The Weirdest World
By R. A. LAFFERTY
Illustrated by WOOD
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine June 1961.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Odd planet! The bipeds talked from their
heads and saw only what lay before them.
In short, they were pathetic—and deadly!
I
As I am now utterly without hope, lost to my mission and lost in thesight of my crew, I will record what petty thoughts I may have forwhat benefit they may give some other starfarer. Nine long days ofbickering! But the decision is sure. The crew will maroon me. I havelost all control over them.
Who could have believed that I would show such weakness when crossingthe barrier? By all the tests I should have been the strongest. But thefinal test is the event itself. I failed.
I only hope that it is a pleasant and habitable planet where they putme down....
Later. They have decided. I am no longer the captain even in name. Butthey have compassion on me. They will do what they can for my comfort.I believe they have already selected my desert island, so to speak, anout-of-the-way globe where they will leave me to die. I will hope forthe best. I no longer have any voice in their councils....
Later. I will be put down with only the basic survival kit: theejection mortar and sphere for my last testament to be orbited intothe galactic drift; a small cosmoscope so that I will at least havemy bearings; one change of blood; an abridged universal languagecorrelator; a compendium of the one thousand philosophic questions yetunsolved to exercise my mind; a small vial of bug-kill; and a stack ofsexy magazines....
Later. It has been selected. But my mind has grown so demoralized thatI do not even recognize the system, though once this particular regionwas my specialty. The globe will be habitable. There will be breathableatmosphere which will allow me to dispense with much bothersomeequipment. Here the filler used is nitrogen, yet it will not matter. Ihave breathed nitrogen before. There will be water, much of it saline,but sufficient quantities of sweet. Food will be no problem; beforebeing marooned, I will receive injections that should last me for therest of my probably short life. Gravity will be within the range of myconstitution.
What will be lacking? Nothing but the companionship of my own kind,which is everything.
What a terrible thing it is to be marooned!
One of my teachers used to say that the only unforgivable sin in theuniverse is ineptitude. That I should be the first to succumb tospace-ineptitude and be an awkward burden on the rest of them! But itwould be disastrous for them to try to travel any longer with a sickman, particularly as their nominal leader. I would be a shadow overthem. I hold them no rancor.
It will be today....
Later. I am here. I have no real interest in defining where "here"is, though I have my cosmoscope and could easily determine it. I wasanesthetized a few hours before, and put down here in my sleep. Theblasted half-acre of their landing is near. No other trace of them isleft.
Yet it is a good choice and not greatly unlike home. It is the nearestresemblance I have seen on the entire voyage, which is to say that thepseudodendrons are enough like trees to remind me of trees, the herbagenear enough to grass to satisfy one who had never known real grass. Itis a green, somewhat waterl