by Jack Vance
“I subscribe to none of the metaphysical religions, which includes —or excludes—them all, I suppose. Does that answer your question?”
“Not entirely. What I’m after is this: Can you admit the possibility of events and experiences which are—well, out of the ordinary?”
“Yes,” said Kornberg warily, “to a certain extent.”
“And a man who had participated in one of these extraordinary events, and described it might well be considered insane?”
“Yes, certainly,” said Kornberg. “However, if you notified me that you had recently seen a blue giraffe on roller skates playing a harmonica, I wouldn’t believe you.”
“No, because it would be an absurdity, a burlesque of normality.” Burke hesitated. “I won’t go any farther—since I want to get out, of here as soon as possible. But these actions you’ve observed—the looking into the mirror, feeling the air—all stem from circumstances which I regard as —well, remarkable.”
Kornberg laughed. “You’re certainly cautious.”
“Naturally. I’m talking to a psychiatrist at the lunatic asylum, who already considers me aberrated.”
Kornberg abruptly rose to his feet. “I’ve got to be on my rounds.”
Burke took care not to examine himself in the mirror, not to feel the air over his shoulders. A week later he was released from the asylum. All charges against him had been dropped; he was a free man.
Dr. Kornberg shook hands with him on his departure. “I’m curious as to the ‘remarkable circumstances’ you mentioned.”
“I am, too,” said Burke. “I’m going out now to investigate them. Perhaps you’ll have me back before long.”
Kornberg shook his head in wry admonition; Margaret took Burke’s arm, led him to her car. Here she hugged him, kissed him enthusiastically. “You’re out! You’re free, you’re sane, you’re—”
“Unemployed,” said Burke. “Now I want to see Tarbert. Instantly.”
Margaret’s face, a water-clear mirror for her every emotion, displayed disapproval. She said with all-too-transparent airiness, “Oh, let’s not bother with Dr. Tarbert. He’s busy with his own affairs.”
“I’ve got to see Ralph Tarbert.”
Margaret stammered uncertainly, “Don’t you think—well, let’s go somewhere else.”
Burke smiled sardonically. Evidently Margaret had been instructed—or had decided for herself—that it would be best to steer Burke away from Tarbert.
“Margaret,” he said softly, “you’re fooling with something you don’t understand. I’ve got to see Tarbert.”
Margaret cried in distress, “I don’t want you to be involved again … Suppose you—well, get all excited again!”
“I’ll get much more excited if I don’t see Tarbert. Please, Margaret. Today I’ll explain everything.”
“It’s not only you,” said Margaret miserably. “It’s Dr. Tarbert. He’s changed! He was so—well, civilized, and now he’s savage and bitter. Actually, Paul, I’m afraid of him. He seems evil!”
“I’m sure he isn’t. I’ve got to see him.”
“You promised to tell me how you got in that terrible situation.”
“So I did.” Burke heaved a deep sigh. “I’d like to keep you uninvolved as long as possible. But I promised and— let’s go see Tarbert. Where is he?”
“At Electrodyne Engineering. He moved in when you left. He’s become very queer.”
“I don’t wonder,” said Burke. “If all this is real—if I’m not a real maniac—”
“Don’t you know?”
“No,” said Burke. “I’ll find out from Tarbert. I hope I’m crazy. I’d be relieved and happy if I could believe I were.”
Margaret’s face showed her shock and bewilderment; nevertheless, she said no more.
They drove slowly out Leghorn Road, Margaret’s reluctance to proceed becoming ever more marked. And Burke himself began to find reasons why visiting Tarbert was a poor idea. His brain flashed with crackles of pale light, sounded to a sibilant hiss, and there was a sensation almost like a thud in his auditory centers. A thud, a growl. “Gher —gher—gher—” the sound he had heard before, on Ixax. Or was Ixax an illusion, and he himself insane? Burke fretfully shook his head. The whole affair was insane. Impelled by some wild delusion he’d tied poor Tarbert to his homemade torture machine and no doubt nearly killed him. Tarbert might be difficult, even unpleasant… . He definitely had no wish to see Tarbert. The closer they approached Electrodyne Engineering, the stronger grew his reluctance, and the louder grew the grating sound in his mind: “Gher —gher—gher.” The glimmer of light in his brain increased in intensity, swam before his eyes like visions. He saw blooming dark colors, an object repellently like a drowned woman floating deep in a black-green ocean, her long pale hair floating free… . He saw waxy sea-weed crusted with colored stars, like blossoms on a hollyhock. He saw a vat of churning spaghetti the strands drawn from quaking blue-green glass… . Burke drew in his breath with a hiss, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Margaret looked hopefully toward him with each of his uneasy movements —but Burke clamped his mouth obstinately. When he saw Tarbert he’d know the truth. Tarbert would know.
Margaret drove into the parking lot. There was Tarbert’s car. On leaden feet Burke walked toward the door to the office. The growl inside his brain was absolutely menacing. Within the building lurked an evil presence; it was as if Burke were a prehistoric man in front of a dark cave which smelled of blood and carrion… .
He tried the door to the office; it was locked. He knocked.
Somewhere within a presence stirred. Flee while there’s still time! Still time! Still time! Don’t wait! Don’t wait! Too late! Don’t wait! Still time!
Tarbert appeared in the doorway—a bloated monstrous Tarbert, a vile malevolent Tarbert. “Hello, Paul,” he sneered. “They finally let you out?”
“Yes,” said Burke in a voice he could not keep from trembling. “Ralph, am I crazy—or not? Can you see it?”
Tarbert looked at him with the cunning of a hungry shark. He meant to trap Burke, to involve him in misfortune and tragedy.
“It’s there.”
Burke’s breath rasped out through his constricted throat. Margaret’s frightened voice came from behind him. “What’s there? Tell me, Paul! What is it?”
“The nopal,” croaked Burke. “It’s sitting on my head, sucking at my mind.”
“No!” said Margaret, taking his arm. “Look at me, Paul! Don’t believe Tarbert! He’s lying! There’s nothing there! I can see you, and there’s nothing there!”
“I’m not crazy,” said Burke. “You can’t see it because you’ve got one too. It won’t let you see. It tries to make us believe Ralph is vicious—just as it made you think I was.”
Margaret’s face sagged in shock and incredulity. “I didn’t want to involve you,” said Burke, “but since you are, you might as well know what’s going on.”
“What is a ‘nopal’?” whispered Margaret.
“Yes,” said Tarbert hollowly, “what is a nopal? I don’t know either.”
Burke took Margaret’s arm, led her into the office. “Sit down.” Margaret gingerly took a seat; Tarbert leaned against the counter. “Whatever the nopal is,” said Burke, “it’s not nice. Evil spirit, familiar, mind-parasite—these are just names; they don’t describe the things. But they’re able to influence us. Right now, Margaret, they’re telling us to hate Tarbert. I never realized how powerful the things are until I turned down Leghorn Road.”
Margaret raised her hands to her head. “It’s on me now?”
Tarbert nodded. “I can see it. It’s not pretty.”
Margaret slumped into a chair, hands twisting in her lap. She turned Burke an uncertain white-faced grin. “You’re joking, aren’t you? Just trying to scare me?”
Burke patted her hand. “I wish I were. But I’m not.”
Margaret said, still unbelieving, “But why haven’t other people seen the
m? Why aren’t they known to scientists?”
“I’ll tell you the whole story.”
“Yes,” said Tarbert dryly. “I’ll be interested to hear it. I know absolutely nothing except that everyone carries a monster riding on their heads.”
“Sorry, Ralph,” said Burke, grinning. “I imagine it came as something of a shock?”
Tarbert nodded grimly. “You’ll never know.”
“Well, here’s the story …”
X
EVENING HAD COME; the three sat in the workshop, in a pool of light around the denopalizer. On the workbench an electric percolator bubbled.
“It’s a cruel situation,” said Burke. “Not only for us, but for everyone. I had to have help, Ralph. I had to drag you into it.”
Tarbert sat staring at the denopalizer. There was silence in the room, except for the chanted growling sound in Burke’s mind. Tarbert still seemed the embodiment of all danger and evil, but Burke, closing his mind to the idea, insisted that Tarbert was his friend and ally—even though he could not look into Tarbert’s malevolent countenance.
Burke stirred himself. “You still have a choice. After all, this is not your responsibility—not mine either for that matter. But now that you know what’s going on, you can still pull out if you like, and no hard feelings.”
Tarbert grinned sadly. “I’m not complaining. Sooner or later I’d have been involved. I’d just as soon be in at the beginning.”
“So would I,” said Burke with relief. “How long was I in the asylum?”
“About two weeks.”
“In about another two weeks the nopal will drop down on you. You’ll go to sleep, you’ll wake up thinking it was all a terrible nightmare. That’s how I felt. You’ll have no trouble forgetting it, because the nopal will help you forget.”
Tarbert’s eyes focused on a spot above Burke’s shoulder. He shivered. “With that thing looking at me?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand how you can bear hosting it, knowing what it is.”
Burke grimaced. “It’s doing its best to smother the revulsion… . They choke away ideas they don’t like—achieve a certain degree of control. They can encourage the hostilities latent in everybody; it’s dangerous to be Tauptu in a world of Chitumih.”
Margaret stirred uneasily. “I don’t understand what you hope to do.”
“It’s not what we hope to do—it’s what we must do. The Xaxans have given us an ultimatum: Clean up our planet, or they’ll clean it for us. They have the capabilities; they’re ruthless enough.”
“I can sympathize with their determination,” Tarbert said thoughtfully. “They’ve apparently suffered a great deal.”
“But they’re inflicting, or trying to inflict, this same suffering on us!” protested Burke. “I find them callous, harsh, domineering—”
“You saw them under the worst possible circumstances,” Tarbert pointed out. “They seemed to treat you as politely as possible. My impulse is to defer judgment on the Xaxans, until we know them better.”
“I know them well enough now,” growled Burke. “Don’t forget, I was witness to—” He stopped short. The nopal presumably were urging him to attack the Xaxans. Tarbert’s defense was probably the rational attitude… . Still, on the other hand … Tarbert interrupted his speculations. “There’s a great deal I don’t understand,” he said. “For instance, they call Earth, Nopalgarth; they want us to purge ourselves of nopal, ostensibly to cure a pest-hole condition. But the universe is very large and there must be many other worlds plagued by nopal. They can’t expect to tidy up the entire universe! You can’t eradicate mosquitoes by spraying one pool in a swamp.”
“According to what I was told,” said Burke, “this is precisely their aim. They’re conducting an anti-nopal crusade, and we’re the first converts. So far as Earth is concerned, it’s up to us. We’ve got a tremendous responsibility —and I don’t see how we’re going to discharge it.”
“But surely,” Margaret said uncertainly, “if these things exist, and you told people—”
“Who’d believe us? We can’t just start denopalizing each casual passer-by; we’d last about four hours. If we went to some remote island and set up a colony of Tauptu, and if by some chance we escaped persecution and extermination, we’d eventually touch off a Xaxan-type war.”
“Then—” Margaret started, but Burke interrupted her: “If we do nothing, the Xaxans will destroy us. They’ve destroyed millions of Chitumih on Ixax; why should they hesitate to do the same here?”
“We must compose ourselves to quiet reflection,” said Tarbert. “I can think of a dozen questions I’d like to explore. Is there any way to expunge these damnable nopal other than the torture machine? Is it possible that the nopal are merely a part of the human organism, such as the so-called soul, or some kind of refracted image of the mental processes? Or possibly of the unconscious mind?”
“If they’re part of ourselves,” Burke pondered, “Why should they seem so hideous?”
Tarbert laughed. “If I dangled your intestines in front of your face, you’d find them revolting enough.”
“True,” said Burke. He considered a moment. “In response to your first question: The Xaxans know of no way to purge the Chitumih except by the denopalizer. This of course does not mean that no other way exists. As for nopal being part of the human, organism, they certainly don’t act like it. They float around hungrily, they cross to other planets, they act like independent creatures. If some kind of man-nopal symbiosis is involved, it seems all to the benefit of the nopal. So far as I know they confer no advantages upon their host—although I know of no active harm they do either.”
“Then why are the Xaxans so all-fired anxious to be rid of them, to cleanse the universe of the nopal?”
“Because they’re disgusting, I suppose,” said Burke. “That seems reason enough for them.”
Margaret shivered. “There must be something wrong with me. … If these things exist, and you both say they do, I should feel more of this disgust—but I don’t. I’m just numb.”
“Your nopal clamps down on the proper nerve at the proper time,” said Burke.
“This fact,” said Tarbert, “would imply that the nopal possesses a considerable intelligence—and sets up a new collection of questions: Does the nopal understand words, or merely feel raw emotion? Apparently it lives upon a single host until the host dies, in which case it has opportunity to learn the language. But, on the other hand, it may not possess that large a memory-bank. Possibly no memory at all.”
Margaret said, “If it stays on a person until a person dies, then it’s to the nopal’s advantage to keep that person alive.”
“So it would seem.”
“This might account for premonitions of danger, hunches, and things like that.”
“Very possibly,” said Tarbert. “It’s one of the ideas we certainly would want to explore.”
There was peremptory knocking at the outside door. Tarbert rose to his feet; Margaret twisted around startled, hand to her mouth.
Tarbert slowly started for the door; Burke stopped him. “Let me go. I’m Chitumih, like everyone else.”
He started across the dim workshop, toward the office and the outer door. Halfway he stopped. He looked back. Margaret and Tarbert, in the little island of yellow light, stood immobile, waiting and watching.
He slowly turned, fighting against a fearful reluctance he had come to recognize.
The rap-rap-rap sounded again, a measured ominous sound.
Burke forced his laggard legs into motion, pushed himself through the dark office, past the long counter, to the door.
He looked out through the glass panel, strained to see into the night. The dim half-moon hung behind a tall cypress tree; in a shadow stood a massive dark shape.
Burke slowly opened the door. The figure stalked forward; the flash of headlights from cars passing along Leghorn Road revealed rough gray skin, a jutting ridge of nose like a bent bow, opaque eyes: Pttdu Apiptix
, the Xaxan. Behind, in the darkness, more sensed than seen, loomed four other Xaxan shapes. All wore black beetle-shell cloaks and metal helmets with spikes along the ridge.
Apiptix gazed stonily down at Burke. All the hate and fear Burke had originally felt for the Tauptu surged back. He resisted; he thought of his nopal peering at the Xaxans across his shoulders, but to no avail.
Pttdu Apiptix came slowly forward —but now out on the highway a hundred feet away an automobile braked to a halt. A red light began blinking, a search-light swung toward the Electrodyne plant.
Burke jumped forward. “Behind the trees, quick! The Highway Patrol!”
The Xaxans moved into the shadow, to stand like a row of barbaric statues. From the patrol car came the sound of radio voices, then the door opened and two figures alighted.
Heart in throat Burke stepped forward. A flashlight played on his face. “What’s the trouble?” he asked.
There was no reply for a moment; nothing but a suspicious scrutiny. Then the trooper’s cool voice: “Nothing’s the trouble; we’re just making a check. Who’s inside the plant?”
“Friends.”
“You have authority to use this place?”
“Certainly.”
“Mind if we take a look around?” They advanced, not caring whether Burke minded or not. Their flash-lights turned here and there, never straying too far from Burke.
“What are you looking for?” Burke asked.
“Nothing in particular. Something’s wrong about this place, something fishy going on. There’s been trouble here before.”
With heart in mouth Burke watched their progress. Twice he started to call a warning; twice his voice caught in his throat. What could he tell them? They were oppressed by the nearness of the Xaxans; there was nervousness in the flick of their lights. Burke could see the shapes under the trees; the lights strayed toward them… . Margaret and Tarbert appeared in the doorway. “Who is it?” called Tarbert.
