*
* * *
*
He was
standing on a steep hillside, looking down across a sweep of meadow to a plain
far below. There were clumps of trees, and a river.
In the
distance a herd of animals grazed among low shrubbery. No road wound along the
valley floor; no boats dotted the river; no village nestled at its bend. The
far hills were innocent of trails, fences, houses, the rectangles of plowed
acres. There were no contrails in the wide blue sky. No vagrant aroma of
exhaust fumes, no mutter of internal combustion, no tin cans, no pop
bottles--
In short, no
people.
Dan turned.
The Portal still shimmered faintly in the bright air. He thrust his head
through, found himself staring into the locker room.
The
yellow-clad Neanderthaloid glanced at him.
"Say,"
Dan said, ignoring the sensation of a hot wire around his neck, "can't we
talk this thing over?"
"Better
get your head out of there before it shuts down," the guard said
cheerfully. "Otherwise--ssskkkttt!"
"What
about some reading matter? And look, I get these head colds. Does the
temperature drop here at night? Any dangerous animals? What do I eat?"
"Here,"
the guard reached into a hopper, took out a handful of pamphlets. "These
are supposed to be for guys that are relocated without prejudice. You know,
poor slobs that just happened to see too much; but I'll let you have one. Let's
see ... Anglic, Anglic...." He selected one, handed it to Dan.
"Thanks."
"Better
get clear."
Dan withdrew
his head. He sat down on the grass and looked over the booklet. It was
handsomely printed in gay colors. WELCOME TO RELOCATION CENTER NO. 23 said the
cover. Below the heading was a photo of a group of sullen-looking creatures of
varying heights and degrees of hairiness wearing paper hats. The caption
read: New-comers Are Welcomed Into a Gay
Round of Social Activity. Hi, New-comer!
Dan opened
the book. A photo showed a scene identical to the one before him, except that
in place of the meadow, there was a park-like expanse of lawn, dotted with
rambling buildings with long porches lined with rockers. There were picnic
tables under spreading trees, and beyond, on the river, a yacht basin crowded
with canoes and row-boats.
"Life In a Community Center is Grand
Fun!" Dan read. "Activities!
Brownies, Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Sea Scouts, Tree Scouts, Cave Scouts, PTA, Shriners, Bear
Cult, Rotary, Daughters of the
Eastern Star, Mothers of the Big Banana, Dianetics--you name it! A Group for Everyone, and Everyone in
a Group!
Classes in conversational Urdu, Sprotch,
Yiddish, Gaelic, Fundu, etc; knot-tying, rug-hooking, leather-work, Greek
Dancing, finger-painting and many, many others!
Little Theatre!
Indian Dance Pageants!
Round Table Discussions!
Town Meetings!
Dan thumbed
on through the pages of emphatic print, stopped at a double-page spread
labeled, A Few Do's and Don'ts.
* All of us want to make a GO of relocation.
So--let's remember the Uranium
Rule: Don't Do It! The Other Guy May Be Bigger!
* Remember the Other Fellow's Taboos!
What to you might be merely a wholesome
picnic or mating bee may offend
others. What some are used to doing in groups, others consider a solitary activity. Most
taboos have to do with eating, sex,
elimination or gods; so remember look before you sit down, lie down, squat down or kneel down!
* Ladies With Beards Please Note:
Friend husband may be on the crew
clearing clogged drains—so watch
that shedding in the lavatories, eh, girls? And you fellas, too! Sure, good
grooming pays--but groom each other out in the open, okay?
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