Orbit 13 - [Anthology] Read online

  But then I seed a Mother Mary commune, and I thinked one of they propers could tell me the way back, so I goed inside, and they haved they own singalong, about Jesus and such, and good smellies in the air. And I sitted down, and singed for a while. But then I remembered how I was starvy and loosed, so I started to hyster. And then, the commune-daddy corned and said he would tell me the way home if I letted him look inside my leggies. So I doed that, and he telled me the way home.

  When I finally getted back, lots was sitting in the aud, like before, singing “Hot Sunshine.” But some haved manglies and grunchies and they tunics and leggies was torn. And some was still loosed. I sitted down and singed, but were feeling awful buzzery from being so starvy.

  But later on, a privauto corned to the door, and gived the mommy a big box of food-a. It weren’t flavoured, and looked kind of like a cleaning sponge, but we was glad to get it, and feeled a whole lot better, after.

  Except for some of the queenies, what getted such bad manglies that they haved to go the the nurse-mommy. And three of them never corned back. And also, some of the queenies getted so losed in the crowd that they never corned back neither. So we getted some new queenies to fill they places. Lucky they was all sobby young ones from they parents communes, and none was smelly freakies.

  The only other differy thing what happened in them waiting months were Jonsy getted tickets to the museum, what I never beed to before, and were very excity to go.

  All the way to the rapid, he holded my hand real tight and telled me about army school, and how he get to walk around in the streets all day, with a big bag on his shoulder and a broom and a stick with a point on the end, to pick up garbage. And he said how interesting it were seeing all the strange communes and folks, and stuff, and how he getted a super-tiny singalong to put in his ear, so he wouldn’t get bored.

  And he telled me how jolly-good it would be when we’s married, with a room by weselves, every night. And our honey-trip, and maybe a outing every month, and maybe we could save points for a vacation trip someday. And how we’d get a baby, someday, just like the movie-progs, a real cute one, and we’d save points so it could go live in a queeny or tommy commune when it were twelve years old. And so on, till I nearly bursted with thrill.

  And then, while we was waiting for the rapid, he putted his arms around me, super-tight, and gived me a rubby kiss, right on the mouth, and petted my back, real shivery like, and maked me feel all burny hot, and full of love-do.

  The museum were jolly-fine. It were full of stuffed-up animals, showing how they used to live in the oldy days. Lions and tigers in the jungly, looking real scary. And birdies in trees with they eggies. And super-giant dinosaurs. And elephants and fishies and doggies and catties, what used to live right in communes with folks, and even super-teeny animals called buggies.

  They was also stuffed-up folks what used to live in the oldy days. Eskimos, what I knowed right off, cause I once seed a cable-prog about them. And Americans and Chinese, and so on. All of them with funny, super teeny communes what was called houses, and with trees all around, like it were Golden Gate Park, or something.

  In the museum aud, we seed a scaredy film about all the awful things the red folks army do, and how theyeats folks, and stuff. And we all gleamed a whole lot when the aud-daddy telled us not to worry, cause the white folks army were almost to Shanghai. And then they gived us punch-a and cake-a and played “Riding on the Rapid” and “Hot Sunshine” on the singalong.

  When we walked back to the rapid, Jonsy telled me how he were glad to be in the army and how he wouldn’t never let no red folks eat me. And he putted his around me again, and gived me another super-long and super-hard kiss. And I kissed him back, sugarsweet hard as I could.

  Well, finally, after I couldn’t hardly stand it no more, Jonsy telled me the waiting were over. We could get our room in the family commune. But first we’d get married, real good.

  So the next day, I telled my counselor-mommy, and she were real glad I finded such a brainsy tommy, whats in the army, and getted tickets for a honey-trip in Yosemite, and all. And she said how we could get married next fun-night, and I could invite my parents.

  I were glad about that, cause I hain’t chittered with my parents in months, but when I phoned the Geary Street family commune, where they lived, the daddy said how Mr. and Mrs. Andrews was still losed from the day when all a folks tried to get to the food-a depot, but if they getted finded again, he would tell them about my wedding. I hystered a little, but my counselor-mommy said they probably finded someplace else to live, or something, and I getted to choose chocolate or vanilla cake-a for my wedding, so I choosed chocolate, what are yumyum.

  On that night, I weared my best tunic and julies and leggies and even some head paint, and doed curlies up real fine. Jonsy corned with his three pals, and were wearing his new army tunic and leggies of bright green, what looked headhi. And his face and head, and even his eyebrowios was shaved. He looked so strong and handsome, I were stuffed up with love-do from the sight.

  The fun-night were just like usual, and I could hardly sit still, but then, just before the movie-prog, the aud-mommy getted up and said, “I got a special surprise for you. Our queeny-pal, Silvy, is gonna marry her tommy, Jonsy. And we got chocolate cake-a and cherry punch-a for a treat. Let’s all sing the special wedding song!”

  So they all singed,

  “Happy wedding to you

  Happy wedding to you

  Happy wedding, dear Silvy and Jonsy,

  Happy wedding to you.”

  And then the aud-mommy said, “You is now man and wife.”

  And then we blowed out the candle on the cake-a, and Jonsy gived me a sugarsweet kiss, what maked me hyster to think every was looking.

  And then they showed a excity movie-prog about this tom in the oldy days, with a mask, called the Long Ranger, what killed baddy freakies. And Jonsy putted his arm around me for the whole thing.

  When it were time for him to go home, he gived me another big kiss, and said, “I’ll come and get you early tomarrio, for the honey-trip to Yosemite.” And kissed me again, and the aud-mommy doedn’t even tell him to quit, cause we was married folks now, and could do whatever we wanted. I were so buzzery that night, I couldn’t drowse at all.

  The next morning, right after bruncheon, I putted all my privy things in a bag, and he corned to get me. I said lots of hystery goodbyes to my queeny pals, and even to the mommies, what I wouldn’t never see no more.

  Jonsy helped me carry my bag. He said most all his privy things was already in our room at the family commune. Our own room! I wouldn’t see it till the next day, though, after our honey-trip.

  We was going to take the rapid all the way to Yosemite, what takes nearly three hours! Yosemite are a super-big park. It got a mountain and a waterfall and lots of trees. And they is stuffed-up birdies living in the trees, just like the oldy days. And the stuffed-up birdies gots little singalongs inside them, cause oldy day birdies used to sing. But the stuffed-up birdies is better, cause they sing songs with words, what is more fun for folks to join in.

  Inside Yosemite are a big family commune, where folks from all northy Cal comes for they honey-trip, or, if they saves enough points, for they vacations.

  The rapid ride were super-long. We was lucky to get some seats, after a hour. We was underground, of course, and couldn’t see no scenery. But Jonsy said he thinked it were pretty much the same, all the way to Yosemite. Streets and communes and lots of broken-down stuff and queenies and tommies and parents and freakies. Lucky the singalong were playing. “Hot Sunshine” and “Old Man Moses” and “Riding on the Rapid,” so we doedn’t get bored, and besides, Jonsy holded me close, all the way.

  It were nearly dark when we getted there. But between the rapid- stop and the commune was two trees, with the stuffed-up birdies singing “Hot Sunshine.” They was also some Real Food League propers, saying how our reflexes was getting rotten, but we doedn’t give them no juice.

  We
gived our tickets to the commune-daddy, what said we should go have supper. The communiteria were the biggest I never seed, with lots of strange folks chittering and laughing and hystering, happily. There were turkey-a for supper, what are my yumyum favorite. And after there were some bingo and singing, and then the daddy telled us all it were bed-time, what maked my hyster to think of.

  So we goed looking for our privroom. The first time I never been in one! We gotted to climb a bunch of stairs and go down a couple of halls, and keeped getting losed, but finally we finded it.

  The room were little, but jolly-fine. It haved only two bunk-beds, instead of four, like my oldy room. And it haved a chair to sit on, and a pitcher of water-a and two cups. And it were right near the pissy. It doedn’t have no window, but I doedn’t care, cause I just wanted to look at my Jonsy.

  Then we was both feeling a little buzzery and shy, and standed there, chittering and hystering a little. And finally, Jonsy said we should turn our backs and put our night tunics on. So we doed that, but it maked us hyster a whole lot, cause I never seed no tommy in his night tunic, and he never seed no queeny in one, neither.

  Then he taked my hand, and we both sitted down on the lower bunk together. And he started to kiss me and hug me, and pat my back and my curlies and all kinds of other places, and I were kissing him and petting him, too, and it were just like a movie-prog.

  Then he said, “I loves you, Silvy.”

  And I said, “I loves you super-much, and I feels headhi about us being married.”

  And he said, “I feels headhi, too. Just like a movie-prog.”

  And I said, “Me, too.”

  And he said, “Tomarrio, before we has to go back, we can take a walky, and we’ll see the trees, and the waterfall, and the mountain, and we’ll singalong with the birdies, and then we’ll go back to our own family commune and be together, just like now, doing whatever we want.”

  And I said, “That’s the most sugarsweet thing in the world.”

  And then the speaker in the wall said, “It’s lights out, go to your own bunk. No more chittering. It’s lights out. Go to your own bunk. No more chittering,” and so on.

  So then he said, “Well, we both haved a longy day, and better go dozy.” So he climbed into the upper bunk. And I curled up, under the blanket of the lower bunk, what were super-comfy.

  And he whispered, “Good night, lovey Silvy.”

  And I whispered back, “Good night, lovey Jonsy.”

  And then we both hystered to think we was chittering after lights-out, and was getting to sleep in the same room, together, like real married folks.

  Then I heard him breathing and snory, like, cause he were dozing, and even though I were headhi and buzzery, I started to feel dozy also. And super-glad, cause I were the luckiest queeny I knowed, and a real married folk, with the best tommy in the world, and tomarrio I could hear the stuffed-up birdies sing.

  <>

  * * * *

  R. A. Lafferty

  AND NAME MY NAME

  1

  It was said our talk was gone or rare

  And things with us were ill,

  But we’re seven apes from everywhere

  A-walking up a hill.

  THEY CAME to those Kurdish highlands by ways that surely were not the best in the world. They came with a touch of furtiveness. It was almost as if they wished to come invisibly. It had been that way the other times also, with the other groups.

  There were seven creatures in most of the groups coming, and there were seven in this group: two from the Indies, two from Greater Africa, two from Smaller Africa (sometimes called Europe), one from Little Asia. There was no rule about this, but there was always variety in the groups.

  “I never believed that the last one was truly valid,” said Joe Sunrise. He was the one from Little Asia: he was big and brindled. “Yes, I still regard the last one as an interloper. Oh, he did show greater power than ourselves. He set us back into a certain place, and since that time we don’t talk very much or very well. We don’t do any of the things as well as we did before. I suppose he is master of us, for a little while, and in a skimpy way. I believe, though, that that ‘little while’ is finished today. I believe that he will be shown as no more than a sad aberration of ourselves, as a step backwards or at least sideways.

  “But it will be a true stage of the sequence today, as it was in our own primary day, as it was when we named the world and all its fauna, when we set it into its hierarchy.”

  “It comes to me from the old grapevine,” said Mary Rainwood, the blondish or reddish female from the Indies, “that the Day of the Whales was a big one. For showiness it topped even our own takeover. The account of it is carved in rocks in whale talk, in rocks that are over a mile deep under a distant ocean: It is an account that no more than seven whales can still read. But there are several giant squids who can read it also, and squids are notoriously loose-mouthed. Things like that are told around.

  “There are others that stand out in the old memories, though they may not have happened quite as remembered. And then there were the less memorable ones: the Day of the Hyenas, for instance; or that of the present ruler (so like and yet so unlike ourselves) whose term is ending now. I for one am glad to see this one end.”

  “There is an air of elegance about the New One,” said Kingman Savanna, the male delegate from Greater Africa. “He also is said, in a different sense from the one who now topples from the summit, to be both very like and very unlike ourselves. The New One hasn’t been seen yet, but one of real elegance will be foreknown. Ah, but we also were elegant in our short time! So, I am told, were the Elephants. There was also something special about the Day of the Dolphins. But about this passing interloper there has not been much special.”

  “What if this new event and coming blocks us out still more?” Linger Quick-One asked in worry. “What if it leaves us with still less speech and art? What can we do about our own diminishment?”

  “We can grin a little,” Joe Sunrise said with a certain defiance. “We can gnash our teeth. We can console ourselves with the thought that he will be diminished still more.”

  “He? Who?” Kingman asked.

  “The Interloper: he under whom we have lived for this latter twisted and foreshortened era. The Days of the Interlopers are always short-lived, and when their day is finished they tend to lose their distinction and to merge with the lords of the day before.”

  “They with us? Ugh!” Mary Rainwood voiced it

  * * * *

  2

  There were seven persons or creatures going in this band, and Joe Sunrise of Little Asia seemed to be the accepted leader. They walked slowly but steadily, seeming to be in some pain, as if they were not used to wearing shoes or robes. But they were well shod and well wrapped; they were wrapped entirely in white or gray robes such as the desert people wore, such as fewer of the highland people wore. They were hooded, they were girt, they bore packs and bundles. They were as if handless within their great gray gloves; they were almost faceless within their hoods and wrappings.

  But two things could not be hidden if one peered closely at them: the large, brown, alert, observing eyes (these eyes had been passively observing now for ten thousand generations); and their total hairiness wherever the least bit of face or form gave itself away.

  Well, they had a place to go and they were going there, but they had a great uneasiness about it all. These seven, by the way, out of all the members of their several species remaining on Earth, still retained speech and the abstracting thought that goes with it. And on what dark day had these gifts been lost by all the rest of their closest kindred?

  And such was the case with almost all of the so-different groups moving toward the meeting place. Such was the case with the elands and the antelopes, with the hogs and the hippos, with the asses and the zebras, with the eagles and the cranes, with the alligators and the gavials, with the dolphins and with the sharks. They were small elites representing l
arge multitudes, and they retained certain attributes of elites that the multitudes had lost.

  Came Polar Bears on bergs past Crete,

  And Mammoths seen by Man,

  And Crocodiles on tortured feet,

  And Whales in Kurdistan.

  There had been all through the Near East, and then all through the world, a general hilarity and an air of hoax about the reports of the “Invisible Animals.” There were, of course, the bears that walked and talked like men and were reported as coming out of the Russias. One of these bears, so the joke went, entered a barroom in Istanbul. The bear was nattily dressed, smoked a cigar, laid a hundred-lira note on the bar and ordered a rum and cola.

  The barman didn’t know what to do, so he went back to the office and asked the boss.

  “Serve the bear,” the boss said, “only don’t give him ninety lira change. Give him ten lira only. We will make the prodigies pay for being prodigies.”