One Man's Poison, Page 2
Robert Sheckley
heard of Helg."
"I don't believe the planet has ever had any contact with Earth,"Hellman said. "This dictionary isn't Helg-English. It'sHelg-Aloombrigian."
Casker remembered that Aloombrigia was the home planet of a small,adventurous reptilian race, out near the center of the Galaxy.
"How come you can read Aloombrigian?" Casker asked.
"Oh, being a librarian isn't a completely useless profession," Hellmansaid modestly. "In my spare time--"
"Yeah. Now how about--"
"Do you know," Hellman said, "the Aloombrigians probably helped theHelgans leave their planet and find another. They sell services likethat. In which case, this building very likely is a food cache!"
"Suppose you start translating," Casker suggested wearily, "and maybefind us something to eat."
They opened boxes until they found a likely-looking substance.Laboriously, Hellman translated the symbols on it.
"Got it," he said. "It reads:--'USE SNIFFNERS--THE BETTER ABRASIVE.'"
"Doesn't sound edible," Casker said.
"I'm afraid not."
They found another, which read: VIGROOM! FILL ALL YOUR STOMACHS, ANDFILL THEM RIGHT!
"What kind of animals do you suppose these Helgans were?" Caskerasked.
Hellman shrugged his shoulders.
The next label took almost fifteen minutes to translate. It read:ARGOSEL MAKES YOUR THUDRA ALL TIZZY. CONTAINS THIRTY ARPS OF RAMSTATPULZ, FOR SHELL LUBRICATION.
"There must be _something_ here we can eat," Casker said with a noteof desperation.
"I hope so," Hellman replied.
* * * * *
At the end of two hours, they were no closer. They had translateddozens of titles and sniffed so many substances that their olfactorysenses had given up in disgust.
"Let's talk this over," Hellman said, sitting on a box marked:VORMITISH--GOOD AS IT SOUNDS!
"Sure," Casker said, sprawling out on the floor. "Talk."
"If we could deduce what kind of creatures inhabited this planet, we'dknow what kind of food they ate, and whether it's likely to be ediblefor us."
"All we do know is that they wrote a lot of lousy advertising copy."
Hellman ignored that. "What kind of intelligent beings would evolve ona planet that is all mountains?"
"Stupid ones!" Casker said.
That was no help. But Hellman found that he couldn't draw anyinferences from the mountains. It didn't tell him if the late Helgansate silicates or proteins or iodine-base foods or anything.
"Now look," Hellman said, "we'll have to work this out by purelogic--Are you listening to me?"
"Sure," Casker said.
"Okay. There's an old proverb that covers our situation perfectly:'One man's meat is another man's poison.'"
"Yeah," Casker said. He was positive his stomach had shrunk toapproximately the size of a marble.
"We can assume, first, that their meat is our meat."
Casker wrenched himself away from a vision of five juicy roast beefsdancing tantalizingly before him. "What if their meat is our _poison_?What then?"
"Then," Hellman said, "we will assume that their poison is our meat."
"And what happens if their meat _and_ their poison are our poison?"
"We starve."
"All right," Casker said, standing up. "Which assumption do we startwith?"
"Well, there's no sense in asking for trouble. This _is_ an oxygenplanet, if that means anything. Let's assume that we can eat somebasic food of theirs. If we can't we'll start on their poisons."
"If we live that long," Casker said.
Hellman began to translate labels. They discarded such brands asANDROGYNITES' DELIGHT AND VERBELL--FOR LONGER, CURLIER, MORE SENSITIVEANTENNAE, until they found a small gray box, about six inches by threeby three. It was called VALKORIN'S UNIVERSAL TASTE TREAT, FOR ALLDIGESTIVE CAPACITIES.
"This looks as good as any," Hellman said. He opened the box.
Casker leaned over and sniffed. "No odor."
* * * * *
Within the box they found a rectangular, rubbery red block. Itquivered slightly, like jelly.
"Bite into it," Casker said.
"Me?" Hellman asked. "Why not you?"
"You picked it."
"I prefer just looking at it," Hellman said with dignity. "I'm not toohungry."
"I'm not either," Casker said.
They sat on the floor and stared at the jellylike block. After tenminutes, Hellman yawned, leaned back and closed his eyes.
"All right, coward," Casker said bitterly. "I'll try it. Justremember, though, if I'm poisoned, you'll never get off this planet.You don't know how to pilot."
"Just take a little bite, then," Hellman advised.
Casker leaned over and stared at the block. Then he prodded it withhis thumb.
The rubbery red block giggled.
"Did you hear that?" Casker yelped, leaping back.
"I didn't hear anything," Hellman said, his hands shaking. "Go ahead."
Casker prodded the block again. It giggled louder, this time with adisgusting little simper.
"Okay," Casker said, "what do we try next?"
"Next? What's wrong with this?"
"I don't eat anything that giggles," Casker stated firmly.
"Now listen to me," Hellman said. "The creatures who manufactured thismight have been trying to create an esthetic sound as well as apleasant shape and color. That giggle is probably only for theamusement of the eater."
"Then bite into it yourself," Casker offered.
Hellman glared at him, but made no move toward the rubbery block.Finally he said, "Let's move it out of the way."
They pushed the block over to a corner. It lay there giggling softlyto itself.
"Now what?" Casker said.
Hellman looked around at the jumbled stacks of incomprehensible aliengoods. He noticed a door on either side of the room.
"Let's have a look in the other sections," he suggested.
Casker shrugged his shoulders apathetically.
Slowly they trudged to the door in the left wall. It was locked andHellman burned it open with the ship's burner.
It was a wedge-shaped room, piled with incomprehensible alien goods.
The hike back across the room seemed like miles, but they made it onlyslightly out of wind. Hellman blew out the lock and they looked in.
It was a wedge-shaped room, piled with incomprehensible alien goods.
"All the same," Casker said sadly, and closed the door.
"Evidently there's a series of these rooms going completely around thebuilding," Hellman said. "I wonder if we should explore them."
Casker calculated the distance around the building, compared it withhis remaining strength, and sat down heavily on a long gray object.
"Why bother?" he asked.
* * * * *
Hellman tried to collect his thoughts. Certainly he should be able tofind a key of some sort, a clue that would tell him what they couldeat. But where was it?
He examined the object Casker was sitting on. It was about the sizeand shape of a large coffin, with a shallow depression on top. It wasmade of a hard, corrugated substance.
"What do you suppose this is?" Hellman asked.
"Does it matter?"
Hellman glanced at the symbols painted on the side of the object, thenlooked them up in his dictionary.
"Fascinating," he murmured, after a while.
"Is it something to eat?" Casker asked, with a faint glimmering ofhope.
"No, You are sitting on something called THE MOROG CUSTOM SUPERTRANSPORT FOR THE DISCRIMINATING HELGAN WHO DESIRES THE BEST INVERTICAL TRANSPORTATION. It's a vehicle!"
"Oh," Casker said dully.
"This is important! Look at it! How does it work?"
Casker wearily climbed off the Morog Custom Super Transport and lookedit over carefully. He traced four almost invisible separations on itsfour
corners. "Retractable wheels, probably, but I don't see--"
Hellman read on. "It says to give it three amphus of high-gain Integorfuel, then a van of Tonder lubrication, and not to run it over threethousand Ruls for the first fifty mungus."
"Let's find something to eat," Casker said.
"Don't you see how important this is?" Hellman asked. "This couldsolve our problem. If we could deduce the alien logic inherent inconstructing this vehicle, we might know the Helgan
"I don't believe the planet has ever had any contact with Earth,"Hellman said. "This dictionary isn't Helg-English. It'sHelg-Aloombrigian."
Casker remembered that Aloombrigia was the home planet of a small,adventurous reptilian race, out near the center of the Galaxy.
"How come you can read Aloombrigian?" Casker asked.
"Oh, being a librarian isn't a completely useless profession," Hellmansaid modestly. "In my spare time--"
"Yeah. Now how about--"
"Do you know," Hellman said, "the Aloombrigians probably helped theHelgans leave their planet and find another. They sell services likethat. In which case, this building very likely is a food cache!"
"Suppose you start translating," Casker suggested wearily, "and maybefind us something to eat."
They opened boxes until they found a likely-looking substance.Laboriously, Hellman translated the symbols on it.
"Got it," he said. "It reads:--'USE SNIFFNERS--THE BETTER ABRASIVE.'"
"Doesn't sound edible," Casker said.
"I'm afraid not."
They found another, which read: VIGROOM! FILL ALL YOUR STOMACHS, ANDFILL THEM RIGHT!
"What kind of animals do you suppose these Helgans were?" Caskerasked.
Hellman shrugged his shoulders.
The next label took almost fifteen minutes to translate. It read:ARGOSEL MAKES YOUR THUDRA ALL TIZZY. CONTAINS THIRTY ARPS OF RAMSTATPULZ, FOR SHELL LUBRICATION.
"There must be _something_ here we can eat," Casker said with a noteof desperation.
"I hope so," Hellman replied.
* * * * *
At the end of two hours, they were no closer. They had translateddozens of titles and sniffed so many substances that their olfactorysenses had given up in disgust.
"Let's talk this over," Hellman said, sitting on a box marked:VORMITISH--GOOD AS IT SOUNDS!
"Sure," Casker said, sprawling out on the floor. "Talk."
"If we could deduce what kind of creatures inhabited this planet, we'dknow what kind of food they ate, and whether it's likely to be ediblefor us."
"All we do know is that they wrote a lot of lousy advertising copy."
Hellman ignored that. "What kind of intelligent beings would evolve ona planet that is all mountains?"
"Stupid ones!" Casker said.
That was no help. But Hellman found that he couldn't draw anyinferences from the mountains. It didn't tell him if the late Helgansate silicates or proteins or iodine-base foods or anything.
"Now look," Hellman said, "we'll have to work this out by purelogic--Are you listening to me?"
"Sure," Casker said.
"Okay. There's an old proverb that covers our situation perfectly:'One man's meat is another man's poison.'"
"Yeah," Casker said. He was positive his stomach had shrunk toapproximately the size of a marble.
"We can assume, first, that their meat is our meat."
Casker wrenched himself away from a vision of five juicy roast beefsdancing tantalizingly before him. "What if their meat is our _poison_?What then?"
"Then," Hellman said, "we will assume that their poison is our meat."
"And what happens if their meat _and_ their poison are our poison?"
"We starve."
"All right," Casker said, standing up. "Which assumption do we startwith?"
"Well, there's no sense in asking for trouble. This _is_ an oxygenplanet, if that means anything. Let's assume that we can eat somebasic food of theirs. If we can't we'll start on their poisons."
"If we live that long," Casker said.
Hellman began to translate labels. They discarded such brands asANDROGYNITES' DELIGHT AND VERBELL--FOR LONGER, CURLIER, MORE SENSITIVEANTENNAE, until they found a small gray box, about six inches by threeby three. It was called VALKORIN'S UNIVERSAL TASTE TREAT, FOR ALLDIGESTIVE CAPACITIES.
"This looks as good as any," Hellman said. He opened the box.
Casker leaned over and sniffed. "No odor."
* * * * *
Within the box they found a rectangular, rubbery red block. Itquivered slightly, like jelly.
"Bite into it," Casker said.
"Me?" Hellman asked. "Why not you?"
"You picked it."
"I prefer just looking at it," Hellman said with dignity. "I'm not toohungry."
"I'm not either," Casker said.
They sat on the floor and stared at the jellylike block. After tenminutes, Hellman yawned, leaned back and closed his eyes.
"All right, coward," Casker said bitterly. "I'll try it. Justremember, though, if I'm poisoned, you'll never get off this planet.You don't know how to pilot."
"Just take a little bite, then," Hellman advised.
Casker leaned over and stared at the block. Then he prodded it withhis thumb.
The rubbery red block giggled.
"Did you hear that?" Casker yelped, leaping back.
"I didn't hear anything," Hellman said, his hands shaking. "Go ahead."
Casker prodded the block again. It giggled louder, this time with adisgusting little simper.
"Okay," Casker said, "what do we try next?"
"Next? What's wrong with this?"
"I don't eat anything that giggles," Casker stated firmly.
"Now listen to me," Hellman said. "The creatures who manufactured thismight have been trying to create an esthetic sound as well as apleasant shape and color. That giggle is probably only for theamusement of the eater."
"Then bite into it yourself," Casker offered.
Hellman glared at him, but made no move toward the rubbery block.Finally he said, "Let's move it out of the way."
They pushed the block over to a corner. It lay there giggling softlyto itself.
"Now what?" Casker said.
Hellman looked around at the jumbled stacks of incomprehensible aliengoods. He noticed a door on either side of the room.
"Let's have a look in the other sections," he suggested.
Casker shrugged his shoulders apathetically.
Slowly they trudged to the door in the left wall. It was locked andHellman burned it open with the ship's burner.
It was a wedge-shaped room, piled with incomprehensible alien goods.
The hike back across the room seemed like miles, but they made it onlyslightly out of wind. Hellman blew out the lock and they looked in.
It was a wedge-shaped room, piled with incomprehensible alien goods.
"All the same," Casker said sadly, and closed the door.
"Evidently there's a series of these rooms going completely around thebuilding," Hellman said. "I wonder if we should explore them."
Casker calculated the distance around the building, compared it withhis remaining strength, and sat down heavily on a long gray object.
"Why bother?" he asked.
* * * * *
Hellman tried to collect his thoughts. Certainly he should be able tofind a key of some sort, a clue that would tell him what they couldeat. But where was it?
He examined the object Casker was sitting on. It was about the sizeand shape of a large coffin, with a shallow depression on top. It wasmade of a hard, corrugated substance.
"What do you suppose this is?" Hellman asked.
"Does it matter?"
Hellman glanced at the symbols painted on the side of the object, thenlooked them up in his dictionary.
"Fascinating," he murmured, after a while.
"Is it something to eat?" Casker asked, with a faint glimmering ofhope.
"No, You are sitting on something called THE MOROG CUSTOM SUPERTRANSPORT FOR THE DISCRIMINATING HELGAN WHO DESIRES THE BEST INVERTICAL TRANSPORTATION. It's a vehicle!"
"Oh," Casker said dully.
"This is important! Look at it! How does it work?"
Casker wearily climbed off the Morog Custom Super Transport and lookedit over carefully. He traced four almost invisible separations on itsfour
corners. "Retractable wheels, probably, but I don't see--"
Hellman read on. "It says to give it three amphus of high-gain Integorfuel, then a van of Tonder lubrication, and not to run it over threethousand Ruls for the first fifty mungus."
"Let's find something to eat," Casker said.
"Don't you see how important this is?" Hellman asked. "This couldsolve our problem. If we could deduce the alien logic inherent inconstructing this vehicle, we might know the Helgan
