Magic, Eldon thought. What Pat said; the phoces can do that in compensation for not having been born with arms or legs, it’s nature’s way of helping them survive. Again the coin slid toward the ‘mobile and again the people in the Foresters’ Hall applauded.
To Mrs. Raub, Eldon said, “He does this every night?”
“No,” she answered. “He does various tricks; I’ve never seen this one before, but of course I’m not always here—I have so much to do, helping to keep our community functioning. It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”
Action at a distance, Eldon realized. Yes, it is remarkable. And we must have him, he said to himself. No doubt of it now. For when Walt Dangerfield dies—and it is becoming obvious that he will, soon—we would have this memory of him, this reconstruction, embodied in this phoce. Like a phonograph record, to be played back forever.
“Does he frighten you?” June Raub asked.
“No,” Eldon said. “Should he?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a thoughtful voice.
“Has he ever transmitted to the satellite?” Eldon asked. “A lot of other handles have. Odd he hasn’t, with his ability.”
June Raub said, “He intended to. Last year he started building a transmitter; he’s been working on it off and on, but evidently nothing came of it. He tries all sorts of projects… he’s always busy. You can see the tower. Come outside a minute and I’ll show you.”
He followed her to the door of the Foresters’ Hall. Together, they stood outside in the darkness until they were able to see. Yes, there it was, a peculiar, crooked mast, rising up into the night sky but then brealdng off abruptly.
“That’s his house,” June Raub said. “It’s on his roof. And he did it without any help from us; he can amplify the impulses from his brain into what he calls his servo-assists, and that way he’s quite strong, much more so than any unfunny man.” She was silent a moment “We all admire him. He’s done a lot for us.”
“Yes,” Eldon said.
“You came here to nap him away from us,” June Raub said quietly. “Didn’t you?”
Startled, he protested, “No, Mrs. Raub—honest, we came to listen to the satellite; you know that.”
“It’s been tried before,” Mrs. Raub said. “You can’t nap him because he won’t let you. He doesn’t like your community down there; he knows about your ordinance. We have no such discrimination up here and he’s grateful for that, He’s very sensitive about himself.”
Disconcerted, Eldon Blaine moved away from the woman, back toward the door of the Hall.
“Wait,” Mrs. Raub said. “You don’t have to worry: I won’t say anything to anyone. I don’t blame you for seeing him and wanting him for your own community. You know, he wasn’t born here in West Marin. One day, about three years ago, he came rolling into town on his ‘mobile, not this one but the older one the Government built before the Emergency. He had rolled all the way up from San Francisco, he told us. He wanted to find a place where he could settle down, and no one had given him that, up until us.”
“Okay,” Eldon murmured. “I understand.”
“Everything nowadays can be napped,” Mrs. Raub said. “All it take is sufficient force. I saw your police-cart parked down the road, and I know that the two men with you are on your police force. But floppy does what he wants. I think if you tried to coerce him he’d kill you it wouldn’t be much trouble for him and he wouldn’t mind.”
After a pause Eldon said, “I—appreciate your candor.”
Together, silently, they re-entered the Foresters’ Hall.
All eyes were on Hoppy Harrington, who was still immersed in his imitation of Dangerfield. “… it seems to go away when I eat,” the phocomelus was saying, “And that makes me think it’s an ulcer, not my heart. So if any doctors are listening and they have access to a transmitter—”
A man in the audience interrupted, “I’m going to get hold of my doctor in San Rafael; I’m not kidding when I say that. We can’t have another dead man circling around and around the Earth.” It was the same man who had spoken before; he sounded even more earnest now. “Or if as Mrs. Rab says it’s just in his mind, couldn’t we get Doc Stockstill to help him?”
Eldon Blaine thought, But Hoppy was not here in the Hall when Dangerfield said those words. How can he mimic something he did not hear?
And then he understood. It was obvious. The phocomelus had a radio receiver at his house; before coming to the Foresters’ Hall he had sat by himself in his house, listening to the satellite. That meant there were two functioning radios in West Marin, compared to none at all in Bolinas. Eldon felt rage and despair. We have nothing, he realized. And these people here have everything, even an extra, private radio set, for just one person alone.
It’s like before the war, he thought blindly. They’re living as good as then. It isn’t fair.
Turning, he plunged back out of the Hall, into the night darkness. No one noticed him; they did not care. They were far too busy arguing about Dangerfield and his health to pay attention to anything else.
Coming up the road, carrying a kerosene lantern, three figures confronted him: a tall, skinny man, a young woman with dank red hair, and between them a small girl.
“Is the reading over?” the woman asked. “Are we too late?”
“I don’t know,” Eldon said, and continued on past them.
“Oh, we missed it,” the little girl was clamoring. “I told you we should have hurried!”
“Well, we’ll go on inside anyhow,” the man told her, and then their voices faded away as Eldon Blaine, despairing, continued on into the darkness, away from the sounds and presence of other people, of the wealthy West Mariners who had so much.
Hoppy Harrington, doing his imitation of Dangerfield, glanced up to see the Kellers, with their little girl, enter the room and take seats in the rear. About time, he said to himself, glad of a greater audience. But then he felt nervous, because the little girl was scrutinizing him. There was something in the way she looked at him that upset him; it had always been so, about Edie. He did not like it, and he ceased suddenly.
“Go ahead, Hoppy,” Cas Stone called.
“Go on,” other voices chimed in.
“Do that one about Kool Aid,” a woman called. “Sing that, the little tune the Kool Aid twins sing; you know.”
“‘Kool Aid, Kool Aid, can’t wait,’” Hoppy sang, but once more he stopped. “I guess that’s enough for tonight,” he said.
The room became silent.
“My brother,” the little Keller girl spoke up, “he says that Mr. Dangerfield is somewhere in this room.”
Hoppy laughed. “That’s right,” he said excitedly.
“Has he done the reading?” Edie Keller asked.
“Oh yeah, the reading’s over,” Earl Colvig said, “but we weren’t listening to that; we’re listening to floppy and watching what he does. He did a lot of funny things tonight, didn’t you, Hoppy?”
“Show the little girl that with the coin,” June Raub said. “I think she’d enjoy that.”
“Yes, do that again,” the pharmacist called from his seat. “That was good; we’d all like to see that again, I’m sure,” In his eagerness to watch he rose to his feet, forgetting the people behind him.
“My brother,” Edie said quietly, “wants to hear the reading. That’s what he came for. He doesn’t care about anything with a coin.”
“Be still,” Bonny said to her.
Brother, Hoppy thought. She doesn’t have any brother. He laughed out loud at that, and several people in the audience automatically smiled. “Your brother?” he said, wheeling his ‘mobile toward the child. “Your brother?” He halted the ‘mobile directly before her, still laughing. “I can do the reading,” he said. “I can be Philip and Mildred and everybody in the book; I can be Dangerfield—sometimes I actually am. I was tonight and that’s why your brother thinks Dangerfield’s in the room. What it is, it’s me.” He looked around at the people. “Isn’t that right, folks? Isn’t it actually Hoppy?”