Various Fiction

by Robert Sheckley

Each type had to be greeted with his own, unique Welcoming Ceremony, for so it was written in The Giant Book of Gods.

  Elder Singer observed at once that these were two-legged, two-armed, tailless gods. Quickly he formed the people in the correct figure.

  Glat, known as Younger Singer, trotted up.

  “Which are you using?” he coughed politely.

  Elder Singer stared at him. “The Dance of Landing Clearance,” he said, pronouncing the ancient, meaningless words with dignity.

  “Really?” Glat rubbed his tail along his neck in a gesture of casual defiance. “Alhona prescribes the feasting before anything else.”

  Elder Singer made the gesture of negation and turned away. As long as he was in charge, there would be no compromise with the Alhona heresy, which had been written a mere three thousand years ago.

  Glat, the Younger Singer, returned to his place in the dance. It was ridiculous, he thought, having an old conservative like Elder Singer lay down dance-policy. Utterly absurd, when it had been shown—

  The two gods were moving! They balanced on their thin legs, swaying. One walked forward, stumbled, and fell on his face. The other helped him up, then fell himself. Very slowly he pulled himself to his feet

  It was amazingly realistic.

  “The gods dance their acceptance!” Elder Singer called. “Begin the Dance of Landing Clearance.”

  The people danced, pounding their tails on the ground, coughing and barking joyously. Then, according to ceremony, the gods were placed on a platform of sacred boughs, and brought to the Sacred Mound.

  “Let’s talk this over,” Glat said, catching up with Elder Singer. “Since this is the first appearance of any god in thousands of years, certainly it would be wise to use the Alhona ceremonies. Just in case—”

  “No,” Elder Singer said, trotting briskly along on his six legs. “All the correct ceremonies are described in the Ancient Books of Procedure.”

  “I know,” Glat said, “but it would do no harm—”

  “Never,” Elder Singer said firmly. “For each god, there must be the Dance of Landing Clearance. Then comes the Dance of Field Approval, and the Dance of Customs Inspection, and the Dance of Cargo Unloading and the Dance of Medical Inspection.” Elder Singer rolled out the ancient, mysterious names with unction. “Then and only then can the feasting begin.”

  On the platform of boughs, the two gods were moaning and waving their limbs listlessly. Glat knew that they were dancing an imitation of human pain and suffering, to reaffirm their kinship with their worshippers.

  This was as it should be, written in the Book of Last Appearance. But Glat was amazed at how well the gods could imitate human emotions. To look at them, one would really think they were dying of thirst and hunger.

  He smiled at the thought. Everyone knew that the gods could feel none of those things.

  “Look at it this way,” Glat said to Elder Singer. “The important thing is to avoid the fatal mistake our ancestors made in the Days of Space Flight Right?”

  “Of course,” Elder Singer said, bending his head reverently to the ritual name for the Golden Age. Five thousand years ago, his people had been rich and prosperous, and many gods had visited them. Then according to legend, a mistake had been made in the ritual, and an Avoidance was placed on the people. After that, the gods came no more.

  “If the gods approve our ceremonies,” Elder Singer said, “they will lift the Avoidance. Other gods will come, as it was then.”

  “Exactly. And Alhona was the last to see a god. Certainly he must know what he was talking about, when he prescribes the feasting first, and then the ceremonies.”

  “The writings of Alhona are heresy,” Elder Singer said.

  Younger Singer considered, for at least the hundredth time, of asserting himself, and commanding the village to provide the Water Ceremony and Feast at once. Many villagers were secret Alhona converts . . .

  But he decided against it, for the moment. Elder Singer was still too strong. What he needed, he thought, was a sign from the gods themselves.

  But the gods were still lying on the boughs, doing their marvelous twitching dance in imitation of human thirst and suffering.

  The gods were placed in the middle of the Sacred Mound, and Elder Singer led the people in the dance of Landing Approval. Messengers were sent to the outlying villages, to call all men to the Dances.

  In the village, the women began to prepare the feast. Some of them danced out of sheer joy, for wasn’t it written that when the gods returned the Avoidance would be ended, and there would be prosperity and riches for everyone, as in the Days of Space Flight’

  On the mound, one god was lying prone. The other had raised himself to a sitting position, and was pointing into his mouth with an artfully shaking finger.

  “It is the sign of good will!” cried Elder Singer.

  Glat nodded, perspiration rolling down the folds of his hide as he danced. Elder Singer was strong on interpretation. He had to admit that.

  Now the other god was sitting up, clutching his throat with one hand and gesturing with the other.

  “Faster!” Elder Singer coughed at the dancers, responsive to every move of the gods.

  One of the gods was shouting now, in a terrible, cracked voice. He shouted, and pointed at his throat, and shouted again in imitation of a suffering man.

  All this was in strict accordance with the God’s Dance in the Book of Last Appearance.

  Just then, a troop of young men from the next village galloped in, and took their places in the dance. Younger Singer was relieved of his position. After catching his breath, he walked over to Elder Singer.

  “Are you using all the dances?” he asked.

  “Of course.” Elder Singer scrutinized the dancers carefully, for there could be no mistake this time. This would be their last chance to redeem themselves in the eyes of the gods.

  “The dances will continue for the full eight days,” Elder Singer said sternly. “If any error is made, we will begin again.”

  “Alhona says that the Water Ceremony should come first,” Glat said, “followed by—”

  “Get back to the dance!” Elder Singer said, making the sign of complete negation. “You have heard the gods cough their approval. Only in this way can we lift the ancient Avoidance.”

  Younger Singer turned away. If only he were in charge! In the ancient days, when the gods were constantly coming and going, Elder Singer’s way had been correct. Glat remembered reading in the Book of Last Appearance how the god-ship had come down. The Field Clearance Ceremony (they didn’t call them dances then) had begun.

  The gods had danced their dance of suffering and pain.

  Then the Landing Approval Ceremony was performed.

  The gods danced a hunger dance, and a thirst dance, as they were doing now.

  And then there had been the Ceremony of Customs Inspection, and Cargo Unloading, and Medical Inspection. During all this time, food and water had been kept from the gods, as part of the ritual.

  When all the ceremonies were done, one god had, for some reason, imitated a dead man. The other had taken him back to the god-ship, and the gods left for the last time.

  Sometime after that, the Avoidance began.

  But none of the ancient writings agreed on the reason for the Avoidance. Some maintained that an error in one of the Dances had offended the gods. Others, like Alhona, wrote that the feasting and drink should have come first, and then the ceremonies.

  Alhona was not generally believed. After all, the gods knew neither hunger nor thirst. Why should the feast precede the ceremonies?

  But Glat accepted Alhona’s word on faith, and hoped someday to find out the real reason for the Avoidance.

  Suddenly there was an interruption. Glat hurried back to see what it was.

  Some fool had left a common water jug near the Sacred Mound. One of the gods had crawled toward it. His hands were just about to grasp it.

  Elder Singer snatched the jug away, and
the whole village sighed in relief. It was blasphemy to leave a plain, unadorned, unpurified water jug near a god. Had he touched it, the god might have destroyed the village in his wrath.

  The god was angry. He shouted, and pointed at the offending jug. Then he pointed at the other god, still lying on his face in heavenly ecstasy. He pointed at his throat, his dry, cracked mouth, and at the water jug again. He took two off-balance steps and fell down. The god began to sob.

  “Quick!” Younger Singer shouted. “Start the Dance of Reciprocal Trade Agreement!”

  Only his quick thinking saved the day. The Dancers lighted the sacred boughs and waved them at the gods. The gods began to cough and choke their approval.

  “Quick thinking,” Elder Singer said grudgingly. “What made you think of that dance?”

  “It had the most impressive name,” Glat said. “I knew we needed something strong.”

  “Well—well done,” Elder Singer said, and returned to the dance.

  Glat smiled, and wrapped his tail around his waist. This was an important step for him.

  Now he had to plan how he would put Alhona’s ceremonies into effect.

  The gods lay on the ground, coughing and gasping like men in agony. Younger Singer decided to wait until the right moment.

  All that day the Dance of Reciprocal Trade Agreement was danced, and the gods did their part. Men from distant villages came to worship, and the gods choked their approval.

  At the end of the dance, one of the gods got up, very slowly. He sank to his knees, exaggerating his movements like a desperately weak man.

  “A message,” Elder Singer whispered, and everyone was silent.

  The god threw out both arms. Elder Singer nodded.

  “He promises us good crops,” Elder Singer said.

  The god balled his fists, then dropped them as a fit of coughing seized him.

  “He sympathizes with our thirst and poverty,” Elder Singer pointed out

  The god pointed down his throat again, with a gesture so sad that several villagers began to weep.

  “He wants us to begin the dances over,” Elder Singer said. “Come, form the first figure.”

  “It means no such thing,” Glat said boldly, deciding that this was his moment.

  Everyone stared at him in shocked silence.

  “The god desires the Water Ceremony,” Glat said.

  A low gasp went up from the dancers. The Water Ceremony was part of the Alhona heresy, which Elder Singer profaned vigorously. But then, Elder Singer was old. Perhaps, Glat, the Younger Singer—

  “I will not allow it!” Elder Singer screamed. “The Water Ceremony comes after the feast, which comes after all the dances. Only in this way can we be rid of the Avoidance!”

  “The gods must be offered water!” Younger Singer shouted.

  Both looked for a sign from the gods, but the gods were watching them silently, with tired, bloodshot eyes.

  Then one of the gods coughed.

  “A sign!” Glat shouted, before Elder Singer could claim it for his own.

  Elder Singer argued, but to no avail. The villagers had heard.

  Water was brought in purified, painted jugs, and the dancers took their positions for the ceremony. The gods watched, croaking softly in their own language.

  “Now!” Younger Singer said. A water jug was brought forward. One of the gods reached for it. Then the other pushed him back and reached for it himself.

  The people murmured nervously.

  The first struck the other god feebly, and seized the water. The other took it back, and began raising it to his mouth. Then the first made a lunge, and the water jug was knocked off the mound.

  “I warned you!” Elder Singer screamed. “They rejected the water, as naturally they would. Take it away quickly, before we are doomed!”

  Two men snatched the water jugs and galloped away. The gods bellowed, then lay still.

  The Dance of Custom Inspection was begun at once, under Elder Singer’s orders. Again the sacred boughs were lighted, and waved at the gods. Feebly the gods coughed their approval. One tried to crawl off the mound, but fell on his face. The other lay, motionless.

  For a long time the gods lay, and made no sign.

  Younger Singer stood on the edge of the dancing. Why, he asked himself, had the gods deserted him?

  Could Alhona be wrong?

  The gods had rejected the water.

  Alhona had stated clearly that the only way to remove the mysterious Avoidance was to offer food and water at once. Had they waited too long?

  The ways of the gods were unknowable, Glat told himself sadly. Now his chance was gone forever. He might as well give his allegiance to Elder Singer.

  Slowly, he trotted back to the dance.

  Elder Singer decreed that the dances would begin again, and be danced for the full four days and nights. Then, if the gods approved, they would be offered the feast

  The gods made no sign. They lay at full length on the Sacred Mound, their limbs occasionally twitching, imitating men in the last stages of exhaustion and thirst.

  Clearly they were important gods. How else could they imitate so well?

  By morning, something happened. Even though Elder Singer had cancelled the Good Weather Dance, clouds began to form overhead. Great black ones they were, hiding the morning sun.

  “It will go away,” said Elder Singer, dancing the Rejection of Rain Dance.

  But the clouds opened, and rain began to fall.

  The gods stirred slowly, and turned their faces to the sky.

  “Bring wood!” Elder Singer shouted. “Bring thatch! The gods will curse the rain, which must not touch them until the ceremonies are over!”

  Glat, seeing another chance, said, “No! The gods themselves have commanded the rain!”

  “Take away the young heretic!” Elder Singer screamed. “Bring the thatch over here!”

  The men pulled Glat away, and began to build a hut around the gods, to protect them from the rain. Elder Singer himself began to thatch the roof, working quickly and reverently.

  The gods had been lying with their mouths open in the sudden, intense outburst. When they saw Elder Singer thatching a roof over them, they tried to stand up.

  Elder Singer worked faster, aware that he was profaning the Sacred Mound with his presence.

  The two gods looked at each other. Then one got slowly to his knees. The other placed both hands on him, and helped him up.

  The god stood, swaying drunkenly, gripping the hand of the reclining god. He pushed both hands against Elder Singer’s chest, suddenly and violently.

  Caught off balance, Elder Singer fell from the Sacred Mound, his legs kicking ludicrously. The god ripped the thatch from the roof, and helped the other god to his feet.

  “A sign!” Younger Singer screamed, struggling with the villagers. “A sign!”

  There was no denying it. Both gods were on their feet now, standing with their heads tilted back, mouths open to the rain.

  “Bring on the feast!” Glat shouted. “It is the command of the gods!”

  The villagers hesitated. Embracing the Alhona heresy was a serious step, and one that should be carefully thought out.

  But with Younger Singer now in command they had to risk it.

  And it seemed that Alhona was right. The gods showed their approval in a truly godly manner, stuffing huge amounts of food in their mouths in marvelous imitation of men, and guzzling beverages as though they were actually dying of thirst.

  Glat only wished he could speak their tongue, for he wanted to know why there had been an Avoidance in the first place.

  CARRIER

  In a world where men flew, Ecks was landbound; in a world of telepathic contact, he was reduced to clumsy words. Yet, for a psi cripple, he was an incredible adversary for the psi-powerful Health Agents, who pursued him, and a commendable guinea pig for his tormentors. Which is the gist of this fascinating yarn that takes you into a world where men flew and . . .

&nb
sp; EDWARD ECKS awoke, yawned and stretched. He squinted at the sunlight pouring in through the open east wall of his one-room apartment, and ordered his clothes to come to him.

  They didn’t obey! He wiped sleep from his eyes and ordered again. But the closet door remained stubbornly shut, and not a garment stirred.

  Thoroughly alarmed, Ecks swung out of bed and walked over to the closet. He began to phrase the mental command again, but stopped himself. He must not become panicky. If the clothes didn’t obey, it was because he was still half asleep.

  Deliberately he turned and walked to the east wall. He had rolled it up during the night and now he stood, bare toes gripping the edge, where the floor met the outside wall of the building, looking out at the city.

  It was early. The milkmen were out, soaring up to the terraces to deposit their milk. A man in full evening dress passed, flying like a wounded bird. Drunk, Ecks decided, noting how uncertain the man’s levitation sense was. The man banked, narrowly missing a building, dodged a milkman, misjudged the ground and fell the last two feet. Miraculously he held his balance, shook his head and continued on foot.

  Ecks grinned, watching him weave down the street. That was the safest place for him. No one ever used the streets, except the Normal’s, or psi’s who wanted to walk, for some reason. But levitating in his condition, he might get clipped by a teleported bale, or break his neck against a building.

  A newsboy floated past the window, goggles dangling from his hip pocket. The boy caught his breath and shot up, straight and true, to a twentieth floor penthouse.

  Ecks craned his neck to watch the boy land his paper on the sunny terrace and sweep on. A penthouse, Ecks thought. That was the life. He lived on the third floor of an ancient building—so old that it still had stairway and elevator. But once he had finished his courses at Mycrowski university—once he had his degree—

  There was no time for dreaming. Mr. Ollen didn’t like him to be late; and his job at Mr. Ollen’s store enabled him to attend the University.

  Ecks walked back, opened the closet and dressed. Then, thoroughly calm, he ordered the bed to make itself.

  A blanket half-lifted, wavered, and fell back on the bed. He ordered again, angrily. The sheets sluggishly straightened, the blankets slowly crawled into place. The pillow wouldn’t move.