* * * * *
For as long as it takes to draw a startled breath there was silence;
then they all began to babble at once. Clo-Javel made herself heard
suddenly above the others. "I recognize it!" she cried in her ringing
husky voice.
"What?"
"It's an exact reproduction of New York II! I knew the city looked
familiar! I knew it!"
"New York II?" Saxon echoed. He was not strong in history and had only
a faint recollection of a city by that name having once occupied the
great Manhattan waste lands.
"Yes," Clo-Javel repeated. "It was the world capitol before Adirondaka
was built. I had to study it when I was doing the reconstruction of New
York I. There's a scale model of it in the Institute's museum. Isn't
that right, Rufus?"
The psycho-historian nodded in a bemused fashion.
"Yes," he agreed. "New York II was built over the ruins of New York I
which had been destroyed by the first atomic war. The second atomic war
completely annihilated New York II as well as all the other big cities
on Earth. Cities weren't built after that for almost five hundred
years. Not until the Empire, in fact." He paused uncertainly. "I don't
understand this."
Ileth asked, "You mean that this city is an exact reproduction of New
York II, Clo?"
The woman nodded, her black eyes curiously frightened. "This is the
amusement center. The yellow building housed the Tri-World Theatre."
"But I don't understand...." Ileth gazed helplessly at Saxon. "What
is a reproduction of New York II doing here on a planet in the Alpha
Centaurian system? We're over four light years from Sol. No one's ever
been here before."
Saxon was conscious of bewilderment and fear muddling the girl's
thoughts. His own mind couldn't quite grasp the fact that here was an
exact replica of a Terran city. It was inexplicable. It didn't make
sense. And, more than that, it was impossible!
He could read the same thoughts struggling against the fact in the
minds of the others. He said, "Let's see what the buildings are like
inside."
"Yes," agreed Ileth. She had edged close to Saxon. "Maybe we can find
the answer inside."
They started for the impressive entrance of the Tri-World Theatre,
halted again in near-panic as the doors swung wide.
Ileth gasped, clutched at Saxon's arm, hanging onto it in desperation.
Before any of them could say anything, a voice blared forth. "... a
thousand Ganymedian natives in the primitive ritualistic orgy of that
Weird little satellite. Hamura in the mating dance of the Ganymedians.
Seats: three hundred and seventy-five dollars."
Clo-Javel's voice had lost its rich huskiness. It was a frightened
quaver when she said, "It's a working model. Automatic, don't you see?"
She giggled nervously, and paused.
"But the voice?" protested Ileth.
"Advertising," explained the archaeologist. "It's a mechanical voice,
like the doors."
"Well, I'm not sure how much a dollar was," said Mercedes, "but three
hundred and seventy-five for a seat seems rather exorbitant."
Rufus, the psycho-historian, was pale as a corpse. He swallowed,
managed to splutter, "Inflation that followed the first atomic war.
Inflation...." His voice trailed off as he stared beyond the gaping
doors into the foyer of the empty theatre.
"Well, I'm not going in that place!" said the ethnologist suddenly. He
was a goat-bearded little dandy. It was his first speech in some time.