that the sun was going to radiate just
the fraction more heat that meant the end of all life. A pity that only
ten people from Simsville had a chance of life.
Sammy came in. I took control of myself.
"Glad to see you, Sammy," I said. "You're elected. You're going to Mars."
He nodded. He was another who wasn't surprised. "I thought that might
happen," he admitted, "now Mortenson's dead."
"Dead?" I exclaimed.
"You didn't know? I thought you'd be watching from the window."
"Who killed him?"
"I did. If you didn't see what he was doing at the time, please don't
ask me to describe it. I always had a weak stomach. And Pat?"
"She goes too."
He nodded again. But he was still thinking of Mortenson. "You wouldn't
think that even something like this could change people so completely
so quickly," he said.
Pat laughed, unaffectedly this time. "You should know better than that,
Sammy," she said. "People don't change. Never. They may be changed,
or they may reveal themselves, or we may have seen them wrong the first
time. That's all."
"Never mind that," I said. "There isn't much time. Listen. You may have
heard a rumor that a plane will pick up the selected people at the park."
Sammy nodded. "Well, there will be a plane," I said, "but that's only a
blind. The plane is the escort for a helicopter that'll land here in the
square about the same time. Everybody should be at the park. The people
who mean to make trouble, anyway. The other eight who are going with us
will know by now. They just have to get to the square, that's all. They
should be safe so long as they don't give themselves away."
Sammy began to make objections, but I waved them aside rather petulantly.
"Don't you think I've had time to see what's wrong with the plan in the
last few weeks? It isn't mine. Anyway, what else could have been done?
Nobody has more than a few hundred yards to go anyway, except the Stowes,
and they'll come in their car. I know . . ."
Faintly but clearly we heard a plane.
"It's early," said Sammy.
"No. It's got to fly about and circle so that everyone believes it's the
plane they've heard about, and they've only got to see where it lands --
in the park or anywhere else. There's going to be no trouble, Sammy,
unless too many people are smart and realize they're being fooled."
"But they've got a pretty good idea where you are."
"That was always the difficulty. We can't do anything about that --
only hope the plane will be a greater attraction."
For long, tense minutes we waited. Then -- because there had to be a
little time in reserve -- I got up. "Come on," I said.
The hotel had had no staff for a long time. The manager had no imagination
at all, and he clung grimly to his job and his duties. There were no
unauthorized people in the hotel.
We got down to ground level without seeing anyone. Naturally no one would
come into the hotel, where they might miss us, when they only had to watch
the exits.
The plane was still circling. Once or twice we heard it swoop to land,
then climb again. The pilots of those planes had a big job. They had
to be psychologists as well as heroes -- for, of course, theirs was
liable to be a suicide job. Mobs wherever this plan was adopted would
tear these pilots to pieces when they learned they were just decoys.
The point was, the people were pretty certain I was at the hotel. Would
anything make them leave? Only the conviction that I had somehow eluded
them. All I could do about that I had done -- have flares lit at the
pavilion, flares that would be visible anywhere in Simsville, and would
surely make people think that I was at the park, signaling to the plane.
The suspense was the cruelest, most effective part of it. People who at
first had been grimly determined to wait in the square in the belief that
I must
the fraction more heat that meant the end of all life. A pity that only
ten people from Simsville had a chance of life.
Sammy came in. I took control of myself.
"Glad to see you, Sammy," I said. "You're elected. You're going to Mars."
He nodded. He was another who wasn't surprised. "I thought that might
happen," he admitted, "now Mortenson's dead."
"Dead?" I exclaimed.
"You didn't know? I thought you'd be watching from the window."
"Who killed him?"
"I did. If you didn't see what he was doing at the time, please don't
ask me to describe it. I always had a weak stomach. And Pat?"
"She goes too."
He nodded again. But he was still thinking of Mortenson. "You wouldn't
think that even something like this could change people so completely
so quickly," he said.
Pat laughed, unaffectedly this time. "You should know better than that,
Sammy," she said. "People don't change. Never. They may be changed,
or they may reveal themselves, or we may have seen them wrong the first
time. That's all."
"Never mind that," I said. "There isn't much time. Listen. You may have
heard a rumor that a plane will pick up the selected people at the park."
Sammy nodded. "Well, there will be a plane," I said, "but that's only a
blind. The plane is the escort for a helicopter that'll land here in the
square about the same time. Everybody should be at the park. The people
who mean to make trouble, anyway. The other eight who are going with us
will know by now. They just have to get to the square, that's all. They
should be safe so long as they don't give themselves away."
Sammy began to make objections, but I waved them aside rather petulantly.
"Don't you think I've had time to see what's wrong with the plan in the
last few weeks? It isn't mine. Anyway, what else could have been done?
Nobody has more than a few hundred yards to go anyway, except the Stowes,
and they'll come in their car. I know . . ."
Faintly but clearly we heard a plane.
"It's early," said Sammy.
"No. It's got to fly about and circle so that everyone believes it's the
plane they've heard about, and they've only got to see where it lands --
in the park or anywhere else. There's going to be no trouble, Sammy,
unless too many people are smart and realize they're being fooled."
"But they've got a pretty good idea where you are."
"That was always the difficulty. We can't do anything about that --
only hope the plane will be a greater attraction."
For long, tense minutes we waited. Then -- because there had to be a
little time in reserve -- I got up. "Come on," I said.
The hotel had had no staff for a long time. The manager had no imagination
at all, and he clung grimly to his job and his duties. There were no
unauthorized people in the hotel.
We got down to ground level without seeing anyone. Naturally no one would
come into the hotel, where they might miss us, when they only had to watch
the exits.
The plane was still circling. Once or twice we heard it swoop to land,
then climb again. The pilots of those planes had a big job. They had
to be psychologists as well as heroes -- for, of course, theirs was
liable to be a suicide job. Mobs wherever this plan was adopted would
tear these pilots to pieces when they learned they were just decoys.
The point was, the people were pretty certain I was at the hotel. Would
anything make them leave? Only the conviction that I had somehow eluded
them. All I could do about that I had done -- have flares lit at the
pavilion, flares that would be visible anywhere in Simsville, and would
surely make people think that I was at the park, signaling to the plane.
The suspense was the cruelest, most effective part of it. People who at
first had been grimly determined to wait in the square in the belief that
I must
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