“He is talking about money,” said the Brigadier. “You must know of money.”
“But I don’t. Pray tell me — what is money?”
The Brigadier answered gently. “It is a token, either paper or metal, that has a stated value. It is used to pay for goods or services. You must use it, certainly, to buy what you need, your food and clothing.”
“We do not buy,” she said. “We give. I give my poems and my songs. Others give me food and clothing as I have need of them.”
“A perfect communistic society,” said Lansing.
“I see no reason for all of you to look so shocked and puzzled,” Jurgens said. “Sandra’s way is the only sensible way for a society to operate.”
“Which means, I suppose,” said the Brigadier, “that you have no money, either.”
He turned to Mine Host and said, “Sorry, old chap. It seems you’re out of luck.”
“Hold up for a moment,” said Lansing. To Mine Host he said, “Does it sometimes happen that only one member of a group carries money? Money possibly supplied by the agency that has initiated each particular wild goose chase?”
“It sometimes happens that way,” said Mine Host. “As a matter of fact, it almost always happens that way.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“Well,” said Mine Host, licking his lips, “a man can never know. And he must be careful.”
“Do I gather,” asked the Parson, “that you, Mr. Lansing, are the treasurer for our group?”
“It would seem so,” Lansing said. “I wondered at the time.”
He took one of the golden coins out of his jacket pocket and flipped it to the innkeeper.
“That is honest gold,” he said, not knowing if it was or not. “How far can that coin cover us?”
“Two more like this,” said Mine Host, “will take care of the meal tonight, the night’s lodgings and tomorrow’s breakfast.”
“I think, Mr. Lansing,” said the Parson, “that he may be gouging you.”
“I think so, too,” said Lansing. “I think the one coin might cover all of it. But out of sheer generosity, I’ll give you another, but no more.”
Mine Host whined. “With costs going up and labor so expensive…”
“One more,” said Lansing, holding up the second coin, “but that is all.”
“All right,” said Mine Host. “The next group may prove more generous.”
The Parson said, “I still think it’s too much.”
Lansing flipped the coin, and the innkeeper grabbed it with a swoop of his flabby hand.
“It well may be too much,” Lansing told the Parson, “but I do not wish him saying that we cheated him.”
Mine Host got slowly to his feet. “When you wish to retire,” he said, “call me and you’ll be shown to your rooms.”
When he was gone Mary said, “What a strange way to finance an expedition. You could have said nothing, Edward, and hung onto the money.”
“It wouldn’t have washed,” he said. “He knew that someone had it.”
“It appears, from this matter of the money,” she said, “that someone sent us here.”
“Or something.”
“That is right. Or something. They must want us here quite badly to have paid our way.”
“In that case wouldn’t you think they would have told us what they wanted?”
“Yes, one would. We are dealing with strange people.”
“Mr. Lansing, it may be none of our business,” said the Brigadier, “but I wonder if you’d mind telling us how you got the money.”
“I’d be glad to,” Lansing said. “First of all, have any of you ever heard of a slot machine?”
It seemed none of them had.
“Well, then,” said Lansing, “I’ll tell you a tale of students and of slot machines and of an eccentric friend of mine.”
He told them and they listened, paying close attention.
“I must say,” said the Brigadier when Lansing had finished, “that your experience was excessively involved.”
“All the time that it was happening,” said Lansing, “I had the feeling that I was being taken. And yet I had to go ahead with it. My curiosity drove me to it.”
“Perhaps it was a good thing that you were driven to it,” said the Brigadier. “Otherwise the rest of us would have been stranded here without a penny to our name.”
“It is strange,” said Sandra, “how differently we were translated to this place — I through listening to music, you through the agency of these things you call slot machines.”
“I was done in,” said Mary, “by, of all things, a blueprint. A fellow engineer brought it to me, claiming there was something in it that he did not understand. He insisted I have a look at it, and he pointed with his finger to where he wanted me to look. It was nothing I had ever seen before and as I struggled to make some sense of it, I was caught up in the configuration that was represented on it and the next I knew I was standing in a forest. I am struck by the coincidence that both Edward and myself were trapped by another human — in his case a student, in my case another engineer. This would argue that whoever, or whatever, did this to us has agents on our worlds.”
“For a time I thought,” Lansing said to Mary, “that you and I might be from the same world, the same culture. Our societies seemed very much the same. But I was looking at you when I said a certain word and I could tell that you were puzzled by it. It seemed you didn’t know what communistic meant.”
“I know the word,” she said. “I was surprised by the context in which you used it. You seemed to make it a proper noun, as if a communistic society might exist.” “On my world it does.”
“There was, I am sure,” said the Parson, “no human provocation for what happened to me. I saw the Glory. I had been seeking it for years. I had felt at times that I was close upon it, but each time it eluded me. And then, standing in a turnip field, I saw it, brighter and more glorious than I had thought it would be. I held up my hands to worship it, and as I did it became larger and brighter and I fell into it.”
“It seems to me the evidence is clear,” said the Brigadier, “that each of us is from a different world — different, but human worlds. It would seem, as well, that no further evidence is needed. The testimony of the four of you is quite sufficient. You will pardon me, I hope, if I do not join with you in telling by what strange circumstance I happen to be here.”
“I, for one, would take it rather badly,” said the Parson. “The rest of us have spoken fully—”
“It’s all right,” said Lansing, interrupting. “If the General does not want to bare his soul, it’s quite all right with me.”
“But in a band of brothers…”
“We’re not brothers, Parson. There are two women here. Even in the sense you mean it, I wonder if we’re brothers.” “If we are,” said the robot, Jurgens, “we must prove it on the road ahead.”
“If we take that road,” the Parson said. “I, for one, am taking it,” said the Brigadier. “I would die of boredom, cooped up in this inn. This miserable innkeeper of ours spoke of a city up ahead. Certainly a city of any sort would offer better accommodation and entertainment, and perhaps even more instruction, than this pig sty of a place.”
“He also mentioned a cube,” said Sandra. “I wonder what it could be. Never before have I heard anything described simply as a cube.”
8
They were late in getting started. Breakfast had been unaccountably delayed and there had been much haggling over the purchase of items they would need upon the road — food, clothing, hiking shoes, sleeping bags, belt knives, hatchets, matches, cooking gear, a long list of equipment. The Brigadier had insisted on a gun and had become quite worked up when informed by the innkeeper that no weapons were for sale.
