[Illustration] The Servant Problem Selling a whole town, and doing it inconspicuously, can be a little difficult . . . Either giving it away freely, or in a more normal sense of "selling". People don't quite believe it. . . . by Robert J. Young Illustrated by Schoenherr [Illustration] If you have ever lived in a small town, you have seen Francis Pfleuger, and probably you have sent him after sky-hooks, left-handedmonkey-wrenches and pails of steam, and laughed uproariously behind hisback when he set forth to do your bidding. The Francis Pfleugers of theworld have inspired both fun and laughter for generations out of mind. The Francis Pfleuger we are concerned with here lived in a small townnamed Valleyview, and in addition to suffering the distinction of beingthe village idiot, he also suffered the distinction of being the villageinventor. These two distinctions frequently go hand in hand, and afford, in their incongruous togetherness, an even greater inspiration for funand laughter. For in this advanced age of streamlined electric canopeners and sleek pop-up toasters, who but the most naïve among us canfail to be titillated by the thought of a buck-toothed, wall-eyed moronbuilding Rube Goldberg contrivances in his basement? The Francis Pfleuger we are concerned with did his inventing in hiskitchen rather than in his basement; nevertheless, his machines were inthe Rube Goldberg tradition. Take the one he was assembling now, forexample. It stood on the kitchen table, and its various attachmentsjutted this way and that with no apparent rhyme or reason. In its centerthere was a transparent globe that looked like an upside-down goldfishbowl, and in the center of the bowl there was an object that startlinglyresembled a goldfish, but which, of course, was nothing of the sort. Whatever it was, though, it kept growing brighter and brighter each timeFrancis added another attachment, and had already attained a degree ofincandescence so intense that he had been forced to don cobalt-bluegoggles in order to look at it. The date was the First of April, 1962--April Fool's Day. Actually, the idea for this particular machine had not originated inFrancis' brain, nor had the parts for it originated in hiskitchen-workshop. When he had gone out to get the milk that morning hehad found a box on his doorstep, and in the box he had found thegoldfish bowl and the attachments, plus a sheet of instructionsentitled, DIRECTIONS FOR ASSEMBLING A MULTIPLE MÖBIUS-KNOT DYNAMO. Francis thought that a machine capable of tying knots would be prettykeen, and he had carried the box into the kitchen and set to workforthwith. He now had but one more part to go, and he proceeded to screw it intoplace. Then he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Simultaneously hishandiwork went into action. The attachments began to quiver and to emitsparks; the globe glowed, and the goldfishlike object in its centerbegan to dart this way and that as though striking at flies. A blue haloformed above the machine and began to rotate. Faster and faster itrotated, till finally its gaseous components separated and flew off in ahundred different directions. Three things happened then in swiftsuccession: Francis' back doorway took on a bluish cast, the sheet ofinstructions vanished, and the machine began to melt. A moment later he heard a whining sound on his back doorstep. Simultaneously all of the residents of Valleyview heard whining soundson _their_ back doorsteps. Naturally everybody went to find out about the whining. * * * * * The sign was a new one. At the most it was no more than six months old. YOU ARE ENTERING THE VILLAGE OF VALLEYVIEW, it said. PLEASE DRIVECAREFULLY--WE ARE FOND OF OUR DOGS. Philip Myles drove carefully. He was fond of dogs, too. Night had tiptoed in over the October countryside quite some time ago, but the village of Valleyview had not turned on so much as a singlestreetlight--nor, apparently, any other kind of light. All was indarkness, and not a soul was to be seen. Philip began to suspect that hehad entered a ghost town, and when his headlights darted across a darkintersection and picked up the overgrown grass and unkempt shrubbery ofthe village park, he was convinced that he had. Then he saw the girlwalking the dog. He kitty-cornered the intersection and pulled up alongside her. She wasa blonde, tall and chic in a gray fall suit. Her face wasattractive--beautiful even, in a cold and classic way--but she wouldnever see twenty-five again. But then, Philip would never again seethirty. When she paused, her dog paused too, although she did not haveit on a leash. It was on the small side, tawny in hue, with golden-browneyes, a slender white-tipped tail, and shaggy ears that hung down oneither side of its face in a manner reminiscent of a cocker spaniel's. It wasn't a cocker spaniel, though. The ears were much too long, for onething, and the tail was much too delicate, for another. It was abreed--or combination of breeds--that Philip had never seen before. He leaned across the seat and rolled down the right-hand window. "Couldyou direct me to number 23 Locust Street?" he asked. "It's the residenceof Judith Darrow, the village attorney. Maybe you know her. " The girl gave a start. "Are _you_ the real-estate man I sent for?" Philip gave a start, too. Recovering himself, he said, "Then _you're_Judith Darrow. I'm . . . I'm afraid I'm a little late. " The girl's eyes flashed. The radiant backwash of the headlights revealedthem to be both green and gray. "I specified in my letter that you weresupposed to be here at nine o'clock this morning!" she said. "Maybeyou'll tell me how you're going to appraise property in the dark!" "I'm sorry, " Philip said. "My car broke down on the way, and I had towait for it to be fixed. When I tried to call you, the operator told methat your phone had been disconnected. If you'll direct me to the hotel, I'll stay there overnight and appraise your property in the morning. There _is_ a hotel, isn't there?" "There is--but it's closed. Zarathustra--down!" The dog had raised up onits hind legs and placed its forepaws on the door in an unsuccessfulattempt to peer in the window. At the girl's command, it sank obedientlydown on its haunches. "Except for Zarathustra and myself, " she went on, "the village is empty. Everyone else has already moved out, and we'dhave moved out, too, if I hadn't been entrusted with arranging for thesale of the business places and the houses. It makes for a ratherawkward situation. " She had leaned forward, and the light from the dash lay palely upon herface, softening its austerity. "I don't get this at all, " Philip said. "From your letter I assumed you had two or three places you wanted me tosell, but not a whole town. There must have been at least a thousandpeople living here, and a thousand people just don't pack up and moveout all at once. " When she volunteered no explanation, he added, "Wheredid they move to?" "To Pfleugersville. I know you've never heard of it, so save theobservation. " Then, "Do you have any identification?" she asked. He gave her his driver's license, his business card and the letter shehad written him. After glancing at them, she handed them back. Sheappeared to be undecided about something. "Why don't you let me stay atthe hotel?" he suggested. "You must have the key if it's one of theplaces I'm supposed to appraise. " She shook her head. "I have the key, but there's not a stick offurniture in the place. We had a village auction last week and got ridof everything that we didn't plan on taking with us. " She sighed. "Well, there's nothing for it, I guess. The nearest motel is thirty miles away, so I'll have to put you up at my house. I have a few articles offurniture left--wedding gifts, mostly, that I was too sentimental topart with. " She got into the car. "Come on, Zarathustra. " Zarathustra clambered in, leaped across her lap and sat down betweenthem. Philip pulled away from the curb. "That's an odd name for a dog, "he said. "I know. I guess the reason I gave it to him is because he puts me inmind of a little old man sometimes. " "But the original Zarathustra isn't noted for his longevity. " "Perhaps another association was at work then. Turn right at the nextcorner. " A lonely light burned in one of number 23 Locust Street's three frontwindows. Its source, however, was not an incandescent bulb, but themantle of a gasoline lantern. "The village power-supply was shut offyesterday, " Judith Darrow explained, pumping the lantern into renewedbrightness. She glanced at him sideways. "Did you have dinner?" "As a matter of fact--no. But please don't--" "Bother? I couldn't if I wanted to. My larder is on its last legs. Butsit down, and I'll make you some sandwiches. I'll make a pot of coffeetoo--the gas hasn't been turned off yet. " * * * * * The living room had precisely three articles of furniture to itsname--two armchairs and a coffee table. After Judith left him, Philipset his brief case on the floor and sat down in one of the chairs. Hewondered idly how she expected to make the trip to Pfleugersville. Hehad seen no car in the driveway, and there was no garage on the propertyin which one could be concealed. Moreover, it was highly unlikely thatbuses serviced the village any more. Valleyview had been bypassed quitesome time ago by one of the new super-duper highways. He shrugged. Getting to Pfleugersville was her problem, not his. He returned his attention to the living room. It was a large room. Thehouse was large, too--large and Victorianesque. Judith, apparently, hadopened the back door, for a breeze was wafting through the downstairsrooms--a breeze laden with the scent of flowers and the dew-damp breathof growing grass. He frowned. The month was October, not June, and sincewhen did flowers bloom and grass grow in October? He concluded that thescent must be artificial. Zarathustra was regarding him with large golden eyes from the middle ofthe living-room floor. The animal did somehow bring to mind a little oldman, although he could not have been more than two or three years old. "You're not very good company, " Philip said. "Ruf, " said Zarathustra, and turning, trotted through an archway into alarge room that, judging from the empty shelves lining its walls, hadonce been a library, and thence through another archway into anotherroom--the dining room, undoubtedly--and out of sight. Philip leaned back wearily in the armchair he had chosen. He was beat. Take six days a week, ten hours a day, and multiply by fifty-two and youget three hundred and twelve. Three hundred and twelve days a year, hunting down clients, talking, walking, driving, expounding; trying inhis early thirties to build the foundation he should have begun buildingin his early twenties--the foundation for the family he had suddenlyrealized he wanted and someday hoped to have. Sometimes he wished thatambition had missed him altogether instead of waiting for so long tostrike. Sometimes he wished he could have gone right on being what heonce had been. After all, there was nothing wrong in living in cheaphotels and even cheaper rooming houses; there was nothing wrong in beinga lackadaisical door-to-door salesman with run-down heels. Nothing wrong, that is, except the aching want that came over yousometimes, and the loneliness of long and empty evenings. Zarathustra had re-entered the room and was sitting in the middle of thefloor again. He had not returned empty-handed--or rather, empty-mouthed--although the object he had brought with him was not thesort of object dogs generally pick up. It was a rose-- A green rose. * * * * * Disbelievingly, Philip leaned forward and took it from the animal'smouth. Before he had a chance to examine it, however, footsteps soundedin the next room, and prompted by he knew not what, he thrust the roseinto his suitcoat pocket. An instant later, Judith Darrow came throughthe archway bearing a large tray. After setting it down on the coffeetable, she poured two cups of coffee from a little silver pot andindicated a plate of sandwiches. "Please help yourself, " she said. She sat down in the other chair and sipped her coffee. He had one of thesandwiches, found that he didn't want any more. Somehow, her proximity, coupled with her silence, made him feel uncomfortable. "Has your husbandalready left for Pfleugersville?" he asked politely. Her gray-green eyes grew cold. "Yes, he left quite some time ago, " shesaid. "A year ago, as a matter of fact. But for parts unknown, notPfleugersville. Pfleugersville wasn't accessible then, anyway. He had abrunette on one arm, a redhead on the other, and a pint of Cutty Sark inhis hip pocket. " Philip was distressed. "I . . . I didn't mean to pry, " he said. "I'm--" "Sorry? Why should you be? Some men are born to settle down and raisechildren and others are born to drink and philander. It's as simple asthat. " "Is it?" something made Philip ask. "Into which category would you say Ifall?" "You're in a class by yourself. " Tiny silver flecks had come into hereyes, and he realized to his astonishment that they were flecks ofmalevolence. "You've never married, but playing the field hasn't madeyou one hundred per cent cynical. You're still convinced that somewherethere is a woman worthy of your devotion. And you're quite right--theworld is full of them. " His face tingled as though she had slapped it, and in a sense, she had. He restrained his anger with difficulty. "I didn't know that my celibacywas that noticeable, " he said. "It isn't. I took the liberty of having a private investigator checkinto your background. It proved to be unsavory in some respects, as Iimplied before, but unlike the backgrounds of the other real-estateagents I had checked, it contained not the slightest hint of dishonesty. The nature of my business is such that I need someone of maximumintegrity to contract it with. I had to go far and wide to find you. " "You're being unfair, " Philip said, mollified despite himself. "Mostreal-estate agents are honest. As a matter of fact, there's one in thesame office building with me that I'd trust with the family jewels--if Ihad any family jewels. " "Good, " Judith Darrow said. "I gambled on you knowing someone likethat. " He waited for her to elaborate, and when she did not he finished hiscoffee and stood up. "If you don't mind, I'll turn in, " he said. "I'vehad a pretty hard day. " "I'll show you your room. " She got two candles, lit them, and after placing them in giltcandlesticks, handed one of the candlesticks to him. The room was on thethird floor in under the eaves--as faraway from hers, probably, as thesize of the house permitted. Philip did not mind. He liked to sleep inrooms under eaves. There was an enchantment about the rain on the roofthat people who slept in less celestial bowers never got to know. AfterJudith left, he threw open the single window and undressed and climbedinto bed. Remembering the rose, he got it out of his coat pocket andexamined it by candlelight. It was green all right--even greener than hehad at first thought. Its scent was reminiscent of the summer breezethat was blowing through the downstairs rooms, though not at all inkeeping with the chill October air that was coming through his bedroomwindow. He laid it on the table beside the bed and blew out the candle. He would go looking for the bush tomorrow. * * * * * Philip was an early riser, and dawn had not yet departed when, fullydressed, he left the room with the rose in his coat pocket and quietlydescended the stairs. Entering the living room, he found Zarathustracurled up in one of the armchairs, and for a moment he had the eerieimpression that the animal had extended one of his shaggy ears and wasscratching his back with it. When Philip did a doubletake, however, theear was back to normal size and reposing on its owner's tawny cheek. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he said, "Come on, Zarathustra, we'regoing for a walk. " He headed for the back door, Zarathustra at his heels. A double doorleading off the dining room barred his way and proved to be locked. Frowning, he returned to the living room. "All right, " he said toZarathustra, "we'll go out the front way then. " [Illustration] He walked around the side of the house, his canine companion trottingbeside him. The side yard turned out to be disappointing. It containedno roses--green ones, or any other kind. About all it did contain thatwas worthy of notice was a dog house--an ancient affair that was muchtoo large for Zarathustra and which probably dated from the days whenJudith had owned a larger dog. The yard itself was a mess: the grasshadn't been cut all summer, the shrubbery was ragged, and dead leaveslay everywhere. A similar state of affairs existed next door, andglancing across lots, he saw that the same desuetude prevailedthroughout the entire neighborhood. Obviously the good citizens ofValleyview had lost interest in their real estate long before they hadmoved out. At length his explorations led him to the back door. If there were greenroses anywhere, the trellis that adorned the small back porch was thelogical place for them to be. He found nothing but bedraggled Virginiacreeper and more dead leaves. He tried the back door, and finding it locked, circled the rest of theway around the house. Judith was waiting for him on the front porch. "How nice of you to walk Zarathustra, " she said icily. "I do hope youfound the yard in order. " [Illustration] The yellow dress she was wearing did not match the tone of her voice, and the frilly blue apron tied round her waist belied the frostiness ofher gray-green eyes. Nevertheless, her rancor was real. "Sorry, " hesaid. "I didn't know your back yard was out of bounds. " Then, "If you'llgive me a list of the places you want evaluated, I'll get started rightaway. " "I'll take you around again personally--after we have breakfast. " Again he was consigned to the living room while she performed thenecessary culinary operations, and again she served him by tray. Clearlyshe did not want him in the kitchen, or anywhere near it. He was notmuch of a one for mysteries, but this one was intriguing him more andmore by the minute. Breakfast over, she told him to wait on the front porch while she didthe dishes, and instructed Zarathustra to keep him company. She had twovoices: the one she used in addressing Zarathustra contained overtonesof summer, and the one she used in addressing Philip containedovertones of fall. "Some day, " Philip told the little dog, "that chipshe carries on her shoulder is going to fall off of its own accord, andby then it will be too late--the way it was too late for me when I foundout that the person I'd been running away from all my life was myself inwolf's clothing. " "Ruf, " said Zarathustra, looking up at him with benign golden eyes. "Ruf-ruf!" * * * * * Presently Judith re-appeared, sans apron, and the three of them setforth into the golden October day. It was Philip's first experience inevaluating an entire village, but he had a knack for estimating theworth of property, and by the time noon came around, he had the job halfdone. "If you people had made even half an effort to keep your placesup, " he told Judith over cold-cut sandwiches and coffee in her livingroom, "we could have asked for a third again as much. Why in the worlddid you let everything go to pot just because you were moving some placeelse?" She shrugged. "It's hard to get anyone to do housework these days--notto mention gardening. Besides, in addition to the servant problem, there's another consideration--human nature. When you've lived in ashack all your life and you suddenly acquire a palace, you cease caringvery much what the shack looks like. " "Shack!" Philip was indignant. "Why, this house is lovely! Practicallyevery house you've shown me is lovely. Old, yes--but oldness is anessential part of the loveliness of houses. If Pfleugersville is on theorder of most housing developments I've seen, you and your neighbors aregoing to be good and sorry one of these fine days!" "But Pfleugersville isn't on the order of most housing developmentsyou've seen. In fact, it's not a housing development at all. But let'snot go into that. Anyway, we're concerned with Valleyview, notPfleugersville. " "Very well, " Philip said. "This afternoon should wind things up so faras the appraising goes. " * * * * * That evening, after a coffee-less supper--both the gas and the water hadbeen turned off that afternoon--he totaled up his figures. They madequite a respectable sum. He looked across the coffee table, which he hadcommandeered as a desk, to where Judith, with the dubious help ofZarathustra, was sorting out a pile of manila envelopes which she hadplaced in the middle of the living-room floor. "I'll do my best to selleverything, " he said, "but it's going to be difficult going till we geta few families living here. People are reluctant about moving into emptyneighborhoods, and businessmen aren't keen about opening up businessplaces before the customers are available. But I think it'll work outall right. There's a plaza not far from here that will provide a placeto shop until the local markets are functioning, and Valleyview is partof a centralized school district. " He slipped the paper he had beenfiguring on into his brief case, closed the case and stood up. "I'llkeep in touch with you. " Judith shook her head. "You'll do nothing of the sort. As soon as youleave, I'm moving to Pfleugersville. My business here is finished. " "I'll keep in touch with you there then. All you have to do is give meyour address and phone number. " She shook her head again. "I could give you both, but neither would doyou any good. But that's beside the point. Valleyview is yourresponsibility now--not mine. " Philip sat back down again. "You can start explaining any time, " hesaid. "It's very simple. The property owners of Valleyview signed all of theirhouses and places of business over to me. I, in turn, have signed all ofthem over to you--with the qualification, of course, that after sellingthem you will be entitled to no more than your usual commission. " Shewithdrew a paper from one of the manila envelopes. "After selling them, "she went on, "you are to divide the proceeds equally among the fourcharities specified in this contract. " She handed him the paper. "Do youunderstand now why I tried so hard to find a trustworthy agent?" Philip was staring at the paper, unable, in his astonishment, to readthe words it contained. "Suppose, " he said presently, "thatcircumstances should make it impossible for me to carry out my end ofthe agreement?" "In case of illness, you will already have taken the necessary steps totransfer the property to another agent who, in your opinion, is ascompletely honest as you are, and in case of death, you will alreadyhave taken the necessary steps to bequeath the property to the sameagent; and he, in both cases, will already have agreed to the terms laiddown in the contract you're holding in your hands. Why don't you readit?" * * * * * Now that his astonishment had abated somewhat, Philip found that hecould do so. "But this still doesn't make sense, " he said a short whilelater. "Obviously you and the rest of the owners have purchased newhouses. Would it be presumptuous of me to ask how you're going to payfor them when you're virtually giving your old houses away?" "I'm afraid it would be, Mr. Myles. " She withdrew another paper from theenvelope and handed it to him. "This is the other copy. If you'll kindlyaffix your signature to both, we can bring our business to a close. Asyou'll notice, I've already signed. " "But if you're going to be incommunicado, " Philip pointed out, angerbuilding up in him despite all he could do to stop it, "what good willyour copy do you?" Judith's countenance took on a glacial quality. So did her voice. "Mycopy will go into the hands of a trusted attorney, sealed in an envelopewhich I have already instructed him not to open till five years fromthis date. If, at the time it is opened, you have violated the terms ofour agreement, he will institute legal proceedings at once. Fortunately, although the Valleyview post office is closed, a mail truck passesthrough every weekday evening at eight. It's not that I don't trust you, Mr. Myles--but you are a man, you know. " Philip was tempted to tear up the two copies then and there, and tossthe pieces into the air. But he didn't, for the very good reason that hecouldn't afford to. Instead, he bore down viciously on his pen andbrought his name to life twice in large and angry letters. He handedJudith one copy, slipped the other into his breast pocket and got to hisfeet. "That, " he said, "brings our official business to a close. Now I'dlike to add an unofficial word of advice. It seems to me that you'reexacting an exorbitant price from the world for your husband's havingsold you out for a brunette and a redhead and a pint of Scotch. I'vebeen sold out lots of times for less than that, but I found out long agothat the world doesn't pay its bills even when you ask a fair price forthe damages done to you. I suggest that you write the matter off as abad debt and forget about it; then maybe you'll become a human beingagain. " She had risen to her feet and was standing stiffly before him. She puthim in mind of an exquisite and fragile statue, and for a moment he hadthe feeling that if he were to reach out and touch her, she wouldshatter into a million pieces. She did not move for some time, nor didhe; then she bent down, picked up three of the manila envelopes, straightened, and handed them to him. "Two of these contain the deeds, maps and other records you will need, " she said in a dead voice. "Thethird contains the keys to the houses and business places. Each key istagged with the correct address. Good-by, Mr. Myles. " "Good-by, " Philip said. He looked around the room intending to say good-by to Zarathustra, butZarathustra was nowhere to be seen. Finally he went into the hall, opened the front door and stepped out into the night. A full moon wasrising in the east. He walked down the moonlit walk, climbed into hiscar and threw his brief case and the manila envelopes into the backseat. Soon, Valleyview was far behind him. But not as far as it should have been. He couldn't get the green roseout of his mind. He couldn't get Judith Darrow out of his mind either. Nor could he exorcise the summer breeze that kept wafting through thecrevices in his common sense. A green rose and a grass widow and a breeze with a green breath. A wholetown taking off for greener pastures. . . . He reached into his coat pocket and touched the rose. It was no morethan a stem and a handful of petals now, but its reality could not bedenied. But roses do not bloom in autumn, and green roses do not bloomat all-- "Ruf!" He had turned into the new highway some time ago, and was driving alongit at a brisk sixty-five. Now, disbelievingly, he slowed, and pulledover onto the shoulder. Sure enough, he had a stowaway in the backseat--a tawny-haired stowaway with golden eyes, over-sized ears, and arestless, white-tipped tail. "Zarathustra!" he gasped. "How in thedickens did you get in there?" "Ruf, " Zarathustra replied. Philip groaned. Now he would have to go all the way back to Valleyview. Now he would have to see Judith Darrow again. Now he would have to--Hepaused in midthought, astonished at the abrupt acceleration of hisheartbeat. "Well I'll be damned!" he said, and without further preambletransferred Zarathustra to the front seat, U-turned, and started back. * * * * * The gasoline lantern had been moved out of the living-room window, but alight still showed beyond the panes. He pulled over to the curb andturned off the ignition. He gave one of Zarathustra's over-sized ears aplayful tug, absently noting a series of small nodules along its lowerextremity. "Come on, Zarathustra, " he said. "I may as well deliver youpersonally while I'm at it. " After locking the car, he started up the walk, Zarathustra at his heels. He knocked on the front door. Presently he knocked again. The doorcreaked, swung partially open. He frowned. Had she forgotten to latchit? he wondered. Or had she deliberately left it unlatched so thatZarathustra could get in? Zarathustra himself lent plausibility to thelatter conjecture by rising up on his hind legs and pushing the door therest of the way open with his forepaws, after which he trotted into thehall and disappeared. Philip pounded on the panels. "Miss Darrow!" he called. "Judith!" No answer. He called again. Still no answer. A summer breeze came traipsing out of the house and engulfed him in thescent of roses. What kind of roses? he wondered. Green ones? He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. He made his wayinto the living room. The two chairs were gone, and so was the coffeetable. He walked through the living room and into the library; throughthe library and into the dining room. The gasoline lantern burnedbrightly on the dining-room table, its harsh white light bathing barefloors and naked walls. The breeze was stronger here, the scent of roses almost cloying. He sawthen that the double door that had thwarted him that morning was open, and he moved toward it across the room. As he had suspected, it gaveaccess to the kitchen. Pausing on the threshold, he peered inside. Itwas an ordinary enough kitchen. Some of the appliances were gone, butthe stove and the refrigerator were still there. The back doorway had anodd bluish cast that caused the framework to shimmer. The door itselfwas open, and he could see starlight lying softly on fields and trees. Wonderingly he walked across the room and stepped outside. There was afaint sputtering sound, as though live wires had been crossed, and for afleeting second the scene before him seemed to waver. Then, abruptly, itgrew still. He grew still, too--immobile in the strange, yet peaceful, summer night. He was standing on a grassy plain, and the plain spread out on eitherhand to promontories of little trees. Before him, the land sloped gentlyupward, and was covered with multicolored flowers that twinkled likemicrocosmic stars. In the distance, the lights of a village showed. Tohis right, a riotous green-rose bush bloomed, and beneath it Zarathustrasat, wagging his tail. Philip took two steps forward, stopped and looked up at the sky. It waswrong somehow. For one thing, Cassiopeia had changed position, and foranother, Orion was awry. For still another, there were no clouds for themoon to hide behind, and yet the moon had disappeared. Zarathustra trotted over to where he was standing, gazed up at him withgolden eyes, then headed in the direction of the lights. Philip took adeep breath, and followed him. He would have visited the village anyway, Zarathustra or no Zarathustra. Was it Pfleugersville? He knew suddenlythat it was. * * * * * He had not gone far before he saw a highway. A pair of headlightsappeared suddenly in the direction of the village and resolved rapidlyinto a moving van. To his consternation, the van turned off thethoroughfare and headed in his direction. He ducked into a coppice, Zarathustra at his heels, and watched the heavy vehicle bounce by. Therewere two men in the cab, and painted on the paneling of the truckbedwere the words, PFLEUGERSVILLE MOVERS, INC. The van continued on in the direction from which he had come, andpresently he guessed its destination. Judith, clearly, was in the midstof moving out the furniture she had been too sentimental to sell. Theonly trouble was, her house had disappeared. So had the village ofValleyview. He stared at where the houses should have been, saw nothing at firstexcept a continuation of the starlit plain. Then he noticed an uprightrectangle of pale light hovering just above the ground, and presently heidentified it as Judith's back doorway. He could see through it into thekitchen, and by straining his eyes, he could even see the stove and therefrigerator. Gradually he made out other upright rectangles hovering just above theground, some of them on a line with Judith's. All of them, however, while outlined in the same shimmering blue that outlined hers, lackedlighted interiors. As he stood there staring, the van came to a halt, turned around andbacked up to the brightest rectangle, hiding it from view. The two mengot out of the cab and walked around to the rear of the truckbed. "We'llput the stove on first, " Philip heard one of them say. And then, "Wonderwhy she wants to hang onto junk like this?" The other man's voice was fainter, but his words were unmistakableenough: "Grass widows who turn into old maids have funny notionssometimes. " Judith Darrow wasn't really moving out of Valleyview after all. She onlythought she was. Philip went on. The breeze was all around him. It blew through his hair, kissed his cheeks and caressed his forehead. The stars shone palelydown. Some of the land was under cultivation, and he could see greenthings growing in the starlight, and the breeze carried their greenbreath to his nostrils. He reached the highway and began walking alongit. He saw no further sign of vehicles till he came opposite a largebrick building with bright light spilling through its windows. In frontof it were parked a dozen automobiles of a make that he was unfamiliarwith. He heard the whir of machinery and the pounding of hammers, and he wentover and peered through one of the windows. The building proved to be afurniture factory. Most of the work was being done by machines, butthere were enough tasks left over to keep the owners of the parked carsbusily occupied. The main manual task was upholstering. The machines cutand sewed and trimmed and planed and doweled and assembled, butapparently none of them was up to the fine art of spitting tacks. * * * * * Philip returned to the highway and went on. He came to other buildingsand peered into each. One was a small automobile-assembly plant, anotherwas a dairy, a third was a long greenhouse. In the first two thepreponderance of the work was being performed by machines. In the third, however, machines were conspicuously absent. Clearly it was one thingto build a machine with a superhuman work potential, but quite anotherto build one with a green thumb. [Illustration] He passed a pasture, and saw animals that looked like cows sleeping inthe starlight. He passed a field of newly-sprouted corn. He passed apower plant, and heard the whine of a generator. Finally he came to theoutskirts of Pfleugersville. There was a big illuminated sign by the side of the road. It stopped himin his tracks, and he stood there staring at its embossed letters: PFLEUGERSVILLE, SIRIUS XXI _Discovered April 1, 1962 Incorporated September 11, 1962_ Philip wiped his forehead. Zarathustra had trotted on ahead. Now he stopped and looked back. _Comeon_, he seemed to say. _Now that you've seen this much, you might aswell see the rest. _ So Philip entered Pfleugersville . . . And fell in love-- Fell in love with the lovely houses, and the darling trees in summerbloom. With the parterres of twinkling star-flowers and the expanses ofverdant lawns. With the trellised green roses that tapestried everyporch. With the hydrangealike blooms that garnished every corner. WithPfleugersville itself. Obviously the hour was late, for, other than himself, there was no oneon the streets, although lights burned in the windows of some of thehouses, and dogs of the same breed and size as Zarathustra occasionallytrotted by. And yet according to his watch the time was 10:51. Maybe, though, Pfleugersville was on different time. Maybe, here inPfleugersville, it was the middle of the night. The farther he progressed into the village, the more enchanted hebecame. He simply couldn't get over the houses. The difference betweenthem and the houses he was familiar with was subtle, but it was there. It was the difference that exists between good- and not-quite-goodtaste. Here were no standardized patios, but little marble aprons thatwere as much a part of the over-all architecture as a glen is a part ofa woods. Here were no stereotyped picture windows, but walls thatblended imperceptibly into pleasing patterns of transparency. Here wereno four-square back yards, but rambling star-flowered playgrounds withswings and seesaws and shaded swimming holes; with exquisite doghousesgood enough for little girls' dolls to live in. He passed a school that seemed to grow out of the very ground it stoodon. He passed a library that had been built around a huge tree, thebranches of which had intertwined their foliage into a living roof. Hepassed a block-long supermarket built of tinted glass. Finally he cameto the park. He gasped then. Gasped at the delicate trees and the little blue-eyedlakes; at the fairy-fountains and the winding, pebbled paths. Star-flowers shed their multicolored radiance everywhere, and starlightpoured prodigally down from the sky. He chose a path at random andwalked along it in the twofold radiance till he came to the cynosure. The cynosure was a statue--a statue of a buck-toothed, wall-eyed youthgazing steadfastly up into the heavens. In one hand the youth held aPhillips screw driver, in the other a six-inch crescent wrench. Standingseveral yards away and staring raptly up into the statue's face was theyouth himself, and so immobile was he that if it hadn't been for thepedestal on which the statue rested, Philip would have been unable todistinguish one from the other. There was an inscription on the pedestal. He walked over and read it inthe light cast by a nearby parterre of star-flowers: FRANCIS FARNSWORTH PFLEUGER, DISCOVERER OF PFLEUGERSVILLE _Born: May 5. 1941. Died: ----_ _Profession Inventor. On the first day of April of the year of our Lord, 1962, Francis Farnsworth Pfleuger brought into being a Möbius coincidence field and established multiple contact with the twenty-first satellite of the star Sirius, thereby giving the people of Valleyview access, via their back doorways, to a New World. Here we have come to live. Here we have come to raise our children. Here, in this idyllic village, which the noble race that once inhabited this fair planet left behind them when they migrated to the Greater Magellanic Cloud, we have settled down to create a new and better Way of Life. Here, thanks to Francis Farnsworth Pfleuger, we shall know happiness prosperity and freedom from fear. _ FRANCIS FARNSWORTH PFLEUGER, WE, THE NEW INHABITANTS OF SIRIUS XXI, SALUTE YOU! Philip wiped his forehead again. Presently he noticed that the flesh-and-blood Francis Pfleuger waslooking in his direction. "Me, " the flesh-and-blood Francis Pfleugersaid, pointing proudly at the statue. "Me. " "So I gather, " Philip said dryly. And then. "Zarathustra--come backhere!" The little dog had started down one of the paths that converged on thestatue. At Philip's command, he stopped but did not turn; instead heremained where he was, as though waiting for someone to come down thepath. After a moment, someone did--Judith Darrow. She was wearing a simple white dress, reminiscent both in design anddécor of a Grecian tunic. A wide gilt belt augmented the effect, and herdelicate sandals did nothing to mar it. In the radiance of thestar-flowers, her eyes were more gray than green. There were shadowsunder them, Philip noticed, and the lids were faintly red. She halted a few feet from him and looked at him without saying a word. "I . . . I brought your dog back, " he said lamely. "I found him in theback seat of my car. " "Thank you. I've been looking all over Pfleugersville for him. I left myValleyview doors open, hoping he'd come home of his own accord, but Iguess he had other ideas. Now that you've discovered our secret, Mr. Myles, what do you think of our brave new world?" "I think it's lovely, " Philip said, "but I don't believe it's where youseem to think it is. " "Don't you?" she asked. "Then suppose you show me the full moon thatrose over Valleyview tonight. Or better yet, suppose I show yousomething else. " She pointed to a region of the heavens just to the leftof the statue's turned-up nose. "You can't see them from here, " shesaid, "but around that insignificant yellow star, nine planets are inorbit. One of them is Earth. " "But that's impossible!" he objected. "Consider the--" "Distance? In the sort of space we're dealing with, Mr. Myles, distanceis not a factor. In Möbius space--as we have come to call it for lackof a better term--any two given points are coincidental, regardless ofhow far apart they may be in non-Möbius space. But this becomes manifestonly when a Möbius coincidence-field is established. As you probablyknow by now, Francis Pfleuger created such a field. " At the mention of his name, Francis Pfleuger came hurrying over to wherethey were standing. "E, " he declared, "equals mc². " "Thank you, Francis, " Judith said. Then, to Philip, "Shall we walk?" They started down one of the converging paths, Zarathustra bringing upthe rear. Behind them, Francis returned to his Narcissistic study ofhimself in stone. "We were neighbors back in Valleyview, " Judith said, "but I never dreamed he thought quite so much of himself. Ever since weput up that statue last week, he's been staring at it night and day. Sometimes he even brings his lunch with him. " "He seems to be familiar with Einstein. " "He's not really, though. He memorized the energy-mass equation in anattempt to justify his new status in life, but he hasn't the remotestnotion of what it means. It's ironic in a way that Pfleugersville shouldhave been discovered by someone with an IQ of less than seventy-five. " "No one with an IQ of less than seventy-five could create the sort offield you were talking about. " "He didn't create it deliberately--he brought it into being accidentallyby means of a machine he was building to tie knots with. Or at leastthat's what he says. But we do know that there was such a machinebecause we saw its fused parts in his kitchen, and there's no questionbut what it was the source of the field. Francis, though, can't rememberhow he made the parts or how he put them together. As a matter of fact, to this day he still doesn't understand what happened--though I have afeeling that he knows more than he lets on. " "What _did_ happen?" Philip asked. For a while Judith was silent. Then, "All of us promised solemnly not todivulge our secret to an outsider unless he was first accepted by thegroup as a whole, " she said. "But thanks to my negligence, you know mostof it already, so I suppose you're entitled to know the rest. " Shesighed. "Very well--I'll try to explain. . . . " When Francis Pfleuger's field had come into being, something hadhappened to the back doors of Valleyview that caused them to open upon aplanet which one of the local star-gazers promptly identified as SiriusXXI. The good folk of Valleyview had no idea of how such a state ofaffairs could exist, to say nothing of how it could have come about, till one of the scientists whom they asked to join them as a part of theplan which they presently devised to make their forthcoming utopiaself-sufficient, came up with a theory that explained everything. According to his theory, the round-trip distance between any twoplanetary or ²stella bodies was curved in the manner of a Möbiusstrip--i. E. , a strip of paper given a half-twist before bringing the twoends together. In this case, the strip represented the round-tripdistance from Earth to Sirius XXI. Earth was represented on the strip byone dot, and Sirius XXI by another, and, quite naturally, the two dotswere an equal distance--or approximately 8. 8 light years--apart. Thisbrought them directly opposite one another--one on one side of thestrip, the other on the other side; but since a Möbius strip has onlyone surface--or side--the two dots were actually occupying the samespace at the same time. In "Möbius space", then, Earth and Sirius XXIwere "coincidental". * * * * * Philip looked over his shoulder at the little yellow sun twinkling inthe sky. "Common sense, " he said, "tells me differently. " "Common sense is a liar of the first magnitude, " Judith said. "It hasmisled man ever since he first climbed down from the trees. It wascommon sense that inspired Ptolemy's theory of cosmogony. It was commonsense that inspired the burning of Giordano Bruno. . . . " The fact that common sense indicated that 8. 8 light years separatedEarth and Sirius XXI in common-sense reality didn't prove that 8. 8 lightyears separated them in a form of reality that was outsidecommon-sense's dominion--i. E. , Möbius space--and Francis Pfleuger'sfield had demonstrated as much. The back-door nodal areas which it hadestablished, however, were merely limited manifestations of thatreality--in other words, the field had merely provided limited access toa form of space that had been in existence all along. "Though why, " Judith concluded, "our back doors should have beenaffected rather than our front doors, for example, isinexplicable--unless it was because Francis built the machine in hiskitchen. In any event, when they did become nodal areas, they manifestedthemselves on Sirius XXI, and the dogs in the immediate vicinityassociated them with the doorways of their departed masters and beganwhining to be let in. " "Their departed masters?" "The race that built this village. The race that built the factories anddeveloped the encompassing farms. A year ago, according to the recordsthey left behind them, they migrated to the Greater Magellanic Cloud. " Philip was indignant. "Why didn't they take their dogs with them?" "They couldn't. After all, they had to leave their cars and theirfurniture behind them too, not to mention almost unbelievablestockpiles of every metal imaginable that will last us for centuries. The logistics of space travel make taking even an extra handkerchiefalong a calculated risk. Anyway, when their dogs 'found' us, they wereoverjoyed, and as for us, we fell in love with them at first sight. Ourown dogs, though, didn't take to them at all, and every one of them ranaway. " "This can't be the only village, " Philip said. "There must be otherssomewhere. " "Undoubtedly there are. All we know is that the people who built thisone were the last to leave. " The park was behind them now, and they were walking down a pleasantstreet. "And when you and your neighbors discovered the village, did youdecide to become expatriates right then and there?" Philip asked. She nodded. "Do you blame us? You've seen for yourself what a lovelyplace it is. But it's far more than that. In Valleyview, we hadunemployment. Here, there is work for everyone, and a correspondingfeeling of wantedness and togetherness. True, most of the work isfarmwork, but what of that? We have every conceivable kind of machine tohelp us in our tasks. Indeed, I think that the only machine the Sirianslacked was one that could manufacture food out of whole cloth. Butconsider the most important advantage of all: when we go to bed at nightwe can do so without being afraid that sometime during our sleep athermonuclear missile will descend out of the sky and devour us in onehuge incandescent bite. If we've made a culture hero out of our villageidiot, it's no more than right, for unwittingly or not, he opened up thegates of paradise. " "And you immediately saw to it that no one besides yourselves and achosen few would pass through them. " Judith paused beside a white gate. "Yes, that's true, " she said. "Tokeep our secret, we lived in our old houses while we were settling ouraffairs, closing down our few industries and setting up a new monetarysystem. In fact, we even kept our . . . The children in the dark for fearthat they would talk at school. Suppose, however, we _had_ publicizedour utopia. Can't you imagine the mockery opportunists would have madeout of it? The village we found was large enough to accommodateourselves and the few friends, relatives and specialists we asked tojoin us, but no larger; and we did, after all, find it in our own backyard. " She placed her hand on the white gate. "This is where I live. " He looked at the house, and it was enchanting. Slightly less enchanting, but delightful in its own right, was the much smaller house beside it. Judith pointed toward the latter dwelling and looked at Zarathustra. "It's almost morning, Zarathustra, " she said sternly. "Go to bed thisminute!" She opened the gate so that the little dog could pass throughand raised her eyes to Philip. "Our time is different here, " sheexplained. And then, "I'm afraid you'll have to hurry if you expect tomake it to my back door before the field dies out. " [Illustration] He felt suddenly empty. "Dies out?" he repeated numbly. "Yes. We don't know why, but it's been diminishing in strength eversince it first came into being, and our 'Möbius-strip scientist' haspredicted that it will cease to exist during the next twenty-four hours. I guess I don't need to remind you that you have important business onEarth. " "No, " he said, "I guess you don't. " His emptiness bowed out before awave of bitterness. He had rested his hand on the gate, as close to hersas he had dared. Now he saw that while it was inches away from hers inone sense, it was light years away in another. He removed it angrily. "Business always comes first with you, doesn't it?" "Yes. Business never lets you down. " "Do you know what I think?" Philip said. "I think that you were the onewho did the selling out, not your husband. I think you sold him out fora law practice. " Her face turned white as though he had slapped it, and in a sense, hehad. "Good-by, " she said, and this time he was certain that if he wereto reach out and touch her, she would shatter into a million pieces. "Give my love to the planet Earth, " she added icily. "Good-by, " Philip said, his anger gone now, and the emptiness rushingback. "Don't sell us short, though--we'll make a big splash in your skyone of these days when we blow ourselves up. " [Illustration] He turned and walked away. Walked out of the enchanting village and downthe highway and across the flower-pulsing plain to Judith's backdoorway. It was unlighted now, and he had trouble distinguishing it fromthe others. Its shimmering blue framework was flickering. Judith had notlied then: the field was dying out. He locked the back door behind him, walked sadly through the dark andempty house and let himself out the front door. He locked the front doorbehind him, too, and went down the walk and climbed into his car. He hadthought he had locked it, but apparently he hadn't. He drove out of townand down the road to the highway, and down the highway toward the bigbright bonfire of the city. Dawn was exploring the eastern sky with pale pink fingers when at lasthe parked his car in the garage behind his apartment building. Hereached into the back seat for his brief case and the manila envelopes. His brief case had hair on it. It was soft and warm. "Ruf, " it barked. "Ruf-ruf!" He knew then that everything was all right. Just because no one hadinvited him to the party didn't mean that he couldn't invite himself. Hewould have to hurry, though--he had a lot of things to do, and time wasrunning out. Noon found him on the highway again, his business transacted, hisaffairs settled, Zarathustra sitting beside him on the seat. One o'clockfound him driving into Valleyview; two-five found him turning down afamiliar street. He would have to leave his car behind him, but that wasall right. Leaving it to rust away in a ghost town was better thanselling it to some opportunistic dealer for a sum he would have no usefor anyway. He parked it by the curb, and after getting his suitcase outof the trunk, walked up to the front door of Number 23. He unlocked andopened the door, and after Zarathustra followed him inside, closed andlocked it behind him. He strode through the house to the kitchen. Heunlocked and opened the back door. He stepped eagerly across thethreshold--and stopped dead still. There were boards beneath his feet instead of grass. Instead of aflower-pied plain, he saw a series of unkempt back yards. Beside him onan unpainted trellis, Virginia creeper rattled in an October wind. Zarathustra came out behind him, descended the back-porch steps and ranaround the side of the house. Looking for the green-rose bush probably. "Ruf!" Zarathustra had returned and was looking up at him from the bottom step. On the top step he had placed an offering. The offering was a green rose. Philip bent down and picked it up. It was fresh, and its fragranceepitomized the very essence of Sirius XXI. "Zarathustra, " he gasped, "where did you get it?" "Ruf!" said Zarathustra, and ran around the side of the house. Philip followed, rounded the corner just in time to see the white-tippedtail disappear into the ancient dog house. Disappointment numbed him. That was where the rose had been then--stored away for safe-keeping likean old and worthless bone. But the rose was fresh, he reminded himself. Did dog houses have back doorways? This one did, he saw, kneeling down and peering inside. A lovely backdoorway, rimmed with shimmering blue. It framed a familiar vista, in theforeground of which a familiar green-rosebush stood. Beneath therosebush Zarathustra sat, wagging his tail. It was a tight squeeze, but Philip made it. He even managed to get hissuitcase through. And just in time too, for hardly had he done so whenthe doorway began to flicker. Now it was on its way out, and as hewatched, it faded into transparency and disappeared. He crawled from beneath the rosebush and stood up. The day was brightand warm, and the position of the sun indicated early morning or lateafternoon. No, not sun--suns. One of them was a brilliant blue-whiteorb, the other a twinkling point of light. He set off across the plain in Zarathustra's wake. He had a speechalready prepared, and when Judith met him at the gate with wide andwondering eyes, he delivered it without preamble. "Judith, " he said, "Iam contemptuous of the notion that some things are meant to be andothers aren't, and I firmly believe in my own free will; but when yourdog stows away in the back seat of my car two times running and makesit impossible for me not to see you again, then there must be somethingafoot which neither you nor I can do a thing about. Whatever it is, Ihave given in to it and have transferred your real estate to an agentmore trustworthy than myself. I know you haven't known me long, and Iknow I'm not an accepted member of your group, but maybe somebody willgive me a job raking lawns or washing windows or hoeing corn long enoughfor me to prove that I am not in the least antisocial; and maybe, intime, you yourself will get to know me well enough to realize that whileI have a weakness for blondes who look like Grecian goddesses, I have notaste whatever for redheads, brunettes, or Cutty Sark. In any event, Ihave burned my bridges behind me, and whether I ever become a residentof Pfleugersville or not, I have already become a resident of SiriusXXI. " Judith Darrow was silent for some time. Then, "This morning, " she said, "I wanted to ask you to join us, but I couldn't for two reasons. Thefirst was your commitment to sell our houses, the second was mybitterness toward men. You have eliminated the first, and the secondseems suddenly inane. " She raised her eyes. "Philip, please join us. Iwant you to. " Zarathustra, whose real name was Siddenon Phenphonderill, left themstanding there in each other's arms and trotted down the street and outof town. He covered the ground in easy lopes that belied his threehundred and twenty-five years, and soon he arrived at the Meeting Place. The mayors of the other villages had been awaiting him since earlymorning and were shifting impatiently on their haunches. When heclambered up on the rostrum they extended their audio-appendages andretractile fingers and accorded him a round of applause. He extended hisown "hands" and held them up for silence, then, retracting them again, he seated himself before the little lectern and began his report, theidiomatic translation of which follows forthwith: "Gentlemen, my apologies for my late arrival. I will touch upon thecircumstances that were responsible for it presently. "To get down to the matter uppermost in your minds: Yes, the experimentwas a success, and if you will use your psycho-transmutative powers toremodel your villages along the lines my constituents and I remodeledours and to build enough factories to give your 'masters' that sense ofself-sufficiency so essential to their well-being, and if you will'plant' your disassembled Multiple Möbius-Knot Dynamos in such a waythat the resultant fields will be ascribed to accidental causes, youwill have no more trouble attracting personnel than we did. Just makesure that your 'masters' quarters are superior to your own, and thatyou behave like dogs in their presence. And when you fabricate yourrecords concerning your mythical departed masters, see to it that theydo not conflict with the records we fabricated concerning ours. It wouldbe desirable indeed if our Sirian-human society could be based on lessdeceitful grounds than these, but the very human attitude we areexploiting renders this impossible at the moment. I hate to think of theresentment we would incur were we to reveal that, far from being themere dogs we seem to be, we are capable of mentally transmuting naturalresources into virtually anything from a key to a concert hall, and Ihate even more to think of the resentment we would incur were we toreveal that, for all our ability in the inanimate field, we have neverbeen able to materialize so much as a single blade of grass in theanimate field, and that our reason for coincidentalizing the planetEarth and creating our irresistible little utopias stems not from a needfor companionship but from a need for gardeners. However, you will findthat all of this can be ironed out eventually through the humanchildren, with whom you will be thrown into daily contact and whom youwill find to possess all of their parents' abiding love for us and noneof their parents' superior attitude toward us. To a little child, a dogis a companion, not a pet; an equal, not an inferior--and the littlechildren of today will be the grown-ups of tomorrow. "To return to the circumstances that occasioned my late arrival: I . . . Imust confess, gentlemen, that I became quite attached to the 'mistress'into whose house I sought entry when we first established our field andwho subsequently adopted me when I convinced her real dog that he wouldfind greener pastures elsewhere. So greatly attached did I become, infact, that when the opportunity of ostracizing her loneliness presenteditself, I could not refrain from taking advantage of it. The person towhom she was most suited and who was most suited to her appearedvirtually upon her very doorstep; but in her stubbornness and in herpride she aggravated rather than encouraged him, causing him to rebelagainst the natural attraction he felt toward her. I am happy to reportthat, by means of a number of subterfuges--the final one of whichnecessitated the use of our original doorway--I was able to set thismatter right, and that these two once-lonely people are about to embarkupon a relationship which in their folklore is oftentimes quaintlyalluded to by the words, 'They lived happily ever after. ' "And now, gentlemen, the best of luck to you and your constituents, andmay you end up with servants as excellent as ours. I hereby declare thismeeting adjourned. " TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: This etext was produced from "Analog Science Fact Science Fiction"November 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed.