"At least," said Duare, "if we can retain our sense of humor we shall not be entirely miserable—if I could only forget the horrible thing we just witnessed while you were asleep."
"What was that?" asked Ero Shan.
"One of these creatures had an epileptic fit, and fell apart," I explained. "Have you ever seen anything like that?"
"Often," he said.
"The halves seemed to be still alive when they carried them away," said Duare.
"They were," Ero Shan told her. "You see, these creatures are amoebic neuters; and their dividing is the physiological phenomenon of reproduction. There are neither males nor females among them; but more or less periodically, usually after enjoying an orgy of eating and drinking, they divide into two parts, like the amoeba and other of the Rhizopada. Each of these parts grows another half during a period of several months, and the process continues. Eventually, the older halves wear out and die; sometimes immediately after the division and sometimes while still attached, in which case the dead half merely falls away, and the remaining half is carted off to make itself whole. I understand that this division occurs about nine times during the life of a half.
"They are without sentiments of love, friendship, or any of the finer characteristics of normal human beings; and because they cannot create their kind, they have no creative genius in art or letters; they can copy beautifully, but are without imagination, except of the lowest order.
"Their reception of you was typical. Being weaklings, averse to physical combat, they use hypocrisy as a weapon. Their singing, their dancing, their flower throwing are all instruments of deception; while they were feting you, they were having your placards lettered; duplicity is their outstanding characteristic."
"Is there no escape?" asked Duare.
"There is a man near me who comes from a city called Amlot, somewhere in Anlap, who tells me he has been here fully a hundred years and that in all that time no one has escaped."
"Oh, why couldn't they have killed us!" exclaimed Duare; "it would have been much kinder."
"The Vooyorgans are not kind," Ero Shan reminded her.
We slept. A new day came, bringing its string of sightseers. The creature that had shown an interest in Duare came early, and stood staring at her—whether in admiration or dislike, I could not tell. Unlike the others, it did not smile. Finally it came close and touched her leg.
"Get away from there!" I shouted.
It shrank back, startled; then it looked at me, and said, "I would not harm the woman."
"Who are you, anyway?" I demanded, "and why are you hanging around my mate? She is not for you; no woman is for you."
The creature sighed; it really looked unhappy. "I am Vik-yor," it said. "I am not like my fellows. I am different. I do not know why. I do not enjoy what they enjoy—eating and drinking until they fall apart. I shall never fall apart; I shall never divide; I am no good to myself nor to anyone else. If I could be always with such as she, I would be happy."
After a while Vik-yor went away. His name, or number, indicated that he was of the royal caste. "How did he happen?" I asked Ero Shan.
"He is a sport," he explained; "they occur occasionally, especially in the older, or royal caste. This one may have been part of a division of Vik-vik-vik; when it grew its other half, it was identical with the original half, and there was no line of demarcation between the two halves—no line of cleavage. I suppose that, like the first amoebae which must have had a tendency to develop into some higher form of life, these creatures show the same tendency by not dividing; possibly it is a step toward a form of human being like ourselves."
"It will take several million years and nothing short of a miracle," said Duare.
"The fact that he is so definitely attracted to you," said Ero Shan, "would indicate that he is groping for something better and nobler than just being an amoeba. Why don't you encourage him a little?—I mean be kind to him. A friend here might be a very valuable asset."
Duare shuddered. "They are all so repulsive to me," she said. "I am always expecting them to fall apart."
"Vik-yor can't fall apart," Ero Shan reminded her.
"Well, that is at least something in his favor. Perhaps I'll try what you suggest, Ero Shan. It can't do any harm. I might even try being what Carson calls a vamp and make Vik-yor fall in love with me," she said, laughing.
"I think he already has," I said.
"Jealous?" demanded Duare.
"Of an amoeba? Scarcely."
"I think he is a male amoeba," teased Duare; "he has already learned to paw."
Chapter XXXIV
WELL, Vik-yor kept coming to the museum every day; and now we all tried to be decent to him. His devotion to Duare was almost doglike, and she quite startled me by encouraging him. It didn't seem possible that Duare of Vepaja, the daughter of a thousand jongs, who had been brought up to consider herself as near a goddess as the Vepajans know, could try to arouse the love of such a creature as Vik-yor.
I joked about it. "If I were only an amoeba," I said, "you would not have scorned my love for so long as you did; you would have sought after me and made love to me yourself."
"Don't be horrid," said Duare; "to win our freedom, I would make love to a Myposan."
"Do you think you are going to win our freedom?" I asked.
"I am going to try," she said.
"But what good would freedom do three people paralyzed from the neck down?"
"There is freedom in death," she said.
"You mean you are going to try to get Vik-yor to kill us?" I demanded.
"As a last resort," she replied; "wouldn't that be better than life here?—the man from Amlot has been here a hundred years!"
"But Vik-yor would never kill you," said Ero Shan.
"He wouldn't know he was killing me."
"How do you plan on doing it?" I asked.
"I am going to teach Vik-yor how to use your r-ray pistol," she explained, "and tell him that if he will put it against our hearts and squeeze the trigger, we'll all join him outside and run away, as that will liberate our other selves from the flesh that now holds them."
"What makes you think he wants to run away with you?" I demanded.
"I have learned much about men since I left my father's palace in Vepaja."
"But Vik-yor is not a man," I argued.
"He's getting there," said Duare with a twinkle in her eye.
"He's just a damn rhizopod," I growled; "and I don't like him."
The next day, when he came around, Duare really went to work on him. "I should think you would be bored to death here in Voo-ad," she said; "you are so different from all the others."
Vik-yor really smiled. "Do you think I am?" he asked.
"Certainly I do," cooed Duare. "You should be out in the world where there are things to see and things to do—where there are life and action and beautiful women."
"The most beautiful woman in the world is here," said Vik-yor, getting bold. "Oh, Duare, you are the most beautiful thing I ever saw!"
"And paralyzed from the neck down," said Duare. "Now, if I were not paralyzed and we were set free, we could all go out into the world in our anotar and have a wonderful time."
"Do you mean that you would take me?" he asked.
"Of course," said Duare.
"Could I be with you always?" he demanded. It was a good thing for Vik-yor that I was paralyzed.
"You could be with me as much as possible," said Duare.
Vik-yor looked at her for a long time—one of those devouring, possessive looks that send husbands to the upper dresser drawer looking for the family gun.
Vik-yor came close to Duare. "I can free you," he whispered, but I heard him.
"How?" demanded the practical Duare.
"There is an antidote for the poison that paralyzed you," explained Vik-yor. "It is necessary that this be kept on hand; for sometimes, when they have drunk too much wine, our own people make a mistake and drink the poison intended for a potential exhibit. A singl
e drop on the tongue, neutralizes the poison in the nerve centers."
"When will you bring it?" asked Duare, "and how can you give it to us and free us without the guards knowing?"
"I shall come at night and bring poisoned wine to the guards," explained Vik-yor; "then I can free you, and we can escape from the city."
"We shall be very grateful," said Duare, "and we will take you with us."
"I shall free only you," said Vik-yor; "these others mean nothing to me; and I do not wish your mate along, anyway."
For an amoeba, Vik-yor seemed to be doing quite well along evolutionary lines; he was by now at least a louse. What the future held for him, I could not predict—unless I became rid of my paralysis; then, I was sure, my prophetic powers would approach the miraculous. So it didn't want me along!
To that proposition of Vik-yor, Duare shook her head. "I will not go without Carson of Venus and Ero Shan," she said.
"I will not free them," replied Vik-yor; "I do not like him;" he nodded in my direction. "He does not like me. I think he would like to kill me, and I am afraid of him."
"Would you kill Vik-yor, if you were free, Carson ?"
"Not if he behaves himself," I replied.
"You see!" said Duare; " Carson says that he will not kill you if you behave yourself."
"I will not free him," replied Vik-yor, stubbornly. Evidently he didn't intend to behave himself.
"Very well," said Duare, "there is nothing more to be said on the subject; but if you will not do that much for me, you needn't come and talk to me any more. Please go away."
Vik-yor hung around for a while trying to get Duare to talk to him; but she wouldn't say a word, and finally he walked away and left the building.
"That is that," I said; "our little scheme has failed; the triangle is disrupted; your boy friend has gone off in a huff, and you will not see him again."
"You don't know your amoebae," retorted Duare; "it will be back."
"I have a plan, Duare," I said. "It would be better for one of us to escape, than for all of us to remain here forever. You have that opportunity, and there is no reason why Ero Shan and I should keep you from taking advantage of it."
"Never!" said Duare. "I will never go without you and Ero Shan."
"Listen," I said; "let Vik-yor free you; then take my r-ray pistol. I think you know enough about the construction of the anotar to replace the propeller with Vik-yor's help. If you can't get away without him, you can always use the pistol on him if you find it necessary. Fly to Sanara; I am positive it lies almost due south of us. Once there, I am sure that Taman will send an expedition to rescue Ero Shan and me."
"That is the best plan yet," said Ero Shan.
"I don't like the idea of going off and leaving you two," demurred Duare.
"It is our only chance," I told her; "but if Vik-yor doesn't come back, we'll not have even this chance."
"Vik-yor will come back," said Duare. It's amazing how well women know males—even male amoebae—for Vik-yor did come back. It was a couple of days before he came—two days of agonizing uncertainty. I could almost have hugged him when I saw him sidling in our direction. He was pretending to be deeply interested in some other exhibits. I don't know why I keep calling it he; but I suppose that when you know something has fallen in love with your wife, you just naturally don't think of it as it.
Anyway, it finally reached us. Paying no attention to Ero Shan or me, it hesitated before Duare. "Oh, you're back, Vik-yor!" she exclaimed; "I am so glad to see you. You've changed your mind, haven't you? You're going to let us all go away with you, out into that beautiful world I have told you about."
"No," said Vik-yor. "I will take you, but not the others; and if you will not come willingly, I intend to poison these two at the same time that I poison the guards; then you'll have to come with me alone, or be killed; for when Vik-vik-vik discovers that the effects of the poison have worn off, he will have you destroyed."
"Go with him, Duare," I said; "never mind us."
Vik-yor looked at me in surprise. "Maybe I have been mistaken in you," it said.
"You certainly have," Duare assured it. " Carson is a very nice person, and we really should have him along in case we get into trouble; he's an excellent swordsman."
"No!" snapped Vik-yor. "I know why you want him along; you like him better than you do me. That is why I was going to poison him anyway before we left, but now I may change my mind."
"You'd better," exclaimed Duare, vehemently, "for if you harm him in any way, I'll kill you! Do you understand that? I'll go with you, but only on condition that no harm comes to Carson of Venus or Ero Shan."
"Very well," agreed Vik-yor. "I want you to like me; so I'll do all that I can to please you—except take these two with us."
"Is the anotar all right?" she asked him. "Have the people damaged it in any way?"
"It is all right," replied Vik-yor; "it stands in the plaza just where you left it."
"And the part that fell off—do you know where that is?"
"Yes, and I can get it any time I wish; all I have to do is take poisoned wine to the home of the one who found it."
"When will you come for me?" asked Duare.
"Tonight," replied Vik-yor.
Chapter XXXV
"YOUR BOY FRIEND is the de' Medici of the amoebae," I remarked after Vik-yor had left us.
"It is horrible!" exclaimed Duare. "I shall feel like a murderess myself."
"You will be an accessory before the fact," I twitted her, "and so, equally guilty."
"Please don't joke about it," she begged.
"I am sorry," I said, "but to me these creatures are not human; poisoning them would be the same to me as spraying oil on a stagnant pond to kill off mosquito larvae."
"Yes," added Ero Shan; "don't let it depress you; think of what they have done to us; they deserve no consideration nor pity from us."
"I suppose you are right," admitted Duare; "but, right or wrong, I'm going through with it."
The remainder of that day dragged on like a bad dream in clay up to one’s knees. When no sightseers or guards were near us, we went over our plans again and again. I urged on Duare the advisability of attempting to make at least a crude map of the country she would cover while searching for Sanara. She could estimate distances rather closely by the ground speed of the anotar, and her compass would give her direction at all times. By noting all outstanding landmarks on her map, she would be able to turn over to Taman some very valuable data for the rescue expedition.
Of course we had no idea of the distance to Sanara. Anlap, the land mass on which it was located, might be a relatively small island, or it might be a continent; I was inclined to think that it was the latter; Sanara might be three thousand or five thousand miles from Voo-ad. Even were it close, it might take Duare a long time to find it; you can't land any old place on Amtor and ask directions, even when there is any one to ask. Duare would have to find Sanara and recognize it before she would dare land. She might be a year finding it; she might never find it. As she would have to come down occasionally for food and water, there would always be the risk of her being captured or killed—and then there was Vik-yor! I certainly was going to be in for a lot of worrying—maybe for years; maybe for the rest of my life—worry and vain regret.
At long last night fell. More hours passed, and Vik-yor did not come. Only the guards remained in the museum—the guards and the living dead. A basto bellowed. How the dickens they ever got some of the big beasts they had on exhibit, I'll never know. A basto stands fully six feet tall at the shoulder and weighs twelve hundred pounds or more. Singing and dancing around one of them and throwing flowers at it wouldn't get you anything but a goring; then it would eat you.
The bellowing of the basto started off the rest of the lower animals, including the nobargans, which growl and roar like beasts. We were treated to a diapason of savage discord for fully an hour; then they stopped as unaccountably as they had started.
"
Your boy friend must have got cold feet," I remarked to Duare.
"Why would cold feet keep him from coming?" she wanted to know.
"I keep forgetting that you're not from the land of the free and the home of the brave."
"Where's that?" asked Ero Shan.
"It is bounded on the north by Canada , on the south by the Rio Grande , on the east by the Atlantic Ocean , and on the west by the Pacific."
"That must be in deepest Strabol," said Ero Shan, "for I never heard of one of those places."
"Here comes Vik-yor!" exclaimed Duare, excitedly.
"Your gigolo comes!" I said, rather nastily I'm afraid.
"What is a gigolo?" asked Duare.
"A form of life lower than an amoeba."
"I am afraid that you do not like Vik-yor, my darling," said Duare.
"I am glad that there was a comma in your voice at the right place," I said.
"Don't be silly," said Duare.
I am inclined to believe that every one as much in love as I am with Duare waxes silly occasionally. Of course, I knew that Duare loved me; I knew that I could trust her to the ends of the world—but! That is a funny thing about love—that but. The thought that that pussy, amoebic neuter was in love with her, or as nearly so as the thing could understand love, and that it was going to be with her for an indefinite time, while I hung on a wall, dead from the neck down, got my goat. If you are a man and if you are in love, you will know just how I felt.
Vik-yor was carrying a jug. Knowing what was in the jug would have given me a strange sensation, if I could have felt any sensations; but I did fell disgust for the sneaking thing that would take the life of its own fellows.
He came up to Duare. "Is it all arranged?" she asked—"the anotar? the propeller?"
"Yes," it replied; "and we are very fortunate, for tonight Vik-vik-vik is giving a banquet; and every one will be so drunk that we can get away without being detected."
"You have the antidote?"
It withdrew a small vial from one of its pocket pouches and held it up to her. "This is it."
"Give me some right away," begged Duare.
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