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#Post#: 15117--------------------------------------------------
The Edge by Agatha Christie (🔊 Audiobook)
By: AGelbert Date: January 7, 2020, 10:01 pm
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[center][img
width=30]
HTML https://renewablerevolution.createaforum.com/gallery/renewablerevolution/2/3-241119204318.png[/img]<br
/> The Edge by Agatha Christie (🔊 Audiobook)[/center]
17,127 views•Dec 19, 2019
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/zvMToBn8iDo[/center]
English VideoBooks
1.33K subscribers
Claire Halliwell lives a quiet country life with her dogs. A
conscientious and popular parish worker, she takes everything in
her stride—even when Sir Gerald Lee, the man she loves, marries
Vivien, a glamorous city girl. When Claire learns that Vivien is
having an affair, her sense of duty to Gerald is stretched to
the limit!
The story performed by Isla Blair.
Category Education
#Post#: 15122--------------------------------------------------
☠️ The Harlequin Tea Set by Agatha Christie (Ԃ
66; Audiobook)
By: AGelbert Date: January 8, 2020, 6:09 pm
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[center][img
width=30]
HTML https://renewablerevolution.createaforum.com/gallery/renewablerevolution/2/3-241119204318.png[/img]<br
/>The Harlequin Tea Set by Agatha Christie (🔊
Audiobook)[/center]
26,425 views•Dec 26, 2019
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/xHfFh82nnuQ[/center]
English VideoBooks
1.36K subscribers
Waiting for his car to be fixed, Mr. Satterthwaite sits in a tea
shop called the Harlequin café, thinking of his friend Harley
Quin, whom he hasn’t seen in many years. Then, in a burst of
sunshine, the very same Mr. Quin walks through the door, along
with his diligent dog, Hermes. Satterthwaite is telling him the
very long history of the family he is off to visit, when their
conversation is interrupted by the abrupt entrance of a member
of that very same family, intent upon replacing her harlequin
cups. Satterthwaite desperately asks Quin to accompany him on
his trip, but the ever-enigmatic Quin simply leaves his friend
with one word, “Daltonism.” What does that word mean, and what
is the significance of Quin turning up at the tea shop on that
day?
Category Education
#Post#: 15123--------------------------------------------------
Dry English wit from Bertie Wooster and his oh so patient man se
rvant Jeeves.
By: AGelbert Date: January 8, 2020, 6:58 pm
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/> [img
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/>
[center]Jeeves and the Yuletide Spirit by P.G. Wodehouse, short
story read by Nick Martin[/center]
16,187 views•Dec 23, 2019
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/_iE2oucwDDo[/center]
Trickynicky Marts
905 subscribers
Dry English wit from the ever bubbling Bertie Wooster and his oh
so patient man servant Jeeves.
Category People & Blogs
Agelbert NOTE: I haven't laughed this hard in YEARS! [img
width=25]
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#Post#: 15296--------------------------------------------------
"There, but for the Grace of God, go I".
By: AGelbert Date: January 21, 2020, 11:30 pm
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[center][font=times new roman]A Sherlock Holmes Adventure: The
Boscombe Valley Mystery Audiobook[/font][/center]
120,545 views•Dec 17, 2017
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/bcTgrYKA8cU[/center]
Sherlock Holmes Stories Magpie Audio
41.3K subscribers
The Boscombe Valley Mystery is the fourth story in the Sherlock
Holmes collection 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle.
Read by Greg Wagland for Magpie Audio.
©Magpie Audio 2017
Category Entertainment
#Post#: 15525--------------------------------------------------
1984 Full Audiobook LEARN WHAT 🦀 TRUMP HAS PLANNED FOR Y
OU AND ME 😱
By: AGelbert Date: February 9, 2020, 5:14 pm
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[move]1984 Full Audiobook LEARN WHAT 🦀 TRUMP HAS PLANNED
FOR YOU AND ME. [img
width=100]
HTML https://media.tenor.com/images/926c7a7fd37a2d72b10bc8e1252980b5/tenor.gif[/img][/move]
[center][img
width=20]
HTML http://renewablerevolution.createaforum.com/gallery/renewablerevolution/3-250817135149.gif[/img]<br
/>1984 [img
width=60]
HTML http://www.smiley-lol.com/smiley/exagerent/police/boulet.gif[/img]http://renewablerevolution.createaforum.com/gallery/renewablerevolution/3-040718162656-14241872.gif<br
/>by George Orwell: Full Audiobook[/center]
62,303 views
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/4nGoU3RprhY[/center]
Barry DeChest
2.24K subscribers
[center][img
width=640]
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[center][img
width=640]
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[center][img
width=640]
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[center][img
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#Post#: 16679--------------------------------------------------
Re: Books and Audio Books that may interest you 🧐
By: AGelbert Date: June 1, 2021, 9:30 pm
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[center][font=arial black]The Saga of Seven Suns[/font]
💫 [b]7 Books by Kevin J. Anderson [b] ✨
HTML https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Saga_of_Seven_Suns[/center]
#Post#: 16721--------------------------------------------------
THE LOST 🤖 STARSHIP 🧐
By: AGelbert Date: June 15, 2021, 4:50 pm
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[center][img
width=640]
HTML http://renewablerevolution.createaforum.com/gallery/renewablerevolution/2/3-150621173822.png[/img][/center]
FIRST 🔊 Audiobook: 🤖 [img
width=30]
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[center]THE LOST STARSHIP ( Lost Starship #1) by Vaughn Heppner
Audiobook Full 1/2[/center]
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/QogUeNNDB-4[/center]
[center]The Lost Starship ( Lost Starship #1) by Vaughn Heppner
Audiobook Full 2/2[/center]
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/AZdHcT49pD0[/center]
#Post#: 16903--------------------------------------------------
Re: Books and Audio Books that may interest you 🧐
By: AGelbert Date: September 19, 2021, 4:59 pm
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[center]Mere Christianity - C S Lewis [img
width=40]
HTML http://renewablerevolution.createaforum.com/gallery/renewablerevolution/1/3-120818185037-16412296.gif[/img]
(full audio book)[/center]
[center]
HTML https://youtu.be/A01sKjogGoI[/center]
The Remnant's Voice 4.6K subscribers
֍ Mere Christianity, by Clive Staples (“C. S.”) Lewis, was
first published in 1952 as an expansion of some radio talks
Lewis had given during World War II. Though Lewis himself is
best known for his children’s fantasy series, The Chronicles of
Narnia, Mere Christianity is likely Lewis’s most famous work of
Christian apologetics—a genre dedicated to addressing various
critiques of Christian theology. Lewis was well poised to make
this kind of argument, having grown disillusioned with
Christianity as a teenager only to return to it as an adult. The
success Mere Christianity has enjoyed since its publication is
also due to its accessibility; Lewis was a scholar of literature
rather than of theology, and so discusses complicated religious
concepts in more conversational terms than a non-layperson
might.
֍ At the book’s outset, Lewis states that that there are
aspects of Christian thought that have become muddled, and that
Christians themselves have been subject to internal strife.
Lewis seeks to restore unity to the Christian religion, focusing
on the difference between Christian and non-Christian belief (as
opposed to disputes between—and within—the various denominations
of Christianity).
֍ Lewis begins by discussing morality, arguing that almost
all humans have an innate sense of right and wrong, and that the
content of this moral code is largely universal. Although Lewis
acknowledges that cultural differences do exist, he believes
that these are generally minor and superficial. However, while
this moral law appears to be objective in a certain sense, it
isn’t binding; human beings have free will and can disobey it.
Lewis concludes Book 1 by suggesting that while only a force
similar to our own mind could provide us with a sense of what is
good and right, our own behavior must put us at odds with that
force a great deal of the time.
֍ In Book 2, Lewis moves on to consider various religious
ideas of what this force might be in light of his earlier
discussion of the existence of good and evil. Whereas Pantheists
believe that God is the universe, Christianity believes that God
created the universe. It follows that, for Pantheists, God is
both good and bad—or rather, that our understanding of good and
bad is the byproduct of our own limitations, and that God is
beyond such concepts. For Christians, by contrast, God is
infinitely good and wants humans to behave in particular ways.
Although Christianity recognizes that people can be wicked, it
does not see badness as inherent in the way that religious
Dualism does; to the Christian, all badness is ultimately
perverted goodness, twisted as a result of humanity’s fall,
which was the result of people thinking they could find
happiness outside of God. The Christian story is ultimately
about how the Son of God (Jesus Christ) took humanity’s sins
upon Himself, because only God could do “perfect” penance for
those sins and, in the process, restore us to our original
nature. It is up to us, however, to choose to partake in the
life that Christ’s sacrifice offers to us.
֍ Book 3 elaborates on what that choice looks like in
practice, expanding on the three “Theological” virtues (faith,
hope, and charity) and the four “Cardinal” virtues (prudence,
temperance, justice, and fortitude) that Christians should seek
to practice. He also devotes attention to the importance of
chastity outside of marriage, and to the form a truly Christian
society might take, emphasizing that it would likely not
correspond to modern political notions of right and left.
Finally, Lewis emphasizes the dangers of pride, which is the sin
from which all other sins ultimately flow.
֍ The final section of the book consists of basic
Christian theology, as Lewis understands it. Lewis discusses the
idea of a three-personed God (the Holy Trinity) and of God as
existing beyond linear human time. The bulk of his argument,
however, concerns the ultimate purpose of Christian morality,
which is to transform us into “sons of God” in the truest
sense—that is, to enable us to partake not only in biological
life but in the spiritual life of Christ. This process is
difficult; in fact, it is a kind of death. By choosing it,
however, we become a new sort of person—the sort of person God
intended us to be—and more fully ourselves. [img width=70
height=40]
HTML http://renewablerevolution.createaforum.com/gallery/renewablerevolution/3-060518153110.png[/img]
#Post#: 16943--------------------------------------------------
THE NEXT LOGICAL STEP by Benjamin William Bova
By: AGelbert Date: October 2, 2021, 8:29 pm
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[img
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[center]THE NEXT LOGICAL STEP[/center]
by Benjamin William Bova
[move]Ordinarily the military least wants to have the others
know the final details of their war plans. But, logically, there
would be times—[/move]
■ "I don't really see where this problem has anything to
do with me," the CIA man said. "And, frankly, there are a lot of
more important things I could be doing."
Ford, the physicist, glanced at General LeRoy. The general had
that quizzical expression on his face, the look that meant he
was about to do something decisive.
"Would you like to see the problem first-hand?" the general
asked, innocently.
The CIA man took a quick look at his wristwatch. "O.K., if it
doesn't take too long. It's late enough already."
"It won't take very long, will it, Ford?" the general said,
getting out of his chair.
"Not very long," Ford agreed. "Only a lifetime."
The CIA man grunted as they went to the doorway and left the
general's office. Going down the dark, deserted hallway, their
footsteps echoed hollowly.
"I can't overemphasize the seriousness of the problem," General
LeRoy said to the CIA man. "Eight ranking members of the General
Staff have either resigned their commissions or gone straight to
the violent ward after just one session with the computer."
The CIA man scowled. "Is this area Secure?"
General LeRoy's face turned red. "This entire building is as
Secure as any edifice in the Free World, mister. And it's empty.
We're the only living people inside here at this hour. I'm not
taking any chances."
"Just want to be sure."
"Perhaps if I explain the computer a little more," Ford said,
changing the subject, "you'll know what to expect."
"Good idea," said the man from CIA.
"We told you that this is the most modern, most complex and
delicate computer in the world ... nothing like it has ever been
attempted before—anywhere."
"I know that They don't have anything like it," the CIA man
agreed.
"And you also know, I suppose, that it was built to simulate
actual war situations. We fight wars in this computer ... wars
with missiles and bombs and gas. Real wars, complete down to the
tiniest detail. The computer tells us what will actually happen
to every missile, every city, every man ... who dies, how many
planes are lost, how many trucks will fail to start on a cold
morning, whether a battle is won or lost ..."
General LeRoy interrupted. "The computer runs these analyses for
both sides, so we can see what's happening to Them, too."
The CIA man gestured impatiently. "War games simulations aren't
new. You've been doing them for years."
"Yes, but this machine is different," Ford pointed out. "It not
only gives a much more detailed war game. It's the next logical
step in the development of machine-simulated war games." He
hesitated dramatically.
"Well, what is it?"
"We've added a variation of the electro-encephalograph ..."
The CIA man stopped walking. "The electro-what?"
"Electro-encephalograph. You know, a recording device that reads
the electrical patterns of your brain. Like the
electro-cardiograph."
"Oh."
"But you see, we've given the EEG a reverse twist. Instead of
using a machine that makes a recording of the brain's electrical
wave output, we've developed a device that will take the
computer's readout tapes, and turn them into electrical patterns
that are put into your brain!"
"I don't get it."
General LeRoy took over. "You sit at the machine's control
console. A helmet is placed over your head. You set the machine
in operation. You see the results."
"Yes," Ford went on. "Instead of reading rows of figures from
the computer's printer ... you actually see the war being
fought. Complete visual and auditory hallucinations. You can
watch the progress of the battles, and as you change strategy
and tactics you can see the results before your eyes."
"The idea, originally, was to make it easier for the General
Staff to visualize strategic situations," General LeRoy said.
"But every one who's used the machine has either resigned his
commission or gone insane," Ford added.
The CIA man cocked an eye at LeRoy. "You've used the computer."
"Correct."
"And you have neither resigned nor c r a c k e d up."
General LeRoy nodded. "I called you in."
Before the CIA man could comment, Ford said, "The computer's
right inside this doorway. Let's get this over with while the
building is still empty."
They stepped in. The physicist and the general showed the CIA
man through the room-filling rows of massive consoles.
"It's all transistorized and subminiaturized, of course," Ford
explained. "That's the only way we could build so much detail
into the machine and still have it small enough to fit inside a
single building."
"A single building?"
"Oh yes; this is only the control section. Most of this building
is taken up by the circuits, the memory banks, and the rest of
it."
"Hm-m-m."
They showed him finally to a small desk, studded with control
buttons and dials. The single spotlight above the desk lit it
brilliantly, in harsh contrast to the semidarkness of the rest
of the room.
"Since you've never run the computer before," Ford said,
"General LeRoy will do the controlling. You just sit and watch
what happens."
The general sat in one of the well-padded chairs and donned a
grotesque headgear that was connected to the desk by a
half-dozen wires. The CIA man took his chair slowly.
When they put one of the bulky helmets on him, he looked up at
them, squinting a little in the bright light. "This ... this
isn't going to ... well, do me any damage, is it?"
"My goodness, no," Ford said. "You mean mentally? No, of course
not. You're not on the General Staff, so it shouldn't ... it
won't ... affect you the way it did the others. Their reaction
had nothing to do with the computer per se ..."
"Several civilians have used the computer with no ill effects,"
General LeRoy said. "Ford has used it many times."
The CIA man nodded, and they closed the transparent visor over
his face. He sat there and watched General LeRoy press a series
of buttons, then turn a dial.
"Can you hear me?" The general's voice came muffled through the
helmet.
"Yes," he said.
"All right. Here we go. You're familiar with Situation
One-Two-One? That's what we're going to be seeing."
Situation One-Two-One was a standard war game. The CIA man was
well acquainted with it. He watched the general flip a switch,
then sit back and fold his arms over his chest. A row of lights
on the desk console began blinking on and off, one, two, three
... down to the end of the row, then back to the beginning
again, on and off, on and off ...
And then, somehow, he could see it!
[center][img
width=640]
HTML https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/28063/images/002.png[/img][/center]
[center]Illustrated by George Luther Schelling[/center]
He was poised incredibly somewhere in space, and he could see it
all in a funny, blurry-double-sighted, dream-like way. He seemed
to be seeing several pictures and hearing many voices, all at
once. It was all mixed up, and yet it made a weird kind of
sense.
For a panicked instant he wanted to rip the helmet off his head.
It's only an illusion, he told himself, forcing calm on his
unwilling nerves. Only an illusion.
But it seemed strangely real.
He was watching the Gulf of Mexico. He could see Florida off to
his right, and the arching coast of the southeastern United
States. He could even make out the Rio Grande River.
Situation One-Two-One started, he remembered, with the discovery
of missile-bearing Enemy submarines in the Gulf. Even as he
watched the whole area—as though perched on a satellite—he could
see, underwater and close-up, the menacing shadowy figure of a
submarine gliding through the crystal blue sea.
He saw, too, a patrol plane as it spotted the submarine and sent
an urgent radio warning.
The underwater picture dissolved in a bewildering burst of
bubbles. A missile had been launched. Within seconds, another
burst—this time a nuclear depth charge—utterly destroyed the
submarine.
It was confusing. He was everyplace at once. The details were
overpowering, but the total picture was agonizingly clear.
Six submarines fired missiles from the Gulf of Mexico. Four were
immediately sunk, but too late. New Orleans, St. Louis and three
Air Force bases were obliterated by hydrogen-fusion warheads.
The CIA man was familiar with the opening stages of the war. The
first missile fired at the United States was the signal for
whole fleets of missiles and bombers to launch themselves at the
Enemy. It was confusing to see the world at once; at times he
could not tell if the fireball and mushroom cloud was over
Chicago or Shanghai, New York or Novosibirsk, Baltimore or
Budapest.
It did not make much difference, really. They all got it in the
first few hours of the war; as did London and Moscow, Washington
and Peking, Detroit and Delhi, and many, many more.
The defensive systems on all sides seemed to operate well,
except that there were never enough anti-missiles. Defensive
systems were expensive compared to attack rockets. It was
cheaper to build a deterrent than to defend against it.
The missiles flashed up from submarines and railway cars, from
underground silos and stratospheric jets; secret ones fired off
automatically when a certain airbase command post ceased beaming
out a restraining radio signal. The defensive systems were
simply overloaded. And when the bombs ran out, the missiles
carried dust and germs and gas. On and on. For six days and six
firelit nights. Launch, boost, coast, re-enter, death.
And now it was over, the CIA man thought. The missiles were all
gone. The airplanes were exhausted. The nations that had built
the weapons no longer existed. By all the rules he knew of, the
war should have been ended.
Yet the fighting did not end. The machine knew better. There
were still many ways to kill an enemy. Time-tested ways. There
were armies fighting in four continents, armies that had marched
overland, or splashed ashore from the sea, or dropped out of the
skies.
Incredibly, the war went on. When the tanks ran out of gas, and
the flame throwers became useless, and even the prosaic
artillery pieces had no more rounds to fire, there were still
simple guns and even simpler bayonets and swords.
The proud armies, the descendents of the Alexanders and Caesars
and Temujins and Wellingtons and Grants and Rommels, relived
their evolution in reverse.
The war went on. Slowly, inevitably, the armies split apart into
smaller and smaller units, until the tortured countryside that
so recently had felt the impact of nuclear war once again knew
the tread of bands of armed marauders. The tiny savage groups,
stranded in alien lands, far from the homes and families that
they knew to be destroyed, carried on a mockery of war, lived
off the land, fought their own countrymen if the occasion
suited, and revived the ancient terror of hand-wielded,
personal, one-head-at-a-time killing.
The CIA man watched the world disintegrate. Death was an
individual business now, and none the better for no longer being
mass-produced. In agonized fascination he saw the myriad ways in
which a man might die. Murder was only one of them. Radiation,
disease, toxic gases that lingered and drifted on the
once-innocent winds, and—finally—the most efficient destroyer of
them all: starvation.
Three billion people (give or take a meaningless hundred
million) lived on the planet Earth when the war began. Now, with
the tenuous thread of civilization burned away, most of those
who were not killed by the fighting itself succumbed inexorably
to starvation.
Not everyone died, of course. Life went on. Some were lucky.
A long darkness settled on the world. Life went on for a few, a
pitiful few, a bitter, hateful, suspicious, savage few. Cities
became pestholes. Books became fuel. Knowledge died.
Civilization was completely gone from the planet Earth.
The helmet was lifted slowly off his head. The CIA man found
that he was too weak to raise his arms and help. He was
shivering and damp with perspiration.
"Now you see," Ford said quietly, "why the military men **** up
when they used the computer."
General LeRoy, even, was pale. "How can a man with any
conscience at all direct a military operation when he knows that
that will be the consequence?"
The CIA man struck up a cigarette and pulled hard on it. He
exhaled sharply. "Are all the war games ... like that? Every
plan?"
"Some are worse," Ford said. "We picked an average one for you.
Even some of the 'brushfire' games get out of hand and end up
like that."
"So ... what do you intend to do? Why did you call me in? What
can I do?"
"You're with CIA," the general said. "Don't you handle
espionage?"
"Yes, but what's that got to do with it?"
The general looked at him. "It seems to me that the next logical
step is to make damned certain that They get the plans to this
computer ... and fast!" ■
HTML https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/28063/pg28063-images.html
[img
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Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from [i]Analog
Science Fact & Fiction May 1962. Extensive research did not
uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication
was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been
corrected without note.[/i]
More Free Science Fiction 🔊 Audio or text:
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/>
#Post#: 16948--------------------------------------------------
Off Course By Mack Reynolds
By: AGelbert Date: October 3, 2021, 9:50 pm
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[center]Off Course[/center]
By Mack Reynolds
Illustrated by Kelly Freas
[center][img
width=640]
HTML https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/30035/images/001.png[/img][/center]
Shure and begorra, it was a great day for the Earth! The first
envoy from another world was about to speak—that is, if he could
forget that horse for a minute...
FIRST ON the scene were Larry Dermott and Tim Casey of the State
Highway Patrol. They assumed they were witnessing the crash of a
new type of Air Force plane and slipped and skidded desperately
across the field to within thirty feet of the strange craft,
only to discover that the landing had been made without
accident.
Patrolman Dermott shook his head. "They're gettin' queerer
looking every year. Get a load of it—no wheels, no propeller, no
cockpit."
They left the car and made their way toward the strange
egg-shaped vessel.
Tim Casey loosened his .38 in its holster and said, "Sure, and
I'm beginning to wonder if it's one of ours. No insignia and—"
A circular door slid open at that point and Dameri Tass stepped
out, yawning. He spotted them, smiled and said, "Glork."
They gaped at him.
"Glork is right," Dermott swallowed.
Tim Casey closed his mouth with an effort. "Do you mind the
color of his face?" he blurted.
"How could I help it?"
Dameri Tass rubbed a blue-nailed pink hand down his purplish
countenance and yawned again. "Gorra manigan horp soratium," he
said.
Patrolman Dermott and Patrolman Casey shot stares at each other.
"'Tis double talk he's after givin' us," Casey said.
Dameri Tass frowned. "Harama?" he asked.
Larry Dermott pushed his cap to the back of his head. "That
doesn't sound like any language I've even heard about."
Dameri Tass grimaced, turned and reentered his spacecraft to
emerge in half a minute with his hands full of contraption. He
held a box-like arrangement under his left arm; in his right
hand were two metal caps connected to the box by wires.
While the patrolmen watched him, he set the box on the ground,
twirled two dials and put one of the caps on his head. He
offered the other to Larry Dermott; his desire was obvious.
Trained to grasp a situation and immediately respond in manner
best suited to protect the welfare of the people of New York
State, Dermott cleared his throat and said, "Tim, take over
while I report."
"Hey!" Casey protested, but his fellow minion had left.
"Mandaia," Dameri Tass told Casey, holding out the metal cap.
"Faith, an' do I look balmy?" Casey told him. "I wouldn't be
puttin' that dingus on my head for all the colleens in Ireland."
"Mandaia," the stranger said impatiently.
"Bejasus," Casey snorted, "ye can't—"
Dermott called from the car, "Tim, the captain says to humor
this guy. We're to keep him here until the officials arrive."
Tim Casey closed his eyes and groaned. "Humor him, he's after
sayin'. Orders it is." He shouted back, "Sure, an' did ye tell
'em he's in technicolor? Begorra, he looks like a man from
Mars."
"That's what they think," Larry yelled, "and the governor is on
his way. We're to do everything possible short of violence to
keep this character here. Humor him, Tim!"
"Mandaia," Dameri Tass snapped, pushing the cap into Casey's
reluctant hands.
Muttering his protests, Casey lifted it gingerly and placed it
on his head. Not feeling any immediate effect, he said, "There,
'tis satisfied ye are now, I'm supposin'."
The alien stooped down and flicked a switch on the little box.
It hummed gently. Tim Casey suddenly shrieked and sat down on
the stubble and grass of the field. "Begorra," he yelped, "I've
been murthered!" He tore the cap from his head.
His companion came running, "What's the matter, Tim?" he
shouted.
Dameri Tass removed the metal cap from his own head. "Sure, an'
nothin' is after bein' the matter with him," he said. "Evidently
the bhoy has niver been a-wearin' of a kerit helmet afore.
'Twill hurt him not at all."
"YOU CAN talk!" Dermott blurted, skidding to a stop.
Dameri Tass shrugged. "Faith, an' why not? As I was after
sayin', I shared the kerit helmet with Tim Casey."
Patrolman Dermott glared at him unbelievingly. "You learned the
language just by sticking that Rube Goldberg deal on Tim's
head?"
"Sure, an' why not?"
Dermott muttered, "And with it he has to pick up the corniest
brogue west of Dublin."
Tim Casey got to his feet indignantly. "I'm after resentin'
that, Larry Dermott. Sure, an' the way we talk in Ireland is—"
Dameri Tass interrupted, pointing to a bedraggled horse that had
made its way to within fifty feet of the vessel. "Now what could
that be after bein'?"
The patrolmen followed his stare. "It's a horse. What else?"
"A horse?"
Larry Dermott looked again, just to make sure. "Yeah—not much of
a horse, but a horse."
Dameri Tass sighed ecstatically. "And jist what is a horse, if I
may be so bold as to be askin'?"
"It's an animal you ride on."
The alien tore his gaze from the animal to look his disbelief at
the other. "Are you after meanin' that you climb upon the
crature's back and ride him? Faith now, quit your blarney."
He looked at the horse again, then down at his equipment.
"Begorra," he muttered, "I'll share the kerit helmet with the
crature."
"Hey, hold it," Dermott said anxiously. He was beginning to feel
like a character in a shaggy dog story.
Interest in the horse was ended with the sudden arrival of a
helicopter. It swooped down on the field and settled within
twenty feet of the alien craft. Almost before it had touched,
the door was flung open and the flying windmill disgorged two
bestarred and efficient-looking Army officers.
Casey and Dermott snapped them a salute.
The senior general didn't take his eyes from the alien and the
spacecraft as he spoke, and they bugged quite as effectively as
had those of the patrolmen when they'd first arrived on the
scene.
"I'm Major General Browning," he rapped. "I want a police cordon
thrown up around this, er, vessel. No newsmen, no sightseers,
nobody without my permission. As soon as Army personnel arrives,
we'll take over completely."
"Yes, sir," Larry Dermott said. "I just got a report on the
radio that the governor is on his way, sir. How about him?"
The general muttered something under his breath. Then, "When the
governor arrives, let me know; otherwise, nobody gets through!"
Dameri Tass said, "Faith, and what goes on?"
The general's eyes bugged still further. "He talks!" he accused.
"Yes, sir," Dermott said. "He had some kind of a machine. He put
it over Tim's head and seconds later he could talk."
"Nonsense!" the general snapped.
Further discussion was interrupted by the screaming arrival of
several motorcycle patrolmen followed by three heavily laden
patrol cars. Overhead, pursuit planes zoomed in and began
darting about nervously above the field.
"Sure, and it's quite a reception I'm after gettin'," Dameri
Tass said. He yawned. "But what I'm wantin' is a chance to get
some sleep. Faith, an' I've been awake for almost a decal."
DAMERI TASS was hurried, via helicopter, to Washington. There he
disappeared for several days, being held incommunicado while
White House, Pentagon, State Department and Congress tried to
figure out just what to do with him.
Never in the history of the planet had such a furor arisen. Thus
far, no newspapermen had been allowed within speaking distance.
Administration higher-ups were being subjected to a volcano of
editorial heat but the longer the space alien was discussed the
more they viewed with alarm the situation his arrival had
precipitated. There were angles that hadn't at first been
evident.
Obviously he was from some civilization far beyond that of
Earth's. That was the rub. No matter what he said, it would
shake governments, possibly overthrow social systems, perhaps
even destroy established religious concepts.
But they couldn't keep him under wraps indefinitely.
It was the United Nations that c r a c k e d the iron curtain.
Their demands that the alien be heard before their body were too
strong and had too much public opinion behind them to be
ignored. The White House yielded and the date was set for the
visitor to speak before the Assembly.
Excitement, anticipation, blanketed the world. Shepherds in
Sinkiang, multi-millionaires in Switzerland, fakirs in Pakistan,
gauchos in the Argentine were raised to a zenith of expectation.
Panhandlers debated the message to come with pedestrians;
jinrikisha men argued it with their passengers; miners discussed
it deep beneath the surface; pilots argued with their co-pilots
thousands of feet above.
It was the most universally awaited event of the ages.
By the time the delegates from every nation, tribe, religion,
class, color, and race had gathered in New York to receive the
message from the stars, the majority of Earth had decided that
Dameri Tass was the plenipotentiary of a super-civilization
which had been viewing developments on this planet with
misgivings. It was thought this other civilization had advanced
greatly beyond Earth's and that the problems besetting
us—social, economic, scientific—had been solved by the
super-civilization. Obviously, then, Dameri Tass had come, an
advisor from a benevolent and friendly people, to guide the
world aright.
And nine-tenths of the population of Earth stood ready and
willing to be guided. The other tenth liked things as they were
and were quite convinced that the space envoy would upset their
applecarts.
VILJALMAR ANDERSEN, Secretary-General of the U.N., was to
introduce the space emissary. "Can you give me an idea at all of
what he is like?" he asked nervously.
President McCord was as upset as the Dane. He shrugged in
agitation. "I know almost as little as you do."
Sir Alfred Oxford protested, "But my dear chap, you've had him
for almost two weeks. Certainly in that time—"
The President snapped back, "You probably won't believe this,
but he's been asleep until yesterday. When he first arrived he
told us he hadn't slept for a decal, whatever that is; so we
held off our discussion with him until morning. Well—he didn't
awaken in the morning, nor the next. Six days later, fearing
something was wrong we woke him."
"What happened?" Sir Alfred asked.
The President showed embarrassment. "He used some rather ripe
Irish profanity on us, rolled over, and went back to sleep."
Viljalmar Andersen asked, "Well, what happened yesterday?"
"We actually haven't had time to question him. Among other
things, there's been some controversy about whose jurisdiction
he comes under. The State Department claims the Army shouldn't—"
The Secretary General sighed deeply. "Just what did he do?"
"The Secret Service reports he spent the day whistling Mother
Machree and playing with his dog, cat and mouse."
"Dog, cat and mouse? I say!" blurted Sir Alfred.
The President was defensive. "He had to have some occupation,
and he seems to be particularly interested in our animal life.
He wanted a horse but compromised for the others. I understand
he insists all three of them come with him wherever he goes."
"I wish we knew what he was going to say," Andersen worried.
"Here he comes," said Sir Alfred.
Surrounded by F.B.I. men, Dameri Tass was ushered to the
speaker's stand. He had a kitten in his arms; a Scotty followed
him.
The alien frowned worriedly. "Sure," he said, "and what kin all
this be? Is it some ordinance I've been after breakin'?"
McCord, Sir Alfred and Andersen hastened to reassure him and
made him comfortable in a chair.
Viljalmar Andersen faced the thousands in the audience and held
up his hands, but it was ten minutes before he was able to quiet
the cheering, stamping delegates from all Earth.
Finally: "Fellow Terrans, I shall not take your time for a
lengthy introduction of the envoy from the stars. I will only
say that, without doubt, this is the most important moment in
the history of the human race. We will now hear from the first
being to come to Earth from another world."
He turned and gestured to Dameri Tass who hadn't been paying
overmuch attention to the chairman in view of some dog and cat
hostilities that had been developing about his feet.
But now the alien's purplish face faded to a light blue. He
stood and said hoarsely. "Faith, an' what was that last you
said?"
Viljalmar Andersen repeated, "We will now hear from the first
being ever to come to Earth from another world."
The face of the alien went a lighter blue. "Sure, an' ye
wouldn't jist be frightenin' a body, would ye? You don't mean to
tell me this planet isn't after bein' a member of the Galactic
League?"
Andersen's face was blank. "Galactic League?"
"Cushlamachree," Dameri Tass moaned. "I've gone and put me foot
in it again. I'll be after getting kert for this."
Sir Alfred was on his feet. "I don't understand! Do you mean you
aren't an envoy from another planet?"
Dameri Tass held his head in his hands and groaned. "An envoy,
he's sayin', and meself only a second-rate collector of
specimens for the Carthis zoo."
He straightened and started off the speaker's stand. "Sure, an'
I must blast off immediately."
Things were moving fast for President McCord but already an edge
of relief was manifesting itself. Taking the initiative, he
said, "Of course, of course, if that is your desire." He
signaled to the bodyguard who had accompanied the alien to the
assemblage.
A dull roar was beginning to emanate from the thousands gathered
in the tremendous hall, murmuring, questioning, disbelieving.
VILJALMAR ANDERSEN felt that he must say something. He extended
a detaining hand. "Now you are here," he said urgently, "even
though by mistake, before you go can't you give us some brief
word? Our world is in chaos. Many of us have lost faith. Perhaps
..."
Dameri Tass shook off the restraining hand. "Do I look daft?
Begorry, I should have been a-knowin' something was queer. All
your weapons and your strange ideas. Faith, I wouldn't be
surprised if ye hadn't yet established a planet-wide government.
Sure, an' I'll go still further. Ye probably still have wars on
this benighted world. No wonder it is ye haven't been invited to
join the Galactic League an' take your place among the civilized
planets."
He hustled from the rostrum and made his way, still surrounded
by guards, to the door by which he had entered. The dog and the
cat trotted after, undismayed by the furor about them.
They arrived about four hours later at the field on which he'd
landed, and the alien from space hurried toward his craft, still
muttering. He'd been accompanied by a general and by the
President, but all the way he had refrained from speaking.
He scurried from the car and toward the spacecraft.
President McCord said, "You've forgotten your pets. We would be
glad if you would accept them as—"
The alien's face faded a light blue again. "Faith, an' I'd
almost forgotten," he said. "If I'd taken a crature from this
quarantined planet, my name'd be nork. Keep your dog and your
kitty." He shook his head sadly and extracted a mouse from a
pocket. "An' this amazin' little crature as well."
They followed him to the spacecraft. Just before entering, he
spotted the bedraggled horse that had been present on his
landing.
A longing expression came over his highly colored face. "Jist
one thing," he said. "Faith now, were they pullin' my leg when
they said you were after ridin' on the back of those things?"
The President looked at the woebegone nag. "It's a horse," he
said, surprised. "Man has been riding them for centuries."
Dameri Tass shook his head. "Sure, an' 'twould've been my makin'
if I could've taken one back to Carthis." He entered his vessel.
The others drew back, out of range of the expected blast, and
watched, each with his own thoughts, as the first visitor from
space hurriedly left Earth.
... THE END
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