The LAST LAUGH
by BRYCE WALTON
The visitor from Mars was a first-rate howl.
Earthmen reckoned he was endowed with all the
qualities of all the greatest clowns in the history
of Buffoonery. Often though, the distance between
humor and terror can be too short to be funny.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories November 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The scarred rocket rolled down street canyons away from United NationsCity, wheeled toward Madison Square Garden between jam-packed,crazily-cheering millions of citizens from every nation on Earth.
Confetti snow drifted in colorful storm, wild faces shone throughdrifts of spiraling streamers. Signs floated everywhere. Neonsigns blinked off and on. Signs floated from balloons across thekleig-lighted sky. Welcome hero signs. And even signs shouting:
WELCOME TO EARTH—ZEKE!
They spelled the name wrong, Johnson thought with some dismay. Butthat's the way it sounded, he decided, when I radioed in ahead thatthere was a Martian with us.
Spelled ZEKE, the name scarcely projected the dignity of the name'ssound in Martian language. But, in thinking about it now, Johnsonrealized that it was the only way it could be spelled or pronounced inEnglish.
This seemingly insignificant fact bothered Johnson now. He felt agrowing uneasiness. The Martian was largely his responsibility, hefelt. It had been Johnson who had spent most of the time on the firstvisit to Mars with the few Martians left in that one isolated mountainvillage, learning their language and ancient, conservative, almoststatic culture. Being an anthropologist, among other things, it hadbeen natural for Johnson to have manifested this particular interest.
Johnson had also been the one to suggest that perhaps Zeke might liketo pay Earth a visit.
Zeke had readily agreed, but now Johnson was beginning to wonder why.In six months another rocket would go to Mars and Zeke could go home,but meanwhile—Johnson suddenly began to wonder about the possibleramifications of a Martian's first visit to Earth.
He had radioed ahead about the Martian but had given no details.The world awaited its first look at a Martian, the expectationovershadowing their hero worship of Captain Stromberg, Atomics EngineerHinton, and Professor William Johnson—the first successful navigatorsof deep space.
Right now, Stromberg and Hinton were straightening their dress uniformspreparatory to the feting promised when the rocket was wheeled intoMadison Square Garden. UN notables would be there, everyone of anyimportance, plus every one who could be jammed into the Garden. Therocket would be wheeled up to a speaker's platform, the doors wouldopen and out would step the three heroes and Zeke.
Johnson looked at Zeke now with a new and uneasy appraisal. He slumpedand then as Johnson motioned to him, Zeke gave a series of grotesquehops. His face, like a monstrous soft rubber mask bought in a noveltyshop, twisted into a series of fantastic grimaces.
Stromberg and Hinton grinned appreciatively. They thought Zeke waspretty funny. Johnson no longer thought so because he had realized thecultural significance of Zeke's actions. Johnson gestured for Zeke tolook through the port view plate.
His rubberoid features, which at times suggested a travesty ofsomething very remotely human, bunched up and then spread in alldirections as though running into yellow putty. "They're welcoming