Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Arthur C. Clarke
thousand people screaming with the pain of the same wound-ten thousand people who, when they bad recovered from the shock, found themselves completely unharmed. But that was the end of that bull-fight, and indeed of all bull-fighting, for the news spread rapidly. It is worth recording that the aficionados were so shaken that only one in ten asked for their money back, and also that the London Daily Mirror made matters much worse by suggesting that the Spaniards adopt cricket as a new national sport.
"You may be correct," the old Weishman replied. 'Possibly the motives of the Overlords are good-according to their standards, which may sometimes be the same as ours. But they are interlopers-we never asked them to come here and turn our world upside-down, destroying ideals-yes, and nations-that generations of men have fought to protect."
"I come from a small nation that had to fight for its liber.ties," retorted Stormgren. "Yet I am for Kareilen. You may annoy him, you may even delay the achievement of his aims, but it will make no difference m the end. Doubtless you are sincere in believing as you do: I can understand your fear that the traditions and cultures of little countries will be overwhelmed when the World State arrives. But you are wrong:
it is useless to cling to the past. Even before the Overlords came to Earth, the sovereign state was dying. They have merely hastened its end: no one can save it now-and no one should try."
37
There was no answer: the man opppsite neither moved nor spoke. He sat with his lips half open, his eyes now lifeless as well as blind. Around hint the others were equally motionless, frozen in strained, unnatural attitudes. With a gasp of pure horror, Stormgren rose to his feet and backed away towards the door. As he did so the silence was suddenly broken.
"That was a nice speech, Rikki: thank you. Now I think we can go."
Stormgren spun on his heels and stared into the shadowed corridor. Floating there at eye-level was a small, featureless sphere-the source, no doubt, of whatever mysterious force the Overlords had brought into action. It was hard to be sure, but Stormgren imagined that be could hear a faint humming, as of a hive of bees on a drowsy summer day.
"Karellen! Thank God! But what have you done?"
"Don't worryj they're quite all right. You can call it a paralysis, but it's much subtler than that. They're simply living a few thousand years more slowly than normal. When we've gone they'll never know what happened."
"You'll leave them here until the police come?"
"No. I've a much better plan. I'm letting them go."
Stormgren felt a surprising sense of relief. He gave a last valedictory glance at the little room and its frozen occupants. Joe was standing on one foot, staring very stupidly at nothing. Suddenly Stormgren laughed and fumbled in his pockets.
"Thanks for the hospitality, Joe," he said. "I think I'll leave a souvenir."
He ruffled through the scraps of paper until he had found the figures he wanted. Then, on a reasonably clean sheet, he wrote carefully:
B~u~ OF MANHATTAN
Pay Joe the sum of One hundred Thirty-Five Dollars and Fifty Cents ($135.50)
R. Stormgren.
As he laid the strip of paper beside the Pole, Karellen's voice enquired:
"Exactly what are you doing ?"
"We Stormgrens always pay our debts. The other two cheated, but Joe played fair. At least I never caught him out."
He felt very gay and lightheaded, and quite forty years younger, as he walked to the door. The metal sphere moved
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4
aside to let him pass. He assumed that it was some kind of robot, and it explained how Karellen had been able to reach him through the unknown layers of rock overhead.
"Carry straight on for a hundred metres," said the sphere, speaking in Karellen's voice. "Then turn to the left until I give you further instructions."
He strode forward eagerly, though he realized that there was no need for hurry. The sphere remained hanging in the corridor, presumably
"You may be correct," the old Weishman replied. 'Possibly the motives of the Overlords are good-according to their standards, which may sometimes be the same as ours. But they are interlopers-we never asked them to come here and turn our world upside-down, destroying ideals-yes, and nations-that generations of men have fought to protect."
"I come from a small nation that had to fight for its liber.ties," retorted Stormgren. "Yet I am for Kareilen. You may annoy him, you may even delay the achievement of his aims, but it will make no difference m the end. Doubtless you are sincere in believing as you do: I can understand your fear that the traditions and cultures of little countries will be overwhelmed when the World State arrives. But you are wrong:
it is useless to cling to the past. Even before the Overlords came to Earth, the sovereign state was dying. They have merely hastened its end: no one can save it now-and no one should try."
37
There was no answer: the man opppsite neither moved nor spoke. He sat with his lips half open, his eyes now lifeless as well as blind. Around hint the others were equally motionless, frozen in strained, unnatural attitudes. With a gasp of pure horror, Stormgren rose to his feet and backed away towards the door. As he did so the silence was suddenly broken.
"That was a nice speech, Rikki: thank you. Now I think we can go."
Stormgren spun on his heels and stared into the shadowed corridor. Floating there at eye-level was a small, featureless sphere-the source, no doubt, of whatever mysterious force the Overlords had brought into action. It was hard to be sure, but Stormgren imagined that be could hear a faint humming, as of a hive of bees on a drowsy summer day.
"Karellen! Thank God! But what have you done?"
"Don't worryj they're quite all right. You can call it a paralysis, but it's much subtler than that. They're simply living a few thousand years more slowly than normal. When we've gone they'll never know what happened."
"You'll leave them here until the police come?"
"No. I've a much better plan. I'm letting them go."
Stormgren felt a surprising sense of relief. He gave a last valedictory glance at the little room and its frozen occupants. Joe was standing on one foot, staring very stupidly at nothing. Suddenly Stormgren laughed and fumbled in his pockets.
"Thanks for the hospitality, Joe," he said. "I think I'll leave a souvenir."
He ruffled through the scraps of paper until he had found the figures he wanted. Then, on a reasonably clean sheet, he wrote carefully:
B~u~ OF MANHATTAN
Pay Joe the sum of One hundred Thirty-Five Dollars and Fifty Cents ($135.50)
R. Stormgren.
As he laid the strip of paper beside the Pole, Karellen's voice enquired:
"Exactly what are you doing ?"
"We Stormgrens always pay our debts. The other two cheated, but Joe played fair. At least I never caught him out."
He felt very gay and lightheaded, and quite forty years younger, as he walked to the door. The metal sphere moved
35
4
aside to let him pass. He assumed that it was some kind of robot, and it explained how Karellen had been able to reach him through the unknown layers of rock overhead.
"Carry straight on for a hundred metres," said the sphere, speaking in Karellen's voice. "Then turn to the left until I give you further instructions."
He strode forward eagerly, though he realized that there was no need for hurry. The sphere remained hanging in the corridor, presumably