The dog was watchful, keeping his distance and giving no sign of
recognition. Sam put his arm around his son's shoulder.
"Arkem, Arkem! Here, Arkem!"
The dog snarled.
* * * * *
There were tears in the boy's eyes. "He doesn't know his own name! He
doesn't even know his own name! Arkem!"
"It's no use, Mark, he's forgotten he ever had a name. I'm afraid you'd
better give up the idea of having him as a pet."
"But you _can't_ forget your own name!"
"You can in eight hundred years. Yes, Mark, that's when all this
happened, eight hundred years ago. That's why the language had to be
translated. Arkem is immortal. And during his long life he's forgotten
not only his name, but the master for whose sake he was marooned here.
If Julian Hagstrom were, by some miracle, to come back to life, I'm sure
the dog wouldn't remember him. All he has is a vague but strong tie to
that heap of stones. He no longer knows why he's protecting it. He's
been away from live human beings so long that his brain is little more
than a bundle of reflexes and instincts."
"I'll train him," said Mark. "Sometimes you forget a thing at first, but
it comes back to you later. He'll remember his name--here, Arkem!"
"It's no use," said Sam. "For eight hundred years he's been tied to that
heap of stones. He'll never remember anything except that fact. I'll get
you another dog for a pet."
"You mean we're going back to Mars or Earth?"
"Some place like that. Some place where there are people. Being alone in
space is no good for you."
"Oh, no, Pop, you can't get rid of me like that."
"I'm not trying to get rid of you," said Sam. "Being alone in space is
no good for me either. I'm going with you."
"Gee, are you sure? You won't change your mind?"
The delighted but uncertain look on his son's face shook Sam. He said
carefully, "I won't change my mind. I've decided that it's possible to
have too much of a good thing. If grief is a good thing."
Suddenly, for no reason that they could detect, the dog barked at them
and backed away, the fur rising in an angry ridge along his back.
"Couldn't we take him along anyway?" asked Mark. "I don't like to think
of him all alone here, year after year."
"He'll be miserable here, but he'd be more miserable away from his heap
of dirt and stones. Perhaps--" Mark didn't see as Sam pulled his gun,
then let it slip back into place. "No. That's none of my business. Maybe
he'll be fortunate and have an accident."
"What did you say, Pop?"
"Nothing much. Come along, Mark. We're heading for civilization."
An hour later, the ship rose into the air. Through the blasting of the
rockets, Sam thought--imagined, he decided, was a better word--that he
heard the long doleful whine of a creature whose mindless grief was
doomed to last for all eternity.
--WILLIAM MORRISON
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ February 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.