Avery went towards Tom. But Tom, despite a ten-foot drop and the wound in his shoulder, was already picking himself up.
‘Did you see that shot?’ he gasped.
‘For Christ’s sake! Are you hurt?’
‘Balls to that! Of course I’m hurt. I’ve still got a hole in my shoulder you could stick a cigar in. Let’s cry about it later…. Did you see the shot, Richard? I got the bastard plumb centre—threw myself overboard in the process, but it was worth it.’
He tried to put his weight on his left leg, and sat down suddenly with a yelp.
‘Now I’ve buggered myself at the other end, too…. Look at them, Richard. Look at the master race.’
Mary and Barbara were both calling down to them, talking together. But Tom didn’t seem to hear.
Avery followed his gaze along the shore. The golden people, the only two that were left now, were in full retreat. The man was half supporting the woman. They were limping along as fast as they could, expecting to be pursued, and hoping that they could reach the relative security of the trees.
Avery sighed. ‘Do you think I ought to ’
‘No,’ said Tom, magnanimous in victory. ‘Let the poor devils go. They’ve got problems. Somehow I don’t think they’ll be coming back. They’ve had too much pride knocked out of them…. You know, Richard,’ he moved his leg and winced. ‘It’s beginning to look like game, set and match.’
TWENTY-SIX
There was nothing but darkness.
There was nothing but darkness and the awful, infinite splendour of stars.
He came to a sun; and the sun had given birth to planets. One of the planets was blue and white with clouds, green with oceans, red and yellow with islands.
‘This,’ said the voice, ‘is home. This is the garden. This is the world where you will live and grow and understand. This is where you will discover enough but not too much. This is where fife is. It is yours.’
The voice was gentle, but it came echoing down a draughty tunnel of centuries. Its sound was thunder; and the thunder shook his sleeping mind.
Christine swam towards him through the stars. And the stars became the leaves of an English autumn, brown and gold.
Christine whispered: ‘Wherever you are, whatever you do, my dear one, I am part of it. You have made of our love something new. You have made it bright. You have given it freedom…. She, now, is the one. So hold her, and hold us both….’
He wanted to speak, but there were no words. Christine, remote and beautiful, dissolved in the steep canyons of darkness, gently like a snowflake, like a dying point of light—
Avery stirred, opened his eyes, gazed in the half light at Barbara sleeping tranquilly by his side.
Dear Barbara, he thought, warm and wonderful Barbara. Not Christine. Not greater than Christine, not lesser. Strangely not even other than Christine. Simply the one to hold. A woman and Woman….
He touched her face. He felt the contours and marvelled at the living flesh. He knew that he would always want to look at her like this, as if for the first time.
Then he remembered the golden people and Zleetri. He remembered the battle and the dead man whom he finally had to carry away for burial He and Barbara were enriched somehow by the memory of shared dangers—and of a private sadness that could never wholly be shared.
He sat up carefully, not wishing to disturb her. She needed to rest, for there had been much to endure— there still would be much to endure—and inside her there was a tiny cellular miracle, quietly growing like a hidden fruit.
He sat up, sniffed the air luxuriously and gazed through the doorway of the tent at the briefly mysterious world of pre-dawn. There were hardly any signs now of yesterday’s battle. The wreckage of the old tents—and one of the trunks that had been badly burned—had already been cleared away. It was almost as if the conflict might never have been…. He got out of bed and stretched himself. Then he dressed and went outside.
The camp was what it always was—a small, known, untidy, familiar place of refuge. A home and a sanctuary. A magic circle, redolent of cooking and companionship, of living and loving.
No one else was about, and Avery moved quietly. Tom and Mary had had the hardest time of all. He hoped they would be able to rest now. They needed to rest for quite a while.
Avery stood on the small rock that was Camp Two and gazed at his private kingdom, the island and the sea. A red sun was beginning to climb over the edge of the world. The sky was still and clear. It was going to be a fine day Another day to fill with the incomprehensible privilege of being alive….
The sea was flat and softly silvered by the growing light. He gazed idly towards the water’s edge. Then rubbed his eyes and looked again.
It was there.
It was still there.
On the shore, not far from the water line, not far from the rock, stood a small pedestal. It supported a machine that looked something like a compact and incredibly neat typewriter. The paper was already fed into it from an endless roll.
Avery had seen such a machine before. In another time and place. In a dream. In a situation that was of a greater stature than dreams, yet dictated by the same unreasonable logic, and with the same vivid compulsions.
A great bubble of excitement grew inside him. A bubble of excitement and tension. He scrambled down the ladder. As he did so, the typewriter that was not a typewriter began to print out its message.
Do not be alarmed, it said. The experiment has reached a satisfactory conclusion. It would be of value, however, to have the observations of the subjects.
Avery relaxed a little. The machine had lost none of its inscrutability. He was surprised to find suddenly that he was filled not with resentment—not even with fear—but with amusement.
He put his hand towards the keys. This subject, he tapped out, is nonplussed.
The machine retaliated. Please amplify.
Nonplussed, responded Avery, means perplexed, bewildered, mystified. The subject has all that and heaven, too.
Please clarify.
Why should I? You hardly set a good example yourself…
Please clarify. It is important.
Avery was beginning to enjoy himself. Only living is important, he tapped out. That is the conclusion the subject has drawn as a result of the experiment.
There was a pause. Then the machine continued. Are you happy?
Yes.
Are you healthy?
Yes.
Do you regret the experiment?
It was Avery’s turn to pause. Finally, he typed No.
Do you wish now to return to your natural habitat?
Suddenly Avery thought about the others. He turned towards the rock. Barbara was already up. She had just at that moment come out of the tent, and stood staring at him incredulously.
‘Sweetheart, get the others,’ he called. ‘Uncle has suddenly come to life again. He wants to know how we’re all getting along…. And, Barbara, he wants to know if we’d like to go home.’
Barbara recovered herself remarkably quickly. ‘I’ll get Tom and Mary,’ she shouted. ‘Tell Uncle not to disappear for a while. There are a few things I’d like to say to that little joker.’
Avery tapped out: Hold your horses. Everybody wants to exercise their democratic rights.