“Here we go,” he said. He threw the control and the Machine began to operate. Labyrinth folded his arms and we waited. Outside the night came on, shutting out the light, squeezing it out of existence. At last an indicator on the face of the Machine blinked red. The Doc turned the control to OFF and we stood in silence, neither of us wanting to be the one who opened it.
“Well?” I said finally. “Which one of us is going to look?”
Labyrinth stirred. He pushed the slot-piece aside and reached into the Machine. His fingers came out grasping a slim sheet, a score of music. He handed it to me. “This is the result,” he said. “We can go upstairs and play it.”
We went back up to the music room. Labyrinth sat down before the grand piano and I passed him back the score. He opened it and studied it for a moment, his face blank, without expression. Then he began to play.
I listened to the music. It was hideous. I have never heard anything like it. It was distorted, diabolical, without sense or meaning, except, perhaps, an alien, disconcerting meaning that should never have been there. I could believe only with the greatest effort that it had once been a Bach Fugue, part of a most orderly and respected work.
“That settles it,” Labyrinth said. He stood up, took the score in his hands, and tore it to shreds.
As we made our way down the path to my car I said, “I guess the struggle for survival is a force bigger than any human ethos. It makes our precious morals and manners look a little thin.”
Labyrinth agreed. “Perhaps nothing can be done, then, to save those manners and morals.”
“Only time will tell,” I said. “Even though this method failed, some other may work; something that we can’t foresee or predict now may come along, some day.”
I said good night and got into my car. It was pitch dark; night had fallen completely. I switched on my headlights and moved off down the road, driving into the utter darkness. There were no other cars in sight anywhere. I was alone, and very cold.
At the corner I stopped, slowing down to change gears. Something moved suddenly at the curb, something by the base of a huge sycamore tree, in the darkness. I peered out, trying to see what it was.
At the base of the sycamore tree a huge dun-colored beetle was building something, putting a bit of mud into place on a strange, awkward structure. I watched the beetle for a time, puzzled and curious, until at last it noticed me and stopped. The beetle turned abruptly and entered its building, snapping the door firmly shut behind it.
I drove away.
Expendable
The man came out on the front porch and examined the day. Bright and cold — with dew on the lawns. He buttoned his coat and put his hands in his pockets.
As the man started down the steps the two caterpillars waiting by the mailbox twitched with interest.
“There he goes,” the first one said. “Send in your report.”
As the other began to rotate his vanes the man stopped, turning quickly.
“I heard that,” he said. He brought his foot down against the wall, scraping the caterpillars off, onto the concrete. He crushed them.
Then he hurried down the path to the sidewalk. As he walked he looked around him. In the cherry tree a bird was hopping, pecking bright-eyed at the cherries. The man studied him. All right? Or– The bird flew off. Birds all right. No harm from them.
He went on. At the corner he brushed against a spider web, crossed from the bushes to the telephone pole. His heart pounded. He tore away, batting the air. As he went on he glanced over his shoulder. The spider was coming slowly down the bush, feeling out the damage to his web.
Hard to tell about spiders. Difficult to figure out. More facts needed — No contact, yet.
He waited at the bus stop, stomping his feet to keep them warm.
The bus came and he boarded it, feeling a sudden pleasure as he took his seat with all the warm, silent people, staring indifferently ahead. A vague flow of security poured through him.
He grinned, and relaxed, the first time in days.
The bus went down the street.
Tirmus waved his antennae excitedly.
“Vote, then, if you want.” He hurried past them, up onto the mound. “But let me say what I said yesterday, before you start.”
“We already know it all,” Lala said impatiently. “Let’s get moving. We have the plans worked out. What’s holding us up?”
“More reason for me to speak.” Tirmus gazed around at the assembled gods. “The entire Hill is ready to march against the giant in question. Why? We know he can’t communicate to his fellows — It’s out of the question. The type of vibration, the language they use, makes it impossible to convey such ideas as he holds about us, about our –”
“Nonsense.” Lala stepped up. “Giants communicate well enough.”
“There is no record of a giant having made known information about us!”
The army moved restlessly.
“Go ahead,” Tirmus said. “But it’s a waste of effort. He’s harmless — cut off. Why take all the time and –”
“Harmless?” Lala stared at him. “Don’t you understand? He knows!”
Tirmus walked away from the mound. “I’m against unnecessary violence. We should save our strength. Someday we’ll need it.”
The vote was taken. As expected, the army was in favor of moving against the giant. Tirmus sighed and began stroking out the plans on the ground.
“This is the location that he takes. He can be expected to appear there at period-end. Now, as I see the situation –”
He went on, laying out the plans in the soft soil.
One of the gods leaned toward another, antennae touching. “This giant. He doesn’t stand a chance. In a way, I feel sorry for him. How’d he happen to butt in?”
“Accident.” The other grinned. “You know, the way they do, barging around.”
“It’s too bad for him, though.”
It was nightfall. The street was dark and deserted. Along the sidewalk the man came, newspaper under his arm. He walked quickly, glancing around him. He skirted around the big tree growing by the curb and leaped agilely into the street. He crossed the street and gained the opposite side. As he turned the corner he entered the web, sewn from bush to telephone pole. Automatically he fought it, brushing it off him. As the strands broke a thin humming came to him, metallic and wiry.
“. . .wait!”
He paused.
“. . .careful. . . inside. . . wait. . .”
His jaw set. The last strands broke in his hands and he walked on. Behind him the spider moved in the fragment of his web, watching. The man looked back.
“Nuts to you,” he said. “I’m not taking any chances, standing there all tied up.”
He went on, along the sidewalk, to his path. He skipped up the path, avoiding the darkening bushes. On the porch he found his key, fitting it into the lock.
He paused. Inside? Better than outside, especially at night. Night a bad time. Too much movement under the bushes. Not good. He opened the door and stepped inside. The rug lay ahead of him, a pool of blackness. Across on the other side he made out the form of the lamp.
Four steps to the lamp. His foot came up. He stopped.
What did the spider say? Wait? He waited, listening. Silence.
He took his cigarette lighter and flicked it on.
The carpet of ants swelled toward him, rising up in a flood. He leaped aside, out onto the porch. The ants came rushing, hurrying, scratching across the floor in the half light.
The man jumped down to the ground and around the side of the house. When the first ants came flowing over the porch he was already spinning the faucet handle rapidly, gathering up the hose.
The burst of water lifted the ants up and scattered them, flinging them away. The man adjusted the nozzle, squinting through the mist. He advanced, turning the hard stream from side to side.
“God damn you,” he said, his teeth locked. “Waiting inside –”
He was frightened. Inside — never before! In the night cold sweat came out on his face. Inside. They had never got inside before. Maybe a moth or two, and flies, of course. But they were harmless, fluttery, noisy —
A carpet of ants!
Savagely, he sprayed them until they broke rank and fled into the lawn, into the bushes, under the house.
He sat down on the walk, holding the hose, trembling from head to foot.
They really meant it. Not an anger raid, annoyed, spasmodic; but planned, an attack, worked out. They had waited for him. One more step.