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Sparx, v. 1, issue 6, February 1948
Page 12
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The sentence trailed off. Like some ancient drumbeat came the thought: An earthman? I? How could I say that, with the memories that even now were surging up within me? Joe clicked a lever and aimed the lenses of his bank of cameras at the city. I glanced out. Directly before us was a gap in the wall where a long-fallen gate had once stood. A watch-tower had once commanded the area before the walls; tons of sand had crumpled its roof and cracked its walls. The material of the buildings in sight showed great splotches of decay where chemical action thousands of years in length were eating away the city's heart. I turned away. "Joe," I said without looking at him. "Let's pull out. Let's head back into that sandstorm and forget we ever saw a city." He stared. Slowly he shoved the cameras back and gazed at me with a troubled frown. "How come?" he finally asked. "Oh...I don't know. You don't go digging in cemeteries, do you? Let 'em rest." "You shouldn't be squeamish about the dead," he told me. "You ran guns to Phobos during the Revolution. You've seen death." I didn't quite know what to say. "Yes, but...this is different. It's a people. My people." Suddenly I was mad. "They're dead. I'm dead. The whole darn planet's dead, but somebody forgot to bury it. Let's get out of here before we suffocate." He looked quizzically at me. "Easy, guy, or we'll have to report you to the Psych Department. Okay. We'll go." Joe punched switches, and the ship rose. He glanced at me nervously, and I knew we would never be the same together again. But there was nothing to be said. He could never understand because his race was still alive. Mine was dead, and it would never live again. There was nothing to say. We sat in silence; the ship plunged up, through the endless rivers of falling sand. -------------------------------- IHAVEBEENADVISEDTHATBEARDMEMBLINGISBETTERTHANWHATIWASUSINGSOHERE --------------------------------- THE COLD WAR (CONT.) Watching the "Spirit of '00" climbing slowly on the tip of a sword of flame. "Taking it slow," somebody commented. "Trying to coax enough power out of engine to get away from our gravitational field -- which is small. He won't make it. We figured it all out long ago." "He's irrational," nodded Neiland. "It looks as though he might make it, so he's trying. I should have guessed -- he's been acting strangely." The ship was high by then, little more than a dull cinder in the dark sky of the asteroid. We have got a damn small gravitational pull, thought Neiland. Could he make it? Higher, higher...Almost against their will the men were beginning to wonder. Was it possible? Had they been wrong? Was it ((More on page number sixteen)) 12
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The sentence trailed off. Like some ancient drumbeat came the thought: An earthman? I? How could I say that, with the memories that even now were surging up within me? Joe clicked a lever and aimed the lenses of his bank of cameras at the city. I glanced out. Directly before us was a gap in the wall where a long-fallen gate had once stood. A watch-tower had once commanded the area before the walls; tons of sand had crumpled its roof and cracked its walls. The material of the buildings in sight showed great splotches of decay where chemical action thousands of years in length were eating away the city's heart. I turned away. "Joe," I said without looking at him. "Let's pull out. Let's head back into that sandstorm and forget we ever saw a city." He stared. Slowly he shoved the cameras back and gazed at me with a troubled frown. "How come?" he finally asked. "Oh...I don't know. You don't go digging in cemeteries, do you? Let 'em rest." "You shouldn't be squeamish about the dead," he told me. "You ran guns to Phobos during the Revolution. You've seen death." I didn't quite know what to say. "Yes, but...this is different. It's a people. My people." Suddenly I was mad. "They're dead. I'm dead. The whole darn planet's dead, but somebody forgot to bury it. Let's get out of here before we suffocate." He looked quizzically at me. "Easy, guy, or we'll have to report you to the Psych Department. Okay. We'll go." Joe punched switches, and the ship rose. He glanced at me nervously, and I knew we would never be the same together again. But there was nothing to be said. He could never understand because his race was still alive. Mine was dead, and it would never live again. There was nothing to say. We sat in silence; the ship plunged up, through the endless rivers of falling sand. -------------------------------- IHAVEBEENADVISEDTHATBEARDMEMBLINGISBETTERTHANWHATIWASUSINGSOHERE --------------------------------- THE COLD WAR (CONT.) Watching the "Spirit of '00" climbing slowly on the tip of a sword of flame. "Taking it slow," somebody commented. "Trying to coax enough power out of engine to get away from our gravitational field -- which is small. He won't make it. We figured it all out long ago." "He's irrational," nodded Neiland. "It looks as though he might make it, so he's trying. I should have guessed -- he's been acting strangely." The ship was high by then, little more than a dull cinder in the dark sky of the asteroid. We have got a damn small gravitational pull, thought Neiland. Could he make it? Higher, higher...Almost against their will the men were beginning to wonder. Was it possible? Had they been wrong? Was it ((More on page number sixteen)) 12
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