Futuria Fantasia, Spring 1940 Part 2

Well, after that, of course, matters got steadily worse. She was driven from home, after blasting the bathtub and spoiling a valuable Angora kitten. (It was later made into a m.u.f.f, but moths got into it. That, however, is another story, and not an especially good one.)

Poor Scarlett was excluded from all fan gatherings. Sun stroke and eclipse were her constant companions. She came with the deluge and was gone with the wind.

The girl was utterly friendless. She roamed wildly here and there, haggard, careworn and miserable, in a tattered gown made from the covers of AMAZING STORIES. At night people could hear her moaning under their windows, and they huddled closer to the fire, whispering, "Fetch aft the rum, Darby! Evil walks abroad tonight and I feel my soul shudder in me.

No soda, thanks!"

Hopeless and forlorn, Scarlett stowed away on a schooner out for Hong Kong. But she was discovered, cursed for a Jonah, and set ash.o.r.e on a cannibal isle in the South Seas.

It was a blessing in disguise. The natives mistook her for a G.o.ddess.

They were used to bad weather, and did not attribute the altered climate to Scarlett.

So they garlanded her with leis and made her their queen.

And she rained happily ever after.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Would you stroll with me, my loved one 'Neath the pale Venusian Moon, Where its misty orb goes drifting, Waning, darling, all too soon?

Would you gaze into the rainbow Where the lunar moonbeams play, Could it be you'd softly answer "Yes, for all those things I pray?"

If it's so, my darling, kick me, For I'd surely be a ninny, Making love by Venus moonlight-- When--you see--there isn't any!

by J. HARVEY HAGGARD

_THE PIPER_

_ron reynolds_

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"LORD! HE'S THERE AGAIN! HE'S THERE! LOOK!" the old man croaked, jabbing a calloused finger at the burial hill. "Old Piper again! As crazy as a loon! Every year that way!"

The Martian boy at the feet of the old man stirred his thin reddish feet in the soil and affixed his large green eyes upon the burial hill where the Piper stood. "Why does he do that?" asked the boy.

"Ah?" The old man's leathery face rumpled into a maze of wrinkles. "He's crazy, that's what. Stands up there piping on his music from sunset until dawn."

The thin piping sounds squealed in the dusk, echoed back from the low hills, were lost in melancholy silence, fading. Then louder, higher, insanely, crying with shrill voice.

The Piper was a tall, gaunt man, face as pale and wan as Martian moons, eyes electrical purple, standing against the soft of the dusking heaven, holding his pipe to his lips, playing. The Piper--a silhouette--a symbol--a melody.

"Where did the Piper come from?" asked the Martian boy.

"From Venus." The old man took out his pipe and filled it. "Oh, some twenty years ago or more, on the projectile with the Terrestrians. I arrived on the same s.h.i.+p, coming from Earth, we shared a double seat together."

"What is his name?" Again the boyish, eager voice.

"I can't remember. I don't think I ever knew, really."

A vague rustling sound came into existence. The Piper continued playing, paying no heed to it. From the darkness, across the star-jewelled horizon, came mysterious shapes, creeping, creeping.

"Mars is a dying world," the old man said. "Nothing ever happens of much gravity. The Piper, I believe, is an exile."

The stars trembled like reflections in water, dancing with the music.

"An exile." The old man continued. "Something like a leper. They called him THE BRILLIANT. He was the epitome of all Venerian culture until the Earthmen came with their greedy incorporations and licentious harlots.

The Earthlings outlawed him, sent him here to Mars to live out his days."

"Mars is a dying world," repeated the boy. "A dying world. How many Martians are there, sir?"

The old man chuckled. "I guess maybe you are the last pure Martian alive, boy. But there are millions of others."

"Where do they live? I have never seen them."

"You are young. You have much to see, much to learn."

"Where do they live?"

"Out there, beyond the mountains, beyond the dead sea bottoms, over the horizon and to the north, in the caves, far back in the subterrane."

"Why?"

"Why? Now that's hard to say. They were a brilliant race once upon a time. But something happened to them, hybrided them. They are unintelligent creatures now, cruel beasts."

"Does Earth own Mars?" The little boy's eyes were riveted upon the glowing planet overhead, the green planet.

"Yes, all of Mars. Earth has three cities here, each containing one thousand people. The closest city is a mile from here, down the road, a group of small metal bubble-like buildings. The men from Earth move about among the buildings like ants enclosed in their s.p.a.ce suits. They are miners. With their huge machines they rip open the bowels of our planet and dig out our precious life-blood from the mineral arteries."

"Is that all?"

"That is all." The old man shook his head sadly. "No culture, no art, no purpose. Greedy, hopeless Earthlings."

"And the other two cities----where are they?"

"One is up the same cobbled road five miles, the third is further still by some five hundred miles."

"I am glad I live here with you, alone." The boy's head nodded sleepily.

"I do not like the men from Terra. They are despoilers."

"They have always been. But someday," said the old man, "they will meet their doom. They have blasphemed enough, have they. They cannot _own_ planets as they have and expect nothing but greedy luxury for their sluggishly squat bodies. Someday----!" His voice rose high, in tempo and pitch with the Piper's wild music.

Wild music, insane music, stirring music. Music to stir the savage into life. Music to effect man's destiny!