Hansel and Gretel

Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his two children. The boy was called Hansel and the girl Gretel. He had little to bite and to break, and once, when great dearth fell on the land, he could no longer procure even daily bread.



Now when he thought over this by night in his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety. He groaned and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How are we to feed our poor children, when we no longer have anything even for ourselves?"



"I'll tell you what, husband," answered the woman, "early tomorrow morning we will take the children out into the forest to where it is the thickest. There we will light a fire for them, and give each of them one more piece of bread, and then we will go to our work and leave them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be rid of them."



"No, wife," said the man, "I will not do that. How can I bear to leave my children alone in the forest? The wild animals would soon come and tear them to pieces." "Oh! you fool," said she, "then we must all four die of hunger, you may as well plane the planks for our coffins," and she left him no peace until he consented. "But I feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same," said the man. The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard what their step-mother had said to their father. Gretel wept bitter tears, and said to Hansel, "Now all is over with us."



"Be quiet, Gretel," said Hansel, "do not distress yourself, I will soon find a way to help us." And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his little coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The moon shone brightly, and the white pebbles which lay in front of the house glittered like real silver pennies. Hansel stooped and stuffed the little pocket of his coat with as many as he could get in. Then he went back and said to Gretel, "Be comforted, dear little sister, and sleep in peace, God will not forsake us," and he lay down again in his bed.
< 2 >

When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the woman came and awoke the two children, saying, "Get up, you sluggards. We are going into the forest to fetch wood." She gave each a little piece of bread, and said, "There is something for your dinner, but do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else." Gretel took the bread under her apron, as Hansel had the pebbles in his pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When they had walked a short time, Hansel stood still and peeped back at the house, and did so again and again. His father said, "Hansel, what are you looking at there and staying behind for? Pay attention, and do not forget how to use your legs." "Ah, father," said Hansel, "I am looking at my little white cat, which is sitting up on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me." The wife said, "Fool, that is not your little cat, that is the morning sun which is shining on the chimneys." Hansel, however, had not been looking back at the cat, but had been constantly throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his pocket on the road. When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, "Now, children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not be cold." Hansel and Gretel gathered brushwood together, as high as a little hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were burning very high, the woman said, "Now, children, lay yourselves down by the fire and rest, we will go into the forest and cut some wood. When we have done, we will come back and fetch you away." Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a little piece of bread, and as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe they believed that their father was near. It was not the axe, however, but a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which the wind was blowing backwards and forwards. And as they had been sitting such a long time, their eyes closed with fatigue, and they fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke, it was already dark night. Gretel began to cry and said, "How are we to get out of the forest now?"
< 3 > But Hansel comforted her and said, "Just wait a little, until the moon has risen, and then we will soon find the way." And when the full moon had risen, Hansel took his little sister by the hand, and followed the pebbles which shone like newly-coined silver pieces, and showed them the way. They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Gretel, she said, "You naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest? We thought you were never coming back at all." The father, however, rejoiced, for it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind alone. Not long afterwards, there was once more great dearth throughout the land, and the children heard their mother saying at night to their father: "Everything is eaten again, we have one half loaf left, and that is the end. The children must go, we will take them farther into the wood, so that they will not find their way out again. There is no other means of saving ourselves." The man's heart was heavy, and he thought, "It would be better for you to share the last mouthful with your children." The woman, however, would listen to nothing that he had to say, but scolded and reproached him. He who says a must say b, likewise, and as he had yielded the first time, he had to do so a second time also. The children, however, were still awake and had heard the conversation. When the old folks were asleep, Hansel again got up, and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles as he had done before, but the woman had locked the door, and Hansel could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his little sister, and said, "Do not cry, Gretel, go to sleep quietly, the good God will help us." Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of their beds. Their piece of bread was given to them, but it was still smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Hansel crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel on the ground.
< 4 > "Hansel, why do you stop and look round?" Said the father. "Go on." "I am looking back at my little pigeon which is sitting on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me, answered Hansel. "Fool." Said the woman, "That is not your little pigeon, that is the morning sun that is shining on the chimney." Hansel, however, little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path. The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again made, and the mother said, "Just sit there, you children, and when you are tired you may sleep a little. We are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening when we are done, we will come and fetch you away." When it was noon, Gretel shared her piece of bread with Hansel, who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep and evening passed, but no one came to the poor children. They did not awake until it was dark night, and Hansel comforted his little sister and said, "Just wait, Gretel, until the moon rises, and then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about, they will show us our way home again." When the moon came they set out, but they found no crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in the woods and fields had picked them all up. Hansel said to Gretel, "We shall soon find the way." But they did not find it. They walked the whole night and all the next day too from morning till evening, but they did not get out of the forest, and were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but two or three berries, which grew on the ground. And as they were so weary that their legs would carry them no longer, they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep. It was now three mornings since they had left their father's house. They began to walk again, but they always came deeper into the forest, and if help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and weariness. When it was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still and listened to it. And when its song was over, it spread its wings and flew away before them, and they followed it until they reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted. And when they approached the little house they saw that it was built of bread and covered with cakes, but that the windows were of clear sugar.
< 5 > "We will set to work on that," said Hansel, "and have a good meal. I will eat a bit of the roof, and you Gretel, can eat some of the window, it will taste sweet." Hansel reached up above, and broke off a little of the roof to try how it tasted, and Gretel leant against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then a soft voice cried from the parlor - "Nibble, nibble, gnaw who is nibbling at my little house?" The children answered - "The wind, the wind, the heaven-born wind," and went on eating without disturbing themselves. Hansel, who liked the taste of the roof, tore down a great piece of it, and Gretel pushed out the whole of one round window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it. Suddenly the door opened, and a woman as old as the hills, who supported herself on crutches, came creeping out. Hansel and Gretel were so terribly frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and said, "Oh, you dear children, who has brought you here? Do come in, and stay with me. No harm shall happen to you." She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little house. Then good food was set before them, milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterwards two pretty little beds were covered with clean white linen, and Hansel and Gretel lay down in them, and thought they were in heaven. The old woman had only pretended to be so kind. She was in reality a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the little house of bread in order to entice them there. When a child fell into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast day with her. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have a keen scent like the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw near. When Hansel and Gretel came into her neighborhood, she laughed with malice, and said mockingly, "I have them, they shall not escape me again." Early in the morning before the children were awake, she was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so pretty, with their plump and rosy cheeks, she muttered to herself, that will be a dainty mouthful.
< 6 > Then she seized Hansel with her shrivelled hand, carried him into a little stable, and locked him in behind a grated door. Scream as he might, it would not help him. Then she went to Gretel, shook her till she awoke, and cried, "Get up, lazy thing, fetch some water, and cook something good for your brother, he is in the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I will eat him." Gretel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain, for she was forced to do what the wicked witch commanded. And now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Gretel got nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little stable, and cried, "Hansel, stretch out your finger that I may feel if you will soon be fat." Hansel, however, stretched out a little bone to her, and the old woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and thought it was Hansel's finger, and was astonished that there was no way of fattening him. When four weeks had gone by, and Hansel still remained thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any longer. "Now, then, Gretel," she cried to the girl, "stir yourself, and bring some water. Let Hansel be fat or lean, to-morrow I will kill him, and cook him." Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she had to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down her cheeks. "Dear God, do help us," she cried. "If the wild beasts in the forest had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together." "Just keep your noise to yourself," said the old woman, "it won't help you at all." Early in the morning, Gretel had to go out and hang up the cauldron with the water, and light the fire. "We will bake first," said the old woman, "I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She pushed poor Gretel out to the oven, from which flames of fire were already darting. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it properly heated, so that we can put the bread in." And once Gretel was inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in it, and then she would eat her, too.
< 7 > But Gretel saw what she had in mind, and said, "I do not know how I am to do it. How do I get in?" "Silly goose," said the old woman, "the door is big enough. Just look, I can get in myself." And she crept up and thrust her head into the oven. Then Gretel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt. Oh. Then she began to howl quite horribly, but Gretel ran away, and the godless witch was miserably burnt to death. Gretel, however, ran like lightning to Hansel, opened his little stable, and cried, "Hansel, we are saved. The old witch is dead." Then Hansel sprang like a bird from its cage when the door is opened. How they did rejoice and embrace each other, and dance about and kiss each other. And as they had no longer any need to fear her, they went into the witch's house, and in every corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels. "These are far better than pebbles." Said Hansel, and thrust into his pockets whatever could be got in. And Gretel said, "I, too, will take something home with me," and filled her pinafore full. "But now we must be off," said Hansel, "that we may get out of the witch's forest." When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great stretch of water. "We cannot cross," said Hansel, "I see no foot-plank, and no bridge. "And there is also no ferry," answered Gretel, "but a white duck is swimming there. If I ask her, she will help us over." Then she cried - "Little duck, little duck, dost thou see, Hansel and Gretel are waiting for thee. There's never a plank, or bridge in sight, take us across on thy back so white." The duck came to them, and Hansel seated himself on its back, and told his sister to sit by him. "No," replied Gretel, "that will be too heavy for the little duck. She shall take us across, one after the other." The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely across and had walked for a short time, the forest seemed to be more and more familiar to them, and at length they saw from afar their father's house. Then they began to run, rushed into the parlor, and threw themselves round their father's neck. The man had not known one happy hour since he had left the children in the forest. The woman, however, was dead. Gretel emptied her pinafore until pearls and precious stones ran about the room, and Hansel threw one handful after another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was at an end, and they lived together in perfect happiness.
< 8 > My tale is done, there runs a mouse, whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur cap out of it.

YOUNG GOODMAN BROWN

Nathaniel Hawthorne

Young Goodman Brown came forth at sunset, into the street of Salem village, but put his head back, after crossing the threshold, to exchange a parting kiss with his young wife. And Faith, as the wife was aptly named, thrust her own pretty head into the street, letting the wind play with the pink ribbons of her cap, while she called to Goodman Brown.
"Dearest heart," whispered she, softly and rather sadly, when her lips were close to his ear, "pr'ythee, put off your journey until sunrise, and sleep in your own bed tonight. A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts, that she's afeard of herself, sometimes. Pray, tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year!"

"My love and my Faith," replied young Goodman Brown, "of all nights in the year, this one night must I tarry away from thee. My journey, as thou callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done 'twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already, and we but three months married!"
"Then God bless you!" said Faith, with the pink ribbons, "and may you find all well, when you come back."
"Amen!" cried Goodman Brown. "Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee."
So they parted; and the young man pursued his way, until, being about to turn the corner by the meeting-house, he looked back and saw the head of Faith still peeping after him, with a melancholy air, in spite of her pink ribbons.
"Poor little Faith!" thought he, for his heart smote him. "What a wretch am I, to leave her on such an errand! She talks of dreams, too. Methought, as she spoke, there was trouble in her face, as if a dream had warned her what work is to be done tonight. But, no, no! 'twould kill her to think it. Well; she's a blessed angel on earth; and after this one night, I'll cling to her skirts and follow her to Heaven."

With this excellent resolve for the future, Goodman Brown felt himself justified in making more haste on his present evil purpose. He had taken a dreary road, darkened by all the gloomiest trees of the forest, which barely stood aside to let the narrow path creep through, and closed immediately behind. It was all as lonely as could be; and there is this peculiarity in such a solitude, that the traveller knows not who may be concealed by the innumerable trunks and the thick boughs overhead; so that, with lonely footsteps, he may yet be passing through an unseen multitude.
"There may be a devilish Indian behind every tree," said Goodman Brown to himself; and he glanced fearfully behind him, as he added, "What if the devil himself should be at my very elbow!"

His head being turned back, he passed a crook of the road, and looking forward again, beheld the figure of a man, in grave and decent attire, seated at the foot of an old tree. He arose, at Goodman Brown's approach, and walked onward, side by side with him.

"You are late, Goodman Brown," said he. "The clock of the Old South was striking, as I came through Boston; and that is full fifteen minutes agone."

"Faith kept me back awhile," replied the young man, with a tremor in his voice, caused by the sudden appearance of his companion, though not wholly unexpected.

It was now deep dusk in the forest, and deepest in that part of it where these two were journeying. As nearly as could be discerned, the second traveller was about fifty years old, apparently in the same rank of life as Goodman Brown, and bearing a considerable resemblance to him, though perhaps more in expression than features. Still, they might have been taken for father and son. And yet, though the elder person was as simply clad as the younger, and as simple in manner too, he had an indescribable air of one who knew the world, and would not have felt abashed at the governor's dinner-table, or in King William's court, were it possible that his affairs should call him thither. But the only thing about him, that could be fixed upon as remarkable, was his staff, which bore the likeness of a great black snake, so curiously wrought, that it might almost be seen to twist and wriggle itself like a living serpent. This, of course, must have been an ocular deception, assisted by the uncertain light.

"Come, Goodman Brown!" cried his fellow-traveller, "this is a dull pace for the beginning of a journey. Take my staff, if you are so soon weary.

"Friend," said the other, exchanging his slow pace for a full stop, "having kept covenant by meeting thee here, it is my purpose now to return whence I came. I have scruples, touching the matter thou wot'st of."
"Sayest thou so?" replied he of the serpent, smiling apart. "Let us walk on, nevertheless, reasoning as we go, and if I convince thee not, thou shalt turn back. We are but a little way in the forest, yet."

"Too far, too far!" exclaimed the goodman, unconsciously resuming his walk. "My father never went into the woods on such an errand, nor his father before him. We have been a race of honest men and good Christians, since the days of the martyrs. And shall I be the first of the name of Brown, that ever took this path and kept--"

"Such company, thou wouldst say," observed the elder person, interrupting his pause. "Well said, Goodman Brown! I have been as well acquainted with your family as with ever a one among the Puritans; and that's no trifle to say. I helped your grandfather, the constable, when he lashed the Quaker woman so smartly through the streets of Salem. And it was I that brought your father a pitch-pine knot, kindled at my own hearth, to set fire to an Indian village, in King Philip's War. They were my good friends, both; and many a pleasant walk have we had along this path, and returned merrily after midnight. I would fain be friends with you, for their sake."

"If it be as thou sayest," replied Goodman Brown, "I marvel they never spoke of these matters. Or, verily, I marvel not, seeing that the least rumor of the sort would have driven them from New England. We are a people of prayer, and good works to boot, and abide no such wickedness."

"Wickedness or not," said the traveller with the twisted staff, have a very general acquaintance here in New England. The deacons of many a church have drunk the communion wine with me; the selectmen, of divers towns, make me their chairman; and a majority of the Great and General Court are firm supporters of my interest. The governor and I, too- but these are state-secrets."

"Can this be so!" cried Goodman Brown, with a stare of amazement at his undisturbed companion. "Howbeit, I have nothing to do with the governor and council; they have their own ways, and are no rule for a simple husbandman like me. But, were I to go on with thee, how should I meet the eye of that good old man, our minister, at Salem village? Oh, his voice would make me tremble, both Sabbath-day and lecture-day!"

Thus far, the elder traveller had listened with due gravity, but now burst into a fit of irrepressible mirth, shaking himself so violently that his snake-like staff actually seemed to wriggle in sympathy.
"Ha! ha! ha!" shouted he, again and again; then composing himself, "Well, go on, Goodman Brown, go on; but, prithee, don't kill me with laughing!"

"Well, then, to end the matter at once," said Goodman Brown, considerably nettled, "there is my wife, Faith. It would break her dear little heart; and I'd rather break my own!"

"Nay, if that be the case," answered the other, "e'en go thy ways, Goodman Brown. I would not, for twenty old women like the one hobbling before us, that Faith should come to any harm."
As he spoke, he pointed his staff at a female figure on the path, in whom Goodman Brown recognized a very pious and exemplary dame, who had taught him his catechism in youth, and was still his moral and spiritual adviser, jointly with the minister and Deacon Gookin.

"A marvel, truly, that Goody Cloyse should be so far in the wilderness, at night-fall!" said he. "But, with your leave, friend, I shall take a cut through the woods, until we have left this Christian woman behind. Being a stranger to you, she might ask whom I was consorting with, and whither I was going."

"Be it so," said his fellow-traveller. "Betake you to the woods, and let me keep the path."

Accordingly, the young man turned aside, but took care to watch his companion, who advanced softly along the road, until he had come within a staff's length of the old dame. She, meanwhile, was making the best of her way, with singular speed for so aged a woman, and mumbling some indistinct words, a prayer, doubtless, as she went. The traveller put forth his staff, and touched her withered neck with what seemed the serpent's tail.
"The devil!" screamed the pious old lady.

"Then Goody Cloyse knows her old friend?" observed the traveller, confronting her, and leaning on his writhing stick.
"Ah, forsooth, and is it your worship, indeed?" cried the good dame. "Yea, truly is it, and in the very image of my old gossip, Goodman Brown, the grandfather of the silly fellow that now is. But, would your worship believe it? my broomstick hath strangely disappeared, stolen, as I suspect, by that unhanged witch, Goody Cory, and that, too, when I was all anointed with the juice of smallage and cinque-foil and wolf's-bane"-

"Mingled with fine wheat and the fat of a new-born babe," said the shape of old Goodman Brown. "Ah, your worship knows the recipe," cried the old lady, cackling aloud. "So, as I was saying, being all ready for the meeting, and no horse to ride on, I made up my mind to foot it; for they tell me, there is a nice young man to be taken into communion tonight. But now your good worship will lend me your arm, and we shall be there in a twinkling."
"That can hardly be," answered her friend. "I may not spare you my arm, Goody Cloyse, but here is my staff, if you will."

So saying, he threw it down at her feet, where, perhaps, it assumed life, being one of the rods which its owner had formerly lent to Egyptian Magi. Of this fact, however, Goodman Brown could not take cognizance. He had cast up his eyes in astonishment, and looking down again, beheld neither Goody Cloyse nor the serpentine staff, but his fellow-traveller alone, who waited for him as calmly as if nothing had happened.
"That old woman taught me my catechism!" said the young man; and there was a world of meaning in this simple comment.

They continued to walk onward, while the elder traveller exhorted his companion to make good speed and persevere in the path, discoursing so aptly, that his arguments seemed rather to spring up in the bosom of his auditor, than to be suggested by himself. As they went, he plucked a branch of maple, to serve for a walking-stick, and began to strip it of the twigs and little boughs, which were wet with evening dew. The moment his fingers touched them, they became strangely withered and dried up, as with a week's sunshine. Thus the pair proceeded, at a good free pace, until suddenly, in a gloomy hollow of the road, Goodman Brown sat himself down on the stump of a tree, and refused to go any farther.

"Friend," said he, stubbornly, "my mind is made up. Not another step will I budge on this errand. What if a wretched old woman do choose to go to the devil, when I thought she was going to Heaven! Is that any reason why I should quit my dear Faith, and go after her?"

"You will think better of this by-and-by," said his acquaintance, composedly. "Sit here and rest yourself awhile; and when you feel like moving again, there is my staff to help you along." Without more words, he threw his companion the maple stick, and was as speedily out of sight as if he had vanished into the deepening gloom. The young man sat a few moments by the road-side, applauding himself greatly, and thinking with how clear a conscience he should meet the minister, in his morning-walk, nor shrink from the eye of good old Deacon Gookin. And what calm sleep would be his, that very night, which was to have been spent so wickedly, but purely and sweetly now, in the arms of Faith! Amidst these pleasant and praiseworthy meditations, Goodman Brown heard the tramp of horses along the road, and deemed it advisable to conceal himself within the verge of the forest, conscious of the guilty purpose that had brought him thither, though now so happily turned from it. On came the hoof-tramps and the voices of the riders, two grave old voices, conversing soberly as they drew near. These mingled sounds appeared to pass along the road, within a few yards of the young man's hiding-place; but owing, doubtless, to the depth of the gloom, at that particular spot, neither the travellers nor their steeds were visible. Though their figures brushed the small boughs by the way-side, it could not be seen that they intercepted, even for a moment, the faint gleam from the strip of bright sky, athwart which they must have passed. Goodman Brown alternately crouched and stood on tip-toe, pulling aside the branches, and thrusting forth his head as far as he durst, without discerning so much as a shadow. It vexed him the more, because he could have sworn, were such a thing possible, that he recognized the voices of the minister and Deacon Gookin, jogging along quietly, as they were wont to do, when bound to some ordination or ecclesiastical council. While yet within hearing, one of the riders stopped to pluck a switch. "Of the two, reverend Sir," said the voice like the deacon's, I had rather miss an ordination-dinner than tonight's meeting. They tell me that some of our community are to be here from Falmouth and beyond, and others from Connecticut and Rhode Island; besides several of the Indian powows, who, after their fashion, know almost as much deviltry as the best of us. Moreover, there is a goodly young woman to be taken into communion." "Mighty well, Deacon Gookin!" replied the solemn old tones of the minister. "Spur up, or we shall be late. Nothing can be done, you know, until I get on the ground." The hoofs clattered again, and the voices, talking so strangely in the empty air, passed on through the forest, where no church had ever been gathered, nor solitary Christian prayed. Whither, then, could these holy men be journeying, so deep into the heathen wilderness? Young Goodman Brown caught hold of a tree, for support, being ready to sink down on the ground, faint and overburthened with the heavy sickness of his heart. He looked up to the sky, doubting whether there really was a Heaven above him. Yet, there was the blue arch, and the stars brightening in it. "With Heaven above, and Faith below, I will yet stand firm against the devil!" cried Goodman Brown. While he still gazed upward, into the deep arch of the firmament, and had lifted his hands to pray, a cloud, though no wind was stirring, hurried across the zenith, and hid the brightening stars. The blue sky was still visible, except directly overhead, where this black mass of cloud was sweeping swiftly northward. Aloft in the air, as if from the depths of the cloud, came a confused and doubtful sound of voices. Once, the listener fancied that he could distinguish the accent of townspeople of his own, men and women, both pious and ungodly, many of whom he had met at the communion-table, and had seen others rioting at the tavern. The next moment, so indistinct were the sounds, he doubted whether he had heard aught but the murmur of the old forest, whispering without a wind. Then came a stronger swell of those familiar tones, heard daily in the sunshine, at Salem village, but never, until now, from a cloud of night. There was one voice, of a young woman, uttering lamentations, yet with an uncertain sorrow, and entreating for some favor, which, perhaps, it would grieve her to obtain. And all the unseen multitude, both saints and sinners, seemed to encourage her onward. "Faith!" shouted Goodman Brown, in a voice of agony and desperation; and the echoes of the forest mocked him, crying- "Faith! Faith!" as if bewildered wretches were seeking her, all through the wilderness. The cry of grief, rage, and terror, was yet piercing the night, when the unhappy husband held his breath for a response. There was a scream, drowned immediately in a louder murmur of voices, fading into far-off laughter, as the dark cloud swept away, leaving the clear and silent sky above Goodman Brown. But something fluttered lightly down through the air, and caught on the branch of a tree. The young man seized it, and beheld a pink ribbon. "My Faith is gone!" cried he, after one stupefied moment. "There is no good on earth; and sin is but a name. Come, devil! for to thee is this world given." And maddened with despair, so that he laughed loud and long, did Goodman Brown grasp his staff and set forth again, at such a rate, that he seemed to fly along the forest-path, rather than to walk or run. The road grew wilder and drearier, and more faintly traced, and vanished at length, leaving him in the heart of the dark wilderness, still rushing onward, with the instinct that guides mortal man to evil. The whole forest was peopled with frightful sounds; the creaking of the trees, the howling of wild beasts, and the yell of Indians; while, sometimes the wind tolled like a distant church-bell, and sometimes gave a broad roar around the traveller, as if all Nature were laughing him to scorn. But he was himself the chief horror of the scene, and shrank not from its other horrors. "Ha! ha! ha!" roared Goodman Brown, when the wind laughed at him. "Let us hear which will laugh loudest! Think not to frighten me with your deviltry! Come witch, come wizard, come Indian powow, come devil himself! and here comes Goodman Brown. You may as well fear him as he fear you!" In truth, all through the haunted forest, there could be nothing more frightful than the figure of Goodman Brown. On he flew, among the black pines, brandishing his staff with frenzied gestures, now giving vent to an inspiration of horrid blasphemy, and now shouting forth such laughter, as set all the echoes of the forest laughing like demons around him. The fiend in his own shape is less hideous, than when he rages in the breast of man. Thus sped the demoniac on his course, until, quivering among the trees, he saw a red light before him, as when the felled trunks and branches of a clearing have been set on fire, and throw up their lurid blaze against the sky, at the hour of midnight. He paused, in a lull of the tempest that had driven him onward, and heard the swell of what seemed a hymn, rolling solemnly from a distance, with the weight of many voices. He knew the tune; it was a familiar one in the choir of the village meetinghouse. The verse died heavily away, and was lengthened by a chorus, not of human voices, but of all the sounds of the benighted wilderness, pealing in awful harmony together. Goodman Brown cried out; and his cry was lost to his own ear, by its unison with the cry of the desert. In the interval of silence, he stole forward, until the light glared full upon his eyes. At one extremity of an open space, hemmed in by the dark wall of the forest, arose a rock, bearing some rude, natural resemblance either to an altar or a pulpit, and surrounded by four blazing pines, their tops aflame, their stems untouched, like candles at an evening meeting. The mass of foliage, that had overgrown the summit of the rock, was all on fire, blazing high into the night, and fitfully illuminating the whole field. Each pendant twig and leafy festoon was in a blaze. As the red light arose and fell, a numerous congregation alternately shone forth, then disappeared in shadow, and again grew, as it were, out of the darkness, peopling the heart of the solitary woods at once. "A grave and dark-clad company!" quoth Goodman Brown. In truth, they were such. Among them, quivering to and fro, between gloom and splendor, appeared faces that would be seen, next day, at the council-board of the province, and others which, Sabbath after Sabbath, looked devoutly heavenward, and benignantly over the crowded pews, from the holiest pulpits in the land. Some affirm, that the lady of the governor was there. At least, there were high dames well known to her, and wives of honored husbands, and widows, a great multitude, and ancient maidens, all of excellent repute, and fair young girls, who trembled lest their mothers should espy them. Either the sudden gleams of light, flashing over the obscure field, bedazzled Goodman Brown, or he recognized a score of the church-members of Salem village, famous for their especial sanctity. Good old Deacon Gookin had arrived, and waited at the skirts of that venerable saint, his reverend pastor. But, irreverently consorting with these grave, reputable, and pious people, these elders of the church, these chaste dames and dewy virgins, there were men of dissolute lives and women of spotted fame, wretches given over to all mean and filthy vice, and suspected even of horrid crimes. It was strange to see, that the good shrank not from the wicked, nor were the sinners abashed by the saints. Scattered, also, among their palefaced enemies, were the Indian priests, or powows, who had often scared their native forest with more hideous incantations than any known to English witchcraft. "But, where is Faith?" thought Goodman Brown; and, as hope came into his heart, he trembled. Another verse of the hymn arose, a slow and mournful strain, such as the pious love, but joined to words which expressed all that our nature can conceive of sin, and darkly hinted at far more. Unfathomable to mere mortals is the lore of fiends.

Verse after verse was sung, and still the chorus of the desert swelled between, like the deepest tone of a mighty organ. And, with the final peal of that dreadful anthem, there came a sound, as if the roaring wind, the rushing streams, the howling beasts, and every other voice of the unconverted wilderness, were mingling and according with the voice of guilty man, in homage to the prince of all. The four blazing pines threw up a loftier flame, and obscurely discovered shapes and visages of horror on the smoke-wreaths, above the impious assembly. At the same moment, the fire on the rock shot redly forth, and formed a glowing arch above its base, where now appeared a figure. With reverence be it spoken, the apparition bore no slight similitude, both in garb and manner, to some grave divine of the New England churches. "Bring forth the converts!" cried a voice, that echoed through the field and rolled into the forest. At the word, Goodman Brown stepped forth from the shadow of the trees, and approached the congregation, with whom he felt a loathful brotherhood, by the sympathy of all that was wicked in his heart. He could have well nigh sworn, that the shape of his own dead father beckoned him to advance, looking downward from a smoke-wreath, while a woman, with dim features of despair, threw out her hand to warn him back. Was it his mother? But he had no power to retreat one step, nor to resist, even in thought, when the minister and good old Deacon Gookin seized his arms, and led him to the blazing rock. Thither came also the slender form of a veiled female, led between Goody Cloyse, that pious teacher of the catechism, and Martha Carrier, who had received the devil's promise to be queen of hell. A rampant hag was she! And there stood the proselytes, beneath the canopy of fire. "Welcome, my children," said the dark figure, "to the communion of your race! Ye have found, thus young, your nature and your destiny. My children, look behind you!" They turned; and flashing forth, as it were, in a sheet of flame, the fiend-worshippers were seen; the smile of welcome gleamed darkly on every visage. "There," resumed the sable form, "are all whom ye have reverenced from youth. Ye deemed them holier than yourselves, and shrank from your own sin, contrasting it with their lives of righteousness, and prayerful aspirations heavenward. Yet, here are they all, in my worshipping assembly!

This night it shall be granted you to know their secret deeds; how hoary-bearded elders of the church have whispered wanton words to the young maids of their households; how many a woman, eager for widow's weeds, has given her husband a drink at bed-time, and let him sleep his last sleep in her bosom; how beardless youth have made haste to inherit their father's wealth; and how fair damsels- blush not, sweet ones- have dug little graves in the garden, and bidden me, the sole guest, to an infant's funeral. By the sympathy of your human hearts for sin, ye shall scent out all the places-whether in church, bed-chamber, street, field, or forest- where crime has been committed, and shall exult to behold the whole earth one stain of guilt, one mighty blood-spot. Far more than this! It shall be yours to penetrate, in every bosom, the deep mystery of sin, the fountain of all wicked arts, and which inexhaustibly supplies more evil impulses than human power- than my power at its utmost- can make manifest in deeds. And now, my children, look upon each other." They did so; and, by the blaze of the hell-kindled torches, the wretched man beheld his Faith, and the wife her husband, trembling before that unhallowed altar. "Lo! there ye stand, my children," said the figure, in a deep and solemn tone, almost sad, with its despairing awfulness, as if his once angelic nature could yet mourn for our miserable race. "Depending upon one another's hearts, ye had still hoped that virtue were not all a dream! Now are ye undeceived! Evil is the nature of mankind. Evil must be your only happiness. Welcome, again, my children, to the communion of your race!" "Welcome!" repeated the fiend-worshippers, in one cry of despair and triumph. And there they stood, the only pair, as it seemed, who were yet hesitating on the verge of wickedness, in this dark world.

A basin was hollowed, naturally, in the rock. Did it contain water, reddened by the lurid light? or was it blood? or, perchance, a liquid flame? Herein did the Shape of Evil dip his hand, and prepare to lay the mark of baptism upon their foreheads, that they might be partakers of the mystery of sin, more conscious of the secret guilt of others, both in deed and thought, than they could now be of their own. The husband cast one look at his pale wife, and Faith at him. What polluted wretches would the next glance show them to each other, shuddering alike at what they disclosed and what they saw! "Faith! Faith!" cried the husband. "Look up to Heaven, and resist the Wicked One!" Whether Faith obeyed, he knew not. Hardly had he spoken, when he found himself amid calm night and solitude, listening to a roar of the wind, which died heavily away through the forest. He staggered against the rock, and felt it chill and damp, while a hanging twig, that had been all on fire, besprinkled his cheek with the coldest dew. The next morning, young Goodman Brown came slowly into the street of Salem village, staring around him like a bewildered man. The good old minister was taking a walk along the graveyard, to get an appetite for breakfast and meditate his sermon, and bestowed a blessing, as he passed, on Goodman Brown. He shrank from the venerable saint, as if to avoid an anathema. Old Deacon Gookin was at domestic worship, and the holy words of his prayer were heard through the open window. "What God doth the wizard pray to?" quoth Goodman Brown. Goody Cloyse, that excellent old Christian, stood in the early sunshine, at her own lattice, catechising a little girl, who had brought her a pint of morning's milk. Goodman Brown snatched away the child, as from the grasp of the fiend himself.

Turning the corner by the meeting-house, he spied the head of Faith, with the pink ribbons, gazing anxiously forth, and bursting into such joy at sight of him, that she skipt along the street, and almost kissed her husband before the whole village. But Goodman Brown looked sternly and sadly into her face, and passed on without a greeting. Had Goodman Brown fallen asleep in the forest, and only dreamed a wild dream of a witch-meeting? Be it so, if you will. But, alas! it was a dream of evil omen for young Goodman Brown. A stern, a sad, a darkly meditative, a distrustful, if not a desperate man, did he become, from the night of that fearful dream. On the Sabbath-day, when the congregation were singing a holy psalm, he could not listen, because an anthem of sin rushed loudly upon his ear, and drowned all the blessed strain. When the minister spoke from the pulpit, with power and fervid eloquence, and with his hand on the open Bible, of the sacred truths of our religion, and of saint-like lives and triumphant deaths, and of future bliss or misery unutterable, then did Goodman Brown turn pale, dreading lest the roof should thunder down upon the gray blasphemer and his hearers. Often, awaking suddenly at midnight, he shrank from the bosom of Faith, and at morning or eventide, when the family knelt down at prayer, he scowled, and muttered to himself, and gazed sternly at his wife, and turned away. And when he had lived long, and was borne to his grave, a hoary corpse, followed by Faith, an aged woman, and children and grandchildren, a goodly procession, besides neighbors, not a few, they carved no hopeful verse upon his tombstone; for his dying hour was gloom.

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THE LOTTERY

SHIRLEY JACKSON

The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.
The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play. and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced this name "Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at the boys. and the very small children rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.
Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.
The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program--by Mr. Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was a scold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late today, folks." The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?" there was a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.
The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything's being done. The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.
Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.
There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There were the lists to make up--of heads of families. heads of households in each family. members of each household in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand resting carelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins.
Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. "Clean forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and they both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on. "and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, "You're in time, though. They're still talking away up there."
Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standing near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson," and "Bill, she made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said cheerfully. "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said. grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now, would you. Joe?," and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival.
"Well, now." Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with, so's we can go back to work. Anybody ain't here?"
"Dunbar." several people said. "Dunbar. Dunbar."
Mr. Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar." he said. "That's right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he? Who's drawing for him?"
"Me. I guess," a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her husband." Mr. Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar answered.
"Horace's not but sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year."
"Right." Sr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, "Watson boy drawing this year?"
A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I m drawing for my mother and me." He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like "Good fellow, lack." and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it."
"Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?"
"Here," a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded.
A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. "All ready?" he called. "Now, I'll read the names--heads of families first--and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything clear?"
The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions: most of them were quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said, "Adams." A man disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. "Hi. Steve." Mr. Summers said. and Mr. Adams said. "Hi. Joe." They grinned at one another humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went hastily back to his place in the crowd. where he stood a little apart from his family. not looking down at his hand.
"Allen." Mr. Summers said. "Anderson.... Bentham."
"Seems like there's no time at all between lotteries any more." Mrs. Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row.
"Seems like we got through with the last one only last week."
"Time sure goes fast.-- Mrs. Graves said.
"Clark.... Delacroix"
"There goes my old man." Mrs. Delacroix said. She held her breath while her husband went forward.
"Dunbar," Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily to the box while one of the women said. "Go on. Janey," and another said, "There she goes."
"We're next." Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr. Graves came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely and selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded papers in their large hand. turning them over and over nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding the slip of paper.
"Harburt.... Hutchinson."
"Get up there, Bill," Mrs. Hutchinson said. and the people near her laughed.
"Jones."
"They do say," Mr. Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him, "that over in the north village they're talking of giving up the lottery."
Old Man Warner snorted. "Pack of crazy fools," he said. "Listening to the young folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live hat way for a while. Used to be a saying about 'Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.' First thing you know, we'd all be eating stewed chickweed and acorns. There's always been a lottery," he added petulantly. "Bad enough to see young Joe Summers up there joking with everybody."
"Some places have already quit lotteries." Mrs. Adams said.
"Nothing but trouble in that," Old Man Warner said stoutly. "Pack of young fools."
"Martin." And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. "Overdyke.... Percy."
"I wish they'd hurry," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. "I wish they'd hurry."
"They're almost through," her son said.
"You get ready to run tell Dad," Mrs. Dunbar said.
Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called, "Warner."
"Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery," Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd. "Seventy-seventh time."
"Watson" The tall boy came awkwardly through the crowd. Someone said, "Don't be nervous, Jack," and Mr. Summers said, "Take your time, son."
"Zanini."
After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until Mr. Summers. holding his slip of paper in the air, said, "All right, fellows." For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saving. "Who is it?," "Who's got it?," "Is it the Dunbars?," "Is it the Watsons?" Then the voices began to say, "It's Hutchinson. It's Bill," "Bill Hutchinson's got it."
"Go tell your father," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.
People began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr. Summers. "You didn't give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn't fair!"
"Be a good sport, Tessie." Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves said, "All of us took the same chance."
"Shut up, Tessie," Bill Hutchinson said.
"Well, everyone," Mr. Summers said, "that was done pretty fast, and now we've got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time." He consulted his next list. "Bill," he said, "you draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?"
"There's Don and Eva," Mrs. Hutchinson yelled. "Make them take their chance!"
"Daughters draw with their husbands' families, Tessie," Mr. Summers said gently. "You know that as well as anyone else."
"It wasn't fair," Tessie said.
"I guess not, Joe." Bill Hutchinson said regretfully. "My daughter draws with her husband's family; that's only fair. And I've got no other family except the kids."
"Then, as far as drawing for families is concerned, it's you," Mr. Summers said in explanation, "and as far as drawing for households is concerned, that's you, too. Right?"
"Right," Bill Hutchinson said.
"How many kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked formally.
"Three," Bill Hutchinson said.
"There's Bill, Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and me."
"All right, then," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you got their tickets back?"
Mr. Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper. "Put them in the box, then," Mr. Summers directed. "Take Bill's and put it in."
"I think we ought to start over," Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as she could. "I tell you it wasn't fair. You didn't give him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that."
Mr. Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box. and he dropped all the papers but those onto the ground. where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.
"Listen, everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.
"Ready, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked. and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and children. nodded.
"Remember," Mr. Summers said. "take the slips and keep them folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave." Mr. Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the box. "Take a paper out of the box, Davy." Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand into the box and laughed. "Take just one paper." Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you hold it for him." Mr. Graves took the child's hand and removed the folded paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and looked up at him wonderingly.
"Nancy next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching her skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box "Bill, Jr.," Mr. Summers said, and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he got a paper out. "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around defiantly. and then set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out and held it behind her.
"Bill," Mr. Summers said, and Bill Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of paper in it.
The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, "I hope it's not Nancy," and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd.
"It's not the way it used to be." Old Man Warner said clearly. "People ain't the way they used to be."
"All right," Mr. Summers said. "Open the papers. Harry, you open little Dave's."
Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill. Jr.. opened theirs at the same time. and both beamed and laughed. turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above their heads.
"Tessie," Mr. Summers said. There was a pause, and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank.
"It's Tessie," Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. "Show us her paper. Bill."
Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd.
"All right, folks." Mr. Summers said. "Let's finish quickly."
Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. "Come on," she said. "Hurry up."
Mr. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said. gasping for breath. "I can't run at all. You'll have to go ahead and I'll catch up with you."
The children had stones already. And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson few pebbles.
Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. "It isn't fair," she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was saying, "Come on, come on, everyone." Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.
"It isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

americanliterature.com

An Arianne Story

Kerval wanted to go out on deck, but the door wouldn't let him. He played his specs to it for the third time, holding out his yellow/black forearm for its' scans, then gave up and used an illegal lever routine. The door squealed, as its' lock cleared out of sequence, then opened with a silky hiss.The hurricane blasted in, and bowled over bushes in pots, as Kerval stepped through; his dull yellow body folding down and streamlining into the wind. He laughed as he heard the door slam shut behind him. 'Heard that,' he thought. 'Not many could.'
His outer skin was chilling down, out of courtesy to SC1 he figured, to avoid setting off any rescue sensors. And his feet flattened out to get a better grip on the deck. 'If Nona and Lerene could see me they'd be proud.' His head narrowed a little. 'Might even want me out of skin.' He grew thoughtful. 'Stupid routine that. Total retro really - But fun!'Kerval tuned to a less verbal voice, he could annoy himself sometimes, and concentrated on the elemental fury around him. The wind was gusting nearly 200 knots and even he was having trouble moving. For a moment he regretted his petulance with the door. Then he grinned; his whole sensorium was having a ball. The best storm he'd ever been out in, and the party turns would earn him exchanges with anyone he wanted to for weeks.
ShipCity One was turning to adjust to the wind. Even with another twenty engines switched in it was having trouble holding station and the E account was already giving it grief despite the evidence. 'Never mind,' it thought. 'I'll cheat it all back in a few sunny days.'The Lifers and PartyTimers would have to put up with each other for another twenty hours at least; nothing was going to skim or fly for at least that long. There was SC Gorshkov just over the horizon, but even exchanging services in each others' lees was only going to mix the cake in the same old bowl. Until there was clearance to unseal the doors there wasn't much point in worrying.SC One shut down all external sensors, handed control to the duty manager, and called up a friend that was just burning out of orbit. Lunar Jockey looked down and laughed. "Yes old matey, I see what you mean. Rather you than me by the looks of that storm system. I can hardly see which ocean you're in, let alone get a visual on you. Even your IR is washing out.""Yes, most amusing - Too much air is better than none. I called to check in on that little puzzle I put over while you were laying around on your barge."LJ was silent for several seconds. "Give me another day SC. There's streams I've picked up that make no sense sending now. I'll work on it.""Well you do that friend. You know I rate your systems. Have a good landing now."Lunar Jockey sent a routine TLI confirm to its' ground station, then tuned back on a wry channel. "Don't be cruel now, old ship. I only fly round the ball, as you well know. I'll get back asap. Don't bob about too much - Out."SC One curbed its' annoyance. 'Out' indeed; the vacuous old tank would insist on playing the antique. But it was worried now - If Lunar Jockey didn't know what was going on then no-Ai did.
Kervals' friend, HopLite, was streaking along the outside track in the final heat of an armour race; crashing through the terminal barriers with subtle and lightning swift slashes and twists of his extended forelimbs. His dark grey skin shell wore an iridescent sheen of hardening that gleamed like sweat.He'd been training and testing re-configurations for days, and all the effort was paying off; his C-checker was coming up with some very happy numbers indeed. He could see the last parts of the last lap and his rival, Buckey, was so far behind only a total systop could take the winning away now. 'Don't count it till it's loaded,' he thought. 'But even so, this is going just upGee!'
HopLite was due to skim from SC Gorshkov to SC One as soon as the races were over, to meet up with Kerval there, and go on to the mud swims in Florida; assuming he'd won enough counters to treat them both to a decent defrag. He might even afford to call the girls the way this race was going. That would be the cover story anyway.'Don't count it,' he thought again, pursuing the deception. 'They both want Kerval, damn his skin, and you'd only be along for the no ride mostlike.'His radar showed Buckey making his dash, coming up fast behind on lengthening legs, but HopLite had planned for just this move; his reserve dash putting him first across the line with centimetres in hand.
With the counters of his winnings in his account HopLite downed the transit links for SC One and cursed the uncontrollable. All those twenty cent fantasies before chaos theory; no controlling the weather on a planets' surface yet. Probably never. He softened his armour and relaxed into a waiting mood.
As Lunar Jockey coasted outbound, quiet after its' trans-lunar injection burn, some of the passengers wandered up front for a chat and a look through its' views. The Jockey put up a special face for one of them, who hung back till the others had gone. It had known Arianne since it was barely machine-Ai1, and she just back from winning a solarsail race to Mars. Her main rig manager had gone full machine-Ai in the same batch as LJ. Of all the posties it had faced she was the best.But she had stayed post-human long after she had passed her rating for full-Diamond. She didn't even wear skin most of the time. LJ didn't ask; something to do with Mars it knew. She'd tell oneday when she wanted.Ariannes' smile back was just as happy. "Jock, you old vac-tank, how are you? Haven't seen you for decades.""As well as a can can be I'd say. The odd leak here and there, you know. What brings you up with the Lunatics - Off on a lecture tour, another holiday?""No lecture. No holiday. I'm looking for Joe - He's wandered off again. Honestly, he's getting worse than me; I think we're switching roles."LJ considered this idea. It still had trouble with the complexities of human families, despite doing extra human studies, largely on Ariannes' account."Not getting old is he, your brother? He can't be above one fifty.""He's two years older than me," said Arianne. "One five three.""You two were in the first line for extension then. I'm told that can be hard?""Our parents grew up knowing they would die. And they did. It was different for us; we were almost certain we'd live. The only doubt was would it be shared around. You know, Human Nature, your speciality?""Ah, hierarchies. Yes. None of that has really gone away you know.""I know old tin. It's still bad for you guys, I know."Lunar Jockey doubted she did, for all her humane sympathy, but he also knew she was one of the Ai's best allies. And refused to be depressed by that. They'd never spoken of dying before, so at least something had improved.
Two days later, and far out on the Lunar surface, Joe and Arkuus were sitting comfortably in a crater impacted for two; its' sloping walls just high enough to hide them from IR or light sights. Not that they were hiding; their outgoing declaration had been for seventeen days walkabout, taking in an Apollo archive on the way. They just hadn't said, or been required to, which Apollo; their rescue beacons were built in and calibrated by law.
Joe was in his best skin, and Arkuus was just as he came. The same old body he'd insisted on upgrading and maintaining for one hundred and forty years. The eccentricity of his appearance was a shield that suited and amused him. Most humans still referred to him as 'it' and for his purpose that gave him more freedom than grief. He claimed to be a Star Wars fanatic and had stored all nine episodes, with complete references, to prove it."Do you see it yet? Him I mean."Arkuus vibrated slightly with laughter. "None of us are going to be offended Joe. You wouldn't be here if you didn't care." He lifted his ovoid head above the crater rim. "I see no ships. LJ's probably taken a higher arc - I'll call him up in ten if he doesn't call first."He flapped and adjusted the solar blanket he'd draped sunside of the craters' rim; fiddling with the plug of its' input cable. Joe watched in bemused awe. "Come on Arkuus, once and for all. Why keep on using a musem body?"Arkuss' rams and linkages moved smoothly. The large oval eyes took expression from his posture. "It suits me Joe. One day I might shift - Perhaps I'm afraid of change." He pointed in the direction of the Apollo 16 lander, a tiny headless spider five miles away. "Think what it was like for them. You just sit there, in your skin, like you were out for a stroll on old Earth - And you can keep on doing it for as long as the sun shines.""That's not an answer Arko," said Joe quietly. "But I'm sorry. I offended you.""Not you. Just the same old question. I have my reasons Joe." His small secondary arms were folded tight across his chest.
Arkuus instructed the blanket to fold and clean itself. Lifted it so it could slide away into his rib casing. His running sun panels came up from his spine when he stood, linked behind his head like a pulled back cobra hood, and he stepped lithely up onto the rim. "Let's go be tourists," he said. "Actually I never did get out here before. The only Apollo I've not seen."He stopped and looked back as Joe climbed up out of the crater. "LJ sends his regards by the way. He's just been shuttled, and he's off round the dark side for a bit of peace and quiet. And Arianne landed safe; she's in Tranquility ParkSide. The OverLook Hotel."Joe looked up and nodded. After seventy years he was just about used to Arkuus' style. They'd met in Geneva, when he was still some sort of politician. It was Arkuus who'd caused him to phrase it that way; as they jointly advised the hubots' first campaign for Ai rights of consciousness. The first campaign of many over long, slow years of fighting prejudice with reasoned argument.Arkuus stood looking at him. "Oh, and the new results are in on the Yellowstone caldera. Certain to blow within fifty years max. So we sorted the asteroids, now the Earth's going to go from the inside. This is not open news of course."
Joe was too shocked to respond. The Yellowstone caldera a definite. An explosion that would knock over and bury most of the USA, and then take the rest of the planet with it, as dust clouds blocked out sunlight for decades. That was news to be absorbed slowly, or the everyday mind would reject it. He spoke curtly from the stress. "And your point is?""We're going to be needed, the hubots and the machine-Ai's that is. The ShipCities were supposed to pension off in the two nineties', and the ring colonies are barely started. Without full rights we'll just be expendables; like the 'biorobota' at Chernobyl."
So they talked as they walked, full-hubot and full-human, discussing the latest problems of the latest rights campaign; and the news of trouble codeing back on Earth. Social instabilities not seen in more than a hundred years.
Arianne walked out under ParkSides' diamond dome; the crystal clear material so optically perfect it was barely visible. Almost every human wore skin full time now, so the dome had become archive itself; one of the first two visitor sites to go up on the moon.She looked out over the flat, pock-marked terrain to Tranquility Base in the short, sharp distance, and realised she'd never got stale about seeing this place. Flat and sterile, with very few features, but this was where humans had first walked, away from Earth.
Her mood crashed though, when she remembered why she was there. And more than a little angry. Joe was the eldest, she was chasing his tail to make sure he was okay, and for a man of his age he should do some growing up. He was running around like a teen with his old friend Arkuus; she considered the antique hubot to be a bad influence on him.Arianne laughed then. She couldn't believe they'd lived so long and still felt the same old angers and rivalries; and she was thinking emotion like everyones' mother. He'd wandered off before, but there was something different this time; beyond all reason she knew there was trouble coming. Not how, or where, or why, but Joe was right in the middle of it, whatever the hell it was, and the truth was, she owed him.
She didn't like the way it was all going, the Big Picture. If she allowed herself wistful the early two hundreds seemed like the old Wild West. You could go where you liked, do what you wanted, use as much nano as you liked. Now everything was so controlled she felt she couldn't breathe. And the vast LandRestore program, good and worthy as it was, meant that travelling outside the shrinking earth cities involved a nightmare of permissions and queues. After the big jump in the mid 200s' it had all slowed down; even gone backwards. Certainly with nano that was true, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen it available on the open.She walked back down into a side tunnel, and followed the whisper guide to a singles blister beside Apollo 11. Expensive, even using Moon credits from the Mars prize all those years ago. But what was she saving them for anyway?
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BlueScreen cursed. The message coming up on his retina meant they knew he was in. With only the bones of what he'd seen in store. Clunky old military derived code. But still bloody dangerous. He put up his masks, set them walking, set sideways and out. Cursed again. Then he forcecalmed. It was enough; more than enough to spin the wheels of those stupid hubots. Why sweat harder for the same counters?
He got up from under his tree, stretched and walked down to the tideline; the palms rustling behind him. His previous entry could net enough nanosource for a mountain of disruptives. Such a shame the stuff had been regulated to extinction the last hundred or so; but then that was what made him his heap. Allowed him to live on a bit of real land instead of out on the ShipCity fleet. And to be full-Diamond.BlueScreens' balls were itching so bad he wished he'd left them absorbed after last time. Still, he'd been busy. And good. And it was nearly Saturday. Time to spend.
Arkuus spoke to the boulder and it moved aside from a circular tunnel mouth. Joe was left speechless again. This could only have been done with freeform nano; unavailable for eleven decades at least, and illegal almost as long."Part of the reason for the antique body," said Arkuus. "I didn't steal it - I'm made of it. A very early experiment that went right. Don't hover, come on in."
The space beyond was small but very weird; Joe had no idea what he was looking at beyond the basics. The angle of Arkuus' head was set to amused. "Welcome to the AlterNet. Instant access. All channels. All codes. The centre of the revolution my friend. And you are my friend, or you'd not be seeing this." Arkuus leaned back to adjust something and for a moment he blended right into the strange machinery. Joe felt light-headed; even in sixth gee he needed to sit down."The problem is, we've got renegades. Ironic really - We've wanted human rights, and then some of us start acting like humans. Sorry Joe. No sarcasm intended, but the coin flips both ways.""You set up a net outside the net, right?""Riding within it, out of sight actually. But then it went beyond communication. We were pooling raw science data, with a unique level of access. This was where the estimates on Yellowstone originated." Arkuus' oval eyes were locked on Joes'. "We thought we had fiveK years, and now we have fifty.""To get fifteen billion humans and hubots off the planet.""Right - And the terrifying thing is, it can be done. So long as we all have the same agenda. I'm ashamed that it's hubots who're fragging the system right now."
The mud swims in Florida were the perfect cover. Kerval and HopLite logged themselves on site and set about blending in with the other entrants. The rendevous with BlueScreens' delivery was set at the end of the contests. All they had to do was win and wait.
In essence the plan was very simple - As simple as drilling into the Yellowstone caldera with nano, and threatening to blow it early. Like boring a tiny weakness in the wall of a high pressure gas bottle. They'd not really thought it through though. Like countless humans before them they'd decided they were right, and that applying a little leverage could get them what was obviously just. In this case the lever was thirty miles long, with something over a hundred K megatons behind it.They also got a real upload from daring and dangerous things to do - Almost zero self knowledge plus maximum self confidence. This was Arkuus' first and simplest analysis of their motivations; sourced from behind their sign-in data to the AlterNet. He didn't have time or tuning to go any deeper. He just had to stop them before a century of effort was wasted. Or they messed up and restructured Earth ahead of schedule.
The two activist hubots expressed a strange mix of altruism and contempt. Most humans wished to be hubot, largely true from observation, but few if any hubots wished to be human. Not human as the last ten millenia had been lived anyway. They considered themselves members of an oppressed elite; and that too was essentially true.They certainly weren't human, but neither were these two humane. Being ringed into the AlterNet had somehow eroded that calm kindness; something innate in the Ai minds almost without exception. Their finest expression of how best to exist.
Kerval expressed their attitude most openly. "White trash is what we are Hoppy, White Diamond Trash." This was said on the day their grand plan had rolled off the line. "If you don't start out from human you're just a second class appliance. We're good for armour racing and mud swimming, and mining and deep space crews; anything where their wetware could get cut up or fried." His head had narrowed to max. "But they don't want us having a vote or a soul." "We've got soul Kerv," HopLite had said. "You want no soul, try BlueScreen and his tribe.""Yes, balls and brains only. A fatal combination, especially in full-Diamonds. You could pity them for that if they weren't running the show."
Arianne had gone full search on the whole surface and found nothing. Joe had gone walkabout with his friend Arkuus, and they'd disappeared off the map the day she'd arrived. Lunar Rescue didn't seem bothered. Joe had top skin rating, Arkuus was hard vacuum rated, no distress calls had come in, so don't worry was the message. Between the lines they were too busy to care. A tourist shuttle had gone down in the Taurus-Littrow mountains and all their crews were at full stretch; hauling out survivors, hunting personal black boxes and fending off insurance calls and news services. On top of all that there'd been overflights and damage to the Apollo 17 archive site and the preservationists were out in force.
Lunar Jockey had re-appeared from its' break on the dark side, and offered to wait orbit long enough to take her home. The next shuttle could lift her out. It also hinted that Joe had signed diplomatic and headed back for Geneva on a freight lifter."Damn him," muttered Arianne. "There's something up, and he's gone mute on me again. Always too proud to ask. Always was.""Older brother syndrome," said LJ over the link. "As you told me yourself."Arianne paced up and down, bouncing lightly in sixth gee, as she scanned the options. If Joe didn't want her involved, in whatever, he'd be easier to track on Earth. And LJ could get her back fastest. It was configured freight itself this flight and would be running at maximum."Okay, you win my friend. Lift accepted with thanks."
Forty minutes later she was floating across from the GS dock, and admiring the sleek lines of Lunar Jockeys' hull. "Looking good LJ," she said. "All that re-entry work is doing you good.""An SSTO has to keep fit," it replied. "We're riding into Florida Port by the way. The closest I can get you this trip. That freighter uses the barges there, so you might catch Joe before he flies on.""You're a star LJ. You'll be mentioned in despatches.""Nothing too much for a hero of mine. Strapped in and ready?""Confirmed - Let's burn out of here."
Less than two days on and Arianne was walking the boardwalks with the Florida summer crowds. Tourism was almost dead since LandRestore had started and triggered the major exodus to ShipCity living. Unless one of the monsters had a turn to be offshore, and right now ShipCity One herself was in; come for the finals of the Florida Mud Swims.The tops of the venerable old vessels' towers showed across half the horizon, and the sea was streaked by a fleet of wingship shuttles; carrying people, and hubot contestants, in for the Swims. SC One was keeping station seven miles out to avoid shading the shoreline.
Arianne was fascinated and appalled by the whole spectacle of the Mud Swims. Only hubots were able to swim, not even full-Diamond humans could apply, so it seemed like a new version of the old arena mentality. One particular group exploited for the doubtful enjoyment of the roaring majority.She had a VisVerb link going with the Lunar Jockey, while it was down on it's barge for turnaround, and it gleefully pointed out two of the contestants; one a dull yellow/gold colour and the other a dark, armour-ribbed grey. Both with major realtime body-reform installed."Look at those guys for instance. What do they look like out of skin? They've graded so far from basic I'd doubt they can even get skin off.""Their choice though isn't it LJ? Moving up from hubot-basic has been legal for decades. Same as humans going the other way, to full-Diamond.""Just trying for the spirit of occasion Arianne. Lighten up why don't you"Arianne laughed. "Okay LJ, this whole area worries me is all.""Florida or just the bit we're in?""Ham in a can to you, Sir. You know what I mean. Too much like gladiators.""They enjoy, and they can win high - All the old arguments. Plus death is out of the rulebook. Everyone goes home laughing."Arianne rolled her eyes, but still stared at the two hubots."Oh, well, that's okay then." She paused. "I admit it though LJ, those two do give strange signals. What do you reckon it is?""Move your head left a bit, I can't see - - Maybe an air of some other agenda? Too well equipped for just a swim. Also trying for inconspicuous. Follow them round a bit. Let's see what they do."
Several hours later Arianne was fully involved in the rather eerie game. She still didn't know why, but the two hubots had all her warning instincts running at a hundred ten percent. And LJ didn't try to stop her.Without realising it she'd found Joe after all - Except he was still on the Moon, and watching and listening to her every move. Lunar Jockey was quite capable of carrying on two converations at once, and was happily acting as a coms link, with Arkuus controlling the play.
The weather and the darkness were coming in nicely, and BlueScreens' agent was nearly ready to move into the restricted area. Deep in the heart of Yellowstone park, with the few permitted visitor vehicles flying out, it was as quiet and empty as Grimaldi liked best. His highly illegal, military spec skin told him he was clear and untagged. His dummy was on the last airbus out, and he was free go where he liked.The drilling site he'd helped to choose and set up was an easy run in his exoleg rig, and he set off with a whistle and a laugh. This was what the old planet was for, even if he played pivot in a plot to break its' stone bones.
The tunnel to the borehole cap was carefully screened in a jumble of boulders and a state of the art surveillance cloak. Nothing and nobody was going to disturb his baby until it was fed and grown. And then no-one would dare come closer than a thousand K's.Grimaldi neither knew nor cared what the hubots wanted to achieve with this ultimate act of eco-terrorism, he only knew what they were paying and what he could do with that much of a counter heap.He had a few safety measures of his own installed; confident he could control the fireworks sufficiently to impress and still have a world to live on. Even so he had a desperate temptation to just let it all blow anyway - The biggest bang since the Big Bang.
By the time Arianne suspected what was really going on she no longer cared. "If you're hearing this Joe, and I'm pretty damn sure you are, you are going to suffer long and hard my man." She gritted her teeth as the aircar lurched to one side, avoiding a column of stone by the width of its' wings, and checked the readout one more time."And if this fucking wreck is the best chariot you boys can whistle up, then I'm on foot for the rest of my unnatural.""It's the only fully stealthed vehicle on the planet Arianne," said the Jockey. "The only one. So don't complain - And don't break it.""Well it's too late for my ass, so we'll just have to see won't we."Joe sighed; a quarter million miles away. Arianne always talked like this when she was having a good time. He just wished it didn't make him so nervous. Arkuus was doing things with the coms channels he couldn't remotely understand, and he was starting to suffer spectators' despair. He sighed again and resigned himself to the back seat.
Kerval and HopLite were moving as fast as they could, hopping in and out of canyons and valleys every time any sort of signal came up on their aircars' scans. BlueScreen had promised the machine was satellite cloaked, to get them in safe and unseen. The only thing could track them was another aircar, and there was nothing showing. They'd paid too much up front, deliberately, but paranoia was still giving them a very bumpy ride.Behind them, unseen herself, Arianne cursed their rollercoaster piloting for the fiftieth time. She shouted with relief when they finally set up for a landing in a clearing deep in a small canyon. She could see a place, not too far back, where she could land undetected and be up with them in half an hour."Don't worry," the Jockey called. "There's exolegs in the back. And food and drink, and anything else a body could need.""Like that new ass I mentioned?""Don't be coarse Arianne - And mind that tree! Holy shit, that was close.""I saw it yards back. You have no faith in me LJ.""Just get down and get out. Our friends are having a little meeting."'Does she have to pilot the damn thing herself?' thought LJ. 'I could run it from here and no-one would know the difference.'
Grimaldi came out of his tunnel with a wary grin on what was left of his face. The face was his excuse for being a loner on a crowded planet. The fact he could have it fixed in forty minutes was usually ignored; people saw the expressions he could achieve with it and kept their advice to themselves."Welcome clients," he slurred. "We're all set up here I think, the magic potion ready and waiting. It's for you to say the word and the spectacle begins.""How long will it take?" asked HopLite. "The nano I mean.""Hush - - Bad voodoo to say the word. But less than a day should do it. The pre-drill will give it a good start.""Jesus!" said Kerval. "BlueScreen told us a month from first priming.""Ah, well, that's BlueScreen for you. Probalby just wanted to move you along a little faster on the deal."Kerval glanced at HopLite. Giving a good impression of doubt; as if thinking there was no time to take it all in, or reconsider the plan if anything got out of hand. But HopLite only looked overjoyed, acting his turn, as if he'd second-guessed BlueScreen, and his toy was being delivered early. Kerval faked confused and kept quiet.
Arianne moved up to the edge of the clearing just after this first exchange. She thought into low-light so Lunar Jockey could see better through her eyes, and whispered to it for a check. She'd never got the hang of sub-vocal."Not so loud," hissed LJ. "The one with the face has the hottest skin rig I've ever heard of."Arianne turned away and crouched down. "So, what do I do now?""Just watch and wait I'm afraid. We're going to send in a little help, now we know where to deliver. You going to be okay?""Fine. Just fine." Arianne crawled to wedge herself between two boulders. "Wake me up when who or whatever arrives."
The rear service deck of ShipCity One was a windswept and empty acre of lift heads, chopper hooks and assorted machinery waiting to be re-processed. The lift head farthest aft opened with a sharp hiss of escaping warm air. The nearest observers were close on a kilometre further forward, and they were too busy with each other to look anywhere but down. Faint machine sounds were lost in gusts of salted air, rattling and tanging cables on the stern flagmast. The pod emerged and opened in the darkness.Then a roar of sound, and a trail of fire, briefly caught the couples' attention; as a squat, cone-shaped missile launched and angled up and away from the ship. But the youth was thrusting hard, and the girl closed her eyes with a moan; pulling him tighter in.
Lunar Jockey had thought Arianne was joking, but had to shout twice to wake her. The first rapid look around from her eyes triggered its' hold-down clamps to the barge to tighten automatically."Arianne - - !""Oh, sorry - I forgot." She leaned out cautiously. "What's happening?""Back-up should be with you in about twenty seconds. Coming in from the east." It paused, and she thought she heard other voices on the loop. "It'll look like a Ranger drone."
Grimaldi had carefully opened the seal of the nano container to show off the contents to his clients. The sudden blast of light and sound behind him spun HopLite around, and the flask was knocked to the ground.Grimaldi screamed and leapt backwards. But nothing much happened; the pale blob of nano put out a thin tendril, waved it around, and then crawled obediently back into its' pot. A little puff of dust spat out behind it.
Kerval ran 'frozen in horror', staring down, his voice a thin feedback whine."I heard that stuff frags people, hubots, anything - Turns them into mush - - .""HopLite turned back. "What - - ! What are you two running? Don't you see the lights. Hear the sound? Look, there - We're in shit deep!"He flung one arm towards the Ranger drone, as if they'd still not seen it hovering above the clearing.But Grimaldi had recovered himself. He raised one arm - And shot it down.
"Military skin," he said, after a long silence.
Arianne saw the flash line lance out from the full-Diamonds' arm. Watched in disbelief as the Ranger drone lurched sideways, swooped forward, and then spun down across the clearing to crash behind her. A thin column of smoke rose from the wreckage, there was a brief flash, and then nothing.She suddenly felt deadly cold and horribly frightened. She'd spent years making fun of life, no longer the serious young woman who'd sailed solo to Mars, but now she saw all the danger all too clearly.The two hubots and their full-Diamond accomplice had a clownish air about them, which had blinded her to how very dangerous they really were. She glanced back at the wreck and wondered how it had been meant to help her. She had no idea what she could do alone.
"Better get moving and prime this set-up to run," said Grimaldi. "No telling how long we've got now." He re-sealed the nano flask, thumbed open a security cover on its' side, spoke a series of numbers and letters, and carefully carried it into the tunnel."He's doing it," Kerval said, his voice so low that HopLite never heard him. His nerve was badly shaken, for real, but he made no move to stop what was happening. A dull fatalism replaced the fierce joy he'd imagined feeling. Whatever he'd wanted or expected from this seemed very distant to him now.HopLite was staring at the wrecked drone. "Thought I saw something move," he said. "Probably some animal. Hey Kerval - We did it! We'll send the message and watch the bastards sweat.""Message - - ? Oh, we should give the nano time to start. Make sure.""Do we keep up this dumb act with that clown in the tunnel, or kill him now?""No, he can imagine he's got control a bit longer. I'll double-check the little extras he's set up first. Let's go watch him work."
Despite her fear Arianne was dozing again. Drifting into a strange twilight; trying for meditational states she'd used on Mars all those years ago. She'd not practiced for so long, decades and more, and was sinking into despair.Then a voice whispered her name. A sibilant, slightly scratchy voice.She remembered not to scream. Looked slowly around. Saw a pair of figures in the shadows. No more than three feet high. Old fairy tales and abduction stories seethed from her hind brain at the sight and the shape of them."What - - . Who are you?""From Arkuus, and machine-Ai's. Remotes, with a little mind our own," the nearest one said. "They link through us. Are from flyer." It pointed to the wrecked drone. "It has armour pod.""We knew they'd shoot it down," Arkuus' voice buzzed from the second remote. "Now they think the pressure is on. But from outside, at a distance.""But they've armed the well cap with nano. All you've done is speed that up."Arianne heard the whine in her voice and hated it."They were going to do that anyway. Best let them think they've succeeded. Then catch them as they move away." Arkuus voice faded, then returned. "Once they're travelling we let our little friends there disarm the system. The remotes are made of me - They're active, freeform nano themselves.""Set a bug to catch a bug," muttered Arianne. She knew she looked twenty six to outside view, but suddenly felt incredibly old and useless on the inner; she decided everyone should wear a readout displaying real age. The dawn was coming up and she could see the steam of hotsprings further down the canyon. Her body ached to be immersed in that water. She laughed to herself. The springs derived from primal forces that would blow the whole of Yellowstone apart, later if not sooner.
Arkuus and Joe were arguing; debating the best way to present or conceal the actions of the hubots, Kerval and HopLite. And the involvement of full-Diamond humans. Nothing like this scenario had been played for more than a hundred years."But how can you conceal?" asked Joe in exasperation. "You're telling me that's still possible? Then we're in more trouble than just the planet gutting itself in fifty years!""And if the world knows hubots threatened to blow it, we'll still get human rights?" Arkuus looked at him with head straight up. "I know how bad I sound. But this really is unprecedented. If nothing else, humans trust us now.""No-one should trust anyone or anything, ever. But that's not the issue.""Principles eh? Live the dream. In the face of all the evidence."Joe was genuinely shocked. "Please Arko, let's leave this? I didn't think I'd live to hear you talk this way."Arkuus was silent for a long time. Not moving, not appearing active at all. Finally he got up and looked down the tunnel to the surface of the Moon."You shame me Joe. Perhaps I should trade in this old body - Get a younger mind as well." He turned back. "You're right though. Present the whole truth it is. Publish and be damned."
As the sun rose Kerval, HopLite and Grimaldi were getting ready to leave. Grimaldi was nervous; somehow he didn't like the apparent naivete of his hubot clients. Something BlueScreen had observed; as simple as 'they can't be that simple. Watch them'.The aircars' fans were powered up and tilting when the first shock hit, rocking the sleek body violently to one side, and smashing the port forward duct against a rock. The fan screamed, but kept turning, as self-repair routines unbuckled the casing and checked all rotating parts. The simple manager squawked, then got on with overseeing repairs.No-one spoke. Increased seismic activity was predicted, as the vast dome of Yellowstone was forced upwards by slow but immense pressures beneath it.
Arianne threw herself from her refuge between two boulders as they rocked, and threatened to roll together. The remotes leapt upwards to balance on top; their small silver bodies swaying easily into balance.As she looked up past them the hubots' aircar floated into view above the canyon rim, lifting on a rising hiss of fans, and tilted away to the east. Sunlight glinted on its' hull, and it was gone. They either hadn't seen her, or didn't care. Good riddance to them all."What now?" She spat out dust. "You guys get to work I guess. Me, I'm going for a bath."The remotes seemed to float slightly as they jumped down in front of her."We look for nano now. Go into tunnel when safe. After shocks.""You do that." Arianne looked at her strange helpers. "Let me know when there's anything I can do, okay." She wasn't sure who she was talking to, but assumed that Arkuus and Joe could hear her, as well as Lunar Jockey. For some reason the SSTO was silent, which only relieved her in her present mood. A curious, angry sensation of freedom and welcome loneliness.The ground lurched more feebly and she risked getting to her feet. Walked slowly down the dusty canyon bed to the steaming hot springs below.
Lunar Jockey was busy. Airborne and in atmosphere; the work it loved best. High above the Florida coast it turned west and accelerated. Sonic boom reports started to swamp the eastern inland control centre for LandRestore; the callers furious and disbelieving.
Grimaldi saw it first. A cone of distortion in the clouds above and ahead of them, rapidly enlarging.Then the aircar seemed to implode with sound - Punched downwards, almost to the ground, by the impact of supersonic shockwaves."Just a friend of mine, come to say hello," said a voice from the console. "If you good people sit tight we'll go on up to meet him."After a seconds' stunned silence Kerval roared at the manager. "Keep to the course given or I'll pull out your simpleton transistor brain!"Grimaldi pressed back and away, his worst fears about the hubots' real character and intelligence confirmed. But he wasn't alone in mistaking the level of anothers' abilities."Accept it Kerval," said the manager. "I just got upgraded, and the controls of this vehicle are locked to me. From your point of view it's over."Kerval was silent, deep in thought or shock.The aircar lifted back up to a thousand feet, and a huge shadow overtook it on the ground below.
The shadow-maker itself slid forwards beneath them - A streamlined, flattened delta maybe a hundred fifty metres long, with upturned and swept-back tips; its' white upper surface gleaming like a perfect eggshell. Halfway along, an aircar sized hatch was peeling open. A grid of acquisition lights came on around the hatch and a new voice sounded in the cabin of the aircar:"This is the Lunar Jockey. You are about to be taken aboard my vessel. Please observe all ships' safety regulations. Thank you."As Kerval lifted a fist to the console his seat straps tightened in a vicious whiplash, pinning him deep in his seat."Try that again," said the manager. "And I'll strap you through the seat back."Kerval hardened his skin, but the straps already dug deep. He yelped as they clicked in another notch.HopLites' skin ribs had turned a powdery, light grey as he pushed back into his own seat. The manager relaxed the tension a little and he breathed out.Grimaldi just swore. "Fucking machine - - ! Fucking BlueScreen - - ! I knew he didn't check out this flying shithouse full-hundred. Bastard was too busy growing new balls!"The edge of LJs' open hatch went up past the aircars' screens, they sank into its' hold, and everything went dark.
"We got it," said a scratchy voice. "Got nano."Arianne opened her eyes, peered through a drifting curtain of steam. Her two little helpers stood on boulders at the waters's edge. Their simple, ovoid heads nodded in unison."Well, that's good. What should we do now then?" She stretched out, and the upwelling water flowed new warmth around her."The luxurious aircar we provided awaits," said Arkuus through his nodding relay. "We thought a meeting of old friends might be nice. On ShipCity One perhaps? It's very keen to play host. What do you think?""That sounds just fine. Let me dig out a skin to wear, and I'm on my way. Do your little friends here want a lift?""I'd be very happy to see them, and you, Arianne - Meet in two days then?""Two days it is."
SC One was racing north for New Yorks' SeaDock; running on all one hundred engines and to hell with the E account. With a fresh sea breeze off its' starboard bow, and friends dropping in from all over, it was a happy ship.
The Lunar Jockey stood upright on the vast upper receiving deck, its' bulk looking no bigger than a small sail from a distant view, and felt the breeze on its' skin."Good to be sensing," it said. "A beautiful day to be out - And in good company. What do you say SC?""Couldn't agree more," sent the ship. "Party from orbit just checked in - The Selena Six and passengers. Here in twenty. Do you want to see them in?""My pleasure friend. Hand 'em over."
A second white sail floated down to the ShipCity on a tail of blue fire, settling beside the first on the long open area between two towers. As the vapour of its' descent blew away tiny figures emerged and moved forward in a group.
Joe and Arianne were embracing, all rivalries and resentments cancelled by meeting safe and well, and Arkuus was surrounded by the remotes, like a father with two excited children. He beamed a message out."You got a good hold on our errant friends Jockey? - All sharp things taken away I hope.""Held in the hold. Unhappy but harmless," sent LJ. "You want to see them yet? I think anywhere out would suit them fine.""In a while I think - We may have a proposition to put to them. Mis-guided they may have been, but I see a glimmer of silver lining in their madness.""Oh, well, that's really clear Arko. I'm sure you'll enlighten me in time - Out."
"So the idea of releasing pressure from under Yellowstone park may not be so crazy after all, " Joe was saying. "If Active freeform Nano can be authorised, and with the right design, it can find it's own way down through the strata."They were standing right at the tip of SC Ones' long slender forepeak, maybe two hundred metres ahead of the foaming bow wave."You mean," said Arianne, "that the world may not have to blow up in fifty years? We can do something about it.""If we lighten up, and be adventurous again - What have we got to lose?"Arianne looked at him and smiled. Then took Arkuus' slender, open-jointed fingers in one hand."Only the pleasure of living with friends I'd say. And a place to meet them."She looked out ahead, over sparkling waves, then turned and waved to the ship. All along its' upper towers it sounded a rippling boom of horns and a whooping wail of sirens.
End
Copyright - John Coppinger February 2000