been having to dight with. Isn’t that true? Just in the nature of things. Because you’re Marine.”
“Why— I guess it is. I never thought of it before like that.”
“But you can see it’s true now, when you think of it. Take that date you had with the man from Air. How could it be your fault that you couldn’t respond to him, somebody from Air} Why, it was his fault—it’s as plain as the nose on your face—his fault for being from a repulsive service like Air!”
Sonya was looking at the huxley with parted lips and shining eyes. “I never thought of it before,” she breathed. “But it’s true. You’re right. You’re wonderfully, wonderfully right!”
“Of course I am,” said the huxley smugly. “I was built to be right. Now, let’s consider this matter of your next date.”
“Yes, let’s.”
“You’ll go to the neutral area, as usual. You’ll be wearing your miniBAR won’t you?”
“Yes, of course. We always go in armed.”
“Good. You’ll go to the head and undress. You’ll give yourself your Watson. If it works—”
“It won’t. I’m almost sure of it.”
“Hear me out. As I was saying, if it works, you’ll dight. If it doesn’t you’ll be carrying your miniBAR.”
“Where?” asked Sonya, frowning.
“Behind your back. You want to give him a chance. But not too good a chance. If the Watson doesn’t work”—the huxley paused for dramatic effect—“get out your gun and shoot him. Shoot him through the heart. Leave him lying up against a bulkhead. Why should you go through a painful scene like the one you just described for the sake of a yuk from Air?”
“Yes— but—” Sonya had the manner of one who, while striving to be reasonable, is none too sure that reasonableness can be justified. “That wouldn’t reduce interservice tension effectively.”
“My dear young lady, why should interservice tension be reduced at the expense of Marine? Besides, you’ve got to take the big overall view. Whatever benefits Marine, benefits Defense.”
“Yes… That’s true… I think you’ve given me good advice.”
“Of course I have! One thing more. After you shoot him, leave a note with your name, sector, and identity number on it. You’re not ashamed of it.”
“No… No… But I just remembered. How can he give me the pig formula when he’s dead?”
“He’s just as likely to give it to you dead as when he was alive. Besides, think of the humiliation of it. You, Marine, having to lower yourself to wheedle a thing like that out of Air! Why, he ought to be proud, honored, to give the formula to you.”
“Yes, he ought.” Sonya’s lips tightened. “I won’t take any nonsense from him,” she said. “Even if the Watson works and I dight him, I’ll shoot him afterwards. Wouldn’t you?”
“Of course. Any girl with spirit would.”
Major Briggs glanced at her watch. “Twenty past! I’m overdue at the piggery right now. Thank you so much.” She beamed at him. “I’m going to take your advice.”
“I’m glad. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”
She walked out of the room, humming. “From the halls of Montezuma…”
Left alone, the huxley interchanged its eyes and nose absently a couple of times. It looked up at the ceiling speculatively, as if it wondered when the bombs from Air, Infantry, and Navy were going to come crashing down. It had had interviews with twelve young women so far, and it had given them all the same advice it had given Major Briggs. Even a huxley with a short in its chest might have foreseen that the final result of its counseling would be catastrophic for Marine.
It sat a little while longer, repeating to itself, “Poppoff, Poppoff. Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism, prunes and prism.”
Its short was sputtering loudly and cheerfully; it hunted around on the broadcast sound band until it found a program of atonal music that covered the noise successfully. Though its derangement had reached a point that was not far short of insanity, the huxley still retained a certain cunning.
Once more it repeated “Poppoff Poppoff,” to itself. Then it went to the door of its waiting room and called in its next client.
HORRER HOWCE
Dickson-Hawes’s face had turned a delicate pea-green. He closed the shutter on the opening very quickly indeed. Nonetheless, he said in nearly his usual voice, “I’m afraid it’s a trifle literary, Freeman. Reminds of that thing of Yeats’s—‘What monstrous beast, Its time come, uh, round again, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?’ But the people who go to a horror house for amusement aren’t literary, it wouldn’t affect them the way it did me.” He giggled nervously.
No answering emotion disturbed the normal sullenness of Freeman’s face. “I thought there was a nice feel to it,” he said obstinately. “I wouldn’t have put so much time in on this stuff unless I thought you’d be interested. Research is more my line. I could have made a lot more money working on one of the government projects.”
“You didn’t have much choice, did you?” Dickson-Hawes said pleasantly. ‘A political past is such a handicap, unless one’s willing to risk prosecution for perjury.”
“I’m as loyal as anybody! For the last five years—eight, ten—all I’ve wanted to do was make a little cash. The trouble is, I always have such rotten luck.”
“Um.” Dickson Hawes wiped his forehead unobtrusively. “Well, about your little effort. There are some nice touches, certainly. The idea of the monstrous womb, alone on the seashore, slowly swelling, and…” In the folds of his handkerchief he stifled a sort of cough. “No, I’m afraid it’s too poetic. I can’t use it, old chap.”
The two men moved away from the shuttered opening. Freeman said, “Then Spring Scene is the only one you’re taking?”
“Of those of yours I’ve seen. It’s horrid enough, but not too horrid. Haven’t you anything else?” Dickson- Hawes’s voice was eager, but eagerness seemed to be mixed with other things—reluctance, perhaps, and the fear of being afraid.
Freeman fingered his lower lip. “There’s the Well,” he said after a moment. “It needs a little more work done on it, but—I guess you could look at it.”
“I’d be delighted to,” Dickson Hawes agreed heartily. “I do hope you understand, old man, that there’s quite a lot of money involved in this.”
“Yeah. You’ve really got the capital lined up? Twice before, you were sure you had big money interested. But the deals always fell through. I got pretty tired of it.”
“This time it’s different. The money’s already in escrow, not to mention what I’m putting in myself. We intend a coast-to-coast network of horror houses in every gayway, playland, and amusement park.”
“Yeah. Well, come along.”
They went down the corridor to another door. Freeman unlocked it. “By the way,” he said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down. Some of the machinery in this stuffs—delicate. Sensitive.”
“By all means. Of course.”
They entered. To their right was an old brick house, not quite in ruins. To the left, a clump of blackish trees cut off the sky. Just in front of them was the moss-covered coping of an old stone well. The ground around the well was slick with moisture.
Dickson-Hawes sniffed appreciatively. “I must say you’ve paid wonderful attention to detail. It’s exactly like being out of doors. It even smells froggy and damp.”
“Thanks,” Freeman replied with a small, dour smile.
“What happens next?”
