The Martian Chronicles

children ran in torchlit alleys, gold spiders in their hands throwing out films of web. Here or there a late supper was prepared in tables where lava bubbled silvery and hushed. In the amphitheaters of a hundred towns on the night side of Mars the brown Martian people with gold coin eyes were leisurely met to fix their attention upon stages where musicians made a serene music flow up like blossom scent on the still air.

Upon one stage a woman sang.

The audience stirred.

She stopped singing. She put her hand to her throat. She nodded to the musicians and they began again.

The musicians played and she sang, and this time the audience sighed and sat forward, a few of the men stood up in surprise, and a winter chill moved through the amphitheater. For it was an odd and a frightening and a strange song this woman sang. She tried to stop the words from coming out of her lips, but the words were these:

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes…”

The singer dasped her hands to her mouth. She stood, bewildered.

“What words are those?” asked the musicians.

“What song is that?”

“What language is that!”

And when they blew again upon their golden horns the strange music came forth and passed slowly over the audience, which now talked aloud and stood up.

“What’s wrong with you?” the musicians asked each other.

“What tune is that you played?”

“What tune did you play?”

The woman wept and ran from the stage, And the audience moved out of the amphitheater. And all around the nervous towns of Mars a similar thing had happened. A coldness had come, like white snow falling on the air.

In the black alleys, under the torches, the children sang:

“ — and when she got there, the cupboard was bare,

And so her poor dog had none!”

“Children!” voices cried. “What was that rhyme? Where did you learn it?”

“We just thought of it, all of a sudden. It’s just words we don’t understand.”

Doors slammed. The streets were deserted. Above the blue hills a green star rose.

All over the night side of Mars lovers awoke to listen to their loved ones who lay humming in the darkness.

“What is that tune?”

And in a thousand villas, in the middle of the night, women awoke, screaming. They had to be soothed while the tears ran down their faces, “There, there. Sleep. What’s wrong? A dream?”

“Something terrible will happen in the morning.”

“Nothing can happen, all is well with us.”

A hysterical sobbing. “It is coming nearer and nearer and nearer!”

“Nothing can happen to us. What could? Sleep now. Sleep.”

It was quiet in the deep morning of Mars, as quiet as a cool and black well, with stars shining in the canal waters, and, breathing in every room, the children curled with their spiders in closed hands, the lovers arm in arm, the moons gone, the torches cold, the stone amphitheaters deserted.

The only sound, just before dawn, was a night watchman, far away down a lonely street, walking along in the darkness, humming a very strange song…

August 1999: THE EARTH MEN

Whoever was knocking at the door didn’t want to stop. Mrs. Ttt threw the door open. “Well?”

“You speak English!” The man standing there was astounded.

“I speak what I speak,” she said.

“It’s wonderful English!” The man was in uniform. There were three men with him, in a great hurry, all smiling, all dirty.

“What do you want?” demanded Mrs. Ttt.

“You are a Martian!” The man smiled. “The word is not familiar to you, certainly. It’s an Earth expression.” He nodded at his then. “We are from Earth. I’m Captain Williams. We’ve landed on Mars within the hour. Here we are, the Second Expedition! There was a First Expedition, but we don’t know what happened to it. But here we are, anyway. And you are the first Martian we’ve met!”

“Martian?” Her eyebrows went up.

“What I mean to say is, you live on the fourth planet from the sun. Correct?”

“Elementary,” she snapped, eyeing them.

“And we” — he pressed his chubby pink hand to his chest — “we are from Earth. Right, men?”

“Right, sir!” A chorus.

“This is the planet Tyrr,” she said, “if you want to use the proper name.”

“Tyrr, Tyrr.” The captain laughed exhaustedly. “What a fine name! But, my good woman, how is it you speak such perfect English?”

“I’m not speaking, I’m thinking,” she said. “Telepathy! Good day!” And she slammed the door.

A moment later there was that dreadful man knocking again.

She whipped the door open. “What now?” she wondered.

The man was still there, trying to smile, looking bewildered. He put out his hands. “I don’t think you understand — ”

“What?” she snapped.

The man gazed at her in surprise. “We’re from Earth!”

“I haven’t time,” she said. “I’ve a lot of cooking today and there’s cleaning and sewing and all. You evidently wish to see Mr. Ttt; he’s upstairs in his study.”

“Yes,” said the Earth Man confusedly, blinking. “By all means, let us see Mr. Ttt.”

“He’s busy.” She slammed the door again.

This time the knock on the door was most impertinently loud.

“See here!” cried the man when the door was thrust open again. He jumped in as if to surprise her. “This is no way to treat visitors!”

“All over my clean floor!” she cried. “Mud! Get out! If you come in my house, wash your boots first.”

The man looked in dismay at his muddy boots, “This,” he said, “is no time for trivialities. I think,” he said, “we should be celebrating.” He looked at her for a long time, as if looking might make her understand.

“If you’ve made my crystal buns fall in the oven,” she exclaimed, “I’ll hit you with a piece of wood!” She peered into a little hot oven. She came back, red, steamy-faced. Her eyes were sharp yellow, her skin was soft brown, she was thin and quick as an insect. Her voice was metallic and sharp. “Wait here. I’ll see if I can let you have a moment with Mr. Ttt. What was your business?”

The man swore luridly, as if she’d hit his hand with a hammer. “Tell him we’re from Earth and it’s never been done before!”

“What hasn’t?” She put her brown hand up. “Never mind. I’ll be back.”

The sound of her feet fluttered through the stone house.

Outside, the immense blue Martian sky was hot and still as a warm deep sea water. The Martian desert lay broiling like a prehistoric mud pot, waves of heat rising and shimmering. There was a small rocket ship reclining upon a hilltop nearby. Large footprints came from the rocket to the door of this stone house.