Or could he? What if he did believe it? Then what? What difference would it make? So miracles were wrought? So what? What did that have to do with John Carmody, who existed outside miracles, who would never rise again from the dead, who was determined, therefore, to make the most of what little this universe had to offer?
A little of good food, steaks and onions, a little of good Scotch, a little drunkenness so you could get a little closer but never close enough to the truth that you knew existed just on the other side of the walls of this hard universe, a little pleasure out of watching the pains and anxieties of other people and the stupid concerns they had over them when they could so easily be avoided, a little mockery, your greatest joy, actually, because it was only by laughing that you could tell the universe that you didn’t care—not a false mockery, because he did not care, cared nothing for what others seemed to value so desperately—a little laughter, and then the big sleep. The last laugh would be had by the universe, but John Carmody wouldn’t hear it, and so, you might say that he in reality had the last laugh, and...
At that moment he heard his name called by someone passing along the street. “Come on in, Tand!” Carmody shouted back in Kareenan. “I thought you’d gone to Sleep. You’re not going to take the Chance, are you?”
Tand offered him a native-made cigarette, lit one of his own, blew smoke through narrow nostrils, and replied, “I’ve a very important deal to finish. It may take some time to complete it. So—I’ll have to put off Sleeping as long as possible.”
“That’s strange,” said Carmody, mentally noting that Tand had answered him in terms as vague as possible. “I’ve heard that you Kareenans think only about ethics and the nature of the universe and improving your shining souls, not at all about dirty old money.”
Tand smiled. “We are no different than most peoples. We have our saints, our sinners, and our in-betweens. But we do seem to have a Galaxy-wide reputation, though quite a contradictory one. One depicts us as a race of ascetic and holy men; the other, as the most sensual and vile of so-called civilized people. And, of course, strange stories are told about us, largely because of the Night of Light. Whenever we travel to another planet, we find ourselves treated as something quite unique. Which I suppose we are, just as all peoples are.”
Carmody did not ask the nature of the important deal that was keeping Tand from going to Sleep at once. It would have been bad Kareenan form to do so. Over the glowing tip of his cigarette he studied him. The fellow was about six feet tall, handsome according to his own race’s standards. Like most intelligent beings of the Galaxy, he could pass for a member of Homo sapiens at a distance, his ancestors having evolved along lines parallel to those of Terrestrials. Only when he got closer could you see that his face, though manlike, was not quite human. And the feathery-looking hair and blue-tinged nails and teeth gave you a start when you first met a native of Dante’s Joy.
Tand wore a gray, brimless, conical headpiece like a fool’s cap, stuck jauntily onto one side; his hair was clipped quite close except just above the wolflike ears, where it fell straight down to cover them; his neck was encircled in a high lacy collar but his thigh- length, bright violet shirt was severe enough. A broad gray velvet belt gathered it in at the waist. His legs were bare, and his four-toed feet wore sandals.
Carmody had long suspected that the fellow was a member of the police force of this city of Rak. He always seemed to be around, and he had moved into the place that lodged Carmody the day after the Earthman had signed housepeace there.
Not that it mattered, thought Carmody. Even the police would be Sleeping in a day or so. “What about yourself?” asked Tand. “Are you still insistent on taking the Chance?”
Carmody nodded and shot Tand a confident smile.
“What were you chasing?” added Tand.
Suddenly, Carmody’s hands trembled, and he had to dig them in his pockets to hide them. His lips writhed in silent talk to himself.
Now, now, Carmody, none of this. You know nothing ever bothers you. But if that is so, why this shaking, this cold sickness in the dead center of your belly?
It was Tand’s turn to smile, exposing his humanly shaped but blue-tinged teeth.
“I caught a glimpse of that thing you were chasing so desperately. It was the beginnings of a face, whether Kareenian or Terrestrial, I couldn’t say. But since you doubtless conceived it, it must have been human.”
“Wh-what d’ya mean, conceived? I, Conceived...?”
“Oh, yes. You saw it form in the air in front of you, didn’t you?”
“Impossible!”
“No, nor fantastic. The phenomenon, though not common, does occur now and then. Usually, a change takes place in the body of the conceiver, not outside. Your problem must be extraordinarily strong, if this thing takes place outside you.”
“I have no problems I can’t whip,” growled Carmody out of one comer of his mouth, his cigarette bobbing from the other corner like a challenging rapier.
Tand shrugged. “Have it your own way. My only advice for you is to take a spaceship while there is still time. The last one leaves within four hours. After that, none will arrive or depart until the time for the Sleep is past. By then, who knows...?”
Carmody wondered if Tand was being ironic, if he knew that he could not leave Dante’s Joy, that he’d be arrested the moment he touched a Federation port.
He also wondered if Tand could have the slightest idea what he was planning as a means to leave Dante’s Joy in full safety. Now, having regained full control of his hands, he took them from his pockets and removed the cigarette from his mouth. Damn it, he said, silently mouthing the words, why are you hesitant, Carmody, old buddy? Lost your guts? No, not you. It’s you against the universe, as it has always been, and you’ve never been afraid. You either attack a problem, and destroy it, or else ignore it. But this is so strange you can’t seem to grapple with it. Well, so what? Wait until the strangeness wears off, then... BLAM! you’ve got it in your hands and you’ll rip it apart, choke the life out of it, just as you did with—
His hands clenched in memory of what they had done, and his lips stiffened into the beginning of a silent snarl. That face blowing through the air. Wasn’t there a resemblance... could it have been... No!
“You are asking me to believe the impossible,” he said. “I know that many strange things happen here on this planet, but what I saw, well, I just can’t think that—“
“I have seen you Earthmen before when confronted by this,” interrupted Tand. “To you it seems like something from one of your fairy tales or myths. Or, perhaps, from that incredible phenomenon you call a nightmare, which we Kareenans do not experience.”
“No,” said Carmody. “Your nightmares occur outside you, every seven years. And even then most of you escape them by Sleeping, while we human beings can’t encounter them except by means of sleeping.”
He paused, smiled his rapid, cold smile, and added, “But I am different from most Earthmen. I do not dream; I have no nightmares.”
“I understand,” replied Tand evenly and apparently without malice, “that that is because you differ from most of them—and us—in that you have no conscience. Most Earthmen, unless I have been misinformed about them, would suffer troublings of the mind if they had killed their wives in cold blood.”
The narrow walls of the booth thundered with Carmody’s laughter. Tand looked emotionlessly at him until he had subsided into chuckling, then said, “You laugh loud enough but not nearly so loud as that.”