Universe 5 - [Anthology] Read online

  He gazed about him in mute bewilderment, and did not flinch even when the roof of the house was lifted off just like the lid of a box, letting in the unconscionable, inordinate light of the stars. He had just time to breathe, “Oh, wow!”

  I have identified the note that keeps sounding. I checked it on the mandolin before the glue melted. It is the note A, the one that drove Robert Schumann mad. It is a beautiful, clear tone, much clearer now that the stars are visible. I shall miss the cat I wonder if he found what it was we lost?

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  * * * *

  HOW IT FELT

  by George Alec Effinger

  George Alec Effinger has been writing a series of stories about the far future of humanity that contrast the miracles of our technology in that distant time with the matter-of-fact quality of the life then. See, for two examples, “The Ghost Writer” in Universe 3, and the following dry narrative of the last person on Earth who could feel emotion.

  * * * *

  A studied carelessness. It was a phrase that held a peculiar fascination for her; its paradox of attitudes struck her as sophisticated in a way that she herself was not. Adopting a studied carelessness of manner could make her appear more sophisticated to her friends.

  It was late at night when Vivi came to this conclusion. She was standing beneath an immense tree in the congregation area of her home. The tree was one of her favorites; its bark was tough, black, scored with a vertical network of furrows. Its limbs were dressed with dangling shawls of Spanish moss, which Vivi had created in imitation of Alhu’s trees. Vivi’s friends, for the most part, had never seen Alhu’s, and they frequently remarked on Vivi’s imagination. She always smiled but said nothing when they complimented her.

  The stars frightened her, and as she stood beneath her tree she kept her eyes down, refusing to look through the tangle of leaves into the threatening face of the night. She tried instead to imagine how her friends would react when she assumed a new personality. Moa would be the first to notice. Moa was always the first; Moa would raise her eyebrows and whisper something in Vivi’s ear: how bored Moa was growing, how tired Moa was of wandering through a lifetime without events, how much Moa welcomed Vivi’s eccentricities. Moa would kiss Vivi us a reward. They would spend the day in repetitious sexual gratifications.

  But then it would become dark. Vivi would be terrified by starlight, seized by a hatred of the moon. As always, Moa would not understand, and she would return to her own home. Vivi would be alone, as she was every night.

  Vivi sighed. Even her fantasies were empty.

  The branches above her head rustled. Vivi laughed bitterly. It won’t work, she thought. You can’t trick me that way. Vivi didn’t look up into the muttering boughs where stars waited like determined voyeurs among the leaves. She felt the rough side of the tree a final time, rubbing her fingers painfully over the stone-hard ridges. Still staring into the grass at her feet, she moved slowly away.

  A thin wall ran across the congregation area, roughly parallel to the narrow brook. The wall was seven feet tall and four times that in length. It contained various devices which dispensed food and drink, as well as whatever other luxuries her companions required. Another wall, beyond the grove of the congregation area, held the transportation unit. Still other service units, scattered about the several square miles of her open-air house, provided everything Vivi or her friends could ever desire.

  The carefully trimmed lawn changed to clumps of grass, then to isolated brownish stalks of weed growing in a narrow track of sand and pebbles. Vivi sat down at the edge of the brook. She dipped her hand in the water; it was a pleasantly warm temperature, the same temperature as the air in her home. The temperature of both was constant. Trees grew along the opposite side of the brook, and their leafy branches prevented the stars’ reflections from frightening Vivi. She was bored. She was young, but she was bored. Nevertheless, she couldn’t yet retire to her sleeping area. It was still too early in the night to lie on her back and stare at the evil constellations, letting the infinite horror of space invade her mind. If she did that too soon, then nothing would be left to pass the remainder of the night. She couldn’t face that possibility. “Vivi!”

  She turned around; the thin wall blocked her view of her visitor, but she recognized the voice. It was Moa. “I’m here by the brook,” said Vivi.

  Moa walked around the wall and joined Vivi at the edge of the water. “I thought you’d be here,” said Moa. “I want to show you something.”

  Vivi felt a sudden excitement. “Have you found something new?” she asked.

  “I m not certain,” said Moa. “You’ll have to help me.”

  “Of course,” murmured Vivi, a little disappointed.

  “I’ve brought Tagea. I hope you don’t mind. He’s waiting in your passagerie. He gave me the idea.”

  “No,” said Vivi. “I don’t mind.”

  “Good,” said Moa, standing and pulling Vivi up beside her. “Let’s use your transportation unit. It’ll be quicker.” The two women splashed across the brook and through the small stand of trees. They came out on a wide meadow which was part of Vivi’s sleeping area. It was here that, during the daylight hours, she and Moa shared the often tedious pleasures of their bodies. Vivi did not have to keep her gaze fixed on the ground; alone no longer, she found no terror in the stars. She wondered what new thing Moa had discovered.

  She comes to me more often than to any of the others, thought Vivi. It is because I have emotion. It is because I can entertain varying states of mind. Moa cannot. None of the others can. Only I. And the price of this lonely talent is panic. Vivi walked beside Moa, trying to hold her pace down to Moa’s languid speed. On the far side of the meadow was a ravine. They climbed down into it; Vivi enjoyed the humidity, the feel of the mud beneath her bare feet, even the biting of her insects. She glanced at Moa. Her companion’s expression was no different than it ever was. Moa was without emotion.

  They scrambled up the other side of the ravine. Vivi saw the man Tagea waiting by the wall. He said nothing when the two women appeared. Moa led the way, and Vivi followed. They stepped through the portal of the transportation unit; the unit, tied into the tect system buried deep beneath the surface of the earth, transported them to Moa’s chosen destination. Vivi blinked rapidly as she walked across the threshold. Wherever they were, it was now bright daylight.

  “This is a new world,” said Moa.

  “I found it a few years ago,” said Tagea. “It amused me, but now I’ve given it to Moa.”

  Vivi yawned; it was the first outward sign of her new campaign of studied carelessness. She would be unimpressed, not at all curious. She said nothing. She could see that Moa was disappointed.

  “That sun in the sky is the center star of the Wheel of the Sleeper,” said Moa. “I recall your hatred of stars. I remember that this star seems specially malignant to you. We have come here for several reasons, one of which is to prove to you that you have nothing to fear.”

  “Ah, Moa,” said Vivi quietly, “you won’t understand. It is not a product of objective thought, this terror I feel. It is something else, something which you cannot share. It is my burden alone.”

  “It is your illness alone,” said Tagea. He stared at Vivi, shielding his eyes with both hands against the glare of the odd sun. Vivi did not answer, though her anger almost caused her to scream. But that would not have been in keeping with her new self.

  “Are you unwell?” asked Moa. “You do not appear to be as unsteady in your responses. You are repressing the irrational personality that is your chief asset.”

  Vivi shrugged. Moa took her hand and led her across a field of waving blue grasses. Tagea followed them; Vivi could hear him muttering to himself. It was a habit of his whenever it was obvious that he was being excluded from the immediate sexual situation. The three people walked for several miles. Vivi was becoming increasingly fatigued; at first, the magenta tint of the sky intrigued her, but that lasted only a hundred pac
es. The irritating tickle of the grass occupied her for another hundred. Then there was nothing. The horizon was empty. There was only Moa, still holding her hand, and Tagea’s smug monologue behind them.

  Why are we here? thought Vivi. Surely in her search for diversion, Moa had found something of interest It must lie beyond the endless blue sea of grass. Vivi couldn’t allow herself to ask the question aloud, however. She was establishing her character. Moa, who had no emotions, needed time to notice and analyze the difference.

  It was a difficult thing being the only person left with true feelings. Vivi often cursed her emotions; they interfered with her relations with Moa and the others. Vivi was more of a creature, a temporary entertainment, than an equal to them. She wished that she could throw her feelings away, strip them off as all the other people had done generations before. But then again, she was glad of her affliction. Her emotions helped her pass the awful hours. She never had to search the world—and other worlds—for amusement.

  “You are oddly silent,” said Moa.

  “It is a mood,” said Tagea. “Several of her moods include silence. I would have thought you’d have cataloged them all by now. Perhaps this is ‘spite’ again. Or ‘petulance.’ We’ve had them all before. I have long since grown weary of them. They are so limited.”

  “Is he right, Vivi?” asked Moa. “Is it another emotion?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Vivi. “I’m just being quiet. Is there something I should be saying?”

  “No, of course not,” said Moa. “But you’re usually more responsive.” Vivi only shrugged once more.

  They emerged finally from the broad prairie, coming out on the bank of a small, muddy river. On the opposite bank was a collection of artificial buildings. Vivi forgot her new personality for a moment and gasped in surprise.

  “Those are homes,” said Moa. She sounded pleased that Vivi had at last reacted. “They’re like our homes, in a way, except that these low-level creatures trap themselves within physical limits. They must be surrounded by the products of their labor. It is a peculiar and annoying form of pride.”

  “I ought to defend them,” said Tagea. “After all, I discovered them. They think I’m some kind of universal authority. It was amusing for a short time, but it didn’t last.”

  Moa frowned. “You can’t protect them now,” she said. ”You gave them to me.”

  “Yes,” said Tagea. “I had no intention of interceding. I was only considering alternatives.”

  “Are you going to kill them?” asked Vivi. She said it with her air of studied carelessness so that it didn’t seem to matter to her whether Moa answered or not.

  Moa walked down to the river’s edge. She scooped up a handful of stones, “tect will help me, even here,” she said. “Watch.” Moa extended her arms. The water began to churn violently. Rocks from the bed of the river and from the solid ground tore themselves loose and piled up to make a bridge. “I won’t kill those creatures directly,” said Moa. “Maybe indirectly- We’ll see.”

  Vivi crossed the rock span behind Moa and Tagea. She wondered at how simple it had been to graft a new point of view onto her personality. It was no effort at all to maintain her unconcerned attitude; it was now the most natural thing to wander about with her companions, unimpressed, unaffected, somewhat weary. Moa was already puzzled by Vivi’s behavior, but Tagea, the possessor of decidedly inferior mental powers, hadn’t yet noticed. Vivi felt less than she had anticipated; she had hoped for a different wealth of worldliness, but had acquired little that was remarkable. She understood that this was how Moa had lived her entire life, without measurable degrees of emotion. It was an attractive quality in Moa. Vivi hoped it would be the same in herself.

  “Look,” said Tagea. He pointed toward the nearest of the buildings. A small gathering of creatures had formed.

  “What do you think of them?” said Moa.

  “Nothing, as yet,” said Vivi lazily. “I noticed that they have covered their bodies with furry containers, even though the sun is uncomfortably warm.”

  “Do you wish to converse with them?” asked Tagea.

  “Don’t you want to love them, or be afraid?” asked Moa.

  Vivi stretched and yawned. “Are we in a hurry to return?” she said. Moa shook her head. Vivi waited. Moa raised her eyebrows and shook her head once more.

  The creatures shouted at them as the three walked through their town. Moa and Tagea took no notice. Vivi was startled by the creatures’ appearance at first, but after a short time she found their ugliness monotonous. Moa led the way beyond the stinking settlement; Vivi noticed that her feelings were fewer and weaker than ever before. She was pleased. She walked across a broad, stony plain and climbed several low hills on the far side. At the top of the tallest of these hills, Moa turned and pointed back in the direction they had traveled. “There,” she said. “That’s the community of the native creatures. You can see the smoke.”

  “It is much more pleasant here,” said Vivi.

  “The path is unbearably steep,” said Tagea. “The rocks in the soil are uncomfortable to walk upon. We will only have to repeat the journey to get home.”

  “Where we are, tect is,” said Vivi. “tect will take us home from here.”

  “I had planned to walk all the way back to the point where we arrived on this world,” said Moa. “It will be an adventure.”

  “Yes,” said Vivi. “An adventure.”

  “Boring,” said Tagea.

  “Be seated,” said Moa. Vivi and Tagea glanced at each other, then made themselves as comfortable as possible in the dry dust of the hilltop. Moa licked her lips and walked a few steps away from them. She faced away from the creatures’ village toward a vast, gray body of water in the distance. “That is an inland sea,” she said “It is larger than any sea on our world except the sunset ocean.” Moa raised her hands toward the water. Perspiration appeared on her brow and on her upper lip. She held her position for many minutes. Vivi said nothing. Tagea was not even watching. Moa’s body glistened with sweat. Her concentration was complete; her connection with tect deepened until Moa quivered with a dangerous power.

  “I’ve seen this before,” said Tagea. “I think I’ve seen everything before.”

  “So have I,” whispered Vivi. “But there’s no one that can match the taste and delicacy of Moa’s technique. I had hoped that we’d see something new, though.”

  “There’s still time,” said Tagea. “We’ll be here for quite a while, if I know her.”

  The outline of the giant sea was blurred by distance. Still, Vivi could see that it was changing shape. Moa pointed one hand at the water, but swung the other slowly toward the neighboring hills. Carefully coordinating her devastating strokes, Moa splintered the ground at the edge of the ocean, and crushed the small mountains that stood between her and the water.

  The hills turned from a rich blue to an ashen gray. Moa pulled moisture from them, desiccated them, crumbled the ancient bones of rock into a fragile powder. The hills collapsed in great clouds which obscured Vivi’s vision for a long while. Moa waited until the storm she had created subsided; the day ended with Moa standing, posing. Tagea slept. Vivi practiced her lack of passion. At dusk the air cleared. The dust settled into low mounds on the plain, white and sterile. Moa let loose the waters of the sea through channels and fissures she built among the dead hills. The water rolled quickly, noisily at first until Moa gestured. The ocean became sluggish and thick. The water contracted.

  The night passed quietly. Vivi watched the ocean shrink in its new course until the entire inland sea had shriveled to the size of a small pond. By then it was nearly dawn.

  “Have I missed anything interesting?” asked Tagea.

  “A pyrotechnic display,” said Vivi. “Much more energetic than her usual, I suppose. Watch.”

  The pond that was all that remained of the ocean sat between two mounds of white powder. The water was a dark green. Moa pressed her fingers together, and the water bubbled. It
shrank even further, rolling into a sphere of black substance. The sphere wasted away into a mere ball the size of a fruit, the color of the powdery hills, Moa extended her hands, and the ball began to spin. The ball bounced across the distance separating the hills from their creator. It became lighter, finally rolling as softly as a hairball to its finish at Moa’s feet. She nodded and bent to pick up the round clump of stuff. She held it for a moment and dropped it back again. She forgot it. Moa said nothing.

  Tagea yawned, and Vivi merely stared. Moa was not yet finished; she had only begun to block out her work. Vivi could not visualize the totality of Moa’s project and thus could not understand the reasons behind each of her specific, sure touches. Still, Vivi did not wonder. She would not give Moa that ever again.

  After a time Moa stopped. Her arms fell to her sides at last, her bunched back muscles relaxed. To Vivi, Moa seemed to shrink, to withdraw within herself. She became human again. Moa turned to her friends and sighed. “I will study your reactions now,” she said.