NONA rocked back and forth, her hands clasped about her knees. “He looked at me, displayed about thirty-one teeth, and said nothing; I think he was scared. I scowled at him and said, ‘Scram, you worm.’ But I don’t think he understood, for he just stood there, the grin fading into a sickly-looking smirk. But he got the idea quickly enough when I opened the door and kicked him out. Quite hard. He went out so fast that be almost stepped on the heels of the Eugenics man. You see I don’t know many men. I sometimes wish I did. I think I’d like men a lot. Women are so dreadfully stupid. But maybe you don’t think so.” She smiled a carbolic smile, and watched his face anxiously.
Mark gazed thoughtfully into the flames. His gloom almost returned, but he shook it off. “No, I can’t say I do,” he admitted, noncommittally.
Nona smiled irritably. “I didn’t think so. But things were different then. People were free! But those others don’t matter now. Or...” A sudden thought seemed to paralyze her. It was a minute before she spoke. “Tell me. Was there anyone... Did you have a mate?” The last words came all in a breathless rush.
Mark looked sharply at her, and then grinned. “No,” he assured. “Almost, but not quite.”
Nona was silent for a long time. Then suddenly she said: “Did you love her? I know about love. The old books explained it, but I really never understood until...” She stopped abruptly, evidently influenced again by something she had read.
Mark hesitated. “I’m not so sure I know the answer to that one. I thought I loved her, and I certainly was miserable when she married someone else at the last minute. But I’m not miserable any more, so it’s just possible that my emotion wasn’t really love. Funny, though. It was hell for a while... Don’t ask me. I was never an expert at love, I guess. It only happened once and I’m not so sure just what did happen.”
The combined wails of two or three wildcats rent the evening stillness from a point not far away. Mark looked around at the deep shadows that ringed the little clearing, but saw no sign of the cats. Later, perhaps, there would be the glowing reflections from their eyes, but he was sure that none would venture within the lighted area.
“Maybe you’d better go to sleep now,” he suggested. “I’ll keep the fire going.”
“I’m not sleepy. I’d rather talk.” She drew closer to Mark and, at the dictates of an uncomfortably acute conscience, he retreated.
“It seems to be a peculiarity of your sex,” he commented. “But I still think you should sleep. You’ve had a hard day and tomorrow might be harder.” Tonight, the Lord knew, apparently was going to be trying enough. His arms ached now with the will to hold them at his side.
“But so have you,” she insisted. “You sleep and I’ll watch. I read somewhere that it is the woman’s duty to serve the man.” Her smile was utterly childlike and completely irresistible.
“Huh,” Mark said, very weakly. “Don’t believe all you read, young lady. There have been some crackpot philosophers with peculiar ideas concerning human relations. One — possibly the one you read — believed that women should serve men like slaves. He spoke of his ideal man as a ‘superior’ man, who, it seems, was one who demanded much but gave little. Things don’t work out that way, fortunately. His ‘superior’ man would have to be a cold, supercilious sort of a critter, and people just don’t take to that kind of person, even women, who are known to be peculiar at times. Instead of serving, a woman would be more apt to hate him. People don’t do things because they should do them; they do things because they want to. As soon as an act is considered a duty, people want to do the opposite.” It didn’t make much sense, Mark thought wildly, but when you talk you can’t kiss...
Nona thought it over for a minute. “Yes, I understand. But you see, I want to watch the fire for you.”
Mark looked disgusted, and felt entirely helpless. Nona looked into his eyes with an expression that told him exactly where he stood, then seeing that he was scowling she appeared very contrite.
“Is that wrong?” she asked. “There is so much I must learn. Please tell me and don’t be angry.”
Mark promised to wake her when he got sleepy and let her take a turn at playing watchman. In spite of her scanty attire she insisted that she would not get cold, but Mark made her take his jacket for covering. The fire would keep him warm, although the night seemed to be mild enough to warrant no protection from the elements. He replenished the blaze and looked about for some visible evidence of the cats, whose wailing was making a constant cacophony in the almost motionless air. This time he saw a pair of glowing points, apparently suspended in mid-air, above the thick branch of a nearby tree. He snatched a burning brand from the fire and tossed it at the eyes. They disappeared amid a shower of sparks, to the accompaniment of a hideous spitting and hissing.
“And that takes care of you, my fuzzy friend,” he remarked, retrieving the brand and tossing it back into the fire.
Chapter 8: Blueblood
LATER, while occupying himself by hacking absently at a piece of wood with his clasp-knife, Mark was jolted by a startling discovery. An unexpected slip of the knife caused it to slice a thin sliver of flesh from his knuckle. The blade was so keen that he didn’t immediately notice the slight wound, and continued whittling until startled by the sight of blood. Mark was not one to be awed, dismayed or even annoyed at the loss of a few drops of blood. But this time he was definitely alarmed when he noted the injury. For the blood was not red. It was blue!
Wiping a few drops from the cut with a finger he moved closer to the fire to be sure his eyes were not playing him false. The blood was blue, as deep blue as it had been red! There could be no doubt; no trick of reflected light was causing this phenomenon. Hastily he examined the wound from which it had oozed. He couldn’t find it.
In that short time the wound had healed, and new skin covered the place where the old had been sliced off! He found the place, finally, but except for the fact that the new skin was a shade whiter than that surrounding it, there was no sign of the cut. Mark hadn’t minded Omega’s tricks; as a spectator he had even been olympically amused. But if his body was going to go gay on him — Mark suddenly thought of the scratches he had suffered on the backs of both hands while helping Nona through the brambles. There was no sign of these either. He remembered thinking at the time that the pain incurred was of surprisingly short duration, whereas the scratches should have smarted for quite a while. He hadn’t looked then because he hadn’t wanted Nona to notice.
This discovery and the fact that for the first time he had time to think, started a train of thought that was to leave him even more puzzled. He remembered that after the initial surprise at his surroundings, his first physical sensation had been thirst. Not hunger; just thirst.
There had been no feeling of cold in spite of the fact that he had been nude. He had only donned clothes for reasons of modesty and to have a place to carry weapons. Further he remembered that when he washed in the water from the jug there had been no shock from the cold contact although he had doused himself thoroughly. He had felt the change in temperature, but not nearly so acutely as he used to before the long sleep.
Of course he had been so filled with wonder at the antics of Omega at the time, that he might not have been so sensible to sensation as normal. As an experiment he rolled up a sleeve and placed the end of a glowering brand within a few inches of his arm. There was plenty of heat, and the hair curled up, singed, but he felt no pain!
Gritting his teeth he placed it in direct contact with the skin, then drew it quickly away. A grunt escaped his lips when the flesh seared for an agonizing instant.
But the pain left almost as quickly as it came, and the burned spot healed over without forming a blister. He brushed the charred portion and the dried skin flaked off to reveal an arm unmarked, save for the little charred circle of singed hair.
For a moment or two he just stared at his arm.
His thoughts went back over the events of the day.
He remembered the
spear-prods given him by the cannibals marching him to their village. But the effected portion was so situated that he decided — with a glance toward Nona, who might wake up at any minute — to forego the inspection of that part.
Then, of course, there was hunger. He hadn’t experienced any at all, though he had always been a heavy eater. He had eaten, all right, but only after the odors of Omega’s dinner had made his mouth water. And that was more from habit than need, for he had only eaten a few mouthfuls.
Contemplation of it all made his head swim. The changed blood, with its bluish color, was no doubt the result of the anaesthetic given him before the operation. The anaesthetic had been injected, he recalled.
Of course, it might just be that his aristocratic ancestry was manifesting itself, he mused, with a grin at the dancing flames. He’d have to ask Omega about it. The peculiar blood was probably the cause of the other physical changes he had noted; the quick healing, the dulling of pain, the lessened — or perhaps nonexistent — need for food, and...
Jumpin’ Jehosaphat! He suddenly realized that he should be dead tired by now. But he wasn’t. He had no desire to sleep, at all. In spite of miles of walking, a fight, and enough excitement to last him a year, be felt no vestige of weariness...
HE HAD just begun to feel elated at his new powers when this thought struck him. But he didn’t feel so chipper when he contemplated the long nights ahead of him, during which he very much feared he would get fed up with his own company. On the other hand he had eaten, when he evidently didn’t require food, so possibly he could sleep if he so desired. He almost awakened Nona in his anxiety to try out this theory, but the sight of her made him decide not to.
He bent over her and replaced the jacket which had shifted and partly uncovered her beautifully formed body. A leaping flame revealed a smile that gave her features a radiance that could only be surpassed, Mark was thinking, by the splendor of her luminous eyes.
Perversely he recalled thinking the same thing of another beautiful lady. But that one had been grossly sophisticated, shamefully mercenary. He had found that out almost too late; but he knew now that Nona was touchingly and oddly naive.
Resuming his vigil at the fire, Mark’s thoughts returned to the puzzle of his changed condition.
There must be some other answer to this queer lack of hunger. Maybe it was merely temporary loss of appetite, though one would think that he would lack energy if that were the case.
Any machine, human or otherwise, must be supplied with fuel or it ceases to function. Output can’t be greater than input. And the energy he had put forth during the day far surpassed the amount of food energy he had consumed. But then, there were machines, equipped to store energy in advance for future consumption. The human machine had that ability.
But that couldn’t apply to this instance. For two days prior to the appendix business he hadn’t been able to eat because of the pains in his abdomen. That would be enough to weaken a man without having to undergo an operation.
And yet he had gone under the knife, lived without further nourishment for six thousand years, and then gone out and put in a strenuous day. And still felt no fatigue. Curiouser and curiouser.
He hoped Omega would know the answer.
Chapter 9: When is a Bear...
WITH the morning’s slow advance the weird wailings gradually lessened until they finally ceased. This particular breed of cats appeared to be entirely nocturnal in habit. A curious rabbit hopped into the clearing and inspected the girl’s sleeping figure, ignoring Mark. This was an error on the bunny’s part, for Mark declined to ignore him. A well-aimed stone put an end to the rodent’s curiosity. Nona stirred and jumped to her feet as she realized that Mark had allowed her to sleep the night through.
“You broke your promise,” she said, looking as pretty as two pictures.
“No, I didn’t,” he grinned. “I promised to wake you when I got sleepy. And I didn’t get sleepy.”
“But you must have. I was exhausted.”
“But you forget I am a very unusual person,” he reminded her. “Suppose you just rest over here while I get breakfast.”
“But that isn’t right,” she protested. “I read that the custom in your day was for the woman to prepare the food for the men.”
Mark sighed. “Yes, but do you know how to skin a rabbit and cook it over an open fire?”
“No,” she admitted, ashamed.
“Well I do. So you just sit there and marvel. By the way, who does do the cooking in your city?”
“It’s not my city!” she flared, then calmed down instantly. “The cooking is done by groups of men whose only duty is to prepare meals for the other workers. The city is divided into sectors, and in the center of each sector is a community building. At meal times long tables are set up.
“Men eat first, leave the building, and fifteen minutes later the women eat. The children are fed in a separate hall in the same building. These children’s halls are attended by groups of women, although the food is prepared by the regular cooks. This community form of eating was adopted because of economy and also because it insured equality. It saves time, too.”
“Also very clever on the part of the city fathers. The family dinner table offers too much opportunity for private discussion of affairs of state. And the men do all the cooking, eh?”
“Oh yes. I have heard that the women once did that work, but it was found that men could work together more efficiently and with less disagreement.”
Mark chuckled. “Restaurant and hotel owners knew that thousands of years ago.”
Nona was absorbedly watching the process of preparing the rabbit. Occasionally she would ask a question, but for the most part she was silent, missing not a movement of Mark’s capable hands. And she could not have had a better tutor when it came to cooking game, for he had spent a good portion of his former existence on hunting and camping trips.
The rabbit was finally done to a turn and Mark dismembered it.
“Next time I’ll be able to cook the meal,” Nona said, between mouthfuls.
AN HOUR later found them resuming their journey southward. Neither had the slightest idea where they were going, for no plans for the future had been mentioned. Mark had given the matter some thought, but held his own council until he could get certain things straightened out in his mind.
For the present, he was aware, there was nothing he would rather be doing than strolling along with his delightful companion. And as long as she seemed to agree, the future was a nebulous thing, stretching out endlessly before them, not requiring any immediate thought.
But Mark’s thoughts were not concerned with the future. He was still worried about Nona’s calmly wanton behavior of the night before. There was the business of the bed of leaves; the fact that her people made no ceremony of marriage; the way she referred to the duties of a woman toward a man, as gleaned from the old books; and finally her general attitude that every thing was quite settled between them and to be taken for granted.
That was what puzzled him most, for he didn’t remember having said anything that might have been construed as leading toward matrimony, although, he privately admitted, the thought had never been far from his mind since their first meeting.
But the very fact that she seemed to have the situation all cut and dried in her mind made him wary. And then, too, he might be assuming too much. You could get into trouble that way, he remembered.
“I would offer a penny for your thoughts if I knew what a penny was,” Nona remarked.
“I wouldn’t swindle you. But you can tell me something, just what were you thinking, immediately after Omega introduced us?”
Ecstasy illumined her face. “I was so bewildered that at first I couldn’t understand. You see my studies had given me the impression that in your time it was customary for the man to — I can’t think of the right words. Oh yes — to ‘pay court’ to the woman of his choice.
“I’m not sure just what that means, but it doesn’
t matter. That was probably from a book written before your era. So I didn’t realize for a moment, that Omega was really introducing us. Of course, he told me afterward that he had watched over me since I was born, and that he knew more than the Eugenic Council. But I didn’t know that when he introduced us. All I could think of was that you wanted me. Your grin told me that. I was so happy I couldn’t think.”
Mark leaned over, cupped her chin in his hand, and kissed her. Lingeringly. “A little formality I overlooked,” he explained.
The whole thing was now clear. To Nona an introduction amounted to a giving in marriage. Here all the time he had been married to her — and without knowing it!
And what was even more astounding, she seemed to have been exceedingly happy about the situation from the first. All the while he had been afraid that he might be misinterpreting her actions. He suddenly frowned. The disturbing thought had to do with the conventional processes observed during his earlier days on the earth. Marriage was a matter to be performed by means of certain rituals.
Of course, this introduction affair was strictly regular in this day and age and evidently Nona considered it to be all that was required.
He stopped to analyze the process. In his day marriage was performed when a couple announced to the world, by answering questions put to them by a third person, that each took the other for a mate.
And in effect, this newer system amounted to practically the same thing. The witness is the person who does the introducing. And if the couple are satisfied with each other they announce it to the witness, and the world in general, by not demanding a substitute spouse. All very simple.
Well if Nona was satisfied, he was.
And now, it appeared, there were definite things which must be done. He was no longer a shiftless bachelor, but a settled married man. He would have to act like one and find a place to settle.
The Best of Argosy #2 - Minions on the Moon Page 6
