Noon: 22nd Century Page 8

  “A parasite,” Lin said quickly. He could not express himself more strongly.

  “The three worst things are a coward, a liar, and a bully,” recited Athos. “Why do you ask, Teacher? We never have been, and we never will be.”

  “I know. But in the school it happens… sometimes.”

  “Who?” Pol jumped up. “Tell us, who?”

  The teacher hesitated. Actually, what he planned to do was foolish. To involve the boys in such a matter meant risking a good deal. They were hot-headed and could ruin everything. And Teacher Schein would be justified in saying something not very pleasant regarding Teacher Tenin. But he had to stop them and…

  “Walter Saronian,” the teacher said slowly. “But this is hearsay, boys. Everything has to be carefully verified.” He looked at them. Poor Walter! Knots of tension moved across the Captain’s cheeks. Lin was terrible to behold.

  “We’ll check it out,” Pol said, his eyes narrowing meanly. “We’ll be very careful.”

  Athos exchanged glances with the Captain. Poor Walter!

  “Let’s talk about volcanoes,” proposed the teacher. And he thought, It will be a little hard to talk about volcanoes. But I think I’ve hit on the natural thing to hold them back until dark. Poor Walter! Yes, they’ll verify everything very carefully, because the Captain doesn’t like to make mistakes. Then they’ll go looking for Walter. All that will take a lot of time. It’s hard to find a twelve-year-old after supper in a park that occupies four hundred hectares. They won’t leave until late evening. I’ve won my five hours, and… oh, my poor head! How are you going to cram in four books and a six-hundred-page plan?

  And Teacher Tenin started telling them how in eighty-two he had happened to take part in the extinguishing of the volcano Stromboli.

  They caught up with Walter Saronian in the park, by the pond. This was in one of the park’s most remote corners, where not every smallfry would venture, and therefore only a few knew about the pond’s existence. It was spring-fed, with dark deep water in which, fins moving, large yellow fish rested between the long green water-lily stems stretching up from the bottom. The local hunters called the fish bliamb, and shot them with homemade underwater rifles.

  Walter Saronian was stark naked except for a face mask. In his hands was an air pistol that shot jagged-edged darts, and on his feet were red and blue swim fins. He stood in a haughty pose, drying off, with his mask pushed up on his forehead.

  “We’ll get him wet for a start,” whispered Pol.

  The Captain nodded. Polly rustled the bushes and gave a quiet, low-pitched cough. Walter did exactly what any of them would have done in his place. He pulled the mask over his face and, wasting no time, dove without the least splash into the water. Slow ripples swept over the dark surface, and the water-lily leaves placidly rose and sunk a few times.

  “Pretty well done,” Lin remarked, and all four emerged from the bushes and stood on the bank, looking into the dark water.

  “He dives better than I do,” said the objective Pol, “but I wouldn’t want to trade places with him now.”

  They sat down on the bank. The waves dispersed, and the water-lily leaves grew still. The low sun shone through the pines. It was a bit close, and quiet.

  “Who’s going to do the talking?” inquired Athos.

  “I am,” Lin eagerly suggested.

  “Let me,” said Pol. “You can follow it up.”

  The gloomy Captain nodded. He did not like any of this. Night was approaching, and nothing was ready yet. They wouldn’t manage to get away today, that was for sure. Then he remembered Teacher’s kind eyes, and all desire to leave evaporated. Teacher had once told him, “All the worst in a human being begins with a lie.”

  “There he is!” Lin said in a low tone. “Swimming.”

  They sat in a semicircle by the water and waited. Walter swam beautifully and easily—he no longer had the pistol.

  “Hi, Eighteen,” he said as he was climbing out of the water. “You really snuck up on me.” He stopped knee-deep in the water and started to dry himself with his hands.

  Pol went first. “Happy sixteenth birthday,” he said warmly.

  Walter took off his mask and opened his eyes wide. “What?” he said.

  “Happy sixteenth birthday, old buddy,” Pol said still more affectionately.

  “Somehow I don’t quite understand you, Polly.” Walter smiled uncomfortably. “You always say such clever things,”

  “Right,” agreed the objective Pol. “I’m smarter than you. Besides, I read a whole lot more. And so?”

  “And so what?”

  “You didn’t say thank you,” Athos explained, taking up the lead. “We came to say happy birthday.”

  “What is this, guys?” Walter shifted his gaze from one to another, trying to make out what they wanted. His conscience was not clear, and he began to be wary. “What birthday? My birthday was a month ago, and I turned twelve, not sixteen.”

  “What?” Polly was very much surprised. “Then I don’t understand what this face mask is doing here.”

  “And the fins,” said Athos.

  “And the pistol you hid on the other bank,” said Lin, joining in again.

  “Twelve-year-olds can’t swim underwater by themselves,” the Captain said angrily.

  “Well, well!” Walter swelled up with contempt. “So you’re going to tell my teacher?”

  “What a nasty little boy!” exclaimed Pol, turning toward the Captain. The Captain did not deny it. “He means that he would rat if he caught me like that. Eh? So he’s not just a rulebreaker, he’s a—”

  “Rules, rules,” muttered Walter. “Haven’t you ever gone hunting under water? Just think, I shot a bunch of bliamb.”

  “Yes, we’ve gone hunting,” said Athos. “But always the four of us. Never alone. And we always tell Teacher about it. And he trusts us.”

  “You lie to your teacher,” said Pol. “That means you could lie to anyone, Walter. But I like the way you’re trying to make excuses.”

  The Captain narrowed his eyes. The good old formula—it cut him to pieces now: “Lie to teacher, lie to anyone.” It was stupid getting involved this way with Walter. Perfectly stupid. We have no right…

  Walter was very uncomfortable. He said plaintively, “Let me get dressed, guys. It’s cold. And… it’s none of your business. It’s my business, and my teacher’s. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

  The Captain parted his lips. “He’s right, Polly. And he’s already softened up-he’s making up excuses.”

  Pol pompously agreed: “Oh, yes, he’s ready. His conscience is flickering. This was a psychological study, Walter. I really like studies in psychology.”

  “You and your bunch can clear out!” Walter muttered, and tried to get to his clothes.

  “Quiet!” said Athos. “Don’t be in such a hurry. That was the pre-am-ble. And now the amble begins.”

  “Let me,” said the mighty Lin, standing up.

  “No, no, Lin,” said Pol. “Don’t. It’s vulgar. He won’t understand.”

  “He’ll understand,” Lin promised. “He’ll understand me all right.”

  Walter jumped nimbly into the water. “Four against one!” he shouted. “Conscience? Screw you!”

  Pol jumped up and down with rage. “Four against one!” he yelled. “That smallfry Valka was four times weaker than you. No, five times, six times! But you knocked the daylights out of him, you lousy pig! You could’ve found Lin or the Captain if your paws were itching!”

  Walter was pale. He had fastened his face mask, but he had not pulled it down, and now he was looking around distractedly, seeking a way out. He was cold. And he understood.

  “Shame on you, Walter!” said the majestic Athos. “I think you’re a coward. Shame on you. Come on out. You can fight us one at a time.”

  Walter hesitated, then came out. He knew what it was to fight Room 18, but still he came out and took up a stance. He felt that he had to settle up, and he realized that this
was the best way to do it. Athos pulled his shirt over his head unhurriedly.

  “Hold it!” yelled Pol. “It’ll leave bruises! And we have something else to do!”

  “Let me do it,” requested the mighty Lin. “I’ll be quick.”

  “No!” Pol quickly started undressing. “Walter! Do you know what the worst thing in the world is? I’ll remind you—to be a coward, a liar, or a bully. You’re not a coward, thank God, but you’ve forgotten the rest of it. And I want you to remember for a long time. I’m coming in, Walter. Repeat the magic words.”

  He gathered up Walter’s clothes, which were lying in the bushes, and jumped into the water.

  Walter watched him helplessly, and Athos started bounding exultantly along the shore. “Polly!” he shouted. “Polly, you’re a genius! Walter, how come you’re not saying anything? Say it, say it, gorilla: a liar, a coward, or a bully.”

  The Captain gloomily kept track of Polly, who was dog-paddling, making a tremendous noise, and leaving a foamy trail behind him. Yes, Polly was as clever as ever. The opposite shore was overgrown with stinging nettles, and Walter could search there naked for his pants and such. In the dark, for the sun was setting. That’s just what he needs. But who’s going to punish us? We’re no angels ourselves—we’re liars. That’s not much better than being a bully.

  Polly came back. Gasping and spitting, he climbed onto the bank and immediately said, “There you are, Walter. Go and get dressed, gorilla. I don’t swim as well as you, and I don’t dive as well, but I wouldn’t like to trade places with you now!”

  Walter did not look at him. He silently pulled the mask over his face and got into the warm, steaming water. Before him was the bank with the stinging nettles.

  “Remember!” Pol shouted after him. “A coward, a liar, or a bully. A bully, Walter! There’s nothing worse than that. The nettles’ll help out your bad memory.”

  “Right,” said Athos. “Get dressed, Lieber Polly. You’ll catch cold.”

  They could hear Walter on the opposite shore, hissing with pain through his teeth as he pushed through the thickets.

  When they got back home to Room 18, it was already late evening—after Walter’s chastisement, Lin had proposed that they play Pandora to relax, and Pandora was played with great gusto. Athos, Lin, and the Captain were hunters, and Polly the giant crayspider, while the park was the Pandoran jungle—impenetrable, marshy, and terrifying. The moon, which showed up at just the right time, played EN 9, one of Pandora’s suns. They played until the giant crayspider, leaping from a tree onto Lin the hunter, tore his superdurable tetraconethylene pants down their entire length. Then they had to go home. They did not want to disturb the housefather, and the Captain was about to propose that they go in through the garbage chute (a magnificent idea that flashed like lightning through his gloomy ruminations), but then decided to take advantage of a humble workshop window.

  They came into Room 18 noisily, discussing on the run the dazzling prospects opening up in connection with the idea of the garbage chute, and then they saw Teacher sitting at Athos’s desk with a book in his hands.

  “I ripped my pants,” Pol said in confusion. Naturally he forgot to say good evening.

  “Really!” exclaimed the teacher. “Tetraconethylene?”

  “Uh-huh.” Pol basked in his glory.

  Lin grew green with envy.

  “But boys,” said the teacher, “I don’t know how to mend them!”

  The crew began to yell with triumph. They all knew how. They all thirsted to demonstrate, to talk and to do the repair.

  “Go ahead,” the teacher agreed. “But Navigator Sidorov will fix not the pants, but the transparancy system. Fate is cruel to him.”

  “Great galaxies!” said Athos. He could hardly reconcile himself to it.

  Everyone got busy, including the Captain. For some reason he felt happy. We won’t leave tomorrow, he thought. We’ll stay a little longer and make plans. The idea of running away no longer seemed so attractive to him, but he could not very well let six weeks of study go for nothing.

  “There are remarkable and interesting problems,” Teacher told them, deftly wielding the high-frequency nozzle. “There are problems as great as the world. But there are also problems that are small but extremely interesting. A few days back I was reading an old, old book—very interesting. One thing it said was that up to that time the problem of ignis fatuus had never been solved—you know, the will-o’-the-wisp, in swamps? It was clear that it was some sort of chemiluminescent substance, but what? Phosphorus trisulphide, for example? I linked up with the Informatoreum, and what do you think? That riddle isn’t solved even today!”

  “Why not?”

  “The fact is that it’s very hard to catch this ignis fatuus. Like Truth, it flickers in the distance and refuses to be apprehended. Lepelier tried to construct a cybernetic system to hunt it down, but nothing came of it.”

  Teacher Tenin’s head ached unbearably. He felt awful. In the past four hours he had read and mastered four books on atmosphere regeneration, and had memorized the Venus plan. He had been forced to resort to the hypnoteacher for this, and after the hypnoteacher it was absolutely essential to lie down and sleep it off. But he couldn’t. Perhaps he should not have overloaded his brain that way, but the teacher did not want to take chances. He had to know ten times more about Venus and about the project than the four of them put together. Otherwise his plan wasn’t worth wasting time on.

  Waiting for the moment to turn to the attack, he told them about the search for ignis fatuus, and he saw their childish eyes open wide, and saw the flame of great imagination writhe and flare in them, and as always it felt surprisingly gladdening and good to see this, even though his head was splitting into pieces.

  But the boys were already sloshing through a marsh, wearing real, entrancing swamp boots, and around them were night, darkness, fog, and mysterious thickets; and from the depths of the swamp rushed clouds of repulsive exhalations, and it was very dangerous and frightening, but you mustn’t be afraid. In front flickered the bluish tongues of ignis fatuus, whose secret—as was now clear—it was vital to discover, and on the chest of each of the hunters hung a miniaturized control for the trusty agile cybers who were stumbling through the quagmire. And these cybers had to be invented quickly, immediately, or else the last swamps would be drained and everyone would be left looking like fools.

  By the time that the pants and the transparency system had been put into shape, no one cared any more about either. Pol was musing on a poem to be called “Will o’ the Wisp,” and while pulling on his pants he uttered the first line to flow out of him: “Mark! In the dark—The swampfire’s glimmering spark!” The Captain and Athos, independently of each other, cogitated upon the design of a swamp cyber suitable for rapid locomotion through marshy regions, and reacting to chemiluminescence. Lin simply sat with his mouth open and thought, Where were my eyes? How about that! He firmly resolved to devote the rest of his life to swamps.

  The teacher thought, It’s time. Just so I don’t force them to lie or dissemble. Forward, Tenin! And he began, “Speaking of diagrams, Captain Komov, what is this misshapen thing?” He tapped the diagram of the extractor with his finger. “You distress me, lad. The idea is good, but the execution is highly unsuccessful.”

  The Captain flared up and rushed into battle.

  At midnight Teacher Tenin came out into the park and stopped by his pterocar. The enormous flat block of the school lay before him. All the windows on the first floor were dark, but above, some lights were still on. There was light in Room 20, where the five noted scoffers must be having a discussion with their teacher Sergei Tomakov, a former doctor. There was light in Room 107, where shadows were moving and it was clear that somebody was hitting somebody else over the head with a pillow, and intended to go on hitting him until the inaudible and invisible stream of infrarays forced even the most restless to go to sleep, which would happen in two minutes. There was light in many of the rooms of t
he oldest pupils—they were working on problems a little more important than ignis fatuus or how to put back together a torn pair of tetraconethylene pants. And there was light in Room 18.

  The teacher got into the pterocar and began to watch the familiar window. His head raged on. He wanted to lie down and close his eyes, and put something cold and heavy on his forehead. Well, my boys, he thought. Have I really stopped you? Oh, how hard it is, what a burden. And I’m not always sure whether I’m right, but in the end I’ve always turned out to be. And how remarkable that is, and how wonderful, and I couldn’t live without it.

  The light in Room 18 went out. So he could go to sleep. He felt sleepy, but also sorry. I probably didn’t tell them everything I could have and should have. No, I did too. I wish it were morning! I feel bored without them, and lonely. Crummy little kids! Teacher Tenin smiled and turned on the engine. He wished it were morning.

  In Room 18, courageously fighting off sleep, the Captain was delivering a speech. The crew kept silent.

  “Disgraceful! Showed up everyone! You lousy spongers! You miserable collection of slowboats and ignoramuses! What have you been doing for forty days? You, Lin? Shame on you! Not one intelligent answer.”

  Athos, playing with the transparency controls, muttered, “Cut the nagging, Captain! You’re one to talk—out of five questions you missed four. And on the fifth—”

  “What do you mean, out of five—”

  “Don’t argue, Captain, I counted.”

  If Athos said he had counted, that was it. Good grief, how disgraceful! The Captain screwed his eyes up to the point where he saw spots before his eyes. Operation October had failed. Had collapsed disgracefully. You couldn’t storm Venus with this bunch of ignoramuses. No one had understood anything or learned anything. How much there was to cram about atmospheric assemblies, damn it all! We’re not ready to go anywhere. The great colonists from Room 18—ha!

  But Walter had really gotten his. Should they hand out some more? No, that was enough. And enough of all this nonsense in general. It was time to think about ignis fatuus.