_Being a world unto one's self
is lonely. Even the poor amoeba
creature from Venus knew that...._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, April 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
She found herself floating again in that strange half-familiar world
of murky fluid where only she existed. The liquid was all around her,
pressing gently on all sides with a force that cushioned but did not
restrain. It was a pleasant sensation, a calming one; the cares of the
outside world were non-existent and therefore meaningless.
She drifted, unhampered by the fluid. There seemed to be no direction
but outward. Her thoughts went out and they returned with impressions.
This was her world and she was the center of it. It pleased her to
think this. It was an alien pleasure that was mental and without
physical counterpart.
There was quiet, stillness, a peace she had never known. The fluid
flowed about her like a great silent sea that held no sound, no
movement.
It seemed natural that she should be here.
She was content.
* * * * *
At the accustomed time, the autohypnotics in Miss Abby Martin's body
forced her to the threshold of consciousness and cleared her brain of
the fog of sleep. Slowly, she opened her eyes to the morning brightness
of her bedroom and stared at the vacant skylight and the blue expanse
of sky beyond it, not quite comprehending where she was. The cloudfoam
cushions of her bed gave credence to the floating sensation she had had
during her dream, and for a few seconds she lacked orientation.
Then her eyes wandered about the room, to the closed door of the
raybath stall, the retracted dressing table, the chronometer label that
told her it was March 14, 2123 at thirty seconds past 0700 hours. The
subtle intonation of her favorite music, Czerdon's "Maze of Crystal"
murmured softly from the walls.
Awareness came then, and she lay back on the bed and tried to follow
the intricate crystal melodies. But a frown ridged her brow, and she
wondered at the strange dream instead. She had found it pleasant
enough, for she rather enjoyed the languid floating sensation, the
feeling of being self-sufficient, a world unto herself. Yet the very
fact of the dream's existence in a world where such things were
manufactured disturbed her, for she had taken no dreampills the night
before, nor at any of the other times the dream had come. The incident
made her almost wish that witchdoctor psychiatrics had not been
outlawed twenty years ago, so she might get some inkling of the dream's
meaning; but psychiatrists had been pulled forcibly from the web of
society when mental derangements were put under the jurisdiction of the
Somaticists.
Overhead, a rocket thundered, shaking the house with a gentle hand,
and Abby turned her attention to the sound, momentarily forgetting
the dream. Through the one-way skylight, she saw a speck of light
accelerate beyond vision. She shook her head impatiently.
Rush, rush, rush--that was all people seemed to think about these days.
Go to the Moon, go to Mars, go to Venus. In time they might go to the
outer planets and perhaps even try to reach the stars. As though they
didn't have enough trouble right here on Earth! All they did, it
seemed, was hunt down poor beasts from the various planets and bring
them back to Earth to put in cages and tanks on display, ostensibly to
"learn more of the planets by studying their inhabitants." To Abby, it
seemed cruel and unnecessary.
Like that poor amoeba creature from Venus, she thought, remembering
the day last week when she and her niece Linda had visited the zoo
to see this latest acquisition. It was a creature captured from the
giant oceans of the second planet, a giant amoeba encased in a large
transparent tank of murky fluid for paying visitors to see. The
creature was supposed to be primitively telepathic, but it seemed
harmless enough. Abby found herself sympathizing with it, and it
seemed to her at the time that the creature felt this sympathy and
was grateful for it. For a brief moment she even had fancied that the
Venusian's mind had reached out to her, probing with gentle fingers of
thought.
She shook her head at that. Here in the calm clear light of day
diffused through the one-way skylight, the anthropomorphic notion was
ridiculous; and she mentally chided herself for contemplating such
things.
"I must be getting old," she told herself aloud.
In the next thought, she reminded herself that thirty-nine years was
not old at all, and in the thought that followed, scolded herself for
bothering to defend a statement so obviously rhetorical.
The chronometer ticked silently to 0701, and sighing, Abby rose from
the bed and slipped from the translucent one-piece pajamas to stand
nude in the center of the bedroom. At a sudden thought she glanced
quickly about the room, for she had the strange uncomfortable feeling
that someone was watching her. It was impossible, of course, but she
felt ill-at-ease just the same, and a blush of embarrassment stole over
her at the thought. The feeling of shameful nakedness persisted even in
the raybath stall, and it was a relief to dress and hurry downstairs,
routing the unaccountable ideas from her mind.
As usual, Gretchen had busily cleaned the house during the night,
silently raying germs and dirt out of existence, and had a warm
steaming breakfast-for-two ready by the time Abby had descended the
escalator to the dining room.
"Good morning, Gretchen," Abby said.
"Good morning, Ma'm," Gretchen's mechanical voice agreed tonelessly.
The robot-maid continued monotonously, "The day will be clear and
sunny, with a high of 79 degrees Fahrenheit by 1300 hours--"
"That will be all, Gretchen," Abby interrupted sternly, not interested
in facts of temperature and humidity given so mercilessly.
"Yes, Ma'm," Gretchen said obligingly. She turned and went to her
closet until she would be needed again.
Abby watched her disappear around a corner and frowned. Sometimes, she
thought, the mechanical age could be too mechanical. A simple good
morning--
"Good morning, Aunt Abby," Linda said, bounding into sight.
"Good morning, Linda," Abby replied, smiling at the girl's energy. It
reminded her of when she was seventeen. "Don't rush your breakfast,
dear, you've plenty of time to get to school."
"Yes, Aunt Abby," Linda said, rushing her breakfast. "We're going on a
field trip today," she volunteered between gulps of milk. "To the zoo
to see the amoebaman from Venus."
Abby smiled. "Amoeba_man_?" she questioned. "Couldn't it just as easily
be an amoeba_woman_?"
"Amoebas don't have sex differences," Linda said matter-of-factly. "We
just call it an amoebaman as a sort of classification because it seems
intelligent."
She finished her meal and dashed across the room. "See you later, Aunt
Abby." The door whirred open and shut.
* * * * *
Abby went to the window to watch her, sorry she had brought up the
subject of sex classification; yet the question had started out
harmlessly enough.... Waiting outside, a boy stood on an island among
moving metal sidewalks. Abby recognized him as one who had 'vised Linda
very often on questions of homework. At Linda's approach his eyes took
new life, and he laughed a greeting. Together, they stepped onto a
sidewalk and slowly wound from sight, their hands interlocked. Abby
shook her head disapprovingly; this would have to be discouraged. Linda
was much too young to have boyfriends. She shook her head. The younger
generation never seemed to move slowly--they rushed their lives away.
* * * * *
That afternoon, Abby sat at the broad one-way windows and watched the
cars and aircabs zooming overhead like frightened hornets. Suddenly,
she wondered where Dr. Gower was these days. Generally he televised her
once in a while or dropped in to chat occasionally, and it pleased her
that he did. He was her only male companion these days.
That's the way with men, she thought bitterly, nodding to herself, as
you grow old, they lose interest in you. Love cannot be founded on a
physical basis.
The thought of physical intimacy disturbed her, and she thrust it
aside. One thing was certain, above all else: she was determined to
protect Linda to the best of her ability, even as she had protected
herself.
"Thank goodness for Linda," she thought. "If it weren't for her...."
She let the thought hang uncontemplated, for she _did_ have Linda; and
she had no wish to dwell upon the memory of her brother's accidental
death in an aircab crash which had brought Linda into her custody.
She returned her attention to the world outside her window and found
nothing there to interest her. Restlessly, she played with the
button-controls on the chair's underarm, causing the walls to spring
into the simulated life of a three-dimensional telecast. A program
called "Old-Time Commercial" was in progress. Abby, like most people,
enjoyed this one, laughing at the exaggerated claims and the tuneless
melodies which had been foisted upon her ancestors during the years
before commercials had been outlawed, and she was disappointed to see
it fade for channel identification. It was followed by a program of
the latest fashions, some of which were much too brazen for Abby to
contemplate without squirming, so she changed stations again with a
flick of her forefinger beneath the armrest.
"... direct from the oceans of Venus," a man's voice announced
enthusiastically, and Abby found herself staring at the amoeba-like
creature she had seen a week earlier at the zoo.
"... believed to be directly related to our own Earth amoeba," the man
continued, "except, of course, this one is far from microscopic, being
larger than a man. For communication purposes, these Venusian creatures
seem to use a form of telepathy...."
Abby mused upon what Linda had said concerning the amoeba's sex, or
rather lack of it. She knew that the creatures reproduced by dividing
themselves, but she wondered if reproduction came instinctively or by
determination. Either way, the method was to be admired, she felt. It
was a pity humans were so complicated. An image stirred deep within
her, a fragment of some forgotten memory, but Abby did not notice it.
The creature from Venus moved restlessly across the three dimensional
screen, extending itself. It seemed to be regarding her with an intense
sort of curiosity, as though it were reaching out, enveloping her....
Sunlight spilling through the window, spread a warm languorous pool
about her, and she felt pleasantly drowsy. She closed her eyes. After
awhile, her head tilted, and the rushing world faded as though it had
never been.
She floated, placidly content. She seemed, suddenly, to possess a
million eyes that probed about in all directions at once. Her body
stretched, elongating itself, and moved forward through a translucent
fluid to an invisible wall, beyond which stood shadowy figures. She
focused her mind upon these figures, and they became clear.
There was a little boy gazing at her in awe, his nose pressed against
the glass in fascination, not certain if he should be frightened or
not. Mentally, she smiled to herself and directed her thoughts to the
boy, telling him not to be afraid. There were several children there,
and Abby turned her attention to another.
It was Linda! Linda staring with wide, curious eyes. And next to her a
man. Dr. Gower. Her heart leaped--
And she awoke with the warm sunlight streaming in upon her, her heart
pounding unaccountably. She looked around. She was still in her front
room before the windows. The television was going, presenting the
newscast that followed the zoo program.
It was just a dream, but it had seemed so real that it still disturbed
her minutes after she was fully awake. For awhile, she was not even
certain that the dream had not been real and that this now was not
really a dream, that reality and dreaming had not somehow suddenly
changed places.
* * * * *
Abby was still sitting at the window when Linda came home from school.
She watched as Linda and the boy came down the moving sidewalk and
stepped off on the island before the house. They stood talking for a
moment, then Linda rushed up the walk. The door whirred open and shut,
and Linda instead of looking for Abby as was her habit, went straight
to the escalator.