "Fundamental safety cut-off!"</p> - -<p>"Rationalization. You don't <i>want</i> to kill me. And you can't stop -challenging me at every turn. That's your function."</p> - -<p>"Stop talking and just think about your miserable life," Victor said -meanly. "Your friends won't grow and mature with you. You won't make -any new friends. You'll have me to constantly remind you of your -uselessness, your constant unrelenting sterility of purpose. How's that -for boredom, for passiveness?"</p> - -<p>"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Manet said irritably, his social -manners rusty. "I won't be bored. You will see to that. It's your -purpose. You'll be a challenge, an obstacle, a source of triumph every -foot of the way. Don't you see? With you for an enemy, I don't need a -friend!"</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of How to Make Friends, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS *** - -***** This file should be named 50818-h.htm or 50818-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/8/1/50818/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan 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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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/license - - -Title: How to Make Friends - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: January 1, 2016 [EBook #50818] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - -HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS - -By JIM HARMON - -Illustrated by WEST - -[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine -October 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the -U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Every lonely man tries to make friends. Manet just didn't know when to -stop! - - -William Manet was alone. - -In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It would -give him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlate -loneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take him -to start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to begin -teaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminable -lectures to a bored and captive audience of one. - -He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whether -it was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and as -dirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal and -think more like a god than any man for generations. - -But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearing -bore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it. - -Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was already -talking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he had -cut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up and -winked at it whenever he passed that way. - -Lately she was winking back at him. - -Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh from -his arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity. - -No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manet -could only be this lonely on Mars. - -Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human. - -All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middle -of the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat, -flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in the -black sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moons -and one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The whole -gimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one was -needed here--no human being, at least. - -The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn't -take much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefully -specified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycomb -Mars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization. - -They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated people -for the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going to -isolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manet -and his fellows. - -The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fare -to Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuter -service for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodations -for couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren't -providing fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits between -the various Overseers. They weren't very providential. - -But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offered -wonderful opportunities. - -It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship making -a tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning as -bright as envy. - -<tb> - -Manet suspected hallucination, but in an existence with all the pallid -dispassion of a requited love he was happy to welcome dementia. -Sometimes he even manufactured it. Sometimes he would run through the -arteries of the factory and play that it had suddenly gone mad hating -human beings, and was about to close down its bulkheads on him as sure -as the Engineers' Thumb and bale up the pressure-dehydrated digest, -making so much stall flooring of him. He ran until he dropped with a -kind of climaxing release of terror. - -So Manet put on the pressure suit he had been given because he would -never need it, and marched out to meet the visiting spaceship. - -He wasn't quite clear how he came from walking effortlessly across -the Martian plain that had all the distance-perpetuating qualities of -a kid's crank movie machine to the comfortable interior of a strange -cabin. Not a ship's cabin but a Northwoods cabin. - -The black and orange Hallowe'en log charring in the slate stone -fireplace seemed real. So did the lean man with the smiling mustache -painted with the random designs of the fire, standing before the -horizontal pattern of chinked wall. - -"Need a fresher?" the host inquired. - -Manet's eyes wondered down to heavy water tumbler full of rich, amber -whiskey full of sparks from the hearth. He stirred himself in the -comfortingly warm leather chair. "No, no, I'm <i>fine</i>." He let the word -hang there for examination. "Pardon me, but could you tell me just what -place this is?" - -The host shrugged. It was the only word for it. "Whatever place you -choose it to be, so long as you're with Trader Tom. 'Service,' that's -my motto. It is a way of life with me." - -"Trader Tom? Service?" - -"Yes! That's it exactly. It's <i>me</i> exactly. Trader Tom Service--Serving -the Wants of the Spaceman Between the Stars. Of course, 'stars' is -poetic. Any point of light in the sky in a star. We service the -planets." - -Manet took the tumbler in both hands and drank. It was good whiskey, -immensely powerful. "The government wouldn't pay for somebody serving -the wants of spacemen," he exploded. - -"Ah," Trader Tom said, cautionary. He moved nearer the fire and warmed -his hands and buttocks. "Ah, but I am not a <i>government</i> service. I -represent free enterprise." - -<tb> - -"Nonsense," Manet said. "No group of private individuals can build a -spaceship. It takes a combine of nations." - -"But remember only that businessmen are reactionary. It's well-known. -Ask anyone on the street. Businessmen are reactionary even beyond the -capitalistic system. Money is a fiction that exists mostly on paper. -They play along on paper to get paper things, but to get real things -they can forego the papers. Comprehend, <i>mon ami</i>? My businessmen -have gone back to the barter system. Between them, they have the raw -materials, the trained men, the man-hours to make a spaceship. So they -make it. Damned reactionaries, all of my principals." - -"I don't believe you," Manet stated flatly. His conversation had grown -blunt with disuse. "What possible profit could your principals turn -from running a trading ship among scattered exploration posts on the -planets? What could you give us that a benevolent government doesn't -already supply us with? And if there was anything, how could we pay for -it? My year's salary wouldn't cover the transportation costs of this -glass of whiskey." - -"Do you find it good whiskey?" - -"Very good." - -"Excellent?" - -"Excellent, if you prefer." - -"I only meant--but never mind. We give you what you want. As for -paying for it--why, forget about the payment. You may apply for a -Trader Tom Credit Card." - -"And I could buy anything that I wanted with it?" Manet demanded. -"That's absurd. I'd never be able to pay for it." - -"That's it precisely!" Trader Tom said with enthusiasm. "You <i>never</i> -pay for it. Charges are merely deducted from your <i>estate</i>." - -"But I may leave no estate!" - -Trader Tom demonstrated his peculiar shrug. "All businesses operate on -a certain margin of risk. That is our worry." - -<tb> - -Manet finished the mellow whiskey and looked into the glass. It seemed -to have been polished clean. "What do you have to offer?" - -"Whatever you want?" - -Irritably, "How do I know what I want until I know what you have?" - -"You know." - -"I know? All right, I know. You don't have it for sale." - -"Old chap, understand if you please that I do not only <i>sell</i>. I -am a trader--Trader Tom. I trade with many parties. There are, for -example ... extraterrestrials." - -"Folk legend!" - -"On the contrary, <i>mon cher</i>, the only reality it lacks is political -reality. The Assembly could no longer justify their disposition of -the cosmos if it were known they were dealing confiscation without -representation. Come, tell me what you want." - -Manet gave in to it. "I want to be not alone," he said. - -"Of course," Trader Tom replied, "I suspected. It is not so unusual, -you know. Sign here. And here. Two copies. This is yours. Thank you so -much." - -Manet handed back the pen and stared at the laminated card in his hand. - -/P - +-------------------------------------+ - | TRADER TOM CREDIT CARD | - | | - | <i>Good for Anything</i> | - | | - | A-1 9*8*7*6*5*4*3*2***** | - | | - | WM. M<i>a</i>N<i>e</i>T /--<i>rader</i> /--<i>om</i> | - | | - | .............. | - | (Sign Here) Trader Tom | - +-------------------------------------+ -P/ - -When he looked up from the card, Manet saw the box. Trader Tom was -pushing it across the floor towards him. - -The box had the general dimensions of a coffin, but it wasn't -wood--only brightly illustrated cardboard. There was a large four-color -picture on the lid showing men, women and children moving through a -busy city street. The red and blue letters said: - -/P - LIFO - <i>The Socialization Kit</i> -P/ - -"It is commercialized," Trader Tom admitted with no little chagrin. -"It is presented to appeal to a twelve-year-old child, an erotic, -aggressive twelve-year-old, the typical sensie goer--but that is -reality. It offends men of good taste like ourselves, yet sometimes it -approaches being art. We must accept it." - -"What's the cost?" Manet asked. "Before I accept it, I have to know the -charges." - -"You never know the cost. Only your executor knows that. It's the -Trader Tom plan." - -"Well, is it guaranteed?" - -"There are no guarantees," Trader Tom admitted. "But I've never had any -complaints yet." - -"Suppose I'm the first?" Manet suggested reasonably. - -"You won't be," Trader Tom said. "I won't pass this way again." - -<tb> - -Manet didn't open the box. He let it fade quietly in the filtered but -still brilliant sunlight near a transparent wall. - -Manet puttered around the spawning monster, trying to brush the copper -taste of the station out of his mouth in the mornings, talking to -himself, winking at Annie Oakley, and waiting to go mad. - -Finally, Manet woke up one morning. He lay in the sheets of his bunk, -suppressing the urge to go wash his hands, and came at last to the -conclusion that, after all the delay, he was mad. - -So he went to open the box. - -The cardboard lid seemed to have become both brittle and rotten. It -crumbled as easily as ideals. But Manet was old enough to remember the -boxes Japanese toys came in when he was a boy, and was not alarmed. - -The contents were such a glorious pile of junk, of bottles from old -chemistry sets, of pieces from old Erector sets, of nameless things and -unremembered antiques from neglected places, that it seemed too good to -have been assembled commercially. It was the collection of lifetime. - -On top of everything was a paperbound book, the size of the <i>Reader's -Digest</i>, covered in rippled gray flexiboard. The title was stamped in -black on the spine and cover: <i>The Making of Friends</i>. - -Manet opened the book and, turning one blank page, found the title -in larger print and slightly amplified: <i>The Making of Friends and -Others</i>. There was no author listed. A further line of information -stated: "A Manual for Lifo, The Socialization Kit." At the bottom of -the title page, the publisher was identified as: LIFO KIT CO., LTD., -SYRACUSE. - -The unnumbered first chapter was headed <i>Your First Friend</i>. - -/# -Before you go further, first find the <i>Modifier</i> in your kit. This -is <i>vital</i>. -#/ - -He quickly riffled through the pages. <i>Other Friends, Authority, A -Companion</i>.... Then <i>The Final Model</i>. Manet tried to flip past this -section, but the pages after the sheet labeled <i>The Final Model</i> were -stuck together. More than stuck. There was a thick slab of plastic in -the back of the book. The edges were ridged as if there were pages to -this section, but they could only be the tracks of lame ants. - -Manet flipped back to page one. - -/# - First find the <i>Modifier</i> in your kit. This is <i>vital</i> to your entire - experiment in socialization. The <i>Modifier is Part #A-1</i> on the Master - Chart. -#/ - -He prowled through the box looking for some kind of a chart. There -was nothing that looked like a chart inside. He retrieved the lid and -looked at its inside. Nothing. He tipped the box and looked at its -outside. Not a thing. There was always something missing from kits. -Maybe even the <i>Modifier</i> itself. - -He read on, and probed and scattered the parts in the long box. He -studied the manual intently and groped out with his free hand. - -The toe bone was connected to the foot bone.... - -<tb> - -The Red King sat smugly in his diagonal corner. - -The Black King stood two places away, his top half tipsy in frustration. - -The Red King crabbed sideways one square. - -The Black King pounced forward one space. - -The Red King advanced backwards to face the enemy. - -The Black King shuffled sideways. - -The Red King followed.... - -Uselessly. - -"Tie game," Ronald said. - -"Tie game," Manet said. - -"Let's talk," Ronald said cheerfully. He was always cheerful. - -Cheerfulness was a personality trait Manet had thumbed out for him. -Cheerful. Submissive. Co-operative. Manet had selected these factors in -order to make Ronald as different a person from himself as possible. - -"The Korean-American War was the greatest of all wars," Ronald said -pontifically. - -"Only in the air," Manet corrected him. - -Intelligence was one of the factors Manet had punched to suppress. -Intelligence. Aggressiveness. Sense of perfection. Ronald couldn't know -any more than Manet, but he could (and did) know less. He had seen to -that when his own encephalograph matrix had programmed Ronald's feeder. - -"There were no dogfights in Korea," Ronald said. - -"I know." - -"The dogfight was a combat of hundreds of planes in a tight area, the -last of which took place near the end of the First World War. The -aerial duel, sometimes inaccurately referred to as a 'dogfight' was not -seen in Korea either. The pilots at supersonic speeds only had time for -single passes at the enemy. Still, I believe, contrary to all experts, -that this took greater skill, man more wedded to machine, than the -leisurely combats of World War One." - -"I know." - -"Daniel Boone was still a crack shot at eight-five. He was said to be -warm, sincere, modest, truthful, respected and rheumatic." - -"I know." - -<tb> - -Manet knew it all. He had heard it all before. - -He was so damned sick of hearing about Korean air battles, Daniel -Boone, the literary qualities of ancient sports fiction magazines, -the painting of Norman Rockwell, New York swing, <i>ad nauseum</i>. What a -narrow band of interests! With the whole universe to explore in thought -and concept, why did he have to be trapped with such an unoriginal -human being? - -Of course, Ronald wasn't an original human being. He was a copy. - -Manet had been interested in the Fabulous Forties--Lt. "Hoot" Gibson, -Sam Merwin tennis stories, <i>Saturday Evening Post</i> covers--when he had -first learned of them, and he had learned all about them. He had firm -opinions on all these. - -He yearned for someone to challenge him--to say that <i>Dime Sports</i> had -been nothing but a cheap yellow rag and, why, <i>Sewanee Review</i>, there -had been a magazine for you. - -Manet's only consolidation was that Ronald's tastes were lower than his -own. He patriotically insisted that the American Sabre Jet was superior -to the Mig. He maintained with a straight face that Tommy Dorsey was a -better band man than Benny Goodman. Ronald was a terrific jerk. - -"Ronald," Manet said, "you are a terrific jerk." - -Ronald leaped up immediately and led with his right. - -Manet blocked it deftly and threw a right cross. - -Ronald blocked it deftly, and drove in a right to the navel. - -The two men separated and, puffing like steam locomotives passing the -diesel works, closed again. - -Ronald leaped forward and led with his right. - -Manet stepped inside the swing and lifted an uppercut to the ledge of -Ronald's jaw. - -Ronald pinwheeled to the floor. - -He lifted his bruised head from the deck and worked his reddened mouth. -"Had enough?" he asked Manet. - -Manet dropped his fists to his sides and turned away. "Yes." - -Ronald hopped up lightly. "Another checkers, Billy Boy?" - -"No." - -"Okay. Anything you want, William, old conquerer." - -Manet scrunched up inside himself in impotent fury. - -Ronald was maddeningly co-operative and peaceful. He would even get in -a fist fight to avoid trouble between them. He would do anything Manet -wanted him to do. He was so utterly damned stupid. - -Manet's eyes orbitted towards the checkerboard. - -But if he were so much more stupid than he, Manet, why was it that -their checker games always ended in a tie? - -<tb> - -The calendar said it was Spring on Earth when the radio was activated -for a high-speed information and entertainment transmission. - -The buzzer-flasher activated in the solarium at the same time. - -Manet lay stretched out on his back, naked, in front of the transparent -wall. - -By rolling his eyes back in his head, Manet could see over a hedge of -eyebrows for several hundred flat miles of white sand. - -And several hundred miles of desert could see him. - -For a moment he gloried in the blatant display of his flabby muscles -and patchy sunburn. - -Then he sighed, rolled over to his feet and started trudging toward -Communication. - -He padded down the rib-ridged matted corridor, taking his usual small -pleasure in the kaleidoscopic effect of the spiraling reflections on -the walls of the tubeway. - -As he passed the File Room, he caught the sound of the pounding -vibrations against the stoppered plug of the hatch. - -"Come on, Billy Buddy, let me out of this place!" - -Manet padded on down the hall. He had, he recalled, shoved Ronald -in there on Lincoln's Birthday, a minor ironic twist he appreciated -quietly. He had been waiting in vain for Ronald to run down ever since. - -In Communication, he took a seat and punched the slowed down playback -of the transmission. - -"Hello, Overseers," the Voice said. It was the Voice of the B.B.C. -It irritated Manet. He never understood how the British had got the -space transmissions assignment for the English language. He would have -preferred an American disk-jockey himself, one who appreciated New York -swing. - -"We imagine that you are most interested in how long you shall -be required to stay at your present stations," said the Voice of -God's paternal uncle. "As you on Mars may know, there has been much -discussion as to how long it will require to complete the present -schedule--" there was of course no "K" sound in the word--"for -atmosphere seeding. - -"The original, non-binding estimate at the time of your departure was -18.2 years. However, determining how long it will take our stations -properly to remake the air of Mars is a problem comparable to finding -the age of the Earth. Estimates change as new factors are learned. You -may recall that three years ago the official estimate was changed to -thirty-one years. The recent estimate by certain reactionary sources -of two hundred and seventy-four years is <i>not</i> an official government -estimate. The news for you is good, if you are becoming nostalgic for -home, or not particularly bad if you are counting on drawing your -handsome salary for the time spent on Mars. We have every reason to -believe our <i>original</i> estimate was substantially correct. The total -time is, within limits of error, a flat 18 years." - -A very flat 18 years, Manet thought as he palmed off the recorder. - -He sat there thinking about eighteen years. - -He did not switch to video for some freshly taped westerns. - -Finally, Manet went back to the solarium and dragged the big box out. -There was a lot left inside. - -One of those parts, one of those bones or struts of flesh sprayers, one -of them, he now knew, was the Modifier. - -The Modifier was what he needed to change Ronald. Or to shut him off. - -If only the Master Chart hadn't been lost, so he would know what the -Modifier looked like! He hoped the Modifier itself wasn't lost. He -hated to think of Ronald locked in the Usher tomb of the File Room -for 18 flat years. Long before that, he would have worn his fists away -hammering at the hatch. Then he might start pounding with his head. -Perhaps before the time was up he would have worn himself down to -nothing whatsoever. - -Manet selected the ripple-finished gray-covered manual from the -hodgepodge, and thought: eighteen years. - -Perhaps I should have begun here, he told himself. But I really don't -have as much interest in that sort of thing as the earthier types. -Simple companionship was all I wanted. And, he thought on, even an -insipid personality like Ronald's would be bearable with certain -compensations. - -Manet opened the book to the chapter headed: <i>The Making of a Girl</i>. - -<tb> - -Veronica crept up behind Manet and slithered her hands up his back and -over his shoulders. She leaned forward and breathed a moist warmth into -his ear, and worried the lobe with her even white teeth. - -"Daniel Boone," she sighed huskily, "only killed three Indians in his -life." - -"I know." - -Manet folded his arms stoically and added: "Please don't talk." - -She sighed her instant agreement and moved her expressive hands over -his chest and up to the hollows of his throat. - -"I need a shave," he observed. - -Her hands instantly caressed his face to prove that she liked a rather -bristly, masculine countenance. - -Manet elbowed Veronica away in a gentlemanly fashion. - -She made her return. - -"Not now," he instructed her. - -"Whenever you say." - -He stood up and began pacing off the dimensions of the compartment. -There was no doubt about it: he had been missing his regular exercise. - -"Now?" she asked. - -"I'll tell you." - -"If you were a jet pilot," Veronica said wistfully, "you would be -romantic. You would grab love when you could. You would never know -which moment would be last. You would make the most of each one." - -"I'm not a jet pilot," Manet said. "There are no jet pilots. There -haven't been any for generations." - -"Don't be silly," Veronica said. "Who else would stop those vile North -Koreans and Red China 'volunteers'?" - -"Veronica," he said carefully, "the Korean War is over. It was finished -even before the last of the jet pilots." - -"Don't be silly," she snapped. "If it were over, I'd know about it, -wouldn't I?" - -She would, except that somehow she had turned out even less bright, -less equipped with Manet's own store of information, than Ronald. -Whoever had built the Lifo kit must have had ancient ideas about what -constituted appropriate "feminine" characteristics. - -"I suppose," he said heavily, "that you would like me to take you back -to Earth and introduce you to Daniel Boone?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"Veronica, your stupidity is hideous." - -She lowered her long blonde lashes on her pink cheeks. "That is a mean -thing to say to me. But I forgive you." - -An invisible hand began pressing down steadily on the top of his head -until it forced a sound out of him. "Aaaawrraagggh! Must you be so -cloyingly sweet? Do you have to keep taking that? Isn't there any fight -in you at all?" - -He stepped forward and back-handed her across the jaw. - -It was the first time he had ever struck a woman, he realized -regretfully. He now knew he should have been doing it long ago. - -Veronica sprang forward and led with a right. - -<tb> - -Ronald's cries grew louder as Manet marched Veronica through the -corridor. - -"Hear that?" he inquired, smiling with clenched teeth. - -"No, darling." - -Well, that was all right. He remembered he had once told her to ignore -the noise. She was still following orders. - -"Come on, Bill, open up the hatch for old Ronald," the voice carried -through sepulchrally. - -"Shut up!" Manet yelled. - -The voice dwindled stubbornly, then cut off. - -A silence with a whisper of metallic ring to it. - -Why hadn't he thought of that before? Maybe because he secretly took -comfort in the sound of an almost human voice echoing through the -station. - -Manet threw back the bolt and wheeled back the hatch. - -Ronald looked just the same as had when Manet had seen him last. His -hands didn't seem to have been worn away in the least. Ronald's lips -seemed a trifle chapped. But that probably came not from all the -shouting but from having nothing to drink for some months. - -Ronald didn't say anything to Manet. - -But he looked offended. - -"You," Manet said to Veronica with a shove in the small of the back, -"inside, inside." - -Ronald sidestepped the lurching girl. - -"Do you know what I'm going to do with you?" Manet demanded. "I'm going -to lock you up in here, and leave you for a day, a month, a year, -forever! Now what do you think about that?" - -"If you think it's the <i>right</i> thing, dear," Veronica said hesitantly. - -"You know best, Willy," Ronald said uncertainly. - -Manet slammed the hatch in disgust. - -Manet walked carefully down the corridor, watching streamers of -his reflection corkscrewing into the curved walls. He had to walk -carefully, else the artery would roll up tight and squash him. But he -walked too carefully for this to happen. - -As he passed the File Room, Ronald's voice said: "In my opinion, -William, you should let us out." - -"I," Veronica said, "honestly feel that you should let me out, Bill, -dearest." - -Manet giggled. "What? What was that? Do you suggest that I take you -back after you've been behind a locked door with my best friend?" - -He went down the corridor, giggling. - -He giggled and thought: This will never do. - -<tb> - -Pouring and tumbling through the Lifo kit, consulting the manual -diligently, Manet concluded that there weren't enough parts left in the -box to go around. - -The book gave instructions for The Model Mother, The Model Father, The -Model Sibling and others. Yet there weren't parts enough in the kit. - -He would have to take parts from Ronald or Veronica in order to make -any one of the others. And he could not do that without the Modifier. - -He wished Trader Tom would return and extract some higher price from -him for the Modifier, which was clearly missing from the kit. - -Or to get even more for simply repossessing the kit. - -But Trader Tom would not be back. He came this way only once. - -Manet thumbed through the manual in mechanical frustration. As he did -so, the solid piece of the last section parted sheet by sheet. - -He glanced forward and found the headings: <i>The Final Model</i>. - -There seemed something ominous about that finality. But he had paid -a price for the kit, hadn't he? Who knew what price, when it came to -that? He had every right to get everything out of the kit that he -could. - -He read the unfolding page critically. The odd assortment of -ill-matched parts left in the box took a new shape in his mind and -under his fingers.... - -Manet gave one final spurt from the flesh-sprayer and stood back. - -Victor was finished. Perfect. - -Manet stepped forward, lifted the model's left eyelid, tweaked his nose. - -"Move!" - -Victor leaped back into the Lifo kit and did a jig on one of the -flesh-sprayers. - -As the device twisted as handily as good intentions, Manet realized -that it was not a flesh-sprayer but the Modifier. - -"It's finished!" were Victor's first words. "It's done!" - -Manet stared at the tiny wreck. "To say the least." - -Victor stepped out of the oblong box. "There is something you should -understand. I am different from the others." - -"They all say that." - -"I am not your friend." - -"No?" - -"No. You have made yourself an enemy." - -Manet felt nothing more at this information than an esthetic pleasure -at the symmetry of the situation. - -"It completes the final course in socialization," Victor continued. "I -am your adversary. I will do everything I can to defeat you. I have -<i>all</i> your knowledge. <i>You</i> do not have all your knowledge. If you let -yourself know some of the things, it could be used against you. It is -my function to use everything I possibly can against you." - -"When do you start?" - -"I've finished. I've done my worst. I have destroyed the Modifier." - -"What's so bad about that?" Manet asked with some interest. - -"You'll have Veronica and Ronald and me forever now. We'll never -change. You'll get older, and we'll never change. You'll lose your -interest in New York swing and jet combat and Daniel Boone, and we'll -never change. We don't change and you can't change us for others. I've -made the worst thing happen to you that can happen to any man. <i>I've -seen that you will always keep your friends.</i>" - -<tb> - -The prospect <i>was</i> frightful. - -Victor smiled. "Aren't you going to denounce me for a fiend?" - -"Yes, it is time for the denouncement. Tell me, you feel that now you -are through? You have fulfilled your function?" - -"Yes. Yes." - -"Now you will have but to lean back, as it were, so to speak, and see -me suffer?" - -"<i>Yes.</i>" - -"No. Can't do it, old man. Can't. <i>I</i> know. You're too human, too -like me. The one thing a man can't accept is a passive state, a state -of uselessness. Not if he can possibly avoid it. Something has to be -happening to him. He has to be happening to something. You didn't kill -me because then you would have nothing left to do. You'll never kill -me." - -"Of course not!" Victor stormed. "Fundamental safety cut-off!" - -"Rationalization. You don't <i>want</i> to kill me. And you can't stop -challenging me at every turn. That's your function." - -"Stop talking and just think about your miserable life," Victor said -meanly. "Your friends won't grow and mature with you. You won't make -any new friends. You'll have me to constantly remind you of your -uselessness, your constant unrelenting sterility of purpose. How's that -for boredom, for passiveness?" - -"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Manet said irritably, his social -manners rusty. "I won't be bored. You will see to that. It's your -purpose. You'll be a challenge, an obstacle, a source of triumph every -foot of the way. Don't you see? With you for an enemy, I don't need a -friend!" - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of How to Make Friends, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS *** - -***** This file should be named 50818.txt or 50818.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/8/1/50818/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan 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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