the kids?"
"I kinda think they were among the first," I says. I waves at thestarry sky. "There's probably a planet up there some place wherethere's nothing but hot rods and football stadiums. And I supposethere's one section of the universe fenced off for all the JuniorSpacemen that'll be roaming around it."
Anybody you could think of mighta had a reason for leaving, I toldhim. The boys at Schultz's probably took off for a world where MarilynMonroe has a thousand twin sisters; and Johnny Douglas, the ace atKelly's Bowling Alley, is probably located on a world where it'simpossible to bowl anything but a three hundred game.
By then, we were in front of Joe's house. It was as dark and curtainedas the others.
* * * * *
The house was empty. The blinds had been drawn, the dishes neatlystacked and put away, and a note left on the doorstoop telling themilkman not to bring any more milk.
The note to Joe was on the kitchen table. It was hard for Joe to readon accounta it was blurred in spots where Marge had been crying andthe tears had fallen on the paper. It told Joe--among a whole mess ofother things--that she thought she had married a man, not a radio set,and since everybody was using them she was going to visit a _Paradise_booth that night.
"What am I going to do?" Joe asks remorsefully.
"That's your problem," I says heartlessly, thinking of all the chilidinners that went with Marge. "You made the booths in the firstplace."
"Yeah, I know." He pulls out a wad of papers from his pocket andthumbs through them. "I got contracts here for a _Paradise_ booth inevery town over five thousand population. I could be a millionaire ina month."
"Joe," I says, suddenly frightened, "don't do it. Look what happenedhere in Fremont. Why man, if you put those things all over the countrythere wouldn't be a soul left in the United States after a month hadgone by."
"You're right, Harry," he says. "Absolutely right." And he takes acigarette lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the papers andlets them burn 'til they're nothing but ashes.
"What are you gonna do with the booths in town?" I ask.
He goes down to the basement and comes up with a hatchet. "Come on,"he says grimly. "I'll show you what I'm going to do with them!"
The first two we chop in small pieces until the walk is covered withcogs and wheels and smashed tubes and dials. We stop at the third one.That was the fanciest one of all, with the leather upholstery insideand the big red neon sign on top that you could read halfway acrosstown.
Joe stares at it for a long minute, then makes up his mind. He fishesaround in his pocket for a coin.
"What do you think you're going to do?" I asks, alarmed.
"I'm going to look for Marge," he says. "I need a vacation anyways."
"How you gonna find her, Joe?" I asks. "You don't even know what kindof a world to look for!"
"Yes, I do," Joe says wistfully. "It'll be the kind of world whereMarge always wanted to spend a vacation. Some place like up inMassachusetts during the summer. White beaches, little wooden houses,fishing boats and lobster pots.... She's described it to me so often Icould picture it down to the last pebble on the beach."
He gets into the booth.
"Think you'll ever be back, Joe?" I asks.
He drops a quarter in the coin slot and a picture builds up on thescreen of a beach with a little town in the distance.
"Sure," Joe says confidentially. "We'll be back." And then there's aflash of blue light and Joe's gone, too.
I hung around for a couple of days afterward but Joe and Marge nevercame back. I think he found her all right but Marge didn't wantanything to do with the old world so they just stayed there.
And that's about all there is, son. Except I've often wondered whathappened when strangers drove through and found Fremont a ghosttown....
* * * * *
Now, lookahere, son, it's no cause for you to go calling me a liarjust because you never heard of Stellar Electric and Fremont ain'tlisted on any map you've got. You didn't expect me to stay behind wheneverybody else had left, did you? I always had a hankerin' for adifferent type of world, too.
A world where a body didn't have to work so blamed hard and totalstrangers would be willin' to listen to my stories and buy me abeer....
...THE END
The Worlds of Joe Shannon Page 3
