The Worlds of Joe Shannon, Page 2

dream up,let's say. All you have to do is step into the _Paradise_ booth, puton the cap, visualize the kind of world you want to live in so itshows on the screen, and off you go!"

  "You're kidding," I says feebly. "You don't really mean it."

  He taps me on the chest with his finger and says: "Yes, I do reallymean it, Harry. I've tried it and it works!"

  And there I thought I had him. "If you went off to another world," Isays slyly, "just how did you get back?"

  "Built myself another machine," he says promptly.

  I snapped the trap shut. "Just picked this world out of all themillions there are? Just like that."

  Joe grinned. "I just thought of the damnedest world that I could, andhere I was!"

  Well, he had me. There wasn't much more I could say. Joe's idea, ofcourse, was to build machines and put them on the street corners likeyou would newspaper stands. He figured that all the misfits and theunhappy people would sneak out and use them and _whisht_, off they'dfly to their own favorite world, leaving all us well-adjusted peoplebehind. He even had a slogan figured out. "_Paradise--for only aquarter!_"

  You see, he figured he'd have to charge a quarter not only to pay forthe machines but because people are just naturally suspicious ofanything they get for free....

  * * * * *

  Joe and Wally Claus rigged up three of the machines and installed themon some of the better known street corners around Fremont. Joe hadtrouble getting a license to do it, but when he told the city fatherswhat the machines did, they figured the best way to discourage acrackpot was to let him go ahead and flop on his own.

  And he came close to doing it. Those booths just sat on the streetcorners all summer and gathered dust. People called them Shannon'sfolly, which didn't help things with Marge any.

  And then one day, Barney Muhlenberg disappeared. We thought he mighthave gotten drunk and fallen in the river and we spent a good two daysdragging it. And then we looked in at his rooming house but we didn'tfind a thing except thirty-nine empty bottles and a rusty opener.

  It was Joe who first discovered what had happened. He got hold of meand we went down to the _Paradise_ booth on the corner just oppositefrom Schultz's Bar and Grill. There was a quarter in the coin till andwhen I looked at the screen, I knew Barney had taken off.

  Well, everybody's happy. Joe's glad that his machine has finallycaught on, Barney is probably happy playing Cowboys and Indians eventhough he's way too old for it, and the town is happy because itsworst sanitary problem has just eliminated itself.

  The news gets spread around and everybody starts laying odds on who'sgonna be the next to go. Nobody goes near the booths for about a week,and then the kids start passing around a rumor Saturday morning thatMiss Alice Markey has submitted her resignation to the school boardand is packing to leave town.

  The town splits. Half the people figure she'll be sensible and leaveby bus. The other half, myself included, station ourselves at the_Paradise_ booth that's nearest to her apartment. Along about noon,Miss Alice shows up. She's pale and determined looking, all dressed upto travel. Her suitcase is leaking little bits and ends of clothingand over her shoulder she's got a knapsack with her lunch in it.Always practical, Miss Alice was.

  "You aren't really thinking of leaving are you, Ma'm?" I ask, thinkingit would be a shame for a good-hearted, hard-working school teacherlike Miss Alice to leave Fremont.

  "I'll thank you to mind your own business, young man!" she sayscoldly, and marches into the booth and pulls the curtain shut. Amoment later I hear a coin drop, there's a flash of bright blue light,and then dead silence.

  I was the nearest one so I lifts the curtain and peeks in. Miss Aliceand her suitcase and knapsack have disappeared. I look at the screeneven though nobody needs to tell me that Miss Alice Markey has whiskedoff to a world where all the men look like Rudolph Valentino and havea fondness for old-maid school teachers. Sure enough, I was right....

  About mid-August, Joe comes around and he's looking mighty worried."Harry," he says, "Wally Claus has disappeared."

  I mull it over for a minute. "It can't be what you're thinking," Isays. "Wally's one of the most normal men in town."

  We go down to see Wally's wife and I begin to get the picture. Wallywas one of those hard working, hard drinking Dutchmen with a familyabout three times as big as his salary. He worked at Stellar Electricwith Joe and, like I say, sometimes he used to help Joe in his lab.

  "When was the last time you saw Wally?" Joe asks gently.

  Mrs. Wally is blubbering in her handkerchief and trying to hold a kidon her lap at the same time. Two more are hanging onto her chair, andabout six others are standing around the room sucking their thumbs andlooking wide-eyed at Joe and me.

  "It was p-payday," she blurts, the tears streaming down her fatcheeks. "Wally c-comes home drunk and all I do was quietly ask him forhis paycheck. And that's the last I see of him. I d-don't know w-whatgot into him!"

  Anybody with half an eye, I thought, could piece together what hadhappened. Wally probably had one or two at Schultz's bar and got tofeeling sorry for himself and then when he got home, he walked into ahornet's nest. Nine kids bawling or running around and Mrs. Wallynagging the life out of him. He must have wondered if it was worth it,then found a quarter in his pocket and walked around the corner to thenearest _Paradise_ booth. _Whisht_--and Wally's worries are a thing ofthe past.

  Joe and I get the idea at the same time and we chase down to thenearest booth. I took one look at the screen and blushed. Wally hadsome pretty wild ideas.

  On the way home, I tried to talk Joe into tearing the machines down."How do you know where it's going to end, Joe?" I argues. "You can'ttell who's well-adjusted and who isn't any more. And besides, some ofthose who ain't have contributed just as much to life as those whoare. Maybe even more."

  "I'm going to leave them up," Joe says grimly. "The world will bebetter off without a lot of neurotics running around."

  "You won't think it over, Joe?"

  "No," he says, "and to prove it, I'm going to spend the next two weeksin New York looking for backing to put up _Paradise_ booths all acrossthe country."

  "What does Marge think?" I ask.

  "Hang Marge!" he says.

  Well, I just stood there in the middle of the block and watched himget smaller and smaller in the distance. I couldn't think of anythingmore to say and he wouldn't have listened to me anyways.

  I packed and left town that same night. The strawberry season was justcoming on and I ain't never missed a harvest yet.

  * * * * *

  About two weeks passed and I couldn't stay away any longer. I got backto town, took a look around, and then went down to the station to waitfor Joe to come in on the flyer. I figured somebody ought to be thereto break it to him gently.

  He gets off the train looking happy and successful and I figure he'smade arrangements to put a _Paradise_ booth in every city, town, andcrossroads in the nation.

  "Why, hello, Harry," he says when he sees me, and gives me the oldprofessional smile and handshake that really ain't the old Joe at all."Any cabs around?"

  "No, there ain't no cabs around."

  Something in the way I says it makes him give me a sharp look. "Howcome? There's always a couple to meet the flyer."

  "There ain't none this time," I says. "No cab drivers."

  "No cab drivers?"

  "Ain't no need for 'em any more," I says. "Ain't no people in town touse cabs. Town's empty. Everybody's gone."

  He looks kinda green and says: "What do you mean, everybody's gone?"

  I shrugs and starts walking back to town. "Everybody took off," Isays. "Your _Paradise_ booths were real popular."

  He still looks blank so I give it to him straight. I had first thoughtabout it when Wally Claus disappeared. It occurs to me then thateverybody has times when they wish they could crawl out from under andquietly disappear. You see, Joe had assumed that some people wereadjusted to soc
iety and some weren't. Well, actually _nobody_ is, it'sjust a difference of degree.

  Once Wally took off, it sorta burst the dam. More and more peoplesneaked into the booths, dropped in a quarter, and _whisht_--they werea billion miles away.

  It was lonely and dark in town. No street lamps, of course. There wasnobody down at the power plant to work the switches. And there weren'tany lights in the houses 'cause there wasn't anybody around.

  "I can't imagine _everybody_ going," Joe says, biting his lip. "Whatabout all