A Touch of Infinity by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online

Gulliver’s Travels , this has never happened to anyone before, and if I am not mistaken, Gulliver’s people were three or four inches tall. A half inch is very disturbing.”
    â€œIt’s also very disturbing to live with the fact that you’ve killed a man with a flyswatter.”
    A few days after this conversation, Abigail read an editorial in the Danbury paper. In properly light and mocking tones, it said: “Is it true, as the song puts it, that there are fairies at the bottom of our gardens? A number of otherwise sober citizens have been muttering that they have seen very small people. How small? Anywhere from half an inch to three-quarters of an inch, a diminution of size that puts Gulliver to shame. We ourselves have not encountered any of the little fellows, but we have an Irish grandmother who reports numerous such encounters in the Old Country. We might say that Irish Dew, taken in sufficient quantities, will produce the same effect in any locale.”
    Since the children were present, Abigail passed the paper to her husband without comment. He read it, and then he said:
    â€œI asked Reverend Somers to stop by.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œIt’s a moral question, isn’t it? I thought it might put your mind to rest.”
    Their daughter watched them curiously. There are no secrets from children. “Why can’t I play in the woods?” Billy wanted to know.
    â€œBecause I say so,” Abigail answered, a tack she had never taken before.
    â€œEffie Jones says there are little people in the woods,” Billy continued. “Effie Jones says she squashed one of them.”
    â€œEffie Jones is a liar, which everyone knows,” his sister said.
    â€œI don’t like to hear you call anyone a liar,” Herbert said uncomfortably. “It’s not very nice.”
    â€œWe’re such nice people,” Abigail told herself. Yet she was relieved when Reverend Somers appeared later that evening. Somers was an eminently sensible man who looked upon the world without jaundice or disgust, not at all an easy task in the 1970s.
    Somers tasted his sherry, praised it, and said that he was delighted to be with nice people, some of his nicest people.
    â€œBut like a doctor,” Herbert said, “your hosts are never very happy.”
    â€œI don’t know of any place in the Bible where happiness is specified as a normal condition of mankind.”
    â€œLast week I was happy,” Abigail said.
    â€œLet me plunge into some theology,” Herbert said bluntly. “Do you believe that God made man in His own image?”
    â€œAnthropomorphically—no. In a larger sense, yes. What is it, Herbert? The little people?”
    â€œYou know about them?”
    â€œKnow. Heard. It’s all over the place, Herbert.”
    â€œDo you believe it?”
    â€œI don’t know what to believe.”
    â€œBelieve it, Reverend. Abby swatted one. With the fly-swatter. Killed it. I brought it over to Chief Bradley.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYes,” Abigail interjected bitterly.
    â€œWhat was it?” the Reverend asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Herbert replied unhappily. “Under the magnifying glass, it was a man. A complete man about as big as a large ant. A white man.”
    â€œWhy must you keep harping on the fact that it was a white man?” Abigail said.
    â€œWell, it’s just a matter of fact. It was a white man.”
    â€œYou appear quite satisfied that it was a man.”
    â€œI thought it was a fly,” Abigail interjected. “For heaven’s sake, the thing was not much bigger than a fly.”
    â€œAbsolutely,” Herbert agreed.
    â€œWhat you both mean,” Somers said slowly, “is that it looked like a man.”
    â€œWell—yes.”
    â€œWhere is it now?”
    â€œChief Bradley put it into formaldehyde.”
    â€œI should like to have a look at it. We say it looks like a man.