"But are the emotional and informational connotations approximately correct?" the captain asked.
"I'm afraid so," Marv said unhappily.
"Then it looks like we got a problem on our hands. My first impression is that this alien is unfriendly."
"That's my impression, too," Marv said unhappily. "Sir, I think he's waiting for an answer."
"I'll give him one," the captain said, and turned on the microphone. Angry words boiled up in his mind like gas expanding according to Boyle's Law. But he forced himself to activate the Martins-Turner Interpersonal Equations, which were part of the hypno-training of every human beyond Intelligence Level IV. Instantly, the captain was icy calm and capable of objective judgment. He thought, I have heard words which may or may not represent an objective reality. In any event I will not respond emotionally but will try (a) to deal objectively with the situation and (b) to manipulate it (if possible) to the needs of Earth and mankind.
Thank God for Korzybski! the captain thought. He said into the microphone, "Greetings, Thanatos Superbum. I am in command of this ship. My name is McRoy. I am friendly and peaceable, as are all of my race. I want to make nice with you, and I sincerely hope that you want to make nice with me."
"Blood, sweat, and sneers!" exclaimed Superbum. "I smell the blood of an Americun! To hell with making nice — not peace but a sword! Let one claw scratch the other. L'audace, toujours l'audace. If at first they don't succumb, trumb, trumb agun."
"Even allowing for anachronism-generating analogies," the captain said, "this fellow sounds mean, hysterical, and full of trouble." The captain turned on the microphone and asked Superbum if things couldn't be settled peacefully.
"Peace is for Commie fags," sneered the alien. "But I will make an offer. You may choose to be annihilated at once by the inconceivable force of our deadly ray guns, after which our space fleet will destroy your space fleet, after which we will conquer Earth and implant special radio circuits in the brains of all humans thus rendering them our slaves and subject to various fates worse than death; or you can choose the other alternative."
"Which is?"
"Just about the same thing, only we will be nicer about it if you don't resist."
"Both choices are unacceptable," Captain McRoy said grimly.
"Then I can only say, watch yourself, break clean in the clinches, and may the best sentient creature win, and guard yourself at all times, stranger, 'cause me and the boys aim to purely kick the shit out of yore bunch and we ain't pertekeler about how we go about it."
The captain signed off and grimly ordered his men to action stations. He mentally adjusted his skin temperature and adrenalin rate, for he had a feeling that this was going to be a time of hard testing.
24. Another Level Heard From
In a place whose location cannot be expressed in space-time equivalencies three beings met. For the purpose of the meeting, they had taken on terraform appearance, though this was not «normal» for any of them. The leader, acknowledged by ethical development, called himself Ka for purposes of reference. A faint nimbus glowed around his heroic body and magnificently sculptured head.
"There is no need to explain anything," Ka said. "All of us gathered here know that the spacefleets of Earth and Superbum have been destined to clash according to the immutable laws of dualism. We also know that Earth represents a lot of good things that we approve of, whereas Superbum is an incarnate process of evil and a really bad thing.
I think that it is superfluous to mention that it is vital for our own interests that Earth wins this battle. We are also aware that, as matters stand at present and without our intervention, Earth stands very little chance indeed. Are we all agreed that we need not discuss these matters?"
The other two beings signified their assent. One of them, De-Ao, said, "I also agree that we need not discuss what is obvious to us. Therefore, the only question that remains is what form our intervention should take and at what moment it should occur."
The third being, Maening, said, "My analysis agrees with the previously stated analyses. There remains only the question of what we should do, and when, which I need not state since it has been both inferred and stated."
"I am afraid," said Ka, "that we must not permit ourselves to assist Earth in any way."
The two looked at him in consternation.
"Earth must stand on its own," said Ka, "for reasons which become apparent to you if you take a moment to do some tenth level Fournean rationalizing."
The others did so and came up with an answer identical to Ka's.
"It is a heavy result," said Maening.
25. The Emergency Supply Service
"We supply what you need when you need it," Mr Monitor said.
"That is exactly the kind of service I need," said Mishkin.
"Of course you do. Everybody does. In today's world of increasing complications it's really too much to expect people to solve their own problems. They wouldn't have time left to do anything else. People should do their thing. Our thing is supplying what is needed to solve other people's problems. Your thing is presumably something else. We do our thing and you are able to do your thing. That leaves everybody happy."
"It sounds too good to be true," Mishkin said.
"It is," Mr Monitor said.
"The thing I need," Mishkin said, "is a spare engine part, number L-1223A."
"To hear is to obey. Are you prepared to pay for this thing?"
"Charge it to my account."
"You are a customer after my own heart. One spare engine part number L-1223A, coming up."
Mr Monitor showed Mishkin his write-ups in The New York Times, New York Magazine, and the Village Voice. All of them were raves. What better recommendations could anyone ask? Mr Monitor departed.
Mishkin sat down on a stump and waited. After a few hours he heard the noise of a motorcycle. He saw a man in a fringed leather jacket and a chamois beanie come riding through the forest. Strapped to the back of the motorcycle was a large parcel.
Fifty yards from Mishkin the motorcyclist ran across a land mine. The man, the cycle, and the package were blown to bits.
"Easy come, easy go," Mishkin said.
26
Mishkin was clowning along through the forest, digging the sights and smells and sounds, feeling the air, really making it big in a spiritual way. He had a song without words on his lips, and his fingers snapped in time to inconceivable rhythms. It was in this mood that he came across a man leaning against a tree.
The man's eyes were closed. He didn't seem to be breathing, but he didn't seem to be dead, either. His chest was bare and there was a small bronze plaque on it. The plaque read, TURN ME ON. Above it was a toggle switch.
Mishkin turned the switch.
The man's eyes opened immediately. He clutched his forehead and swayed out of control and would have fallen if Mishkin had not caught him and lowered him gently to the ground.
"Thank you, dear sir," the man said. "My name is perhaps Alex Gonkin and I am much obliged to you; though perhaps it would have been better if you had left me turned off, for now, with my consciousness returned, my fear threatens to overthrow the precarious sanity of my mind."
"What seems to be the trouble?" Mishkin asked.
"I heard the voice that said, 'In order to kill him, we must kill all of his hims.' I saw at once that the secret of survival was to conceal the fact that one's self was many. This could be called the first line of defence. The second line of defence was the presence of the selves and their intercommunication. I knew at once that my selves had to be killed simultaneously, or as near to simultaneity as possible, to prevent my selves from learning what was happening and taking appropriate defensive action. Do you follow me?"