Complete Fiction

by Hal Annas

  “Herb darling, you’re so clever! I detest the stuff. But I happened to know that scientists drink it to strengthen their minds and to keep their health up. I brought it along to prove how thoughtful I am. I also have in my handbag a length of chewing rope.”

  Cornith shook his head. “I don’t chew, but you go right ahead.”

  LUCY shook her head. “Too bad. I chew, drink, smoke, brawl, swear, lie, steal, eat with my knife, and throw things. All in the specifications. I do everything except drink Vinth. Too bad you don’t. We could have so much fun together, chewing and drinking and lying and stealing and fighting and throwing things.”

  “But I didn’t mean all those things.”

  “Of course you didn’t, darling! and I’m so sorry you put them in. But what’s done is done, and there’s no use worrying about it. Take another drink and brace up.”

  Cornith took another drink and returned the flask. He felt better now. The Martian Vinth had both a soothing and exhilarating effect. The things that had seemed so stupid a moment before now seemed reasonable.

  “All right,” he said. “If you do all of those things, you qualify. Let’s have a specimen lie to see how good you are.”

  “I hate you!”

  “Now wait! Don’t fly off the handle.”

  “But darling! I was merely giving you a sample lie.”

  “You mean, you love me?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you want to marry me?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh! I see. You’re lying.”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell the truth. Do you love me?”

  “Now, now, Mr. Cornith! There’s nothing in the specifications about telling the truth about anything at any time whatever.”

  “Oh, my Gawd!” The full realization of the awful truth shook Cornith, froze the mellow glow the Martian Vinth had instilled. “I didn’t include any good qualities at all lei the specifications!”

  “And I’m so sorry,” Lucy said tenderly. “Because I could very easily have trained myself to be goad, to be all of the things you wanted. But ‘I had to follow’ the specifications. It was the only way I could qualify. Maybe I can change—in five or ten years.” Cornith shook his head sadly. “In five or ten years it won’t matter one way or another.”

  “Then you’re going to marry me and get used to me?”

  “No.”

  “But Herb, darling! I’ve worked so hard making myself all of the silly things your specifications demanded. Nobody else will want a woman like that. Besides, I’ve been in love with you ever since you worked out the formula for canning cosmic rays.”

  “You remember that?”

  “Of course. Saw you for the first time then, in teleview. You reminded me of something I’d been dreaming.”

  “What?”

  “Tell you after we’re married.”

  “I’m not going to marry you.” You’ll have to. I can pass all the requirements. Here’s your wallet I stole out of your pocket ten minutes ago. And the law says—”

  “But you’re an ounce underweight.”

  “Are you going to let a little thing like that—?”

  LUCY halted abruptly and Cornith smiled serenely. “Sure,” he said. “‘The specifications require the female to weigh a hundred and twenty-three pounds, dripping wet, and she may not change her weight consciously by eating or drinking. Now, I’ll give you a sporting chance. You weigh a hundred and twenty-two pounds and fifteen ounces, or maybe a little less. You can weigh yourself and see. If you gain an ounce, or enough to make you weigh one twenty-three, within an hour, and without eating or drinking, or thinking about your body, I’ll marry you and not even ask your name.”

  “There are certain absorptions—”

  “Nope. That’s out. You’d have to think about your body.”

  Lucy’s smooth brow puckered. She stepped quickly to the desk and spun the globe resting there.

  “Nope. No luck there. We’re almost at sea level. You can’t get any lower than that. And if you went to higher altitude you’d weigh less.” Suddenly Lucy smiled, snatched up a pencil and began figuring on a pad, and Cornith mused reflectively: “She’s a good sport. And a beauty. By George! I hope she figures it out.” Then he frowned.

  “But it’s impossible.”

  Lucy dropped the pencil and clapped her hands. “I have it,” she exclaimed. “Time me now.”

  “I’ll have to weigh you first,” Cornith said. “Dripping wet.” Lucy’s cheeks became a shade pinker. “Won’t you take my word for it?”

  Cornith shook his head. “You’re an accomplished liar.”

  “I’ll weigh her,” the blonde offered.

  Cornith shrugged. “It’s okay with me. But when you claim you weigh a hundred and twenty-three pounds, with no ounces lacking, I’m going to do the weighing.” Lucy’s cheeks took on a rosy shade. Apparently preoccupied with her own thoughts, she made no reply. She followed the blonde girl out of the room and Cornith sat on the edge of the desk to wait. He wished now that he had not posed the problem. He could think of a thousand reasons why it would be interesting to be married to such an intensely alive creature. And he wasn’t deceived about what were termed her bad qualities. They were the result of a training pattern. They were not her basic personality and they were not deeply ingrained. In fact, she could be, and was, everything he wanted in a woman. He had made up his mind to ask her to marry him even if she failed to solve the problem, when she and the blonde returned.

  THERE were faint beads of moisture on the lobes of Lucy’s ears, and the rose-colored dress hung awry. “Didn’t have time to dry thoroughly, and had to jump into my clothes. Hurry! We’re going to be married. Right now!”

  “How much do you weigh?”

  “One twenty-two, fourteen as d three-quarter ounces. But I’ll weigh one twenty-three within twenty minutes.”

  Cornith shook his head. “Stubborn,” he told himself. “Bluffing. Lying. I ought to teach her a lesson.”

  “I’m going to put a clause is the ceremony,” he said aloud, “then if you don’t weigh exactly a hundred and twenty-three pounds, we’re not legally married.”

  “You’re so clever,” she smiled. “I was going to do that myself.”

  “Game, anyway,” Cornith mused as he followed her hurriedly out to the chute and up to the roof.

  “We’ll get married and then you can weigh me,” she said. “And I don’t weigh one twenty-three—” Her brow puckered. “Gee! I hope I’ve got it figured right.”

  “If you don’t weigh a hundred and twenty-three, it won’t be legal,” Cornith insisted, “I’m going to put in that clause.”

  A look of pain showed in her features for an instant, then it was gone and she led the way to a skytaxi.

  “There’s a hurry-up marrying place ten minutes away,” she said. “Same altitude. Near sea level. We can get married in a hurry there.”

  Cornith shrugged. “Tell the driver.”

  Thirty minutes later they were married, with the cancelling clause included. Cornith thought now that he had carried the joke too far. Lucy seemed on the verge of tears. Besides, they would not be legally and finally married until after he had weighed her. And he knew now that she meant to abide strictly by the words of the ceremony, that if the scales showed less than a hundred and twenty-three pounds she would not consider herself married. He thought of finagling the scales. But she went along with him to buy them, and insisted that they be checked and sealed to the hundredth of an ounce. Cornith knew now that she was not only a liar, but the most sincere and conscientious person he had ever known.

  HE felt cheap and mean and low as he accompanied her into the bridal suite he had engaged via pocket-communicator. He placed the scales on the floor and felt as though he had deliberately cheated and tricked an innocent child. He could see that Lucy was uncertain of herself. He could feel the tremors of fear that shook her, the doubts, the questions of right and wrong, the wondering what
all this was going to do to her happiness. He would have traded his hunting lodge on Mars just for the privilege of going back and changing.it all and telling her that she was perfect at a hundred and twenty-two pounds, fifteen ounces, and need never change an iota to please him.

  She turned slowly to face him, and two crystal tears formed in the corners of her azure eyes. “Just one kiss,” she begged. “Because I might fail, and that means the end.”

  Cornith held her close. He wished there was something he could do to comfort her, to change it all, but he knew the depth of her sincerity, and he knew that she would offer no excuse, would accept no failure even from herself. Indeed, her whole happiness, it seemed, depended upon her promise that she would fill the specifications even to that final ounce.

  She pushed him away and smiled through her tears. “I’m losing weight by crying,” she said. “Gee, golly! I hope I’ve figured it right.”

  “Dripping wet,” he said. “Leave the suds on if you wish.”

  She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be honest.” She broke away, ran to the bathroom. She stepped inside the bathroom and drew the door shut. Cornith stood there alone, and suddenly he felt as though his own weight had increased. Something was gone, locked away from him, something that had been vitally alive and warm and colorful. He walked over to the window and stood looking down at the street below. It was filled with life, but its life seemed alien, remote. His ears picked up the faint sound of the shower, and he knew that his thoughts would always hereafter be filled with the memory of how close he had come to happiness.

  He heard the bathroom door open softly, but he didn’t dare look. His heart was too heavy. Then he heard the soft, tremulous voice. “I’ve, got soap in my eyes. Come look at the scales. Don’t look at me. I’m dripping wet.”

  Cornith turned slowly, caught his breath. The vision that met his eyes was a loveliness transcending his wildest dreams. The coruscating beads of water were like flashing jewels adorning a soft pink and white body, vitally alive and yet trembling in fear. He stepped quickly to the scales and looked.

  A warm glow started at his feet and rushed upward, making him giddy as it swept over his neck and face and on into his brain. The scales showed a hundred and twenty-three pounds and four one-hundredths of an ounce. He glanced up. She had wiped the soap out of her eyes and those azure orbs were flashing a surge of joy unparalleled.

  Cornith sprang to take her in his arms, but she leaped away, raced to the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it.

  “Come on out,” he said. “You saw the scales.”

  “I’m not coming out,” she called hack, “until you figure out how I did it.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m a determined woman, Herb darling!”

  And Cornith knew that it was true. There was nothing left but to get to work and figure out how she had accomplished the seeming miracle. He drew out a chair at the writing desk, found paper and felt for his pen. He stated the problem, cancelling out eating and drinking, for he had been with her all of the time and she had not taken anything. He thought that perhaps she and the blonde had lied about her original weight. But that didn’t fit. She had been sincerely worried about whether she would succeed. Ah! There it was.

  He went to work and in three minutes he had two pages filled with figures, ciphers and symbols. He smiled grimly to himself and worked on. Ten minutes passed. He heard her call from the bathroom, but did not answer. He was engrossed with the problem. He worked on and on, eliminating variables, restating the problem, beginning anew with a different theory, working on and on. An hour passed.

  With the desk and floor littered, Cornith paused reflectively. He heard a soft movement behind him, then Lucy’s voice said, “I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve come to help you.”

  “Don’t bother me now,” Cornith said. He jotted down another row of numerals, then leaned back and sighed.

  Two warm arms went around his neck. “Was it so difficult?” she asked. “I figured it out in no time. It’s just that gravity differs at the poles and the equator. It is slightly more at the poles. About one in fifty, I think. I didn’t know for certain. But on that basis I figured there would be a change in specific gravity of about an ounce every hundred miles or so. I had to guess at it. That’s why I was so frightened. Anyway, we flew over two hundred miles north to this hurry-up place. Do you understand it, darling?”

  “You mean, about your weight and the difference in gravity between the equator and the poles?”

  “Yes, darling.”

  “I figured that out in the first three seconds after I sat down. I’ve been computing your basic personality, trying to figure out how long you would remain in the bathroom before coming out to help me. I missed it somewhere. I figured you’d be in there another two hours. I’ll have to check my figures. Go away.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t recheck them.” She placed a hand over the paper. “On this one I’m going to help. The error is right there. You didn’t allow enough for the volume and strength of my love to cancel out the volume and strength of my determination and resistance. Square resistance and raise love to the power of ten. And now if you don’t give me a big kiss, I’ll revert to the specifications and steal one.”

  In the next instant she was crushed in his strong arms. And her ears were wiggling ecstatically.

  The Longsnozzle Event

  As the greatest detective in the galaxy, Lett Zitts could easily arrest the murderer. His main interest was in analyzing the weapon used!

  LEN Zitts wiggled his big toe and gently pressed it against the velvet-covered button, and the couch on which he was lying began easing from beneath the desk to shape itself into a lounging chair. In the process, a pair of mechanical arms slipped a pair of flexible plastic moccasins on his feet and another pair of arms buttoned his shirt collar and straightened his maroon cravat. At the same time a mechanical comb and brush straightened the part in his thick chestnut hair and smoothed it neatly.

  Rising from behind the desk to a sitting position, without any effort on his part, Len Zitts blinked brown eyes and looked again at the vision of blonde loveliness which stood with full mouth agape just inside the doorway.

  “Oh!” The slender woman drew a deep breath, causing her bosom to swell alluringly. “You scared me. Popping up like a jack-in-the-box!”

  Moving his little finger an eighth of an inch, Zitts touched a button on the arm of the chair and a mechanical hand put a cigaret in his mouth and another tubelike arm moved beneath the cigaret and squirted flame against its tip. “Sit down,” Zitts invited. “Have a cigaret,” He pressed another button and an arm on the far side of the desk extended a tray of assorted cigarets toward the woman.

  A little breathless, she sat down and smoothed her diaphanous cerise skirt along her thighs. “I—I’m still a little scared,” she said tremulously.

  Zitts arched a chestnut brown eyebrow, significantly glanced at the desk and the mechanical equipment, and said, “Don’t be alarmed. Just a few little inventions of my own. Desks were originally intended as a resting place for the feet. I’ve merely modernized the idea. Slip under the desk to relax. People can’t spill drinks and ashes down your collar while you sleep.”

  The woman nodded, smiled, revealing even teeth and a wide mouth with upturned corners. “I suppose you want me to tell you why I came?”

  Zitts shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I know why you came,” he said. “You want to offer me a ton of gold to investigate your husband’s death. Sorry! Afraid we can’t do business.”

  “B-but—but—how did you know?” The woman leaned forward and lifted a slender hand and looked at it as though to test her eyes.

  ZITTS eyed the round arm with interest. “Elementary,” he said. “People are always wanting me to investigate something, and they always try to palm off that trash called gold. They never offer anything worthwhile, such as a dozen genuine bacteria for my collection, or a scuttle of coal—that almost priceless
black stuff from which so many things are made. Ever seen any coal?”

  The woman shook her head, swinging the shoulder-length blonde hair from side to side, and her deep blue eyes opened wide in wonder. “Heard of it. Glossy ebon substance of which ornaments are made. A princess on Mars is said to own a chunk of it as big as my thumb, set in a pendant. It was captured in the Martian war with Saturn.”

  “It’s probably a phony,” Zitts pointed out. “The Martians are too smart to let a woman wear that precious stuff. A piece that big could be made into the nucleus of a webbing which would trap enough sunlight and moisture from the orbit of Mars to turn every sandy plain on that planet into fertile land.” The subject seemed beyond the grasp of the woman. “But you haven’t told me,” she said softly, “how you knew it was my husband’s death, not something else.” Zitts turned slightly in his chair. The turning itself seemed to serve as a signal. The door on his right opened noiselessly and a dusky Venusian female glided into the room, came and sat down on a seat which was remarkably like a man’s knee.

  “My confidential secretary,” Zitts said by way of introduction. “Miss Xuren Claustinkelwickwellopiandusselkuck. I streamline that a bit and call her Zoo. Zoo, this is Mrs. Elmer-Brown Jake-Smith.”

  “What?” The blonde woman’s eyes snapped from Zoo to Zitts. “How did you know my name? And how did you know I had two husbands?”

  “One husband,” Zitts corrected. “Mr. Jake Smith was done to death in some mysterious manner yesterday morning at daylight just as he was going to bed for the day. But you’re still entitled to both names, having been legally wed to both men. The beyondlaws, I believe, are holding Elmer Brown.”

  “Beyondlaws? Isn’t that an outmoded term? Its meaning has slipped me.”

  “Outmoded, yes, but still appropriate. Coined to replace the term congressmen. They once made the laws, I believe, but they were beyond the laws themselves. Then the people got stirred up and demoted them to ratcatchers and put responsible men in their places. They worked up from ratcatchers to jobs then known as policemen. The term ratcatchers stuck, but it seems more dignified do call them beyondlaws. These people are holding your other husband, leaving you husbandless. But that shouldn’t be so bad. With your shape you ought to be able to snare a hundred husbands.”