Ports of Call

by Jack Vance

  “What about the second article?”

  “It is different, in both tone and content, and certainly more consequential. Unfortunately, explicit details are carefully guarded. The author, who uses the pseudonym ‘Serena’, seems to be a woman native to the area. She describes some very advanced research conducted on a remote world she calls ‘Kodaira’. The thrust of the work is entirely therapeutic. The goal is to repair or reverse the effects of aging; there is no tinkering with the genes. The editor’s foreword to the article is inspiring. It reads:

  “‘Kodaira is known as the “World of Laughing Joy” and the “Place of Resurgent Youth”. The source of this wonderful ambience is the unique fountain known as Exxil Waters, where a scientist called Doctor Maximus (not his real name) first studied the remarkable power of the water and eventually evolved the science of metachronics. The author knows the world Kodaira intimately, and uses the pseudonym ‘Serena’ to safeguard her privacy. Originally a scientist in her own right, Serena now resides in the vicinity of Salou Sain, where she devotes her time to writing articles based upon her experience as a comparative botanist. The editorial staff considers the following article to be one of the most important ever published on Vermazen.’”

  Dame Hester looked sidewise to assure herself that Myron was paying attention. She asked, “What do you think of that?”

  “I think that now I understand your interest in the world Kodaira.”

  Dame Hester spoke with muted annoyance, “Sometimes, Myron, your apathy becomes dreadfully tiresome.”

  “Sorry.”

  Dame Hester thrust the journal at him. “Read for yourself.”

  Myron politely accepted the journal and fixed his attention upon the article. It bore the title: “For the Select Few: Regeneration”. Myron started to read: at first, languidly, then with increasing interest. Serena described Doctor ‘Maximus’: “He is a tireless little man of enormous zest, who bounces, rather than walks, from place to place. He is impatient with prejudice, stupidity and cant, and rejects both social acclaim and social censure, and most of all the sheer weight of society. This is one reason why he continues to work on the remote world we shall call Kodaira. The second and more important reason is the fountain known as Exxil Waters.”

  Serena went on to describe what she called ‘the real Fountain of Youth’. “The water arises in a volcanic spring from deep within the world, where it encounters a variety of complex minerals. It seeps through a dense jungle, absorbing virtue from herbs, molds and deep decaying humus. Finally it flows, pale green and faintly effervescent, into Exxil Pool. Doctor Maximus, a biologist by training, became interested in the unique newt-like creatures which inhabit the mud surrounding the pool. He noticed their hardihood and longevity, which far exceeded that of similar individuals elsewhere. After tests and analyses, he threw caution aside and drank the water. The results were encouraging. In the end he developed a therapeutic regimen, which initially was tested by volunteers. Finally, Doctor Maximus organized the New Age Clinic and began to treat clients who could pay the not inconsiderable fee.”

  Serena, with her husband, came to Kodaira in order to conduct botanical research. Serena chanced upon the Clinic and applied for regenerative therapy. She undertook the regimen. The results were entirely to her satisfaction.

  “Doctor Maximus meanwhile continues his research, hoping to improve the program and discover the basic processes involved in the therapy. At the moment he believes that a variety of factors cooperate to synergistic effect, and he wants to optimize active factors and reduce the sometimes irksome aspects of the regimen. He is aware that the therapy is not yet perfected and suspects that it may never be so, owing to the complexity of the systems involved. Meanwhile, he insists that the location of the clinic be kept secret, in order to avert a pell-mell onrush of the lame, halt and moribund. By the same token, he refuses to theorize as to whether his work, in the end, will benefit society, or the reverse.”

  Myron put the journal aside. Dame Hester asked tartly, “Are you tongue-tied? What is your opinion?”

  “Interesting, but vague and mysterious. Also highly expensive.”

  Dame Hester stared at him incredulously. “‘Expensive’? What else is money good for? Doctor Maximus sells youth and life and vivacity! How can a price be set on such commodities?”

  Myron reflected. “I expect that Doctor Maximus charges whatever the traffic will bear.”

  Dame Hester made a sound of disgust and went back to her reading. After a time she looked up. “Tomorrow you can put your expensive education to some practical use. Go early to the Cosmological Library and systematically explore its resources. Consult all the indexes, trace down every reference, give your intuition full scope. For once in your life show a modicum of persistence. Achieve results! Find Kodaira!”

  3

  Two days passed. Myron, responding to his great-aunt’s instructions, had searched the voluminous files of the Cosmological Library without result. He had become convinced that ‘Kodaira’ was a name improvised for the occasion, and he so informed Dame Hester. She accepted the judgment without surprise. “It is as I suspected. Well, no matter. Tomorrow we will attend Sir Regis Glaxen’s garden party. Dauncy Covarth has kindly agreed to be my escort of course, but there may be persons present whom I will want you to meet.”

  “Why me? Let them meet your chum Dauncy.”

  “Not another word, if you please. Be sure to dress appropriately; this will be a notable occasion.”

  “Oh well; just as you like,” Myron grumbled. “I still can’t understand any of this.”

  “You will, in due course. It is truly important, and I may well need your most active and alert intelligence.”

  Myron had no further remark to make, and on the following day he accompanied Dauncy Covarth and Dame Hester to Sir Regis Glaxen’s garden party. Dame Hester had chosen to appear in an exciting ensemble consisting of a burnt orange blouse, deeply cleft, and a full lime-green skirt with a slit up the left side. The slit from time to time revealed a goodly length of left leg, which was encased in a yellow silk stocking. The leg was long and thin, the knee was knobby, but Dame Hester felt certain that pulses quickened and hormones raced whenever the slit allowed a glimpse of the lank member.

  Sir Regis Glaxen’s occasion was, as usual, notable for the perfect verdure of his trees and flowers, the sweep of his lawns, the opulence of the buffet and the éclat of his guests. Dame Hester’s standards, however, were extraordinarily rigid. As she entered the garden, she halted and appraised the company with a darting sweep of her sharp black eyes. It was, so she decided, a mixed bag, and included a number of persons with whom she was not prepared to associate. Meanwhile, the persons whom she especially wished to see were not in evidence. Restraining her annoyance, she allowed Dauncy Covarth to lead her to a table at the side of the lawn, in the shade of a great flowering hyssop tree. Dauncy seated her with punctilious gallantry. Myron thought the display, which had included a clicking of the heels, somewhat excessive, but Dame Hester accepted the attention with complacence. A waiter approached and Dauncy, with an air of wise expertise, ordered Pongola Punch for all.

  Sir Regis Glaxen appeared: a round-faced gentleman of middle age, plump, pink and cheerful. He bent and kissed Dame Hester’s cheek. “You’ll find this very strange,” he told her. “I could not see your face because that hyssop branch hung in the way. What I saw was a lovely yellow leg, and instantly I said to myself: ‘Dear me! Surely I recognize that leg! It is the property of Hester Lajoie, the most ravishing of women!’ The yellow leg told me all I needed to know. In my haste to join you, I tripped over a petunia, but suffered nothing and here I am.”

  “Ah, flattery!” cried Dame Hester. “I like to hear it, even when it’s a transparent lie. I never want it to stop.”

  “This is an enchanted garden, where nothing begins and nothing ends,” declared Sir Regis stoutly. “Eschatology is a dangerous lore!”

  Dame Hester knit her brows. “I scarcel
y know how to spell the word, let alone comment upon its vagaries.”

  Sir Regis seated himself. “There is no past and no future; only the twinkling flicker of an instant which is the present. Tell me this, my dear Hester! Have you ever thought to measure the exact duration of that instant? I have tried, but I know less now than ever. Is it a tenth of a second? A full second? Or the hundredth part of a second? The more you ponder, the more confused you become. The idea is diaphanous, and cannot be grasped!”

  “Yes, all very interesting. I will think about it, or perhaps I shall have Myron do a calculation. Meanwhile, you may tell me who will be on hand today.”

  Sir Regis looked with rueful skepticism around the garden. “I’m not sure that I know. Sometimes I think I am entertaining half the riff-raff of Salou Sain, none of whom I have invited. Still, they are often quite amusing, and they drink my best wines with truly flattering gusto.”

  “You mentioned that you were inviting a certain publisher in whom I had an interest.”

  “So I did. You refer, I believe, to Jonas Chay, who — with a straight face, mind you — disseminates the Vegetarian Herald.”

  Dame Hester spoke with dignity: “I prefer to associate him with Innovative Salubrity, which is a more serious work.”

  “It may well be. Still, I fear I cannot supply Jonas Chay, who apparently has better things to do.” Sir Regis looked around the garden and pointed. “Notice that tall gentleman yonder with the face of a herring. That is Chay’s assistant editor; will he serve as an acceptable substitute?”

  Dame Hester surveyed the gentleman in question, who wore a black suit, a brown cravat and long pointed yellow-brown shoes.

  “He may be more debonair than he looks,” said Dame Hester. “I would be pleased if you would introduce him to me.”

  Sir Regis dutifully went off and brought back the tall gentleman. “This is Ostvold Socroy, who assists Jonas Chay with Innovative Salubrity; and here Dame Hester Lajoie, one of my favorite bon vivants and the new proprietress of a fine space-yacht, the Glodwyn.”

  “I am pleased to meet you,” said Dame Hester. “Sit down, if you please, and tell me about yourself.”

  Ostvold Socroy complied with the request. “There is little to tell. I work in the realm of ideas. I think, I judge, I communicate, I redirect.”

  Dame Hester listened patiently, making an occasional comment, smiling graciously from time to time, even though there was little about Socroy to charm her. He was thin and bony, with a long pale face, a black beard, and a high forehead. Dame Hester might have forgiven him his appearance, had it not been for his manner, which was smilingly tolerant, as if he found Dame Hester’s foibles amusing but of no great interest. She was further prejudiced by his refusal to ingest anything other than herbal tea, which protected him from the antics induced by strong drink.

  Socroy said at last, “But surely that is enough of me and my concerns. Tell me something about your space-yacht!”

  “There is little to tell,” said Dame Hester politely. “It is a new acquisition.”

  “That is truly exciting!” declared Socroy. “I’m sure that you are enthralled by the possibilities which are now open to you?”

  Dame Hester spoke in a reedy voice. “I am not the intrepid spacefarer you assume me to be. For a fact, I have seen the vessel only once. I am told that it is quite sturdy. The hull is nicely enamelled in pleasing colors. The internal appointments appear to be comfortable. My friends want me to undertake a cruise, but my social calendar will not permit it. Still, perhaps someday — who knows?”

  Ostvold Socroy laughed graciously. “When that time comes, I hope that you will consider placing me on your guest list. I know several card tricks and I play chansons on the lute. I fancy that I can make myself both amusing and entertaining.”

  “That is good to know,” said Dame Hester. “I will make a memorandum of what you have told me.” Dame Hester brought a slip of paper from her hand pouch and wrote upon it. “I suppose you can always be reached at your offices.”

  “Of course! Call me any time you like!”

  Dame Hester nodded. “What with your knowledge of the publishing business, you should make a valuable addition to such a cruise. I suppose that you determine which articles appear in, let us say, Innovative Salubrity?”

  “Well yes, to a certain extent.”

  “Did you arrange for the two articles on the subject of revitalization?”

  “Oh indeed! In fact, I wrote the first article myself, to serve as an introduction to the second, more circumstantial, piece.”

  “Ah yes; most amusing and well-balanced. What of the second article? I am rather curious about this ‘Serena’. I suppose you came to know her well?”

  Socroy pursed his lips. “Not really. Jonas Chay was principally involved with her.”

  “But you must have formed some opinion as to her integrity?”

  Socroy gave an uncomfortable shrug. “Not really. It was not suggested that I do so.”

  “She is a local woman, I believe. It’s quite possible that I know her. In strict confidence, what is her name?”

  Socroy gave a tolerant laugh. “You must ask me something else, my dear lady. We never divulge such a fact; it is against our rules.”

  Dame Hester nodded slowly. “I see.” She took up the memorandum on which she had noted Socroy’s name and looked at it thoughtfully. Her nose twitched. With her keen black parrot’s eyes, she studied Socroy. He had been watching her intently.

  “Naturally I would not want you to betray your trust,” said Dame Hester. “Still, there is something you may tell me without straying an iota from your rules, and it will quite satisfy me. Who was the scientist whom the author accompanied on the expedition which resulted in his death?”

  Socroy grimaced. He looked down at the memorandum, then back up at Dame Hester. “This particular fact is extraneous to the rules and I can speak without qualm.”

  Dame Hester gave an approving nod. “Your logic is sound! You are a valuable asset to your company! What was the gentleman’s name?”

  Socroy looked up into the branches of the hyssop tree, formed his lips into a prim little rosebud, then said, “He was Professor Andrey Ontwill. His work was sponsored by the College of Botanical Sciences at the Institute.”

  “My curiosity is satisfied,” declared Dame Hester. “I have never met Professor Ontwill and probably will never meet his wife. Already I have forgotten our conversation.” She picked up the memorandum and carefully tucked it into her handbag.

  Socroy spoke casually, “And when do you think you might be going off on a cruise? I ask so that if I were in fact invited, I might arrange for a suitable leave of absence.”

  Dame Hester nodded. “At the moment I can announce no definite departure date. There are a dozen demands upon my time, and I must simply wait for favorable circumstances.”

  “Hmm,” said Socroy. “The third of Baron Bodissey’s ‘Ten Succinct Apothegms’ is ‘sooner’ is better than ‘later’. My own favorite dictum is: ‘Do it now!’”

  “All very well,” said Dame Hester. “However, a cruise cannot simply be ordained. It must be planned and organized.”

  Dauncy Covarth leaned forward, smiling in whimsical apology at Dame Hester. “Experience, my dear lady, has taught me a sad truth: time flows in one direction only! As the days pass none of us grows younger. Sometimes we postpone glorious schemes only to discover in the end that they never have materialized! Procrastination is the thief of life!”

  Dame Hester, who liked to think of herself as ageless, was not pleased by Dauncy’s references to mortality. “So it may be! Still I reject such dismal precepts! I shall maintain my thirst for life and love and every wonderful excitement for an indefinite period — forever, if my élan will carry me so far! I reject all contrary views!”

  Ostvold Socroy inclined his head. “The concept does you credit!”

  “Thank you,” said Dame Hester. She looked up and down the length of the garden. “There
is really no one here to interest me. Myron? Dauncy? I am ready to go.”

  Dauncy sprang to his feet and assisted Dame Hester from her chair. Ostvold Socroy also rose to his feet. He bowed. “I am pleased to have made your acquaintance, and I hope that we shall soon meet again.”

  “I shall look forward to the occasion,” said Dame Hester. Taking Dauncy Covarth’s arm she set off across the lawn toward Sir Regis, who stood by the marble portal welcoming a pair of late-arriving guests. Dame Hester paused and inspected the newcomers. “Dauncy; who are those people?”

  Dauncy studied the two, and pulled at his mustache. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

  Dame Hester muttered, half to herself: “Somewhere I have seen the gentleman. He is quite distinguished, don’t you think? The woman, I should say, seems rather dashing. Her gown is not in the best taste.”

  Myron glanced sidewise at Dame Hester’s own carnival attire, but made no comment. The newcomers were apparently persons of consequence. The gentleman was white-haired, tall, erect, with strong decisive features. He seemed considerably older than his companion, whom Myron thought quite attractive. Her age was not immediately obvious; she looked, he thought, both innocent and wise, to intriguing effect. Blonde curls were caught up in a mesh at the back of her head. Her skin, smooth tawny-gold, glowed with health and happy activity outdoors in the sunlight. The white gown which had excited Dame Hester’s comment was notable mainly for its simplicity and the manner in which it molded to her elegant figure.

  Dame Hester snapped, “Myron, try to control yourself. You are absolutely pawing the ground with your hooves!”

  “Sorry.”

  Dame Hester, having induced contrition in Myron, turned back to the new guests. She mused: “I wonder who they are. The gentleman seems of some consequence; yet, he fawns over her in a most fatuous manner. It is what happens when a pretty girl chances to look twice at an elderly man! I hope, Myron, that when you become senile, you will try to behave with more dignity.”