Her Smoke Rose Up Forever (S.F. MASTERWORKS) by James Tiptree Jr.
Authors: James Tiptree Jr.
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unspoken, savored, mounting excitement behind their eyes; the light touches; then the seeking of their own room, the falling clothes, the caresses, gentle at first—the flesh, the nakedness —the delicate teasing, the grasp, the first thrust—
A terrible alarm bell went off in his head. Exploded from his dream, he stared around, then finally down at his hands. What was he doing with his open clasp knife in his fist?
Stunned, he felt for the last shreds of his fantasy, and realized that the tactile images had not been of caresses, but of a frail neck strangling in his fist, the thrust had been the plunge of a blade seeking vitals. In his arms, legs, phantasms of striking and trampling bones cracking. And Amy—
Oh, god. Oh, god—
Not sex, blood lust.
That was what he had been dreaming. The sex was there, but it was driving some engine of death.
Numbly he put the knife away, thinking only over and over, it’s got me. It’s got me. Whatever it is, it’s got me. I can’t go home.
After an unknown time he got up and made his way to the United counter to turn in his ticket. The line was long. As he waited, his mind cleared a little. What could he do, here in Miami? Wouldn’t it be better to get back to Ann Arbor and turn himself in to Barney? Barney could help him, if anyone could. Yes, that was best. But first he had to warn Anne.
The connection took even longer this time. When Anne finally answered he found himself blurting unintelligibly, it took a while to make her understand he wasn’t talking about a plane delay.
“I tell you, I’ve caught it. Listen, Anne, for god’s sake. If I should come to the house don’t let me come near you. I mean it. I mean it. I’m going to the lab, but I might lose control and try to get to you. Is Barney there?”
“Yes, but darling—”
“Listen. Maybe he can fix me, maybe this’ll wear off. But I’m not safe. Anne, Anne, I’d kill you, can you understand? Get a—get a weapon. I’ll try not to come to the house. But if I do, don’t let me get near you. Or Amy. It’s a sickness, it’s real. Treat me—treat me like a fucking wild animal. Anne, say you understand, say you’ll do it.”
They were both crying when he hung up.
He went shaking back to sit and wait. After a time his head seemed to clear a little more. Doctor, try to think. The first thing he thought of was to take the loathsome knife and throw it down a trash slot. As he did so he realized there was one more piece of Barney’s material in his pocket. He uncrumpled it; it seemed to be a clipping from Nature.
At the top was Barney’s scrawl: “Only guy making sense. U.K. infected now, Oslo, Copenhagen out of communication. Damfools still won’t listen. Stay put.”
C OMMUNICATION FROM P ROFESSOR I AN M ACLNTYRE , G LASGOW U NIV .
A potential difficulty for our species has always been implicit in the close linkage between the behavioral expression of aggression/predation and sexual reproduction in the male. This close linkage is shown by (a) many of the same neuromuscular pathways which are utilized both in predatory and sexual pursuit, grasping, mounting, etc., and (b) similar states of adrenergic arousal which are activated in both. The same linkage is seen in the males of many other species; in some, the expression of aggression and copulation alternate or even coexist, an all-too-familiar example being the common house cat. Males of many species bite, claw, bruise, tread, or otherwise assault receptive females during the act of intercourse; indeed, in some species the male attack is necessary for female ovulation to occur.
In many if not all species it is the aggressive behavior which appears first, and then changes to copulatory behavior when the appropriate signal is presented ( e.g. , the three-tined stickleback and the European robin). Lacking the inhibiting signal, the male’s fighting response continues and the female is attacked or driven off.
It seems therefore appropriate to
A terrible alarm bell went off in his head. Exploded from his dream, he stared around, then finally down at his hands. What was he doing with his open clasp knife in his fist?
Stunned, he felt for the last shreds of his fantasy, and realized that the tactile images had not been of caresses, but of a frail neck strangling in his fist, the thrust had been the plunge of a blade seeking vitals. In his arms, legs, phantasms of striking and trampling bones cracking. And Amy—
Oh, god. Oh, god—
Not sex, blood lust.
That was what he had been dreaming. The sex was there, but it was driving some engine of death.
Numbly he put the knife away, thinking only over and over, it’s got me. It’s got me. Whatever it is, it’s got me. I can’t go home.
After an unknown time he got up and made his way to the United counter to turn in his ticket. The line was long. As he waited, his mind cleared a little. What could he do, here in Miami? Wouldn’t it be better to get back to Ann Arbor and turn himself in to Barney? Barney could help him, if anyone could. Yes, that was best. But first he had to warn Anne.
The connection took even longer this time. When Anne finally answered he found himself blurting unintelligibly, it took a while to make her understand he wasn’t talking about a plane delay.
“I tell you, I’ve caught it. Listen, Anne, for god’s sake. If I should come to the house don’t let me come near you. I mean it. I mean it. I’m going to the lab, but I might lose control and try to get to you. Is Barney there?”
“Yes, but darling—”
“Listen. Maybe he can fix me, maybe this’ll wear off. But I’m not safe. Anne, Anne, I’d kill you, can you understand? Get a—get a weapon. I’ll try not to come to the house. But if I do, don’t let me get near you. Or Amy. It’s a sickness, it’s real. Treat me—treat me like a fucking wild animal. Anne, say you understand, say you’ll do it.”
They were both crying when he hung up.
He went shaking back to sit and wait. After a time his head seemed to clear a little more. Doctor, try to think. The first thing he thought of was to take the loathsome knife and throw it down a trash slot. As he did so he realized there was one more piece of Barney’s material in his pocket. He uncrumpled it; it seemed to be a clipping from Nature.
At the top was Barney’s scrawl: “Only guy making sense. U.K. infected now, Oslo, Copenhagen out of communication. Damfools still won’t listen. Stay put.”
C OMMUNICATION FROM P ROFESSOR I AN M ACLNTYRE , G LASGOW U NIV .
A potential difficulty for our species has always been implicit in the close linkage between the behavioral expression of aggression/predation and sexual reproduction in the male. This close linkage is shown by (a) many of the same neuromuscular pathways which are utilized both in predatory and sexual pursuit, grasping, mounting, etc., and (b) similar states of adrenergic arousal which are activated in both. The same linkage is seen in the males of many other species; in some, the expression of aggression and copulation alternate or even coexist, an all-too-familiar example being the common house cat. Males of many species bite, claw, bruise, tread, or otherwise assault receptive females during the act of intercourse; indeed, in some species the male attack is necessary for female ovulation to occur.
In many if not all species it is the aggressive behavior which appears first, and then changes to copulatory behavior when the appropriate signal is presented ( e.g. , the three-tined stickleback and the European robin). Lacking the inhibiting signal, the male’s fighting response continues and the female is attacked or driven off.
It seems therefore appropriate to
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