The Best of C.L. Moore & Henry Kuttner

by Henry Kuttner

  “I’m convinced that that particular study might be dangerous for you. I don’t want you to be hurt. I want you to have every possible opportunity, especially the ones I never had.”

  “No,” Absalom said, a curious note of maturity in his high voice. “It wasn’t lack of opportunity. It was incapability.”

  “What?” Locke said.

  “You could never allow yourself to be convinced I could safely study entropic logic. I’ve learned that. I’ve talked to other quizkids.”

  “Of private matters?”

  “They’re of my race,” Absalom said. “You’re not. And please don’t talk about filial love. You broke that law yourself long ago.”

  “Keep talking,” Locke said quietly, his mouth tight. “But make sure it’s logical.”

  “It is. I didn’t think I’d ever have to do this for a long time, but I’ve got to now. You’re holding me back from what I’ve got to do.”

  “The step mutation. Cumulative. I see.”

  The fire was too hot. Locke took a step forward from the hearth. Absalom made a slight movement of withdrawal. Locke looked at him intently.

  “It is a mutation,” the boy said. “Not the complete one, but Grandfather was one of the first steps. You, too—further along than he did. And I’m further than you. My children will be closer toward the ultimate mutation. The only psychonamic experts worth anything are the child geniuses of your generation.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re afraid of me,” Absalom said. “You’re afraid of me and jealous of me.”

  Locke started to laugh. “What about logic now?”

  The boy swallowed. “It is logic. Once you were convinced that the mutation was cumulative, you couldn’t bear to think I’d displace you. It’s a basic psychological warp in you. You had the same thing with Grandfather, in a different way. That’s why you turned to psychonamics, where you were a small god, dragging out the secret minds of your students, molding their brains as Adam was molded. You’re afraid that I’ll outstrip you. And I will.”

  “That’s why I let you study anything you wanted, I suppose?” Locke asked. “With this exception?”

  “Yes, it is. A lot of child geniuses work so hard they burn themselves out and lose their mental capacities entirely. You wouldn’t have talked so much about the danger if—under these circumstances—it hadn’t been the one thing paramount in your mind. Sure you gave me my head. And, subconsciously, you were hoping I would burn myself out, so I wouldn’t be a possible rival any more.”

  “I see.”

  “You let me study math, plane geometry, calculus, non-Euclidean, but you kept pace with me. If you didn’t know the subject already, you were careful to bone up on it, to assure yourself that it was something you could grasp. You made sure I couldn’t outstrip you, that I wouldn’t get any knowledge you couldn’t get. And that’s why you wouldn’t let me take entropic logic.”

  There was no expression on Locke’s face.

  “Why?” he asked coldly.

  “You couldn’t understand it yourself,” Absalom said. “You tried it, and it was beyond you. You’re not flexible. Your logic isn’t flexible. It’s founded on the fact that a second-hand registers sixty seconds. You’ve lost the sense of wonder. You’ve translated too much from abstract to concrete. I can understand entropic logic. I can understand it!”

  “You’ve picked this up in the last week,” Locke said.

  “No. You mean the rapports. A long time ago I learned to keep part of my mind blanked off under your probing.”

  “That’s impossible!” Locke said, startled.

  “It is for you. I’m a further step in the mutation. I have a lot of talents you don’t know anything about. And I know this—I’m not far enough advanced for my age. The boys in the crèches are ahead of me. Their parents followed natural laws—it’s the role of any parent to protect its young. Only the immature parents are out of step—like you.”

  Locke was still quite impassive.

  “I’m immature? And I hate you? I’m jealous of you? You’ve quite settled on that?”

  “Is it true or not?”

  Locke didn’t answer. “You’re still inferior to me mentally,” he said, “and you will be for some years to come. Let’s say, if you want it that way, that your superiority lies in your—flexibility—and your homo superior talents. Whatever they are. Against that, balance the fact that I’m a physically mature adult and you weigh less than half of what I do. I’m legally your guardian. And I’m stronger than you are.”

  Absalom swallowed again, but said nothing. Locke rose a little higher, looking down at the boy. His hand went to his middle, but found only a lightweight zipper.

  He walked to the door. He turned.

  “I’m going to prove to you that you’re my inferior,” he said coldly and quietly. “You’re going to admit it to me.”

  Absalom said nothing.

  Locke went upstairs. He touched the switch on his bureau, reached into the drawer, and withdrew an elastic lucite belt. He drew its cool, smooth length through his fingers once. Then he turned to the dropper again.

  His lips were white and bloodless by now.

  At the door of the living room he stopped, holding the belt. Absalom had not moved, but Abigail Schuler was standing beside the boy.

  “Get out, Sister Schuler,” Locke said.

  “You’re not going to whip him,” Abigail said, her head held high, her lips purse-string tight.

  “Get out.”

  “I won’t. I heard every word. And it’s true, all of it.”

  “Get out, I tell you!” Locke screamed.

  He ran forward, the belt uncoiled in his hand. Absalom’s nerve broke at last. He gasped with panic and dashed away, blindly seeking escape where there was none.

  Locke plunged after him.

  Abigail snatched up the little hearth broom and thrust it at Locke’s legs. The man yelled something inarticulate as he lost his balance. He came down heavily, trying to brace himself against the fall with stiff arms.

  His head struck the edge of a chair seat. He lay motionless.

  Over his still body, Abigail and Absalom looked at each other. Suddenly the woman dropped to her knees and began sobbing.

  “I’ve killed him,” she forced out painfully. “I’ve killed him—but I couldn’t let him whip you, Absalom! I couldn’t!”

  The boy caught his lower lip between his teeth. He came forward slowly to examine his father.

  “He’s not dead.”

  Abigail’s breath came out in a long, shuddering sigh.

  “Go on upstairs, Abbie,” Absalom said, frowning a little. “I’ll give him first aid. I know how.”

  “I can’t let you—”

  “Please, Abbie,” he coaxed. “You’ll faint or something. Lie down for a bit. It’s all right, really.”

  At last she took the dropper upstairs. Absalom, with a thoughtful glance at his father, went to the televisor.

  He called the Denver Crèche. Briefly he outlined the situation.

  “What had I better do, Malcolm?”

  “Wait a minute.” There was a pause. Another young face showed on the screen. “Do this,” an assured, high-pitched voice said, and there followed certain intricate instructions. “Got that straight, Absalom?”

  “I have it. It won’t hurt him?”

  “He’ll live. He’s psychotically warped already. This will just give it a different twist, one that’s safe for you. It’s projection. He’ll externalize all his wishes, feelings, and so forth. On you. He’ll get his pleasure only out of what you do, but he won’t be able to control you. You know the psychonamic key of his brain. Work with the frontal lobe chiefly. Be careful of Broca’s area. We don’t want aphasia. He must be made harmless to you, that’s all. Any killing would he awkward to handle. Besides, I suppose you wouldn’t want that.”

  “No,” Absalom said. “H-he’s my father.”

  “All right,” the young voice said. “Leav
e the screen on. I’ll watch and help.”

  Absalom turned toward the unconscious figure on the floor.

  For a long time the world had been shadowy now. Locke was used to it. He could still fulfill his ordinary functions, so he was not insane, in any sense of the word.

  Nor could he tell the truth to anyone. They had created a psychic block. Day after day he went to the university and taught psychonamics and came home and ate and waited in hopes that Absalom would call him on the televisor.

  And when Absalom called, he might condescend to tell something of what he was doing in Baja California. What he had accomplished. What he had achieved. For those things mattered now. They were the only things that mattered. The projection was complete.

  Absalom was seldom forgetful. He was a good son. He called daily, though sometimes, when work was pressing, he had to make the call short. But Joel Locke could always work at his immense scrapbooks, filled with clippings and photographs about Absalom. He was writing Absalom’s biography, too.

  He walked otherwise through a shadow world, existing in flesh and blood, in realized happiness, only when Absalom’s face appeared on the televisor screen. But he had not forgotten anything. He hated Absalom, and hated the horrible, unbreakable bond that would forever chain him to his own flesh—the flesh that was not quite his own, but one step further up the ladder of the new mutation.

  Sitting there in the twilight of unreality, his scrapbooks spread before him, the televisor set never used except when Absalom called, but standing ready before his chair, Joel Locke nursed his hatred and a quiet, secret satisfaction that had come to him.

  Some day Absalom would have a son. Some day. Some day.

  More from Henry Kuttner

  Earth’s Last Citadel

  A mind-bending, time-traveling novel from an undisputed master of the genre.

  During World War II, four humans are hurled a billion years forward in time by a being from an alien galaxy. They have been brought to a dying Earth—to Carcasilla, Earth’s last citadel—where the mutated remnants of humanity are making their final stand against the monstrous creations of a fading world.

  Thrust in the middle of this desperate struggle for survival, the last humans search for a way to break the deadlock in the Armageddon at the end of time.

  Robots Have No Tails

  A complete collection of his Galloway Gallegher stories from the Hugo nominated master of science fiction.

  In this complete collection, Kuttner is back with Galloway Gallegher, his most beloved character in the stories that helped make him famous. Gallegher is a binge-drinking scientist who’s a genius when drunk and totally clueless sober. Hounded by creditors and government officials, he wakes from each bender to discover a new invention designed to solve all his problems—if only he knew how it worked…

  Add in a vain and uncooperative robot assistant, a heckling grandfather, and a host of uninvited guests—from rabbit-like aliens to time-traveling mafia lawyers to his own future corpse—and Gallegher has more on his hands than even he can handle. Time for a drink!

  The Mask of Circe

  From on high of Mount Olympus comes an adventure in mythology, penned by a Hugo-nominated master of the genre.

  Jay Seward remembered a former life in a land of magic, gods, and goddesses—a time when he was Jason of Iolcus, sailing in the enchanted ship Argo to steal the Golden Fleece from the serpent-temples of Apollo. But one night the memories became startlingly real, as the Argo itself sailed out of the spectral mists and a hauntingly beautiful voice called: “Jason…come to me!” And suddenly he was on the deck of the Argo, sailing into danger and magic.

  Ahead of Time

  From one of the most respected of science fiction writers comes a collection of science fiction stories described as “just about as good as the modern magazine science-fantasy story can get.” —J. Francis McComas and Anthony Boucher

  These ten science fiction stories include: Or Else, Home is the Hunter, By These Presents, De Profundis, Camouflage, Year Day, Ghost, Shock, Pile of Trouble, Deadlock.

  Man Drowning

  A torrid tale of violence and murder from an iconic author.

  Nick Banning was a man drowning in a land of far horizons, a land that had all the vigor sucked out of it ages ago by the Arizona sun.

  But it wasn’t the blasting heat of an Arizona desert that bothered Nick—it was the heat of his own emotions, his desire for Sherry, the woman who had told him no.

  But Nick was winding up, faster and faster. He meant to have Sherry—or else.

  The Murder of Eleanor Pope: A Michael Gray Novel

  A master of genre writing, Hugo-nominee Henry Kuttner grabs readers from page one in his first mystery.

  Psychoanalyst Dr. Michael Gray lives in San Francisco, where his thriving practice keeps him busy and his life uneventful. All of this changes when he learns about the murder of Eleanor Pope from Howard Dunne, a troubled patient. The police think that the murder was the result of a bungled burglary, but Dr. Gray is certain that the killer will strike again.

  Murder of a Wife: A Michael Gray Novel

  Dr. Michael Gray is in over his head in this scintillating mystery.

  A known pathological liar, Karen Champion can’t turn to the police—so she goes to the famous psychoanalyst Michael Gray for help. When she tells Gray that her husband is planning to kill her, Gray’s investigation takes him to a quack doctor, a blackmailing private eye, and a killer who found that one vicious murder was only the beginning.

  The Murder of Ann Avery: A Michael Gray Novel

  Time is running out for Dr. Michael Gray—and the suspect list is mounting up.

  When Ann Avery is murdered, headlines scream for a fast conviction for a tough kid with a record of violence. But psychoanalyst Michael Gray has some other suspects, including a vicious gang leader, a drug addict, a blackmailing drunk, and Ann’s clean-cut husband.

  Time is running out for Dr. Gray, and as he searches he knows that his new suspects may be killed.

  Murder of A Mistress: A Michael Gray Novel

  The continuing mysteries of Dr. Michael Gray, the brilliant and unconventional sleuth at the center of this genre-master’s pulse-pounding tale.

  Beverly Bond was the kind of girl men didn’t tell their wives about. She was blond, beautiful, and your friend—for a price. When four people confessed to her murder, the evidence points to Eileen Herrick, a patient of psychoanalyst Michael Gray.

  But Gray believes she’s innocent—and he must solve the killing of a girl who knew too much about too many men who had too damned much to lose.

  The Book of Iod: Ten Cthulhu Stories

  From one of the grand masters of science-fiction comes a collection inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos.

  Hugo-nominee and sci-fi luminary Henry Kuttner was part of the Lovecraft Circle, submitting plot ideas and draft manuscripts to H.P. Lovecraft himself, and Kuttner played an important role in developing the Cthulhu Mythos, one of the seminal works of the genre.

  The Book of Iod is a short story collection containing ten Cthulhu Mythos stories. These stories include: The Secret of Kralitz, The Eater of Souls, The Salem Horror, The Just of Droom-avista, Spawn of Dagon, The Invaders, The Frog, Hydra, Bells of Horror, and The Hunt

  The Time Trap

  1939 Retro-Hugo Awards Best Novella nominee

  A titan of the genre, Henry Kuttner, weaves a spellbinding tale of a time-traveling archaeologist in one of the most fantastic adventures ever conceived.

  Kent Mason is an archaeologist hopelessly lost in the desert. When he stumbles into the ruins of the ancient city of Al Bekr, he unknowingly steps into a time portal and finds himself flung into into the greatest adventure of his life.

  Originally written for Marvel Science Stories, Henry Kuttner spins a rambunctious story filled with more monsters, mayhem, beautiful women, unimaginable threats, and bizarre plot twists than any reader could possibly imagine.

  Elak of At
lantis

  Swords and Sorcery clash with riveting results in these four classic stories!

  When Robert E. Howard died in 1936, some of the greatest science-fiction and fantasy writers stepped into the void to pen amazing tales of swords and sorcery. Weird Tales published these four stories by iconic author Henry Kuttner, perfect for fans of Conan the Barbarian, and vital for every fantasy reader. Depicting a brutal world of swords and magic, with a hint of the Lovecraft mythos, Kuttner unleashes four tales as vital in today’s Game of Thrones world as they were when they first published.

  These stories include: Thunder In the Dawn, The Spawn Of Dagon, Beyond The Phoenix, Dragon Moon

  Prince Raynor

  Swords and Sorcery clash with riveting results in these classic stories!

  Stories include: Cursed be the City, The Citadel of Darkness

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