Again, Dangerous Visions Part 73

Our old sarge he heads for the TeeBee TeeBee stoppin by cadre barracks only long enough to pack a couple parsimonious suitcases [suitcases? well, call em duffles ef you like to] for s.p.a.ce duty, grab a military gyrocar, fling him's stoppin by cadre barracks only long enough to pack a couple parsimonious suitcases [suitcases? well, call em duffles ef you like to] for s.p.a.ce duty, grab a military gyrocar, fling him's Bilbo Bilbo bags in, scuddle uccer tarmac to the bags in, scuddle uccer tarmac to the TeeBee TeeBee, cline upboard m finiz berth. s.p.a.cerine hammock's none 2 comphy, one must admit, but like rubbery jello, it'll do.

Sarge stoze gear, check sin, finezeez first man in from his section and disTeeBeez to wait for others. He paces tarmac, gazes back m up at the to wait for others. He paces tarmac, gazes back m up at the Theodore Bilbo Theodore Bilbo she's a fine figure of a ship. Tall, rounded shaft glisters in Alquane's pretty morning rays. Up at the top and instrument ring girds fuselage and atop that the conical command module replete with tippy-top cat's-iris command viewing station. Master ruby laser station there too, firing stream of hot singeing light to bathe foe when she's a fine figure of a ship. Tall, rounded shaft glisters in Alquane's pretty morning rays. Up at the top and instrument ring girds fuselage and atop that the conical command module replete with tippy-top cat's-iris command viewing station. Master ruby laser station there too, firing stream of hot singeing light to bathe foe when TeeBee's TeeBee's aroused. aroused.

Crew quarters in the shaft, gun modules in the skin, and down at ground level mounted to the base of the shaft two giant globular fuel modules glistering m gleaming in the warming rays of happy old Alquane light, their contents of supercold liquified compmatter bubbling over surplus through safely valves, it hisses and steams in the Alquane warmth looking like cl.u.s.ters and curlicues of angel's hair around the globular modules and the base of the old Theodore B Theodore B.

Finally sarge's squad trickle in. Nice boys, nice all, from fine ole pure-blooded surn fammies O yes. Sweet blond hand laserman from Echola, articifer's mate from Eutaw, couple pincer-axemen from c.o.xheath m Salitpa, glow-mortarman from Gasque and a sissant sarge outen Suggsville Center. A good crew all. That's important.

Our old sarge, he checked round summat, found altogether a fine bunch in that platoon of his except maybe one or two. Didn't like a zaprifle squad sarge alongside nohow. Fella name of Raff Slocomb. Knew him from cadre. Ba.s.serd wunt drink around, wunt wh.o.r.e around, mean mean SOB if you follow. Gotta watch for Slocomb. SOB if you follow. Gotta watch for Slocomb.

Not too sure of the platoon leader too. Bad situ that, a good leader, he got confidence in the next layer too. An the next leader (platoon sarge was an ok, thank you) bein a shavetail just outen OCS. One of our boys no less sarge ponders (very thinky today wouldn't you say?), and he didn't like to toe too much for me. Mmm. Now he's platoon shavetail. Shavetail Snarp. Oak hay, will get on somehow.

Our sarge he lines up his men m inspexem good. Then alla board upside the starship Theodore Bilbo Theodore Bilbo. Everybody checked in, gear stowed, strapped down, ready for deeps.p.a.ce.

Supercold, superdense fuel flows from those big hairy b.a.l.l.s of the starship Theodore Bilbo Theodore Bilbo into painboxes. Molecules are energized, atoms are squeezed, electrons are sheared from their primaries, crammed m jammed m slammed, whammed m bammed, shaped, sc.r.a.ped, raped, nuclei ripped apart, smashed into one another, forces whirling and driving madly, something becoming something else, something less, part of that something becoming nothing, energy produced, screams out propulsion tubes crying to the echoing deaf cosmos for relief, release, dying in an attenuating blaze of hyperenergized exhaust, thrusting the into painboxes. Molecules are energized, atoms are squeezed, electrons are sheared from their primaries, crammed m jammed m slammed, whammed m bammed, shaped, sc.r.a.ped, raped, nuclei ripped apart, smashed into one another, forces whirling and driving madly, something becoming something else, something less, part of that something becoming nothing, energy produced, screams out propulsion tubes crying to the echoing deaf cosmos for relief, release, dying in an attenuating blaze of hyperenergized exhaust, thrusting the Bilbo Bilbo away from N'Alabama into the dark vacuum that surrounds Alquane, thrusting, heaving, hurling her upwards. away from N'Alabama into the dark vacuum that surrounds Alquane, thrusting, heaving, hurling her upwards.

Theodore Bilbo heads outward, outward, driven along the planetary plane away from Alquane, shuddering, screaming as she goes. heads outward, outward, driven along the planetary plane away from Alquane, shuddering, screaming as she goes.

This is propulsion by agonized matter.

On O'Earth furgem Jewrabs rule the world. Descendants of the citizens of that long-ago Federated Republic of Israel and Jordan ["Dinner in the diner, nothing could be finer, than to have your lox m eggs in Palestine," er, it was a big tourist attraction, that] that grew into a Pan-Semitic Empire, that Neo-Shem that spread and conquered and took. Growing population, lebensraum lebensraum the Jewrabs echoed some forgotten hack politico of earlier times. the Jewrabs echoed some forgotten hack politico of earlier times.

Great powers to stop 'em? Who?

The former United States of, uhh, where was that? Well, anyway, they quarreled too much with the old CCCP. Almost blue us all all up. Happily the old Third Force powers woolen stand 4 that, disbanded them mothers back into independent units. Nation of Iowa, say, inn't rilly 2 scarifying. Nor, oh, Mountain Badakhshan Autonomous Oblast. up. Happily the old Third Force powers woolen stand 4 that, disbanded them mothers back into independent units. Nation of Iowa, say, inn't rilly 2 scarifying. Nor, oh, Mountain Badakhshan Autonomous Oblast.

Czecho you can bet slovakia sure breathed easlier. Also Iceland. Who's afraid of the big bad Georgians (Murrican or or Sophie's wet)? Bunchezza farmers both. Sophie's wet)? Bunchezza farmers both.

Rest easy for a while. Neo-cla.s.sical Cathay no problem; Innier too busy feeding starving millions for far'n ventures; j.a.pan's new motto "Make money not enemies." Alla little guys rested easy for a while. Then the furgem Jewrabs took over. O'Earth, ta-ta.

Nameanwhile, howzabout colony worlds? Agonized matter goes fast.

No, you don't dig, man. Like, fast fast.

Like, think of what fast means to you. Now pretend that means slow. NOW slow. NOW what's fast mean? Oak hay? Now, what's fast mean? Oak hay? Now, that's that's slow. slow. Now Now what's fast? You still there? Still following? Oak hay, now you have some idea of what's agonized matter driven s.p.a.ceships fast. what's fast? You still there? Still following? Oak hay, now you have some idea of what's agonized matter driven s.p.a.ceships fast.

So: colony worlds. Nation can't feed its people, can't pave its streets, can't school its kids, can't medicate its sickies, can't solve its problems...can always do the prestige things. Once upon a time, could have a jet airline. Once upon a time could have nukie-bombs. Now: everybody who's anybody, he got agonized matter driven s.p.a.ceships. He got ships, what's he got next? Right! He got worlds.

So we got: N'Afghanistan, N'Albania, N'Andorra, N'Argentina, N'Australia, N'Austria, N'Belgium, N'Bhutan, N'Bolivia, N'Brazil, N'Bulgaria, N'Burma...yuwanna be bored, read an atlas. Also, we got N'Alabama, N'Alaska, N'Arizona, N'Arkansas and 49 more.

Also we got worlds colonized by religious nuts, diet faddists, hobbyists, political fanatics, sado-m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.ts, alcoholics, lotus-eaters and a few hundred other kinds of loonies. we got worlds colonized by religious nuts, diet faddists, hobbyists, political fanatics, sado-m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.ts, alcoholics, lotus-eaters and a few hundred other kinds of loonies. Also Also we had a few worlds colonized by h.o.m.os.e.xuals of both types, but they didn't breed true in captivity and they died out. we had a few worlds colonized by h.o.m.os.e.xuals of both types, but they didn't breed true in captivity and they died out.

Also we got colony worlds carrying on the electromagnanimous traditions of their ancestors including their loyalties and their hatreds. we got colony worlds carrying on the electromagnanimous traditions of their ancestors including their loyalties and their hatreds.

And when the furgem Jewrabs finally take over poor O'Earth en its tirely, them colony worlds is left on their own. With With agonized matter driven fast s.p.a.ceships. So N'Alabama hates N'Haiti? agonized matter driven fast s.p.a.ceships. So N'Alabama hates N'Haiti?

Our old sarge is on his way to war raght now!

5. Into the Exoneurobiology Section " 'M. Goncourt, we cannot obtain the technical and fiscal support required to effectuate specified mission parameters!' Merde! Merde!" shouted Goncourt, pounding his fist on the grimy wooden desk top. "n.o.body can get the support he needs, Trudeau! You know it and I know it. We're functioning in a bureaucracy and the trick is to do your job without the official backing you need. I I give you my support and I'm your chief. I don't want to hear that officialese double-talk. Let's save that for Antoine-Simone and the rest of the clods upstairs. Let's speak plainly to each other." give you my support and I'm your chief. I don't want to hear that officialese double-talk. Let's save that for Antoine-Simone and the rest of the clods upstairs. Let's speak plainly to each other."

Trudeau winced at Goncourt's outburst.

Goncourt said, "Well?"

Trudeau said, "I'm sorry, sir. I read and write so many tech reports that 'm afraid I'm beginning to talk like one. I take it you want it straight."

Goncourt grunted an affirmative. "I want a straight report on your specimen, and it had better be good. Manpower is breathing down Antoine-Simone's neck, and he has to produce on this boondoggle or he's in bad, bad trouble, eh? That means we we had better produce or we're had better produce or we're all all going to find out what the far side of La Gonave looks like." going to find out what the far side of La Gonave looks like."

Trudeau gestured with his brown hands to express his thoughts. "The specimen seems to be operating properly. The control organism has been implanted in a fully thawed composite cadaver. Healing is taking place at an encouraging rate. I think I can get a response to aural stimuli now."

Goncourt rose from behind his desk, took his subordinate by the arm and propelled him through the doorway of the office. "Good! Let us see what wonder you have wrought, Trudeau. We may yet come out on top of this thing."

The two officials pa.s.sed Goncourt's secretary, marched down drab corridors past frosted-gla.s.s lab windows and around corners. They paused before a door marked Exoneurobiology. Trudeau reached over and opened the door and they entered.

"Before viewing the specimen, M. Goncourt, I suggest that we view a film of the surgical procedures already followed." Trudeau rolled a screen down one wall, flicked a switch and the screen began to flicker. On it appeared an operating theater and surgical team. A rolling pallet was brought into the room, a sheet-covered form lifted from it onto an operating table. Throughout the scene the viewing room remained silent. When the sheet was drawn back a cadaver was revealed. The left arm and shoulder and half of the chest were missing, a jagged outline indicating the place where the body had been ripped apart.

Now the camera cut to the doorway of the room, showing another cart. As it was wheeled into position the scene cut back to the overhead view. The body already on the table now showed a clean edge in place of the former rags of flesh marking the extent of its wounds. "This is later, of course," Trudeau said. "The procedure takes several hours at present. That is one of the drawbacks that we hope to overcome with ma.s.s techniques."

Goncourt reached into a pocket in his sagging jacket, drew out a small pipe and charged it. "I want to see this fully," he said. Trudeau struck a match for him. Through blue-gray clouds the image continued to change.

"The second cadaver has been prepared as you see," said Trudeau. "The skin is contoured to match the extent of the first cadaver, with sufficient overlap to promote rapid growth. Internal organs are undivided-each is taken fully from one subject or the other." On the screen the two partial cadavers had been fitted together like parts of a jigsaw puzzle. Surgeons were adjusting bones, st.i.tching nerve and muscle connections, attaching blood vessels like plumbers matching water supplies. The camera cut, cut, indicating repeated time lapses.

Finally the obvious chief surgeon waved two a.s.sistants to the task of suturing the skin of the ma.s.sive pseudo-incision. After a few more minutes the screen became blank and Trudeau flicked on the room lights.

"Very well," Goncourt said, "a clever piece of surgery, a logical extension, however, of standard techniques."

"But the difference," Trudeau exclaimed, "the difference is that we are not merely moving a particular organ from a donor to a patient. We are actually combining parts of two nonviable cadavers to produce a complete individual."

"And he will live? He will function? Will this new patchwork man you have created be able to perform military duties? This is not an academic research grant, you know. We are supposed to contribute to the manpower problem, to the war effort."

Trudeau stood and looked Goncourt in the face. Goncourt's eyes were fixed on the bowl of his small pipe, which had gone out and which he was trying to puff back into life.

Trudeau said, "In the case of s.p.a.ce casualties, this surgery is insufficient. When they are wounded in battle, when they are mortally wounded, the wall of the ship and the protection of their s.p.a.ce suits both violated, the sudden vacuum and absolute cold produces a double effect."

Trudeau looked again at Goncourt. He had got his pipe going again, was looking into his subordinate's face with apparent rapt attention. Trudeau went on: "The sudden physiological effects are terrific. At zero-pressure the lungs are instantly exhausted. Vomiting and evacuation occur. The bladder empties. There is danger of damage to the eyes, ear drums, blood vessels, all pressure-sensitive organs.

"But simultaneously the body is plunged toward absolute zero. In vacuum there is of course no conduction cooling, but radiant dissipation occurs at a fantastic rate. Even before pressure damage occurs, the body is quick-frozen. That is how we can obtain cadavers in such good condition."

Trudeau stopped speaking as Goncourt waved him to silence.

Goncourt said, "All very well, but what of the central nervous system? Can the revived cadaver function?"

"Not independently. The shock of death does something to the individual-we do not fully understand it, although we have tried attaching graphic readout devices to various CNS points in subjects and obtained astonishing results. They are apparently conscious of sensory input and probably capable of essentially normal mentation, but no voluntary functions take place.

"For this reason we have experimented with the creatures from NGC 7007. They seem to have evolved extremely complex and sensitive nervous systems, widely distributed generalized sensors, and yet to be without will or resistance. Also, they are small enough to be implanted at the base of the brain. They acclimate quickly, attaching filaments into the spinal column and brain. The bloodstream provides nourishment.

"Because these organisms are constructed as they are, they can be used as master controls for the subjects. By implanting one in a subject's skull, we can revive him and use him as a quasi-automaton for military' or industrial duty."

"A quasi-automaton," Goncourt repeated. "Or a zombie." Goncourt sucked futilely at his pipe, knocked out its dead ashes and returned it to his pocket. He rose from his chair, said, "Very well, now let us see this laboratory wonder of yours."

In the next room the patchwork man lay on a hospital bed, breathing slowly. Clad only in pajama pants, the body showed its livid scar from neck to sternum, turning a neat ninety degrees to disappear behind the rib-cage. The flesh of the attached arm and shoulder was a different shade of brown from that of the rest of the body. From the temple of the still man an electrode fed a thin wire leading to a communication interface. A small computer, fed through the interface, controlled a graphic display screen, its surface a neutral green-gray across which moved sluggish waves of varying density.

At the footsteps of the two men the figure lying on the bed opened its eyes. The display screen flickered. On it appeared the forms of Goncourt and Trudeau. They were approaching the viewpoint from across a rolled-down bedsheet. Goncourt stopped, placed his arm in front of Trudeau to stop him. In the screen the figures seemed to advance an additional fraction of a step. The image fragmented, shuddered back into form to show them standing as they were.

"You see," Trudeau said.

From an audio device Trudeau's voice distortedly repeated, "You see..."

Trudeau stopped speaking. The device paused, then repeated a higher-pitched, "You see." Higher, "You see." Higher, "You see, you see-" Trudeau took quick steps, switched off the audio output.

"You see," he said again, "whatever the subject views or hears, we can read back out through the devices. We have a feedback problem with the audio, although there is no problem if we move the speaker to another room.

"At any rate," he continued, "sensory functioning is just the half of our achievement. Watch this."

He stood close by the hospital bed. "Raise your hand," he commanded the figure on the bed. It raised a hand. "Sit up!" The thing on the bed slid its legs over the edge of the mattress, pushed its torso upright with unmatched hands, waited.

"Stand," Trudeau said. The thing pushed itself off the bed, stood swaying beside it. On the graphic screen Goncourt could see himself, Trudeau, the room shifting back and forth as the dead-alive eyes moved.

"Enough," said Goncourt.

"Down," Trudeau commanded. Clumsily, the thing folded itself back onto the bed, guided by Trudeau's hands. When it was again supine the screen showed the ceiling of the room momentarily, then went back to gray-green as the eyelids slid shut.

Walking back to his own office, Goncourt said to Trudeau, "Very impressive. I'll have to strip someone else to do it, but I will get you some people and some money."

"Thank you," Trudeau said. "I'm sure this thing will work, sir."

"I'm sure it will," Goncourt replied. Completing the trip to his office alone, Goncourt again drew the pipe from his pocket.

6. Into the Great Hall Flip calendar pages.

Things happen.

Gordon Lester Wallace III (a sarge himself, you know) scuffs red dust dirt dragging drearily drawn-faced often the orderly office.-Okay, buddy,-he says to topper,-see you later.- Gordie-boy m iz pal Adam A. Aiken amble crossen reddish dusty sward of Fort Sealy Mae, Letohatchie Township, Independent Planet of N'Alabama, Eugene Youngerman, Governor, ambling aimlessly around toward the NCO Club, kickin pebbles, spittin casionally and hummin under their respective breaths the Fort Sealy Mae strictly unofficial alma mater.

Adam, he sed-Gord, wappenta Jimmie O? Jimmie O? Wuntcha poseta join the star fleet, go knock h.e.l.l outen them nigra pigs on N'Haiti?- Wuntcha poseta join the star fleet, go knock h.e.l.l outen them nigra pigs on N'Haiti?- Gord, he sed-Wuhmm-or approximately that, pickin up the taciturn speech habits of a certain friend of his who shall remain nameless (seen as how he's been that to this point).

Gord, hez not sech a bad gyrene you know, ef you like gyrenes, ef you don't then close yer eyes for a while and mebbe hill go away. With Adam A. Aiken. Least ways, Gordie been pickin up some of the speech patterns of his buddy that other guy and he don't say so much at first but Adam he persists-Well, Gordie, well? Off you go, now you're back, wappen? Big s.p.a.ce battle? Ja kill any nigras? Ja getta see N'Haiti? Ja getta f.u.c.k any nigra broads?- Gord, hez got that other guy's tendencies now but he don persist persist.-Wuhmm-that was a good answer but now Gord, he gives in, that's iz weakness, he gives in and he sez-Yeh, we went up, yeh the Jimmie O Jimmie O, and the rest, we seen some nigra ships, we seen some and we zapped some. They zapped us. Wir back.- Pretty good, Gordon Lester Wallace III. Not as good as that other fellow would do, but good.

Gord stops walkin and looks at the dirt (some gra.s.s too, some gra.s.s, not enough to keep a mowing crew busy much of the year but you know how manpower is on a gyrene post, all those guys around to keep busy and not much to do so maybe the topper senzem out to mow the dirt-you get on a dirt-mowing detail you think it's senseless never mind, just mow and keep your mouth quiet about it).

Gord don't say no more right now.

Adam A. Aiken he sez-We make out bad bad, Gord?- Gord he don't answer but take a look in his face now, look in his eyes they don't look so great.

Now Adam he presses, very very deftly.-Hah?-he sez.

Gord, he sez-It was pretty bad, Adam, I think we lost. Least, we broke off and come home. M now Ole Gene he called in all the friendly planets for that palaver over to Leto. You pull that guard detail too?- Adam sez yez.

They sprawl up the steps of the NCO Club and smarmily float inside the screen doors, find a table and set down.-Flipia 4 a Stonewall-sez Adam. Out of his grays comes a fine anglo-saxon-blooded hand holding a fifty-boll piece. He flips it in the air, it lands on the table top with a depressing clunk m spins a couple times there, flops over with a boll a cotton m a supered numeral 50 up.

Gordy triziz luck, gets a smiling portrait of some olden time fart looking up and goes to buy two foamies.

Good many foamies later, Gord m Adam they float smarmily back out through the doors of the NCO Club. One um belches m neither's sure which it was.

Two good purebred surn N'Alabamian s.p.a.cerine corps nonconditioned officers stumble m clutch at one another back to barracks and into sacks.

Whichever one belched before, t'other one does now so they even. That's good, n.o.body ahead n.o.body behind.

Lights off, eyes closed, snores m wheezes m N'Alabama whirls about that old axis.

Clock hands spin.

Alquane zaps brightness through screened stapagla.s.s windows Gordon needs no wakener bettern Alquane. He gets everybody up & eaten their breakfast & back to barracks & spat & polished & into pressed new grays & outside & a.s.sembled & lined up & counted off & dressed right & marched around & interposition & reported in.

Captain Cal Koberly commanding, everybody onto the bus & they head down the red rut road, gyros twirlin, into Leto.

Letohatchie Town Hall, meeting place of the interplanetary conference. Wow! Neo-neocla.s.sic architecture, gabled & porticoed, columned & terraced & stepped, & in front a (would you believe this, it's a test) Confederated Worm-morayeel, some old bearded jacka.s.s ridin an old hoa.r.s.e carrying an old flag into some old battle on some old planet who knows where or what for?

N'Alabama s.p.a.cerines line up making an honor guard, double ranks facing one another (sheee-eeet lookit that ugly ba.s.sur across from Gord!) all in fine old traditional grays with glistry bra.s.s b.u.t.tons & a crowd of rednecked townies (see that fat old fellow follow a filly fondly facing for a feelup) held back by town lookit that ugly ba.s.sur across from Gord!) all in fine old traditional grays with glistry bra.s.s b.u.t.tons & a crowd of rednecked townies (see that fat old fellow follow a filly fondly facing for a feelup) held back by town po po-leese.

Town po po-leese, madgin that! White crash helmets m glistry green oneway eyemurrs, chin straps so you can't swipt that old pretty helmet from that old, that pretty po po-leese boy. Sideburns m black leather jackets with studs spellin out patriotic mottoes (Rise Agin! No mongrelization! ((That's barely fits.)) Never! Lawnorder!...and other patriotic slogans) silver studs for troopers bra.s.s for sarges gold for bra.s.s.

t.i.te pants, real real t.i.te & big shiny boots, flying gloves & billy clubs & cans of insect repellant (or some something). Why, those boys can't even move without creaking.

Well cops to keep the redneck townies (in their civvies & a large but expectable proportion of plainb.u.t.ton warsurp grays) offen the gyrenes and the gyrenes to keep whoever in h.e.l.l offen the backs of the official plenipotentiary amba.s.sadorial representatives of the friendly friendly planets. planets.

First delegation rolls up in a siren-howlin jeescout gyrocar, red lights flashin, two-way radio cracklin & that jeescout slews round in the red dirt tween the Worm-morayeel & the Town Hall & the amba.s.sador de-mounts. Hez tall & pale wearn white flannel civvies & a broad-brim planter's hat & he waves t'the gyrenes & the town cops & the redneck townies & he starts up the steps follerd by couple flunkies dressed alike unto him & carryin a briefcase & some other stuff & scurryin about in his dust & up the steps they start 2.

Halfway up Town Hall doors open & out comes Mayor Milburn Mitchum & a couple his his flunkies looking summat fl.u.s.tered & Mayor he dances delightingly down the steps & seizes thamba.s.sador by the hand & turnin around he links up his arms like he prolly saw someone do it oncet in some ole newsclip & been thamba.s.sador clompin up the ole steps & in the doors & outen sight jes quick enough as the ole jeescout soops off through red dirt dust (don't they never think of them poor honor guards standing there stranglin?) along comes another siren-blastin light-blinkin howler-hootin hooter-howlin jeescout with another amba.s.sador & a couple more flunkies & it just keeps flunkies looking summat fl.u.s.tered & Mayor he dances delightingly down the steps & seizes thamba.s.sador by the hand & turnin around he links up his arms like he prolly saw someone do it oncet in some ole newsclip & been thamba.s.sador clompin up the ole steps & in the doors & outen sight jes quick enough as the ole jeescout soops off through red dirt dust (don't they never think of them poor honor guards standing there stranglin?) along comes another siren-blastin light-blinkin howler-hootin hooter-howlin jeescout with another amba.s.sador & a couple more flunkies & it just keeps up up like that, poor honor guards, poor town cops, seemin to be like all like that, poor honor guards, poor town cops, seemin to be like all morning morning till everybody's there in the Leto Town Hall there near unto the Confederated Worm-morayeel (unless you deciden you wunt till everybody's there in the Leto Town Hall there near unto the Confederated Worm-morayeel (unless you deciden you wunt bleeve bleeve that, it's your option, buddy) & then something else happens. that, it's your option, buddy) & then something else happens.

Firstall, Gord & t'other honor guards, they haven seed no sine nor cosine of their own own pure surn N'Alabamian planetary delegation septin for ole Mayor Milburn Mitchum m shee- pure surn N'Alabamian planetary delegation septin for ole Mayor Milburn Mitchum m shee-eet who pays any tention to who pays any tention to him him anyhow. Muss be they own delegation may been snuck in the back door r summin. Whose there, secastate, secawar, secacom, who knows mayen the Governor hisself (not so as to mention mayn't been some old senator from Talladega or someplace). anyhow. Muss be they own delegation may been snuck in the back door r summin. Whose there, secastate, secawar, secacom, who knows mayen the Governor hisself (not so as to mention mayn't been some old senator from Talladega or someplace).

Let ole Gord wonder about that, you, now, you just relax & follow along, okay?

Come on!

Last official plenipotentiary amba.s.sadorial representative delegation piles outen dust-churnin jeescout gyrocar (see that arready, right?) & marches up steps of Town Hall amba.s.sador arm-narm with Mayor Milburn Mitchum & into the Town Hall & the twin ranks of gray-uniformed shiny-bra.s.sed s.p.a.cerine honor guards starten to peel off from the farthest end two steps forward right angle turn & marchen to the old Letohatchie Town Hall themselves marchin now in a double line splittin at the base of the Confederated Worm-morayeel (maybe it's just a big outdoor garbage bin ef you'd ruther bleeve that) & up the old Town Hall steps to the double-doors & some civvy suburbs flunky opennin the doors form & they marchen right into the Hall & into the Great Hall meetin chamber & range theirselfs around the room (as rehea.r.s.ed-you weren't that) and standin at pray rest as honor guards (not to mention skeweritty) durin the meeting itself.

Which is very handy for Gordon Lester Wallace III ef he cares to hear what happens at the meeting, which who knows whether he does or not, hes just a s.p.a.cerine sarge doin his duty as he seen it, right? But maybe hez interested anyhow.

There's a speaker's table in the front & there's a man settin in't & a couple flunkies around him & facing the speaker's table's a bunch of leetle tables & chairs & things like that & every one's got somebody settin in't & they're all buzzin & burbling around & everybody looken pretty grim spitin' a casional laugh hearn there & each leetle table gotten a pitcher ont fulla some something & some gla.s.ses & there being a big one on the speaker's table & a gla.s.s for the fella settin there & some for his his flunkies & the poor s.p.a.cerine honor guards standing around the room, flunkies & the poor s.p.a.cerine honor guards standing around the room, they they dryeran all dryeran all h.e.l.l h.e.l.l & n.o.body gives them no drinks but then who's this meeting 4, the meeters or the greeters? & n.o.body gives them no drinks but then who's this meeting 4, the meeters or the greeters?