The Seed of Evil

They braced themselves, but to no avail. Wings wheeling in the void; mad brains arcing, contorted beyond the parameters of sanity; awareness forced into aspects of unnatural distortion, required to view reality from exaggerated viewpoints.

But eventually the beam came through clear and strong and a more normal mental state resumed. Later, however, it was discovered that one of the beings, during his arcings and threshings, had fallen against the Earth machine and had accidentally switched off. On Earth, all brains, animal and human, had gone out.

There seemed little reason to reactivate the transmitter; the Earth experiment had served its purpose long ago. Over a fairly short span of time life on Earth slid back to the mindless levels of self-perpetuating organics: the viral, bacteriological and primitive vegetable levels. The atmospheric mix adjusted itself accordingly; and as the blankness of eternity resumed its endless course, the planet joined its billions of brethren in familiar oblivion.

Integrity

The wedding had been lively. The bride was a remarkably pretty girl, and to keep her the groom had been forced to battle desperately with about a dozen determined men. The refrigerated armour which he wore both by custom and necessity had at times glowed cherry-red as it absorbed the energy of assorted heat-guns.

If the wedding ceremony was one of the most savage traditions in the social life of Free America, it was also one of the most entertaining. Juble was in a good mood by the time his companion Fleck eventually flew him home.

“Ah nearly had her,” he boasted in his drawling voice, carefully wiping over the parts of his disassembled heat-gun with a clean rag. “This neat package nearly got me the neatest package you ever did see. What a night this would ha’been!”

With a series of clicks, the gun was again assembled in his hands.

“Not so neat,” Fleck observed, “when you think of the trouble she’d bring. You’d be dead in two days.”

“Ah can look after mahself.” As the car flew between two skyscrapers Juble lifted his weapon to his shoulder, aimed and let loose. A volley of heat-packets incinerated the policeman who was pacing the elevated sidewalk.

Fleck accelerated nervously. “Don’t be so damned trigger-happy. What if there’s a squad-car along the way?”

Juble laughed with delight. He had always taken advantage of the citizen’s right to make war on the police.

The massive city sat darkly as they flew among its blocks. Even with the pilot lamp on the front of the car flying at night was difficult since there were no lights anywhere except an occasional illuminated window. If a man wanted light or power, he must generate his own. Fleck dropped some of the party mood he had maintained at the wedding. In the canyons between skyscrapers even the moon was obscured and he needed concentration.

Juble let the gun fall on to his bare thighs with a faint slap. He also became more serious. His attention returned to a personal problem which, despite the festivities, had been nagging all along at the back of his mind.

“Fleck,” he said, “the cops were banging on mah door last night. Ah gotta pay the tax.” He was referring to the law by which every citizen was required to work one day in each year in the service of the state.

“So has everybody,” Fleck said absently. “It’s not much, after all.”

Juble was silent. Finally he said: “Well, last year was enough for me. Ah don’t get on too well with them bossy cops. It offends against mah personal integrity to be degraded so. Anyway, Ah don’t get much fun out of repairing buildings Ah’ll only want to smash up again. This time Ah think Ah’ll pay in cash.”

“Cash? You’re crazy.”

“Cash is still valid.” Juble insisted indignantly. “That’s the law! What Ah need is somebody to engage me privately for one day to work for him, and pay me in cash. Then Ah can pay off mah obligation in money instead of labour.” He nodded judiciously. “A much more dignified arrangement. But … the only man Ah can think of is that old crank, Joe.”

“I expect he’s got a room full of bills somewhere.” Fleck spoke casually, giving his attention to the darkness.

“Do you think he’ll take me on?” Juble asked nervously.

“Well, go and ask. He messes around, he might need help.”

“Yes, but do you think he will?” Juble’s anxiety became more open. “Without offering me insult? After all, Ah’ve got mah—”

“I know, you’ve got your personal integrity,” Fleck repeated, laughing. “Well, there’s only one way to find out. Go and ask him. Tomorrow.”

Juble sighed and leaned back. “Yeah, I suppose so,” he said. “Reckon Ah should take a field gun.”

Joe was squatting on his roof at the time of Juble’s visit, watching a motorised knife slice up a piece of wood. Rapidly the cube diminished in size as the knife halved, threw away one piece, halved what remained, and continued, selecting, halving, and pushing away the parings.