GODS OF RIVERWORLD by Philip Jose Farmer

“Perhaps,” Burton said. “But for the time being she’ll be very grateful he rescued her from the dead.”

He was not in love with the Chinese woman. However, he did not consider love to be a prerequisite for a good bond between man and woman. He had certainly been in love with Alice, and look at what had happened to them.

“Come on over,” Burton said. “I’ll tell the Computer to let you in.”

Star Spoon quit weeping and snuffling and smiled like the sun at dawn.

“Just as soon as I repair my makeup and get my belongings together. You do want me, don’t you?”

“If I didn’t, I would say so,” Burton said.

He did not get to sleep until five in the morning.

24

Burton called the three women, in their room, and the two men, who had slept in separate rooms. After bidding them good morning, he told them that he had instructed the Computer to teach them how to operate it. He also invited them to the weekly meeting of the eight—more now—that evening.

“After that, you’re on your own. I will, however, call you now and then or even drop in on you, if I’m welcome. And you may call me if you have some problem.”

They did not like what he said. Apparently, they felt that he should devote all his time to making sure that they were adjusted. But they could do nothing about it.

He and Star Spoon had breakfast, eggs au beurre noir, blue-berry muffins, and figs with cream. They then flew to his little world, Theleme, named after the mythical state in Rabelais’ Gargantua and Pantagruel. Its motto was, in the old Frenchman’s work, Do What You Will. Burton’s motto was: Do What Burton Wills. The world might, however, have been better called Baghdad-in-the-Tower. Burton had had erected in its center a small town and castle that looked like a romanticist’s or Hollywood producer’s conception of a place out of The Thousand Nights and One. A river ran from the west end of the vast chamber, circled the city, and snaked eastward, disappearing in the sands of the desert not far from the entrance. Outside the city roamed several lions and leopards and many gazelles, antelopes, ostriches, and other desert creatures. Hippopotami and crocodiles swam in the river, and the patches of jungle were alive with monkeys, civet cats and birds.

As of the moment, Theleme was populated only by himself and Star Spoon. He planned to bring in some suitable people later, though he was in no hurry.

At 8:00 p.m., he and Star Spoon went to the party, though not without incident. The black motorcycle rider, this time with a black woman riding behind him, roared below them. The man waved a hand at them but his greeting was more courteous. “Hey, Burton, what’s happening?” A few seconds later, they traveled over a large pig trotting along, its hooves clicking.

“My God,” Burton said. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Star Spoon said. “I talked to Aphra this afternoon, and she said she’s running into people she never saw before. Most of them are from Tom Turpin’s world. At least, she thinks so, since they’re black. But she flew by a dozen people that looked like gypsies.”

“Gypsies? Who’d resurrect them?”

They entered Nur’s apartment, which was noisy with chatter and laughter. Alice was there, dressed in the 1920s flapper’s clothes that she liked so much. She smiled slightly at him but made no effort then or later to talk to him. He had expected to surprise everybody by showing up with the Chinese woman. Apparently, however, Li Po had told them about her. If he was jealous, he did not show it. He was realist enough to know that a display of it would not only be useless but also make him lose face. Besides, he was not suffering from lack of company or sex. He had by now resurrected forty men and forty-seven women, all of whom he had known on Earth. Seven of the women were his, one for each day of the week. Tonight, however, he had brought only one.

“They take turns going with me to these meetings,” he told Burton.