Collected Tales (Jerry eBooks)

by Leslie F Stone

  “No,” he continued, “I do not feel at all traitorous because I have renounced my citizenship of the United States of America and substituted for it the citizenship of the Nation of Mentor.

  “A great many of the ‘original settlers’ of the States were criminals and convicts sent from England in order that the new colonies could be populated. Do we look down upon Britain because that was once her policy? Then why should we condemn these people for taking the best of womanhood from the countries round about to establish themselves?

  “True, it is hard to see it in that light and you may say my argument is illogical, but I am with the Mentorites to the last man and I will do everything in the world to help establish them. Some day they will have their place in the world and they will prove the superiority of wings over machinery!”

  That night Patriarch Mentor deigned us the favor of his presence in our ward. He came followed by the two aides that were never known to leave him, two large well-proportioned men of perhaps forty or fifty, winged and as stern-visaged as he.

  The Patriarch was a singularly tall man well over six feet, with wings of monster size. They were raven black, glossy and ashine in the shaded light of the room. His face was the face of a powerful man, a man whose entire life had been spent in attaining power; the sharp gimlet eyes and the hawk-like features with the sun-tanned swarthy skin accentuated all that. He was, I judged, forty years of age. He was clothed in a suit entirely covered with long black silky feathers. Sometimes he wore white, but never any other color.

  As I studied him I was suddenly aware of the fact that the description fitting him so well, corresponded with the newsbit concerning the abductor of Marian Hally; he also was blackwinged and hawk-faced. Later I learned that Marian Plally was one of his wives! So the Patriarch was not above doing a little kidnapping on his own.

  I was seated in my chair and Wormley was sprawled on his bed. As the personage entered the room I unconsciously arose to my feet. His very bearing was enough to inspire one with a sense of his majesty.

  A Challenge

  HE was the first to speak and his words came sharp and cutting.

  “Ah, Messers, you have indeed given Mentor an honor in condescending to pay us a visit,” he said, “and to throw your lot in with ours! We trust that you will learn to look upon Mentor as your own.” The glitter that shone in the dark eyes was the Patriarch’s manner of expressing keen enjoyment as well as laughter.

  “However,” he continued, “I regret, my friends, that your arrival accidentally broke your little machine and of course it will be impossible for you to find your way home through the jungles.”

  “In other words you are informing us that we are your prisoners, eh?” shot out Wormley.

  “One addresses the Patriarch as Sire!” One of the attendant aides spoke, fastening cold eyes upon the aviator.

  Wormley shrugged his shoulders. “You mean we are your prisoners . . . sire?” he repeated and I could only grin at the audacity of his slurred emphasis on the word.

  Again the gimlet eyes glittered. It could be seen that Mentor enjoyed a show of spunk.

  “You are mistaken, Pilot Wormley,” said the cold harsh voice, “we have no prisoners. When you have been entirely healed and found to be in good physical condition you will be given the freedom of Mentor. What the jungle holds for you we can not answer. You will find Mentor a pleasant place to dwell in, our rules are simple, our food plentiful. True, our amusements are not many, but our women are said to be . . . pretty, and we trust you will be glad to make your home with us.”

  “And if I do not come up to your physical standards . . . sire?” again the emphasis on the word.

  The Patriarch shrugged. “We allow no imperfect beings in our midst . . .”

  “Then, would I be allowed to return to my home, sire?”

  “The jungle lies before you!” and with that laconic statement he turned on his heel and with his shadows departed as quickly and silently as he had come.

  “Well, that’s that, gentlemen,” concluded Wormley. “He dares us to try to get out!”

  “I’m making no attempts to leave here until I discover all there is to know,” I declared.

  “And then you will continue to stay, my dear friend, if I judge that nice amiable gentleman right!”

  We both laughed uproariously as if it were a good joke, but I am sure that Wormley as well as myself felt just how tight the net lay about us. Surely others had tried to escape ere this and had they reached safety the world would have known.

  More Sightseeing

  THE following day I was given my discharge from the hospital after Doctor Morris had given me as thorough an examination as any man ever had. Evidently I proved to be physically fit as I was put in the charge of a youth whose wings were but little stumps between his shoulder blades. He led me to my new quarters through a long underground corridor. I have forgotten to note that from the first I had been wearing a suit of clothing exactly like the Mentorites, close fitting and feather embroidered.

  One could only marvel at the ingenuity of the Mentorites in constructing their city under the ground; it had taken hard labor and fine engineering to dig out the large chambers and tunnels beneath the jungle giants whose roots often could be seen enclosed in cement. It must also take care to keep alive the trees whose roots were so embedded.

  I was led into a fairly large chamber, the roof of which was upheld by a number of sturdy columns. This, I gathered was a lounge, for there were chairs, tables and settees placed conveniently about. The furnishings were of the simplest, being for the most part home-made specimens fashioned from small saplings and roughly finished. Cushions of native cloth were filled with soft feathers to relieve the body from sharp contact with the rough wood. The chair backs were very low for the benefit of the winged people. A carpet woven of rough dried grasses covered the cement floor. Everything was clean and neat and disinfectants were used to keep the air clean and sweet.

  Here and there on the wall were hung examples of Mentorian workmanship, tapestries woven from variegated feathers often depicting scenes from the life of the city as well as of the jungle, birds and flowers. Too, there were a number of paintings done by native artists that showed power and understanding. Skins of jungle creatures, jaguars, armadillos, tapirs and alligators were placed about. Yet with all these embellishments the plain severity of the room shone out with something like puritan simplicity.

  Several doorways opened from this general room, and through one I saw the long tables that bespoke the dining room. Odors emanating from there told of the noon-day meal in preparation.

  In passing through the lounge my guide, of course, had not stopped but took me directly through it to another corridor. The open doorways showed me fairly large-sized rooms with beds set in neat rows. He took me into one of these rooms. There were ten beds to the room, made of saplings with springs woven from hemp, mattresses that were filled with sweet smelling grasses and covered with thin blankets of feathers.

  This was one of the male dormitories. On the other side of the lounge were the rooms for women. The ceiling was rather high and I descried several openings in it and could feel the current of cool fresh air that came through them. I found that this ventilation was forced through the city by the means of great fans; the air, being brought in by big suction pumps, was cleansed and purified before it was distributed.

  Electric fixtures were fitted into the ceilings, fixtures that were of plain white glass, the lights burning throughout the day and night, until, at the proper hour, they were turned off simultaneously an one point in the city. Electricity was only source of power; they cooked with it as well as used it for lighting.

  Jim Learns the Rules

  MY guide pointed out the bed that was to be mine and on questioning I found that a bed was reserved for Wormley next to it. I was glad of that. The youth then gave me a number which was to be mine in the dining hall. Meals, I learned, were served at regular hours and woe to the one who was
tardy; he must go hungry until the next meal unless he could wheedle a bite from a kindly cook in the kitchen.

  Mentorian kitchens were models of modern equipage. A small army of workers prepared the foods, each man and woman employed there having his own routine laid out for him. The bins and closets that held the food supplies were roomy and beautifully kept, and even though the kitchens were underground not a bit of smoke ever lingered—for suction fans carried it off and the smoke itself was chemically dissolved so that not a wisp of it ever escaped. Too, great fans kept the air sweet and fresh.

  Life in the city was run by clock work. There was the hour to arise and the hour to retire, the hour for relaxation, the hours for work, and to deviate from the routine was considered a serious offense. Punishment was not meted out to the culprit, only there was the disapproval that shone in the eyes of his fellow; for a laggard as well as a sluggard was to Mentorites as bad as being a thief or a murderer.

  And to every man and woman was given a job either manual, clerical or executive whatever he or she were best suited for. Idleness was not tolerated.

  In each day’s schedule there was plenty of time for relaxation, and by relaxation was meant the hours that belonged to the individual to do with as he wished. There were hours for drill, for the winged people. This meant drilling in formation, army drill in other words. For the Earthbound and Captives it meant drilling to evacuate the city in record time, a sort of precautionary measure in case of fire or attack.

  Every flying man and woman belonged to a company and the officers were designated only during drill hours by a colored band around the forehead, and their rank was achieved only by work.

  Even the children had their drills and earned their places in the ranks only by their achievements. After seeing one of the drills I decided that Mentor was well defended. It was to be seen that they were never to be taken unawares by their enemies.

  I became very interested in the Mentor manner of child rearing. Children stayed with their mothers up to the age of five years when they were turned over to the educationalists trained specifically for their work. The children had their own lounges and dormitories, their class rooms, their hours for work, for play and drill; and beside their school work were small tasks and duties for them to perform.

  Nor did it appear to me as if these people suffered for the loss of what we on the Outside consider our heritage, the right of the individual. They were healthy, strong, happy, normal. There were no police nor courts for the simple reason that there were no thieves, no madmen, no vicious tri-cornered affairs that necessitated litigation; no murders, no divorce. Children were as gay and happy as if they had a mother’s care, as joyous and carefree as any child upon the Outside; more so, I should say, since there were no class distinctions, no race prejudices, no snobbishness; the same abundance of food, the same clothing, toys and play hours. What more could children want? Love? Could any normal man or woman help but love the little things? They had their little friendships, their little loves, the comfort of each other’s arms and guardians who had only kind words and loving pats for them. A teacher who mistreated a child was taken from her charges and put to other work.

  For the adults there were their own friendships, their mates, their amusements. A man had a right to take the woman he loved to mate, but he was not compelled to take her for life. True many a man or woman took upon themselves a single mate for their life-time and they were happy in each other’s love and lived their full happy days knowing that with the end of the days they would have each other again. And there was the pure blue sky and the bright sun above into which one could plunge or climb to the dizzy heights, race with the birds and look about and survey the world as far as the eye could see. He could know that he is the happiest of all creatures on Earth because he possessed the medium to express his soul’s desire . . . wings . . . to climb with the eagle . . . to sing with the lark!

  Amusements they had, too. There were races run in the clearings, tournaments held in the air, pageants enacted, plays performed. There were sing-songs, games, competitive drills. There‘were five holidays in the Mentorian calendar. One marked the birthday of Howard Mentor, their common ancestor; one for the day on which the Scotch ship had put to sea; one for the arrival in Brazil; one for the settlement of present Mentor; one for the birthday of the reigning Patriarch. On these days there were opening prayers and no work was done except such chores as were absolutely necessary.

  Could life be more complete anywhere else on the globe?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ready For Work

  FOR a week I was given the freedom of the city. I wandered down one corridor and up another; into chamber after chamber, up the steps to the jungle or down to the lower levels where were the workshops. Here men and women worked alike, making cloth, skinning birds, plucking and sorting feathers, tanning the skins, and manufacturing all kinds of necessities that were not purchased from the Outside. There were furniture shops, mechanical shops, a sugar refinery that treated the raw sugar as it came from the plantation.

  Throughout the city were many small swimming pools distributed on the third level, and here I spent a great deal of time in the cool water that was brought underground from the rivers hereabouts. The winged people were not very good swimmers, in fact, they never went into the water to swim but rather to bathe. To wet their wings meant many hours to be spent in drying them. They kept the feathers clean with oil baths, and there were a number of chambers devoted to their care just as there were the tonsorial parlors to keep their hair and beards neatly trimmed.

  I visited the hospital often for Wormley was still confined and Miss Lois was usually about. She and I had become fast friends. She, I had learned, was a cousin of the Patriarch and she was a head nurse in the hospital directing the work of the nurses under her. There were a good number of doctors whom Doctor Morris trained; conducting a school for their benefit. He was kept rather busy traveling from one hospital to another in the settlements supervising the work and taking charge of the most serious cases.

  I learned that Mentor was equipped with the telephone system so that all the cities were linked together and there was also a radio hook-up! The Patriarch had a giant receiving set in his own quarters and often we were given musical concerts from all over the world.

  Almost every day new recruits were arriving in the Detention Camp some twenty-five miles beyond Mentor. I could only wonder what this would eventually bring. It seemed as if the hour had almost struck for Mentor to announce herself to the world.

  In the meantime I knew that my time was growing short. The usual procedure with the newcomers was to give them a few days of idleness in which to learn all they could about the nation of Mentor; then they were required to state their preference for the type of work they should like to do best, and more than a week of idleness would not be tolerated. In fact, I was anxious to be up and doing, for the enforced idleness was becoming unbearable, especially in a world where everyone was busy.

  It was Wormley who made a suggestion of what type of work I could accomplish here in the city and I was directed to seek out the Patriarch for his approbation. I found him in his quarters which formed the hub of the city. I had to wait in an anteroom until my turn came for an audience. After an hour’s wait I was ushered into the presence.

  The room in which I found the Patriarch was furnished in Spartan simplicity, a table and three or four chairs were the only pieces of furniture. A grass rug covered the floor and behind the Patriarch’s chair was the full length portrait of a man whom I immediately judged to be Howard Mentor, a dark-visaged man with the piercing eyes of one who had spent a life-time in realizing an ambition. He was dressed in the colorful costume of the sixteenth century.

  The Patriarch merely nodded his head by way of recognition when I entered the chamber and he heard me through, quietly, as I outlined my plan for establishing a newspaper by which Mentor might be informed of all that took place in the various settlements and what news filter
ed in from the Outside. I rapidly explained plans for various departments and for the training of printers, reporters, et cetera.

  The gimlet eyes bored me through, but somehow I felt an awe for the handsome man. I think I judged him right, for in him I saw a very human man with a deep sense of humor as well as honor. I had admired him intensely from the start and now I found I had not placed my regard improperly. Here was a man of power who could take his place in the world among kings.

  After finished speaking he nodded his head slowly, and his cold hard voice spoke in his rapid emphatic way. “I expected as much from you, James Kennedy. Once a newsman always a newsman, eh?” and his eyes glittered. I grinned.

  “That will be all,” he shot at me. “Your suggestion will be considered and you will be advised as to my decision.”

  And I was dismissed.

  I went back to Wormley and told him of the rather one-sided interview. “He sure is one cussed gentleman,” laughed the aviator, “but I don’t know but that I like him. Wouldn’t mind a good poker game with him!”

  Strange Stories

  A SECOND week went by and I heard nothing from the Patriarch. I was impatient to start something for time was hanging rather heavily on my hands. I visited and revisited the workshops, the schools, the playgrounds. I spent a great amount of time above ground in the clearings. People went past me as they hurried about their duties, and only during the hours of recreation could I mingle freely with them. I made the acquaintance of a number of the captives, girls who seemed happy in their new strange life. I heard some of them complain, but on the whole it appeared that they were content, or at least had accepted their lot with proper spirit. They had all been given work according to their own interests and those who had no interests were being taught simple tasks.

  There were not only female captives, but quite a number of men who, like the women, had been spirited away. Several were aviators who like ourselves had fallen to the toil of the Machine. Of those that had been kidnapped two of them interested me the most with their stories.