‘And the intelligences? All humanoid?’ He hesitated. ‘Humanoid?’
‘Like us. Two arms, two legs, one head…’
‘Most humanoid,’ he said.’ ‘Most like you and me.’
The scrawny little being tugged excitedly at his vest. The being I had
been talking with turned around to face him, gave him close attention.
Then he turned back to me. ‘Him much upset,’ he told me. ‘Says all
people here are sick. Him prostrated with great pity. Never saw such
terrible thing.’
‘But that is wrong,’ I cried. ‘The sick ones are at home. This bunch
here is healthy.’
‘Can’t be so,’ said Mr Smith. ‘Him aghast at situation. Can look inside
of people, see everything that’s wrong. Says them that isn’t sick will be
sick in little time, says many have inactive sickness in them, others still
have garbage of ancient sicknesses still inside of them.’
‘He can fix us up?’
‘No fix. Repair complete, Make body good as new.’
Higgy had been edging closer and behind him several others. The rest of
the crowd still stayed up on the bank, out of all harm’s way. And now they
were beginning to buzz a little. At first they had been stricken silent, but
now the talk began.
‘Higgy,’ I said, ‘I’d like you to meet Mr Smith.’
‘Well, I’ll be darned,’ said Higgy. ‘They got names just the same as
ours.’
He stuck out his hand and after a moment of puzzlement, Mr Smith put
out his hand and the two men shook.
‘The other one,’ I said, ‘can’t talk. He’s a telepath.’
‘That’s too bad,’ said Higgy, full of sympathy. ‘Which one of them’s
the doctor?’
‘The little one,’ I told him, ‘and I don’t know if you can say he’s a
doctor. Seems that he repairs people, fixes them like new.’
‘Well,’ said Higgy, ‘that’s what a doctor’s supposed to do, but never
quite makes out.’
‘He says we’re all sick. He wants to fix us up.’
‘Well, that’s all right,’ said Higgy. ‘That’s what I call service. We
can set up a clinic down at the village hall.’
‘But there’s Doc and Floyd and all the others who are really sick.
That’s what he’s here for.’
‘Well, I tell you, Brad, we can take him to them first and he can get
them cured, then we’ll set up the clinic. The rest of us might just as well
get in on it as long as he is here.’
‘If,’ said Mr Smith, ‘you but merge with the rest of us, you can
command the services of such as he whenever you have need.’
‘What’s this merger?’ Higgy asked of me.
‘He means if we let the aliens in and join the other worlds that the
Flowers have linked.’
‘Well, now,’ said Higgy, ‘that makes a lot of sense. I don’t suppose
there’ll be any charges for his services.’
‘Charges?’ asked Mr Smith.
‘Yeah,’ said Higgy. ‘Pay. Fees. Money.’
‘Those be terms,’ said Mr Smith, ‘that ring no bell for me. But we must
proceed with swiftness, since my fellow creature has other rounds to make.
He and his colleagues have many worlds to cover.’
‘You mean that they are doctors to the other worlds?’ I asked.
‘You grasp my meaning clear.’
‘Since there isn’t any time to waste,’ said Higgy, ‘leave us be about
our business. Will you two come with me?’
‘With alacrity,’ cried Mr Smith, and the two of them followed Higgy as
he went up the slope and out toward the street. I followed slowly after them
and as I climbed the bank, Joe Evans came charging out of the back door of
my house.
‘Brad,’ he shouted, ‘there’s a call for you from the State Department.’
It was Newcombe on the phone.
‘I’m over here at Elmore,’ he told me in his cold, clipped voice, ‘and
we’ve given the Press a rundown on what you told us. But now they’re
clamouring to see you; they want to talk with you.’
‘It’s all right with me,’ I said. ‘If they’ll come out to the
barrier…’
‘It’s not all right with me,’ said Newcombe, sourly, ‘but the pressure
is terrific. I have to let them see you. I trust you’ll be discreet.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ I told him.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘There’s not much I can do about it. Two hours
from now. At the place we met.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I suppose it’ll be all right if I bring a friend along.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Newcombe. ‘And for the love of Christ be
careful!’
22
Mr Smith caught onto the idea of a Press conference with very little
trouble. I explained it to him as we walked toward the barrier where the
newsmen waited for us.
‘You say all these people are communicators,’ he said, making sure he
had it straight. ‘We say them something and they say other people.
Interpreters, like me.’
‘Well, something like that.’
‘But all your people talk the same. The mechanism told me one language
only.’
‘That was because the one language is all that you would need. But the
people of the Earth have many languages. Although that is not the reason for
newspapermen. You see, all the people can’t be here to listen to what we
have to say. ‘So these newsmen spread the news…’
‘News?’
‘The things that we have said. Or that other people have said. Things
that happen. No matter where anything may happen, there are newsmen there
and they spread the word. They keep the world informed.’
Mr Smith almost danced a jig. ‘How wonderful!’ he cried.
‘What’s so wonderful about it?’
‘Why, the ingenuity,’ said Mr Smith. ‘The thinking of it up. This way
one person talks to all the persons. Everybody knows about him. Everyone
hears what he has to talk.’
We reached the barrier and there was quite a crowd of newsmen jammed on
the strip of highway on the other side. Some of them were strung along the
barrier on either side of the road. As we walked up, the cameramen were
busy.
When we came up to the barrier, a lot of men started yelling at us, but
someone quickly shushed them, then one man spoke to us.
‘I’m Judson Barnes, of Associated Press,’ he said. ‘I suppose you’re
Carter.’
I told him that I was. ‘And this gentleman you have with you?’
‘His name is Smith,’ I said.
‘And,’ said someone else, ‘he’s just got home from a masquerade.’
‘No,’ I told them, ‘he’s a humanoid from one of the alternate worlds.
He is here to help with negotiations.’
‘Howdy, sirs,’ said Mr Smith, with massive friendliness.
Someone howled from the back: ‘We can’t hear back here.’
‘We have a microphone,’ said Barnes, ‘if you don’t mind.’
‘Toss it here,’ I told him.
He tossed it and I caught it. The cord trailed through the barrier. I
could see where the speakers had been set up to one side of the road.
‘And now,’ said Barnes, ‘perhaps we can begin. State filled us in, of
course, so we don’t need to go over all that you have told them. But there
are some questions. I’m sure there are a lot of questions.’
A dozen hands went up.
‘Just pick out one of them,’ said Barnes.
I made a motion toward a great, tall, scrawny man.
‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘Caleb Rivers, Kansas City Star. We
understand that you represent the – how do you say it? – people, perhaps,
the people of this other world. I wonder if you would outline your position
in somewhat more detail. Are you an official representative, or an
unofficial spokesman, or a sort of go-between? It’s not been made quite
clear.’
‘Very unofficial, I might say. You know about my father?’
‘Yes,’ said Rivers, ‘we’ve been told how he cared for the flowers be
found. But you’d agree, wouldn’t you, Mr Carter, that this is, to say the
least, a rather strange sort of qualification for your role?’
‘I have no qualifications at all,’ I told him. ‘I can tell you quite
frankly that the aliens probably picked one of the poorest representatives
they could have found. There are two things to consider. First, I was the
only human who seemed available – I was the only one who went back to visit
them. Secondly, and this is important, they don’t think, can’t think, in the
same manner that we do. What might make good sense to them may seem silly so
far as we are concerned. On the other hand, our most brilliant logic might
be gibberish to them.’
‘I see,’ said Rivers. ‘But despite your frankness in saying you’re not
qualified to serve, you still are serving. Would you tell us why?’
‘There’s nothing else I can do,’ I said. ‘The situation has gotten to a
point where there had to be an attempt at some sort of intelligent contact
between the aliens and ourselves. Otherwise, things might get out of hand.’