GODS OF RIVERWORLD by Philip Jose Farmer

He watched the dance floor for a while. The orchestra was playing some type of music he did not recognize. Frigate was walking by then, and Burton called him over. “What is that music, and what kind of gyrations are the dancers doing?”

“I don’t know the particular piece,” Frigate said. “It’s from the 1920s, sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. The dance is called the Black Bottom.”

“Why do they call it that?”

“I don’t know.”

Alice and Monteith seemed to be enjoying the wild motions. At last she had found a partner to share her love of dancing. Burton had never cared for it. In fact, he had only danced several times in his life, and that had been for the edification of a black African tribal chief.

The fat identical-twin schoolboys, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, walked by him. Neither had a drink on a tray. Burton said, “What…?” and at that moment the music stopped in the middle of a bar. He rose and stared at the stand. The musicians had put aside their instruments and were getting down off the bandstand.

“What’s going on?” Frigate said.

Alice was staring puzzledly at the departing musicians.

“Not planned for,” Burton said. A chill passed over his skin.

The little Frenchman, de Marbot, his blue eyes wide, trotted up to Burton. “Something is wrong,” he said.

Burton turned to take in three hundred and sixty degrees of vision. The androids were hastening to the woods, their pace increasing. All except the Mock Turtle, which had fallen on its back and was bawling and kicking its legs. No, not all were heading for the trees. A number were spreading toward the west end of the field, where the hill began. Among them were the Red and White Knights on their chargers, the Lion and the Unicorn, and the Gryphon. They stopped just before coming to the hill and turned around to face the field.

By then the other androids had disappeared into the shadows under the massive oaks.

Burton glanced at de Marbot’s scabbard and the hilt of the saber sticking from it.

“I daresay you may have to use your snickersnee, Marcelin,” he said. “How many … are all your Hussars armed?”

“Why, yes,” de Marbot said. “We have twelve sabers among us.”

“Tell them to draw them,” Burton said. “Listen, Marcelin, I think we’re going to be attacked. Somebody, I’m sure, has put in an overriding program in the androids. Alice didn’t plan this.”

He glanced around. Star Spoon must have had the same idea. She was running for the rollercoaster now. He looked at de Marbot.

“You have the most military experience,” he said. “You’re in command now.”

He turned and began yelling, “Everybody over here! Quick! On the double!”

Some of the crowd came running. Others stood still as if frozen; the rest ambled toward him.

Maglenna, pulling on Alice’s hand, ran up to Burton. “I say, what’s going on?”

“I am not sure.” Burton looked at Alice. “You don’t have the slightest idea?”

She shook her head. “No. Could the Snark be behind this? What can we do about it?”

“That’s up to Marcelin,” Burton said. “But I think we should make for the chairs. You and Monteith can sit on somebody’s lap. We can’t get through them—” he indicated the grim beasts guarding the west edge “—without serious loss.”

De Marbot was talking in rapid French to his friends. But he stopped and looked at the south edge of the field. The androids were coming out from the forest with weapons: spears, swords, maces, morning stars and daggers.

Burton swiveled to take in the north and east sides of the field. Androids were emerging from the shadows there; all were similarly armed. And those from the east side were hurrying to place themselves between the guests and their flying vehicles.

“Too late,” Burton said.

De Marbot was bawling orders out in Esperanto so that all would understand him. They began to form a ragged square with the Hussars on the eastern side. Burton called to him, “I’m going to get some weapons.”

“Where?” de Marbot said.

“The musical instruments. Some of them can be used as clubs.”