To Your Scattered Bodies Go

Burton stumbled toward Göring, his club held high… Burton meant to knock him out, but Göring suddenly turned and ran away. Burton followed him as best he could, down the hill, up another one, and then out onto the flat plain. The rains stopped, the thunder and lightning died, and within five minutes the clouds, as always, had cleared away. The starlight gleamed on Göring’s white skin.

Like a phantom he flitted ahead of his pursuer, seemingly bent upon getting to The River. Burton kept after him, although he wondered why he was doing so. His legs had regained most of their strength, and his vision was no longer double. Presently, he found Göring. He was squatting by The River and staring intently at the star-fractured waves.

Burton said, "Are you all right now?" Göring was startled. He began to rise, then changed his mind. Groaning, he put his head down on his knees.

"I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t know why," he said dully. "Karla was telling me she was moving out in the morning, said she couldn’t sleep with all the noise I made with my nightmares. And I was acting strangely. I begged her to stay; I told her I loved her very much. I’d die if she deserted me. She said she was fond of me, had been, rather, but she didn’t love me. Suddenly, it seemed that if I wanted to keep her, I’d have to hill her. She ran screaming out of the hut. You know the rest."

"I intended to kill you," Burton said. "But I can see you’re no more responsible thaw a madman. The people here won’t accept that excuse, though. You know what they’ll do to you; hang you upside down by your ankles and let you hang until you die."

Göring cried, "I don’t understand it! What’s happening to me? Those nightmares! Believe me, Burton, if I’ve si

"Stay away from the dreamgum," Burton said. "You’ll have to sweat it out. You can do it. You told me you overcame the morphine habit on Earth."

Göring stood up and faced Burton. That’s just it! I haven’t touched the gum since I came to this place!"

Burton said, "What? But I’ll swear…!"

"You assumed I was using the stuff because of the way I was acting! No, I have not had a bit of the gum! But it doesn’t make any difference!"

Despite his loathing of Göring, Burton felt pity. He said, "You’ve opened the Pandora of yourself, and it looks as if you’ll not be able to shut the lid. I don’t know how this is going to end, but I wouldn’t want to be in your mind. Not that you don’t deserve this."

Göring said, in a quiet and determined voice, "I’ll defeat them."

"You mean you’ll conquer yourself," Burton said. He turned to go but halted for a last word. "What are you going to do?"

Göring gestured -at The River. "Drown myself. I’ll get a fresh start. Maybe I’ll be better equipped the next place. And I certainly don’t want to be trussed up like a chicken in a butcher shop window."

"Au revoir, then," Burton said. "And good luck."

"Thank you. You know you’re not a bad sort. Just one word of advice."

"What’s that?"

"You’d better stay away from the dreamgum yourself. So far, you’ve been lucky. But one of these days, it’ll take hold of you as it did me. Your devils won’t be mine, but they’ll be just as monstrous and terrifying to you."

"Nonsense I I’ve nothing to hide from myself!" Burton laughed loudly. "I’ve chewed enough of the stuff to know." He walked away, but he was thinking of the warning. He had used the gum twenty-two times. Each time had made him swear never to touch the gum again.

On the way back to the hills, he looked behind him. The dim white figure of Göring was slowly sinking into the black-and silver waters of The River. Burton saluted, since he was not one to resist the dramatic gesture. Afterward, he forgot Göring. The pain in the back of his head, temporarily subdued, came back sharper than before. His knees turned to water and, only a few yards from his hut; he had to sit down.

He must have become unconscious then, or half-conscious since he had no memory of being dragged along on the grass. When his wits cleared, he found himself lying on a bamboo bed inside a hut.

It was dark with the only illumination the starlight filtering is through the tree branches outside the square of window. He turned his head and saw the shadowy and pale-white bulk of a man squatting by him. The man was holding a thin metal object before his eyes, the gleaming end of which was pointed at Burton.

25

As soon as Burton turned his head, the man put the device down. He spoke in English.

"It’s taken me a long time to find you, Richard Burton." Burton groped around on the floor for a weapon with his left hand, which was hidden from the man’s view. His fingers touched nothing but dirt. He said, "Now you’ve found me, you damn Ethical, what do you intend doing with me?"

The man shifted slightly and he chuckled. "Nothing." He paused, then said, "I am not one of Them." He laughed again when Burton gasped. "That’s not quite true. I am with Them, but I am not of Them." He picked up the device, which he had been aiming at Burton.

"This tells me that you have a fractured skull and a concussion of the brain: You must be very tough, because you should be dead, judging from the extent of the injury. But you may pull out of it, if you take it easy. Unfortunately, you don’t have time to convalesce. The Others know you’re in this area, give or take thirty miles. In a day or so, They’ll have you pinpointed."

Burton tried to sit up and found that his bones had become soft as taffy in sunlight, and a bayonet was prying open the back of his skull. Groaning, he lay back down.

"Who are you and what’s your business?"

"I can’t tell you my name. If — much more likely when — They catch you, They’ll thread out your memory and run it off backward to the time you woke up in the pre-resurrection bubble. They won’t find out what made you wake before your time. But They will know about this conversation. They’ll even be able to see me. But only as you see me, a pale shadow with no features. They’ll hear my voice too, but They won’t recognize it. I’m using a transmuter.

"They will, however, be horrified. What they have slowly and reluctantly been suspecting will all of a sudden be revealed as the truth. They have a traitor in Their midst"

"I wish I knew what you were talking about," Burton said.

The man said, "I’ll tell you this much. You have been told a monstrous lie about the purpose of the Resurrection. What Spruce told you, and what that Ethical creation, the Church of the Second Chance, teaches — are lies! All lies! The truth is that you human beings have been given life again only to participate in a scientific experiment. The Ethicals — a misnomer if there ever was one have reshaped this planet into one Rivervalley, built the grailstones, and brought all of you back from the dead for one purpose. To record your history and customs. And, as a secondary matter, to observe your reactions to Resurrection and to the mixing of different peoples of different eras. That is all it is: a scientific project. And when you have served your purpose, back into the dust you go!"

"This story about giving all of you another chance at eternal life and salvation because it is Their ethical duty — lies! Actually, my people do not believe that you are worth saving. They do not think you have "souls"!" Burton was silent for a while. The fellow was certainly sincere. Or, if not sincere, he was very emotionally involved, since he was breathing so heavily.

Finally, Burton spoke. "I can’t see anybody going to all this expense and labor just to run a scientific experiment, or to make historical recordings."