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diff --git a/59728-0.txt b/59728-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23b1956 --- /dev/null +++ b/59728-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2595 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59728 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + Abbr. + + BY FRANK RILEY + + _Brevity was the new watchword. + Vrythg dgstd stht lsrcdb njyd._ + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1957. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +Walther Von Koenigsburg woke up a few moments after the earth shuttle +had passed Venus. As he gazed back at the lonely, shrouded planet, +abandoned long ago when Man won freedom to colonize more habitable +worlds in deep space, Walther realized that in just a matter of minutes +his long pilgrimage would be over. Soon he would walk down the ramp and +set foot on Earth--the almost mythical homeland of his people. Walther +was young enough, and old enough, not to be ashamed of the sudden +choking in his throat, the moisture in his eyes. + +A light touch on his shoulder brought him back to the shuttle ship. The +pert stewardess smiled at his start. + +"Wyslgsr," she asked pleasantly. + +Or at least that's what it sounded like to Walther, whose ears were +still ringing from the take off at the Cyngus III shuttleport. + +"I beg your pardon," he began. "I'm afraid...." + +For a moment she looked startled, then her full, red lips parted in +another bright smile. + +"Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize ... I just asked, +Sir, whether you had been sleeping." + +She spoke with the mechanical, stilted perfection he had first noted +when transferring from the Aldebaran liner at the shuttleport. He had +wondered, briefly, about the source of the accent, but had been too +polite to ask. + +The stewardess put a small pillow in his lap, then placed a tray on +it. The recessed compartments of the tray held a cup of steaming black +coffee, a piece of pastry that reminded Walther of apfelstrudel, and a +paper-covered booklet entitled: "Easy Earth Dictionary and Orientation +Manual". Stamped on the cover, in the manner of an official seal, were +the words: "Prepared under the authorization of Happy Time, Ltd." + +"Thank you," said Walther, then he grinned buoyantly, eager to share +these moments of excitement at being so close to Earth. "But I don't +think I'll need the dictionary!" + +Tiny frown lines appeared between the stewardess's carefully arched +eyebrows. + +"Hg su'v rthsr?" she inquired uncertainly. + +"I don't understand...." + +The stewardess managed a professional smile that was edged with just +the faintest touch of impatience. + +"That's what I thought. What I asked, Sir, was how long since you've +been on Earth?" + +"This is my first visit!" + +"Then you had better study the dictionary," she said firmly. + +"Oh, no, I really don't need it!" Walther's inner excitement showed +in the flush of his fair Nordic complexion. He turned toward her in a +burst of confidence. "You see, my people always kept alive their native +languages. My father's side of the family was German ... and down +through all the generations they've managed to teach the language to +their children! It was the same way with my mother's family, who were +English...." Pride came into his voice: "I could speak both languages +by the time I was four." + +"And you've never taken this shuttle from Cyngus?" + +"I've never been on Cyngus before--nor on Aldebaran VI--Deneb II--or +Arcturus IX," explained Walther, naming the farflung way station across +the galaxy. He added: "I'm on my way in from Neustadt--Andromeda, you +know." + +Respect replaced the hint of impatience in the stewardess's smile, +which instantly became more personal. Not for generations had a +colonist from the Andromeda galaxy boarded this shuttle; the Andromeda +run, across 1,500,000 light years of space, could be made only by +special charter, at a fantastic cost. This blonde young man with +the stubborn chin and sensitive mouth was obviously a colonial of +tremendous wealth. + +The pilot's buzzer sounded, and a red light flickered on the Passenger +Instruction panel. + +"I have to go forward now," the stewardess said, regretfully. "We're +entering the warp, and it's time to prepare for landing. Maybe +later...." + +She let the invitation trail off, and left him with a very special +smile. + +Walther understood the smile. He was a young man, but he was no fool. +In the trading centers of Andromeda many women smiled at him that way +when they learned he was a Von Koenigsburg from Neustadt. + +He dunked the pastry in the black coffee, took a generous bite and +settled back to be alone with his thoughts. An earth woman was not an +essential part of the dream that had taken him on this quixotic voyage. +True, there might be a woman who would come to love him enough so that +she would leave the old world culture and graciousness of Earth for +the colonial life on the immense frontier of Andromeda. But, being of +an age where the dreams of youth are merging with practicality, Walther +rather doubted he would find such a woman. + +He didn't doubt that the rest of his dream would come gloriously to +life. + +While the shuttleship whirled without motion through the voidless void +of hyper space, Walther smiled at the prospect ahead. Six months to +immerse himself in the wonder of Earth's culture! Six months to enjoy +the whole of it, instead of nourishing the few precious fragments kept +alive by his family through the first centuries of colonial life in the +new galaxy. + +Delightful evenings at the symphony and the opera! Beethoven, Verdi, +Brahms, Schubert and Wagner! Wagner!--Perhaps he would even be able +to attend a performance of Die Meistersinger. Walther smiled to +himself. His great, great grandfather, who had first discovered the +incredibly rich mines, forests and black loam of Neustadt, had started +the tradition of naming the first son Walther, after the whimsical +Meistersinger, Walther von der Vogelweide. + +Then there would be leisurely afternoons in the great libraries and +museums! All the great classics of literature and art, instead of +the few faded pictures and the handful of volumes in the high beamed +library of his family castle. The infrequent ships that traveled +between the fringes of the two galaxies had little room for books +and art treasures. Three years ago, on the occasion of Walther's +twenty-first birthday, his mother had broken down in tears as she told +of trying for half a decade to order a set of Goethe as a coming of +age present for him. But after the request had finally reached Earth, +some clerk had garbled the order and sent a four-page booklet that +apparently was some kind of puzzle-book for children. + +Now he could steep himself in Goethe, Schiller, Dickens, Maupassant, +Tolstoi! + +And best of all the conversation! The delicate art of communicating +mind with mind! What tales he would have to tell when he sat again in +the family banquet hall! How his mother's eyes would sparkle! How his +father would roar with delight as he recounted some rapier-like _bon +mot_.... + +But all this was only the small part of the dream. The small, personal +part. The dream itself was so much bigger, as big as a dream must be +to carry over from youth to manhood. He had first dreamed it as a boy, +sitting on the hearth rug with his knees tucked up under his chin, +watching the great leaping fire, while behind him in the shadows his +grandfather played on the old violin. _Meditation_, his grandfather +had called it. By a long ago composer of Earth, a man strangely named +Thais. His grandfather couldn't play very much of it, but the fragment +had lodged in Walther's heart and would be there to the end of his life. + +Walther's dream was indeed a grand dream, shaped of a melody and +leaping flames. He would not spend his lifetime wresting more wealth +from the riches of Neustadt. That had been done for him; the challenge +was gone. But someday he would make the journey to Earth, and bring +back with him enough of the beauty and culture to make Neustadt a +miniature Earth, out on the rim of Andromeda. + +It was indeed a grand dream. He would spend his wealth for books and +music and treasures of art. He would try to bring back artists and +teachers, too, and from Neustadt would spread the wonder of the new, +old culture; it would reach out to all the colonies of the Andromeda +galaxy, giving texture to life. And it would be there like a shining +beacon when Man made his next great step across space, across the +millions of light years to the Camora galaxy, and beyond.... + +The stewardess again touched his shoulder, with a gesture that was not +entirely according to shuttleship regulations. + +"We're through the warp and are now in orbit," she said. "We'll land at +Uniport in three minutes." + +Uniport! The fabled entry port of Earth! It was the new hub, the +pulsing heart of the homeland. It was the syndrome of all Earth +culture, and its stratoways reached out like spokes of a spidery wheel +to every city of the planet. + +Walther's knees were a little shaky as he moved down the ramp, and +the moisture in the corners of his eyes was not caused by the sleety +December wind that whipped across the vast landing area. He was on +Earth. He was the first of his people to return to the fatherland that +had cradled them and sent them out into the universe. + +When the stewardess said good-by to him at the foot of the ramp, she +looked both puzzled and disappointed. Her smile had been an invitation, +and she had sensed the tug of it in his answering grin. But he only +tipped his hat, and went on into the customs office. + +He felt like a small boy suddenly confronted by so many delights that +he knew not which to sample first. + + * * * * * + +"Destination?" + +The customs officer's blue pencil poised over the question on the +Uniport entry form. Walther shrugged carelessly. + +"Oh, I'll look around Uniport awhile, then visit other cities ... New +York ... London ... Vienna.... I have six months, you know." + +"I know--I'm sure you'll enjoy your happy time. But you must have a +destination--someplace where you can be contacted, or leave forwarding +addresses." The official's voice was patient, but it had the curious +mechanical quality Walther had noted in speech of the pretty young +stewardess. + +"Can you recommend good lodging?" + +"The Uniport landing provides excellent facilities, and you'll be among +other travelers until you have a chance to adjust yourself to happy +time activities." + +"Oh, no! I don't want to waste a moment! I want to live among the +people of Earth from this very first night!" + +The customs officer peered at Walther's entry permit. + +"Andromeda ... that's what I thought." He shook his head dubiously. +"You have your Orientation Manual?" + +Walther fumbled in the pockets of his greatcoat. + +"I must have left it on the shuttleship, but I don't need it." + +The official pressed another copy of the manual firmly into Walther's +hands. + +"It is required," he said. "First visitors are not allowed to leave the +Uniport landing without one." + +Walther was too happy to argue. He shoved the manual into one of +pockets. + +"If I may suggest, Sir," said the customs officer, his eyes widening as +he looked over Walther's letters of credit, "You will find the Hotel +Altair most comfortable. It's where all important visitors in Uniport +stay." + +The next few moments went by so quickly they left Walther a little +dazed. A servo-robot took his bags and led him to a monorail car, which +whisked him off to the hotel. + +"Gdegr," said the doorman, another servo-robot, in a brilliant scarlet +uniform. Its wax-like features were set in a perpetual smile. + +Walther blinked. + +"I'm sorry," he began. "I--" + +"Thayr," said the majestic robot, taking Walther's handtooled overnight +bag and motioning imperiously for two bellhop robots to bring the rest +of the luggage. Silent and smiling, they leaped to obey. + +The desk clerk was a human, and greeted Walther with an efficient: + +"Wemtalr." + +He offered Walther a pen and a registration card on which appeared some +undecipherable combination of letters. + +Walther began to have a sense of unreality about the whole thing, as if +he were still day-dreaming in the Venus warp. + +"Really," he said, "I seem to be quite confused--" + +With a smile of sudden comprehension, the clerk produced a Manual and +thumbed rapidly through its pages. He pointed to a phrase with the tip +of his pen, and Walther read: + +What price room do you desire? + +Opposite these words was the phonetic jumble: + +Whprumuirer? + +Walther shrugged to indicate that price was not important, but his +thoughts were spinning. And they were still spinning when the robot +bellhop left him alone in his suite. The possibility of a language +barrier on Earth was something he had never considered. With only six +months planned for his visit, it would be impossible to learn a new +language and still do all he had dreamed of doing. + +But the Von Koenigsburgs were noted for their stubbornness. Walther's +chin set, and he opened the Manual to learn what this was all about. + +He promptly realized that this was a Manual only for the most +elementary needs of conversation, and that a great amount of study +would be necessary for normal discourse. The first section of the +Manual devoted a short chapter to each of the basic languages of +Earth. Turning from one to another, Walther discovered that an extreme +degree of condensation had taken place in all languages. It was as +though a form of speedwriting and shorthand had been vocalized. + +But why? What did it mean? + +Walther found a partial explanation in the Orientation section which +began: + +"Be brief!" + +"Soyez bref!" + +"Mach' es kurz!" + +"Sea breze!" + +In a score of languages, first-time visitors were admonished that an +understanding of these two words was essential to getting maximum +enjoyment out of their stay on Earth. + +"Even in an earlier age," the introduction pointed out, "the words 'Be +Brief' expressed the essence of a new way of life, a life in which +pace and tempo were all important. Later, as technology and automation +relieved man of the burden of labor, he realized that tempo was equally +important to fullest enjoyment of his happy time hours. You will +understand this better after a few pleasant days on Earth." + +There was a false ring to the words that heightened Walther's sense of +forboding. + +Under the glass top of his dressing table, he saw several brightly +colored, attractively illustrated notices. One in particular caught +his attention. It showed a young woman with lovely and poignantly +expressive features. Her hands were outstretched, as though she were +singing or engaged in a dramatic scene. + +With the help of his Manual, Walther ascertained that the young woman +was named Maria Piavi, and that she was an Italian operatic soprano +appearing currently in Uniport with a New York company. + +Walther's buoyancy began to return. What better way to become +acquainted with Earth's culture than to spend his first evening at the +opera? He removed the announcement with Maria Piavi's picture from +under the glass and stood it upright against the mirror. + +Dinner in the hotel's main dining room was a confusing interlude. The +cuisine was superb, the robot waiter faultless--although Walther was +beginning to weary of their fixed smiles. But more irritating was the +flicker of huge, tri-dimensional television screens on the walls of the +dining room. When he deciphered his bill, he saw he had been taxed for +the TV entertainment. + +After dinner, he showed the opera announcement to the hotel clerk, +and asked how to get there. The clerk wrote down the number of the +monorail car he was to take, but when Walther learned the opera house +was only six blocks away, he decided to walk. The clerk was aghast at +this, and followed him all the way to the sidewalk, waving his arms and +protesting in an hysterical jumble of consonants. + + * * * * * + +The opera house itself was a revelation. All he had dreamed of, +and more. The frescoed facade! The dazzling marquee! The crowd of +elegantly dressed men and women, animatedly speaking their strange +syllables as they watched a floor show in the lobby. When the floor +show ended, and the crowd shifted to the far end, where a pantomimist +was beginning his act, Walther had a dear view of the life-size cutout +of Maria Piavi in the center of the lobby. + +He stood in front of it, staring with unashamed admiration. There was +an earthiness and warmth about her that reminded him of the young women +of his own planet. Paradoxically, there was also an air of remoteness +and rigid self-discipline, a sense of emotion eternally controlled. +He wondered which was the real Maria. Beside her picture was the +photograph of a peppery old man whom Walther was able to identify as +Willy Fritsh. The consonants under his name said he was now a producer, +and had formerly directed for many years. + +Walther purchased his ticket without too much difficulty. The lights +blinked, and he followed the crowd into the orchestra section. + +As he sank into the luxury of upholstered seat, Walther opened his +senses to the sounds and sights about him, the tingling scent of the +lovely women, the ebb and flow of indistinguishable conversation, the +strange, short bursts of music which he found to be emanating from a +tiny, jeweled radio in the purse of the woman who sat next to him. + +His excitement and anticipation grew still greater when he carefully +deciphered the program and discovered that Maria Piavi was to sing +Gilda, in Rigoletto, this very evening. What unbelievable good luck! +Rigoletto, to commemorate his first evening on Earth! Walther vaguely +knew the story of the opera, but from earliest childhood he could +remember his mother singing snatches of _Caro Nome_ and _La donna e +mobile_. Now he would hear the entire arias, the full score of this +masterpiece. + +Suddenly all was quiet. The orchestra rose swiftly into view in front +of the stage. The white-haired leader bowed. There was an eruption of +applause, as brief as the crack of a rocket breaking the sound barrier. +The golden baton rose, a glorious burst of music filled the opera house +and the velvet curtain zipped upward so rapidly that the blinking of an +eye would have missed it. + +The opening scene of festal entertainment in the hall of the ducal +palace was a masterpiece in conception, but the gay cavaliers and +ladies, the Duke's twenty-second condensation of the "Questa o quella" +ballata, the plotting with Rigoletto and the mocking of Monterone were +all accomplished and done with before Walther knew what was happening. + +Then he realized that he was looking upon a tremendous revolving stage, +divided into many exquisite sets. Each set appeared majestically, +established itself, often with an almost indiscernable pause, and then +moved out of view to be replaced by the next. + +The second scene was the deserted street outside Rigoletto's cottage. +Rigoletto appeared and disappeared, Gilda and the disguised Duke +flashed through their duets, the orchestra set up the briefest of +fanfares, and the lovely Maria Piavi moved to the center of the stage +to sing Gilda's immortal aria, + + "_Caro nome che il me cor...._" + +The words electrified Walther to the edge of his seat. Here were the +first naturally spoken words of the opera, the words of Gilda as she +expressed joy at learning the name of her lover. Walther's mother had +sung the haunting words on many an evening as he drifted off to sleep +in his nursery. But he had never heard them phrased so beautifully as +they came now from the lips of Maria Piavi. After the numbing shock of +the first scene, they started the blood throbbing in his temples again. + +But they were the last words he understood of the aria. + +Using the archaic phrase with superb showmanship to startle her +audience, Maria swung with flawless technique into a contraction of +verse and music that somehow managed to convey the beauty of both in +the few seconds that she held the center of the stage. It was like +passing a star just before you entered hyperspace. You saw it for an +instant, it awed and choked you with its wonder, and then it vanished +into a nothingness that was deeper than night. + +There was so much beauty in the fragment that Walther ached to hear the +rest of the aria. But Gilda had been abducted to the Duke's palace, and +the stage had revolved far into Act II before Walther could assimilate +the realization that no more of "Caro Nome" would be heard this +evening, or any evening. + +Nothing mattered after this, not even the Duke's half-minute +condensation of "_La donna e mobile_". The stage picked up momentum, +thunder and lightning flashed, the murdered Gilda's body was discovered +by her father in the sack beside the river, the final curtain swooped +down over the grisly horror, the orchestra disappeared, lights flashed +on and Walther found himself being hurried along with the pleased +audience toward the exit, where servo-robots were passing out handbills +and pointing to a theatre across the street. + +The entire opera had lasted eleven minutes. + + * * * * * + +Stunned, his dream crumbling, Walther stood outside the opera house +and watched the crowd disappear into the theatre across the street, or +plunge into passing monorail cars. The wind of the late afternoon was +gone. A light snow was falling; it melted on his cheeks and powdered +the fur collar of his greatcoat. Some of the younger couples didn't +immediately board the monorail. They walked around to the stage exit +and waited, laughing and chattering. Walther joined them. + +In a few moments members of the cast began to appear. They waved gaily +at friends in the crowd. + +Maria came out in the company of two young men, followed closely by the +peppery, bright-eyed little man whom Walther recognized from the lobby +poster as being Willy Fritsh, the producer. The young couples closed +around them, applauding. Walther shouldered his way toward the center +of the group. + +Maria was laughing with excitement. This was the warm, earthy Maria, +not the exquisite, almost aloof, artist Walther had seen on the stage. +She was a full-lipped, gay Italian girl who was enjoying the plaudits +of her friends. She was bundled in a white fur, and her teeth flashed +as she tossed back a rippling comment to one of the young men standing +near Walther. + +As they started to move away, Walther stepped forward in sudden +desperation. + +"I beg pardon," he said. "Can you wait while I try to ask one question?" + +Maria looked startled, and one of her escorts stepped quickly between +her and Walther. + +"Whtstywt?" the young man snapped. + +Walther flushed at the tone. He wasn't used to being spoken to this +way, certainly not by anyone his own age. His jaw set as he held on to +his self control, and continued thumbing through the Manual. + +Then he noticed that Maria was being hurried along by her other escort. +He tried to step around the young man blocking his path. + +The young man put out his arm and pushed against Walther's shoulder, as +if to shove him back into the crowd. + +Out of the corner of his eye, Walther saw Willy Fritsh hurrying forward +to intervene. But his own reflexes were already in motion. His left +hand flashed up; the back of it struck the young man in the chest. +Walther didn't intend it to be a blow, merely a warning. He even +managed to check it before it landed. But, to his bewilderment, the +young man staggered back, slumped to his knees, gasping for breath. + +The other escort, though white-faced with fear, hurled himself at +Walther. + +Still trying to maintain a measure of control, Walther merely blocked +the second escort by thrusting out the palm of his hand. The young man +toppled backward, and the whole scene began to take on a never-never +land quality. + +Girls screamed in terror; the crowd around Walther scrambled out of his +reach. Maria stared at him wide-eyed, but didn't move. + +"I'm terribly sorry," Walther blurted. + +There was a shrill whistle, a drumbeat of running feet on the cold +sidewalk. Walther moved forward to help the young men to their feet. +They shrank away from him, and then he was surrounded by three armed +police officers, shouting a gibberish of commands. + +Finally, Willy Fritsh made himself heard. He pointed to Walther's +manual, and spoke a few patient words of explanation. When one of the +officers still seemed unsatisfied, Willy turned to Walther with a +twinkle in his eyes: + +"They want to know if you are a professional pugilist?" + +Walther felt immeasureably relieved at hearing these naturally spoken +words. + +"Good Lord, no!" he gasped. + +He took out his entry permits, his identification certificate and his +letters of credit, impressively drawn up on the stationery of the +Inter-Galactic Exchange Union on Deneb II. + +When the doubting officer saw the amount of the credits, his hands +shook and he handed the papers back to Walther as if they were state +documents. The officers helped the two young men to their feet, +admonished them sharply, tipped their hats to Walther and hurried back +to their posts. + +Willy regarded Walther quizzically. + +"Well, young man, you seem to have very persuasive ways!" + +At home, it had been easy for Walther to slip from English to German. +He did it now in the stress of the moment. + +"Ich kann Ihnen nicht sagen wie leid es mir tut--" + +He was in the middle of his apology before he realized he was talking +German. He broke off in confusion. Willy's pink cheeks crinkled with +amusement. + +"Ist schon gut. Ich spreche auch das 'alte' Deutsch." + +Willy went on to explain: + +"As a young man I translated many of the German masters into our modern +happy time presentations. Now, what is it you wanted to ask Miss Maria?" + +Walther addressed his question to Willy, but he looked at Maria as he +spoke: + +"I ... I wanted to ask if she would ever consider singing Rigoletto in +its original form. I would be happy to pay all expenses...." + +"I'm sure you would," Willy said drily. "But Miss Maria sings only the +pure happy time essence of Rigoletto. Not for more than a century has +Verdi's original version been sung on Earth." + +Maria looked puzzled during the interchange. Willy translated for her, +and she nodded in vigorous endorsement of his words. There was a titter +of laughter from the young couples who had crowded around them again. + +Walther drew himself very erect. + +"Thank you," he said. + +He turned on his heel and walked into the darkness beyond the stage +exit. He walked blindly into the snow flurries, not caring where his +steps were taking him. But he had not gone two hundred yards before he +realized he was being followed. + + * * * * * + +Walther stopped and waited. + +The footsteps behind him drew closer. A slight shadow bulked out of the +darkness, and Walther heard Willy Fritsh say in German: + +"Don't be alarmed, young man." + +Willy came up and linked his arm through Walther's. + +"Keep on walking--It's a cold night." + +The chill air rattled in Willy's throat as he panted from the pace of +overtaking Walther. When he caught his breath, he asked: + +"What sort of world do you come from? It's quite amazing that someone +from the Andromeda galaxy should ask for the original Rigoletto!" + +Walther told the old producer something of his home and family. Willy +questioned him closely on several points, and finally seemed satisfied. + +"When they come from the stars," he murmured. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"It is nothing--just the title of an old classic." + +At the next corner, Willy stopped. "I leave you here." + +He stepped closer to Walther and lowered his voice, even though there +was nothing around them but darkness and drifting snow. + +"Would you care to sample a bit of Bohemia, my boy?" + +"Well--I guess so," Walther answered doubtfully. + +"Tomorrow evening then, at eight. 1400 Avenue B, apartment 21. Can you +remember that?" + +"1400 Avenue B, apartment 21." + +"I must emphasize the need for discretion on your part. There will be +important people present." + +"Why do you trust me?" Walther challenged. + +"Because I am an old fool," chuckled Willy Fritsh. + +The chuckle emboldened Walther to ask one more question: + +"Will Maria be there?" + +"Now you are a fool!" + +Willy took a step away, then returned, flicked on his cigarette lighter +and studied Walther thoughtfully. + +"Or maybe not," he murmured. "Maybe not. Perhaps Maria could be there, +this once...." + +He snapped out the lighter. + +With another chuckle, Willy disappeared into the darkness. + +1400 Avenue B, apartment 21. Eight o'clock tomorrow evening. The +directions whirled all night through Walther's fitful sleep. They +intermingled with a strange company of servo-robots, unintelligible +phrases, the dry chuckle of Willy Fritsh and the haunting voice of +Maria Piavi, beginning an aria she would never finish. + +The next day, Walther determined to find out how the cult of brevity +had changed other fields of Earth's culture. He went first to the +library, where foreboding hardened into bitter reality. Classic after +classic was cut to its essence. Hamlet was reduced to a total reading +time of seven minutes. But the old librarian seemed embarrassed about +this. + +By mutual reference to the Manual, she managed to convey to him that a +new edition would be out soon, and that it would be edited down to five +minutes reading time. Did he want to sign up for a copy? + +Walther gave her a stricken look, and silently shook his head. + +Puzzled, she led him to the other classics on his list. Each was a new +blow. "Great Expectations" was cut to twenty pages, all of Thoreau to +one thin pamphlet, Henry James to a pocket-size digest of less than ten +pages; "Leaves of Grass" to a few lines of verse. + +Walther's sense of loss became more than personal. He saw uncounted +generations of boys who would never know Whitman, who might never have +time for the open road in the Spring, the sweet springtime of life. The +road and the poem, they were part of each other. Without one, the other +could not live. + +The fire of Walther's dream flamed up fiercely within him. There was +yet time for beauty in Andromeda. Time for quiet and thinking and true +leisure. Somehow, he must rescue the treasures of the ages from the +tomb of Earth and let them live again, three-quarters of a million +light years away. + +He beckoned to the old librarian, and laboriously communicated his +question: + +"The originals of these classics--where are they?" + +She frowned in bewilderment. He pointed to the proper words again, and +gestured with his hands to indicate a large book. + +A smile of understanding replaced her frown. She consulted a larger +edition of his own Manual, and wrote: + +Digester's Vaults--lower six levels. + +He wrote back: + +Can I go down there? + +After some delay, she encoded the answer: + +Only authorized happy time Digesters are permitted in the vaults. + +Walther thanked her glumly. His spirits were so depressed that not even +the digested version of the Bible shocked him too greatly. The Old +Testament amounted to eleven pages, in rather large type; the Gospel of +St. Mark was three paragraphs; the Acts of the Apostles spanned less +than half a page. + +Walther left the library, and the icy wind roused him from depression. +It lashed him to anger, to a desperate, unreasoning anger that drove +him to find, somewhere on Earth, an ember of the old culture. Somewhere +he had to find such an ember and bring it back to Neustadt, where it +would flame again. + +He managed to get directions to the Vienna stratowaycar. Surely in +Vienna he would find some trace of the spirit left by Mozart and Haydn, +Beethoven, Schubert and Strauss. + +Ten minutes later, when he left the stratoway in the Platz terminal +near the Vienna Ring, his heart beat a little faster. This was indeed +the old Vienna, as he had envisaged it from the few pictures he had +seen and the many stories he had been told. The buildings on the Ring +were in good repair, and not substantially altered. There was the Burg +Theatre, the Art and History Museum, the buttressed facade of the +ancient Opera House, the soaring twin spires of the Votive Church. It +was like seeing an old woodcut come to life. + +But, for Walther, that was all that came to life in Vienna. The Burg +Theatre was currently presenting Faust, in what was billed as a +brilliant new production scaled down to seventeen minutes. Walther +sadly recalled Goethe's prophetic line: _Mein Lied ertont der unbekaten +Menge_.... My song sounds to the unknown multitude. + +Wandering outside the city itself, into the footpaths of the +Wienerwald, Walther tried to lose himself among the gentle slopes and +the old trees that cut latticework into the sky. He came suddenly upon +the village of Tullnerzing, where, from a tiny sidewalk cafe, music of +a stringed ensemble came in short, quick bursts. It was scherzo speeded +up a hundredfold, with not three but an infinite number of quarter +notes blurred into what sounded like a single beat. + +These were the Vienna woods! How could he ever tell his mother and +father? Heartsick, he returned to the Platz and found the Berlin +stratoway. + +In Berlin, his bitterness grew. He had known the Unter den Linden must +have changed through the centuries, but he was not prepared for such +a pace of life, such a frenzy of leisure. Better not to have left +Andromeda. Better always to have lived with a dream. + +The sight of two elderly burghers drinking beer reminded him of his +own great grandfather, and gave him a heartening twinge of nostalgia. +But as he stepped close to their table, he saw that as they sipped +from their miniature steins the fingers of their free hands beat out a +rhythmic accompaniment to the convolutions of an adagio team imaged on +the table-top television screen. + +The final irony came to him when he read the lines of Schiller, carved +over the entrance to a museum near the Brandenburg Gate. Because +they were cut deep into the old stone, they could not be erased or +condensed. They were there to give their ironic message to a world that +could no longer read them: + +Only through the morning gateway of the beautiful did you enter the +land of knowledge. + +And beneath them was Schiller's immortal warning to the artist: + + _Der Menschheit Wurde ist in eure Hand gegeben_, + + _Bewahret sie...._ + +Walther copied the entire passage on the back of his Manual. This, +at least, he could take back with him. These words he could preserve +for the artists who would someday create their works of beauty on the +frontier of Andromeda. As he copied them, Walther felt that the words +were also a personal message from Schiller to himself: + + _The dignity of Mankind is placed in your hands_, + + _Preserve it!_ + + _Whether it sinks or rises depends on you._ + + _The holy spell of poetry_ + + _Serves a wise world order;_ + + _May it guide man to that great sea_ + + _Where harmony prevails._ + +The words sustained Walther's spirits until he left the stratoway in +Paris and went to the Louvre. He had told himself that by this time +nothing could shock him, that he could take any blow. But the Louvre +was a new shock all over again. + +Translating a title with the help of his Manual and the servo-robot +guide, Walther found that the thin, wavering line, about two inches +long, against a background of misty blue, was the Mona Lisa. + +The servo-robot explained, after much searching among its tapes for +words: + +"This is the spirit of the famous Mona Lisa smile. The Happy Time +artist has cleverly removed all non-essential detail so that you can +get the meaning of the picture in the minimum amount of time." + +Walther studied the thin, wavering line. This, then, was Da Vinci's +eternal enigma of womanhood. Perhaps it explained why he felt there +were two Marias. Could there be one whole woman in a culture of +fragmented lives? + +The portraits of Holbein were reduced to a few sprinkles of geometric +designs shot through with a single brilliant color. The nudes of +Watteau, Rubens and Velazquez were little more than shadow curves. + +In the east wing of the Louvre, the servo-robot pointed to a series of +larger paintings. Each of these, Walther learned, summarized the entire +life work of a single artist. Here it was possible to see all of Titian +or Michaelangelo or Van Gogh on one simplified canvas. + +Where were the originals of these classics? In the cultural vaults at +Uniport, the servo-robot explained. Only authorized Happy Time artists +could work with them. + +Afterwards, Walther was never quite certain what happened to the +rest of his day. Distraught, he wandered around the Earth, changing +from stratoway to stratoway, scarcely paying any heed to his next +destination. Rome, Athens, Moscow, Jerusalem. Everywhere the pace of +leisure was the same. Capetown, New Delhi, Tibet, Tokyo, San Francisco. +Everywhere he saw something that crumbled his dream a little more: The +Buddhist monk pausing for ten seconds of meditation while he counted +his beads, not one by one but in groups of twenty; the World Government +Chamber where the Senator from the United States filibustered a +proposal to death by speaking for the unprecedented period of four +minutes; the cafe near the school where teenage boys and girls, +immense numbers of them, danced, snapped their fingers and shrieked +ecstatically as the latest popular record exploded in a wild three-note +burst of sound. + +It was seven o'clock in the evening before Walther became aware of the +time. He was half the Earth and just one hour away from his meeting +with Willy Fritsh. + +1400 Avenue B, apartment 21. + +A bit of Bohemia, Willy had promised him. The words disturbed Walther. +He had been disappointed so often in his twenty-four hours on Earth +that he didn't feel like bracing himself for another let-down. Nor did +he feel in the mood for a gay evening, if that was what Willy had meant. + +Would Maria be there? + +Walther shook his head angrily. He was indeed a fool if he expected +anything after this day. + + * * * * * + +1400 Avenue B was only a few moments by monorail from the Hotel Altair. +A gentle-faced woman who reminded Walther of his own mother answered +his knock on the door of Apartment 21. + +"Kdftc?" she inquired politely. + +Walther stared at her. Was this all a cruel joke played by Willy +Fritsh? Certainly this elderly woman, this quiet building, contained no +Bohemia to be spoken of with discretion. + +"Excuse me," he muttered, not even bothering to consult his Manual. He +bowed and backed away. "I'm afraid I've made a mistake--" + +She stayed him with a small gesture of her delicate fingers. Glancing +swiftly up and down the hall, she beckoned him inside. When the door +was closed, she smiled a bright welcome, and spoke in the old tongue: + +"You're the young man from Andromeda!" + +Walther felt the tension inside him beginning to relax. He nodded, and +she took his arm. + +"Willy told us--we've been expecting you." + +She led him from the small foyer into a large, tastefully furnished +living room. Walther glanced around uncertainly, but his first +impression proved correct. There was no one else here. + +The woman urged him forward with a light touch of her fingertips. + +"We must be so careful," she murmured. + +She guided him through the living room, past the kitchen and one +bedroom, and then opened the door of what appeared to be the entrance +to a second bedroom. + +This room was unexpectedly large, and contained many people. They were +talking with great animation, but hushed abruptly as he entered. + +"The young man from Andromeda," his hostess announced. + +The dry voice of Willy Fritsh came through the haze of cigarette smoke. + +"Over here, boy! Come and sit down!" + +He saw Willy and Maria sitting on a long cushion against the far wall. +They moved over to make room for him. Maria smiled rather hesitantly. +He sensed she was very ill at ease. + +"I'll introduce you around later," said Willy. "Everybody's too keyed +up right now. We've just had an unexpected surprise--really quite +startling." + +The conversation had bubbled up again, and there was an electric +feeling of excitement in the air. Everyone was trying to talk at the +same time. Cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkled. + +While everyone was talking to those nearest, the most constantly +recurring focal point of attention was the thin, balding man seated +just across the room from Walther, on the arm of the sofa. He was +riffling the pages of a pocket-size notebook and smiling with +self-conscious pride. + +Willy nodded toward the man. + +"There's the gentleman who furnished our surprise--He brought shorthand +notes on an entire chapter from Don Quixote!" + +After the day he had just been through, Walther could appreciate this. +He asked wonderingly, + +"Where did he get them?" + +"He's a Happy Time Digester." + +Walther studied the little man. So this was one of the comparative few +on Earth who could get into the deep vaults of the Uniport library! +What wonders he must have explored! What beauty and adventure, what +mind-stretching thoughts he must encounter in those underground +catacombs. How deep into the past he could explore, how far into the +future! Why, he could range the universe faster than the warp drive, +out even beyond the Andromeda galaxy! + +Willy cut into his thoughts. + +"He's going to read the entire chapter!" + +Walther turned to Maria to see if she shared his excitement. It was the +aloof, controlled Maria who smiled faintly at him. It was obvious she +had come against her will, and was trying to be gracious about it. + +A middle-aged couple arrived. + +"Dr. and Mrs. Althuss," Willy whispered. "He's the famous heart +surgeon...." + +The next arrival was a distinguished looking man whose fingers shook +with nervousness. + +"That's the World Government alternate delegate from England," Willy +whispered again. "It wouldn't do his reputation any good for word to +get out that he spent an evening in this Bohemian crowd...." + +Their hostess moved to the center of the room, raised her hand and +announced: + +"We're all here now. Please go ahead, Lorne." + +The room quieted instantly. The thin little man proudly began in the +old English: + + "Don Cervante at the Castle...." + +His reading was painfully slow, and he stumbled over the pronunciation +of many words. The people in the room watched him so intensely, with +such absolute concentration, that they gave the impression of reading +his lips rather than listening to his words. Frequently, he would have +to translate a word or phrase into the new language, and there would +be nods of understanding and relief. + +Willy's bright blue eyes sparkled more brightly than ever. He ran his +fingers constantly through his thin bristle of white hair. The elderly +woman on the sofa beside the Digester was so flushed and breathing so +rapidly that Walther feared she was on the verge of a stroke. Even the +urbane heart surgeon showed the emotional impact of this experience. +His long, tapered fingers were clenched together, and he ran his under +lip constantly over the edge of his greying mustache. + +Maria seemed the only one in the room who was not affected by the +reading. Only a slight tightening of her lips marred her careful +composure. + +Soon Walther lost himself in the tingling excitement of the room, +and he forgot about watching the others. Word by word, sentence by +sentence, the Digester led them along with Don Cervante. + +The reading, with its many pauses for translation, took almost two +hours. When it was over, everyone was emotionally and physically +exhausted. The little Digester was so pale he looked ill; his high +forehead dripped with perspiration. + +Walther drew a long breath, and brought himself reluctantly back to +reality. + +Willy asked quietly: + +"What do you think of our intellectual underworld?" + +An outbreak of almost hysterical conversation made it useless for +Walther to answer. Maria, with a look of reproach at Willy, moved +across the room to speak to their hostess. Willy lit one of his cigars +and leaned closer to Walther. There was a gleam of amusement in his +twinkling blue eyes. + +"You look more worn out than Don Cervante!" he chuckled. + +The contrast between this evening and the disillusionment of the day +made it hard for Walther to put his gratitude into words. + +"I can't thank you enough--" he began. + +"Don't try," said Willy. "I may have had my own devious reasons for +inviting you." He glanced toward Maria, who was making an effort at +polite conversation with the hostess. "I'm afraid our young diva isn't +an ardent admirer of the unexpurgated Don Quixote." + +There were many questions Walther wanted to ask about Maria, but he +tactfully inquired, instead: + +"How often does this group meet?" + +"Whenever there is something to share--a chapter of literature--a +copy of an old painting--a recording. It all depends on what our few +Digester friends can manage--They don't have an easy time of it, you +know." + +"Is it difficult for them to take things out of the vaults?" + +"Difficult ... and dangerous," Willy answered grimly. + +"But why...?" + +"For reasons that make good sense, officially at least. A culture +founded on brevity cannot be expected to encourage its own demise +through the acts of its civil servants! Think what could happen: A +total work of art, whatever its form, takes time to appreciate! But +if people spend too long at an opera, the legitimate theatre or the +television industry would be slighted! If they paused too long in +contemplation of a painting, newspapers might not be purchased! If they +dawdled over the old-style newspaper, the digest magazines, the popular +recordings, the minute movies, the spectator sports--the thousand and +one forms of mass recreation offered the public--each in turn would +suffer from unrestrained competition!" + +"It's inconceivable," Walther protested, "that entertainment interests +could be strong enough to shape a culture! Surely the productive basis +of Earth's economy...." + +Willy snorted. + +"My boy, work as such may still be important in Andromeda, but how +could it possibly be so here on Earth? Generations ago, automation, +the control of the atom, the harnessing of the sun's energy--all +combined with many other factors to make work a negligible part of +Man's existence! Thus, with four-fifths of his waking hours devoted +to leisure-time pursuits, the balance of power shifted inevitably to +the purveyors of mass entertainment. Great monopolies, operating under +the Happy Time, Ltd. cartel, seized upon the digest trend in the old +culture and made brevity the basis of the new order. The briefer you +make a piece of entertainment, the more pieces you can sell the public +in a given number of leisure hours! It's just good business," Willy +concluded drily. + +Walther was silent a moment, trying to frame this picture in his +thoughts. But there were so many missing elements. + +"Your artists and writers," he demanded, "all your creative +people--don't they have anything to say about it?" + +"Damn little. You see, the successful artist--whatever his field--is +well paid by his particular monopoly. Besides, he's been trained in +the new form! I doubt if Maria has ever seen the original score of an +opera--let alone tried to sing an entire aria!" + +Willy took a glass of wine from a tray offered by the hostess's +servo-robot. He motioned to Walther to help himself, but Walther shook +his head. Another question was troubling him. + +"Why do the monopolies even bother with Digesters and the classics? Why +not let modern artists create in the new form?" + +Willy's voice grew hard. + +"Because," he snapped, "there have been no creative artists on Earth +for over a century! Why create when your creation is only fed into the +maw of the Digesters? That which is not wanted dies--in a culture as +well as in the human body! That--my young friend from Andromeda--is the +bitter tragedy of it all!" + +Maria rejoined them, and whispered something to Willy. The old producer +sighed and turned to Walther. + +"Maria would like to leave now. Will you take her back to our hotel? +There are some people here I must see...." + +"Of course!" + +Yet, in spite of his eagerness to get better acquainted with Maria, +Walther was reluctant to leave. There was so much more he wanted to +ask, to learn. And deep beneath the surface of his thoughts a bold idea +was beginning to form. + +As if reading his mind, Willy said: + +"We have no performance tomorrow afternoon. Come and see me at our +hotel--we'll talk further! Meanwhile--" Willy's blue eyes sparkled +again, "Meanwhile, for the young, the evening is still young. It should +be an interesting challenge!" + + * * * * * + +Maria said nothing until they had left the apartment building and +started across the street to the monorail station. Then she stopped, +drew a long breath of the wintry air, and shook her head. + +"Whtrblvng!" she exclaimed. + +She smiled at his puzzled expression and tucked her arm through his. +When they were inside the station, he handed her his Manual. She +flipped through the pages, but could not find the exact translation +of her remark. Finally, she picked out parts of three phrases. Put +together, they read: + +"What a terrible evening!" + +After the first shock of her words, Walther realized he could expect +her to feel no differently. She was a product of her culture, and +evidently this had been her first visit to Willy's Bohemia. + +It was past midnight when they boarded the monorail, and they were +alone in the car. Fumbling in her purse for a coin, Maria pointed to +the small screen on the back of the seat in front of them. Walther +offered a handful of coins. She put one into the slot beside the +screen. A comedy sequence appeared, lasting for approximately thirty +seconds. Much of it was lost to Walther, because he couldn't understand +the dialogue. But Maria laughed gaily. The tension lines, the outward +evidences of inner emotional control, began to smooth away. Her cheeks +flushed; her dark eyes began to sparkle. This was the Maria Walther +felt he could learn to know. + +When the television screen went dark, Maria promptly put another coin +into a slot beside a small grid. A full-scale orchestra sounded what +might have been the first chord of a symphony, but the piece was over +before Walther could identify it. A third coin, dropped into the arm +of the seat, produced a small two-page magazine, which seemed to +consist chiefly of pictures. One of the pictures showed Maria herself, +in operatic costume. She studied it critically, then tossed the +magazine into a handy receptacle under the seat. A fourth coin brought +out a game from the side of the monorail car. It vaguely resembled +a checker-board, except that there were only six squares and two +magnetized checkers. Maria guided his hand while he made two moves. As +she completed her last move, the board automatically folded back into +the side of the car. A fifth coin summoned a miniature keyboard from +just beneath the television screen. Maria touched the keys, producing +tinkling noises that sounded like a tiny celeste. Then the keyboard +zipped back into its enclosure. + +Maria reached for a sixth coin. Walther closed his hand over hers, and +made a motion to indicate that his head was already in a whirl. She +laughed, but didn't try to remove her hand. A moment later the monorail +stopped in front of their hotel. + +As they crossed the lobby, Walther pointed inquiringly toward the +cocktail lounge. Maria smiled and nodded gaily. + +A servo-robot waiter seated them at a small chrome table beside a tiny +dance floor. Maria ordered their drinks, and the waiter was back with +them in a matter of seconds. The glasses seemed extremely small to +Walther, compared to the huge mugs and steins he was accustomed to on +Neustadt. The liquor tasted rather bland, more like a sweet wine than a +whiskey. + +The servo-robot presented a bill with the drinks. Money had never +meant anything to Walther, but he could scarcely repress a start when +he deciphered the amount of the bill. By any standard of wealth or +exchange, the drinks were fantastically expensive. + +A scattering of applause announced the return of the orchestra. Maria +held out her hand in an invitation to Walther. With some misgivings, +he led her out on the dance floor. She turned and came into his arms +so naturally and suddenly that she almost took his breath away. She +danced very close to him. Her cheek was warm, and the faint perfume +from the tip of her ear was something he would have liked to explore +more thoroughly. But the moment was over before it began. The music +stopped, the orchestra leader bowed and led his men from the stage. + +Back at the table, Walther lifted his glass to suggest another drink. +She shook her head, explaining, + +"Olndrptd." + +Spelled out with his Manual, her explanation was: + +"Only one drink is permitted." + +And, after Willy's brief orientation, this was understandable: Nothing +could disrupt the perpetual entertainment cycles more easily than +excessive drinking. A tipsy person was not a good customer for other +leisure-time activities. Therefore, permit only one drink to a person, +and charge enough for it so that the liquor monopoly would get its fair +share of the entertainment expenditure. As Willy would say, it was just +good business. + +Maria touched his hand to signify it was time to leave. Walther took +her up to her room on the 32nd floor, and they watched two musical +comedies en route on the elevator pay-as-you-see television screen. + +In front of her door, Maria lightly touched the back of his hand with +her fingertips. She said, + +"Thyfrwrdrftm." + +Walther knew she was thanking him, but from force of newly-acquired +habit he reached for his Manual. + +She laughed, shook her head and translated her own words by raising up +on tiptoe and brushing his lips with her own. + +Their lips were together so briefly that Walther wasn't sure whether +he had really kissed her. He reached out to take her in his arms and +make sure of it. + +Deftly, she turned away and closed her door behind her. + + * * * * * + +Many thoughts interfered with Walther's second night of sleep on Earth, +and they weren't only of Maria. In fact, as his idea took form, even +the scent of her perfume and the moth-like touch of her lips were +forced temporarily into the background of his consciousness. + +The next morning he waited impatiently for an hour after breakfast, +then went up to Willy's room. Willy came to the door in his dressing +robe, holding his glasses in one hand and a sheet of music in the +other. He waved aside Walther's apology for not waiting until afternoon. + +"Nein ... nein!" he said. "I ordered an extra pot of coffee--because I +didn't think you could wait!" + +Willy led Walther into his sitting room and poured him some coffee. + +"Maria was already here," he chuckled. "She came to ... ah ... pick up +music ... and to ask what I know about you. I told her nothing good, +and nothing bad!" + +He settled himself in his easy chair with a luxurious sigh. His +bristling white hair and cherubic cheeks gave him the appearance of a +benign old innkeeper, brought to life from a canvas by Holbein. + +"All right, tell me what you've been thinking about all night!" + +Walther shifted tensely to the edge of his chair. He spilled a little +coffee in setting his cup down. + +"I would like to buy copies," he said, "of everything your Digester +friends have ever smuggled out of the vaults!" + +"That's a large order, my young friend." + +"I'll pay ... whatever it costs!" + +"So would I--if I could afford it! But I fear it's not that simple. +Take, for example, the chapter of Don Quixote you heard last evening. +The World Government representative from England sent the Digester's +notes to an aunt in Liverpool. She'll read them to her Bohemian friends +tonight, and tomorrow they may be in Buenos Aires or Istanbul--who +knows?" + +"But what happens to them eventually? Aren't they kept in some central +place?" + +Willy spread his short, pudgy fingers in a gesture of hopelessness. + +"That would mean organization--and we're not organized. We wouldn't +dare to be! I've never stopped to think what finally happens to these +things. Perhaps they end up among the papers of some old dreamer like +myself. It's enough that they have brought their mellow moments of +happiness!" + +"It's not enough!" Walther protested fiercely. "It's a great waste! How +will you ever improve things that way?" + +"Who's trying to improve anything? The people of Earth are content--and +those of us who are not entirely so--well, we have our little +underworlds of pleasure." + +"Is that all you want?" + +"Is there more?" + +Walther jumped up angrily. + +"I believe there is--and I think you do, too!" he said harshly. "If you +don't, why did you take me to that meeting last night and invite me +here today? Why did you send me off alone with Maria?" + +Willy only smiled, but under his silk robe his round belly shook with +silent laughter. + +"You are a foolish young man ... and sometimes not so foolish! Sit +down. Sit down...." + +He leaned forward in his easy chair, and his manner became grave. + +"Perhaps it's difficult for an old man to come near the end of life +fearing that the beauty he loves will never escape from its tomb. +Perhaps it's also difficult for an old maestro who cherishes the talent +and loveliness of a young woman to know that she may never understand +what her gift really means. Perhaps an old man can still dream some +dreams that a young man could not comprehend...." + +The tight knot in Walther's stomach slowly unwound itself. + +"Then you will help me," he said quietly. + +"Yes, I will help you ... if I can ... and you will help me!" + +At Willy's suggestion, they decided to talk first to the Digester who +had smuggled out the Don Quixote chapter. + +"He's been most successful of all of our friends," said Willy. "He +might be willing to organize a group of Digesters who could bring out +things to be duplicated, and return them, I question, though, that you +could duplicate many things here on Earth." + +"Then we'll ship them away from Earth! The outermost world of this +galaxy--at least to my knowledge--is Alden IV; it's technically +well-developed and is a contact with our own galaxy." + +Willy called the bald little Digester, and he came over right after +lunch. But his reaction to Walther's proposal was not what they had +expected. + +"This ... this is a terrible mistake!" he stammered. "It's ... it's +too big--much too big! Now--by being cautious--we can enjoy our little +evenings together. But if we anger the Happy Time, Ltd. people we'll +lose everything!" + +Willy snapped his fingers impatiently. + +"What have we to lose? A chance to be tea-cup rebels! This young man +is giving us an opportunity to do something about what we profess to +believe!" + +The Digester looked pained. + +"We are already doing something," he protested. "Did I not bring +Chapter IX of Don Quixote...." + +"You did, and we enjoyed it! But what if we could inspire a rebirth of +art as big as a whole galaxy instead of entertaining each other with +our little flings at Bohemia?" + +The little Digester struggled with the thought for a moment, then +dismissed it with a shudder. + +"It's too big," he repeated miserably. "Please forget about it, +Willy--our own way is best." He glared at Walther, and his distress +turned to rage: "I warn you, young man ... don't start trouble for us! +If you can't accept the ways of Earth, go back where you belong!" + +He held out a trembling hand to Willy. + +"Goodby, Willy ... I go now." He hesitated, then added with the wistful +air of a small boy waiting to be praised: "In two weeks I will bring +another whole chapter to read!" + +When Willy only shrugged, the little Digester turned away and sadly +left the room. + +During the next two days, Willy contacted several other Digester +friends. In varying degrees, he met with refusals from each. By the end +of the week, only two of the younger Digesters in the Bohemian set had +agreed to cooperate and even they were careful not to promise too much. + +"At this rate," Walther pointed out glumly, "it will take years to +collect any real quantity of material--and I have only six months! Is +there no other source?" + +Willy shook his head. + +"None that I know of." + +"There must be!" Walther insisted. "Do you mean to tell me that in all +the homes of Earth there are no treasured heirlooms of the past? No +books? No paintings? No recordings?" + +"Oh, I'm sure they are," Willy agreed. "But how to reach them? We can +hardly advertise." + +He paused, hesitated, then snapped his fingers. + +"Wait--there may be a way--even more illegal than your first +suggestion, but still a way...." + +"What is it?" + +"I used the word 'underworld' in speaking of our Bohemian group last +night, but actually there is an underworld, of a sort ... trafficking +mostly in liquor. The cartel's one-drink restriction has never been too +enforceable." Willy lifted the seat of his piano bench and took out a +bottle. "If you can afford it, you can always buy a bootleg supply." + +"What's liquor got to do with art?" + +"For a price--the underworld may be willing to traffic in art, +literature and music ... in addition to alcohol!" + +Willy sent out word through a bootlegger who supplied some of the +opera singers with their favorite beverages. The next night, after +final curtain, a greying, bespectacled and very distinguished looking +gentleman in formal dress met Willy and Walther in a vacant dressing +room backstage. He spoke tersely, and Willy translated: + +"He says he has friends who could be interested in your proposition, if +there's money enough in it." + +"Tell him there's money enough," Walther replied grimly. + +Willy digested this, and their visitor smiled his scepticism. + +Not accustomed to having his financial standing questioned, Walther +faced the man himself and demanded: + +"How much money do you want?" + +The man understood Walther's tone, if not his words. After a brief +calculation, he named a price that shocked Willy, who turned to Walther +with dismay: + +"Ten thousand credits for every usable piece of art that can be bought +outright. An additional deposit of ten thousand if it has to be sent +away from Earth to be duplicated. You are to pay all shipping costs, as +well as legal expenses if any of their men are arrested." + +Walther accepted the terms with a nod. + +Their underworld contact stared respectfully at Walther, took off +his suede gloves and proceeded to get down to business. It was soon +arranged for Walther to set up letters of credit in banks of all major +cities. Shipments of "tools and machinery" would be billed against +these credits, after bills of lading had been inspected by Walther or a +designated representative. From the level of the discussion, they might +have been transacting legal business on a corporation scale. + +Their visitor shook hands with each of them, doffed his top hat and +left with a courteous bow. + +Willy wiped shining beads of sweat from his forehead. + +"High finance," he gasped, "is not a part of my daily routine!" + +He dug into a wardrobe trunk, brought out a bottle and poured two +drinks. Raising his glass high in the air, he toasted: + +"To art ... and crime! I hope we don't have to pay too much for either!" + + * * * * * + +"How are you getting along with Maria?" Willy asked a few days later. + +"Just what do you expect to accomplish by throwing the two of us +together so much," Walther asked bluntly. "Oh, I enjoy it, mind +you--but, really, we're worlds apart. When I go back...." + +"With the young everything is possible--even the impossible," Willy +answered evasively. + +"Well, tell me something more about her. Where does she come from? Has +she ever been engaged? Married?" + +Willy filtered a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. + +"Maria's the only talented offspring ever produced by a rather poor +family in Naples. She still supports them--or rather, makes it possible +for them to be good Happy Time consumers. As for her talent ... well, +it was discovered by her first school teacher--and from then on her +education was taken over by the opera monopoly! Engaged? Nothing +serious that I know of. Married?" Willy frowned. "I shudder to think of +her marriage to one of our mechanical young rabbits!" + +Walther blinked. + +"Do you mind explaining that one?" + +Willy grimaced. + +"I might as well. You see, sex per se is encouraged, with or without +the formality of marriage. Large numbers of offspring are good for +society! We have the technology to provide for them, and the more there +are, the more potential Happy Time consumers! But the arts of sex ... +the refinements of love.... Can't you imagine by this time what takes +place in the boudoirs of Earth? Sex is something to be accommodated +between pay-as-you see television programs! Besides, you've encountered +a couple of our young men, do you consider them physically capable of +prolonged amour?" + +Walther was finding it heavy going to picture some of the things Willy +was describing for him. But the mention of the two young men he had +met outside the opera that first night brought up a question he'd been +waiting to ask: + +"What was wrong with them? I barely touched them!" + +"Participation sports--physical activity of any kind is discouraged as +interfering with the mass entertainment media. The few gifted boys are +trained to be professionals. The others scarcely develop enough muscle +to walk against a strong wind. In fact, they don't walk any more than +is necessary!" + +Willy paced agitatedly around his room, and stopped in front of +Walther's chair. He held out his hands pleadingly: + +"Be patient with Maria," he begged. "You promised to help me, too ... +and this is all I ask of you!" + +Walther didn't find it unpleasant to comply with Willy's request. He +had nothing to do while waiting for the first shipment to be assembled, +and so was able to attend rehearsals as well as the performances of the +operas. + +At rehearsals, he saw a serious Maria, a perfectionist devoted to her +art, a superb technician. After rehearsals and the opera itself, he +saw a Maria who was a product of the alien leisure-time culture he +had found on Earth--a Maria who flitted with tireless zest from one +activity to another, who naturally and enthusiastically accepted the +innumerable forms of entertainment offered by the Happy Time cartel. + +With growing despair, Walther tried to find some activity they could +share. He had always enjoyed sports, so he took her to all the +attractions at the Uniport arenas. Each was a new disappointment. +What was billed as a fight for the world's heavyweight title ended +with a one-round decision. A basketball game was exciting--for three +furiously-contested minutes. The professional tennis match consisted of +each player serving four balls, which the other attempted to return. + +While traveling to and from the various attractions, there were always +the diversions offered on the monorail and stratoway cars. Private +transportation, Walther learned after hopefully exploring this +possibility, had been eliminated for the obvious reason that it was +restricted in the number of recreational opportunities it permitted, +and might lead to over-indulgence in sex--from the point of view of +the time involved, rather than promiscuity. And while walking was not +strictly illegal, those who tended to over-indulge were advised to +curtail their eccentricity. + +After much thought, Walther did hit upon a possibility: It was prompted +by his recollection that the natural beauty of such places as the +Vienna woods had not been obscured. Since Maria was not required to be +at rehearsals until two in the afternoon, they could spend the morning +visiting some distant beauty spots he had read or heard about back on +Neustadt. Perhaps in some of these places the pace of leisure would be +slowed. + +Maria happily accepted his initial invitation to spend a morning in +the South Sea Islands. They boarded a stratoway car immediately after +breakfasting together at the hotel, and soon had exchanged chilly +Uniport for languorous Tahiti. + +The island village, the natives and their costumes, the wet fragrance +of the jungle and the soft rippling of the surf were all as Walther had +pictured them since his first reading of Stevenson's voyages to the +South Seas. + +However, suspecting that the Happy Time cartel had probably made its +presence felt in the village itself, Walther steered Maria around it, +toward a path that wound invitingly between the tall palms and growths +of bread fruit trees. + +Maria's hand fell easily, naturally into his own, and she pressed a +little closer to him, as if awed by the unaccustomed stillness. + +She smiled up at him, started to say something, but Walther put his +finger over her lips and shook his head. Maria looked puzzled, then +took out of her handbag a miniaturized, self-powered television set, +with its own tiny coin meter. She popped in a coin, flicked the dial, +and the image of an actor appeared on the screen. Walther covered it +with his hand. He took the set away from her, and dropped it into the +pocket of his coat. Then he pointed to her, to the shadowed trees +around them--and spread his hands as if to ask what more anyone could +possibly want. + +He wasn't sure she understood, but he put his arm around her waist and +she rested her head against his shoulder. They continued a dozen steps +down the path, until it ended at a silvery lagoon. Here, she touched +the radio button of her wristwatch--rented on a weekly basis--and the +rhythm of a jazz band filled the tropical air. + +Walther took her wrist, shut off the radio. He turned her toward him +and held her face tightly between the palms of his hands. + +"No television," he said firmly, "No radio--no nothing--except this...." + +She yielded with a faint smile. Her eyes closed, but their lips had +scarcely touched when she tried to draw back. + +"Not that way," Walther told her. "This way...." + +He held her face firmly teaching her the kind of kisses that were used +in a frontier world where people had time to make love. She struggled +away from the unnaturalness of his kissing, then slowly she ceased to +struggle. + +Suddenly, the lagoon was lighted by a brilliant spotlight, and a +servo-robot stepped out of the shadows. It said pleasantly: + +"Since only tourists come to this spot, it is presumed that you come +from some distant planet. Therefore, let me point out that all couples +are limited to two minutes by the lagoon. If you hurry, you can catch a +native dance number before the next stratoway leaves." + +In the same pleasant tone, the servo-robot began to repeat these words +in the other ancient languages of Earth. + +Maria's breath came in short, trembling gasps. Her lips were still +apart, and she touched them with the tip of her tongue. + +"_Weil nur Touristen nach diesem Fleckchen Erde kommen_ ..." the +servo-robot droned along in its pleasing voice. + +"Oh, shut up!" Walther growled. + +He took Maria by the arm and led her back up the path. + +"Somehow," he promised her fervently, "Somewhere--we're going to finish +that." + +"Dthgn," she whispered in breathless wonder. + + * * * * * + +The first shipment of "tools and machinery" had been assembled at the +Uniport landing. Walther received a formal notice to this effect from +the local Exchange Bank. The same evening, in a backstage dressing +room, he and Willy Fritsh received a rather more informative report +from the gentleman who was their contact with the bootleg underworld. +Every item in the shipment was listed and described with meticulous +care. By reference to a leather-bound pocket notebook, the contact +managed to furnish additional details. + +With Willy's help, Walther was able to judge the nature of the haul. +He was both pleased and disappointed. Numerically, it had more items +than he had expected. Qualitatively, it left much to be desired. There +were no complete literary works, only fragments. The pictures were +admittedly cheap copies; the recordings were only passages from major +works. A total of eight hundred items had been purchased outright +by underworld agents; fourteen hundred more had been borrowed on the +security of the huge deposit. The latter would have to be duplicated +on Alden IV and returned to their Earth owners as quickly as possible. +Walther had expended a huge fortune for a dubious return. But, through +Willy, he told the contact: + +"Keep it up. Get everything you can!" + +Several items did look promising: From an elderly spinster in Durban, +South Africa, the first two acts of "Othello" had been obtained by +the bootlegger who delivered her dry sec sherry twice a month; in +New Orleans, an undertaker had parted with a nearly complete Louis +Armstrong original--about an inch was broken off one edge of the +record, but the bill of lading stated that the rest was quite audible. +There was also what was reported to be the last third of "Crime and +Punishment," loaned by a lawyer in Prague. + +The second shipment was on a par with the first, with the hopeful +indication that some of the new acquisitions would complement others in +the first shipment. Walther stood beside Willy at the Uniport landing +as the shuttleship carrying their second shipment blasted off on the +first leg of the long route to far-off Alden IV. + +The third shipment was much smaller, only three hundred outright +purchases and seven hundred and twenty items obtained against deposit. +With the bill of lading came a warning note. Walther translated it +himself. It was from their contact, who wrote: + +"Don't try to get in touch with me until further notice. Send off this +shipment as soon as possible. The Happy Time boys know something big is +going on." + +By paying a fabulous premium, Walther was able to get the third +shipment off on the midnight shuttle. Afterwards he stood in the window +of Willy's hotel room, staring up at the star-filled sky. + +"Well, that may be the end of it," he said. + +"You've done well," said Willy, joining him. "I didn't think you'd get +that much." + +"I hope it'll do some good. Perhaps all this new material will at least +form the basis of a good research library." + +Willy glanced at him speculatively. + +"I was disappointed about the music," he said. "Not one complete work." + +By this time, Walther had learned to know when Willy was maneuvering +toward an objective. + +"Just tell me what you've got in mind," he grinned. "No preliminaries." + +Willy chuckled his appreciation, then grew serious. + +"Our opera season ends this week.... We're supposed to take a month +off, then start rehearsals for the next tour. Perhaps, during this +month...." + +Walther sensed what was coming next, but he held his breath--waiting +for Willy to say it. Willy did: + +"Perhaps--if you still want to spend more money to pay them--we could +persuade some of our group to record...." + +"A full-length opera!" Walther exclaimed. "Would they--could they--do +it?" + +Willy pursed his lips thoughtfully. + +"As for willingness--you've observed that your wealth is rather +persuasive on Earth. Like most artists, our people spend more than they +earn, and would probably try anything for what you could pay them. As +for ability--we'd undoubtedly have to record in short sessions. We +might even have to break up the arias into sections, because we're not +conditioned for sustained effort." + +"I'll pay them anything to try it," Walther broke in, enthusiastically. +"Where would you try it--here in Uniport?" + +"Hardly. But there's an old inn in North Wales where I once spent a +vacation with some of our group. If the Happy Time agents should be +watching us now, it would be quite natural to return to that inn." + +"Maria ... do you think she would?" + +Willy sighed, and shrugged. + +"Not for the money alone ... she's quite a perfectionist about her art. +But I'm hopeful that by this time...." His eyes twinkled. + +Walther laughed. + +"What a chess player you would make! I think you've been moving me +around like a pawn ever since the first evening we met!" + +"Not a pawn," Willy corrected him with a smile. "A knight." + +However, they decided not to tell Maria the real purpose of the +proposed vacation until they were all set up at the inn in North +Wales. Walther thought the setting sounded perfect for some personal +unfinished business. + +"Even I could sing an aria in such a place," Willy enthused. + +Willy began quietly and individually contacting other members of his +company. With the kind of payment Walther authorized him to offer, +he had little difficulty getting performers for the venture. Most of +them thought the project ridiculous, but the money was more than they +would normally earn in an entire season. Willy swore each of them to +silence. They were to treat the trip as nothing more than a vacation. +He made arrangements for the various pieces of recording equipment to +be shipped separately from London, Berlin and New York. + +Willy's pink cheeks were perpetually flushed these days, and his bright +eyes sparkled brighter than ever. When Walther brought up the question +of which opera would be attempted, he discovered that the shrewd old +maestro had long ago acquired Puccini's complete "Madame Butterfly" and +had already packed the music for shipment to North Wales. + +The night before they were to leave Uniport, a familiar, distinguished +figure appeared backstage, threading his way between the huge crates +being packed by the servo-robot stagehands. Willy led him immediately +to one of the dressing rooms. + +With admirable simplicity, the underworld contact put a proposition +before them. + +The first three shipments had pretty well exhausted the supply of +readily obtainable material. With the Happy Time agents now alerted, +the risk of trying to get more material wasn't justified by the +probable results. But the underworld wasn't anxious to let go of a good +revenue source without one big payoff. + +What did they propose to do? + +Willy's voice shook as he translated: + +"For--for the right--fee--they're willing to break into the Uniport +Library vaults!" + +Walther was silent for a long moment. Instinctively, he recoiled from +such overt action. But reason asked: Why should he draw back now? +Everything taken from the vaults would be duplicated and returned in +good condition. Was it right to let his own personal reaction stand in +the way of something that might benefit whole ages of Mankind? + +When he had firm control of his own voice, he nodded and asked: + +"How do they propose to do it?" + +The plan was a piece of professional craftsmanship. In the century +of its existence, no one had ever attempted to enter the new library +illegally. With the absence of any known motive for doing so, the need +for guarding against it was routine. There were the usual doors and +time-locks, the alarm systems and servo-robot guards, but nothing that +couldn't be handled. They would bring in technicians from Vega VI to +handle the time-locks. Otherwise, barring some unsuspected move by the +Happy Time security police, the job was within the bounds of their own +abilities. Of course, there must be meticulous attention to detail and +planning. + +The contact explained that, according to preliminary surveys, they +could count on about two hours of work after gaining entrance to +the vaults. By concentrating only on books, for speed of handling +and packing, a reasonable sized crew should be able to get at least +twenty thousand volumes out of the vaults and into a waiting monorail +transport, where the crates would already be assembled. Previous +arrangements could be made for the midnight freight shuttle to take the +crates from the Uniport landing to Cyngus III. From there, the crates +could be dispersed throughout the immeasurable reaches of deep space. + +"But they must be returned," Walther insisted. "I'll see to that!" + +Their visitor shrugged, indicating that this detail was of no interest +to him. He named a price, and when Walther promptly agreed to it, Willy +poured them all a drink. + +"When I was a small boy," Willy said, in a voice that still trembled, +"I slid on the seat of my trousers down an icy slope in the Alps. It +was good fun for the first twenty yards; and then I realized I had gone +beyond my power to stop. That's the way I feel right now. Prosit!" + +As their caller started to leave, Walther stopped him by raising his +hand. Throughout the discussion, an irresistible compulsion had been +growing within him. Now he had to speak: + +"I've come a long way," he told Willy. "Granting that nothing goes +wrong, and that I'm able to leave, I know I'll never return to Earth +again. But there's one selfish, personal thing I want to do before +leaving. It isn't sensible, I know--but neither was my dream to begin +with. I want to go with these men into the Uniport vaults--just to see +for an hour--greater treasures than I can ever hope to see again." + + * * * * * + +From his room on the second floor of the Bridge End Inn, Walther +could look down upon the River Dee, tumbling along beside what was +still called the Shropshire and Union Railroad Canal, although the +tracks of that ancient railroad had been torn up centuries ago. Old +ways and names had a way of persisting in North Wales, despite the +pace of modern leisure. Walther had noted with satisfaction that the +double consonants of the old language, with their strange throaty +pronunciation, had defied contraction. Llangollen and Llantysilio were +two nearby cities whose names were still spelled out, as they had been +for a thousand years. + +He glanced at his watch. Maria should be waking from her nap just +about now. In a half hour, Willy wanted to meet with her and ask her +cooperation in doing "Madame Butterfly". Walther had suggested waiting +until the next day, since Maria was tired from the closing night +festivities in Uniport, and from packing the rest of the night in time +to catch the morning stratoway. But Willy opposed delay. + +As he stood there by his window, Walther had a sense of peace, for the +first time since he'd been on Earth. The moment was all the more to be +cherished, since he knew it could not last. + +A light knock on his door jarred the view and the peace out of focus. + +"Come in," he called, and turned, expecting to see Willy. + +But it was Maria who entered, looking remarkably refreshed after +her short nap. She wore a sweater, a very short skirt and open-toed +sandals. Her long, dark hair was combed out loose. + +It was the first time he had seen her dressed so casually. She looked +more like a Welsh mountain girl than the star of the Uniport opera. + +"Hi!" he said, inadequately. + +She laughed at his surprise, and put her arms around him. + +"Hi," she answered. + +Maria had not forgotten her first lesson beside the Tahiti lagoon; and +Walther was reviewing some subsequent lessons when both of them became +aware of the unwelcome fact that they were not alone. + +Willy Fritsh stood in the doorway, smiling benignly. + +"Oh, hell," said Walther. + +"Believe me, I didn't intend to interrupt," Willy said happily. "But +since we're all together right now ... under such ... ah ... propitious +circumstances, suppose we talk things over." + +"Later," said Walther. + +Ignoring his protest, Willy sat himself comfortably on the window seat, +opened a large envelope and took out the bound libretto of "Madame +Butterfly". He handed it to Maria, without comment. She stared at it +curiously, but made no move to open it until Willy motioned her to do +so. + +She nodded with recognition at the title page, then as she riffled +through succeeding pages, her expression changed from surprise to +distaste. She tried to hand the libretto back to Willy, but instead of +taking it, he drew her to the window seat beside him, and spoke to her +as a father might speak to his daughter. + +By this time, Walther could understand a little of what Willy was +saying and he could guess the rest of it. Maria's first reaction was to +stare incredulously at Willy. As the full meaning of what he was asking +became clear to her, she looked up at Walther. He saw scorn and anger +in her dark eyes. + +When she looked back at Willy, it was to shake her head in emphatic +refusal. + +Willy's tone became even more persuasive. He gazed out the window as he +spoke, down at the river pouring over the weir and ducking under the +old stone bridge. Maria rolled the libretto into a tight scroll. Her +fingers showed white through her unpolished nails. + +Willy stopped abruptly. He looked older, tired. Maria remained silent, +her lips compressed into a tight line. At last she answered him, in a +voice that was tightly, coldly controlled. + +She stood up and walked toward the door. Walther held out his hand; she +ignored it. He started after her, and Willy said, + +"Let her go." + +Willy looked so depressed that Walther felt a need to comfort him. + +"It's all right," he said. "We'll forget the whole idea." + +Willy shook his head. + +"She'll do it," he said wearily. + +"But...." + +"She'll do it because she thinks she owes it to me." + +Walther waited for the old maestro to continue. + +"As soon as we're through recording," Willy went on, pushing himself +up from the window seat, "Maria wants to be released to another opera +company." + +"I'll go see her right now," Walther began. + +"Not now," Willy interrupted. "She wouldn't have anything to do with +you. She thinks your only interest has been this recording." + + * * * * * + +Willy started rehearsals early the next morning, in the big stone barn +behind the inn. The structure's high roof and thick walls provided +natural acoustics, while its location was far enough from Llangollen +to avoid creating undue curiosity. Recording equipment had been set up +along one side; around it, the orchestra was grouped. The center area +was marked off for vocal rehearsals. + +Willy handled the direction himself, and not for a century had any +director on Earth undertaken such a staggering task. + +From the first moments of rehearsal, it became evident that the +orchestra could never hope to play an entire number in one sustained +effort. It was not so much the physical effort involved, as the +difficulty of maintaining an emotional crest for so long a period. The +first violinist fainted halfway through the opening sequence between +Lieutenant Pinkerton and the American consul. This triggered a mass +collapse among the woodwinds. The pianist wavered off an octave through +sheer fatigue, and the drummer dropped his sticks when Willy cued him +to step up tempo. + +Willy was frantic. + +"We'll have to record a few bars at a time--until they're more +accustomed to the strain," he told Walther. "What an editing job this +will be!" + +The problem with the vocalists was even more acute. Every duet would +have to be recorded in at least ten segments. + +Maria was the only one who stubbornly insisted on doing a complete +number. It was a point of pride with her. She hated the music; it +violated every principle she had ever learned. But the perfectionist +in her, reinforced by her bitterness toward Walther and her sense of +obligation to Willy, drove her to deliver the full measure of her +promise. + +In the love duet between Butterfly and Pinkerton, which closed Act I, +the pale and perspiring Pinkerton was nearly spent as he began his +final lines: + + Come then, + + Love, what fear holds you trembling? + + Have done with all misgivings.... + +His impassioned plea quavered; he clutched Maria's arm to steady +himself. Willy cut the music. For five minutes they held cold +compresses to the singer's wrists, while members of the orchestra +slumped, exhausted, in their chairs. When all were somewhat recovered, +Pinkerton attempted the next two lines of his wedding night rapture: + + The night doth enfold us, + + See the world lies sleeping.... + + And then he had to rest again. + +But when Maria answered, her dark eyes flashing defiantly, she went +through her entire eight lines without a pause. + +Her great test came with the famous second act solo, "One Fine Day". +It was difficult enough to learn the strange words and music, but to +achieve and hold the emotional peaks of the solo for nearly two minutes +was something she had never before attempted. + +Because she insisted on doing the entire aria without resting, Willy +set the recording for early in the morning, when the orchestra would be +fresh. He asked them to assemble on the improvised sound stage an hour +after breakfast. + +Willy limited the orchestra to a minimum tune up period so that the +musicians could conserve their energies for the ordeal ahead. The +violins were the last to be ready. When the final string had been +tuned, Willy cued the engineers to stand by and pointed the tip of his +baton toward Maria. + + "Un Bel Di...." + +The words came clear as the notes of a silver bell, calling back to +life the beauty that had been dead for so long. Walther felt his +stomach muscles tighten; a tingle of wonder crept up his spine. + +Standing there in the center of the old stone barn, wearing only +sandals, shorts and a light blouse open at the neck, Maria still +managed to convey the feelings of the lonely young Japanese wife who +sang so confidently of her husband's return from across the sea. + +This was Maria, the incomparable artist, using all of her technique to +blend the unfamiliar words and music. + +But for the first few lines it was only a technical tour de force. Then +Puccini's music began to take hold of Maria, merging the artist with +the woman, and creating yet a third entity out of the two. + +He saw Willy turn, transfixed toward Maria. His hands and baton +continued to move, but not by conscious direction. His pink cheeks were +pale, etched with deepening lines. His blue eyes were misted. + +Even the other members of the company seemed moved by Maria's +performance. Yet they could not stay with her emotionally; they +were compelled to break the tension by shuffling their feet and +self-consciously lighting cigarettes. + +To a man, the orchestra played as if hypnotized, sweeping through +measure after measure with an intensity that seemed impossible to +maintain. + +For an uncertain moment, near the end of the aria, it looked as if +Maria could not finish. She swayed, held tightly to the microphone +for support. Walther stepped forward to catch her, but she recovered, +drawing on some inner source of strength to finish: + + "... This will all come to pass, as I tell you! + + Banish your idle fears ... + + For he will return, I know it!" + +As Maria finished, she tore herself away from the microphone. Her lips +were trembling; her eyes were wide, like those of a woman in shock. She +half-ran out of the barn, stopped--confused--in the bright sunlight, +and then ran on down the path toward the Inn. + + * * * * * + +Until late afternoon, Maria would see no one. Then she agreed to see +Willy for a few moments. + +When the old maestro left her room, he looked deeply troubled. + +"I don't know ..." he told Walther, shaking his head. "I don't know +what this has done to her." + +"What did she say?" + +"Right now, she says she will never sing again. She's going to her home +in Italy this evening." + +"Can we do anything?" + +"Looks like we've already done more than we should. Mixing two cultures +in one artist is dangerous chemistry!" + +Up to this moment, Walther had deliberately avoided any decision about +Maria. She had been a continuing and delightful challenge, especially +since Tahiti, but beyond that he had not allowed his thoughts to go. +Now there was a responsibility he could no longer evade. He had watched +the dual personality that was Maria being shattered under the impact +of Puccini's music. How would the pieces fit together again? Should +he stand by and watch? Or should he try to help? And if he could +help her, how would it all end? The gulf between two cultures could +be wider than the mathematics of space between two galaxies, or the +bridging power of sex. + +Against Willy's advice, Walther decided to catch the same stratoway +with Maria, and take his chances on what might happen. + +But a phone call from Uniport abruptly changed his plans. It was +from their underworld contact, who informed Willy that the "Board of +Directors" was meeting that evening; if Walther wanted to attend, he +would have to take the next stratoway to Uniport. Someone would meet +him at the station. + +Uniport or Italy? Willy intervened to make the decision easier. + +"This will be your only chance to get into the vaults," he counseled. +"Besides, Maria must think some things through for herself." + +His emotions in turmoil, Walther boarded the next stratoway for +Uniport. As North Wales and England blurred into the ocean beneath him, +he had the feeling that he would never see the River Dee country again. + +A tall, thin young man, with eyes as colorless as waxpaper, met him +at the Uniport station and hurried him into a monorail car. Walther +tentatively began a question, but the young man stopped him with an +opaque stare. + +Four times they changed monorail cars, ending up eventually at a +freight terminal, where an older man met them and pointed silently +to one of the freight cars. Inside, Walther saw a strange assortment +of smiling servo-robots and grim-faced humans sitting around on +empty packing cases. The cases were already marked for shipment and +trans-shipment throughout the galaxy. + +After quick, sharp glances of appraisal, no one paid any attention to +him. He sat down beside one of the servo-robots and forced himself to +wait as patiently as possible. For a half hour nothing happened. The +servo-robots remained motionless; the humans chain-smoked until the air +in the freight car was an acrid grey smog. Nearly every human switched +constantly and nervously from his tiny TV set to his watch-radio. +One of the men brought out a bottle, but quickly put it away after a +staccato command from the greying, square-jawed man who seemed to be in +charge. + +At 6 o'clock, without warning, the freight car vibrated slightly and +began to move. The servo-robots stood up attentively; the humans +snuffed out their cigarettes. Peering through one of the small windows, +Walther saw that twilight was merging into night. + +It was completely dark when the car stopped at a loading platform +behind the steel-grey building that towered above the Uniport cultural +vaults. A servo-robot guard stepped forward challengingly. + +At a gesture from the leader, one of the servo-robots within the car +marched out on the platform and presented a punched bill of lading. As +the guard fed the document into its tabulator, the other stepped closer +and lightly brushed against it. The guard stiffened, as though from a +severe shock. There was a sound like that of a racing motor suddenly +thrown out of gear. Then a click, and silence. The servo-robot guard +unhinged itself at the knees and collapsed on the platform. + +Another signal from the leader, and out of the car scurried the humans +and servo-robots. They ran across the platform toward the shadow of the +building. Here, two of the men, who Walther guessed to be the experts +imported to Earth for this job, traced a circle around the door with an +instrument that resembled a small camera. Evidently this was to cut off +the alarm system, for almost immediately they relaxed and went on to +open the door without any attempt at caution. + +Proceeding in single file, lighting their way with powerful +flashlights, they passed in similar manner through a series of inner +doors to an elevator leading down into the vaults. A servo-robot took +over its operation, and they shot downward. At each level, the leader +stepped off the elevator to look around. At the sixth level, he nodded +and they followed him into the vault. + +This was the book vault. Tier upon tier, the stacks of books reached in +every direction as far as a flashlight beam could probe. + +Motioning Walther to follow him, the leader took a piece of chalk and +began marking off groups of books. The men rounded up library carts for +the servo-robots, who swiftly fell to loading the carts and trundling +them back to the elevator. + +Walther soon moved ahead of the leader and began marking the books +himself. They had started in the M-sections. With mounting excitement, +Walther chalked off Machiavelli, Mann, Markham, Masefield, Maugham, +Maupassant, Melville, Millay, Moliere.... + +Leaping to the next tier, he raced through the stacks marking the works +of Nathan and Newton, O'Neill ... Ovid.... Then on to Parker, Pater, +Pepys, Plato, Poe.... Racine, Rousseau.... Sandburg ... Santayana.... + +What an astounding haul this would be! The masterpieces of the ages, +to be whisked across space, from star system to star system, until at +last they reached his homeland, where they would grow and multiply a +million-fold, generation into generation, down through the millenniums +of universal time. + +Back to the A-sections! Adams, Aeschylus, Anderson, Aristotle.... + +On to the B-sections! Bacon ... Balzac ... Benet ... Bronte ... +Byron.... + +It was like drinking a heady burgundy. Each new title whetted his taste +for more. + +Inevitably, the very magnitude of the thing began to have its sobering +effect. Was it actually possible to get so much material out of the +vaults? Off the Earth? + +The leader caught up with him in the K-sections and motioned him not to +mark off any more books. They'd have a hard time getting those Walther +had already chalked. + +Walther rode up with the next elevator load. On the way down, he +indicated to the servo-robot that he wanted to go all the way to the +bottom level. There he stepped out of the elevator and stood in the +darkness for a moment to steady himself from the excitement of marking +so many books. + +Then he swept his flashlight beam slowly around the vault. + +It was like turning on a light in a tomb that had been sealed for +centuries. Certainly this tomb had been sealed, to all except the +Digesters and the servo-robot attendants. + +The vault was at least two hundred feet high. Walther could only guess +at the other dimensions, and the extent of the corridors that fanned +out like the spokes of a wheel. Sculptured figures from all the ages of +Earth loomed out of the shadows with a quality of arrested life that +might at any moment move again. + +The figures of the Pharaohs were here, the chiseled perfection of +Athens and Rome, the genius of the Renaissance and the primitive gods +of the Aztecs. The armless Venus gazed down dispassionately on the +bowed back of the Discus Thrower, while Rodin's Thinker stared in +eternal contemplation at the belly of Buddha. + +And then Walther looked upward. + +High overhead, reassembled on a great oblong span of artificial ceiling +suspended from the top of the vault, were the nine immortal panels from +the Sistine Chapel. Tracing his beam of light through scene by scene of +Michaelangelo's creation of the world, lingering among the connective +figures of the prophets and sibyls, the lunettes and triangles, +Walther lost all sense of time. + +When his back and neck muscles could stand the strain no longer, he +wandered deeper into the dim recesses of the vault, following corridor +after corridor, entranced. He was like a condemned man watching his +last sunrise and trying to absorb it all, knowing he would not come +this way again. + +Walther did not realize how far he had wandered until he came at last +to the end of a corridor and glanced at his watch. + +Ten o'clock! + +He'd been gone from the group for nearly three hours, and the entire +raid had been timed for two hours. + +He started running for the elevator. Corridor led into corridor, +gallery into gallery. It took him twenty minutes to find his way back +to the main vault, another five minutes to locate the right elevator. +He pressed the button and listened. There was no sound within the shaft. + +He shouted, and there was only the echo of his own voice reverberating +through the ages around him. + + * * * * * + +Fighting down a flutter of panic, Walther turned off his light and +leaned against the elevator door to organize his thoughts. + +He was sure the others had left on time to make shipment schedules +at the Uniport landing. They might have delayed long enough to make +a cursory search for him, but his safety was no part of their +commitment. They had successfully raided the vaults, which was all they +had contracted to do. Before morning, most of them undoubtedly would +have embarked on inter-planetary cruises. + +Walther's first decision was to try the other elevators on the +off-chance that one had been left in operating gear. + +None had. + +Next, he set off to look for a stair well, fire ladder or other +method of exit. It took him three hours to cover the entire vault and +its corridors. No doubt of it, the elevators were the only means of +entering and leaving. + +It was now one o'clock. In eight hours the upper level doors would open +to the Digesters. No particular effort had been made to camouflage the +gaps in the stacks. His one chance was to reach the street level before +anyone noticed the missing books. Meanwhile, he could do nothing except +spend the night as comfortably as possible. He spread his coat on the +marble floor behind the squat statue of a Malayan goddess. + +Surprisingly, he did doze off toward morning. He awoke shortly after +eight o'clock, and began to punch the elevator button every five +minutes. Finally, at three minutes to nine, a faint hum responded +within the shaft. He retreated hastily into the nearest corridor, and +waited another ten minutes before bringing the elevator down to his +level. Then he entered it, pressed the street-level control and shot +upward. + +He lit a cigarette, and was prepared to step out nonchalantly as soon +as the door opened. + +His exit was nonchalant enough, but the servo-robot guard in front of +the elevator held out its tabulator slot and said. + +"Crdpls." + +Walther was shaken, but did not freeze up. He fumbled in his pocket for +a slip of paper and tried to cram it into the tabulator. A red light +flashed on the servo-robot's chest; a buzzer sounded. + +Thirty yards beyond, Walther saw the front desk and the door open to +the street. He acted with the impulse. A sidestep took him around the +servo-robot, and then he was racing toward the door. + +Three steps later, a vise-like grip clamped around his shoulders and +swept him off his feet. Twisting, he saw that the servo-robot's arm had +elongated, and that the fingers had stretched to encircle his body. He +kicked hard at the arm, and that was his last conscious act. + +The next time Walther opened his eyes, his head throbbed so violently +he closed them again. When the spinning stopped, he tried once more. + +Around him he saw four metallic walls, and overhead a ceiling of +similar material. Except for a ventilator grid, and the outlines of +two doors, there were no breaks in the wall and no decorations. He was +lying on a low, narrow cot, and was still fully dressed. + +He felt his head. There was a large lump above his right temple, where +he might have struck the floor. But he was still too groggy for much +speculation. He closed his eyes to ease the throbbing, and fell into +an uneasy sleep. + +The creaking of the door must have roused him, for it was closing as he +focussed on it. A tray of food was within arm's reach. A smaller door +behind his bed had been opened; it led to a tiny washroom. + +After freshening up and trying the food, Walther felt much better. He +was a strong-nerved young man, not accustomed to worry, and he tried +to weigh the facts for and against him. If the shipments had gone off +without a hitch, things might not be so bad. He'd been found leaving +the vaults, but no one would suppose that he'd have stayed around after +somehow disposing of the books. They might suspect him, but it would +be hard to disprove his story that he'd taken the elevator by mistake +the day before and been trapped overnight. Anyway, as a visitor from +another galaxy, he was entitled to certain consideration. + +He felt even better when the door opened late in the afternoon to admit +Willy Fritsh and a tight-lipped man of about forty. + +"Your lawyer," said Willy. He looked and sounded grim. + +After completing introductions, Willy told him that he was indeed +accused of the theft, and would be arraigned in the morning. + +"They can't prove it," Walther answered calmly. + +"They think they can. Our Digester friend--remember our Bohemian +evening?--has come forward to accuse you. He'll testify about the offer +we made him." + +"We? Will he accuse you, too?" + +"Not exactly. I'm supposed to be an innocent bystander. A friend who +was used!" + +In spite of the circumstances, a hint of the old sparkle returned to +Willy's eyes and he smiled faintly. + +"What can they do about it?" Walther demanded. After all, he was a Von +Koenigsburg. + +Willy's smile vanished. + +"Our legal friend here says ten years would be a light sentence." + +They discussed the case for an hour, while the lawyer took meticulous +notes. Then, through Willy, the attorney began questioning Walther +about his financial status. Even in the language of consonants, his +voice was suave. + +The lawyer's precise little symbols wavered as Walther briefly outlined +his family circumstances, but a servo-robot opened the door before +further questions could be asked. + +Willy started to shake hands with Walther, then impulsively put his +arms around him. There were tears in the corners of his blue eyes. He +tried to say something, but gave it up and hurried out the door behind +the attorney. + +"Wait." Walther called after him. "Have you heard anything from Maria?" + +Willy sadly shook his head. + +"No. Nothing." + +Walther had scarcely finished breakfast next morning when a servo-robot +came to take him to court. The robot linked thumb and forefinger around +Walther's wrist with the grip of a handcuff. + +There were no spectators in the courtroom; perhaps, Walther thought +glumly, because it was a free attraction that would interfere with +the consumption of happy time entertainment. Willy joined him at the +defendants table. + +"Still the loyal, misguided friend," Willy murmured. "I volunteered to +be your interpreter." + +The Judge was a human, but all clerks and bailiffs were servo-robots. +As soon as the court was gaveled into session, the Prosecutor presented +a twenty-second digest of the case against Walther, and called the +little Digester as a substantiating witness. + +Walther didn't need any translation to understand what the witness was +saying. Shifting unhappily in his chair, and avoiding Willy's eyes, the +little Digester answered preliminary questions in a scarcely audible +voice. But when he pointed his finger at Walther, his voice became +shrill and he reddened to the top of his bald head. + +"Now he'll be afraid to attend one of our meetings," Willy murmured. +"That's what he's really blaming you for." + +When the Digester left the stand, a portly man, with a perpetual +tick in his left cheek, arose to address the court. He was at the +Prosecutor's table, and until this moment had seemed to take very +little interest in the proceedings. But now he spoke in a steel-edged +voice that was in surprising contrast to his slow, heavy movements. + +"He's speaking as a friend of the court," Willy whispered. "His +office is legal representative of the Happy Time cartel in Uniport. +He's telling the court what a terrible offense you committed--but is +willing--in the public interest not to press charges if you'll return +the books at once. Otherwise, he demands you be held for trial without +bail." + +Walther's lawyer conferred briefly with Willy. The Judge and Prosecutor +also conferred, and both spoke with obvious deference to the Happy Time +attorney. + +With a bow to all three, Walther's lawyer addressed the court. His +smooth voice rippled lightly over the harsh consonants, and his thin +lips parted often in a swift, mirthless smile. He spoke for almost a +minute, and the Judge began to toy with his gavel, watching the Happy +Time attorney for a cue to his feelings. The attorney had slumped back +in his chair, eyes drooping. But the tick in his cheek worked furiously. + +Then Walther's lawyer turned toward the Happy Time lawyer and paused +dramatically. + +"He's talking about your family," Willy whispered again. "I think he's +exaggerating a bit, but he says they own an entire planet twice the +size of Earth." + +When the lawyer continued, the smoothness was gone from his voice. His +words came hard, crisp, brief. The elderly Judge sagged back in his +chair, the Prosecutor blinked and the Happy Time attorney allowed his +eyes to close completely. + +"I hope you approve," Willy said in a shaky whisper. "You've just +offered to deposit a hundred million credits with the Happy Time cartel +as assurance the books will be returned." + +"What?--I don't even admit taking them!" + +"Neither does your lawyer. But, as he puts it, if anyone acting in your +behalf, but without your direct knowledge, should have seized these +books and shipped them off the Earth, you will assume responsibility +for their return. Otherwise, they may be turned loose among the people +of Earth to plant seeds of future trouble." + +Walther's lawyer emphasized one brief phrase, and sat down. Even +Walther recognized the words: One hundred million credits. + +The Happy Time attorney slowly opened his eyes and heaved himself to +his feet. He spread out both pudgy hands to the Judge, and shrugged his +bulking shoulders. He spoke briefly, and the steel-edge was gone from +his voice. + +"He suggests that the court in its wisdom, temper justice with mercy." +Willy translated excitedly. + +After this it was a matter of detail, with the Prosecutor insisting +only that Walther be kept in custody and deported immediately after the +deposit had been arranged. + +The strain of the whole affair had been too much for Willy, but as the +smiling servo-robot led Walther out of the courtroom, he called after +him: + +"I'll be at the landing!" + +Walther knew he should be happy. He had found what he wanted on Earth. +Not in the way he had hoped, but the final reckoning was the same. +Still, there was an emptiness to it all, an emptiness and an aching. + +When he cleared customs, and was released by his servo-robot guard, +Walther saw Willy Fritsh waiting beside the Cyngus III shuttleship. A +half dozen of his musicians were with him. + +Willy said with simple directness: + +"If you want us, we'd like to go with you." + +Of all the things that had happened to him in the last twenty-four +hours, this took Walther most completely by surprise. He stared, +speechless, from Willy to the musicians, most of them older men. + +"These few came to me," Willy said. "They don't want to go back to our +own music--Neither do I!" His voice broke, and he continued, pleading: +"We can help bring your dream to life in the few years left to us." + +Walther enveloped the old maestro in a bear-hug that crushed the +breath out of him. + +"Want you?" he cried. "Now, who's a fool?" + +"You are," gasped Willy, "if you thought I'd leave part of my heart +behind!" + +Walther looked around quickly. + +At the top of the shuttleship ramp stood a young woman with half a +smile and half a question on her lips. There was doubt in that smile, +and fear. There was loneliness and wonder, and hope. It was a promise +and a warning of all that lay ahead for them, out there beyond the +stars. + +Humbly, more knowing that he had yet been in his short life, Walther +held out his hands and walked up the ramp toward her--toward a dream +that was over, and a reality that could be more bitter, more sweet, +than any dream. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Abbr., by Frank Riley + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59728 *** |