The Fabulous Riverboat by Phillip Jose Farmer

Clemens was in a blue funk for a while. But von Richthofen began talking of the necessity of ferrying the grails to the other side so they could eat in the morning. Presently Clemens got up and talked to Bloodaxe. The Norwegian was in a mood even fouler than usual, but he finally admitted that action must be taken. Joe Miller, the German, and a big redheaded Swede named Toke Kroksson trudged back up to the ship and then carried some oars back down. These three, with Clemens, took the grails across in the dugout; and Toke and Joe Miller paddled the dugout back. Miller, Clemens and von Richthofen settled down to sleep on top of a grailstone. It was clean, since the electrical discharge had burned off all the mud.

“We’ll have to get under the stone when the rains come,” Clemens said. He lay on his back, his hands under his head, and looked up at the night sky. It was no terrestrial sky, this blaze of twenty thousand stars greater than Venus in her glory and shimmering filaments tentacling out from glittering gas clouds. Some of the stars were so bright that they could be seen as pale phantoms even at noon.

“The meteorite must have smashed some of the grailstones on the west bank,” Sam Clemens said. “And so it broke the circuit. My God, what a circuit! There must be at least twenty million stones hooked together, if the calculations of some are correct.”

“There will be a terrible conflict raging up and down The River,” Lothar said. “The west bankers will attack the east bankers so they can charge their grails. What a war! There must be about thirty-five to thirty-seven billion people in this Rivervalley. All battling to the death for food.”

“The hell of it ith,” Joe Miller said, “that if half get kilt and tho there’th enough room on the grailstoneth, it von’t do no good. Tventy-four hourth later, the dead vill all be alive again, and it’ll all thtart over again.”

Sam said, “I’m not so sure. I think it’s been established that the stones have something to do with the resurrections. And if half of them are out of commission, there may be a considerable cut in production on the Lazarus line. This meteorite is a saboteur from the skies.”

“I’ve thought for a long time that this world, and our resurrection, are not the work of supernatural beings,” von Richthofen said. “Have you heard the wild tale that’s been going up and down The River? There’s a story that one man woke up before Resurrection Day and found himself in a very weird place. There were millions of bodies around him, floating in the air, nude men, women and children, their heads shaved, all slowly rotating under some invisible force. This man, an Englishman named Perkin, or Burton, some say, had died on Earth around 1890. He got loose but was intercepted by two beings—human—who put him back to sleep. Then, he awoke, like the rest of us, on the banks of The River.

“Whoever is behind all this isn’t infallible. They made a mistake with Burton. He got a glimpse into preResurrection, a stage somewhere between our death on Earth and preparation for life on this world. It sounds fantastic, like a wish-fulfillment story. But then again. . . .”

“I’ve heard it,” Sam Clemens said. He thought of telling about seeing Burton’s face through the telescope just before he spotted Livy’s. But the pain of thinking about her was too much for him.

He sat up and cursed and shook his fist at the stars and then began to weep. Joe Miller, squatting behind him, reached a gigantic hand out and touched him softly on the shoulder. Von Richthofen, embarrassed, looked the other way. Presently, he said, “I’ll be glad when our grails are charged. I’m itching for a smoke.”

Clemens laughed and dried his tears and said, “I don’t cry easily. But I’ve gotten over being ashamed about it when I do.

“It’s a sad world, just as sad, in most ways, as the old Earth. Yet we have our youthful bodies again, we don’t have to work for food or worry about paying bills, making our women pregnant, catching diseases. And if we’re killed we rise up the following day, whole and hearty, although thousands of miles from where we died.

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