Practice makes perfect in some
cases—but not in this eerie instance!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Infinity Science Fiction, November 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Why me? Why, out of 300 billion people on earth, why did they have topick on me?
And if it had to happen, why couldn't it have happened before I metBetty and fell in love with her? You see, Betty and I were to bemarried tomorrow. We were to have been married. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, indeed! What a ghastly thought that is! How can I explainto Betty—to anyone! I can't face her, and what could I say on thetelephone? "Sorry, Betty, I can't marry you. I'm no longer—quitehuman."
Quit joking, Kelley! This is for real. You're sober and awake and itdid happen. Marrying Betty is out of the question even if she'd haveyou the way you are. You're not that two-faced!
Quit standing in front of the mirror, naked and shaking, lookingfor scars, counting your fingers and toes. You've taken a hundredinventories, and it always comes out wrong. And it always will,unless ... unless they come back. But that's hopeless. They'd neverfind me again. Not out of all the people on earth. Besides, theydidn't seem to give a damn. No more than a kid gives a damn whathappens to a lump of modelling clay when he gets bored squeezing itinto this shape and that.
Where did they come from? Or, judging from their "talk," when didthey come from? And would it do me any good if I knew?
I was sitting there in my bachelor apartment, drinking a can ofbeer and trying to work a crossword puzzle to get sleepy. I wasn'tespecially jittery like the groom is always supposed to be on the eveof his wedding. Just wide awake at midnight, wanting to get sleepy so Icould get some real rest when I went to bed.
Just sitting there trying to think of a two-letter word for "sun-god."And that made me think of the gold in Betty's hair when the sun was onit at the beach. And pretty soon I was just staring into space, achingfor Betty, wishing the next twelve hours of my life would vanish and wecould be together, heading for our little cottage at the lake.
Staring into space.... Then it wasn't just space. There were these twobig ball bearings in front of me, about three feet in diameter, if youcould say they had a diameter. They looked like ball bearings becausetheir surfaces were shiny, mirrorlike steel. But they had unevenlyspaced, smooth bumps. Something like the random knobs on a potato, sothey weren't really round at all.
The light from my lamp reflected crazily, and my own image gaped backat me from their distorted, reflecting curves. Like the fun-mirrors atthe crazy-house, only crazier ... and not funny at all. Fear is neverfunny. And I was afraid. I'll swear I could taste the terror. It wassalty on my tongue. When I tried to cry out, the roof of my mouth feltlike old concrete.
Then one of them spoke. "It's alive! Intelligent! It senses ourpresence!"
I was receiving pure thought, not words. But man thinks only in words.And their thoughts fished suitable words from my subconscious to framethem for my assimilation.
Telepathy? Impossible! What common points of reference could I havewith these two unthinkably alien life-forms?
The answer whipped back at me on an intuitive, sub-vocal level: Thoughtis a universal energy manifestation. Language is only the clumsyvehicle for thought.
Between me and the aliens lay no such barrier.
"Obviously intelligent," the other agreed. "Feel those