At the end of the evening, as Robin and his men returned to their temporary quarters, Robin found his thoughts wandering toward the River and what lay ahead once more. He knew it was time to leave, to continue his journey.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said at last, “that it’s time we were moving on. What say you, men?”
They all cheered mightily. The merry men had increased to thirty-eight during their stay in New Chicago: it seemed many were sick of the city and longed for freedom and the open road to adventure.
At dawn the next morning Robin and his men gathered at the gate to the city. Jules Verne and most of the people of New Chicago had come to see them off. There were more than a few sad farewells.
“Robin,” Little John said solemnly, “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll put it plainly.”
Robin turned. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I’ve decided to remain here,” Little John said.
Robin stared. “What?” he cried.
Abraham Lincoln took off his cap. “I’m sorry, Robin,” he said in his low, powerful voice. “I’ve been looking for my place in this world, and I think I’ve found it here. Jules Verne and his scientists need people like me. Their problems came from their system of government. They never planned for the common man. If their quest for
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scientific enlightenment had paid more attention to people instead of machines, Capone never could have taken over from them.”
“But what could you do?” Robin asked.
“I’ve already spoken to Mr. Verne. He has agreed to let me draft a constitution to govern this city and its people. Democracy must be kept alive, and New Chicago will be its headquarters. Do you understand now why I must stay?”
“I think I do,” Robin said solemnly. He put his hand on Lincoln’s shoulder. “I wish you all the best, my friend.” The two embraced briefly. “Good-bye, Abraham.”
“Good-bye, Robin.”
Robin swallowed, took a step back, and looked over the rest of his merry men. One of the newest additions, a tall, thin youth with straight black hair and a ready smile, stood at the back. “Little John,” Robin told him. “Henceforth you will be our new Little John.”
“Pardon, Monsieur Robin?” Little John said, looking confused. One of the other merry men translated for him, and a slow smile spread across his face as he understood. “Merci!” he cried. “Merci bien, Robin!”
Robin sighed mentally, but didn’t let it show. He’d work on it. After all, how bad could a Frenchman playing Little John be? It couldn’t be worse than the first Little John, who’d tried to introduce the merry men to something he called “the Ministry of Funny Walks.”
And so, his band stronger than ever, Robin Hood headed from New Chicago, continuing his quest for justice and King Richard the Lionhearted.
Unfinished Business
Robert Weinberg
“Company’s coming,” shouted Jim Bowie, spotting a shimmering in the air a few feet from where he stood. Along with nearly five hundred other citizens of New Athens, he was waiting by the town grailstone for lunch to appear. Translations, though fairly commonplace, always caused a ripple among the villagers when they took place. No one ever adjusted to people materializing out of thin air.
The crowd, equally divided between men and women all looking approximately twenty-five years old, hastily backed away from the huge stone mushroom. Barely five seconds after Bowie’s warning, a man’s nude and hairless body materialized next to the massive grailstone. Attached to his wrist was the ever-present lunch bucket, while close at hand appeared a half-dozen towels. As his form hardened into reality, the grailstone roared like thunder, blue fire streaking a score of feet up into the air.
“Luncheon is served,” announced Bill Mason cheerfully. Carefully circling around the unconscious newcomer, he
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scrambled onto the grailstone and retrieved his bucket. Opening it, he peered carefully inside. “Hey, Bowie, I got a bottle of bourbon. I’ll trade it to you for some of that chocolate you’ve been hoarding.”
The stranger momentarily forgotten, the villagers hurried to their grails. Bowie followed suit. There would be plenty of time to talk to the new arrival later. On Riverworld, there was always time. Lunch came first.
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