Elegy, Page 2

large; and further, golden fields of wheat, each blown bya different breeze in a different direction.

  "I don't believe it," said Captain Webber. "It's a _park_--millions ofmiles away from where a park could possibly be."

  "Strange but familiar," said Lieutenant Peterson, picking up a rock.

  Captain Webber looked in all directions. "We were lost. Then we see acity where no city should be, on an asteroid not shown on any chart, andwe manage to land. And now we're in the middle of a place that belongsin history-records. We may be crazy; we may all be wandering around inspace and dreaming."

  The little man with the thin hair who had just stepped briskly from atreeclump said, "Well, well," and the men jumped.

  The little man smiled. "Aren't you a trifle late or early or something?"

  Captain Webber turned and his mouth dropped open.

  "I hadn't been expecting you, gentlemen, to be perfectly honest," thelittle man clucked, then: "Oh dear, see what you've done to Mr.Bellefont's park. I do hope you haven't hurt him--no, I see that he isall right."

  Captain Webber followed the direction of the man's eyes and perceived anold man with red hair seated at the base of a tree, apparently reading abook.

  "We are from Earth," said Captain Webber.

  "Yes, yes."

  "Let me explain: my name is Webber, these are my men."

  "Of course," said the little man.

  Mr. Chitterwick came closer, blinking. "Who is this that knows ourlanguage?" he asked.

  "Who--Greypoole, Mr. Greypoole. Didn't _they_ tell you?"

  "Then you are _also_ from Earth?"

  "Heavens yes! But now, let us go where we can chat more comfortably."Mr. Greypoole struck out down a small path past scorched trees andunderbrush. "You know, Captain, right after the last consignmentsomething happened to my calendar. Now, I'm competent at my job, but I'mno technician, no indeed: besides, no doubt you or one of your men canset the doodad right, eh? Here we are."

  They walked onto a wooden porch and through a door with a wire screen;Lieutenant Peterson first, then Captain Webber, Mr. Friden and the restof the crew. Mr. Greypoole followed.

  "You must forgive me--it's been a while. Take chairs, there, there. Now,what news of--home, shall I say?" The little man stared.

  Captain Webber shifted uncomfortably. He glanced around the room at thelace curtains, the needle-point tapestries and the lavender wallpaper.

  "Mr. Greypoole, I'd like to ask some questions."

  "Certainly, certainly. But first, this being an occasion--" the littleman stared at each man carefully, then shook his head "--ah, do you alllike wine? Good wine?"

  He ducked through a small door.

  Captain Webber exhaled and rose.

  "Now, don't start talking all at once," he whispered. "Anyone have anyideas? No? Then quick, scout around--Friden, you stay here; you others,see what you can find. I'm not sure I like the looks of this."

  The men left the room.

  * * * * *

  Mr. Chitterwick made his way along a hedgerow, feeling cautiously andmaintaining a delicate balance. When he came to a doorway he stopped,squinted and entered.

  The room was dark and quiet and odorous. Mr. Chitterwick groped a fewsteps, put out his hand and encountered what seemed to be raw flesh; heswiftly withdrew his hand. "Excuse," he said, then, "Oh!" as his facecame against a slab of moist red meat. "Oh my!"

  Mr. Chitterwick began to tremble and he blinked furiously, reaching outand finding flesh, cold and hard, unidentifiable.

  When he stepped upon the toe of a large man with a walrus mustache, hewheeled, located the sunlight and ran from the butcher shop....

  * * * * *

  The door of the temple opened with difficulty, which caused Mr. Miltonto breathe unnaturally. Then, once inside, he gasped.

  Row upon row of people, their fingers outstretched, lips open butimmobile and silent, their bodies prostrate on the floor. And upon astrange black altar, a tiny woman with silver hair and a long thyrsus inher right hand.

  Nothing stirred but the mosaic squares in the walls. The colors dancedhere; otherwise, everything was frozen, everything was solid.

  Even the air hung suspended, stationary.

  Mr. Milton left the temple....

  * * * * *

  There was a table and a woman on the table and people all around thewoman on the table. Mr. Goeblin did not go a great distance from thedoorway: he rubbed his eyes and stared.

  It was an operating room. There were all the instruments, some old, mostold, and the masked men and women with shining scissors and glisteningsaws in their hands. And up above, the students' aperture: filled seats,filled aisles.

  Mr. Goeblin put his other hand about the doorknob.

  A large man stood over the recumbent figure, his lusterless eyesregarding the crimson-puce incision, but he did not move. The nurses didnot move, or the students. No one moved, especially the smilingmiddle-aged woman on the table.

  Mr. Goeblin moved....

  * * * * *

  "Hello!" said Lieutenant Peterson, after he had searched through eightlong aisles of books, "Hello!"

  He pointed his gun menacingly.

  There were many books with many titles and they all had a fine grey dustabout them. Lieutenant Peterson paused to examine a bulky volume, whenhe happened to look above him.

  "Who are you?" he demanded.

  The mottled, angular man perched atop the ladder did not respond. Heclutched a book and looked at the book and not at Lieutenant Peterson.

  "Come down--I want to talk with you!"

  The man on the ladder did nothing unusual: he remained precisely as hehad been.

  Lieutenant Peterson climbed up the ladder, scowling; he reached the manand jabbed with a finger.

  Lieutenant Peterson looked into the eyes of the reading man anddescended hastily and did not say goodbye....

  * * * * *

  Mr. Greypoole reentered the living room with a tray of glasses. "This isapricot wine," he announced, distributing the glasses, "But--where arethe others? Out for a walk? Ah well, they can drink theirs later.Incidentally, Captain, how many Guests did you bring? Last time it wasonly twelve. Not an extraordinary shipment, either: they all preferredthe ordinary things. All but Mrs. Dominguez--dear me, she was worth thecarload herself. Wanted a zoo, can you imagine--a regular zoo, with herput right in the bird-house. Oh, they had a time putting that one up!"

  Mr. Greypoole chuckled and sipped at his drink.

  "It's people like Mrs. Dominguez who put the--the life?--into HappyGlades. Or do you find that disrespectful?"

  Captain Webber shook his head and tossed down his drink.

  Mr. Greypoole leaned back in his chair and crossed a leg. "Ah," hecontinued, "you have no idea how good this is. Once in a while it doesget lonely for me here--no man is an island, or how does it go? Why, Ican remember when Mr. Waldmeyer first told me of this idea. 'A graveresponsibility,' he said, 'a _grave_ responsibility.' Mr. Waldmeyer hasa keen sense of humor, needless to say."

  Captain Webber looked out the window. A small child on roller skatesstood still on the sidewalk. Mr. Greypoole laughed.

  "Finished your wine? Good. Explanations are in order, though firstperhaps you'd care to join me in a brief turn about the premises?"

  "Fine. Friden, you stay here and wait for the men." Captain Webberwinked a number of times and frowned briefly, then he and Mr. Greypoolewalked out onto the porch and down the steps.

  Mr. Friden drummed his fingers upon the arm of a chair, surveyed hisempty glass and hiccoughed softly.

  * * * * *

  "I do wish you'd landed your ship elsewhere, Captain. Mr. Bellefont wasquite particular and, as you can see, his park is hopelesslydisfigured."

  "We were given no choice, I'm afraid. The fuel was running out."

  "Indeed? W
ell then, that explains everything. A beautiful day, don't youfind, sir? Fortunately, with the exception of Professor Carling, all theGuests preferred good weather. Plenty of sunshine, they said, or crispevening. It helps."

  They walked toward a house of colored rocks.

  "Miss Daphne Trilling's," said Mr. Greypoole, gesturing. "They threw itup in a day, though it's solid enough."

  When they had passed an elderly woman on a bicycle, Captain Webberstopped walking.

  "Mr. Greypoole, we've _got_ to have a talk."

  Mr. Greypoole shrugged and pointed and they went into an office buildingwhich was crowded with motionless men, women and children.

  "Since I'm so mixed up myself," the captain said, "maybe I'd