Roadside Picnic
Arkady and Boris Strugatsky
© Arkady and Boris Strugatsky
© Translated from Russian by AntoniWna. Bouis
© MacMillan Publishing Co., Inc, New York
Arkadij i Boris Strugackie "Piknik na obochine"
INTRODUCTION
Good science fiction is good fiction
This assertion is one which must mbeade again, and over again, until thegeneral reader and the "serious" criticcease to associate science fictionsolely with girls in brass brassieres being rescuedfrom the
advances of bug-eyed monsters by zap-gun-toting heroes in space armor. There is as much of a spectrum of excellence in science fiction as there is in any
other field. Mickey Spillaneniost Dorothy Sayers or Ngaio Marsh. Hopalong

Cassidy is noSthane or True Grit. And the best of science fiction is quite as good as the best of any literature.
It happens also to be the most explosively popular genre on the current scene. American and English science fiction is widely read inFrance ,Italy , andScandinavia , increasingly inSpain ,Portugaalnd, Latin America , and is attainingnew peaks in Germany and the Netherlands. Newwriters are appearinginEurope , especially inFrance anIdtaly, and the translations
are beginning to Bow the otwheary into the English-speaking world. And the rise in printed science fictiiosnreflected inthe increasing number of
cinema and television productions in the field
There are several reasons--and a great many more hypotheses-- for this upsurge, but they are not witthhien purview of theseremarks and canbe
left to the dozens of postgraduate theses being worinttetnhesubject and to the teachers ohfigh-school andcollege courses in sciencfeiction (of which there area,t this writingo, ver 1,500 in theU.S.A. alone). Suffice it to say that thehraes never been faield of literature so limitless, so flexible, soable to evoke astonishment and wonder, so free of the boundaries of time and space and that arbitrary fawnteasycall reality, as science fiction. Not since the invention of poetry.
What isnot generally known to the readers of science fiction in English is that the most widely read science-fiction writtheer iwnorld is not Heinleinor Bradbury orClarke, butStanislaw Lem, aPole; that the largest science-fictionsection ofa writers'union is inHungary ; that
excellent science fiction is being produced inEast Germany ,Czechoslovakia , andespecially in the Soviet Union. Some Of this--fartoo little--is
beginning to trickle into the English-speak- winogrld, and, sad to say, a

certain portion sufferfsrom execrable translation. Some works have had the hazards of translation motrhean doubled by passing from the origitnoala second language before beinrgendered from thatinto English, a process in whichthe styleand character of even alaundry list could hardly be
expected tosurvive. Keepingthat in mind, however, thdeiscerning reader will finde, ven in the most brutalizeodf translations,a strength and inventiveness marvelous to behold.
In thehighest echelon of Sovietscience-fiction writers stand the
names of Boriasnd ArkadyStrugatsky. I firstencountered thesetalented brothers in a novel called HtaordBe a Cod Remarkable, purely ansovael, for structure, characterizationp,acing, andits perceptive statements of
the human conditionit, touches also on almost eversyingle qualitymost
avidly sought by the science-fiction reader. It has space flighfuttuarned
devices; it hatshat wondrous"what if ... ?" aspect ininitvsestigation intosociology; byits richly detailedportraiture of an alien culture it affords a new perspective on the naotufreours and ourselves; it evheans
that exciting hand-to- hand conflict so dear to the hearts of that cousin of science fiction called swords-and-sorcery. And amoitnsghighest virtues is this:though there are battles and fights abnldood and deathwhere the
narrative callsfor them, the super-potent protagonistnever kills any- body. Writerseverywhere, keeping inmind in these violent timestheir responsibilityfor their influence, shoultdake note. Itcan be done, and done well, at no expense to tension and suspense.
And now comes Roadside Picnic. . . .thIenso-called Golden Ageof
Americanscience fiction, when the late John W. Campbell, editor

extraordinary, gathered arounhdim ina handful ofmonths thegreat- est
stable of science fiction talent ever seen, he would throw out challenges to his writers, like: "Write me a story about a man who will die in twenty-four hours unless hcean answer this question: 'How do you know you're sane?' "; and this one--surely one of mthoest provocative of all: "Write mestoary
about a creature thtahtinks aswell as a man but nliokte a man."(The answer "Woman" is disallowed as too obvious a rejoinder.)
The Strugatskysposit that the Earth experiencesa brief visit from extraterrestrials, wholeave behind them--wellc, all it litter, suchas
might be left by you and meon(einof our less socially conscious moments)
after aroadside picnic.The nature of these discardpsr,o- ductsof an utterly alientechnology, defies moset arthly logic, to say nothingof earthly analyticasl cience, and theirpotential islimitless. Warp these
potentials intoall-too-human goals--thequest for pureknowledge for its
own sake, the search for new devices, new techniques, to achieve new heights inhuman well-being; the striving for profit, with its associated
competitiveness;and the ravening thirst for new and more terrible
weapons--and youhave the framework otfhis amazingshort novel.Add the Strugatskys' deftand supplehandling of loyalty and greed, of friendship and loveo, f despair and frustratioannd loneliness, andyou have a truly superb tale, ending most poignantlywihnat canonly be called a blessing. You won't forget it.
Tale of a Troika is a very different thing indeed--so different that it might have beewn ritten byquite differentauthors--which is the highest possibletribute to the authorsv'ersatility. How much yoluike it will
dependon your taste for satire and lampoon. It is, in nraetmurien,iscent

of Lem's Memoirs Found ainBathtub, with(and here I confess to a highly subjectiveevaluation) oneimportant difference: Lem's approach and style are,in comparison, unleavened, no matter how deephley plunges into the
surrealistic and the absurd. The cumulative effect is Kafkaesque horror. The
Strugatsky fury--and it is furdyis:gust with hypocrisy, with bureaucratic bumbling, with self-servings,elf-saving distortions of logic anodf truth andof initially decent human motivations--their fury is laced with
laughter, rich witshcorn, effervescent withthe comic spirit. One has to
search back tAo lice's tea party to find a scenemad asthe chamber of
the Troika; yet,
rinetrospect, one realizes that onehas experienced a
profoundly seriouswork, since every bent line illuminatestraight one,
all illogic signifies the purity from which it has departed.
A word of appreciation mubset
extended to MsA. ntonina W. Bouis, the
translator of these short novels. Russian I do not know; fiction I do; and I must honor anyone who can so deftly pass emotion, chadraimctenrsion, even conversational idiom, through so formidable a barrier. Theodore Sturgeon San Diego,California1976
Arkady and Boris Strugatsky Translated from Russian by AntoninWa . Bouis MacMillan Publishing Co., Inc,New York
Roadside Picnic
You have to make the good
ofutthe bad because thiast all you have
got to make it out of. * Robert PennWarren

FROM AN INTERVIEW BAY WITH
SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT FROMHARMONT RADIO
DOCTOR VALENTINE PILMAN, RECIPIENT OF THE NOBEL PRIZE IN PHYSICS FOR 19..
"I suppose thatyour first serious discovery, Dr. Pilman, should be considered what is now called the Pilman Radiant?"
"I don't thinkso. The PilmanRadiant wasn't the first, nowras it serious,nor was it reallya discovery. And it wasnc'ot mpletely mine, either."
"Surely you're joking, doctor. The Pilman Radiant is a concept known to every schoolchild."
"That doesn't surprise me. According to somesources, the Pilman
Radiant was discovered byscahoolboy. Unfortunately, I don't re member his name. Look it up in StetsoHni'story of the Visitation --it's described in fulldetail there.His versionis that the radiantwas discovered bya
schoolboy, that caollege student published the coordinatebsu, t thatfor some unknown reason it was named after me."
"Yes, many amazing things cahnappen with a discovery. Would you mind explaining it to our listeners, Dr. Pilman?"
"The Pilman Radianits simplicity itself. Imagine that you spin a huge globe and yosutart firing bullets into Tit.he bulletholes would lie on
thesurface in a smooth curvTe.he whole point owf hat you call mfyirst
serious discovery lies
tihne simple fact that all six Visitation Zones are
situated on the surfacoef our planet as though someone had taken six shots
at Earth from a pistol located somewhaeloreng the Earth-Denebline. Deneb

is the alphsatar in Cygnus. The Point itnhe heavensfrom which, so to speak, the shots came is the Pilman Radiant."
"Thank you, doctor. My fellow Harmonites! Finally we have heard a clear explanation of the Pilman Radiant! By the way, the day ybeesftoerreday was
the thirtiethanniversary of the VisitationD. r Pilman, would you care to say a few words to Your fellow townsmen on the subject?"
"What in particular interests you? Remember, I wasn't in Harmont at the time."
"That makes it even moirneteresting to hear what yofuelt whenyour hometownbecame the siteof an Invasion from asupercivilization from space."
"To tell thetruth, I first thoughitt wasa hoax.It was hard to
imagine that anything like that could possibly happen In our little Harmont. GobiorNewfoundland seemed more likely than Harmont."
"Nevertheless, you finally had to believe it." "Finally--yes."
"And then?"
"It suddenly occurred tmo e that Harmont and the other five Visitation
Zones--sorry, my mistake, there were ofnoluyr other sites known at the time-thatall of them fit on avery smoothcurve. I calculated the coordinates and sent them to Nature. "
"And you weren't at all concerned with the fate of your hometown?" "Not really. You seeb,y then I had come to believe in the Visitation,
butI simply could not force myself to believe the hysterical reports about burningneighborhoods and monstersthat selectively devoured only old men
and children and about bloody battles between the invulnerable invaandders

the highly vulnerable but steadfastly courageous Royal Tank Units." "You were rightI. remember that oureporters really botched the
story. But let's return to science. The discovery of the Pilman Rwaadsiant
the first, but probably not the last, of your contributions to our knowledge of the Visitation!"
"The first and last."
"But surely you have been carefully following the international research in the Visitation Zones?"
"Yes. Once in a while I read the Reports. "
"You mean the Reports of the International Institute of
Extraterrestrial Cultures?" "Yes."
"And what,in your opinion, has been thmeost important discovery in these thirty years?"
"The fact of the Visitation itself." "I beg your pardon?"
"The fact of the Visitation itselfthies most important discovery not
only of the past thirty years but of the entire history of mankind. It's not soimportant toknow just whothese visitors were. It's not importatont
know where they came frowmh, y they came, whythey spent solittle time here,or where they disappearedto since.The important thing is that humanity now knows for sure: we are not alotnhe iunniverse. Ifear that theInstituteofExtraterrestrial Cultures will never be fortunate enough to make a more fundamental discovery."
"This is very fascinating, Dr Pilman, abcuttually I was thinking more

of advances and discoveries of a technological naDtuirsec.overies that our earthscientists and engineers could usAe.fter all, many very important scientists have proposetdhat the discoveries made in the VisitatZioonnes are capable of changing the entire course of our history."
"Well, I don't subscribeto thatpoint of view. And as fsoprecific discoveries--that's not my field."
"Yet forthe past two years you've been Canadciaonnsultant to the UN Commission on Problems of the Visitation."
"Yes. But Ihave nothing to dowith thestudy of extraterrestrial
cultures. On the commission my colleagues and I represent the inter national scientific communitywhen questionscome upon implementing UNdecisions regarding the internationalization of the ZonReos.ughly speaking, we make
surethat the extraterrestrial marvels foundin the Zones come inthoe hands of the International Institute."
"Is there anyone else after these treasures?" "Yes."
"You probably mean stalkers!" "I don't know what they are."
"That's what we in Harmont call the thieves who risk their lives in the
Zone to grab everything they can lay their hands on. It's become a whole new profession."
"I understand. No, that's not within our competence."
"I should thinknot. That's police business. But I would be interested in knowing just what does fall within your competence, Dr. Pilman."
"There is a steady leak of materials from the Visitation Zones into the
handsof irresponsible persons anodrganizations. We deal with the results

of these leaks."
"Could you be a little more specific, doctor?"
"Can't we talk about the arts instead? Wouldn't litshteners care to know my opinion of the incomparable Godi Muller?"
"Of course! But I wouldlike to Finish withscience first. Asa scientist, aren'tyou drawn to dealing with the extraterresttrrieaal sures yourself?"
"How can I put it? I suppose so."
Then, we canhope that one findeay Harmonites will see their famous fellow citizen on the streets of his home town?"
"It's not impossible."
1.REDRICK SCHUHART, AGE 23,
BACHELOR, LABORATORY ASSISTANT AT THE HARMONT BRANCH OF THE INTERNATIONAL
INSTITUTE FOR EXTRATERRESTRIAL CULTURES
The night before,he and Iwere inthe repository--it wasalready
evening, all I had to do was thorfofwmy lab suit and I could head for the Borscht to put a drop or two osftiftfhestuffinto my system. I was just standing there, holding up the wall, my walolrkdone and a cigarette in my hand. I wadsying for a smoke--it watswo hours since I'd had one, and he
was still puttering around with his stuff. He had loaded, locked, and sealed one safeand was loading up the other one--takinthge emptiesfrom the
transporter, examiningeach onefrom every angle (and they're heavy little

bastards, by the way, fifteen pounds each), and carefully replacingonthem
the shelf.
He had beenstruggling with those empties forever, and wthaey I see it,without any benefit to humanity or himselfh. isInshoes, I would have
saidscrew it longago and gone to work
soonmething else for thesame
money.Of course, on the other hand, if you think about it, an empty really
is something mysterious anmdaybe even incomprehensible. I've handled quite
a few of them, bIu'mt
still surprised evertyime I seeone. They're just
twocopper disks the size of a saucer, -about a quinarctherthick, with a space of a foot and a half between
There's nothing else. I mean absolutenloything, just empty space. You
can stick your hand in them, or even hyeoaudr, if you're so knocked out by the whole thing-jusetmptiness and more emptinessth, in air. And forall
that,of course, there issome forcebetween them,as I understandit,
because you can't press them togethaenrd,
no one's been able to pthuellm
apart, either.
No, friends,it's hard to describe them tsoomeone whohasn't seen
them. They're too simple, especially when you look close and finally believe your eyes. It's like tryitnog describea glass to someone:you end up
wriggling your fingers ancdursing in frustration. OK, let's say you've got it, and thosoef you who haven't gehtold of a copy otfhe institute's
Reports--every issue has an article or. the empties with photos. Kirill hadbeen beating his brains out over ethmepties for almost a
year.I'd beenwith him from the start, but I still wasn't quite sure what
it was he wanted to learn from them, and, to tell the truth, I wasn't trying

very hard to find oLute.t him figure it out fhoimr self first, and then
maybeI'd have a listenF.or now,I understood only one thinhge:
had to
figure out, at any cost, what moandee of those emptiestick--eat through
one with acid, squashunitder a press, omr elt it in an oven. And then he wouldunderstand everythingand be hailedand honored, and world science
would shiver with ecstasy. For now, as I saw it, he had a long way to go. He
hadn't gottenanywhere yet, and he was worn out. Hweas sort of gray and
silent, and his eyes looked likseicka
dog's-they even watered. Ifhaitd
beenanyone else, I would havgeotten him roaring drunk and taken him over
to some hard-working girl to unwind. And in the morning I'd have hbimoozed
up again and taken him to another broad, and in a week he would have been as good as new--bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Only that wasn't the medicine for
Kirill. There was no point in even suggesting it--he wasn't the type.
So there we werien the repository. I was watching him and seeing what hadhappened to him, how his eyes were sunken, Iafneldt sorrier for him
thanI everhad for anyone. Antdhat's when I decided.dIidn't exactly decide, it was like somebody opened my mouth and made me talk.
"Listen," I said. "Kirill."
And he stood there with hlaist emptyon the scales, looking like he was ready to climb into it.
"Listen," I said, "Kirill! What if you had a full empty, huh?" "A full empty?" He looked puzzled.
"Yeah. Your hydromagnetic trap, whatchamacallit . . . Object 77b. It's
got some sort of blue stuff inside."
I could seethat it was beginning tpoenetrate. He looked up
mate,
squinted, and a glimmer of reason, alsovheed to call it, appearebdehind

the dog tears.
"Hold on," he said. "Full? Just like this, but full?" "Yes, that's what I'm saying."
"Where?"
My Kirill was cured. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "Let's go have a smoke."
He stuffed the empty into thseafe, slammed the door, and locked it
with threeand a half turns, and we went back into the lab. Ernest pays 400 incash for anempty empty, and I couhldave bled himdry, theson of a
bitch, for a full one, beultieve it or not, I didn't even think about it, becauseKirill came back to life before my eyes and bounded down the steps four at a time, not even letmtinegfinish my smoke. In shorIt,told him
everything: whaitt was like, and where it was, tahned best way to get at
it. He pulled out a mfaopu,nd the garage, put his finger on it, and stared
at me. Of course, he immediately figured it out about me--what was there not to understand?
"You dog, you," he said and smiled. "Well, let's go for it. First thing in the morning. I'll ordthere passes and the boot for naind we'll set
off at ten and hope for the best. All right?" "All right," I said. "Who'll be the third?" "What do we need a third for?"
"Oh no," I said".This is nopicnic with ladies.What if something
happens to you? It's in the Zone," I said. "We have to follow regulations." He gave a short laugh and shrugged.
"As you wish. You know better."

You bet I didO! f course, he was justrtying tohumor me. The third
would be itnhe way as far as he was concerned. We would run down, just the two of us, and everything would be hunky-dory, no one would suspect anything about me. Excepftor the fact that I knetwhat peoplefrom the institute
didn't enter thZe one in two's. The rule is: two do the worktheantdhird watches, and when they ask him about it later, he tells.
"Personally, I would take Austin," Kirill said. "But you probably don't want him. Or is it all right?"
"Nope," I said. "Anybodbyut Austin. You can takeAustin an-other time."
Austin isn't a bad guy, he's gotthe right mix of courage and
cowardice, but I feel he's doomed. You can't explain it to Kirill, but I can see it. Thme an thinks he knows and understands Zthoene completely. That meanshe's going to kick off soon. He can go right abhuetadw,ithoutme,
thanks.
"All right,then," Kirillsaid. "Howabout Tender?" Tender washis second lab assistant. An all-right kind of guy, on the quiet side.
"He's a little old," I said. "And he has kids. "That's all right. He's been in the Zone before." "Fine," I said. "Let's take Tender.
He stayed to pore over the map anmdadIe a beelinefor the Borscht,
because I was starving and my throat was parched.
I got back to the lab in the morning as
aursouuanl,d nine, and showed
my pass. The guard on duty was the lanky bean pole of a sergeant that I beat the hell out of last year when he made a drunken pass at Guta.
"Fine thing," he saitdo me. "They're looking for yoaull over the

institute, Red." I interrupted him right there, polite-like.
"I'm not Redto you," I said. "Don't try that palsy-walsy stuff on me, you Swedish dolt."
"God, Red! Everybody calls you that.
I was all wound up before going into the Zone and cold sober to boot. I
hauled him up by hshisoulder belt and told him in precise detail just what he was and what maternal line he was descefnrodmed. He spat on the floor, returned my pass, and said without any of the niceties:
"Redrick Schuhart, your orderasre to appear immediately before Chief of Security Captain Herzog.
"That's better," I said. "That'sthe ticket. Keepplugging away, sergeant, you'll make lieutenant yet.
Meanwhile Iwas thinking, what was this curve coming wmay? What did CaptainHerzog need me for during working hours? All rigwhet,ntIoff to make my appearanceH. is office was on the third floaorn,ice office, with bars on the windowjusst likea police station. Willy wasistting at his
desk, puffingon his pipe, antdyping some kindof gibberish. Some little
sergeant was digging through the metal file cabinet in the corner. A new guy
I'dnever seen. We havme ore sergeantsat the institute thaant division headquarters. They'reall well-built healthy fellows. They don't have to go into the Zone and they don't give a damn about world issues.
"Hello," I said". You calledfor me?" Willy lookerdight through me, moved away from the typewriter, laaidhefty file on thdeesk, and started leafing through it.
"Redrick Schuhart?"

"The same, I answered, feelinagnervous laugh welling up. I couldn't help it, it was funny.
"How long have you been with the institute?" "Two years, starting my third."
"Family?"
"I'm alone," I said. "An orphan."
Then he turned to his little sergeant gaanvde him an order in a stern tone.
"Sergeant Lummer, go to the files and bring back case number one-fifty. The sergeant saluted and disappeared, aWndilly slammed the filsehut
and asked gloomily:
"Up to your old tricks again?" "What old tricks?"
"You know what tricks. There's new material on you here." So, I thought.
"Where from?"
He frowned and banged his pipe against the ashtray in irritation. "That doesn'tconcern you," hesaid. "Asan old friend, I'm warning
you. Knock it off, knock it off for good. If they get you a second time, you won't get off with six montAhsn.d they'll kick yoouut of theinstitute
once and for all, understand?"
"I understand," I said. "ThatI can understand. I just donu'nt der stand what bastard could have squealed.
But hewas looking throughme again, puffingon his empty pipe and
flipping through the file. That meant that Sergeant Lummer had returned with case #150.

"Thank you, Schuhart, said Capt. Willy Herzog, also known as the Hog. "That's all I wanted cleared up. You're Free to go.
So I went to the locker roopmul,led on my lab clothes and lit up. All
along I kept thinking where the rumor could have come from. It had to be all liesif itcame from within the institute, becausenobody there knew
anythingabout me andthere was no way that anyone could. If it had been a
report From the police--again, what could they know there except fooldr my
sins?Maybe they hadgotten Buzzard?That bastard, he'd drownhis own
grandmother to save his skin. But even Buzzard didn't know anything about me now.I thought and thoughatnd didn't come up with anything very pleasant.
So I decided thheell with it. Thleast time Ihad gone into the Zonaet night was three months ago, and I had gotten rid ooff mthoeststuffand
had spent almost all of the money. They hadn't caught me with the goods, and
I was too slippery for them to catch me now.
But then,just as I washeading up the stairsI,suddenly saw the light,and saw it so well that I had to gotobathcek locker room, sit
down, and havaenother cigarette. It meant that I couldn't go into the Zone today. Nor tomorrow, nor the daaftyer. It meant that those toads had their eye on me again, ththaet y hadn'tforgotten me, orif they had forgotten,
then somebody hardeminded them. And now it no longer mattered who had done the reminding. No stalker, unless he was completely off his rocker, would go near the Zoneven at gunpoint, not if he knew that he was being watched. I should have been burrowiningto the deepestd, arkest corner atthat very
moment.Zone? What Zone? I hadn't beenaniny Zone, evenwith a pass, for
months! What are you harassing an honest lab worker for?

I thought the whole thing through and even felt a sense of relief that
I wouldn't be going into the Zone that day. But what would be the nicest way of informing Kirill of the fact?
I told him straight out.
"I'm not going into the Zone. What instructions do you have?"
At first, of courseh,e juststared at me bug-eyed. Then he seemed to understand. He led me by ethlbeow into his little office, sat me doawt n
his desk, ansdat on the windowsill facing me. Wliteup. Silence. Then he asked me, careful-like:
"Has something happened, Red?" What could I tell him?
"No," I said. "Nothing happened. Yesterday I blew twenty bills at poker--that Noonan is a great player, the louse."
"Wait a minute," he said. "Have you changed your mind?" I made a choking noise from the tension.
"I can't,"I said to him through clenchetdeeth. "I can'td, o you understand? Herzog just had me up in his office."
He went limp. He got thpaatthetic look again and his eyes looked like they were a sick poodle's again. He shudderead, nleitw cigarette with the butt of the old one, and spoke softly.
"You can trust me, Red. I didn't breathe a word to anyone." "Skip it," I said. "Nobody's talking about you."
"I haven't even told Tender yet. I made out ainpahsissname, but I
haven't even asked him if he'll go."
I said nothing and went on smokinIgt. was funnyand sad. The man didn't understand a thing.

"What did Herzog say to you?"
"Nothing in particular," I said. "Someone squealed on me, that's all." He looked at me kind of strangheo, pped off thesill, and started
walkingup and down. He ran around his office and I sat blowing smoke rings in silenceI. was sorry forhim, of coursea, nd I felt bad that things
hadn't worked out betteSr.ome cure I came up with for his melanchAonlyd.
whose fault was it? Mowy n. I tempted a baby withcoaokie, but the cookie
was ina hiding place, and the hiding place was guarded by mean m. en. . .
Then he stoppepdacing, came up close
mtoe, andlooking off to thseide
somewhere, asked awkwardly:
"Listen, Red, how much would a full empty cost?"
At first I didn't understand him. I thought at first that he was hoping
to buy one somewhere. Where would you buy Monaey?be it was the only one in the world and besides he couldn't possibly have enough dough for that. Where would he get thmeoney from? He was a foreign scientist, anRdusasian one
atthat. Andthen the thoughst truck me. So thbeastard thinksthat I'm
doing it for the greenbacks? You so and so, I thought to myself, what do you take me for?oIpened my mouthto tellhim off. And sIhut up. Because,
actually,what else could he take me for? A stalker is a stalker. The more
green stuff the better. He trades his life for greenbacks. Anldooskoedit
to him that yesterday I hcast my line and today I wraeseling him in,
trying to raise my price.
The thoughtmade metongue-tied. And he kept staring maet
intently,
without blinkingA. nd in his eyes Isaw not contempt buta kind of
understanding, I guess. Then I calmly explained it to him.

"No one witha pass hasever gone to the garage before. They haven't
laid the tracks to it yet. You know that. So here we come back from the Zone and your Tender brags etvoerybody howwe headed straight for the garage,
picked up what we needed, and came right back. Like we just went down to the warehouse or something. And it will be perfectly clear to everyone," I said,
"thatwe knew aheadof timewhat we wanted there. And thatmeans that
someone set us oton
it. And which of us three cthoautld have been--well,
there's no poinint spelling it out for you. Dyou understandwhat's in store for me here?"
I finished mylittle speech.We satstaring intoeach other's eyes, sayingnothing. Suddenly heclapped his hands, rubbed hpisalms together, and announced in a hearty tone:
"Well, if you can't, you can't. I understand you, Red, and I can't pass judgment. I'll go alone. Maybe it'll go fine. It won't be the first time."
He spread out thme ap on the windowsill, leaned on his hands, and bent
over it. All his heartiness seemed to evaporate before my eyes. I could hear him muttering.
"Forty yards, maybe forty-one, another three in gtahreage itself. No,
I won't take Tender alonWg.hat do youthink, Red? Maybe sIhouldn't take
Tender? He does have two kids, after all." "They won't let you out alone," I said.
"They will," he muttered. "Iknow allthe sergeants andall the
lieutenants. I don't like those trucks! They've been exposed to the elements forthirty years and they're julsikt e new. There's agasoline carrier
twenty feet away and it's completely rusted out, but theylikleootkhey've
just come off the assembly line. That's the Zone for you!"

He looked up from the maanpd stared out the windowA.nd I stared out the window, tooT.he glass in ouwr indows is thick and leadeAd.nd beyond the windows--theZone. There itis, justreach out and you can touch it. From the thirteenth Boor it looks iltikceouldfit in the palmof your
hand.
When youlook at it, it looks like any opthiecre of land. The sun
shines on it like on any other part of the earth. And it's as though nothing had particularly changeidn it. Like everythinwg as the way iwt as thirty
years agoM.
y father,rest his soul, couldlook atit and not notice
anythingout of place at all. Except maybhee'd ask why the plant's smokestackwas still.Was there a strike or something? yellow ore piled up
in cone-shaped mounds, blast furnaces gleaming in the sun, rails, rails, and
more railsa,
locomotive with flatcars on the railsI.n other words, an
industry town. Only there were no people. Neither living nor dead. You could see thegarage, too: a long gray intestine, its doors wide open. The trucks
were parked on the paved nleoxt t to it. He was right about the trucks--his brainswere functioning God forbid you should stick your hbetwd een two
trucks. You have to sidle around them. There's a crack in the asphalt, if it hasn't beenovergrown with bramble yet. Forty yards. Where wacsouhneting from? Ohp, robably from thelast pylon. He's right, it wouldn't be further
than that from there. Those egghead scientists were making progress. They've gotthe road hungall theway to thedump, andcleverly hungat that!
There's thatditch where Slimy ended upju, st two yards from their road.
Knuckles had told Slimy: stay as far away from the ditches as you can, jerk, or there won't be anything to bury. When I looked down into the water, there

was nothing. This is twheay it iswith theZone: ifyou come back with
swag--it's a miracle; if you come back alive--it's a success;paiftrothl e
bullets miss you--it's a stroke of luck. aAsnfdoranything else --that's fate.
I looked at Kirill and saw thheatwas secretly watching meA. nd the
look on his face made me change my mindh. eTllhwe ith them all, I thought. After all, whactan thosetoads do to me? Hreally didn't have tosay
anything, but he did.
"Laboratory Assistant Schuhart," he says. "Official-and I stress
official--sources have led mtoe believe that an inspection of the garage could beof great scientific value. I asmuggesting that weinspect the garage. I guarantee a bonus." And he beamed like the June sun.
"What official sources?" I asked, and smiled like a fool myself.
"They are confidential. But I can tell you." He frowned. "LetI's say,
found out from Dr. Douglas."
"Oh," I said. "From Dr. Douglas. What Dr. Douglas?" "Sam Douglas," he said dryly. "He died last year."
My skin crawled. You so-and-so fool. Who talks about such things before setting out? Yocuan beatthese eggheads over thheead with a two-by-four
and they still don't catch on. I stabbed the ashtray with my cigarette butt. "All right. Where's your Tender? How long do we have to wait for him?" In other words, we didn't touch on the subject again. Kirill phoned PPS
and ordered a flying boot. I looked over his map to seweaswohnat it. It wasn't bad. It was a photograpphrioccess--aerial and highlyenlarged. You couldeven see the ridges on the cover that was lyintghebygates to the
garage. Ifstalkers could get their hands on a mlikaepthat ... butit

wouldn't beof great use at night when the stars look doonwynour ass and it's so dark you can't even see your own hands.
Tender made his entranceH. e was red and out borfeath. Hisdaughter
was sick and he had gone for the doctor. Apologized for being late. Well, we gave him hilsittle present: we're offinto the Zone. Heeven stopped
puffing andwheezing at firsth, e was so scared. "What do you mean the
Zone?" he asked. "And wmhye?" However, talk of a double bonus and the fact that Red Schuhart was going too got him breathing again.
So we wentdown to the "boudoira"nd Kirill wentfor the passes. We
showed them to another sergeant, who handed us special outfits. Now they are handy things. Just dye them any other color than their original red, and any stalker would gladly pay 500 for one without blinking an eye. I swore a long timeago that one otfhese days I would figure ouwt aay to swipe one. At
firstglance it didn'st eem like anything special, just an oultikfiet a diving suiwt ith a bubble-top helmet with avisor. Notreally like a diver's--morelike a jet pilot's or an astronaut's. It was light,
comfortable, without bindinagny where, andyou didn'tsweat in it. In a littlesuit like that you could go through fire, and gas couldn't penetrate it.They sayeven abullet can't get through. Of course, fire and mustard gases and bullets are all earthulyman things. Nothing like that exists in the Zoneand thereis no need to fear things like that in the Zone. And anyway, to tell the truth, people drop likeinflitehse special suits too.
It's another matter that maybe many mmanoyre woulddie without the suits.
The suits are too percent protection against the burning fluff, for example, and against the spitting devil's cabbage.... All right.

We pulled onthe special suitsI.
poured the nuts and boflrtosm the
bag into my hip pocket, and we trekked across the institute yard to the Zone entrance.That's the routine they havheere, so that everyone will see the
heroesof science layingdown their lives on thealtar of humanity,
knowledge,and the holy ghost. Amen. And sure enough--all the way up to the fifteenth floor sympathetic faces watched us off. All we lwacekre waving
hankies and an orchestra.
"Hup two," Isaid to Tender. "Suck in your gyuotu,
flabby platoon! A
grateful mankind will never forget you!"
He looked at me and I saw that he was in no shape for joking around And he was right, this was no time for jokes. But when you're going out into the Zone you can either corryjoke--and Inever cried, evenas a child. I
lookedat Kirill. He was holdinugp under the strainb, ut was moving his lips, like he was praying.
"Praying?" I asked. "Prayon, pray. Thefurther into the Zone the nearer to Heaven."
"What?"
"Pray!" I shouted. "Stalkers go to the head of the line into Heaven." He broke out in a smile apnadtted me on the back, as if todsoany't
be afraidn, othing will happen as long as you're with amned, if it does, well, we only die once. He sure is a funny guy, honest to God.
We turned in our passes to ltahset sergeant, onlythis time, fora change ofpace, itwas a lieutenant. I know him, hfiasther sells grave borders in RexopolisT.he flying boot waswaiting for us, brought by the
fellows from PPS and left at the passageway. Everyone else was waiting, too.
Theemergency first-aid team, anfdiremen, andour valiant guards, our

fearless rescuers--a bunch of overfed buwmisth a helicopter. I wishhaId never set eyes on them!
We got up into the boot, and Kirill took the controls and said:
"OK, Red, lead on."
Coolly, I lowered the zipper
mony chest, pulled outa flask, took a
good long tug, and replaced the flask. I can't do it without that. I've been inthe Zone manytimes, but without it--noI, just can'tT. hey were both
looking at me and waiting.
"So," I said. "I'mnot offeringany to you, because this is the first
time we're going in togethaenr,d Idon't know how the stuff affects you.
This is the way wed'oll things. Anything that I say you do immediately and withoutquestion. If someonestarts fumbling or asking questions hI'iltl
whateverI reach first. I'll apologizneow. For example, MrT. ender, if I
order you to start walking on your hands you will immediately hoist your fat ass into thaeir and dowhat I telyl ou. And if yoduon't, maybeyou'll
never see your sicdkaughter again. Got it? But I'll make sure that you do get to see her."
"Just don't forget to givme e theorder," Tender wheezed. He was all
red and sweating ancdhomping his lips, "I'll walk on my teeth, not just on my hands, if I have to. I'm not a greenhorn."
"You're both greenhorns as far as I'm concerned," I said. "And I won't
Forget to give the orders, don't worry. By the way, do you know how to drive a boot?"
"He knows," Kirill said. "He's a good driver.
"All right then," I said. "Then we're off, Godspeed. Lower your visors.

Lowspeed ahead alongthe pylons,altitude three yards. Halt at the twenty-seventh pylon."
Kirill raised theboot tothree yards and went ahead loinw gear. I
turned aroundwithout being noticedand spit over my left shoulder. I saw that therescue squad had climbed inthoeir helicopter, the firemewn ere standing aat ttention out of respecth, e lieutenant atthe doorof the
passage was saluting us, the jerk, and above all of them fluttered the huge, faded banner: "Welcome, Visitors." Tender looked hliekewasabout to wave tothem, but I gave him suchjaba in the ribs that he immediately dropped
all ideasof such ceremonious bye-byes. I'll shoywou how to say good-bye. You'll be saying good-bye yWet!e were off. The institute was on our right
and the PlaguQe uarter onour left. We were traveling from pylonpytloon
right downthe middle of the street. It had been ages
tshinecleast time
someone had walked or drivdeonwn this street. The asphalt was all cracked, and grasshad grown in the crackBs.ut that wasstill our human grass. On
the sidewalk on our left there was black bramble growing, and you could tell
the boundaries of the Zone: the black growth ended at the curbhaads if it
been mown. Yeah, those visitors were well-behaved. They meuspseadlot of things but at least they set themselves clear limits. Even the burning fluff nevercame to our side of the Zone--and you would tthhiantka stiff wind would do it.
The houses in thPelague Quarter were chipped and dead. How etvheer,
windows weren't brokenO. nly theywere so dirty that they looked blind. At night,when you crawlpast, you cansee the glowinside, like alcohol
burningwith blue tonguesT. hat's the witches' jelly breathing inthe
cellars.just a quick glance gives you the impression that it's a

neighborhood like any other, the houses are like any others, only in need of repair, but there's nothinpgarticularly strangeabout them. Exceptthat
thereare no people around. That brihcokuse, by the way, was thoeme of our math teacher. Wuesed tocall him The Comma. Hewas abore and a
failure. His seconwd ife hadleft him just before the Visitation, ahnisd
daughter had caataract on one eye, anwde usedto tease herto tears, I
remember. When the panic began he and all his neighbors ran to the bridge in their underwear, three miles nonstop. Then he was sick with the plague for a long time. He lost all his skin and his nails. Almost everyone who had lived
in theneighborhood was hit, that's why we call it the Plague Quarter. Some died,mostly the old people, anndot too many otfhem. I,for one, think
thatthey died from fright and not from thpelague. It was terrifying. Everyonewho livedhere got sick. Andpeople in three neighborhoods went blind.Now we call those areas: First Blind QuarStec,ond Blind, and so
on. They didn't go completely blind, but got sort of night blindness. By the way,they saidthat it wasn't any explosion that causiet,d eventhough
there were plentoyf explosions; they said thewyere blinded froma loud
noise. They said it got so loud that they immediately lost their vision. The doctors told them that that was impossible and they shouldretmryemtober. Butthey insisted that it was a powerful thunderbolt that blinded them. By the way, no one else heard the thunder at all.
Yes, it was as thougnhothing had happened here. Therwe as aglass
kiosk, unharmed. Ababy carriage ina driveway -- even the blanketsitin
looked clean. The antennas screwed up the effect though--they were overgrown
with some hairy stuff that looked like cotton. The eggheads had been cutting

theirteeth on this cotton problemfor sometime. You see, they were
interested in looking it over. There wasn't any other like it anywhere. Only in the Plague Quartaenr d only on thaentennas. And most important, it was right there, under their very windows. Fintahlel y had a bright idea: they lowered an anchor on a steel cable frohmelicaopter andhooked a piece of
cotton. As soon as the helicopter pulled at it, there was a pssst! We looked and saw smoke coming from the antenna, ftrhoemanchor, and from the cable. The cablewasn't just smoking--it was hissinpgoisonously, like a rattler.
Well, the pilot was no fool--there was a rewashoyn he was a lieutenant--he
quicklyfigured what was whatand dropped the cableand made a quick
getaway. Thereit was, the cable, hanging down almostot
the ground and
overgrown with cot ton.
So we made it to the end othfe street and thteurn nice and easy. Kirill looked at me: should he turn? I signalesdlo:wasas possible! Our boot turned and inched over ltahset feet of human earth. The sidewwalaks coming closer and the boosth'sadow was falling otnhe bramble. That's it. We were in thZeone! I felt a chill. Eatcimh e Ifeel thatchill. AndI
never know if that's tZheone greeting me or my stalker's nerves acting up. Eachtime I think that when I bgaectk I'llask if othershave thesame
feeling or not, and each time I forget.
All right, so there we wercerawling quietly over what used to be
gardens. Theengine washumming evenly under our feet, calmly-- it didn't care,nothing was going to hurt it here. Then old Tender brokeh.adWne't even gotten ttohe first pylon when he startgeadbbing. All the greenhorns usually runoff at the mouthin the Zone: his teewthere chattering, his
heart thumpingh, is memory fading, andhe wasembarrassed and yet he

couldn'tcontrol himself. I thinikt's likea runnynose with them. It doesn't dependon the person atall--it just flowsand flows. And what
nonsense they babble! They flip out over the landscape or they express their views on the Visitors, or thtaelyk about things havinngo relation to the
Zone--like Tender, who got all wound up over his new suit and couldn't stop.
How much he had paid forhoiwt,
fine the wool was, hothwe tailor changed
the buttons for him.... "Shut up."
He looked at me pitifully, flopped his lips, and went on: how much silk ittook for the lining. The gardens had enbdyednow, the clayelyot that
used tobe the town dump was under us. AI nfedlt a lighbt reeze. Except there was no wind at all, and suddenly wthaesrea gust antdhe tumbleweed scattered, and I thought I heard something.
"Shut up, you bastard!" I said to Tender.
No, he couldn'tshut himself up. He was on the pockets nIohwa.d no choice.
"Stop the boot!" I said to Kirill.
He braked immediately. Good reflexes, I was proud of him. I took Tender bythe shoulder, turned him toward me, asnmdacked him in thevisor. He
cracked his nose, poor guy, against the glass, closed his eyes, and shut up. And as soon as he was quiet, I heard it. Trrr, trrr, trrr... · Kirill looked over at me, jaws clenchetede, th bared. motioned for him to be still. God, please bestill, don't move ma uscle. But he also hearthde crackle,and
like all greenhorns, he htahde urge to do something immediately, anything.
"Reverse?" he whispered. I shook my head desperately and waved my fist right

under his visor -cut it out. Honest to God, with these greeynohuornesver know which watyo look, at the fieoldr at them. Antdhen Iforgot about
everything. Over the pile of old refuse, over broken glass and rags, crawled a shimmering, a trembling, sortliokfe hot air at noon over a tin roof. It
crossed over the hillocaknd movedon and on toward us, right nteoxtthe pylon;it hovered fora second over theroad-- or did Ijust imagine
it?--and slithered into the field, behind htuhsehes and the rotten fences, back there toward the automobile graveyard.
Damn those eggheads! Some thinking to lay the road over the dump! And I had been really sharp myself--what was I thinking of when I raved over their stupid map?
"Low speed forward," I said to Kirill. "What was that?"
"The devil knows. It was, and now it's gTohnaen. k God. And shutup,
please, you'renot a human being now, do you understand? You are a machine, my steering wheel." I suddenly realized that I was running off at the mouth.
"Enough. Not another word."
I wanted another drink. Letme tell yout,hese divingsuits were
nonsense. I livetdhrough so much without a damn suit and will live through
so much more, but without a big glug at a moment like this --well, enough of that!
The breeze seemed to have died down and I didn't hear anything bad. The only sound was the calm, sleepy humtheofmotor.It was very sunny and it
was hotT. here was a haze ovtehre garage. Every- thing seemeadll right, the pylons sailed past, one after otthheer, Tender was quietK, irill was
quiet. The greenhornws ere getting a little polish. Down'ot rry, fellows,

you can breathe in the Zone, toyoo, uif know what you're about. We
tgoot
Pylon 27; the metal sign haadred circle with the number in27it. Kirill looked at me, I nodded, and our boot stopped moving.
The blossomshad fallen off and it was ttihmee for berries. Nowthe
most important thing for us was total calm. There wruashn. oThe wind was gone, the visibility good. It wasassmooth as silk. I couslede the ditch
where Slimyhad kicked off. Therewas somethingcolored in it--maybe his clothes. He was loausy guy, God rest his soul. Greedy, stuapnid dirty. Justthe typeto getmixed upwith BuzzardBurbridge. Buzzard sees them coming a milaeway andgets his claws intothem. In general,the Zone
doesn't ask who the good guayres andwho thebad ones areS. o thanks to
you, Slimy. You were a damned fool, and no one remembers your real name, but at least you showethde smart people where not sttoep.... Ofcourse, our
bestbet would have been to get onto the asphalt. The asphalt is smooth and you can see what's on it, and I know that crack well. I just didn't like the looksof thosetwo hillocks!A straight line tothe asphalt ledright
betweenthem. Therethey were, smirking and waiting. Nope, I wong'to between them. A stalker commandment states that there shboeuladtleast a
hundred feet of clear space either on your left or your right. So, we can go
over the left hillock. Of course, I dkidnno'wt
what was on the other side.
There didn't seem to be anything on the map, but who trusts maps? "Listen, Red,"whispered Kirill, "why don't we jump over? Twenty yards
up and then straight down, and we're right by the garage. Huh?" "Shut up, you jerk," I said. "Don't bother me."
He wants to goup. And whatif somethinggets you at twenty yards?

They'llnever find all your bones. Or maybe the mosquito mange would appear somewhere around here, then there wouldenv'etn bea little damp spot left
of you. I've had it touphere with these risk-takers. He can't wait: let's jump, hesays. It was cleahrow to get to the hillock. Athnedn we'd stay therefor a bit and think about the next mIopvuel.led out a handful of
nuts and bolts from mpoycket. I held them in mpyalm andshowed them to
Kirill.
"Do you remember the story of Hanasnedl
Gretel? Studied it in school?
Well, we're going to do it in reverse. Watcthr!e"wI the firsnt ut. Not
far, just like I wanted, about ten yards. The nut got there safely. "Did you see that?"
"So?" he said.
"Not 'so.' I asked if you saw it?" "I saw it."
"Now drivethe boot at the lowest speed otvoerthe nut and stotwp o feet away from it. Got it?"
"Got it. Are you looking for graviconcentrates?"
"I'm looking for what I should be looking for. Wait, I'll throw another one. Watch where it goes and don't take your eyes off it again."
The second nut also went fine and landed next to the first one. "Let's go."
He startedthe boot. Hisface was calm and clear. Obviously he understood. They'reall likethat, the eggheads, the most importathnitng
for them is to find a name for things. Until choemheadup with a name, he wastoo pathetic to look at--a reidailot. But now thahte had some label
like graviconcentrate, he thought that he understood everything and life was

a breeze.
We passedthe firstnut, and thesecond, and athird. Tenderwas
sighing and shifting from foot to foot and yawning nervously--he was feeling trapped, poor fellow. It would do him good. He'd knock off ten pounds today, this was bettetrhan any diet.I threw a fourth nut. Thewreas something
wrong withits trajectory.I couldn't explain what was wrong, but I sensed that it wasn't right. I grabbed Kirill's hand.
"Hold it," I said. "Don't move an inch."
I picked up another one and thrietwhigher and further. There it was, themosquito mange! The nut flew up normally asnedemed to bedropping
normally, but halfway down it was as if something pulled it to the side, and pulled it so hard that when it landed it disappeared into the clay.
"Did you see that?" I whispered.
"Only in the movies.H" e wasstraining to seeand I wasafraid he'd fall out of the boot. "Throw another one, huh?"
It was funny and sad. One! As though one would be enOohu,ghs!cience. So I threw eight more nuts and bolts until I knsehwapteheofthis mange
spot. To be honest, I could have gotten by with seventh, rbewut oI ne just
for him smack inthoe middle, sothat he could enjoy his concentraItte.
crashed intothe claylike it was a ten-pound weight instead of a bolt. It crashed and left a hole in the clay. He grunted with pleasure.
"OK," I said, "we hadour fun, now let's go. Watchclosely. I'm throwing out a pathfinder, don't take your eyes off it."
So we got around the mosquito mange spot and got up on the hillock. It
was so smaltlhat it lookedlike acat turd. I had never even noticited

before. We hovered over the hillock. The asphaltlewssasthan twentyfeet
away. It was clear. I could see every blade of grass, every crack. It looked like a snap. Just throw the nut and be on with it.
I couldn't throw the nut.
I didn't understand what was happening to me, but cIoujuldstn't make up my mind to throw that nut.
"What's the matter?" asked Kirill. "Why are we just standing here?" "Wait," I said. "Just shut up."
I thought I'dtoss the nut antdhen we'll quietly movaelong, like coasting onmelted butter, without disturbing a bladeof grass.Thirty
secondsand we'reon the asphalt. And suddenly I broke out in a sweat! My eyeswere blindedby it. And I knew thatwIouldn't bethrowing the nut
there.To the left, ams any as you want. The road was longer that way, and
there was a bunch poefbbles that didn't seem too cozy, buwtasI
ready to
throwin that direction. Bunt ot straight ahead. Not for anything. So I
threw the nut to the left. Ksiaridl
nothing, turnedthe boot, and drove
upto thenut. Then he looked ovaetr me. Imust have looked pretty bad because he looked away immediately.
"It's allright," I said. "The path aroundfaisster." Itossed the last nut onto the asphalt.
It wasa lot simpler after that. I found the crack, and it was still
clean, not overgrown with any garbage, and unchanged in color. I just looked at it and rejoiced in silenIcte.led us to the garage door better than any
pylons or signposts.
I ordered Kirillto descend to four feet. I laByat on my belly and
lookedinto the open doors. At first I couldn't see anything because of the

bright sunlight. Just blackness. Then my eyes grew accustomed and I saw that nothing seemed to have changed in gtahreage since the last time. Tdhuemp
truck was stipllarked over the pit, in perfect shape, without any holes or spots.And everything was stillthe sameon the cement Boor--probably becausethere wasn't too much witches' jelly itnhe pit andit hadn't
splashedout since that time. There was only one thing dthidant 'tI like. In the very back of the garage, neacranthiseters, I could seesomething silvery.That hadn't beenthere before. Well, all right, stohere was something silvery, we couldn't go back njuoswt because of thatI! mean it didn't shinein any special way, justlitatle bitand in acalm, even a
gentle way. I just got up, brushed myself off, and looked around. There were the trucks on the lot, just like new. Even newer than they had been the last time I was here. And the gasoline truck, the poor bastard was rusted through andready to fall aparTt.here was the cover othne ground, just likoen
that map of theirs.
I didn't like the looks of that cover. Its shadow wasn't right. The sun wasat our backs, yet its shadow was stretching toward us. Well, all right,
it was far enough away from us. It seemed OK, we could get on with our work. Butwhat was the silvery thingshining back there? Was it just my
imagination? It would be nicehatove a smoke nowand sit for a spealnl d
mull it all over--why there was that shine over the canisters, why it didn't
shine next to them, why the cover was casting that shadow. Buzzard Burbridge told me something about tshheadows, that theywere weird but harmless.
Something happens here with the shadows. But what was that silvery shine? It
looked just like cobwebs on the trees in a forest. What kind of spider could

have spun it? I had never seen any bugs in the Zone. The worst part was that my empty was right there, two steps from the canisters. I should have stolen
it that time. Thewne wouldn't be having any tohfese problems now. But it
was too heavy. After all, bthitech was full, I could pick it up all right,
butas for draggingit on my back,
tihne dark, on all fours... . If you
haven't carried an empty arountrdy,
it: it's like hauling twenty pounds of
water without a pail. It was time to go. I wished I had a drink. I turned to
Tender.
"Kirill and I are going into the garage now. You stay here. Don't touch the controls without moyrders, no matter what, even if the eacrathtches
fire under you. If you chicken out, I'll find you in the hereafter."
He nodded at me seriously, as if to say, I won't chicken out. His nose looked likea plum, I hardeally givenhim a solidpunch. Ilowered the emergencypulley ropes carefully,checked out the silvery glow onmeore
time, waved Kirill on, and started down. On the asphalt, I waited for him to come down the other rope.
"Don't rush," I said. "No hurry. Less dust."
We stood on the asphalth, e boot swaying next to uasn,d theropes wriggling under our feeTt.ender stuck his head over the rail and looked at us. His eyes were full of despair. It was time to go.
"Follow mestep for step, two steps behimnde, keep youreyes on my back, and stay alert."
I went on. sItopped in the doorway to look around. Ith'selal of a lot easier working in the daylitghhatn at night! rIemember lying in that
same doorway. It was pitch black and the witches' jelly was shooting tongues
of flameup from the pit, pale blue, like burnainlcgohol. It didn't make

things any lighter. In fact, the bastards made it seem even darker. And now, it was a snap! Meyyes had gotten used to the murky light, and I could even see the dust in the darkest corners. And there really was somesitlhvienrgy
overthere--there were silverythreads stretching to the ceiling from the canisters. Theysure looked like a spider's weMb.aybe that's allit was,
too, but I was going to keep away from it. That's where I made my mistake. I
shouldhave stood Kirill rightnext tome, waitedfor his eyes to grow accustomed to the light, too, and tphoeinnted out the web to him. Point it
out to him. But I was used to woarkloinnge. I saw what I had to see, and I
forgot all about Kirill.
I stepped insideand went straight for the canisteIrs.crouched over
the empty. There didn't seem to be any web on the empty. I picked up one end and said to Kirill:
"Here, grab one, and don't drop it--it's heavy."
I looked upand felt a catch in my throat. I couldn't utter a sound. I
wanted to shout "Stop! Freeze!" but I couldn't. And I probably wouldn't have had timea, nyway, it all happenesdo fast. Kirill stepped over the empty,
turned his back
thoe canisters, and gothis whole back inttohe silver
web. I shumt y eyes. I went numb and othnely thing Iheard wasthe web tearing.It wasa weakcrackly noise. I wacsrouched therewith my eyes shut, unable to feel my arms or my legs, when Kirill spoke.
"Well, shall we get on with it?" "Let's go."
We picked up thempty and headed for the door, walking side- ways. It
was terrifically heavy, the bitch, it was hard for the two of us to drag it.

We came out into the sun and stopped by the boot. Tender reached out for it. "OK," said Kirill. "One, two...."
"No," I said. "Let's wait a sec. Put it down first." We set it down.
"Turn around. Let's see your back."
He turned withouta single wordI. looked--there was nothing on his back. I turned him this way and thatt,hebruet was nothing. lIooked back at the canisters, and there was nothing there either.
"Listen," I said to Kirill, still looking atcatnhiesters. "Did you see the spider web?"
"What web? Where?"
"All right. We were lucky."
But to myself I thought: actually, there's no way of knowing that yet. "All right, let's heave-ho."
We stuffed the emptiynto the boot and fixedsoit that itwouldn't
move around. There it was, pthuessycat, shiny newand clean, thecopper gleamingin the sun.Its blue fillingsifted cloudily in slowstreams betweenthe disks. We could see that itwasn't anempty at all, but
something like vaessel, like a glass jar with blue syrup. We lookiet d at
some moreand then clambered into the boot and setonofthf e return trip without messing around.
These scientistssure have it easy! First of all, they work in
daylight. And second, the onhlayrd part isgetting into the Zone, On the way back, thbeoot drives itselfI.n other wordsi,t hasa mechanism,a coursograph, Iguess you'd call it, thcaot ntrols theboot anddrives it
exactly along thceourse it took coming in. As we floated back, it repeated

all ourmaneuvers, stopping and hovering for a bit, and then continuing. We went over each omfy nuts and bolts. I could have gathered them up if I had wanted to.
My greenhorns were in gareat mood, of course. They were turning their headsevery which way andtheir fear wasalmost all goneT. hey started gabbing.Tender was waving his arms around and threatentiongcome right
back after dinner to lay the road to the garage. Kirill plucked at my sleeve and started explaining his graviconcentrate phenomenon to me-i-st,htahte
mosquito mange spot. Well, I set them straight, but not right away. I calmly told them about all the jerks wblheow it on the way bacSkh.ut up, I told
them, andkeep your eyes peeled, or the same thing will happen ttohayt ou
happenedto Shorty LyndonT. hat worked. They didn'teven askwhat had happened to Shorty LyndoWn. e floated alongin silence and I ontlhyought aboutone thing. How wI ould unscrewthe cap. I was trying to picture my first gulp, but the web kept glistening before my eyes.
In short, we gotout of the Zone, and we were sent into the
delouser--thescientists call it the medical hangar--alowngith theboot. Theywashed us in threedifferent boiling vats andin their alkaline
solutions, smeared uws ith some gunk, sprinkled uws ith somepowder, and washed us againth, en dried us ofafnd said,OK, friends, you're free!
Tender and Kirill dragged the empty. There were so many pwehooplehad come
to gawk that you couldn't push your way through them. And it was so typical. They were all just watching and grunwtinogrds of welcome, but not owneas
brave enough to lend a hand to the tired returnees. All right, that was none
of my business. Now nothing concerned me any more.

I pulled off my speciasl uit, threw it on the floor--let the bastard
sergeants pick iutp--and headed straight fotrhe showers,because Iwas
sopping wet from heatod
toe. Ilocked myself ina stall, gotmy flask,
unscrewed thecap, and attached myself tolikite a lamprey. I sat on the
bench, my knees empty, my head empty, my soul empty. Gulping down the strong stuff like it was watAerl.ive. The Zone had let me out. It let me out, the
bitch. The damn, treacheroubsitch. I was alive. The greenhorns could never appreciate that. Only satalker could. Tears were streaming down my cheeks,
from the booze or what, I don't know. I sucked the flask dry. I was wet, and theflask was dry. It didn't have that one lagsutlp that Ineeded, of
course. But that could be fixed. Everything could be fixed now. Alive. I lit acigarette. I sathere and felt thatwIas coming round. The bonus pay
came into my mind. That was a good deal we thedinasttitute. I could go
right now and pick
tuhpe envelope. Or maybe theyb'dring it to me here in
the showers.
I started undressing slowly.toIok off my watch, ansdaw that we had
spent five hourisn the ZoneM.
y God! Fivehours. I shuddered. God, there
really is no time in the Zone. Five hours. But if you think about it, what's
five hours to a stalker? A snap. How about twelve? Or how about two days? If you don'tmanage in one nighyt,ou spend thewhole day face dowonn the
ground.And you don't even pray, but mutter deliriously, and you don't know if you're dead or alive. And then you finitshhe uspecond night and get to thepatrol point with your swag. The guaradrse therewith their machine
guns. And those bastards, those toads really hate Tyhoeur.e's no great joy in arresting you, they'trerrified that you're contaminated. All they want
to do is bump yofuf and they've got all the aces-go prove that wyeorue

killedillegally. Sothat means you bury your face in the dirt aagnadin
pray until dawn and until dark again. And the swag lietos nyeoxut and you
don't know whether it's just lying there or slowly killing you. Or you could end up like Knuckles Itzak, who got stucdkawant in an open space. He got offthe track and endedup betweentwo ditches. He couldn't go right or
left. They shot at him for two hours, but couldn't hit him. For two hours he made believe he was deaTdh.ank God, they finallbyelieved it and left. I
saw him after that. I couldn't even recoghniimze. He wasa broken man, no longer human.
I wiped my tearasnd turned on the water. I showefroerd a long lime.
First hot, then cold, then hot agIaiun.sed up a whole bar of soap. Then I
got bored. tIurned off the shower. Someone was banging on the door. Kirill was shouting:
"Hey, you stalker! Come on out of there! There's a scent gorfeetnhe
around here.
Greenbacks, that's always good. Iopened thedoor. He wasstanding there, half naked, in his shorts. He ewcsatsatic, hismelancholy gone. He handed me the envelope.
"Here," he said. "From a grateful humanity.
"I spit on your humanity. How much is there?"
"In view of your braverbyeyond the call of duty, and as an exception, two months' pay!"
Yes, I could live on that kind of money. If I could get two months' pay for every empty, I could have sent Ernest packing a long time ago.
"Well, areyou pleased?" He was glowing, positiverlaydiant, grinning

from ear to ear.
"Not bad. Andyou?" He didn't answer. He hugged my neck, pressed me to his sweaty chest, pushed me away, and disappeared into the next stall.
"Hey!" I shouted after him"H. ow's Tender? Washing out his underpants,
I bet?"
"No way. Tender is surrounded
rbeyporters. You should seheim. He's
such a big shot. He's telling them authoritatively... ." "How is he telling them?"
"Authoritatively."
"OK, sir. Next time I'll brimngy dictionary along, sir." Then it was like an electric shock. "Wait, Kirill. Come out here."
"I'm naked."
"Come out. I'm not a dame."
He came out. I took him by the shoulders and turned his back toward me. Nope. Imust have imagined iHt. is backwas clean. The rivuletosf sweat
dried up.
"What's with you and my back?" he asked.
I kicked him ihnis barecan and doveinto mystall and lockedthe
door. Damn mnyerves. I was seeing things thearen,d now I was seeing them here. Thehell with iat ll! I'd get tanked up tonight. reI'adlly like to
beatRichard, that's what I'd like. That bum can reallycpalradys. Can't beathim with any hand.trIied reshuffling,even blessing them under the table.
"Kirill," I shouted. "Are you going to the Borscht tonight?"
"It's not the 'Borscht,' it's pronounced 'Borshch.' How many times do I
have to tell you."

"Skip it. It'sspelled B-O-R-S-C-H-T Don'tbug us with your customs. Are you going or not? I'd love to beat Richard."
"Oh, I don't know, Red. You simple syoouul, don't understand what it is we've brought back."
"And I suppose you do?"
"Well, I don't either. That's true. But now for thetimFierstwe know whatthe emptiesare for, and ifmy bright idea works, I'llwrite a
monograph. I'll dedicate it to ypoeursonally: To Redrick Schuhart, honored stalker, with respect and gratitude."
"And they'll put me away for two years."
"But you'll go down in science. That's what they'll call it,
'Schuhart's jar.' Like the sound of it?"
While wewere bulling, Idressed. put the empty Bask
miny pocket,
counted my money, and left.
"Good luck, you complicated soul."
He didn't answer. The water was making a lot of noise.
There was Tenderin person inthe corridor. Red and puffed up like a
turkey. Surrounded by coworkers, reporters, and 3 couple of sergeants (fresh fromeating andpicking their teeth), hewas babbling on andon. "The
technology that we command," bhleathered, "al- mostcompletely guarantees success andsafety." Then hesaw me and dried up a bit. He smiled and made littlewaving motions withhis hand. Well, I'd better spIlit,thought. I
made for the door, but they caught me. I heard footsteps behind me. "Mr. Schuhart! Mr. Schuhart! A few words about the garage!"
"No comment." I broke into a run. But there was no getting away.

There was onewith a mike on my right, and another with a camera on my left.
"Did you see anything strange in the garage. Just two words!"
"No comment!" I said, trying to keep the back of my head to the camera. "It's just a garage."
"Thank you. How do you feel about turboplatforms?" "Most wonderful." I started edging toward the john. "What do you think about the Visitation?"
"Ask the scientists," I said, and slid behind the bathroom door. I could hear them scratching at the doorI. Scaolled out: "I heartily
recommend that you ask MTre.nder how his nose camtoe look like a beet. He's too modest to briintgup, but that was our most interesting adventure there."
They shot down the corridor. Faster than racehorses. I waited a minute. Silence. Stuckout my head. Nobody. And I went on my way, whistling a tune. I went down to the lobby, showmeyd pass to the bean-pole sergeant, and saw that he was saluting me. I guess I was the hero of the day.
"At ease, sergeant," said. "I'm pleased."
He showedso many teeth, you'tdhink I wasflattering him beyond all reason.
"Well, Red, you sure are a hero. I'm proud to know you," he said.
"So now you'll have something to tell the girls about back in Sweden?" "You bet! They'll just melt in my arms!"
I guess he's righTt.o tell the truth, I don't like guys whothaatre
tall and rosy-cheeked. Women go nuts over them, and I don't know why. Height
is not the important thing. I was walking down the street and thinking along

these lines. The sun was shining and there was no one around. And suddenly I
wanted to sec Guta right then and there. just like that. Taot hloeor kand holdher hand a while. After the Zone that's aablol uytoucan manage--to
hold hands. Especially wheynou think of those stories about what stalkers' children turnout like.... Who needGs uta now? What I really needed was a bottle, at least a bottle, of the hard stuff.
I went past the parking lToth.ere was a checkpoint therTe.here were
twopatrol cars in all their glory--low-slung andyellow, armedwith
searchlights andmachine guns, the toads. And of course, the
hcoadpsblue
helmets, tooT. hey were blockingthe whole street. There was no way to get through. I kept walking with my eyes lowered, because it would be better for me noto seethem rightnow. Notin daylight. There's two or three
characters there that I'mafraid to recognize, because Iifdo, that'll be
the endof them. It was a good thing for them that
lKurireidll me into
working for thienstitute. Otherwise, by God, I would have found the snakes and finished them off.
I shouldered my way through the crowd,wIas almost past it wheIn
heard someone shout "Hey, stalker!" Well, that had nothing to do with me, so
I went on, rummaging for a cigarette in my pocket. Someone caught up with me and took me bthye sleeve. I shook off the haanndd half turned toward the
man and said politely:
"What the hell do you think you're doing, mister?" "Hold it, stalker," he said. "Just two questions.
I looked upat him. It was Captain Quarterblad. An forilednd. He was
all dried up and kind of yellow.

"Ah, greetings, captain. How's the liver?"
"Don't try to talk your way out of this, stalker." He was angry and his eyesbored intome. "You'd bebetter offtelling mewhy you don't stop immediately when you're called."
And rightbehind him were twoblue helmets, handson holsters. You
couldn't see their eyes, just their jaws working under the helmets. Where in Canadado they find thesgeuys? Have theybeen sent out here to breed? In general I havneo fear ofthe patrol guards idnaytime, but they could
search me, the toads, and I wasn't too crazy about the idea just then. "Were you callingme, captain?" I said. "You were calling some
stalker."
"Are you trying to tell me that you're not a stalker?"
"Once the time I spent thanks to you
owvaesr, I wentstraight. Quit
stalking. Thanks to you, captain, my eyes were opened. If it hadn't been for you....
"What were you doing in the Prezone Area?"
"What do you mean, what? I work there. Two years now. To bring theunpleasant conversation toa close, Ishowed Captain
Quarterblad mypapers. He took my hook and examined it pageby page,
sniffing and smelling every stamp and seal on it. He returned the book and I
could see howpleased he was. Hiesyes lit up and there wacsolor in his cheeks.
"Forgive me,Schuhart," he said". I didn't expect it of you. I'm glad
to see that my advice waswna'tsted on you. Why, that's marvelouYso. u can believe meor not, but evebnack then I knewthat youwould turn out all
right. I just couldn't believe that a fellow like you...." He went on and on

likea record. Looked likeI had saddled myself with another cured melancholic.Of course, I listened, eyes lowered modestly, nodding, spreading my arms innocently, andI riefcall, shyly scuffing the sidewalk withmy foot. The gorillabsehind the captain's back listenead bit, and
then got bored and went off sopmlaece more exciting. Meanwhile the captain waspainting glorious vistasfor my future: education wasthe light,
ignorance was darkness, and the Lord loves and appreciates honest labor, and so on and so forth. He was slinging the same bull the priest used to give us in prison every Sunday. AndreaIlly neededa drink--toy thirstwouldn't
wait. All right, I thought to myself, Red, you can put up with this too. You haveto, so be patient. He cank'et ep itup formuch longerLook, he's
losing his breath al readAy. luckybreak. One of the patrcoal rs started signaling. CaptainQuarterblad lookedaround, heaved a sigh of dismay, and gave me his hand.
"Well, I'm glad I met you, Honest Mr. Schuhart. I would have been happy to drink to this acquaintance. I can't have whidskoecyto, r's orders, but I
would have enjoyead beer. But, duty calls. We'll meet again," he said. God
forbid. But I shook his hand and blushed and shufflefedetm, yjust like he
wanted me to. He finally
mlefet and I headedswift as an arrow fothre
Borscht.
It's always emptythat time of day in the Borscht. Ernwesats behind
tile bar, wiping glasses, and holding them up to the light. It's amazing, by
the way, that whenever you come in, bartenders are always wiping glasses, as though their salvation depended on itsoomrething. He'lljust stand there
all day--pick up a glass, squint at it, huopld toit the light, breathe on

it, and start rubbing. He'll rub and rub, look it over again (this time from the bottom) and then rub some more.
"Hi, Ernie! Leave the poor thing alone. You'll rub a hole through it." He looked at me through the glass, muttered somethinindgistinct and
without afurther word poured me foufirngers of vodka. I climbed up on a
stool,took a sipm,
ade aface, shook my heada,nd had another sipT.he
refrigeratorwas humming, thejukebox was playingsomething soft and low,
Ernest was laboring over another glass. It was peaceful. I finished my drink
and put the glass back down on the bar. Ernest immediately poured me another four fingers.
"A little better?" he muttered. "Coming round, stalker?"
"Stick to your wiping, why don't you. You know, one guy rubbed until he got a genie. Ended up on easy street."
"Who was that?" Ernest asked suspiciously.
"It was another bartender here. Before your time." "What happened?"
"Nothing. Why do yotuhink theVisitation happened. It was alhl is rubbing. Who do you think the Visitors were?"
"You're a bum," Ernie said with approval.
He went to the kitchen and cabmaeck with a plate of grilled hot dogs.
He put the plaitne
front of me, moved the catsup over towmaer,d and went
back tohis glasses. Ernest knows his stuff. His trained reeyceognizes a stalkerreturned from the Zone with swaangd he knows what a stalker needs after a visit to the Zone. Good old Ernie. A humanitarian.
I finished the hot dogs, litciagarette, and started calculating how
much Ernie must make on us. I'm not sure porfictehse the loot goes for in

Europe,but I'd heard that aenmpty can getalmost 2,500, and Ernioenly gives us400· Batteries therecost at leastoo and we're lucky if we can get to from him. Of course, shippthinegloot to Europe musctost plenty. Greasethis palm and thaot ne.... andthe stationmaster must be ohnis
payroll too. When you think abiot,utErnest really doesn't make that much, maybe fifteen or twenty pecre-nt, no more. And if he gets caught, it's ten years at hard labor.
Here my honorable meditations were interrupted by some polite tIype.
hadn't even heard him walk in. He announced himself next to my elbow, asking permission to sit down.
"Don't mention it. Please do."
He was a skinny little guy with a sharp nose
banodw atie.His face
looked familiar, but I couldpnl'at ce him. He climbed up tohne stool next to me and said to Ernest.
"Bourbon, please!" And then turned to me. "Excuse bmute,don't I know you? You work in the International Institute, don't you?"
"Yes. And you?"
He speedily whipped out his business card and set it in front of me. "Aloysius Macnaught, Agent Plenipotentiary of the Emigration Bureau." Well, of course, I knew him. He bugs peoplleeatvoe the city. Aist
is, there's hardly half the population left in Harmyeotnth, e has to clear
the place of us completely. I pushed away his card with my fingernail.
"No thanks. I'm not interested. My dream is to die in my home- I town." "But why?" he jumped qinuickly. "Forgive my indiscretion, bwuthat's
keeping you here?"

"What do you mean? Fondmemories of childhood. Mfyirst kiss in the
municipal parkM.
ommy anddaddy. Myfirst time drunk, right here thinis
bar. The policsetation sodear to my heart...." I took haeavily used handkerchief from my pocket and dabbed my eyes.
"No, I can't leave for any amount!"
He laughed, took a tiny sip of bourbon, and spoke in a thoughtful way. "I just can't understand you Harmonites. Life is touinghthecity.
There's military control. Few amenities. The Zone righttoneyxotu --it's
like sitting on a volcano. An epidemic could break out any day. Or something worse.I can understandthe oldpeople. It's hard for them to leave. But
you, how old ayreou? Twenty-two,twenty-three? Can't you understand that
the bureau is a charitable organization, we don't profit by this in any way. We just want people to leave this hellhole and get bacthke inmtoainstream
of lifeW.
e underwrite the move, find you woFrokr.
young people like you,
we pay for an education. No, I just don't understand!" "Do you mean nobody wants to leave?"
"Not nobody. Some are leaving, particularly the ones with families. But
the youngfolk and the old people--what
ydou people wantin this place?
It's a hick town, a hole." I let him have it.
"Mr. Aloysius Macnaught! You're absolutely rigOhtu. r little town is a
hole. It always has been and still is. But now it is a hole into the future. We'regoing todump somuch through this hole inytoour lousy world that everything wilcl hange in it. Life willbe different. It'll befair.
Everyone will have everything that he needs. Some hole, huh? Knowledge comes
through this hole. And when we have the knowledge, we'll make everyone rich,

and we'll fly to the stars, and go anywhere we want. That's the kind of hole we have here."
I broke off here, because I noticed Ernest watching mame aiznement. I
felt uncomfortable. I don't usualilkye using otherpeople's words, even
when Iagree with them. Besidesit, was coming outkind of funnyW.
hen
Kirill speaks, you listen and forget to close your mouthe.vAenndthough I seem to be saying the same things, it doesn't comthee osuatme. Maybe it's because Kirill never slipped Ernest any loot under the counter....
Ernie snapped to attention and hurriedly poured me six fingers of booze
at once, as if to bring bmacek to my senses. The sharp-nosed Mr. Macnaught took another sip of his bourbon.
"Yes, of course. Eternal batteries, the blue panacea. But do you really believe things will be the way you described them?"
"It's noneof your business whaIt really believe. I was speaking for
the city. As for mysewlfh, at do youhave in Europe that I haven't seen? I know about your boredomY.ou knock yourself ouatll day, andwatch TV all night."
"It doesn't necessarily have to be Europe."
"It's all the same, except that it's cold in Antarctica."
The amazing part was that I believed it in my guts as I said it to him. Our Zonet,he bitch, the killer, was a hundred times dearemr etoat that
second than all of their Europes and Africas. And I wasn't drunIk hyaedt,
just pictured for a minute how I would drag myself home in a herd of cretins justlike myself, how I would be pushed and squeezed in the subway, and how
I was sick and tired of everything.

"And what about you?" he asked Ernest.
"I have a business," he repliesdelf-importantly. "I'm no punk. I've
invested all mmy oney in this business. The base commander himself comes in once in a while, a general, you understand? Why should I leave here?"
Mr. Aloysius Macnaught tried tomake some pointq, uoting a loot f figures. But I wasn't listeningt.ooIk a good long gulp, pulled out a lot
of change from my pocket, got off the stool and pumped the juTkheebreo'xs.
a song on there: "Don't Come BacYkoIuf're Not Sure." It has a good effect on me after a trip to the Zone.juTkheebox was howlingand rocking. I had taken myglass into the corner where I was hoptiongeven old scores with
the one-armed bandit. Antidme flew like a birId.was putting in mlayst nickel when Richard Noonan and Gutalin crasihnetod the hospitable armosf thebar. Gutalin was blottor,olling hiseyes and looking for palace to
resthis fist.Richard Noonan was tenderly holding him tbhye elbowand distracting him with jokes. A pretty pair! Gutalin is ablhauckgeape with
knuckles down to his knees, and Dick is a small round pink creature that all but glows.
"Hey!" shouted Dick. "There's Red! Come over and join us!"
"R-r-right!" roared Gutalin. "There are only two real men in this whole city--Red and me! All the rest paigres orSatan's children. Red, you also serve the devil, but you're still human."
I came over witmh y glass. Gutalin peeled off my jacket and semateed
at the table.
"Sit down, Red! Sit down, Satan's servant. I like you. Let's have a cry over the sins of mankind. A good long bitter wail."
"Let's wail," I said. "Let's drink the tears of sin."

"For theday isnigh," Gutalin announced". For thewhite steed is saddledand his rider has phuits foot in the stirrup. And pthraeyers of those who have sotlhdemselves to Satanare in vainO. nly those whohave
renounced him wiblle saved. Youc, hildren of manwho were seduced by the devil, who plawy ith the devil'stoys, who dig up Satan's treasures--I say unto you: you are blind! Awake, you bastards, bietf'sorteoo late! Trample
the devil'strinkets!" He stopped, as though he had forgottwenhat came
next. "Can I get a drink here?" he suddenly asked in a different voice. "You know, Red, I've been canned again. Said I was an agitator. I keep explaining tothem: Awake, blind onesy,ou're falling into the pit and taking others
with you! Thejyust laughed. SoI punchedthe shop leader in the nose and split. They'lal rrest me now. And for what?D" ick came over and put the bottle on the table.
"It's on me today!" I called to Ernest. Dick gave me a sidelong look.
"It's perfectly legal," I said. "We're drinking my bonus check." "You went into the Zone?" Dick asked. "Bring anything out?" "A full empty," I said. "Ftohre altarof science.Are yougoing to
pour that or not?"
"An empty!"Gutalin echoedin sorrow. "You risked your life sfoomr e empty! You survivedb,ut you brought another devil'sartifact into the
world. How do you know, Red, how much of sorrow and sin. . . ." "Can it, Gutalin," I said severely. "Drink and rejoice that I came back
alive. To success, my friends."
It went over well, the toast to success. Gutalin fell apart completely.

Hewas weeping,the tears streaming likwe ater from a spoutI.
know him
well. It's jusat phase. Weeping and preaching that the Zone is the devil's temptation. That we should take nothing out of it and return everything that we'vetaken. And go on living as thouthgeh Zone were not there. Leave the devil'sthings to the devil. lIike him. Gutalin, I meanu. sIually like
weirdos.When he has moneyh,e buysup theswag withouthaggling, for whatever price the stalkers ask, atontdes it back at nighint to the Zone and buries it. He was waiting. But he would be stopping soon.
"What's a full empty?" Dick asked. "I know whpaltaian empty is, but this is the first time I've ever heard of a full one."
I explained it to him. He nodded and smacked his lips.
"Yes, that's very interesting. Something neWw.ho did you go with? The
Russian?"
"Yes, with Kirill and Tender. You know, our lab assistant." "They must have driven you crazy."
"Nothing of thekind. They behaved quite well. Especially Kirill. He's
a born stalker. He just needs a little more experience, to breakhihsim of
hurrying, and I'd go into the Zone every day with him." "And every night?" he asked with a drunken smirk. "Drop it. A joke's a joke."
"I know. A joke's a jokbeu,t it can get mineto alot of trouble. I
owe you one."
"Who gets one?" Gutalin got excited. "Which one is it?"
We grabbed him by the arms and got him ibnachkis chair. Dick stuck a cigarette in his mouth alnitd it. We calmed hidmown. Meanwhile more and
more people were coming in. The bar was crowdedmaannyd of the tables were

taken. Ernesthad gotten hisgirls and theywere bringing drinksto the customers--beer,cocktails, vodka. I noticetdhat there were a lot noefw
faces in town lately, mostly young punks with long bright scarves hanging to the Boor. I mentioned it to Dick. Dick nodded.
"What do you expect? They'restarting alot of construction. The instituteis putting up three newbuildings and besidesthat they're
planning to waollff the Zone from the cemetery to theraonlcdh. The good times are over for the stalkers."
"When were the good old dayfosr stalkers?"I said. There you gIo,
thought, what's all this new stufgf?ueIss I won't be able to m a feew bucks on the side any more. Maiyt'bsefor the best. Letsesmptation. I'll
go into the Zone in the daytime, like a decent citizen. The montehye's not
same,of course, but it's a lot safTehr.e boot, the special suit, asnod
on, and no worries with the border patrol. I can live on my salary, and I'll
boozeit upon thebonuses. ThenI got really depressedP.enny-pinching
again: Ican afford this, I cana'ftford that. I'd have
stoave up to buy
Guta the crummiest rag, no more bars, just cheap movies. It was bleak. Every day was graya,nd every evening, andevery night. I wassitting there
thinking, and Dick was yelling in my ear.
"Last night at the hotel I went into the bar for a nightcap. There were somenew guys there. I didn't like their looks at all. One comes over to me andstarts a conversation in a roundabout way, lets me know that he knows me,knows what I do, where I work, and hintsheth'sarteady to paygood
money for various services."
"An informer," I saidI.
wasn't veryinterested. I've had my fill of

informers and little talks about services.
"No, buddy, not an informer. Listen. I chatted for a bit, carefully, of course, led him on. He's interesitnedcertain objects in the Zone. Serious ones, at that. Batteries, itchebrsla, ck sprays, and othesruch baubles do nothing for him. He only hinted at what he did want.
"What was it?"
"Witches' jelly, as far as I could understand," Dick said and looked at me strangely.
"Oh, so he wantsthe witches' jelly,does he? How about some death lamps while he's at it?"
"I asked him the same thing. "And?"
"Would you believe that he wants some, too."
"Yes?" I said. "Well, let him go get it himself. It's a snap. There are cellars full of witches' jelly. Let him take a bucket and baasiml uocuht
as he wants. It's his funeral."
Dick said nothing and watchemde withouteven smiling. Whathe hell was he thinking? Was he thinking of hiring me? And then I got it. "Hold on," I said. "Who was that gYuyo?u're not allowedto study the
jelly even at the institute.
"Right." Dick wasspeaking slowly and watching me. "It's research that
holds potential danger for mankind. Now do you understand who that was?" I understood nothing.
"The Visitors, you mean?" He laughed, patted my hand, and said: "Why' don't we just have a drink instead. You're such a simple soul!"
"OK by me," I said. But I was angry. The sons of bitches think I'm such

a simpleton, eh? "Hey, Gutalin," I said. "Gutalin! Wake up, let's drink!" Gutalin was fast asleep. His black chelaeyk on the black tabletop and
his hands drooped down to the floor. Dick and I had a drink without him. "All right, now," I said. "Simple soul or complicatIe'ldl , tell you
whatI woulddo about that guy.You know how much lovIehavefor the police, but I'd turn him in.
"Sure. And the police would aysoku why thisguy turned to you rather than someone else. Then what?" I shook my head.
"It doesn't matter. You, yofuat jerk, you'veonly been inthe city
three years and haven't been in the Zone once. You've only seen the witches' jelly in the movieYs.ou should seeit in real life and whadt oiet s to a
human being. It's a horrible thing ansdhoiutldn't bebrought out ofthe Zone. Youknow yourself that stalkers are a rough bunacllh,theywant is money andmore money, but eventhe late Slimy wouldnh'tave gone in on a
deal like that. Buzzard Burbridge wouldn't go for it either. I hate to think who would need witches jelly and for what.
"Well, you're right about all thasta,"id Dick. "But you see, I'd hate
to be found one morning in hbaevding committed suicide. I'm not a stalker, but I am paractical person anyway, and I like living, kynoouw. I've been doing it for a long time and I've gotten into the habit."
Ernest shouted from the bar: "Mr. Noonan! Telephone!"
"What the hell!" Dick said angrily. "Must be Shipping Adjustment again. They find you everywhere. Excuse me, Red."
He gotup andwent to the phone. I stayed behind with Gutalin and the

bottle, and since Gutalin was of no help at all, I attacked the bottle on my
own. Goddamn that Zone. You can't get away from it. Wherever you go, whoever you talk toit,'s always the Zone, the Zone, the Zone. It's easy for Kirill
totalk about the eternapleace and harmony that wcilol me from the Zone. Kirillis a fine fellow and nofool --on the contrary,he's really
bright--but he doesn't know a damn thaibnogut life. He can't eveimn agine
what kind of scum and criminals hang around the Zone. Now somebodytowants
get his hands on the witches' jeGlluyt.alin may be a drunk and a religious nut,but maybe he's got something there. Maywbee should leave the devil's things to the devil? Hands off.
Some punk in a bright scarf sat in Dick's chair. "Mr. Schuhart?"
"So what?"
"My name is Creon. I'm from Malta. "So how are things in Malta?"
"Things are fine in Malta, but that's not what I wanted atobotuatl.k
Ernest put me on to you.
So, I thought. That Ernest reawllyas a bastard. Not a drop of pity in him.Here's this young guy--tan, ancdlean, and pretty. Hasn't ever shaved
or kissed a girl. But Ernest doesn't care. He just wants to send more people into the Zone. One outthorfee will come bacwk ith swag, and that's money
for him.
"So how's old Ernest?" I asked. He looked over at the bar.
"He looks well. I wouldn't mind trading places with him."
"I would. Want a drink?"

"Thanks, I don't drink." "A smoke?"
"Forgive me, but I don't smoke, either."
"Damn you then. What the hell do you need the money for?" He blushed and stopped smiling.
"Probably," he said in a low voice, "that concerns only me, doesn't it, Mr. Schuhart?"
"You're absolutely right," I said andpoured myself anotherfour
fingers. My head was beginning to buzz and I was feeling a nice looseness in my limbs. The Zone hlaedt go of me completely. "I'dmrunk right now. I'm celebrating, as you can seIe.went intothe Zone and cambeack alive and
with money. It doesnh'at ppen veryoften thatpeople come back alive and evenmore rarely that they come back with money. So why wdoen'pt ostpone any serious discussions."
He jumped up anedxcused himself. I saw thaDt ick was back. He was standingby his chairand I couldsee in his face that something had happened.
"Your tanks losing their vacuum again?" "Yep," he said. "Again."
He satdown, poured himselfa drink, freshened minea,nd I could see that whatever it waist, had nothing to do with fauglotyods. To tellthe truth, he couldn't care less about the shipments--a model worker!
"Let's have a drink, Red." Without waitfionrg me hegulped down his drink and poured himself another. "You know Kirill Panov died."
I was so stoned that I didn't quite understand. Someone died. So what.

"Well, let's drink to the departed."
He looked at me with his round eyaneds
only thendid I feel as if a
stringhad snapped inside my body. rIemember that I goutp and leaned against the table. I looked down at him.
"Kirill?" The silver web wasbefore my eyesand I couldhear it
cracking again as tiotre. Andthrough theeerie sound of the crackinIg
could hear Dick's voice as though he were in another room.
"Heart attack. They found him in the shower, naked. Nobody knows what's happened. They asked about you. I told them you were in perfect shape."
"What's to understand? It's the Zone." "Sit down. Sit down and have a drink."
"The Zone," I repeated. I couldn't stop saying it. "The Zone, the Zone.
. . ."
I couldn't see anything around me exceptthfeor silver web. The whole barwas caughtin the weband as peoplemoved around,the web crackled softly as they toucheitd. The Maltese boy was standingthien middle. His childlike face was surprised--he didn't understand a thing.
"Little boy," I said gently. "How mudcoh you need? Will a thousand be enough?Here, takeit. Take it!" Ishoved the moneyat him andstarted shouting: "Go to Ernest and tell him that he's a bastard andDoscnu'tmb.e afraid! Tell him! He's a cowatordo,. Tell him and then go straitgohtthe
station andbuy a ticket foMr alta! Don't stop anywhere." I don't remember
what elseI shouted. I do remember ending up in front of the bar and Ernest giving me a glass of soda.
"You're in the money today?" he asked.
"Yes, I've got some."

"How about a little loan? I have to pay my taxes tomorrow."
I realized that I had a bundle of money in my hand. I looked at the wad and muttered:
"That means he didn't take it. Creon of Malta is a yporuonugd man, it seems. Well, it's out of my hands. Whatever happens now is fate."
"What's the matter wityhou?" mypal Ernie asked". Had a little too much?"
"Nope, I'm fine," I said. "Perfect shape. Ready for the showers." "Why don't you head on home? You've had a little too much." "Kirill died." I said to him.
"Which Kirill? The one-armed one?"
"You're one-armed yourself, you bastard. You couldn't make one man like Kirill from a thousand like you. You rat, you son of a bitch, you lousy scum bastard. You're dealing in death, you know that? You bought us all with your dough. You want to see me tear your little shop apart?"
And just when I reared back to alagyood one on him I was grabbed and hauled off somewhere. I couldn't understaanndything then and I didn't want
to. I was shouting and fighting and kickingwahnedn I came to I was in the john,all wet, andmy face wasin lousy shape.I didn'teven recognize
myself inthe mirror. My cheek wastwitching, I'd never had that before. OutsideI could hear a racket, dishebsreaking, the girls squealinga,nd Gutalin roaring louder than a grizzly:
"Repent, you good-for-nothings!Where's Red? What have yoduone with him, you seeds of the devil?" And the wail of the police siren.
As soonas I heard it, everything became crystal clear inbrmainy. I

rememberedeverything, knew everything, anudnderstood every- thing. And
there wasnothing left in my soul but icy hatred.
tShoo,ugIht, I'll give
you aparty! I'll showyou whata stalkeris, you lousy bloodsucker!I
pulledout anitcher from my watch pocket. It was brand new, never used. I squeezed it a coupolef times to get it going, opened the door into the bar and tossedit quietly into thespittoon. ThenI opened thewindow and
climbed out into the street. I really wanted to stick aarnodunsdee it all happen, but hIad to get out of there as fast as possible. The itchers give me nosebleeds
I ran across the backyard. I could hmeyar itcher workingfull blast. First altlhe dogs in the neighborhoosdtarted howlingand barking --they
sense theitcher before humansdo. Then someone in the bar started yelling so loud that meyars clogged even at that distancIec.ould just seethe
crowd going wild in there--some fall into deep depression, others freak out, and some panic with fear. The itcher is a terrifying thing. Ernest will have along wait beforehe can get a full house in his place again. The bastard
will guess of course that it was me, but Igivdeona't damn.It's over.
There is no more stalknearmed Red. I've haednough. Enough of risking my own lifeand teaching other foolshow to risk theirs. Yowu ere wrong,
Kirill, my old buddy. I'm sorry, but you were wronGguatanldin wasright. This was no place for humans. The Zone was evil.
I climbed over the fence and headed home. I was biting my lip. I wanted to cry, buItcouldn't. All I saw waesmptiness andsadness. Kirill, my
buddy, my only friend, how could it have happened? How will I get on without you? You painted vistas for me, about a new waocrlhda,nged world. And now
what? Someonein far-off Russia wicllry for you, but I canA'tn. d it was

all my fault. No oenlese but me, a good-for-nothing. How could I htiamke
intothe garage whenhis eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark?livI'edd my
whole life like a wolf, caroinngly about myself. And suddenly I decided to be abenefactor andgive him a littlperesent. Whythe helldid I ever mentionthat empty to him? WheInthought about itI, felt a pain in my
throat and I wantetod
howl.Maybe I did. People were avoidimnge on the
street. And then things got easier: I saw Guta coming.
She wascoming toward me, my beauty, my darling girl, walking with her pretty little feet, her skirt swaying over her knees. Eyes followed her from every doorway. But she was walking a straight line, looking at no one, and I realized that she was looking for me.
"Hello," Isaid. "Guta, whereare you going?"She took me iinn one
glance--my bashed-in facem, y wet jacket, my scraped hands--but sdhiden't say a thing.
"Hello, Red. I was just coming to see you." "I know. Let's go to my place."
She turned away ansdaid nothing.Her head is so pretty on hloenr g neck, like a young mare's, proud but submissive to her master.
"I don't know, Red. You may not want to see me any more." My heart contracted. What now? But I spoke calmly.
"I don't understandwhat you'regetting at, GutaF. orgive me,I'm a littledrunk today, so I'm not thinking straight. Why wouldn't want to see you any more?"
I took her hand and we walked slowly toward my place. Everybody who had
been eyeing her befowreas hurrying to hide his mug now. I've lived on this

street all my life and everybody knows Red very well. And anyone who doesn't will get to know me fast enough, and he can sense that.
"Mother wants me to have an abortion," she said suddenly. "I don't want to." I had walked several steps before I understood what she was saying.
"I don't want an abortion. I want to have your Ychoiuldc.an do what
you want, go off to the four corners of the world. I won't keep you.
I listened to her and watched her get heated up. And I was feeling more and morestunned. I just couldn't makheead or tail of it. There was this nonsensical thought buzzing in my head: one man less, one man more.
"She keepstelling me that a babbyy a stalker will be a freak, that you'rea wanderer, that we'll have no refaalmily. Today you're free, tomorrow you're in jail. But I don't care, I'm froeradaynything. I can do
it alone. I'll have him alone, I'll raise him alone, and make him into a man alone.I can managewithout you, too. Budton't you come around to me any more. I won't let you through the door."
"Guta, my darling girl," sIaid. "Wait a minute...." I couldn't go on talking.A nervous,idiotic laugh was welling andbreaking meup. "My honeypie, why are you chasing me away then?"
I was laughing like a village idiot, and she was bawling on my chest. "What will happen to us now, Red?" she asked through her tears. "What will happen to us now?"
2. REDRICK SCHUHART, AGE 28,
MARRIED, NO PERMANENT OCCUPATION

Redrick Schuhart lay behind a gravestone and looked at the road through abranch of the asthree. The searchlights otfhe patrol car were combing
the cemeteryand once ina while one caught him in the eyes. Then he would squint and hold his breath.
Two hours had passed and things were still the samteheornoad. The
car was still parked, its motor throbbing evenly, and kept scanning with its threesearchlights the rundown graves, the lopsidedr,usty crosses and
headstones, the overgrown bushy ash trees, and the crest of the
ten-foot-thick wall that broke off on lethfte. The borderpatrol guards
wereafraid of the ZoneT. hey didn'teven get outof the carN.
ear the
cemetery, theywere eventoo scaredto shoot.Redrick could heartheir lowered voices once in a while, and oinncae whilehe could see the light of acigarette butt fly out of tchaer window and roldl own the highway,
skipping along and scattering weak red sparks. It was very damp, it had just rained,and Redrick could feel the dank coldthrough his waterproof
jumpsuit.
He carefully released the branch, turnedhis head,and listened. Somewhere to threight, not too far, but not too cloeisteher, there was someone else in the cemetery. The learvuestsled there once moreand soil crumbled, andthen therewas the soft thudof something hard andheavy falling. Redrickstarted crawling backwardc, arefully and without turning around, huggingthe wet grass. Thbeeam of lighstwung over his head. He
froze, followingits silent movement, and he thought he
asawman in black
sitting motionless oan grave between the crossesH.
e was sitting there
openly, leaning against maarble obelisk, turninghis white facewith its

black sunken holes toward Redrick. Actually Redrick did not see him clearly, nor was it possible in the split second he had, but he filled in the details
with hisimagination. He crawled away a few mosrteps and felt for his flaskinside hisjacket. He pulledit out andlay withits warmmetal
against his cheek for a while. Then still holding onto the flask, he crawled on. He stopped listening and looking around.
There was a break in thwe all and Burbridge was lyintghere in a lead-lined raincoatwith abullet hole in it. He wsatisll on his back, Pulling at the collar of his sweater with both hands and mpoaainfiunlgly.
Redricksat next to him and unscrewetdhe flask's cap. He carefully held
Burbridge's head, feeling the hot, sticskwy,eaty bald spotwith his palm,
and brought the Bastok
the oldman's lips. It was dark, biunt
the weak
reflectionsof thesearchlights Redrick could see Burbridge'ws ide-open,
glassy eyes and the dark stubble that covered his cheeks. Burbridge greedily took several gulps and then nervously felt for his sack with the swag.
"You came back.... Good fellow.... Red. You won't leave amn aonldto die."
Redrick threw back his head and took a deep swallow. "It's still there. Like it was nailed to tile highway.
"it's no accident," Burbridge said. He spokespiunrts, on the exhale. "Someone must have squealed. They're waiting for us"
"Maybe, said Redrick. "Want another swallow?"
"No. That's enough for now. Don't abandon Imf ey.ou don't leave me, I
won't die. You won't be sorry. You won't leave me, will you? Red?" Redrick did not answer. He was looking ovaetr the highwayand the
flashes of lighHt. e could see the marble obelisk, butcohueldn't tell if

he was sitting there or not.
"Listen, Red. I'm not fooling. You won't be sorryyoDu oknow why old
Burbridge is still alive? Do you know? Bob tile Gorilla blew it. Pharaoh the
Bankerkicked the bucketA.
nd whata stalker he was! And hweas killed.
Slimy, tooA.
nd Norman Four-Eyes. Culligan. Pete the Scab. AII of them. I'm
the only who's survived. Why? Do you know?"
"You were always a rat, said Red, never takhiinsgeyes off the road. "A son of a bitch."
"A rat.That's true.You can't get by without being oBneu.t all of
them were. Pharaoh. Slimy. But I'm the only one left. Do you know why?" "I know," said Red to end the conversation.
"You're lying. You don't know. Have you heard about the Golden Ball?" "Yes.
"You think it's a fairy tale?"
"You'd better keep quiet. Save your strength.
"It's all rightY. ou'll carry meout. We've gone to thZeone so many
times. Could yoaubandon me? I knewyou when. Youwere so small. Your father....
Redrick said nothing. He wantedciagarette badly. He took one out, crumpled the tobacco in his hand, and sniffed it. It didn't help.
"You have to get me out. I got burned because of you. You'orenethe
who wouldn't take the Maltese.
The Maltesewas itching to go with them.He had treated them all
evening, offering a good percentage, swore that he would get a special suit, and Burbridge, who wasistting next to him, kept winkitnog Red behind his

leatheryhand. Let's take him, we won't go wrong. Matyhbaet was why Red said no.
"You got it because you were greedRy,e"d saidcoldly. "I had nothing to do with it. You'd better be quiet. "
For a whileB, urbridge moaned.He had his fingers in his collar again and his head was thrown back.
"You can have all the swag," he gasped. "just don't leave me.
Redrick looked at his watch. There wasn't much time until dawn, and the patrol carwas still there. Its spotlights were still searching the bushes,
and theircamouflaged jeep wasquite close to the police car. They could find it any minute.
"The Golden Ball,"said Burbridge. "I found it. There wesreo many tales about it. I spaunfew myself. Thait wouldgrant your every wish. Anywish, hah! If that weretrue, I sure wouldn't be here. I'd be living high on the hog in Europe. Swimming in dough."
Redrick looked downat him. In the flickering blue light Bur- bridge's upturned face looked dead. But his glassy eyes were fixed on Redrick. "Eternal youth--like hell I got it. Money--the hell with that, too. But
I got health. And good children. And I'm alive. You can only dream about the
places I've been. And I'm still alive." He licked his
olinplsy. "aIsk for
one thing. Let me live. And give me health. And the children.
"Will you shut up?" Red finally said. "You sound like a dame. If I can, I'll get you out. I'm sorry for your Dina. She'll have to hit the streets.
"Dina," the oldman whispered hoarsely."My little girl. My beauty. They'respoiled, Red. I'venever refused them anything. They'll lboest.
Arthur. My Artie. You know him, Red. Have you ever seen anything like him?"

"I told you: if I can I'll save you."
"No," Burbridge said stubbornly. "You'll get me out no matter what. The
Golden Ball. Do you want me to tell you where it is?" "Go ahead." Burbridge moaned and stirred.
"My legs.... Feel how they are."
Redrick reached out and moved his hand down his leg below the knee. "The bones...." He moaned. "Are the bones still there?"
"They're there. Stop fussing."
"You're lying. Why lieY? ou think I don'tknow, I've never seen it happen?"
Actually all he could fewelas the kneecap. Below, all the way to the ankle, the leg was like a rubber stick. You could tie knots in it.
"The knees are whole," Red said.
"You're probablylying," Burbridge said sadly. "Well, all rigjuhst.t
get me out. I'll give you everything. The Golden Ball. I'll drawmyaopu. Show you all the traps. I'll tell you everything."
He promised other things, too, but Redrwicaksn't listening. He was lookingat the highway. The spotlighwtseren't racing across the shrubbery any more. Thewy ere frozen. They converged othnat obelisk.In the bright bluefog Redrick could see thebent black figure wanderingamong the crosses.The figure seemedto be moving blindly, straight into the lights. Redrick saw it buminpto a huge cross, stumble, bump into the cargoasisn, walk around it, and continue iotsn,arms outstretched beforeit, fingers
spread wide. Then it suddenly disappeared, as though it fell underground; it
surfaced a few seconds later, to the right and farther away, stepping with a

bizarre, inhuman stubbornness, like a wind-up toy.
Suddenly thelights wentout. The transmission squealedth, e engine roared, and the blue and red signal lights shothwroeudgh the shrubs. The patrolcar toreaway, accelerated wildly, and raced toward town. It
disappeared behind the wall. Redrick gulped and unzipped his jump suit. "They've gone away." Burbridge muttered feverishly. "Red, let's go.
Hurry!" We shifted around, felt for and foundbagh,is and tried to get up. "Let's go, what are you waiting for?"
Redrick was still looking toward the road. It was dark now, and nothing could be seen, bsuot mewhere out there he was stalking, likeauatnomaton, stumbling, falling, bumping into crosses, getting tangled in the shrubs.
"All right," Red said out loud. "Let's go."
He lifted Burbridge. The old man clampoendto hisneck with hisleft hand.Redrick, unable tostraighten up,crawled withhim on all fours through the hole in the wall, grabbing the wet grass.
"Let's go, let'sgo," Burbridge whispered hoarsely. "Don't worry, I've got the swag, I won't let go. Come on!"
The path was familiar, but the wet grass was slippery, the ash branches whippedhim in the face, thbeulky old man wasunbearably heavy, like a
corpse, andthe bag with the booty, clinking and clanginkge,pt getting
caught,and he was afraid of running into him, who could be anywhere in the dark.
When they got out onthoe highway, iwt as stilldark, but you could
tell thadt awn was coming. Itnhe littlewood across the road, birds were making sleepy and uncertain noisaens,d thenight gloom was turningblue
over the black houses in the distant suburbs. There was a chilly damp breeze

comingfrom there. Redrick putBurbridge on the shoulder of trhoead and
like a big black spider scuttled across the road. He quickly found the jeep, swept off thberanches fromthe hood and fenders, and drove out otnhteo
asphalt without turning on thheeadlights. Burbridge was there, holding the bag in one hand and feeling his legs with the other.
"Hurry up! Hurry. My knees, I still have my knIfeeosn.ly wecould save my knees!"
Redrick picked himup, and grittinghis teeth from the strain, shoved
him over the side. Burbridge landed on the backansdeagt roaned. He hadn't dropped the bag. Redrick picked up the lead- lined raincoactovaenrded him with it. Burbridge had even managed to get the coat out.
Redrick tookout a flashlight and checked thsehoulder fortracks. Thereweren't too manytraces. The jeep had Battened some otfhe tall
grasses as it camoento the road, but the grass would stand up in a couple of hours. There were eannormous number of butts around tshpeot where the patrol car had parked. That reminded Redrick htehawt anted a smoke. He lit
one up, even though what he wanted more was to get the hell out of there and drive as fast as he could. But he couldn't do that yet. Everything had to be
done slowly and consciously.
"What's the matter?" Burbridge whined from thecar. "Youhaven't
spilled the water, and the finishing gear is dry. What awreaityinogu
for?
Come on, hide the swag!"
"Shut up! Don't bug me! We'll head for the southern suburbs." "What suburbs? Are you crazy? You'll ruin my knees, yboaustard! My
knees!"

Redrick took a last drag and put the butt in his matchbox.
"Don't be a jerk, Buzzard. We can't go straight through town. There are three roadblocks. We'll get stopped once for sure."
"So what?"
"They'll take one look at your feet and it's curtains."
"What about my legs? We were fishing, I hurt my legs, and that's that." "And what if they feel your legs?"
"Feel them. I'lyl ell so loudthat they'llnever try feeling laeg again."
But Redrick had already decideHd.e lifted the driver's seat, flashing his light, opened a secret compartment, and said:
"Let me have the stuff."
The gas tank undetrhe seat wasa dummy. Redrick tookthe bagand stuffed it inside, listening to the clinking and clanging in the bag.
"I can't take any risks," he muttered. "I don't have the right. He putthe cover back on, covereidt upwith rubbish and ragsa,nd
replaced the seat. Burbridge was moaning and groaning, begging him to hurry, and promising him the Golden Ball again. He twisted and shifted in his seat, staringanxiously into the growing light. Redrick paid no attention to him.
Hetore open the plastic bag of water wthiethfish init, poured out the water over thfeishing gear, and put the floppifnigsh into the basket. He folded up thpelastic bag and put it in phoiscket. Noweverything was in order.Two fishermen coming back from a not very successful trip. He got behind the wheel and started the car.
He drove all the watyo theturn without putting on the lighTtsh.e
vastten-foot wall stretched ttohe left of them, hemming in the Zone, and

ontheir right there were occasional abandonedcottages, with bearded
windows and peeling paint. Redrick could see well in the dark, and it wasn't thatdark any more anyway, and besides, he knew that it was coming. So when the bentfigure, striding rhythmically, appeared before tchaer, he didn't
even slow down. He hunched over the whHeeel.was walking itnhe middle of the road--like all of them, he was headed for Rtoewdrni.ck passed him from the left and speeded up.
"Mother of God!" Burbridge muttered in the back seat. "Red, did you see that?"
"Yes."
"God! That's all we need!" Suddenly Burbridge broke into a loud prayer. "Shut up!" Redrick shouted at him.
The turn should have been right around thseorme ewhere. Redrick slowed
down, staring at the row of sinking houses and fences on the rigohldt. The
transformerhut, the pole with the supports, trhoetting bridge over the culvert. Redrick turned the wheel. The car tossed and turned.
"Where areyou going?" Burbridge wailed. "You'll ruin my legs, you bastard!"
Redrick turnedaround fora second and slappedthe old man's face,
feeling his prickly stubbled cheek. Burbridge sputtered and fell silent. The car was bouncing and the wheselilpsped in the fresh mud from lnaisgtht's
rain. Redrickturned on the lightsT.he white bouncinglight illuminated
overgrown oldruts, huge puddles, and rotten, leaning fences. Burbridge was crying,sobbing, and snuffling. He wasn't promisianngything any moreH. e
was complaining antdhreatening, butin a very quiet and indistinct voice,

so that Redrick heard only isolated words. Sometahbinogut legs, knees, and his darling Archie. Then he shut up.
The village stretched along thwe estern edge of the citTy.here once
had been summer houses, gardens, orchards, and the summer villas of the city fathersand plant directors. Green, pleasant placewsith small lakesand
clean sandy beaches, translucent birch groves, and ponds stockedcawrpit.h
The stink and pollution from the plant never reached this verdant glade--nor
did the city plumbing system. But now everything here was abandoned and they passedonly one inhabited house--the window shone yellow throtuhgeh drawn blinds,the wash on thleine was wet from the rain, aandhuge dog rushed
outat them furiously ancdhased the car through the mud thrown uptheby
wheels.
Redrick carefully drove over an orlidckety bridge. When he could see
the turnoff to Western Highway, he stopped the car and turned off the motor. Then he got. out and went on the road without looking back at Burbridge, his handsstuffed into the damp pockets of his jumpsuit.It was light.
Everythingaround themwas wet, still, ansdleepy. Hewalked over to the highwayand peered from the bushes.The police:checkpoint was easily visible fromhis vantage point: laittle trailer house, with three lighted windows.The patrol car was parked next to it. It was eRmepdtyri.ck stood watching for some time. Thewreas no actionat the checkpoint;the guards musthave gotten cold and wornout during the naignhdt were warming up in thetrailer. Dreaming overcigarettes stuck to theirlower lips. "The toads,"Redrick said softly. He fountdhe brass knuckles ihnis pocket,
slipped his fingerisnto the oval holes, pressetdhe cold metal into his
fist, and still hunched up against the chill and with his hands still in his

pockets, hewent back. Thejeep, listingslightly to one side, was parked amongthe bushes. Itwas a lost, quiet spot. Probably nobody had looked at it in the last ten years.
When Redrickreached the car, Burbridge sat up alonodked at him, his mouth open. He looked even older than uwsurainl,kled, bald,unshaven, and with rotten teethT. hey stared at eacohther silently,and then Burbridge
said distinctly:
"The map . . . tahlel
traps, everything. . . . You'll find it and you
won't be sorry."
Redrick listenedto him without moving; then he loosenheisdfingers and let the brass knuckles fall into his pocket
"All right. Allyou have to dios lie there ian faint. Understand? Moan and don't let anyone touch you."
He got behind the wheel and started the car.
Everything went well. No one got out of the trailer when the jeep drove slowlypast, obeying all the signs and makingthaell correct signals. It
accelerated and sped into town through die southern end. It was six A.M. The streets were empty, the pavement wet and shiny black, and the traffic lights winked lonely and unneeded at the intersections. Tdhroeyve past the bakery
with its highb,rightly lit windowsa, nd Redrick was engulfed in a wave of the warm, incredibly delicious smell of baking bread.
"I'm starved," Redrick said and stretched his stiffenemduscles by pushing his hands into the wheel.
"What?" Burbridge asked frightenedly.
"I'm starved, I said. Where to? Home or straight to the Butcher?"

"To the Butcher, and hurry." Burbridge was ranting, leaning forward and breathing hotly on Redrick's neck. "Straight to his house. Come on! He still owes me seven hundreWd. ill you drive faster? You're crawling like a louse
ina puddle." He started cursingimpotently and angrily, sputtering, panting. It ended in a coughing fit.
Redrick did not answer. Hehad neitherthe timenor the energyto
pacify Buzzardwhen he was goinagt full speed. He wanted to Finishasup
soon aspossible and get an hour or sosleoefp before his appointment at
the Metropole. He turned onto Sixteenth Street, drove two blocks, and parked in front of a gray, two-story private house.
The Butchercame to the door himself. He had just gotten up and was on his wayto the bathroom. He was wearing a luxurious wroibthe gold tassels
and was carrying a glass withfahlisse teeth.His hair was disheveled and there were dark circles under his eyes.
"Oh, itsh Red? Sho how are you?"
"Put in your teeth and let's go."
"Uh-huh." He nodded him inthoe waitingroom and hurried off
thoe
bathroom, scuffing along in his Persian slippers. "Who is it?" he asked from there.
"Burbridge." "What?"
"His legs."
Redrick could hear runninwg ater, snorting, splashing, and some- thing
fall and roll along the tile floor in the bathroom. Redrick sank exhaustedly into an armchair and lit a cigarette. The waiting room was nice. The Butcher didn'tskimp. He was ahighly competent and veryfashionable surgeon,

influential in both city and stmateedical circles.He had gotten mixed up
with the stalkers not for the moneyc,ouorfse. He collected from the Zone: hetook various types of swag, which he usedrefsoerarch in his practice; hetook knowledge, sincehe studied stricken stalkersand thevarious
diseases, mutilationsa, nd traumasof the human body thhaat d never been
known before; and htoeok glory, becoming famous as the first doctor on the planetto be aspecialist in nonhuman diseases omf an. He wasalso not
averse to taking money, and in great amounts.
"What specificallyis wrong withhis legs?"he asked, appearing from
the bathroom with a huge towel around his nHeeckw. as carefully drying his sensitive fingers with the corner of the towel.
"Landed in the jelly," Redrick said. The Butcher whistled.
"Well, that's the end of Burbridge. Too bad, he was a famous stalker." "It's all right," Redrick said, leaning back in the chair. "You'll make
artificial legs for him. He'll hobble around the Zone on them." "All right." The Butcher's face became completely businesslike.
"Wait a minute, I'll get dressed."
While he dressed and madecaall--probably to his clinic
ptore- pare
thingsfor the operation--Redrick loungedimmobile in the armchairand
smoked. He moved only ontcoe get his flask. He drank in small sips because therewas only a little on the bottom, and he tried to think about nothing.
He simply waited.
They both walked out to the car. Redrick got in the drivert'sheseat,
Butchernext to him. Heimmediately bent over the backseat to palpate
Burbridge's legsB. urbridge, subdued and withdrawn, mutterepdathetically,

promisingto shower him with golmd,entioning his deceased wife andhis children repeatedly, and begging htimo save at leashtis knees. When they got to the clinic, the Butcchuersed at not finding the orderliwesaiting
at the driveway and jumped outheof moving car to run inside. Redrick lit another cigarette. Burbridge suddenly spokcele,arly and calmly, apparently completely calm at last:
"You tried to kill me. I won't forget."
"I didn't kill you, though," Redrick said.
"No, you didn't...." He was silent. "I'll remember that, too."
"You do that. Of course, you wouldn't have tried to kill me." He turned andlooked at Burbridge. The old man wnearsvously moving his lips. "You
would have abandoned me just like that," said Redrick.
"You would have left mine
the Zone and throwmne in the waterL.ike
Four-eyes."
"Four-eyes died on his own," Burbridge said gloomily. "I had nothing to do with it. It got him."
"You bastard," Redrick said dispassionately, turnianwg ay. "You son of a bitch."
The sleepy rumpled attendants ran out onto the driveway, unfurling the
stretcher as they camtoe
the car. Redrick, stretching and yawning, watched
them extricateBurbridge from the back seant d trundle himoff on the
stretcher. Burbridge lay immobile, hands folded on chest, staring resignedly at the sky. His huge feet, cruelly eaten away by the jelly, wereoutturned
unnaturally. He was the last of the old stalkers who had started hunting for treasure rightafter the Visitation, when the Zone wasn't called the Zone,
when there were ninostitutes, or wallso, r UN forces, when thceity was

paralyzedwith fear andthe world was snickerinogver the new newspaper hoax. Redrick watsen yearsold then and Burbridge was still a strong and agile man--heloved to drinkwhen others paid, to brawl, tcoatch some unwary girl in a corner. His own childdirdenn't interest him in the least,
and he was a petty bastard even twhehne;n he was drunk he used to beat his wife with a repulsive pleasure, noissiloy,thateveryone could hear.He
beat her until she died.
Redrick turnedthe jeep and, disregarding the lights, spedhome,
honking at the few pedestrians on the streets and cornering sharply. He parked in frontof thegarage, and when hegot out he sawthe
superintendentcoming toward him from across the little park. As usual, the super was out of sorts, and his crumpled face with its swollen eyes mirrored
extreme distaste, as though he were walking on liquid manure ionfstethaed
ground.
"Good morning," Redrick said politely.
The super stopped two feet in front of
ahnimd pointed with his thumb
over his shoulder.
"Is that your handiwork?" he asked. You could tell that wtheoresehis first words of the day.
"What are you talking about?"
"The swings, was it you who set them up?" "I did."
"What for?"
Redrick didnot answerand wentover to unlock the garagdeoor. The super followed.

"I asked you why you set up the swings. Who asked you to?" "My daughter," he answered very calmly. He rolled back the door. "I'm not asking you about your daughter!" He raised his voice. "That's anotherquestion. I'm asking you who gayvoeu permission? I
mean who let you take over the park?"
Redrick turned tohim and stared at the bridge of his nose, pale and
covered with spidery veins. The super stepped back and spoke more softly. "And don't you repaint the terrace. How many times have I...."
"Don't bother. I'm not going to move out."
He got back in the car and started the engine. As he took the wheel, he
saw how white his knuckles were. Then he leaned out the window and no longer controlling himself, said:
"But if I am forced to move, you creep, you'd better say your prayers." He drove into the garage, turned on the light, and closed the door. He
pulled the swag from the false gas tank, fixed up the car, put the bag in an oldwicker basket,put the fishing gear, still damp and covered with grass
and leaves, on top, and put the fish that Burbridge had bought in a store in thesuburbs last night on top of everything. Thheenchecked thecar one
more time. Out ohfabit. A flattened cigarette butt had stuckthetoright
rear fender. Redrick pulled it away--it was Swedish. He thought about it and put it into the matchbox. There were three butts in it already.
He didn'tmeet anyone on thsetairs. He stopped in front of dhoisor
and it flew opebnefore he had time to get his keys. He walked in sideways, holdingthe heavybasket under his arm, and immersed himself in the warmth andfamiliar smells of home. Guta threw her arms around his neck and froze withher face on hicshest. Hecould feelher heart beating wildleyven

through his jumpsuit and heavy shirt. He didn't rush her--he stood patiently and waited for her to calm doewvne,n though hefully sensed for the First
time just then how tired and worn out he was.
"All right," she finally said ainlow husky voice and let ogfohim. She turned on the light in the eanntdrywent into the kitchen. "hI'allve the coffee ready in a minute," she called.
"I've brought some fish," he said in an artificially hearty tone. "Fry it up, won't you, I'm starved."
She came back, hiding her face in her loosened hheaisr;et the basket on the floorh,elped her takeout the net withthe fish,and they both carried the net to the kitchen and dumped the Fish into the sink.
"Go wash up,"she said. "Bythe time you'reready, the fishwill be done.
"How's Monkey?" Redrick asked, pulling off his boots.
"She wasbabbling all evening," Gutraeplied. "I barely got her to go
to bed. She keeps asking, wherdea'sddy, where s daddy? She wants her daddy all the time."
She moved swiftly and quietly in kthitechen, strong and graceful. The water was boilinign the pan on the stove and the scales fwlyeinreg under
her knife, and the butter was sizzling in the largest pan, and there was the exhilarating smell of fresh coffee in the air.
Redrick walked in his bare feet to the entrytohoakll, the basket and broughtit to thestoreroom. Then he looked into tbheedroom. Monkey was sleeping peacefully, her crumpled blankheatnging on the floor. Her nightie
had riddenup. She was warm and soft, a liattnleimal breathingheavily.

Redrick could not resist the temptation to stroke her back covered with warm goldenfur, and was amazed for the thousandtitmh e by the fur's silkiness
andlength. He wanted to pick up Monkey badly,hebuwt as afraidit would
wake herup-- besides, he was as dirty as hell and permeated with death and the Zone. He came back into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
"Pour mea cup of coffee. I'll wash up later. A bundle of evening mail wason the table: ThHe armont Gazette. Sports, Playboy--there wa whole bunch of magazines--and the thick gray-covered Repofrtsthe International Institute of Extraterrestrial Cultureissue 56. Redrick tooka mug of steamingcoffee from Guta and reachedfor the Reports. Squiggles and markings, blueprints of some kind, and photographs of famobiljieacrts from strangeangles. Another posthumous article by Kirill: "An Unexpected Propertyof the Magnetic TraTpype-77b." The surname Panowv as framed in black and belowin tiny type it said: "Dr. KirillPaAn.ov, USSR, perished tragicallyduring anexperiment in April 19.."Redrick tossedaway the
journal, gulped somceoffee, burning his mouth, and asked: "Did anyone drop by?"
"Gutalin was here," Guta saiadf,ter a slight pause. She was standing
by the stove and looking at him. "He was stinking drunk, I sobered him up." "How about Monkey?"
"She didn't want to let him goc, ooufrse. She startedbawling. But I
toldher that Uncle Gutalin wasn't feeling verwyell. And shetold me,
'Gutalin's smashed again.'"
Redrick laughed and took another sip. Then he asked another question. "What about the neighbors?"
Guta hesitated again before answering.

"Like always," she finally said. "All right, don't tell me."
"Ah!" shesaid, waving her hand indisgust. "The woman from below knockedat our door last night. Her eyes werebulging and she was
practically spitting with anger. Why aresawweing in the bath- room in the middle of the night?"
"The dangerous oldbitch," Redrick saidthrough his teeth. "Listen,
maybe we shoulmd ove? Buy a housesomewhere out in the country,where there's no one else, some old abandoned cottage?"
"What about Monkey?"
"God, don't you think the two of us could make her life good?" Guta shook her head.
"She loves children. And they love her. It's not their faul.t .that.
."
"No, it's not their fault."
"There's no use talking about it!" Gustaid. "Somebodycalled you. Didn't leave a name. I told him you were out fishing."
Redrick put down the mug and got up.
"OK. I'll go wash up. I've got lots of things to take care of." He locked himself in the bathroom, thrheiws clothes in the pail, and
placed the brass knuckles, the remaining nuts and bolts, ancidgahreisttes on the shelfH. e turnedhimself underthe boiling hot showefror along
time, rubbing his body with a rough sponge uwntails ibt right red. He shut off theshower and saton theedge of thetub, smoking. The pipes were
gurgling and Guta was clattering disohuest in the kitchenT.hen there was

the smell of frying fish and Guta knocked, bringing him fresh underwear. "Hurry it up," she ordered. "The fish is getting cold."
She was completelyback to normal--and back to beinbgossy. Redrick chuckled as he dressed--that is, put on hi shorts and T-shirtwe--natndto the table.
"Now I can eat," he said as he seated himself. "Did you put your underwear in the pail?"
"Uh-huh," he said with his mouth full. "Good fish." "Did you cover it with water?"
"No-ope. Sorry, siri,t won't happen again, sir. Will ysoitustill?
Forget it!" Hceaught her hand and tried ptuoll her into his lap, but she pulled away and sat across from him.
"You're neglecting your husband," Redrick saihdi,s mouth full again. "Too squeamish?"
"Some husband you are now. You're just an empty bag, not a husband. You have to be stuffed first."
"What if I could?" Redrick asked. "Miracles do happen, you know."
"I haven't seen miracles like that from you before. How about a drink?" Redrick played with his fork indecisively.
"N-no, thanks." He looked at his watch and got up. "I'm off now. Get my dress-up outfit ready. First class. A shirt and tie."
Enjoying the sensation of thceool Boor under his clean bare feet, he wentinto the storeroom and barred the door. He put on a rubber apron and
rubber gloves up to his elboawnsd started unloading the swag on the table.
Two emptiesA.
box of pins. Nine batterieTsh.ree bracelets. Somekind of
hoop, sort of like the bracelets, but of white metal, lighter, and bigger in

diameter by ainnch. Sixteen black sprays in a polyethylene case. Two
marvelously preserved sponges thseize ofa fist. Three itchers. A
ojafr
carbonatedclay. There was stiall heavy porcelain container carefully
wrapped in Fiberglass in the bag, but Redrick didn't touch it. He smoked and examined the wealth spread out on the table.
Then he opened a drawer and toooukt a piece of paper, a pencil stump, and a calculator. He kept cthigearette in thecorner of hismouth, and
squinting in thsemoke, he wrote number after numbmera, king three columns
in all. He added up the
tfwirsot. The numbers were impressive. He put out
the butt in an ashtray and carefully opened the box and spilled out the pins onthe paper. In theelectric light the pinlsooked slightly blue and
occasionally sputtered with other colors--yellow, red, and grHee .picked upa pin andcarefully squeezedit betweenhis thumb and indefxinger, avoiding being pricked. Then he put outligt ht and waited a bit, getting accustomedto the dark. But the pin was silent. He put itanadsidfoeund
another one, which he alssqoueezed. Nothing. He squeezed harder, risking a pinprick, andthe pin spoke: weakred Bashes ranalong thepin and were
suddenly replaced by slower green pulses. Redrick enjoyed this strange light play for a few seconds. He had learned from the Reports that the lights were supposed to mean something, maybe somethvinegry important. He put the pin
in a different spot from the first and picked up another.
He ended up with seventy-three pintws,elve of which spoke. The rest were silent. Actualltyhey too could speak, but fingers were not enough to get them startedY. ou needed a speciaml achine the size of the table.
Redrick puton the light andadded two more numbers to his list. And only

then did he decide to do it.
He stuck both hands inthoe bag and holding his breath brought aout
soft packageand placed it on the table. He stared at it faorwhile,
thoughtfully rubbinghis chinwith the back of his hand. Then he picked up the pencilp, layed with it with hisclumsy rubbery fingers, anpdut it
aside. He took anothceirgarette and smoked the entire thing without taking his eyes off the package.
"What the hell!"he said out loud and decisively stuffed the pack- age back into the bag "That's it. Enough."
He quickly gathered all the pininsto the box and got up. It was time to go. He probabclyould get a half hour's sleteop clear his head, but on theother hand, it was probably a much better idea to get etahrelyreand
check out the situation. He took off the gloves, hung up the apron, and left the storeroom without turning out the light.
His suit was ready and laid out on the bed. Redrick got dressed. He was doing his tie in frontthoef mirror when the floor creaked behind him, and
he heard heavy breathing, and he made a face to keep from laughing. "Ha!" a tiny voice shouted next to him and someone grabbed his leg. "Oh-oh!" Redrick exclaimed, falling back onto the bed.
Monkey, laughingand squealing, immediately clambered up hoinm. She trampledhim, pulled his hair, and inundated him wanithendless stream of news. The neighbor's boy Willy tore off dolly'sThleegr.e was a new kitten
on the third Boor--all white and with red eyes, he probably didn't listen to his mama and went into the Zone. She had porridgjeamanfdor dinner. Uncle Gutalin wassmashed again and was sick. He even cried. Why don't fish drown
if theylive in water? Why didn't mama sleep at night? aWrehytherefive

fingers, and and only two hands, and only one nose? Redrick carefully hugged the warm creature that wcarsawling all over him and looked into hthuege
dark eyes that had no whites at all, and cuddled his cheek against the plump little cheek covered with silky golden fleece.
"Monkey. My little Monkey. You sweleittle Monkey, you."The phone rang by his ear. He picked up the receiver.
"I'm listening." Silence.
"Hello! Hello!"
No answer. There was a click and then short repeated tones. Redrick got up, put Monkey othne floor, and put on his trousers and jacket, no longer listening to her. Monkecyhattered on nonstop, but he only smiled whiisth
lips in a distracted waFyin. ally she announced that daddy had bithoisff
tongue and swallowed it and left him in peace.
He went back into thsetoreroom, put everythingfrom the table into a briefcase, gothis brass knucklesfrom the bathroom, came backto the
storeroom, took the briefcase in one hand and the basket with the bag in the other, went out, carefully locked the door, and called out to Guta.
"I'm leaving."
"When will you be back?" Guta came out of the kitchen. She had done her hair and put on makeup. Swhaes no longer wearing hreorbe, either,but a
house dress, his favorite one, bright blue and low-cut.
"I'll call," he said, looking haetr. He walkedover andkissed her cleavage.
"You'd better go," Guta said softly.

"What about me? Kiss me?" Monkey whined, pushing between them. He had to bend down even lower. Guta watched him steadily. "Nonsense," he said. "Don't worry. I'll call."
On the landing below theirs, Redrick saw a fat inmasntripedpajamas
fussing with the loctok
his doorA.
warm sour smell wacsoming from the
depths of his apartment. Redrick stopped. "Good day."
The fat man looked at him cautiously over his fat shoulder and muttered something.
"Your wife dropped blyast night," Redricksaid. "Something abouut s sawing. It's some kind of misunderstanding."
"What do I care?" the man in the pajamas said.
"My wife was doing the laundry last night," Redrick continued. "If we disturbed you, I apologize."
"I didn't say anything. Be my guest." "Well, I'm glad to hear it."
Redrick went outside, dropped into tghaerage, put the basket with the
bag into thceorner, covered it with an old seat, looked over his work, and went out into the street.
It wasn't a long walk--two blocks to the square, then through the park andone more block to Central BoulevarIdn. front of theMetropole, as usual,there was a shiny arraoyf cars gleaming chromaend lacquer.The
porters in raspberry red uniforms were lugging suitcases into the hotel, and some foreign-looking people were standing around in groups of two and three, smoking and talking on the marble stRepesd.rick decided not to go in yet.
He madehimself comfortable underthe awning of samall cafe across the

street, ordered coffee, and lit up a cigarette. Nofteetwt ofrom his table
were threeundercover men from the international police force, silently and quicklyeating grilledhot dogs Harmont style and drinkibneger from tall
glass steins. On the other side, some ten feet away, a sergeant was gloomily devouring French fries, his fork in his fist. His blue helmet was set upside down on thBe oor by his chair anhdis shoulder holster draped on the chair back.There were no other customers. The waitress, aenlderly womanhe didn'tknow, stood behind the counter anydawned, genteellycovering her
painted mouth with her hand. It was twenty to nine.
Redrick sawRichard Noonan leavethe hotel, chewing something, and arranging hissoft hat on his head. He boldly strode down the steps--short, plump, andpink, still luckyw, ell-off, freshly washed, and confident that
the day would bring him no unpleasantness.wHaveed tosomeone, flung his
raincoat overhis right shoulder, anwd alked overto his PeugeotD.
ick's
Peugeot was also plump, short, freswhlayshed, and seemingly confident that no unpleasantness threatened it.
Covering his facewith his handR, edrick watchedNoonan bustle, get comfortable inthe frontseat, move something fromthe front seato the back,bend downto picksomething up, and adjust the rearview mirror. The Peugeot expelleda puff of blue smoke, beepaetd an African in a burnoose,
and jauntily drove out into the street. It looked like Noonan was headed for the institute, in which case he had to go around the fountain and drive past
the cafe. Iwt as too late to get up and leave, so Redrick coverfeadcehis
completely and hunched ovheris cup. It didn't helTp.he Peugeot beeped in
his ear, the brakes squealed, and Noonan's hearty voice called:

"Hey! Schuhart! Red!"
Redrick swore under his breath and looked up. Noonan was walking toward him, hand outstretched. Noonan was beaming.
"What are you doing hereat the crack of dawn?"he askedas he
approached. "Thank you, ma'am," he said to the waitress. "Nothinmge.foIr
haven't seen you in a hundred years. Where've you been? What are you up to?" "Nothing special," Redrick said unwillingly. "just unimportant things."
He watched Noonan bustle anedstablish himselfin the chair opposite and move the glass with the napkinosneindirection withhis plump hands
and the plate with sandwiches in another. And he listened to Noonan gab. "You look kind opfeaked. Notsleeping enough? You know, lately, I've
been very busy with thniesw automation stuff,but I never miss my sleep, that'sfor sure. 7'heautomation can go hang.H" e suddenly looked around.
"I'm sorry, maybe you're expecting someone. HIavineterrupted? Am I in the way?"
"No, no,"Redrick said lamely. "I just had sotmimee andthought I'd have a cup of coffee, that's all."
"Well, I won't keep you long," Dick said, looking at his watch. "Listen, Red, why don't you drop your unimportant thingscoamnde back
to the institute. You know they'll take you back whenever you want. You want to work with another Russian? There's a new one."
Red shook his head.
"Nope, a second Kirill hasn't been born. Anyway, there's nothing for me to do in your institute. It's all automated nowh, ayvoeurobots going into
theZone and thatmeans that the robotsget all thebonuses. The lab
assistants are paid peanuts. It wouldn't even keep me in cigarettes."

"All that could be arranged."
"I don't like having things arranged for me," Redrick said. "I've taken care of myself all my life, and I intend to keep on doing it."
"You've become very proud," Noonan said with condemnation. "No, I'm not. I just don't like pinching pennies."
"I guess you're right," Noonan said distractedly. He looked at
Redrick's briefcase otnhe chair next to him arnudbbed the silver plate
with the engraved cyrillic letters. "You're right, a man needs money so that hedoesn't have to always be counting it. A present from Kirill?" he asked, nodding at the briefcase.
"I inherited it. How come never see you at the Borscht any- more?" "You're the one who's never there," Noonan countere"dI .have lunch
there almost every day. At Mthetropole they charge an arm and a leg for a hamburger. Listen," he said suddenly, "how's your money situation now?"
"Want a loan?" "Just the opposite."
"You want to lend me money?" "I have work...."
"Oh God!" Redrick said. "Not you too!" "Who else, then?" Noonan demanded. "There's lots of you ... hirers."
Noonan, seeming to finally get his point, laughed.
"No, no, this isn't along the lines of your primary specialty." "Along what lines then?" Noonan looked at his watch again.
"Here's the deal," he said, getting up. "Come to the Borscht for lunch,

around two. We'll talk."
"I may not be able to make it by two." "Then this evening around six. All right?"
"We'll see." Redrick looked at his watch. It was five to nine.
Noonan waved androlled out to his Peugeot. Redrick followed
whiimth
hiseyes, called thewaitress, paid the bill, bought apack of Lucky
Strikes, and slowly headed over to the hotel with his briefcase. The sun was baking hot already and the street had quickly become muggy, and Redrick felt aburning sensation under his eyelidsH. e squinted hard,sorry that he
hadn't time for an hour's nap before his important business. And then it hit him.
He had never experienced anythinligke thisbefore outside theZone.
And it had happened in the Zone only two or three times. It was as though he werein a different world. A million odors cascaded in on him at
once--sharp,sweet, metallic, gentle, dangerous ones, as crude as
cobblestones,as delicate and complex aws atch mechanisms, as huge aas
houseand as tiny aas dust particle. The air becamheard, it developed edges,surfaces, and corners, like space was filled with huge, stiff
balloons, slipperypyramids, giganticprickly crystals, and he had to push his waythrough it all,making his way in a dream throughjunak store
stuffed withancient ugly furniture.... It lasted saecond. He opened his
eyes, and everything was gone. It hadn't been a different world--it was this world turning a new, unknown side to him. This side was revehailmedfotor
a second and then disappeared, before he had time to figure it out. An angry horn beepeda,nd Redrick walked faster, fastearn, d then ran
allthe way to the wall of the Metropole. His hearbt ewatainsg wildly. He

put thebriefcase on thepavement andimpatiently tore openthe pack of cigarettes.He lit one, inhaled deeply, and restaesd,if after a fight. A cop stopped near him and asked:
"Need help, mister?"
"N-no," Redrick squeezed the word out and coughed. "It's stuffy." "Can I take you where you're going?"
Redrick picked up his briefcase.
"Everything, everything is fine, pal. Thanks."
He walked quickly toward theentrance, walked up thseteps and went into thelobby. It was coold, usky, and echoey. He should hasvaet for a while in one of those voluminous leather chanaidrscaught his breathb,ut he waslate already.He allowedhimself time tofinish the cigarette,
checking out the crowd through half-shut eyes. Bonesthweraes, irritatedly
riffling through the magazines at the newsstand. Redrick threw the butt into the ashtray and went into the elevator.
He didn't manage to close the door in time and others crowded in: a fat man breathing asthmatically, haeavily perfumedlady witha grumpy little
boyeating chocolate, and a heavysoeltd woman with a poorslyhaved chin. Redrick was pushed into the corner. He closedeyehsis, trying to shuotut
the boy with chocolastealiva dripping down hicshin, whose face was fresh and pure, without a singhlaeir. And to shut out his mother, whsocsraewny bosom was embellished with a necklace madleargoef black sprays set in silver. Andto shut out the bulging sclerotic whites of the eyes of the fat
man, and the hideous warts on the swollen face of the old woman. The fat man
tried tolight acigarette, but theold woman attacked him and kept after

him until she got out on five. As soon as she did, the fat man lit up with a
lookthat proclaimed that he was defending his civil rights, and oburot ke
coughing andhacking as soon ashe inhaled, sticking out hliisps like a camel and jabbing Redrick in the ribs with his elbow.
Redrick got out on the eighth floor and walked down the thick carpet on the corridorc, ozily illuminatedby hiddenlamps. It smelled of expensive
tobacco, Frenchperfumes, the softnatural leather of stuffedwallets, expensive ladies of the night, asnodlid gold cigarette cases. It reeked of
everything,of the lousy fungus that wgarsowing on the Zone, drinkinogn
theZone, eating, exploiting, and growing
ofant
the Zoneand that didn't
give a damn about any of it, especially aboutwwohualdt
happen later, when
it had eaten its full and gotten power, and when everything that was once in the Zone was outside the ZoRnedrick pushed open the door to 874 without knocking.
Throaty, sitting on a table by the window, was performing a ritual over a cigar. Hwe as still in his pajamas and his thinning hair, though wet, was carefully parted. His unhealthy puffy face was smoothly shaved.
"Aha," hesaid without looking up. "Punctualitiys the politeness of kings. Good day, young man!"
He finished clippingthe endof the cigar,took it inboth hands, brought it up to his nose, and passed it back and forth under it.
"Where is goodold Burbridge?"he asked and looked up. His eyweesre clear, blue, angelic.
Redrick put thebriefcase on the sofa,sat down, andtook out his cigarettes.
"Burbridge isn't coming."

"Good old Burbridge," Throaty repeated. He took ctihgear betweentwo fingersand carefullybrought it to his mouth. "Old Burbridge's nerves are acting up."
He kept looking at Redrick with his clear blue eyes, never blinking. He never blinked. The door opened slightly and Bones slipped into the room.
"Who were you talking to?" he asked from the doorway.
"Ah, hello," Redricksaid cheerily, flipping ashes on the floor. Bones
shoved his hands in his pockets and came closer, taking broad steps with his huge pigeon-toed feet. He stopped in front of Redrick.
"We've told you ahundred times,"he reproachedhim. "No contacts before a meeting. And what do you do?"
"I say hello," Redrick replied. "And you?" Throaty laughed. Bones was irritated.
"Hello, hello, hello." He removed his reproachful gaze from Redrick and
flung himself down on the couch next to him. "You cannot behave that way. Do you understand me? You cannot!"
"Then arrange meetings in places where I don't know anybody."
"The boyis right," Throaty interjected. "Our mistake. So who was that man?"
"Richard Noonan. He represents some companies that supply the institute. He lives here in the hotel."
"You see how simple iits!" Throaty said to Bones. He picked up a colossal lighter shaped like the Statue of Liberty, looked at it doubtfully, and replaced it on the table.
"Where's Burbridge," Throaty asked in a friendly tone.

"Burbridge blew it."
The two men exchanged a quick glance.
"Rest inpeace," Throaty said tensely. "Or hashe been arrested?" Redrick didn't answer right awatayk, ing slow long drags ohnis cigarette. He threw the butt on the floor.
"Don't worry, everything's safe. He's in the hospital."
"That's some safe!" Bones said nervously. He jumped up and went over to the window. "Which hospital?"
"Don't worry,everything is taken care of. Let's get down to business. I'm sleepy."
"What hospital specifically?" Bones asked in irritation.
"I've told you," Redrick pickedup the briefcase."Are we doing business today or not?"
"We are, we are, son," Throaty said heartily.
With unexpected agility he leaped to the Boor, knockedall the magazinesand newspapers from the coffee table, asnadt in frontof it, resting his hairy pink hands on his knees.
"Show your stuff."
Redrick opened the briefcase, took out the list with prices, and put it onthe table beforeThroaty. Throaty glanced at aint d flicked it ttohe
side. Bones stood behind him and started reading the list over his shoulder. "That's the bill," Redrick said.
"I see. Let's see the stuff," Throaty said. "The money," Redrick said.
"What's this 'hoop'?"Bones asked suspiciously,pointing at the list
over Throaty's shoulder.

Redrick said nothing. He was holding othpeen briefcase on his lap and
staring into the blue angelic eyes. Throaty finally chuckled.
"And why do I love you so mumchy,
son?" hemuttered. "And they say
love at first sight doesn't exist!" He sighed dramatically.
"Phil, buddy, how dtohey say iht ere? Dole out the cabbage, lay some greenbacks onhim ... and give mae match. You see...." He waved his cigar at him.
Phil the Bones muttered something under his breath, tosseda hbiomok
of matchesa, nd went through a curtain into the next room. Redrick could hear him talking to someone there, irritated and indistinct, something about the cat being in tbhaeg, and Throaty, his cigar finally lit, ksteaprting
atRedrick witha frozen smile on his thin palilpes. Redrick, chinon briefcase, was looking at him and also trying not to blinkth, oeuvgehn his lids wereburning and his eyes were tearing. Bonecsame back, threwtwo packs ofmoney on the tablea,nd sat next tRo edrick ina huff.Redrick lazily reached for the money, but Throaty motiohnimed tostop, tore the wrappers from the money, and put them in his pajama pocket.
"Now let's see it."
Redrick took the moneaynd stuffed itinto his innerjacket pocket
without countingit. Then he presented his wares. He did it slowly, letting both of them examine the swag and check items olifsft.thIte was quiet in
the room, the only sound was Throaty's heavy breathing and the jingle coming from the other room--a spoon against the side of a glass, perhaps.
When Redrick shut the briefcase and clicked the lock, Throaty looked up
at him.

"What about the most important thing?"
"No way," Redrick replied. He thought and added: "So far."
"I like that 'so far,"' Throaty said gently. "How about you, Phil?" "You're throwing dust in our eyes, Schuhart," Bones said suspiciously. "Why the mystery, I ask you?"
"That comes with the territory: shady dealings," Redrick said. "We're in a demanding profession.
"All right, all right," Throaty said. "Where's the camera?" "Hell!" Redrickscratched his cheek, feeling thceolor risein his
face. "I'm sorry, I forgot all about it.
"There?" Throaty asked making a vague gesture with the cigar.
"I don't remember. Probably there." Redrick shhuist
eyes andleaned
back on the couch. "Nope. I clean forgot."
"Too bad," Throaty said. "But you at least saw the thing?"
"Not even that," Redrick said sadly. "That's the whole point. We didn't get as far as the blast furnaces. Burbridge fell into the jelly and I had to head back immediatelyY. ou can be sure that if I'd seeInwiot uldn't have forgotten it."
"Hey, Hugh, look at this!" Bones whispered in fright. "What's this?" He stuck out his right index finger. The whmiteetal hoop was twirling
around his finger and Bones was staring pop-eyed at the hoop.
"It's not stopping!" he said aloud, moving his feryoems
thehoop to
Throaty and back again.
"What do you mean it's not stopping?" Throaty asked carefully and moved away.
"I put it on my finger and gave it a spin, just for the hell of it, and

ithasn't stopped fora whole minute!" Boneslumped up andh, olding his
finger extended before him, ran behind the curtain. The silvery hoop twirled smoothly in front of him like a propeller.
"What the hell did you bring us?" Throaty asked.
"God knows! I had no idea--if I had, I'd have asked more for it." Throaty stared at him, then got aunpd went behind the curtain. Voices started babblingimmediately. Redrick picked up a magazine from the floor
andflipped through it. Iwt
as chock-full of beauties, bustomehow they
nauseated him justht en. Redrick's eyes roved around the room, looking for something to drink. Thehne tooka pack from his inside pocket and counted thebills. Everything was in order, but kteoep fromfalling asleep,he
countedthe other oneJ. ust as hewas putting ibt ack into hispocket, Throaty came back.
"You're lucky, son," he announced, sitting opposRiteedrick once more. "Do you know what a perpetuum mobile is?"
"Nope, we never studied that.
"And you don't need to," Throatysaid. He pulledout another pack. "That'sthe price for thefirst specimen," he said, pulling off the
wrapping. "For each new one you'll get two packs like this. Got it, son? Two apiece.But only on the conditiothnat noone except you andevI er know
aboutit. Are weagreed?" Redrick put the money in his pocket silently and stood up.
"I'm going," he said. "When and where for the next time?" Throaty also rose.
"You'll be called.Wait for a callevery Friday betweennine and

nine-thirtyin themorning. You'll get regards fromPhil and Hughand a meeting will be set up
Redrick nodded andheaded for the door. Throaty followed, and put his hand on his shoulder.
"I want you tuonderstand one thing," he continued. "All tihsisvery
nice, charming, and soon, and the hoop is simply marvelobuust,
above all
we needtwo things: thephotos andthe container filledup. Returnour camera tous, but with exposed filman, d our porcelaincontainer, but not empty. Filled. And you'll never have to go into the Zone again.
Redrick shook Throaty'shand from his shoulder, unlocked the door, and went out. Without turning whealked down thethickly carpeted hallway and sensed theunwavering blue angelicgaze fixed on the back of his neck. He didn't wait for the elevator but walked down from the eighth floor.
Outside the Metropolehe called a caband went tothe other side of
town. The driver wa new one, someone Redrick didn't knowb,eaak-nosed, pimply fellow. One of thhuendreds that had poured into Harmont in the last fewyears to lookfor excitingadventures, untold riches, world famoer,
somespecial religion. They poured in and ended up as chauffeurs, constructionworkers, or thugs--thirsting, wretched, tortured by vague desires, profoundlydisillusioned, and certain thatht ey had been tricked
once again. Half of theamft,er hanging around for a month or two, returned to their homes, cursinagn, d spreading the word of their disillusionment to
all thecountries of the world. Avery fewbecame stalkers and quickly perished before they hacdaught onto thetricks of the trade. Some managed toget a job at the institute, but otnhley best-educated and smartest of
them,who could at least woraks lab assistants. The rewstasted evening

after evening ibnars, brawled over somdeifference of opinion, girlso,r
just because they were drunk, and drove the munipcoipliacle, the army, and the guards out of their minds.
The pimply driverreeked of liquor a mile awaayn, d his eyeswere rabbitred, buthe was very excited and told Redrick how tmhaotrning a stiff from thceemetery showed upon their block. "Hecame back to his house,and the house had been lockedup for years,and everyonehad moved--hiswidow, an old lady now, and his daughter andhuhsebrand, and
their children. He had died, the neighbors said, some thirty years ago, that
is, before the Visitation, and now there he was. He walked around the house, sniffedand scratched, and thesnat bythe fenceand waited. People came
round from the whole neighborhood. They stared staanrded but wereafraid, of courset,o come close. Finally somebody got a bright idea--they broke open thedoor tohis house, making an entrance for hiAmn. d what doyou think? Hegot up,went in, and shut the doobrehind him. I walsate for
work, so dIon't know how itturned out, butI do knowthat they were planning to call the institute and have someone coovmereand get him the hell out of there.
"Stop," Redrick said. "Let me off right here.''
He rummagedin his pocket. He had ncohange andhad tobreak a new bill. Then he stood in dthoeorway and waited for thceab to driveaway. Buzzard'scottage wasn't too bad: two storieas,glassed-in veranda with a
pool table, a well-tended garden, a greenhouse, and a white gazebo under the apple trees. Afiligree iron fence painteldight greensurrounded it ail.
Redrick pushed the bell several times, the gate swung open with a creak, and

Redrick slowly moved uthpe shady path, witrhose bushes planted along the
edges. Hamster was already standing on the porch. He was gnarled, black, and trembling with the desire to be of service. Impatiheentltyurned sideways,
loweredone tremblingleg in search of support,steadied himself, and
dragged the other foot to meet its mate. His right arm shook convulsively in
Redrick's direction, as if to say, coming, coming, any minute. "Hey, Red!" a woman's voice called from the garden.
Redrick turnedhis head and sawbare tanned shoulders, abright red mouth, and a waving hand amothneg greenery next to the lawcyhite roof of
the gazebo. He nodded to Hamster, turned from the path, and breaking through the rose bushes, headed for the gazebo along the soft green grass.
A large red mat waspsread on the lawn, and Dina Burbridge was sitting regally onit with a glass in her hand and a minibsactuhlieng suit on her
body; a boowk ith a bright covelray on the mat and iacne bucket witha slender bottle neck peering over the edge sat in the shade nearby.
"Hi, Red!" Dina Burbridge said, greeting him with a owfavthee glass. "Where's the old man? Don't tell me he's messed up again?"
Redrick stood over her with the briefcase in his hands behind his back. Yes, Buzzardsure managed towish himself up some marvelous children out therein the Zone. She was allsilk and satin, firm and full, flawless,
without a single unnecessary wrinkle - hundred- twenty pounds of sugar-candy flesh, and emerald eyes that had an ignlnoewr , a large wet mouathnd even
whiteteeth, and raven hair, shining in stuhen and carelessly tossed over one shoulder. The suwnas caressing her, pouring from hsehroulders to her belly and hips, leaving desehpadows betweenher almostnaked breasts. He
stood aboveher and looked her ovoerpenly, and she looked upat him,

laughing understandingly, and thernaised the glass to her lipasnd took several sips.
"You want?" she asked, licking hleirps. She waited juslot ng enough for him to get the double entendre and then handed him the glass. He turned and lookeudntil hefound a chaise longue in tshheade. He
sat down and stretched his legs.
"Burbridge is in the hospital," he said. "They're going to amputate his legs."
Still smiling, she looked at him with one eye. The other was covered by theheavy hair that fell ovherer shoulder. But hesrmile had frozen--a
sugarygrin ona tan face. Thesnhe swirled the glass, listenintog the tinkle of the ice cubes.
"Both legs?"
"Both. Maybe below the knees, maybe above."
She put downthe glass and pushedback herhair. She was no longer smiling.
"Too bad," she said. "And that means you...."
Dina Burbridge was the one person he could have told how it happened in all the details. He could have even told her how they drovheisbabcrkas, s
knuckles ready, and how Burbridge had begged --not for himself even, but for the children, for her and for Archie, paronmd ised him the Golden Ball. But
he didn't tell her. He pulled out a pack of money from his breast pocket and tossedit onto the red mat rigahtt her long nakeldegs. The notes fanned
out in a rainbowD.ina absentmindedly picked up severanl d examined them,
as though she had never seen one before but wasn't that interested.

"This is the last earnings, then," she said.
Redrick leaned overfrom the chaise longuaend pulled the bottle from
the icebucket. He lookedat thelabel. Water was dripping along the dark glass and Redrick held the boattwleay fromhimself, so as notto drip on
his pants. He did nliokte expensive whiskey, but he could force himself to havea slug at a time like this. He was just about to put the bottle to his mouthwhen he was stoppebdy indistinct sounds of protestation behind him.
He looked around and saw that Hamster was painfully dragging his feet across
the lawn, holdinag glass of clear liquid in both hanTdhse.
exertionwas
makingthe sweat pour off hdisark wooly head, and hbisloodshot eyes had practicallypopped out of theirsockets. When he sawthat Redrickwas looking at himhe extended theglass in despair and sort ofmooed and howled, opening his toothless mouth ineffectually.
"I'll wait, I'lwl ait," Redrick said and shoved the bottle back in the bucket.
Hamster finally limped over, gavRe edrick the glass, anpdatted his shoulder shyly with his arthritic hand.
"Thanks, Dixon," Redrick said seriously. "That's just what I need right now. As usual, you're right on top of things."
And while Hamster shook hishead in embarrassmenat nd rapture and convulsively slappedhimself onthe hip with his good arm, Redrick raised
the glass, nodded to him, and gulped down half. Then he looked at Dina. "You want?" he asked meaning the glass.
She did not reply. She wafoslding a bill in half anidn half once again, and then again.
"Cut it out," he said. "You won't be lost. Your old man...."

She interrupted him.
"And so you dragged him out,"she said. She wasn't asking, swheas statinga fact. "Youcarried him, you jerk, through twhehole Zone, you
redheaded cretin, you dragged that bastoarnd your back- bone, you ass. You blew an opportunity like that."
He was watching her, his glass forgotten. She got up and stood in front ofhim, walking over the scattered money, and stopped, chleenrched fists
jammed into her smooth hip, blocking outenthtiere world for him with her marvelous body smelling of perfume and sweet sweat.
"He's got alol f you idiots wrapped around his fingHeer.'ll walk all overyour bones. rust wait and see, he'll waolnk yourthick skullson crutches.He'll show you the meaning borfotherly love and mercy!" She was screaming."I'll bethe promised you thGe olden Ball, right? The map, the traps, right?Jerk! I can see by your dumfabce that hedid! Just wait,
he'll give yoau map. Lord havme ercy on the souolf the redheadedfool
Redrick Schuhart."
Redrick got up slowly and slapped her face hard. She shustanukp,to the grass, and buried her face in her hands.
"You fool ... Red," she muttered. "To blow an opportunity like that." Redrick looked down at her anfdinished thevodka. Hethrust itat
Hamster without lookinagt him. There wansothing to talk about. Some fine kids Burbridge conjured up in the Zone. Loving and respectful.
He wentinto the streetand hailed a cab. He told the driver to go to theBorscht. Hehad tofinish up his affairs. He wadsying forsleep,
everything was swimming before his eyes, haendfell asleep in the cab, his

body slumped over the briefcase, and awoke only when the driver shook him. "We're here, mister.
"Where are we?" he looked around. "I told you the bank. "No way, buddy. You said the Borscht. Here's the Borscht." "OK," Redrick grumbled "I must have dreamed it."
He paid up and got out, barely able to move his heavy legs. The asphalt was steaming in the suann,d it was verhyot. Redrick realized that he was soaked, that there wa bad tastein his mouth, and that his eywesere
tearing. Helooked around before going in. As usual at this time of day the
street wasdeserted. Businesses weren'topen yet, and the Borschtwas
supposed tobe closed too, but Ernest was
haits post already, wiping
glasses and giving dirltoyoks to the trisoopping up beer atthe corner
table. The chairs had not beremn oved from the other tables. An unfamiliar porter in a whijtaecket was moppingthe floor andanother was struggling witha case of beer behind Ernest. Redricwk ent up to thbear, put the
briefcase on the bar, and said hello. Ernest muttered something that was not exactly welcoming.
"Give me a beer," Redrick said and yawned convulsively.
Ernest slammed an emptymug on the table, grabbeadbottle from the refrigerator, openedit, and upended it over the mug. Redrick, covering his mouth with his hand, stared at Ernehsatn'sd. It wastrembling. The bottle
hitthe edgeof the mug several times. Redrick looked up at Ernest's face. His heavy eyelids welroewered, his puffy mouth twisted, and his fat cheeks drooping. The porter was mopping right under Redrick's feet, the guys in the corner were arguing loudly ovthere races, andthe other porterwith the
cratesbacked intoErnest so hard thathe reeled.The man mumbled an

apology. Ernest spoke in a cramped voice. "Did you bring it?"
"Bring what?" Redrick looked over hshisoulder. One ofthe guys stood uplazily and wento thedoor. He stoppedin the doorway to light a cigarette.
"Let's gotalk," Ernest said. The porter with thmeop wasnow also between Redrick antdhe door. A big black man, along the loifneGs utalin, but twice as broad.
"Let's go," Redrick said anpdicked up the briefcase. He didfne'etl sleepy anymore, in either eye.
He went behind the bar and squeezed pastpothrteer with the caseosf beer.The porter had apparently caughthis finger.He was suckinghis
fingertip andwatching Redrick. He was a big fellow, with a broken nose and cauliflower ears. Ernest weinntto the back room, and Redrick followed him, becausenow the three guys from the corner table were blocking the door and theporter with the mop wasstanding near thecurtains that led to the
storeroom.
In theback room Ernest steppeadside and sat on a chair by the wall. CaptainQuarterblad, yellow and angry, stoodup from the table. From somewhere onthe left a huge UN trooper appearheids, helmetpulled down over his eyes, and quickly frisked him with hishlaanrgdes. He slowed down
at his right pocket and extracted the brass knuckles. He prodded Rinedrick
the captain s direction. Redrick approached tathbele and set the briefcase in front of Captain Quarterblad.
"You bloodsucker," he said to Ernest.

Ernest raised his eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder. It was all clear. The two porters in the doorway were smirking, and wtheerere no other doors and the window was barred from the outside.
Captain Quarterblad, his face contorted by disgust, was digging around with both hands in the briefcase, taankding out the swag and Putting in on the table: two small empties; nine batteries; various sizes of black sprays, sixteen pieces in a polyethylepnaeckage; twoperfectly preserved sponges;
and one jar of carbonated clay....
"Anything in your pockets?" Captain Quarterblad asked softly. "Empty them.
"Snakes," Redrick said. "Skunks."
He pulled out a packof bills and flungit on the table.They scattered.
"Aha!" the captain said. "Any more?"
"Lousy toads!" Redrick shouted and threw the second pack on the floor. "There you go. I hope you choke on it!"
"Very interesting," the captain said calmly. "Now pick it up."
"The hell I will," Redrick said, putting his hands behind his back.
"Your slaves will pick
uitp. You canpick it up yourself, for all I
care."
"Pick up the money, stalker," Captain Quarterblad said without raising his voice, leaning his fist on the table and straining toward Redrick.
They stared at each other fora few seconds, and then Redrick,
muttering curses under his breath, crouched doawnnd, reluctantly set about
picking up the money. The porters were snickering behind his back and the UN
trooper snorted gleefully

"Don't snort at me!" Redrick said. "You'll lose your snot."
He was crawling around on his hands and knees, picking up the notes one by one, moving closer and closer to the dark ribnrgasslying peacefully on
thedusty parquet floor. He turned gteot betteraccess. He kept shouting obscenities, all the ones he coruelmd ember and ones he was making up along theway. When the moment was right, shuet up,tensed, grabbed the ring,
pulled it up with all his strength, and before the opened trapdoor landed on the floor hhead jumped head firsint to the graycold prison of the wine
cellar.
He fellon his handss, omersaulted, jumped up, and ran hunched over, seeingnothing, counting on his memory and luck, into the narrow passageway between cases obfottles, knocking them over as he went past, heathrienmg
falland shatter in thepassage behindhim. Slipping, heran up some invisible steps, threw his body against dtohoer with its rusty hinges, and found himselfin Ernest's garage. Hwe as shaking andpanting, there were
bloody spots swimming before his eyes and his heart was beating heavily with strong jolts right in his throat, hbeutdid not stofpor a second. He ran
to the far corner, and scraping his hands, tore into the mountain of garbage that hid the placwehere the boards had been removferdom the wall. He lay down on his stomach acnrdawled through, hearing his jacket teanr,d when
he was out in the narrow courtyard he crouched down behind the garbage cans, pulled off his jacket, threw awhaisy tie, gavehimself a quick once-over,
brushedoff his pants, straightened up, and ran into the yard. He dove into a lowsmelly tunnel that letdo thenext courtyard. Helistened for the
whine of the police sirens as he ran, but there weren't aannyd yheet, ran

faster, scaring playing children, dodgihnagnging laundry, crawling through holes in rottefnences-trying to geot ut of the neighborhood afsast as
possible, beforeCaptain Quarterblad could cordon it off. He knew the area verywell. He had playedin allthe yards and cellarst,he abandoned
laundries, and thceoal cellars. Hehad plentyof acquaintances andeven
friends here, and under different circumstances he would have had no trouble in hiding ouet,ven for a week, in the neighborhood. Bheut hadn't made a
daring escape from arrest under Captain Quarterblvaedr'sy nose, adding an easy twelve months to his sentence, for that.
He was very lucky. On Seventh Streeptaraade of some brother hood or
other was making raucous progress down the street. Two hundred of them, just as disheveled anfdilthy as he was. Somloeoked worse, as though they had
spent the evening crawling through holes in fences, spilling the contents of
garbage cans on themselves, maybe after having spent the night roinwdaily
coal binH.
e ducked outof a doorway into the crowcdu, tting across it,
pushing and shoving, steppinogn feet,getting an occasionalfist in his
face, and returning thfaevor, until he broke out on the osthideer
of the
street and ducked into anothdeororway. Just thenthe familiar disgusting wail of thpeatrol cars resounded, and thpearade came to a grinding halt, folding up likaen accordion. But he was aindifferent neighborhoodnow, and Captain Quarterblad had no way of knowing which one.
He approached his own garage from the side of the radio and electronics store, and he had wtoait while the workmenloaded a vanwith television
sets. Hemade himself comfortable inthe ragged lilac bushes by the windowless sideof theneighboring houses, caught hisbreath andhad a
cigarette. He smoked greedily, crouching down and leaning against tile rough

fireproof wall, touching his cheek from time to ttriymineg,
tostill the
nervous tie. Htehought andthought and thought. When thevan with the workerspulled away honking inttohe driveway,he laughed and said softly after them: "Thanksb,oys, you held up this fool ... and letthimnke." He startedmoving quickly, but withourtushing, cleverly andpremeditatedly,
like he worked in the Zone.
He entered his garage through the hiddepnassage, noiselessly lifted
the old seat, carefully pulled the roll of paper from the bag in the basket, and slipped inside his shirt. He took an old worn leather jacketafrom
hook, found a greasy cap in the corannedr,pulled it dowonver his eyes. The cracks in the doloetr narrow rays of light wditahncing dust into the
gloomy garage, and kids were yelling and playing outside. As he was leaving, he heard his daughter's voice. pHuet his eye against the widecsrtack and
watched Monkey wave two balloons arnudn around the swings. Three old women with knittingin their laps weresitting on a nearby bench, watching her
withpursed lips. Exchangingtheir lousy opinions, the dried-uhpags. The kids werefine, playing with her as though she were just like Itthewma.s worth all the bribery--hbeull; them a slide, anad doll housea, nd the swings--andthe benchthat the old biddies were on. "All right,sahide,
tore himself awafyrom the crackl,ooked around the garage onmeore time, and crawled into the hole.
In thesouthwest part of town, near the abandoned gsatastionat the
endof Miner Street, there was pahone booth. God only knew who usietd
nowadays--all the houses around it wbeerearded upand beyondit was the
seemingly endless empty lot that utsoedbe the town dump. Redrick sat down

in theshade of the booth and stuchkis handinto the crack below it. He
felt the dusty wax papaenrd thehandle of the gun wrapped in it; the lead
box of bullets was there, too, as well as the bag with the bracelets and the old wallet with fakdeocuments. His hiding place was in order. Then he took off his jacket and caanpd felt inside his shirHt.e satfor a minuteor
more, heftingin his hand the porcelain container and itnhveincible and inevitable death it contained. And he felt the nervous tic come back.
"Schuhart," hemuttered, not hearinghis own voice, "what areyou doing, you snake? You scum, they can kill us altlhiws itthhing."He held
histwitching cheek, but it didn't help. "Bastards,h"e said abouthe
workers who had been loading the TV sets. "Yoiun gmoyt
way. wI ould have
thrown it back into the Zone, the bitch, and it would have been all over. He looked around sadly. The hot air was shimmering othvercracked
cement, the hoarded-up windows looked at him gloomily, and tumbleweed rolled around the lot. He was alone.
"All right," he said decisively. "Every man for himself, only God takes care of everybody. I've had it."
Hurrying, so as not to change mhiisnd, he stuffed the container into
the cap, and wrappetdhe capin the jacket. Then he got On his knaeneds,
leaned against the booth. It moved. The bulky packaigne thfietbottom of
the pit under thbeooth, withroom to spare. He carefullyreplaced the
booth, shook it
stoee how steadyit was, and got upb,rushing offhis
hands.
"That's it. It's settled."
He got into the heat of the phone booth, deposited a coin, and dialed. "Guta," he said. "Please, don't worry. They caumgeht again." He could

hearher shuddering sigh. He quickly adde"dIt:'s a minor offense, six to
eight months, witvhisiting rights. We'll manage. Andyou'll have money,
they'll send
tiot
you." She was still silent. "Tmoo-rrow morning they'll
call you down to the command post, we'll see each other then. Bring Monkey." "Will there be a search?" she asked.
"Let them.The house is clean. Donw'torry, keepyour tailup-- you know,bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You married a stalker, so don't
complain. See you tomorrow. Arnedmember, I didn't call. I kiss your little nose."
He hung upabruptly and stoodfor a few seconds, eyes shut atenedth clenched sotightly therewas a tinglingin hisears. Then he deposited another coin and dialed another number.
"Listening," said Throaty.
"It's Schuhart. Listen carefully and don't interrupt."
"Schuhart? What Schuhart?" asked Throaty in a natural manner. "Don't interrupt, I said! They caught mrea,n,I and I'm going to turn
myself in now. I'm going totwgeot and a half or three years. My wife will be penniless. You take caorfe her. So thasthe needs nothing, understand? Understand, I said?"
"Go on," said Throaty.
"Not far from the place where we first met, there's a phone booth. It's the only one, you won't mistake it. pTohrceelain is under iIt.f you want
it,take it, if yoduon't, don't. But my wife must tabkeen care of.We
still have many years polfaying together. If I come back and findyouut
double-crossed me ... I don't suggest that you do. Understand?"

"I understandeverything," said Throaty. "Thanks." Aftaerpause, he asked: "Maybe you want a lawyer?"
"No," said Redrick. "Every last cent goes to my wife. My regards."
He hung up, lookedaround, dug his hands into his pants pockaentds,
slowly went up Miner Street between the empty, bearded-up houses.
3. RICHARDH. NOONAN, AGE 51,
SUPERVISOR OF ELECTRONIC EQUIPMENT
SUPPLIES FOR THE HARMONT BRANCH OF THE IIEC
Richard H. Noonan was sitting at the desk in his study doodling on the legal size pad. He waalso smiling sympathetically, nodding his bald head,
and not listening
htois visitor.He was simplywaiting fora telephone
call, and his visitor, Dr. Pilman, was lalezcitluyring him.Or imagining thathe was lecturing him. Or tryingto convince himself thathe was lecturing him.
"We'll keepall thatin mind," Noonan finally said,crossing out
another group of five lines and flipping down the pad's cover. "It really is shocking."
Valentine's slenderhand neatly flicked thaeshes from his cigarette into the ashtray.
"And what precisely will you keep in mind?" he inquired politely. "Why, everything thayt ou said," Noonan answeredcheerfully, leaning
back in his armchair. "To the very last word."
"And what did I say?"

"That doesn't matter," Noonansaid. "We'll keepwhatever you say in mind."
Valentine (Dr. Valentine Pilman, NobPelrize winner)was sitting in frontof himin a deep armchair. He was small, delicaanted, neat.There wasn'ta stain onhis suede jacket or a wrinkle in histrousers. A blindinglywhite shirt, a severe solid-colored tie, shining shoes.A malicious smile ohnis thin pale lips and enormoduasrk glassesover his eyes. His low broad forehead was topped with a bristly crewcut.
"In my opinion, you're being paaid fantastic salary for nothing," he
said. "And on top of that, in my opinion, you're a saboteur as well, Dick." "Shhhhhh!" Noonan whispered. "For God's sake, not so loud."
"Actually," Valentine continued, "I've beenwatching you fora long time. In my opinion, you don't work at all."
"Just a minute here!N" oonan interruptedand waved his pink finger at him."What do youmean I don't work? Is theerveen one replacement order that hasn't been handled?"
"I don't know," Valentine said and flicked his ash again. '.We get good equipmentand we get bad equipmenWt. e get the goosdtuff more often, but what you have to do with it I'm sure I don't know."
"Well, if it weren't for me," Noonan counte"rtehde, good stuff would bemuch rarer.And besides, you scientistasre always breakingthe good equipment, and then callinfgor a replacement, and who covers for you then? For example...."
The phone rang and Noonan broke off and grabbed the receiver.
"Mr. Noonan?" the secretary asked "Mr. Lemchen again."

"Put him on."
Valentine got upb, rought twofingers to his forehead as a sign of farewell, and went out. Small, straight, and well-proportioned.
"Mr. Noonan?" the familiar drawling voice spoke in the phone. "I'm listening."
"You're not easy to reach at work, Mr. Noonan." "A new shipment has arrived."
"Yes, knowabout italready. Mr.Noonan, I'mhere only fora short time. There are feaw questions thatmust be discussed in person.I'm
referring to the latest contracts with Mitsubishi Denshi. The legal side." "At your service."
"Then, if you have no objection, abte our offices in a half hour. Is that convenient?"
"Perfect. In a half hour."
Richard Noonan hung up,stood, and rubbing hipslump hands,walked
around the officeH. e even began singing some pop ditty, but broke off on a particularly sournote andjovially laughed aht imself. He picked uhpis
hat, tossed his raincoat over his arm, and went out into the reception area. "Honey," he said to the secretary, "I'm off to ssoemee clients. You
stay here, hold the fort, as they say, anbdrinIg'llyou 3 present when I
get back."
She blossomed. Noonan blew her a kiss and rolled out into the corridors of the institute. Attempts wemreade to stop him a few times -- he wangled
out of conversations, joking, asking people to hold the fort without him, to keeptheir cool, andfinally emerged unscathedand uncaught, waving his
unopened pass under the nose of the sergeant on duty.

Heavy clouds hung low over the city. It was muggaynd the first hesitant drops orfain were scatteringon the sidewalklike little black
stars. Spreading his coat over his haenadd shoulders,Noonan trotted past the long row of cars toPheiusgeot, dove in, and tossetdhe coat inthe
back seat. He toookut the roundblack stick of the so-so from his suit pocket, put it in the jackthein dashboard,and pushed itin to the hilt withhis thumb. He wriggleadround, getting morecomfortable behind the
wheel,and pressed theaccelerator pedal. ThePeugeot silently drove out
into the middle of the straenedt
raced towardthe exit from thPere-Zone
Area.
The rain came pouringdown suddenly,as thougha buckethad been
overturned in the sky. The road got slippery and the car swerved at corners. Noonan turnedon the wipers and sloweddown. So, he thoughth, ey got the
report. Nowthey'll be praisingme. Well, I'm all for thIatl.ike being praised.Especially by Mr. Lemchehnimself. Inspite of himselfS. trange isn't it?Why do we like being praised? It doesn't get you anymmonoerye.
Glory? What kind of glory can we have? "He's famous: three people know about him now." Well, let's say four, counting BayWlishsa.t a funny creature man
is! It seems weenjoy praise justfor itself. The way childrenlike ice
cream.And it's sostupid. How canI be better in my own eyes? AIs if
didn't know myself? Gooodld fat Richard H. NoonanB?y theway, what does
that "H"stand for? What do you know about that? And there's nobody to ask, either.I can't ask Mr. Lemchen aboitu.tOh, remember! Herbert!Richard
Herbert Noonan. Boy, it's pouring.
He turned onto Central and suddenly thought how the city had grown over

thepast few yearsH.
uge skyscrapers.They're building another one over
there. What will it be? Oh, the Luna Complexw--otrhlde's best jazz, and a varietyshow, and so on. Everything for ogulorrious troops and oubrrave tourists, especially the elderly ones, and for the noble knights of science. And the suburbs are being emptied.
Yes, I'd like to know how this will all end. Well, ten years ago, I was sure I knew. Impenetrabpleolice lines. DMZtwenty miles wide. Scientists
and soldiers, and no one else. The horrible sore on the face of an odor that he had long ago givuepn tryingto identify, and he threw open the door at
the end of the corridor and went in. Instead soefcrtehteary there wasa verytan, unfamiliar young man tahte desk. He was in shirtsleeves. He was digging around itnhe guts of some electronic device that was set up on the desk insteadof the typewriter. RicharNd oonan hung up hicsoat andhat, smoothedwhat wasleft of his hair with both hands, and looked inquiringly
at the young man. He nodded. Noonan opened the door to the office. Mr. Lemchen rose heavily from the big leaathrmerchair in front of the
draped window. His angular general's face was wrinkled either in a welcoming smileor in displeasure with the weather poerr,haps, in a struggle with a
sneeze.
"Here you are. Come in, make yourself comfortable."
Noonan looked around for palace to make himself comfortable and could find nothing except for a hard, straight-backed chair tucked away behind the desk. Hesat on the edge of the desk. His jovial mwoaosd dissipating for
some reason--he himself did not understand why. Suddheenlyunderstood that he was not going bteo praised today Otnhe contrary. The day of wrath, he
thought philosophically and steeled himself for the worst.

"Please smoke,"Mr. Lemchen offeredl,owering himself back intothe armchair.
"No thank you, I don't smoke."
Mr. Lemchen noddedas though his worst suspicions had beceonfirmed, pressedhis fingertips togetherin a steeple infront of his facea,nd
carefully examined them for a while.
"I suppose that we won't be discussing thleegal affairs of the
Mitsubishi Denshi Company," he finally said.
That was a joke. Richard Noonan smiled readily. "As you like!"
It was devilishly uncomfortable on the desk, and his feet did not reach the floor.
"I'm sorry to tell you, Richard, that your report created an extremely favorable impression upstairs."
"Hmm," Noonan mumbled. Here it comes, he thought.
"They were even going
rtoecommend you for daecoration," Mr. Lemchen
continued. "However, I talked them into waiotingit. And I was right." He tore himselfaway from contemplating the pattern of thteen fingers and
looked up at Noonan. "You ask why I behaved in such a cautious manner?" "You probably had some justification," Noonan said in a dull tone.
"Yes, Ihad. What are the results of your report, Richard?The Metropolegang is liquidated. Througyhour efforts.The Green Flower gang wasapprehended red-handed. Brilliant work. Alsoyours. Quasimodo,the Wandering Musiciansa, nd all the other gangIs,don't rememberthe names,
disbanded because they knew the jig was upthaenyd would be taken any day.

All thisreally didhappen, it's all been verified obtyher sources. The battlefieldwas cleared.Your victory, Richard. The enemy retreatedin disarray, suffering heavy losses. Have I given an accurate account?"
"In any case," Noonan said carefully, "during the last three months the Bow of materialfsrom the Zone through Harmont has stopped. Atleast according to my information."
"The enemy has retreated, is that not so?" "Well, if you insist on the metaphor, yes."
"No! The point is that this enemy never retreats. I know that for sure. In rushing vaictory report, Richard, you havdeemonstrated yourlack of
maturity. That is why I suggested they hold off rewarding you immediately." Go blow, you andyour awards, thought Noonan, swinging his foot and
glumlywatching his shiny toeS.tick your awardsin the cobwebs in the attic!And allI need isa littledidacticism from you. I know whIo'm
dealing with without your lectures. Don't tell me about the enemy. Just tell me straighot ut--when, where,and howI messed up, whathose bastards managed to steal, where and how they found carancdkswithout the bullshit,
I'm no raw recruit, I'm over half a century old and I'm not sitting here for the sake of your stupid decorations and orders.
"What have you heard about the Golden Ball?" Mr. Lemchesnuddenly asked.
God, what does the Golden Ball have to do with all this, Noonan thought in irritation. I wish you and your indirect manner would go to hell.
"The Golden Ball is a legend," he reported in a dull voice. "A mythical artifact locatedin the Zone inthe shape and form oaf gold ball that
grants human wishes."

"Any wishes?"
"According to thecanonic version of the legend, any wish. There are, however, variant versions."
"All right. What have you heard about death lamps?"
"Eight years agoa stalker by the namoef Stefan Norman, nick- named Four-Eyes, brought ouatn apparatus fromthe Zone that, as faars can be judged, was some kind of ray-emitting sysftaetmal to earth organisms. This Four-eyes offeredthe apparatusto the institute.They did not agreoen price.Four-eyes reentered the Zone and nevercame back.The present whereabouts ofthe apparatusis unknown. People at the institute are still tearingtheir hairout overit. Hughfrom the Metropole, whomyou know, offered any sum that could be written on a check."
"Is that all?" Mr. Lemchen asked.
"That's all." Noonanwas blatantly looking around the roomT.he room was boring, there was nothing to look at.
"All right. And what have you heard about lobster eyes?" "What kind of eyes?"
"Lobster eyes. Lobsters. You know? With clawLse."mchen made clawlike movements with his fingers.
"I've never heard of them," Noonan said frowning. "And what about rattling napkins?"
Noonan climbed down from the desk asntdood before Lemchenh, ands in pockets.
"I don't know a thing about them. How about you?"
"Unfortunately, neitherdo I. Nor about thelobster eyes or the

rattling napkins. Nevertheless, they exist." "In my Zone?" Noonan asked.
"Sit down, sit down," Mr. Lemchen sawidaving hishand. "Our little talk is just starting. Sit down."
Noonan walked aroundthe desk andsat on thehard chair withthe straight back.
What's he aiming at? he thought feverishly. What is all this new stuff?
They probably found it in the other Zones and he's trying to make a fool out ofme, the ass. Henever liked met,he olddevil, he can'tforget the
limerick.
"Let's continue our little examination," Lemchen announcaesdhe drew aside an edge of the drape and peoeuretdthe window. "It's pouring. I like it."He releasedthe curtain, sat back ihnis chair, and looking at the
ceiling, asked: "How's old Burbridge getting along?"
"Burbridge? Buzzard Burbridge is undesrurveillance. He'sa cripple, well-to-do.No connection withthe Zone. He ownsfour bars anda dance school, andhe organizespicnics for officers fromthe garrison and for tourists.His daughter Dina leadas dissolute lifeH. is sonArthur just graduated from law school."
Mr. Lemchen nodded insatisfaction. "And what isCreon theMaltese doing?"
"He is one of the few activestalkers. He was mixedup withthe
Quasimodo gang, and now he peddles his swag to the institute through me. I'm giving him a frerein: somebody will pick him off sooner or laHteer'.s
been drinking a lot lately, and I'm afraid he won't last too long."
"Contact with Burbridge?"

"He's courting Dina. No success."
"Very good," Mr. Lemchen said. "What do you hear about Red Schuhart?" "He gotout ofprison last month. No financial difficulties. He tried
to emigrateb, ut hehas. .. ." Noonan was silent. "Well, he has family problems. He has no time for the Zone."
"Is that all?" "That's all."
"Not much," Mr. Lemchen said. "How are things with Lucky Carter?"
"He hasn't been a stalker for many years. He sells used cars and he has ashop that converts cars to run on so-sFoo'su.r kids, his wife died last
year. Has a mother-in-law." Lemchen nodded.
"Well, who have I forgotten of thoeldsters?" heasked ina kindly tone.
"You forgot Jonathan Miles,known as Cactus.He's in the hospital, dying of cancer. And you forgot Gutalin."
"Yes, yes, what about Gutalin?"
"He's still the same. He has a gang of three men. They go into the Zone fordays at atime, destroying everythingthey come across. His old
organization, the Fighting Angels, broke up." "Why?"
"Well, as you recaltlh, ey used to buy up swag aGnudtalin would take
it back into the Zone. The detvhiiln'sgs to the devil. Now there's nothing tobuy, and besides, the nedwirector ofthe institutegot thecops on
them."

"I understand," Mr. Lemchen said. "What about the young ones?" "Well, the young ones, theycome and go. There are five or six with
someexperience, but lately there'bseen no oneto fencethe swag and they're lost. I'm training them little by lIitttlhei.nk that stalking has
almost disappearedin my Zone, chief. The oolndes are retiredt,he young ones don't know how, atnhde prestige of the trade is slipping. Technology is taking over. Now there are robot stalkers."
"Yes, yes,I've heard about thatB. ut the machinesuse up toomuch energy. Or am I mistaken?"
"It's just a question of time. They'll be worth it soon." "How soon?"
"Five or six years."
Mr. Lemchen nodded again.
"By the way youprobably don't know that the enemyhas started employing the automated stalkers?"
"In my Zone?" Noonan asked, on guard.
"In yours, too. They base themselvesin Rexopolis, transfer the
equipment by helicopteorver the mountainsto Snake Canyon, to Black Lake, and the foothills of Mount Boulder."
"But that's the periphery of the Zone," Noonan said suspiciously. "It's empty there. What could they find?"
"Little, very little. But they find it. Anyway, I jwusats informing you, idt oesn't concern you. Let's recapitulate.There are almost no professionalstalkers leftin Harmont. The oneswho havestayed have no relationship to the Zonaeny more. The young ones are lost and undergoing a
processof beingtamed. The enemy is shattered, scattereadn, d lying low

somewhere licking hiws ounds. There is nsowag, and when it doeasppear, there's nobody tsoell it toT. he illegal removal ofmaterial from the
Harmont Zone ceased three months ago. Correct?"
Noonan was silent. Now, htehought. Now he's gointgo give it to me.
But where was the gap? It must have been a really big one, too. Well, do it, you old fart! Don't drag it out.
"I don't hearyour reply," Mr. Lemchen said cuppihnigs hand tohis wrinkled hairy ear.
"All right, chief,"Noonan saidsomberly. "Enough.You've boiled and fried me, now serve me at the table."
Mr. Lemchen harrumphed vaguely.
"You have absolutely nothing to say foryourself," he saidwith
unexpected bitterness. "You stand there flapping your ears before authority, how do you thinkfeIlt day before yesterday?" He interrupted himsgeolft,
up,and startedfor the safe. "In short, duringthe last twomonths,
according to the informatiowne have, the enemy haresceived more than six thousand itemsfrom thevarious Zones." He stopped before the safe, patted its painted side, and turnsehdarply toward Noonan. "Don't comfort yourself withillusions!" he shouted. "The fingerprints of Burbridge! The
fingerprints of the MaltesTe!he fingerprints of BeHn alevy the Nose, whom youdid noteven bother to mention! The fingerprints of Hindus Heresh and Pygmy Zmyg! Stohat's how you're training your youthBsr!acelets! Needles! White whirligigs! Andon top ofthat--these lobsters' eyes, anbditches'
rattles, and rattlinngapkins, whatever theyare! The hell with them all!"
He interruptedhimself again,returned to hisarm- chair, made sateeple

withhis fingers, andasked politely: "What do you think abaolul tthis, Richard?"
Noonan mopped his neck with his handkerchief.
"I don't think anything aboiut,t" he honestlyanswered. "Forgive me, chief, I'm a little ... let me catch my breath ... Burbridge! Buhrabsridge
nothing to do withe Zone any more!I knowhis every step! He arranges picnics anddrinking parties at lakesides. He'hsauling itin, he just
doesn't need the money. Excuse mken, oIw I'm blabbingnonsense, but I can assureyou that I haven't lost sight of Burbridge since he got out of the hospital."
"I won't keep you anloynger," Mr. Lemchen said". I'm giving you a
week. Come up with some ideas as to how the material from the Zone gets into the hands of Burbridge--and all the others. Good- bye."
Noonan rose, nodded to Lemchen's profile, and still wiping his sweating neck,went out into thereception area. Thetan young manwas smoking, thoughtfully gazing into thbeowels ofthe mangledelectronic device. He
glanced over at Noonan---his eyes were empty and seemed to gaze inward. Richard Noonan shoved hihsat on his head, grabbed his rain- coat, and
went outside. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. His thoughts were confused anrdambling. I must--BenHalevy the Nose! He's evegnotten
himselfa nickname! When? He's just a little punk, a snotty-nolistetlde punk.No, there's some- thing else going on! You legshlemssuck. Buzzard,
you really got me this time. Caught me with my pants down. How could it have happened?just like that time iSningapore-face flat onthe table, then
slammed against the wall....
He got in the car and for some time looked around the dashboard for the

ignition key, forgetting everything. Rain was dripping from his hat onto his lap.He took it off and tossietdinto the back witholuotoking. Rain was streaming across the windshieladn, d Richard Noonan thought thatit was
keeping him fromunderstanding what his next step should bHe.e punched himself inthe head. He feltbetter. He immediately remembered that there wasno key and couldn'tbe any because the so-swoas in hispocket. The permanent battery. Anydou have to takiet outof your pocket, dummy, and
stickit into the jack, and then at least you'll beable to drive
somewhere-somewherefar away from this building where othlde
bastardwas
probably watching from a window.
Noonan's hand froze as it was reaching for the so-so. Now I know who to begin with. I'bllegin withhim, oh how I'll begin with him. Nobody's ever
begun with anybody the way I'll begin with him. And ait'plllebaesure. He turned on the wipearsnd drove downthe avenue, seeingalmost nothing in front of him, but slowclaylming down. All right. Liett be like it was in Singapore.After all, it endedwell in Singapore. So what, I got fmacye
slammed down on the table one lousy time! It could have been worse. It could have been some other part of me and it hcaovueldbeen something with nails
init instead of a table. All right, let's osntaythetrack. Where'smy little establishment?Can't see adamn thing. Ah, here it isI.t wasn't
business hours, but the Five Minutes was as lit up as the Metropole. Shaking himself like a docgoming out ofthe water, Richard Noonan enteredthe
brightlylit room that reeked of tobacco, perfume, and stale champagne. Old
Penny, not in uniform yet, was sitatitngthe counter eating something, his fork in his fist. Spreading out hhuegre breastson the counter among the

empty glassesM,
a- dame watched him eaTt.he room had not yet been cleaned
up from last nighWt. hen Noonan walked in, Madame turned her broad, heavily
made-up face toward himIt. wasangry at first, buimt
mediately dissolved
into a professional smile.
"Hi!" shesaid in herdeep voice. "Mr. Noonan himself! Missetdhe girls?"
Benny went on eating; he was as deaf as a doornail.
"Greetings, old lady! What do I need with the girls when I have a real woman in front of me?"
Benny finally noticed him. His horrible face, coverwedith blue and purple scars, contorted into a welcoming smile.
"Hello, boss! Came in out of the rain?"
Noonan smiled in return and waved. He ndoitd like talking with Benny:
he had to shout all the time.
"Where's my manager, folks?" he asked.
"in his room," Madame answered. "He has to pay the taxes tomorrow. "Oh, those taxes!All right. Madame, please fix my favorite. bIe'll
right back."
Stepping soundlessly on the thick synthetic carpeting, he went down the hallway past the drapeddoorways of thecubicles--a picture of some flower paintedon the walnl ext to each one--turneidnto a quiet dead end, and
opened the leather-covered door without knocking.
Mosul Kitty sat behintdhe desk, examining a painful soorne his nose
in the mirror. He did not give a damn that he had to pay the taxes tomorrow. The completely bare desk thoepld only a jar with mercury salve and a glass
witha clear liquid.Mosul Kitty raised his bloodshot eyaets Noonan and

lumped up, dropping the mirror. Wordlessly, Noonan settled into the armchair opposite him ansdilently watched, whilehe muttered something abouthe
damn rain and his rheumatism. Then he said: "Why don't you lock the door, pal."
Mosul, his flafteet slapping thefloor, ran Lip ttohe door, turned
the key, and returnetod
the desk. His hairhyead towered over Noonan, and
he stared loyally into his mouth. Noonan kept watching him through half-shut eyes.For some reason he rememberedthat MosulKitty's realname was
Raphael. Mosul was famous for his hbuogney fists, purplishand bare, that stuck outfrom thethick hair that covered his armlikse sleeves. He had
called himself Kitty becaushee was convinced that that was the traditional nameof thegreat Mongol kings. Raphael. Well, Raphael baby, letg'set
started.
"How are things?" he asked gently.
"in perfect order, boss," Raphael-Mosul replied rapidly. "You smoothed over the problem at headquarters?"
"It cost 150. Everybody is happy."
"It comes out oyfour pocket. Itwas your faultp, al. It should have been taken care of."
Mosul made a pathetic face and spread his hands ina sign of submission.
"The parquet in the hall should be replaced," Noonan said. "It will be done."
Noonan said nothing, puckered his lips.
"Swag?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"There's a little," Mosul replied in a low voice, too. "Let's see it."
Mosul rushed over to the safe, took out a package, and opened it on the
deskin front of Noonan. Noonan felt around with one finger in tohfe pile
black spraysp, icked up a bracelet, examinedfriotm all sidesand put it back.
"This is all?"
"They don't bring any," Mosul said guiltily. "They don't bring any," Noonan repeated.
He aimed carefully and jabbed his toe withall his strength into Mosul'sshin. Mosul gruntedand bentover to grab the injuresdpot, but immediately straightened out and stood at attention. TNhoeonnan jumped up, grabbedMosul by his collar and came at him, kicking, rolling his eyes, and whispering obscenities. Mosul, moaning and groaning, rearing his head like a frightened horse, backed away from him until he fell onto the couch.
"Working bothsides, eh? You son of a bitch." Noonan was hissing right
into his terrified eyes. "Buzzard Burbridge is swimming in swag and you give me beads wrapped in paper?" He smacked inhimthe facet,rying to hithe
scabon his nose. "I'll ship you off to jail. Youli'lvlinbge inmanure,
eating dry bread. You'll curse the ydoauy were born!" He punched the sore
nose one more time. "Where does Burbridge get the swag? Why do they bring it tohim, and not to you? Who brings it? Why don't I know anything? Who are
you working for, you filthy pig? Talk!"
Mosul soundlessly openedand shut his mouth. Noonalent goof him, returned to the chair, and put his feet up on the desk.
"Well?" he said. Mosul sniffled back the blforom his nose and said:

"Honest, boss, what's thematter? Whatswag can Buzzardhave? He doesn't have any. Nobody's got swag."
"What, are you going to argue with me?" Noonan asked gently, taking his feet off the desk.
"No, no, boss,honest," Mosul hurried to say. "Me argwuieth you? I
wouldn't dream of it."
"I'm goingto getrid of you," Noonan threatened. "You don't know how
to work. What the hell do I need you for, you so-and-so? Guys like you are a dime a dozen. I need a real man for real work."
"Hold on, boss," Mosulsaid reasonably,smearing blood alol ver his face."Why do you attackme allof asudden? Let's workthis out." He touched hisnose gingerly. "You say Burbridge hasloat ofswag? I don't
know, somebody's been lyintog you. Nobody's gotany swag now. After all,
only punks go into the Zone now, and they're the only ones coming out. Nope, boss, someone's lied to you."
Noonan was watching him covertly.loIot ked asif Mosul really didn't know a thingI.t wouldn't have paid him to lie, anywBayu-z-zard Burbridge didn't pay very well.
"These picnics, are they profitable?"
"The picnics? I don't thinsko. Youwon't shovelin the money. But there aren't any profitable things left in town."
"Where are these picnics held?"
"Where? You know, in different placeBs.y White Mountain, at the Hot
Springs, at Rainbow Lake." "Who are the customers?"

"The customers?" Mosul sniffed, blinked, and spoke confidentially.
"If you're planning to get into the business yourself, boss, I wouldn't recommend it. You won't make much up against Buzzard."
"Why not?"
"Buzzard's customers are the blue helmets, one." Mowsausl
ticking the
pointsoff onhis fingers."Officers from the command post, two. Tourists
from the Metropole, the White Lily, and the Plaza, three. Then he's got good advertising. Even the locals go to him. Honest, boss, it's not worth getting mixed up in thbisusiness. He doesn't pay us that much for the girls, you
know."
"The locals go to him, too?" "The young people, mostly."
"Well, what happens on these picnics?"
"What happens? Wego there on buses, see?And whenwe get there everythingis set up--tables, tents, musiAc.nd everyone lives it up. The officers usually go with the girls. The tourists go look at the Zone-if it's
at the Hot Springs, the Zone is just a stone's throw away, on the other side of the Sulphur Gorge. Buzzard has throawlnot of horse bones aroutnhdere
and they look at them through binoculars." "And the locals?"
"The locals? Well, that doesn't interest the locaolsf, course. They amuse themselves in other ways."
"And Burbridge?"
"Burbridge? Burbridge ... is like everybody else." "And you?"
"Me? I'm like everybody else. I watch to see that the girls aren't hurt

... and, well, like everybody else, basically." "And how long does all this go on?"
"Depends. Three days, sometimes, sometimes a whole week." "And how much does thpisleasure trip cost?" Noonan askedt,hinking
about something else entirely. Mosul answered somethbinugt,Noonan didn't hear himT. hat's the ticket, Noonan thought. Several dasyesv,eral nights. Underthose conditions, it's simply impossible to keep an eye on Burbridge, evenif you triedB. ut stillhe didn't understand. Burbridge was legless,
and there was the gorge. No, there was something else there. "Which locals are steady customers?"
"Locals? I told you, mostltyhe young ones. You know, Halevy, Rajba, ChickenTsapfa, that Zmyg guy--and the Malteosfeten goes.A cutelittle group. They call it Sunday school. Shall we go to Ssucnhdoaoyl, they say. They concentrate on the old ladies, make pretty good mSoonmeye. oldbroad from Europe...."
"Sunday school," Noonan repeated.
A strange thought came to him. School. He rose.
"All right," he said. "Thheell with thepicnics. That's not for us. Butget it straight: Buzzard has swaagn,d that's our businessp,al. Look
for it, Mosul, look for it, or I'll throw you to the dogs. Where does he get it, who gives it to him? Find out and we'll give twenty percent more than he does. Got it?"
"Got it, boss." Mosul was standing, too, at attention, loyalthyison
blood-smeared face.
"Move it! Use your brains, you animal!" Noonan shouted and left.

Back at the bar he quickly drank his aperitif,a hchadat with Madame aboutthe decline in morality, hinted that he was planningextpoand the
operation, and lowering his voice for emphasis, asked for her advice on what to do about Benny-the ogludy was gettingold, he wasdeaf, his reaction
time was off, anhde didn't get along like he used two.asItsix already
and he was hungry. thAought was drilling through his brain, out of nowhere but at the samtieme explaining a lot. Actually, a lot had become bcylear
now anywayand the mystical aura that irritateadnd frightened him about
this businesswas gone. All that was left was disappointment in himself be- cause he had not thought of the possibeialirtlyier. But the most important
thing wasthe thought that kept floating hiins head and giving himno peace.
He said good-bye to Madame and shoPoeknny's hand, and headed straight forthe Borscht. Thewhole trouble is that we don'tnotice the years
slippingby, Noonanthought. The hell withthe years, we don't notice everything changing. We knotwhat everythingchanges, we're taught from
childhood that everything changes, and we've seen everything change with our own eyesmany a time, andyet we're totally incapable of recognizitnhge momentwhen the change comeosr elsewe look forthe change in the wrong
place. Thereare new stalkersnow, created by cybernetics. The old stalker
was a dirtys,ullen man whocrawled inch by inch througthe Zone on his
belly with mulish stubbornness, gathering his
engegst. The new stalker was
a dandy ian silk tie, an engineer sitting a mile or so away from the Zone,
a cigarette in his mouth, a glass with a pleasant brew at his elbow, and all he does issit and monitorsome screens. A salariedgentleman. A very
logical picture. So logical that any alternative jusnt odtidcome to mind.

But there were other possibilities--the Sunday school, for one.
And suddenly, from nowherea, wave of despair engulfed him. It was all
useless. PointlessM.
y God, he thought, we won't be atobledo a thing! We
won'thave the powerto containthis blight, hethought in horror. Not
because we don't worwkell. And not because they're smarter and more clever either. It's just thtahtat's the way the world Aisn. d that's the way man
isin this worldI.f there had never been the Visitation, there would have been something else. Pigs always find mud.
The Borscht was lit up and gaovffe a delicious smell. The Borscht had
changed,too. No more dancingn, o morefun. Gutalin didn't gothere any
more, he was turned obfyf
it, and Redrick Schuhart probably hsatudck his
nose in, made a face, and left. Erwnaest still instir and his olldady finally got troun theplace. She built up saolid steady clientele; the entireinstitute lunched there, including thsenior officers.The booths
were cozy, the food good, the prices reasonable, and the beer bubbly. A good old-fashioned pub.
Noonan saw Valentine Pilmanin oneof the booths.The laureate was drinkingcoffee andreading a magazine hehad foldedin half. Noonan approached him.
"May I join you?"
Valentine turned his dark glasses on him. "Ah," he said. "Please do."
"Just a second, I'll wash up first." He had remembered Mosul's nose. He was well known there. When ghoet back to Valentine's booth, there
was a plate of steaming sausaganesd a mug of beer--not cold and wnaortm,

just the way he liked it--on the table. Valentine put dowmnagtahzeine and took a sip of coffee.
"Listen, Valentine," Noonan said, cutting the meat. "What do you think, how will all this end?"
"What?"
"The Visitation. The Zones, the stalkers, themilitary-industrial
complexes--the whole lot. How can it all end'" Valentine looked at him for a long time with his blind black lenses.
"For whom? Be specific."
"Well, say for our part of the planet."
"That depends on whether we have luck or Wnoet.now know that
oinur
part of the planet the Visitation left no aftereffecttsh,efmorost part.
That does not rule out, of course, the possibility that in pulling all these chestnuts out otfhe fire, we may puolul t some thing thawt ill make life impossible not only for ubsu,t for theentire planet. Thatwould be bad
luck. But, yomu ust admit, sucha threat always hovers over mankind." He chuckled. "You seeI,'ve long lost thheabit of talkingabout mankind in
general. Humanity as a whole is too fixed a system, there's no changing it." "You think so? Maybe, you're right, who knows?"
"Be honest, Richard," Valentine said, obviously enjoying himself.
"What has the Visitation changeind
your life? You're a business- man.
Now youknow thereis at least one other rational creature in the Universe besides man. So what?"
"What can I say?" Noonan wmasumbling. He wassorry thathe had ever started the conversation. There was nothing to talk about.
"What has changed for me? Well, for several years now I've been feeling

uneasy, insecure. All right.
tShoey came and left rigahwt ay. And what if
they come again anddecide to stay? As a businessmaIn,have to take these
questionsseriously: who are they, how
tdhoey live, what do they need? On
the most basic level I have to think how to chanpgreodmucyt. I have to be
ready. And what if I turn out to be completely superfluous in their system?" He livened up. "What if we are superfluous? LVistaelnen, tine, since we're
talking abouitt, are there any answers to these questions? Who are they, what did they want, will they return?"
"There areanswers," Valentine said, smiling. "Lots of them, take your pick."
"And what do you think yourself?"
"To tell the truth, Inever permitted myself the luxuroyf thinking
about it seriously. For me the Visitation is primaaurinlyique event that allows us to skip several steps inprtohceess of cognition. Like a trip
into the futuroef technology. Like a quantum generator ending up in Isaac
Newton's laboratory."
"Newton wouldn't have understood a thing."
"You're wrong. Newton was a very perspicacious man."
"Really? Well, who cares about him anyway. What dothyinoku about the
Visitation? You can answer unseriously."
"All right, I'ltlell you.But Imust warn you thaytour question,
Richard, comes under the heading of xenology. Xenology: an unnatural mixture of sciencefiction andformal logic. It's based on the faplsremise that
human psychology is applicable to extraterrestrial intelligent beings."
"Why is that false?" Noonan asked.

"Because biologists have already been burned trying to usehuman
psychology on animals. Earth animals, at that."
"Forgive me, but that's anentirely different matterW.
e're talking
about the psychology of rational beings."
"Yes. And everything would be fine if we only knew what reason was. "Don't we know?" Noonan was surprised.
"Believe it ornot, wedon't. Usually atrivial definitionis used: reason isthat part of man's activity thatdistinguishes him from the animals. Youknow, an attempt todistinguish the owner fromthe dogwho understandseverything but just can't speak. Actually, this trivial
definitiongives rise to rather more ingenious ones. Based on bitter
observation of the above-mentioned human activitFieosr.
example: reason is
the ability of a living creature to perform unreasonable or unnatural acts." "Yes, that's aboutus, aboutme, and thoselike me," Noonan agreed
bitterly.
"Unfortunately. Or how about this hypothetical definitiRone.ason is a complex type of instintchtat has not yet formed completely. This implies thatinstinctual behavior is always purposeful and natural. A million years
from now our instinct will have matured and we will stop making the mistakes that are probably integral rteoason. And then, isfomething should change
in the universe, wweill all become extinct--precisely because we will have forgottenhow to makemistakes, thatis, to try various approachensot stipulated by an inflexible program of permitted alternatives."
"Somehow you make it all sound demeaning."
"All right, how about another definition-v-aery lofty and noble one. Reasonis the ability to use the forces of theenvironment without

destroying that environment." Noonan grimaced and shook his head. "No, that's not about uHs.ow about this: 'man, as opposed to animals,
isa creature with anundefinable need for knowledge'? I read that somewhere."
"So haveI," said Valentine. "But the whole problem with that is that
the average man--the one you have in mwihnedn you talk about 'us' and 'not us'--veryeasily manages toovercome this need for knowledge. Idon't
believe that need even exists. Therea
inseed to understand, and you don't
needknowledge for that. The hypothesiosf God, forinstance, gives an incomparablyabsolute opportunity to understand everything and know
absolutely nothing. Give man an extremely simplified system of the world and explain every phenomenoanway on the basis of that system. An approach like that doesn'trequire anyknowledge. Just afew memorized formulaspins
so-called intuition and so-called common sense."
"Hold on," Noonan said. He finished his beer and set the mug noisily on the table. "Don't get off the track. Let's get bathcek stuobject on hand.
Man meets an extraterrestrial creature. How do they fintdhaot utht ey are both rational creatures?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Valentine said with great pleasure. "Everything I've read on the subject comes down to a vicious circle. If
they are capable of making contact, then they are rationalv. icAendversa; ifthey are rational, they arceapable of contact. And in general: if an extraterrestrial creature has the honor of possessing human psychology, then it is rational. Like that."
"There yougo. And I thought you boys hadaliltlaid out in neat

cubbyholes."
"A monkey can put things into cubbyholes," Valentine replied. "No, wait a minute."For somereason, Noonan felt cheated. "If you
don'tknow simple thingslike that....All right, the hell wirtheason.
Obviously, it's a real quagmire. OK. wBhuatt about the Visitation? What do you think about the Visitation?"
"My pleasure. Imagine a picnic." Noonan shuddered.
"What did you say?"
"A picnic. Picture a forest, a country road, a meadow. A car drives off
the country road into the meadow, a group of young people get out of the car carryingbottles, baskets of foodt,ransistor radios,and cameras. They
light Fires, pitch tents, turn on the music. In the mtohrenyingleave. The animals, birdsa, nd insects that watcheidn horror through the long night creepout from their hiding places. Anwdhat do they see?Gas and oil spilledon the grass. Old sparpklugs and old filters strewn around. Rags, burnt-outbulbs, and amonkey wrench left behind. Oil slicks on ptohned.
And ofcourse, the usual mess--apple cores, candy wrappers, charred remains ofthe campfire, cans, bottles, somebody's handkerchief, somebody's
penknife, torn newspapers, coins, faded Bowers picked in another meadow." "I see. A roadside picnic."
"Precisely. A roadside picnic, on some road in the cosAmnods. you ask if they will come back."
"Let me have a smoke. Goddamn this pseudoscience! Somehow I imagined it all differently."
"That's your right."

"So does that mean they never even noticed us?" "Why?"
"Well, anyway, didn't pay any attention to us?" "You know, I wouldn't be upset if I were you."
Noonan inhaled, coughed, and threw away the cigarette.
"I don't care," he said stubbornly. "It can't be. Dyaomu nscientists!
Wheredo you get your contemfpotr man?Why are you always tryintog
put
mankind down?"
"Wait a minute," Valentine said. "Listen: 'You masekwhat makesman great?'"he quoted."'That he re-created nature?That he has harnessed cosmic forces?That in a brief time he conquerethde planet and opened a windowon the universe? No! Thadt,espite allthis, he hassurvived and intends to survive in the future.'"
There was a silence. Noonan was thinking.
"Don't getdepressed," Valentinesaid kindly."The picnic is moywn theory. And not even a theory--jauspticture. The serious xenologists are working on much mosreolid and flatteringversions for human vanityF.or
example, that there has been no Visitation yet, that it is to come. A highly rational culturethrew containers with artifactosf its civilization onto
Earth. They expecuts to studythe artifacts, makea giant technological
leap, and send a signal in response that will show we are ready for contact. How do you like that one?"
"That's much better," Noonan sai"dI.
see that there are decent people
among scientists after all."
"Here's another one. The Visitation has taken place, but it is not over

by a long shot. We are in contact even as we speak, but we are riot aware of it.The visitors areliving inthe Zones and carefully observing us and
simultaneously preparing us for the 'cruel wonders of the future.' " "Now that Ican understand!At leastthat explains the mysterious
activity in threuins of the factory.By theway, yourpicnic doesn't explain it."
"Why doesn'tit? One of thgeirls could have forgottehner favorite wind-up teddy bear on the meadow."
"Just skipit. That's some teddy bear. The earth around it is shaking!
On the other hand, maybe it is somebody's teddy. aHboouwt a beer? Rosalie! Twobeers forthe xenologists! You know, it reallyniicse chattingwith
you," he said to Valentine. "Cleaning out the old brains, like pouring Epsom
salts under msykull. You know, you work and woarnkd,
lose sight owf hy,
and what will happen, and how you'll soothe your savage breast." The beer came. Noonan tooaksip, watching over the heaodf foamas
Valentine examined his mug with a look of distaste. "You don't like it?"
"I usually don't drink," Valentine said hesitantly. "Really?"
"The hell with it!" Valentine moved the mug of beer away from him. "Why don't you order me a cognac in that case."
"Rosalie!" Noonan called out, finally cheering up. The cognac arrived. Noonan spoke.
"But you really shouldn't go on like tIh'mat.not talking about your
picnic--that'stoo much--but even if we accethpet
version that thiiss a
prelude to contacIt,still don'tlike it. I can understand the bracelets

and the empties. But wthhye witches'jelly? The mosquito mange spoatsnd that disgusting fluff?"
"Excuse me," Valentine said, taking a sloicfelemon. "Idon't quite understand your terminology. What mange?"
Noonan laughed.
"That's folklore. Stalkers' slang. Shop talk. The mosqmuiatonge spots are areas of heightened gravitation."
"Ah. Graviconcentrates. Directed gravity. That's somethiwngould enjoy talking about for a couple of hours, but you wouldn't understand a thing."
"Why wouldn't I? I'm an engineer, you know.'
"Because I don't understand it myself. I have systems of equations, but no way to interpret them. Witches' jelly, is that colloidal gas?"
"The very same. Didyou hear about thceatastrophe at theCurrigan labs?"
"I heard something about it."
"Those idiots put a porcelain container with jethlley intoa special room, highly insulated and isolated. That is, tthhoeuyght it was isolated.
Andwhen they opened the container with manipulators the jelly went through metaland plastic, like water through a sieve, and outside. eAvenrdything
it touched also turned into jelly. Thirty-five people were killed, more than
a hundred were crippled, and the entire building was destroyed. Did you ever
go there? Marvelously equipped place! And now the jelly has seeped down into the basement and the lower Boors. Some prelude to contact."
Valentine made a face.
"Yes, I know altlhat. But you must agree, Richard, tthhaet visitors

had nothing to do with it. Hcould they have known about the existence of our military-industrial complexes?"
"They should have known," Noonan insisted.
"Their answer tothat wouldbe that the military-industrial complexes should have been done away with a long time ago."
"That's for sure. That'swhat theyshould have takencare of, if they're so powerful."
"You mean you're suggesting interference in the internal affairs of the human race?"
"Hmmm," Noonan said."I guesswe're going toofar. Let's dropit.
Instead, let's go back to the beginning of our discussion. Hoiwt allwill
end? Well, look at you, for instance, you're a scientist. Are you hoping for something fundamentatlo come out otfhe Zone, some- thing that will alter science, technology, our way of life?"
Valentine shrugged.
"You're barking up the wrong treRei,chard. I don't like to indulge in
empty fantasizing. When the subject is something serious, I prefer to revert
to healthy careful skepticism. Based on what we've already received, a whole range of possibilities is raised, and I can say nothing specific about it."
"All right, let'stry another approach. What do youthink you've already received?''
"You'll find this amusing--very littlWe. e've unearthed many miracles.
In a fewcases, we'veeven learnedhow to use thesme iracles for our own
needs. A monkey pushes a red button and gets a banana, pushes a white button andgets an orange, buit doesn't know how to get bananas and oranges
without the buttons. And it doesn't understand what relationship the buttons

have to the fruit. Take the so-so's, for example. Wleaer'vned how to use
them. We've even learned the circumstances under which they multiply through a process similar to cell division. But we still haven't been able to make a
single so-soW.
e don't know how they work, and judging by present evidence,
it will be a long time before we will."
"I would put it this way. There aorbejects for which we havfoeund
uses. We use them, but almost certainly not the way the visitors use them. I
am positive that in the vast majority of
wcaeseasre hammeringnails with
microscopes.But atleast we're using somethings--the so-so's, and the bracelets to stimulate life processes. And the various types of
quasibiological masses, which have created a revolution in medicine. We have received new tranquilizersn,ew types of mineral fertilizers,reavolution
in agriculture. But why am I givingayoliust! Youknow thisat ]east as well as I--I noticyeou wear a braceletL. et's call this group of objects beneficial.It can besaid thatmankind hasbenefited fromthem in some
degree, even though it should never be forgotten that in our Euclidean world every stick has two ends."
"Undesirable applications?"
"Precisely. Say the use of so-soin's the defense industry. But that's notwhat I'm talking about. The action of every beneficial object has been more or less studieadnd more or less explained. Our technology is holding
us up In fifty years or so we'll know how to make them ourselves and then we can crack nuts to our hearts' content.mIot'rse complicated with the other
group of objects--more complicated becauwsee have found no application for
them, and their qualities withthine framework of our present concepts are

definitelynot understandable. For instance, thme agnetic traps. Weknow
that they're magnetitcraps, Panov has proven it very wittily. But we don't
know the source osufch a powerfuml
agnetic Fieldand whatcauses their
superstability. Wedon't understand a thing abotuhtem. We can onlwy eave fantastic theories about properties of space that we never suspected before. Or the K-23. Whdato you call it? The pretty black beads thaut seadre for jewelry?"
"Black sprays."
"That's it, the blacskprays. That's a good name. Well, you know their properties.If you shinea ray of lightinto oneof those beads, the
transmission ofthe light is delayeadnd the delaydepends onthe bead's
weight, size, and several other parameters. And the unit of light coming out is always smaller than tohnee entering. What is this? Why? There is a wild theory that the black sprays are gigantic expansesps aocfe with properties different fromthose of our spacaend that they became curled up under the influenceof our space." Valentine sighed deeply. "In short, the objects in
this group have absolutenlyo applications to human life today. Even though from a purely scientific pooinft viewthey are of fundamental importance. They are answertshat have fallenfrom heaven to questionsthat we still
can't pose. Perhaps Sir Isaac wouldn't have figured out lasers, but he would at least have understood that such a thing is possible, anwdouthldathave
influenced hisscientific outlookgreatly. I won't go into detail, but the existence of such objects tahse magnetic traps, the K-23, and thwehite
ring has invalidated most of our recently developed theories and has brought forth completely new ideas. And there is still a third group."
"Yes," Noonan said. "The witches' jelly and other goodies."

"No, no.Those fall eitherinto the firstor secondcategory. I'm talking abouot bjects that weknow nothingabout or have only hearsay information.The things that the stalkers stofrloem under our noses and soldto God knowswho, or have hiddenT. he things that they don't talk about.The things that havebecome legends orsemi- legends. The wish machine, Dick the Tramp, and the jolly ghosts."
"Wait a minute!What arethose things?I can figureout the wish machine, but. . . ."
Valentine laughed.
"You see, we have our own shop talk, too. tDheicTkramp--that's the
hypotheticalwind-up teddy bear wreaking havoc
tihne oldplant. And the
jolly ghosits a type of dangeroutusrbulence that occurs in some parts of the Zone."
"First I've heard of it."
"You understand,Richard, that we've been digging around thine Zone for twentyyears but we don't eveknnow a thousandth of whatcoitntains. Andif you want to talokf the Zone's effect on man.B.y.. the wayi,t
looks as though we'll have to add another category, the fourth group. Not of objects, butof effects.This grouphas been shamefullyneglected, even
thoughas faras I'm concerned, thereare more thanenough facts for research.And youknow, sometimes myskin crawls, Richard,when I think about those facts." Zombies," Noonan said.
"What? Oh,no, that's merely puzzling. Hocwan I put it--at]east, that'simaginable. I mean whesnuddenly for no reasoant all things start
happening, nonphysical, nonbiological phenomena."

"Oh, you mean the emigrants."
"Exactly. Statistics is vaery precise science, you know, evtehnough itdeals with random occurrences. And besides, it's an eloquentand beautiful science."
Valentine seemed to bteipsy. Hisvoice was louderh, is cheekswere
red, and his eyebrows had crept up high over his dark glasses, wrinkling his forehead into a washboard.
"I really like nondrinkers," Noonan said.
"Don't get off the subject!" Valentine said. "Listen, wcahnatItell you?It's very strange." He raised his glass, drank half in one agnudlp,
went on". We don'tknow whathappened to the poor Harmonites thaet
very
moment of the Visitation. But now one of them decides to emigrate. Your most typical man in the street. A barber. The son of a barber and the grandson of
a barber. He moves, satoy, Detroit. He openusp a barbershop and all hell breaks loose. Over ninety percent of his clients die during a year: they die in car crashes, fall out of windows, are cut down by gaonrgsmteurgsgers,
drown inshallow waters, and so on andso forth. A numberof natural disasters hitDetroit and its suburbs. Typhoons and tornadoes, nsoeten
since eighteen-oh-somethings, uddenly appear in the area. And all that kind
of stuff. And such cataclysmic events take place in any city, any area where an emigrant from a Zone area settles. The number of catastrophes is directly proportional to the number of emigrants who have moved to the city. And note that thisreaction is causedonly by emigrants who actually lived through
the VisitationT. hose born afterthe Visitation have noeffect onthe disaster and accident statistics. You've livheedre forten years, but you
moved inafter the Visitation anidt would be safe to relocate you even in

theVatican. How can this be explained?What should we reject? The
statistics?Or common sense?" Valentine grabbed the glaansds
finished his
drink in a gulp.
Richard Noonan scratched his head.
"Hmmm, yes. Of courseI,'d heardall that before, but uIh, , assumed that it was all, to pumt ilidt ly, exaggerated. Really, from thpeoint of view of our highly developed science...."
"Or, for instance, the mutagen effect of the Zone," Valentine interrupted. Heremoved his glassesand stared atNoonan with his dark, myopic eyes". Everyone who spends enough time with the Zoneundergoes changes,both of phenotype angdenotype. You knowwhat kindof children
stalkers can have and you know what happens to the stalkers themselves. Why?
Where is the mutation factor? There is no radiiantitohne Zone. While the
air and soinl
the Zone have their owspnecific chemicalstructure, they
pose no mutation dangers at all. Wshotuld Ido underthe circumstances
--believe in sorcery? In the evil eye?"
"I sympathize.But, frankly, I am much more upsetcobrypses cometo lifethan by your statistics. Especially since I've never seen the
statistics, but I have seen the zombies--and smelled them." Valentine waved away the statement.
"Bah, your zombies. Richard, you should be ashamed of yourself. You are aneducated man, afterall. First of all, they are not corpTsehse.y are
moulages - reconstructions on the skeletons, dummies. And I assure you, from the point ovfiew of fundamentalprinciples, your moulages are no more
amazing than the eternal batteries. It's tjhuastt the so-so's violattehe

first law of thermodynamics, and the moulages violate the seWcoen'rde.
all
cave men in onsense oranother. We can't imagine anything scarier than a ghost.But the violation of the law coafusality is much morteerrifying
than astampede of ghosts. And all thmeonsters of Rubenstein, or is it
Wallenstein?" "Frankenstein."
"Of course. Frankenstein. Mrs. Shelley. The poet's wife. Or daughter." He suddenly laughed. "Oumroulages havea curious property--autonomic life capability. For example, if you cutsomffe part of their bodies, the part will live on. Separately. Without any physiological solutions to nourish it. They brought one like that to inthsteitute recently. A lab assistant from
Boyd told me about it." Valentine laughed uproariously.
"Isn't it time we headefdor home, Valentine?" Noonan asked, glancing at his watch. "I still have some important business."
"Let's go." Valentinetried hard to inserhtis faceinto the glasses
and finally had to take the frame with both hands thtoempuotn hisnose. "Do you have a car?"
"Yes. I'll drive you.T"hey paid thecheck and headed for thdeoor.
Valentine kept making mock salutgesre, eting lab workers who were curiously watchingone of thegreat men of world physics. At the door, greethtieng
broadly smiling doorman, hkenocked offhis glasses, and all three of them scrambled to catch them.
"Tomorrow I'm runningan experiment. You know,it's an interesting thing...." Valentine was muttering as he climbed into the Peugeot.
He went on to describe the experimeNnot.onan drove him to the science

complex.
They're afraid, too, he thought, getting backinto thecar. The
highbrows are also scared. Atnhdat's the way it should bTeh.ey should be moreafraid than all us regular foplkut together.We don't understand a thing,and they understand how much they don't. Theylook into the bottomless pit and know that iinte'svitable, theymust go down into it.
Their hearts catch, but they must go down, and descend they do, but how, and what will they find at the bottom, and most importantth, ewy ilbl e able to
climbout? Meanwhile,we mere mortals lootkhe otherway, so to speak. Listen, maybethat's how it should be. Let it all run its course, and we'll
just getby on our own. He was right: humanitym'sost heroic deed was
surviving and intending to survive. Bheu'dt
still teltlhe visitors to go
tohell, ifhe could. Why couldn't they hahvaed theirpicnic somewhere
else. Like the Moon. Or Mars. You heartless trash, he thought, just like all
the rest, even if you do know how to curl up space. So they had themselves a picnic. A picnic.
What's the bestway to deal with mpyicnickers? he thoughtd, riving
slowly down the brightly lit wet streets. What would be the cleverest way to
handleit? Following the law of least actiloikne,
in mechanicsW.
hat the
hell use is my blankety-blank engineering degree if Ievceann'tfigure out the best way to trap that legless son of a bitch?
He parked in front of the house in which Redrick Schuhart lived and sat in the car, planning hoipsening gambit. Then he removed the so-so, got out ofthe car, and only then noticed that the house looked uninhabited. Almost
all the windows were dark, there was nobody in the park, and even the lights

inthe park were out. It remindheidm of what he was about to asneed, he
shivered. He even considered the possibility of phoning Schuhart and talking
withhim in thecar or in some quiet bar,
hbeut rejected the idea. For a
whole lot of reasons. And besides, he said to himself, let's not behave like all those characters who ran out like rats deserting a sinking ship.
He went into the main entrance and slowly up the unswept stairs. It was quiet and manoyf the doors leadinfgrom the landingswere ajar or wide
open.It smelled damp and dusty inthe apartments. He stoppedbefore
Redrick'sdoor, smoothed his hair, sighed deeply, and rang the bell. It was
still behind the door for a whthileen,
the floor creaked, the lock turned,
and the door opened quietly. He hadn't heard the footsteps. Monkey, Schuhart's daughter, stood in the doorwayb. riAght light fell
from the foyeornto the landing,and at firstNoonan could only setehe girl's dark silhouette. He thought how muchhashdegrownin the lasftew
months. Then she stepped back into the foyer and he saw her face. His throat
went dry for a second.
"Hello, Maria," he said, tryintog
beas gentle as possible. "How are
you, Monkey?"
She did not reply. Silently and soundlesshye backed away from the door into thleiving room, lookingat himfrom under her eyeb-rews. It looked asthough she did not recognize him. To tell the trutcho,ulhden't recognize her either. It's the Zone, he thought. Damn.
"Who's there?" Guta asked, looking out of the kitchen. "God, it's Dick! Where did you disappear to? You know, Redrick is back!"
She hurried over to him drying her hands withtowtheel slung over her
shoulder.Still as beautiful, energetics, trong, butshe looked strained

somehow: her face was thinner, and her eyes looked ... feverish, perhaps? He kissed her cheek, gave her his raincoat and hat.
"I'm sorry, I'msorry. I justcouldn't get away to come over. Is he in?"
"He's in," Guta said."There's somebody with him. We should be leaving soon, they've been talking a long time. Go on, Dick.
He took severalsteps downthe hall andstopped ill the door to the livingroom. An old mawn as sittingat the table. A mileage. Motion- less and listing slightly. Thpeink light from the lampshadfell onhis broad
dark face, his sunken, toothless mouth, and his still, lusteeyrleess.s And Noonansmelled it immediatelyH. e knewthat it was just his imagination, thatthe odor lasted only the first few days and then disappeared
completely, but Richard Noonan smellietdwith hismemory--the fetid heavy smell of turned-up earth.
"We could go to the kitchen," Guta said quickly. "I'm cooking there and we could chat."
"Yes, of course!"he saidcheerily. "It's been such a long time! You
haven't forgotten that I like a drink before dinner, I hope?"
They wentto the kitchenG.
uta opened the refrigerator and Noonan sat
atthe table and looked arounAd.s usual, it was clean and shiny and steam wasrising from the pots and pans onthe stove. Theoven was new, semiautomatic. That meant they had money.
"Well, how is he?" Noonan asked.
"The same. He lost weight in prison, but I'm fattening him up." "His hair still red?"

"You bet!"
"Hot-tempered?"
"What else! He'll be that way to the grave."
Guta gave him a Bloody Mary. The clear layer of Russian vodka seemed to float on the layer of tomato juice.
"Too much?"
"Just right." Noonan poured the drink down.reHaelized thatthat was his first real drink all day. "Now that's better."
"Is everything all rightwith you?"Guta asked."Why haven't you dropped by for such a long time?"
"Damn business. Every week I intended to come over oleraastt call,
but first I had gto to Rexopolist,hen there was a big to-do, and then I heard that Redrick was back and I thought I'd let yohuavtewsoome time to yourselves. I'mreally hassled, Guta. Sometimes I ask myself, what the hell
are we all runninaground for,anyway? To make money? But what the hell do we need money if all we do is run around making it?"
Guta clatteredthe pot covers, took a packof cigarettes from the shelf,and sat at the table acrossfrom Noonan. Her eyes were lowered. Noonanpulled outhis lighterand lit her cigarette. And again, for the second timein hislife, he sawher handstrembling, like thetime when Redrickhad justbeen sentencedand Noonan came overto give her some
money--she was in a lot of trouble at first with no money at all, and no one inthe building would lend her any. Then thweares suddenly money inthe
house, and quitae bit of it, judging ebvyerything, and Noonan had a good guess as to its source, but he contincuoemding over, bringing Monkey candy
andtoys, spendingwhole evenings overcoffee withGuta, planning a new,

happy lifefor Redrick.And then, having heard her stories, he would go to the neighbors and try to reason with them, explaining, coaxing, and finally, at the end of his patience, threatenthinegm: "You knowRed will be coming back, and he'll break you all in half." But nothing helped.
"How's your girlfriend?" Guta asked. "What girlfriend?"
"The one you came over with that time, the blonde."
"That's no girlfriend! Thatwas my secretary. She got married and quit."
"You ought to get married, Dick. You want me to find a girl for you?" Noonan was about to givtehe standard reply: "Well, I'm juwsatiting
for Monkey tgorow up." But he stopped himself. It wjuosut ldn't have come off any more.
"I need a secretary, not a wife," he bumbled. "Why don't you leave your reddevil andcome be my secretary. Youused tobe an excellent one. Old
Harris still reminisces about you."
"I'll bet. My hand was always black and blue from beating him off." "Oh, so itwas like that?" Noonantried tolook surprised. "That
Harris!"
"God!" Guta said. "I could never pgaestt him. Myonly worry was that
Red would find out."
Monkey walked in silentlyh, overing near thedoor. She looked at the pots,at Richard,then cameup to hermother and leanedagainst her, averting her face.
"Well, Monkey," Richard Noonan said heartily. "Like some chocolate?"

He took a chocolate bar out of hisvest pocket and extended the plastic-wrapped packageto the girl.She did notstir. Guta took the chocolate from him and put it on the table. Her lips were white.
"Well, Guta, you know I've decided to move."spHoeke onin ahearty tone. "I'm tired of hotel living. And it's too far from the institute."
"She understands less andless--almost nothing any more,G" uta said softly.He stopped talking, picked upthe glass with bothhands, and absently twirled it.
"You're not asking how we're doingsh,"e continued. "And you're right.
Except that you're an old friend, Dick, and we have no secrets from you. And there's no way to keep it a secret anyway."
"Have you seen a doctor?" he asked without looking up.
"Yes. They can't doa thing.And one of them said...." She stopped talking.
He was silent too. There was nothing to say about it and he didn't want tothink about it either. Suddenlhye had a horrible thought: it was an invasion.Not aroadside picnic,not a prelude tocontact. It wasan
invasion. They can't change us, so they get into the bodieschoifldoreunr
and change them in their own imaHgee.felt a chill, but then he remembered
that he had read something like itnhaat
paperback with a lurid cover, and
he felt better. You can imagine anything at all. And real life is never what you imagine.
"And one of them said that she's no longer human."
"Nonsense," Noonan said hollowly. "You should go rteoala specialist. Go see JameCs utterfield. Doyou want me to tatlok him? I'll arrange an appointment."

"You meanthe Butcher?" She laughed nervousl"yD. on't bother. Thanks, Dick, but he's the one who said so. I guess it's fate."
When Noonan dared tolook up again, Monkey was goneand Gutawas
sitting motionless, her mouth half-open, her eyes empty, and a long gray ash on her cigarette. He pushed his glass over to her.
"Make me another, please, and one for yourself. We'll have a drink." The ash fell and she looked around for a place for the butt. She threw
it into the garbage can.
"Why? That's what I can't understand! We're not the worst people in the city."
Noonan thoughtthat she was going to crbyu,t she didn'tS. he opened
the refrigerator, got the vodka and juice, and atnoootkher glass down from the cabinet.
"Don't giveup hope. There's nothing in the world that can't be fixed. And believe me, Guta,haIve very important connections. I'll do everything that I can."
He believed what he was saying ahnedwas mentally going over the list of hisconnections ill variouscities, and it seemetdo himthat hehad
heard about similar cases, and that thhaedy seemedto have ended happily.
He just had to remember where it was and whpohytshiceian was. But then he remembered Mr. Lemchen, anhde remembered why he had befriendGeduta, and
then he didn't watnot
think about anything at aHlle. scattered allhis
thoughts of connections, gcoot mfortable in his chair, relaxed, and waited for his drink.
There were shuffling steps and a thumping in the hall and he could hear

the more-than-ever repulsive voice of Buzzard Burbridge.
"Hey, Red! Looks like your Guta is entertainsionmg eone. I seea hat.
If I weryeou, I wouldn't leave them alone." Red's voice: "Watch your false leg, Buzzard. Shut your mouth. There's the door, don't forget to leave. It's time for my dinner."
"Damn it, can't even make a little joke."
"We've had all the jokes we'll ever have. Period. Now get going!" The lock clickedand the voices werqeuieter. Obviously they had gone
outon the landing. Burbridge said something in an undertone,Raenddrick
replied: "That's all, we've had our talk!" More grumbling from Burbridge and
Redrick's harsh:"I said that's it!" The door slammed, there were loud fast
steps inthe hall,and Redrick Schuhart appeared
tihne kitchen doorway.
Noonan rose to greet him, and they warmly shook hands.
"I was sureit wasyou," Redrick said, looking Noonan ovweirth his
quick greenish eyes. "Putting on weigfahtts, o! Keep putting it away, eh? I
see you're passing thtieme of day pleasantly enough. Guotald,
love, make
one for me, too. I've got to catch up."
"We haven't even started yet. How can anyone get ahead of you?" Redrick laughed harshly and punched Noonan in the shoulder.
"Now we'll see whcoatches up and whgoets ahead! Come on, letg'so, what are we doing out here in the kitchen? Guta, bring on the dinner."
He reached into the refrigerator andcame out witha bottle with a bright label.
"We'll have ourselves faeast!" he announced. "Wehave totreat our
best friend Richard Noonan royally, for he does not desert his pals in their moment of need! Even though he is of no help whatever. Too bad Gutalin's not

here."
"Why don't you call him?" Noonan suggested. Redrick shook his bright red head.
"They haven't laid the phone lines to where he is tonight. Let's go. He went into the living room and slammed the bottle on the table. "We're going to celebratep,ops!" he saidto the motionless olmd an.
"Thishere is Richard Noonano,ur friend!Dick, this ismy pop, Schuhart
Senior."
Richard Noonan, his mind rolled uinpto an impenetrable ball, grinned from ear to ear, waved, and said in the direction of the moulage:
"Glad tomeet you, Mr. Schuhart. Howare you? Youknow, we've met before, Red," he said to Schuhart, wJhr.o, was puttering athe bar. "We
saw each other once, but very briefly, of course."
"Sit down," Redrick said
htoim, indicating the chair opposite the old
man. "If you're going to talk to him, speak up. He can't hear a thing."
He set up the glasses, quickly opened the bottle, and turned to Noonan. "You pour. Just a little for pops, just cover the bottom."
Noonan took his time pouring. Thoeld man sat in thseame position,
staring at the wall. And he did not react when Noonan moved his glass closer
to himN.
oonan had already adjusted to the neswituation. It was a game,
terrible and pathetic. Red was playing the game, and he joined in, as he had always joinedother peoples' gamesall hislife-terrifying ones, pathetic
ones, shameful ones, and ones much mdoarnegerous than this. Redrick raised
his glass and said: "Well, I guess we're off?" Noonan looked over at the old man in caompletely natural manner. Redrick impatiently clinkheids glass

againstNoonan's and said: "We're off, we're off."Then Noonan nodded, completely naturally, and they drank.
Redrick, eyesshining, began to talk in hisexcited and slightly artificial tone.
"That's it, brother! jail will never see me again. If you only knew how goodit is to be home; I have the doughI'vaendpicked out a newlittle
cottagefor myself, with a garden--as good as Buzzard's place. You kInow,
had wanted to emigratIe,haddecided when was still in jail. I mean, what was I sitting in this lousy two-bit town for? I thought, let the whole place
drop dead. So I get back, and there's a surprise for me--emigration has been forbidden! Have we suddenly become plague-ridden during the last two years?"
He talked and talked, and Noonan nodded,sipped his whiskey, and
interjectedsympathetic noises and rhetorical questions. Thehne started
askingabout the cottage--whatkind was itw,
here was itw, hat did it
cost?--andthen they argued. Noonan insisted that the cottage was expensive
and inconveniently located. He took
hoiustaddress book, flippedthrough
it, and named the locations of abandoned cottages that were being sold for a song. Andthe repairs would baelmost free,because hecould apply for
emigration, be turned dowann, d suefor compensation, which would pafyor the repairs.
"I see that you're involved in nonemigration, too."
"I'm involved in everything a little," Noonan replied with a wink. "I know, I know, I've heard all about your affairs."
Noonan puton awide-eyed look of surpriser,aised his finger to his pursed lips, and nodded in the direction of the kitchen.
"All right, don't worry, everybody knows about it," Redrick said.

"Money never stinksI.
know that for sure now. But getting Mosul to be
your manager. I almost foenll the floor laughinwg hen I heard! Lettinag
bull intothe chinashop. He's a psyche, you know. I've known him since we were kids."
He fell silent and looked at the old man. A shucdrodsesred his face, andNoonan was amazed to see the look of real, sincere lovtenadnedrness on that tough freckled mug of his.
Watching him, Noonan rememberedwhat had happenedwhen Boyd'slab workers showed up here ftohre moulage. There were two lab assistants, both strong young men, athletes and all that, and a doctor from the city hospital withtwo orderlies, toughand rough burly guys used tolugging heavy
stretchers and overpowering hysterical patienOtsn. e of the lab assistants later told himthat "that redhead" at first didsne'tem to understand what
was going on, because he let them intoaptahretment to examine his father.
They probably woulhdave gotten the old man away, because it lookeidf as Redrickthought that theywere puttinghis oldman in thehospital for observation. But the stupid orderlies, who had stpheenirt timeduring the
preliminarynegotiations gawking at Guta washing thekitchen windows,
grabbed the old man like a log when they were called
dinr-o-papnedd him on
the floor. Redrick wecnrtazy. Then the jerk of a doctovrolunteered an explanation of what was going on. Redrick listefonreda minute or twaond
suddenly exploded without any warning like a hydrogen bomb The assistant who told the story did not remember how he ended up on the street. The red devil
got themall down the stairs, all five of them, and not one lefthiusnder
ownpower. They allshot out of the foyer like cannonballs. Tewndoed up

unconsciouson thesidewalk andRedrick chased theother three for four blocks.Then he returned and basheind all the windows on thienstitute
car--the driver had made a run for it when he saw what was happening. "I learned how to makeneaw cocktail at this bar," Redrick was saying
ashe poured more whiskey. "It's callWeditches' Jelly, I'll make you one later, after we've eaten. Brother, it's snoomtething you should have on an empty stomach--it's dangerous to the health: dorninek makesyour arms and
legsnumb. I don't care what you say, Dick, I'm going to treraotyaylolyu
today. We'll remember the gooldd days andthe Borscht. Poor old Ernie is
still in the cooler, you know that?" He drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his hanadnd casually asked: "What's new thaet institute? Have they
tackled witches' jelly yet? You know, sort of fell behind science a bit." Noonan understood whyRedrick was bringing up thtoepic. He threwup
his hands in dismay.
"Are you kidding? Diydou know what happened with that jelly? Have you heard of the Currigan Labs? There's this little private supplier.. . So they got themselves some jelly...."
He told him about the catastrophe. And about the shockfinacgt that
they never tied up the loose ends, never foouutndwhere the lab had gotten it. Redrick listened, Feigning distraction, clucking his tongue, and shaking his head. He decisively splashed more whiskey into their glasses.
"That's what they deserve, the bloodsuckers. I hope they all choke."
They drank. Redrick looked over at his father and a shudder crossed his face once more.
"Guta!" heshouted. "Are you gointgo starve us muchlonger? She's
knocking herself out for you, you know," heNtoooldnan. "She wants to make

your favorite salad, with crabmeat. She bougshutppaly a while ago just in case youturned up. Well, how are things at the institute in general? Found anything new? I heyarou have robots working full force but not getting too much out of it."
Noonan started in on institute businesasn, d while hewas talking, Monkey appeared noiselessly tahte tableby the old manS.he stood there with her hairy paws on the table andintheanperfectly childlike way, she
leaned against the moulage and put her hoenadhis shoulder. Noonan went on chatting but thought, as he looked at those two horrors born of the Zone: My God,what else? What else has to be done tboefuosre we understand? Isn't
this enough? But he knew that it wasn't. He knew that millions upon millions of people knew nothing and wanttoedknow nothing, anedven if they found outwould ooh andaah for five minutesand then goback to their own
routines. It was time to hgeo,thoughtwildly. The hell with Bur- bridge, the hell with Lemchen, and the hell with this goddamned family!
"What are you staring at them for?" Redrick asked softly. "Don't worry, it won't harm her. They even say that they generate good health."
"Yes, I know," Noonan said and drained his glass.
Guta came in, ordereRd edrick to set the table, and set a large silver bowl with Noonan's favorite salad on the table.
"Well, friends," Redrick announced. "Now we're gotionghave ourselves a feast!"
4. REDRICK SCHUHART, AGE 31

The valley had cooled overnight, and by dawn it was actually cold. They were walking along the embankment, stepping over the rotten ties between the rustyrails, and Redrick watched the drops of condensed fgolgisten on ArthurBurbridge's leather jacket. Thbeoy was striding along lightly and
merrily, as though the exhausting night, the nervous tension that still made every veinin his body ache, and the two horrible hours sptheenyt huddled
back to back for warmth in a tortured half-sleep on top of the hill, waiting for the flooodf thegreen stuffto drip past them and disappear into the
ravine--as though all that had not happened.
A thickfog lay along thseides of the embankment. Once in a while it crawled up on the rails withheiatsvy gray feet and itnhose places they walked knee-deep in the swirling miTsths.e air smelled of rust, antdhe swampto the right ofthe embankmentreeked ofdecay. Thefog madeit impossible to see anything, but Redrick knew that aplhaiilnlywith rubble
heapssurrounded them,and that mountainshid in the gloom beyond. And he knew also that when the sun cameanudp the fog settleidnto dew, he would seethe downed helicopter some where on hleifst and the ore flatcars up ahead. And then the real work would begin.
Redrick slipped his hand up under the backpaclkift tiot so that the edge of the heliutmank would not dig into hspisine. It's a heavy bugger,
he thought. How am I going to crawl with it? A mile on all fours. All right, stalker, no grumbling now, you knew what you were getting into. Five hundred thousandat the end of theroad. Ican workup a sweatfor that. Five
hundred thousand sure is a sweet bundle. I'll be damned if I give it to them for less. Or if I give Buzzard more than thirty. And the punk? The punk gets
nothing. If the obldugger hadtold evenhalf the truth, the punk gets

nothing.
He looked at Arthur'bsack again and watched through squinted eyases
theboy stepped over twtoies at atime, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped. His dark raven hailrik, e his sister's, bounced rhythmicallHy.e asked for it,Redrick thought grimly. Himself. Why did hbeeg to comealong so persistently!So desperately! He trembled anhdad tears in his eyes. "Take me, Mr. Schuhart! Lots of people have offered to takaelonmge, but they're
all no good! My father ... but he can't take me now!" Redrick forced himself to drop the memory. He was repelled by the thaonudghmt aybe that'swhy he startedthinking aboutArthur's sister. He jusctould notfathom it: how
such a fantastic-looking woman could actually be a plastic fake, a dummy. It was like the buttons on his mother's blouse--they were amber, he remembered, semitransparent, and golden. He just wanted to shove itnhehmis mouthand
suck on them, and every time he was disappointed terribly, and every time he forgotabout the disappointment --not forgot, just refusteod accept what
his memory told him.
Maybe it was his pop who sent him toovemr e, he thought about Arthur.
Look at the piece he's carrying in his back pocket. Nah, I doubt it. Buzzard knowsme. Buzzard knows that I don't go for jokes. hAe nkdnows whatI'm
like in the Zone. No, that's all nonsense. He's not the first to have begged me, andnot the firstto haveshed tears; others even gdoot wn on their
knees. And afsor the piece, they all bring guns on their first time in the
Zone. The first and last time. rIesalilty the last? It'ysour last, bud.
Here's how it works out, Buzzard: his last. Yes, if you knew what your sonny boywas planning --youwould have beaten him to a pulp with your crutches.

Hesuddenly felt that there was something aheaodf them--not far,some thirty or forty yards away.
"Stop," he told Arthur.
The boy obediently froze in his tracks. His reflexes were good-- he had stoppedwith one foot itnhe air, and he lowered it slowly caanrdefully. Redrickstopped next to him. The track dipped noticeably here and disappearedcompletely in the fogA. nd there was something inthe fog.
Something big and motionless. Harmless. Redrick care fully sniffeadir.the
Yes. Harmless.
"Forward," he said quietly. He waited for Arthur to take a step and he followed. Out otfhe corner of hiseye he could see Arthur'fsace, his
chiseled profile, the clear skin of his cheek, and the determined set of his
lips under the thin mustache.
They were up to their waists in
afongd, then up to their necks. A few
seconds later the great hulk of the ore cars loomed ahead of them. "That's it,"Redrick saidand took off his backpack. "Sit down right
where you are. Smoke break."
Arthur helped himwith the backpack, antdhey sat down nextto each
other on the rusty raiRlse.drick unbuttoneda flap and took out a package withsandwiches and a thermos of coffee. While Arthur set up the sandwiches on top of the backpack, Redrick tookhiosutflask,opened it,closed his
eyes, and took several slow sips.
"Want some?" he offered, wiping the neck of the flask. "For courage?" Arthur shook his head, hurt.
"I don't need that for courage, Mr. SchuhIa'drt.rather havecoffee,
if I may. It's awfully damp here, isn't it?"

"It's damp." He put awaythe flask, chosea sandwich,and set to chewing."When the fog lifts, you'll see that wesu'rrerounded by nothing but swamps. In the old days the mosquitoes were something fierce."
He shut up and poured himself some coffee It was hot, thick, and sweet,
and itwas evennicer to drinknow than alcohol. It smelled of homOef.
Guta. And not just of Guta, buGt uotaf
in her robe, fresh from sleep, with
pillow marks still on her cheek. Why did I get mixed up in this, he thought? Five hundred thousand. And what do I need it for? Planning to buy a bar with it or somethingY? ou need money so yoduon't haveto think aboutmoney.
That's the truth. Dick was riagbhot ut that. You have haouse, you have a yard, you won't he withoujtoba in Harmont.Buzzard trapped me, lured me like a tenderfoot.
"Mr. Schuhart," Arthur suddenly said, looking away "Do yorueally believe this thing grants wishes?"
"Nonsense!" Redrick muttered distractedly and froze over the nceuapr his lips. "How do you know what we're after here?"
Arthur smiled in embarrassment, ran his fingersthrough his hair, tugged at it, and spoke.
"Well, I guessed! I don't remember exactly what gave me the clue. Well,
firstof all, Father was always going on and on about the GoldeanndBall,
lately he's stopped. And he has been talking about you. And know betterthan to believe Father about youbeing friends. And
secondly, he's beeknind of strange lately.A" rthur laughedand shook his
head, remembering something. "And finally, I figured it out, when you and he tried out the little dirigibolveer in the lot." Hsemacked thebackpack

that contained thteightly rolled balloon. "I followeydou and whenI saw
you lift the bawgith rocks and guide it over the ground, it wcalseaarll
to me. As far as I know, the Golden Ball is the only heavy thing left in the Zone." He took a boituet of his sandwich and spoke dreamily with his mouth full. "I just don't Understand how you tpolahnookonto it, it's probably
smooth."
Redrick watched him over the rim of the cup and thought how unlike each other they were, father and son. They had absolnuotethlying in common. Not
face, or voice, or soul. Buzzard had a hoarse, whiny, sneakoyf kvionidce. Butwhen hetalked about this, his voicwe as hearty. You couldn't ignore
him. "Red," he had said then, leaning over the table. "There are only two of us left, and ontlwy o legs for both, and they're youWrsh. o else but you?
It's probably the most valuable thingthein Zone! And whsohould have it?
Should those wise guys with their machinery get it? Hah? I found it. Me! How many of our boys fell there? But I found it! I was saving it for myself. And
I wouldn't be giving itantoyone now, but as yosuee, my arms have gotten too shortT. here's nobody leftbut you. Idragged lotsof young ones in there, aschool full. I opened a school for them, you stheey..c.an't.
They don't havtehe guts for it, or something. All right, you don't believe
me, I don't care. You want the money. You get it. You give me as much as you want. I know you won't gyp me. mAanydbe I'll be ablteo get my legs back.
My legs, dyoou understand? The Zone took them away, and maiyt'lblegive them back?"
"What?" Redrick asked, coming out of his reverie. "I asked, do you mind if I smoke, Mr. Schuhart?"
"Sure. Go ahead and smoke. I'll have one too."

He gulpedthe rest ofthe coffee, pulled ouat
cigarette, and as he
squeezed it, he gazed into the thinning fog. A psyche, he thought He's nuts. He wants his legs back, the bastard.
All this talk had leftreasidue, he was nosture of what. And it was
not dissolving with time, bount the contrary, it was accumulating. Ahned
could not understand what it was, but it was bothering him. It was as though he hadcaught something fromBuzzard, not some disgustindgisease, but on
the contrary ..hi.s strength, perhaps?No, not strength. But whtahten?
Allright, he told himself. Let's look at it this way: let's assume that I
didn't gethis far.I was all ready
gtoo, packed, and thensomething
happened, they arrested me, saWy.ould thatbe bad? Definitely. Why bad? Because I would losmeoney? No, it has nothing dto with themoney. That
thistreasure will fall intothe hands of Throaty andBones? There's
something in that. It would hurt. But wdohaIt
care?In the end, they'll
get it all anyway.
"Brrrrrr." Arthur shivered. "It gets inytoour bones.Mr. Schuhart, maybe now you'll give me a sip?"
Redrick got the flask silently. I didn't agree
ariwghaty, he thought.
Twenty timesI told Buzzard to get lost, and ontwtheenty-first I agreed, after all. I couldn't take it any mOourer. last conversation turned out to
be brief and businesslike. "Hi, Red. I broughmt athpe. Maybe you'll take a
lookat it, after all?" And I looked into his eyaensd,
they werelike
sores--yellow with black dots--and I said "Let me have it." And that was it. I remember that I wdarsunk then,I hadbeen drinking all weekI, felt
really low. Ah, the hell with it. Does it mIatwteer?nt. So here I am. Why

am I worrying about it? What am I, afraid?
He shuddered. He could hear a long sad sound through the fog. He jumped up and Arthur jumped up too. But it was aqguainet, and the only sound was
the gravel tumbling down the incline under their feet.
"Must be the ore settling," Arthur whispeurendsurely, barely able to
get the words ou"tT. he orecars have ahistory--they've been here a long time."
Redrick looked straight ahead and saw nothing. He remembered. It was at night.He woke up from the same sound, sad and lhoinsgh,eart stopping,
like in a dream. Only it hadn't been a dream. It was Monkey screaming in her bed by the window. Guta woke up, too, and took Redrick's hand. He could feel thesweat break outon her shoulder against hisT. hey lay there and
listened, and when Monkey stopped crying and went back to sleep, he waited a
little longer, then got uwpe, nt down to the kitchen, and greedily draank
half-bottle of cognac, That was the night he started drinking. "It's the ore," Arthur said. "You know, ist ettled with time. The
dampness, erosion, all kinds of things like that."
Redrick looked at his pale face asnadt down againH.
is cigarette had
disappeared somewhere from his fingers, and he lit another one. Arthur stood a little longer, looking around anxiously, then he also sat down.
"I've heardthat there's life itnhe Zone. People. Novtisitors, but people. It seemtshe Visitationcaught them here, and they mutated .... they've acclimatedto the new conditionsH. ave you heardthat, too, Mr. Schuhart?"
"Yes," Redrick said. "But not here.thIen mountains in the northwest.
Some shepherds.

That's what he's infected mweith, he thought. His madness. That's why I've come hereT. hat's what Iwant here. Astrange and very new feeling overwhelmed him. Hwe as aware that the feeling wraesally notnew at all, that iht ad been hidden in him for a long time, but that he was
acknowledgingit only now,and everything was falling into place. And everything thaht ad seemedlike nonsenseand the deliriousravings of a
crazyold man turned out to be his only hope, the only meaning of his life. Because he finally understootdh:e only thing he had left in the world, the onlything he lived for in the last few mowntahssthe hope of a miracle.
Fool thathe was, hekept pushing hope away, trampling on it, mocking it, trying to drink it awabye,cause thatwas the way hwe as used toliving. Sincechildhood he had relieodn nothing but himself. And sinccheildhood
this self-reliance had been measured in the amount of money he could snatch, grab, orbite away from the indifferecnht aos thatsurrounded him. It had
always been that way, and it would have continued, if he had not ended up in ahole that noamount of money coulgdet himout of and iwn hich it was
absolutely useless to rely on himself. And now this hope--no lohnogpeer, a
butconfidence in a miracle --filled him to the barnimd , he was amazed at how he could have lived for so long in the impeneetxraitbleles,s gloom. He laughed and gave Arthur a poke in the shoulder.
"Well, stalker, think we'll live through this, eh?"
Arthur looked at himin surprise andsmiled uncertainly. Redrick crumpledup the waxed paper fromthe sandwiches, tossed it undtehre ore car, and lay down, his elbow on the backpack.
"All right," he said". Let's say that the Golden Ball really--what

would you wish?"
"You mean, you do believe?" Arthur asked quickly. "That's not important whether or not I believe. You answer my
question."
He really was interesteidn whatsuch a young boy, sachoolboy just yesterday, could asokf the GoldenBall, He enjoyed watching Arthur frown, tug at his mustache, and look up at him and look away.
"Well, dad's legs, of course. Anfdor everything tobe all right at home."
"You're lying," Redrick said pleasantly. "Ketehpis in mindb, rother.
The Golden Ball only grants your deepest, innermost wishes, the kind that if they're not granted, it's all over for you!"
Arthur Burbridge blushedl,ooked up at Redricoknce more, andbecame even redder. His eyes filled with tears. Redrick grinned.
"I understand,"he saidalmost gently. "All right, it's nonoef my
business. Keep your secrets to yourself." He suddenly remembered the gun and thought that while he had the timeshohueld take care of whatever could be
taken care of. "What's that in your back pocket?" he asked casually. "A gun."
"What do you need it for?"
"To shoot!" Arthur said challengingly.
"Forget it," Redricksaid firmlyand sat up. "Give it heTreh.ere's nobody to shoot at in the Zone. Give it to me.
Arthur wanted to saysomething, butkept silent,took the Army Colt
from his pocket and handed it to Redrick by the barrel. Redrick took the gun by its warm textured handle, tossed it up in the air, and caught it.

"Do you have a handkerchief or something? I want to wrap it up." He took Arthur's handkerchiefc, lean and smelling of cologne, wrapped
the gun in it, and put it on the railroad tie.
"We'll leave it herfeor now. God willing, we'll come back and pick it up.Maybe we'll have toshoot itout with the patrolguards. However, shooting it out with them.... Arthur decisively shook his head.
"That's notwhat I wanted it for," shaeid sadly."There's onlyone bullet. In case of an accident like Father's."
"So, that's it."Redrick stared at him. "Well, you don't have to worry
about that. If that should happen, I'll drag you back here. I promise. Look, it's getting light!"
The fog was disappearing before their eyes. It was completely gone from
the embankment and in the distance it was thinning, melting away and showing therounded bristly peaksof the hills. Here and there betwetheen hills
couldbe seen the mottledsurface of the stagnant swamps, coverewdith sparsethickets of willows, and the horizon, beyothned hills, wasfilled
with bright yellow explosions of mountain peaks, andskytheabove them was clear and blue. Arthur lookbeadck and gasped with awe. Redrick looked too. In theeast themountains lookedblack, and over themthe familiar green
wash of color billowed and shone iridescently--the Zone's green dawn. Redrick got up, wentbehind the ore cars,at on the embankment, and
watched as thgereen wash dimmed and quicklyturned topink. Thesun's orange rim came up ovthere ridge, and purpleshadows stretched from the hills. Everything became harsahnd inhigh relief, he could see things as
clearly as if they were in the palm of his hand. Right in front, two hundred

yards away, Redricskaw the helicopter. It had fallen, apparently, into the middle of a mosquito mange spot, andfusietslage had beensquashed into a metal pancakeI.ts tail had remained intact, only slightly bent, and it
stuck outover the glade like a black hook. The stabilizer waswhalosloe,
and it squeaked distinctly, turning in the light breeze. The mange must have beenvery powerful, for there hadn't evbeenen a real firea,nd the Royal
AirForce insignia was very clear on the flattenmeedtal. Redrick had not seen one in many yeansd had almostforgotten what theinsignia looked like.
Redrick went back to hpisack for the mapw, hich he spread out on the hot mound oofre in the car. You couldn't see the quarry hfreorem--it was blockedby thehill with the burned-out tree on its riHsee. hadto go
around the hill from the right, along the depression between it and the next hill, which he could also see, completely bare, its slope covered with brown rocks.
All the reference points corresponded, but Redrick felt no satisfaction.His instinct of many years as a stalker protested against the very thought, which wairsrational and unnatural, olfaying a path between two nearby elevations. Arlilght, Redrickthought, we'll see about that
later. It will be clearer when we get there. The path befdoerperethsseion
led through the swamp, along open flat ground, which seemed safe enough from here. But looking closer, Redrick noted a dark gray spot between the two dry
hills. He looked at tmheap. There was an
tXhere, and it said "Whip" next
to it in clumsy letteTrsh.e red dotted line of tphaeth went to the right
of the )i. The name was sort of familiar, but who Whip was exactly, and what helooked like, and whahte did,Redrick could not remember. For some

reason, Redrick could only remember the smoky room of the Borschtr,edhuge
pawsholding glasses, thundering laughter, and open jaws filled with yellow teeth--a fantasticherd of titans and giants gathered at the watering hole,
one of his most striking childhood memories--his first visit to the Borscht. Whathad I brought that time? An empttyh,inIk. Straightfrom theZone,
wet, hungry, crazy, withsaack over my shoulder, I burst itnhteo bar and clattered thesack on thecounter in front ofErnest, looking around
angrily, listening to the wisecracks, waiting for Ernest--yothuenng and in
a bow tie, as usual --to count the right amofougnrteenbacks. No, wait, it wasn'tgreen back then,we still hadthe square royalbills with some
half-naked dame wearinag cape and a wreath. I waited, put awaymothneey, and unexpectedlye, ven for myself, tooka heavymug from the counter and slammedit intothe closest laughingface. Redrick smirked antdhought:
maybe that was Whip himself?
"Is itall rightto go betweenthe two hills, Mr. Schuhart?" Arthur
asked in a low voice nheiasrear. He was next to him looking at the map, too.
"We'll see when wgeet there." Redrick kept looking thaet
map. There
were two other X's, one on the slope of the hill with the tree, the other on the rocksP. oodle and Four-eyes. Thpeath wasmarked below them."We'll
see," he repeated, folding up the map and putting it in his pocket. He looked Arthur over.
"Put the backpack on my back. We'lllikgeo before," he said, shifting
under the weight of the pack and arranging the straps more comfortably. "You go aheads, o that call seyeou every second. Don't look back and keep your

ears open. My order is law. Keep in
tmhaint dwe'll have laot of crawling
to do, dons'tuddenly be afraid of thdeirt. If I teyllou to, drop your
face into the mud without any backtalk. And button your jacket. Ready?" "Ready." Arthur was very nervous;the rosiness of his cheekshad
disappeared.
First we gothis way." Redrickwaved sharply in the direction tohfe nearest hill a hundred steps from the rocks. "Got it? Let's go."
Arthur heaved a sigh, stepped over the rails, and started down sideways from the embankment. The pebbles rained after him noisily
"Easy, easy," Redrick said. "There's no hurry."
He started down slowly afterhim, automatically adjustinghis leg
musclesto the weighot f the heavy backpack. Hweatched Arthur out of the corner of his eye. Hsec'sared, he thought. He must senist.e If his sense
is like his father's, he does. If you only knew how things were turning out, Buzzard. If you only knew, Buzzard, that I took your advice this time. "This is one placeR, ed, that you can't go to alone. Like it oyr onuo'llt, have
totake somebody with you. I can give youone of my people who's
expendable."You talked meinto it. It's the firtsimt
e in my life that I
agreed to something like this. Wmelal,ybe it wiltlurn out all right, he thought. Maybes, omehow, it will work out.After all,I'm notBuzzard Burbridge, maybe I'll figure something out.
"Stop!" he told Arthur.
The boy stopped ankle-deep in rusty water. By the time Redrick got down to him, the quagmire had sucked him in up to his knees.
"Do you see that rock?" Redrick asked. "There, under the hill? Head for
it."

Arthur moved on. Redrick let him get ten paces ahead and then followed. The mud slurped underfoot. It was a dead swamp--no bugs, noevfreongsth, e willows were dry anrdotten. Redrick looked around, but fnoorw everything
seemed to bien order. The hill slowly got closer, covering thewshuinch,
was stillow in the sky, and finallbylocking the entireastern sky. At
the rock, Redrick looked back at the embankmItenwt.as brightly lit by the
sun. A train of toerne cars stood oil
Sit.ome of the cars had fallen off
the tracks and were lying on their sides, and the embankmentthaebmovewas covered with the rusty red piles of the ore. Further on, in the direction of thequarry, north ofthe train, the air overthe track shimmered and
undulated, and tiny rainbows exploded and died in the air. Redrick looked at the shimmer, spat, and turned away.
"Let's go,"he said. Arthur turned his tensfaece to him. "See those
rags over there? You're looking the wrong way! Over there, to the right." "Yes," said Arthur.
"Well, that was a guy called Whip. A long time ago. He didn't listen to his elders and now he lies theroerdiner toshow smart people theright
way. Look justto the right of Whip. Got it? See the spot? Right twhehere
willows are a little thicker. That's the way. You're off!"
Now theywere moving parallel tothe embankment. Every step brought them toshallower water, and soon they were walkingon dry, springy hillocks. The map stsilhlowed this as solid swamp. Tmheap's old, thought Redrick, Burbridge hasn't beehnere in a long time, and it's gottenofout
date. That's bad. Of course, it's easier to walk olannd,rybut it would
havebeen better for that swamp to hbeere. Look at Arthur go, he thought.

He's walking like he's strolling down Central Avenue.
Arthur seemed to have perked up and
walsking full speed. He had one
hand in his pocket and whaes swinging the otheras if ouot n a stroll.
Redrick rummaged in his pocket, took out a bolt weighing an ounce or so, and threw iat t his head. The bolt hit Arthur in the back hoefadth.eThe boy
gasped, grabbedhis head, crouched,and fellinto the dry grass. Redrick stood over him.
"That's how it comeosut here, Artie," he pontificated. "This isn't an
avenue, we're not on paromenade here, yokunow. Arthur got up slowly. His face was drained white.
"Everything clear?" Redrick asked. Arthur gulped and nodded. "Fine. And next time I'll let you have it in the teeth. If you're still
alive. Go ahead!"
The boy couldhave made a stalkera,fter all, thoughtRedrick. They probably would havcealled him Pretty Boy ArtiWe. e used tohave another
PrettyBoy, hisname was Dixon, but now they called
Hhiammster. The only
stalker to fall into tmheeatgrinder and live. He was lucky. The fool still
thinks thaitt was Burbridge who pulled him out of it. The hell he did! You
don'tget pulled out of the meatgrindHere.
did pull him out of Zthoene,
that's true enough Burbridge performed a heroic deed like that. If he hadn't
... !Everybody was getting fedup with his tricks, and the guys had told him: youbetter not come back if you come back aloTnhea.t was when they began calling him Buzzard, before they used to call him Winner.
Redrick felt a barely perceptible current of aihr isonleft cheek and immediately, without thinking, he shouted: "HaHlt!e" extended hishand to
theleft. The current was stronger. Somewhere between them andthe

embankment there waas mosquito mange, or maybe itextended along the embankment itself: there was a reaswohny the cars had tilteodver. Arthur stood as though he had been planted, he did not even turn around.
"To the right. Let's go."
Yes, he would have made a good stalker. What the hell, dosoIrryfeel
for him or something? That's Ialnleed. Did anyone ever feel sorry for me?
I guess they did. Kirill
sfeolrtry for me. Dick Noonan feels sorry for me.
Of course, he might be more interested in Guta than in feeling sorry for me,
but onedoesn't necessarily rule outht e other. OnlyI don't get to feel
pity.My choiceis always either/orH.
e finally understood the choice:
either this boy, omry Monkey. There was no real choicew, aist
clear.If
only miracles did happen, some voice said inside, and he repressed the voice with horror
They went aroundthe mound of grayrags. There was nothing left of
Whip.Some distance away in the dry grass laaylong, completely rusted
stick--a minesweeper. In those days many stalkers used mine sweepers, buying themup on the quiet from army suppliers, and depended on them ltihkee on
LordGod himself, andthen twostalkers were killedwithin a few days, killedby undergroundexplosions. And that put aennd to it. Who had this Whip been? Did Buzzard brihnigm hereor had he come on his own? Wwheyre
theyall drawn to this quarryW? hy hadn't I heard anything about it? Damn
it,it's hot! And this sios
early in the morning, I cimanagine whatit
will be like later.
Arthur, walking five pacesahead, wiped the sweatfrom his brow. Redrick squinted up at the siutnw; asstill low. And suddenly he realized

that the dry grass was not rustling underfoot but squeaking like cornstarch, and it was no longer stiff and bristly, but soft and crumbly--it was falling apart undertheir shoes, likeflakes of soot. Andhe saw Arthur's clear
footprints, andhe threw himselfdown on the ground, shouting":Hit the dirt!"
He fell facedown into thegrass, and iturned into dust under his cheek.He gnashed histeeth in anger ovetrheir badluck. He lay there tryingnot to move, still hoping thawt oituld blow over, even thoughe realized that they were trapped. Thheeat was increasing,over- whelming
him, enveloping his body liakesheet soaked in boiling water. Sweat poured into his eyes, and Redrick shoubteedlatedly toArthur: "Don't move!Bear
it!" And he started bearing it himself.
He wouldhave withstood it, and everything wouhladve passed quietly
and well, they would have gotten by with a lot of sweat, but Arthur couldn't take it. Either he had not heard Redrick's shout, or he became scared out of his wits, or maybe, he had been baked more strongly than Redrick--ahneyway
lostcontrol and ranoff blindly, with a screamdeep in histhroat, following his instinct--backwardT,he very directionthey couldn't take. Redrickbarely managed to rise and grab ahniksle withboth hands. Arthur felldown withthe full weight of-his bodrya,ising a cloud of ashes,
squealedin an unnatural voice, kicked Redrick in the face withothheirs
foot, and strugglewd ildly. Redrick, not thinking clearalyny more through
the pain, crawled on top of him, touching the leather jacket with his burned face, tryingto pressthe boy into the ground, holding his long whiathir
both hands andesperately kicking his feeatnd knees at Arthur's legs and
his rear end anadt the dirt. He could barely hear the muffled moans coming

from beneath him and his own hoarse shouts:
"Lie there,you toad, lie still, or kI'illll you."Tons and tons of
hot coalswere pouringover him,and his clothing was in flames atnhde leather ofhis shoes and jacket was blistering acnradcking, andRedrick,
his head mashed inthoe grayash, his chest trying to keep the damn boy's head down, could not stand it. He yelled his lungs out.
He did not remember when it all ended. He understood only that he could
breathe again, thatthe air was air agaiann, d notsteam that burned his
throat, andhe realizedthat they had to hurry and get foroumt
under the
devilish heat before it came crashing down on them again. He got off Arthur, who was lying perfectly still, tucked both his legs under one arm, and using his freearm, crawled forward, never taking his eyes off the line where the grassstarted again. It wadsead, prickly, dry, butit was real and it
seemed like the greatest source of life in the world. The asghreisttyfelt
in his teeth, his burnt face gave off heat, and theposuwredt right into
his eyes, probably becaushee no longer had eyebrows eoyrelashes. Arthur was stretched out behind, his jacket seemtoingcatch on teovery possible place. Redrick'sparboiled hands ached, and the backpakcekpt bumping into his burned neckT.he pain and lacokf air madeRedrick think that hwe as completely burnedand that he would not makiet. The fear made him work harderwith his elbow and his knees. just thgeerte, just alittle more,
come on, Red, come on, you can make it, like that, just a little more.... Then helay for a lontgime, his face anhdands inthe cold, rusty
water, luxuriating in the smelly, rotten coolness. He couldlahinavlieke
thatforever, buthe forced himself to get up hoisn knees, throw off the

backpack, crawl over tAorthur, who wasstill lying motionless some thirty
feet from thsewamp, and turnhim overon his back. Well, he used to be a
pretty boyA.
nd now thathandsome face was a dark grmayask ofbaked-on
blood and ash. Forfeaw seconds Redrick examinedwith dullinterest the ruts and furrows made in the mask--the tracks of stonessticaknsd. Then he
got upon his feet, picked up Arthur by the armpits, and dragged him to the water. Arthur was breathing hoarsely, moaning once in a while. Redrick threw himface down into thdeeepest puddleand fell down next to him, reliving
the pleasure otfhe wet, icycaress. Arthurgurgled, moved about, braced himself on his handasn, d raisedhis head. He was bug-eyed, uhnederstood
nothing and was greedily gulping air, coughing and spitting. Then he came to his senses. His gaze settled on Redrick.
"Phoo-oo-ey." He shook his head, scattering dirty drops of water. "What was that, Mr. Schuhart?"
"That was death," Redrick murmured and coughed.feHlte hisface. It
hurt. His nose was swollen, but his brews and lashes, strangely enough, were in place. And the skin on his hands remained intact, but red.
Arthur was also gingerltyouching his face. Now that the horrible mask
had been washed away, his face--also contrary to expectation --turned out to be all right. Thewreere a fewscratches, a bump on his forehead, and his
lower lip was split. But all in all, okay.
"I've never heard of anything like that," Arthur said looking back.
Redrick looked back too. There were many tracks on the gray ashy grass, and Redrick was amazed to see how short his terrible, endless path had been, when he crawled to save them from doom. It wastwoenty orthirty yards
from one edge of the burnt-out grass to the other, butblindnheisss and

fear he had crawled sionme wild zigzag, like a roach on a hot skillet, and thankGod he hadat least crawled in the rigdhitrection. He could have
gotten into the mosquito mange on the left, or he coulgdothteanveturned aroundcompletely. No, thatwould not have happenedto him, he was no greenhorn. Andif it had not been ftohrat fool, then nothing at all would have happenedh, e would havegotten blisters onhis feet--and that would have been it as far as injuries.
He lookedat Arthur. Arthurwas washing up, moaning as he touched the
sore spots. Redrick stooudp, and wincingfrom the pain of his clothoens
his burnt skin, walked to a dry spot and examined the backpack. The pack had reallytaken a beating. The top bucklheasd meltedand thevials in the
first-aidkit had burstto hell, anda dampspot reeked ofantiseptic. Redrick opened the pack and starpteicdking outthe slivers of glassand plastic, when he heard Arthur's voice.
"Thank you, Mr. Schuhart! You saved my life!"
Redrick said nothing. Thanks! You fell apart, and I had to rescue you. "It was my own fault. I heard your order to lie there, but I was really
scared,and when it got so hot--lIost my head. I'm very much afroafid
pain, Mr. Schuhart."
"Why don't you get up?" Redrick said without turning around toward him. "That was just a sample. Get up, what are you loafing around for?"
Wincing from the painof the pack on his burned shoulders, he put his
arms through the straps. It felt as though the skin on the burned places had wrinkled up. He was afraid of pwaians, he? Shove you and youprain! He
looked around. It was
railglht, they hadn't left the path. Now for the

hills with the corpses. The damn hills, just stood there, the lousy mothers,
sticking out like the devil's horannsd,
that damn depression between them.
Hesniffed the air. You damn depression, that's the reloaullsyy part. The toad.
"See that depression between the hills?" he asked. "I see it.
"Head straight for it. March!"
Arthur wiped his face with the back of his hand and moved on, splashing throughthe puddles. He waslimping and didnot look as straightand
well-proportioned as he habdefore. He was benotver andwas walking very carefully. There's another one I pulled out, thought Redrick. What does that make? Five? Six? And now I wonder why? He's no relation. I'm not responsible
for him. ListenR, ed, why did yosuave him? Youalmost gotit yourself
because of him. Now that my head is clear, I know why. It wasarvieght to
him, I can't manage without him, he's my hostage for Monkey. I didn't save a human being, I saved mmyinesweeper. My master key. Back there in the heat,
I nevergave it a second thought. I Pulled him out like he was my flesh and blood,and didn'teven think aboutabandoning him Even though I had
forgotten everything -- the master key Manodnkey. What doesthat mean? It means thatI really am a good guy, after all. That's what Guta insists, and
Kirill used to say, and what Richard is always babbling about. Some good guy they found! Drop it, he told himself. hYaovue to think first, and then use
your arms and legs. Got that straight? Mr. GNuicye. I have to save him for themeatgrinder, he thought coldly and clearly. We can getevpearsytthing except the grinder.
"Stop!"

The depression lay before them, and Arthur was alrestaadnyding there, looking at Redrick for orders. Tflhoeor of the depression was covered with arotten green slime that glinted oilily in the sunl.igAht steam rose
above it, gettintghicker between the hills, and nothing was visible beyond thirtyfeet. And it stank. "It'll really stinink there, butdon't you
chicken out. Arthur made a noise in the back of hisanthdrobaatcked away.
Redrick shook himself back to action, pulled from his pocket a wad of cotton soaked in deodorant, stuffed up his nostrils, and offered some to Arthur.
"Thanks, Mr. Schuhart. Isn't there a land route we could take?" Arthur asked in a weak voice.
Redrick silently took him bythe hair and turnedhis head in the
direction of the bundle of rags on the stony hillside.
"That wasFour-eyes," he said. "And on the
hleilflt, you can't see
from here, lies Poodle. In the same condition. Do you understand? Forward." The slimewas warm and sticky. At first they walked erect, waist- deep
in the slime. Luckily the bottom was rocky and rather even. But soon Redrick heardthe familiar rumble from bosthides. There was nothinogn the left
hill except the intense sunlight, but on the right slope, in the shade, pale purple lights were fluttering
"Bend low!" hewhispered and bent overhimself. ''Lower, stupid!''
Arthur bent over
finright, and a clap of thunder shattered theRaigirh.t
overtheir heads anintricate lightning boltdanced furiously, barely
visible against the bright sky. Arthur sat down, shoulder deep in the slime. Redrick, ears clogged by the noise, turned and saw a bright red spot quickly melting inthe shade amongthe pebbles and rocks, and there wanother

thunderclap.
"Forward! Forward!" he shouted, unable to hear himself. Now they were moving ina crouch, Indian file, only their heads
exposed. At every peal Redrick watched Arthur's
hloanirg stand on enadnd
could feel a thousand needlpeusncturing his face."For- ward!"he kept repeating."Forward!" He couldnot hear a thinagny more. Oncehe saw Arthur's profile, anhde sawhis terror-stricken eyesbulging out and his white bouncing lips anhdis green-smeared sweaty cheek. Then tlhigehtning beganstriking so low that thehyad to duck their headTs.he greenslime gummed his mouth, makinghaitrd to breathe. Gulping foairr, Redrick tore the cotton out of his nose and discovtehraetdthe reek was gone, that the airwas filled with the fresh, piercing oodforozone, and that thseteam wasgetting thicker, or maybe he was blacking out, andcohueld no longer
see eitherof the two hills. All he could see was Arthur's head sticky with green slime and the billowing clouds of yellow steam.
I'll getthrough, I'llget through, Redrick thoughth; is is nothing new. Mywhole life is like this. I'm stuck in afnildththere's lightning
over my head. It's nevbeeren anyother way. Where is all this gunk coming
from? You could go crazy from this much gunk in one place! Buzzard Burbridge didthis: hewalked through andleft this behindF. our-eyes lay onthe
right, Poodle on the left, and all so that Buzzardwcaolukldbetween them
and leave ahllis filthbehind. That's what you deservhee,
told himself.
Whoever walks behind Buzzard walks uphistoneck in filth. You didn't know that? There arteoo many buzzards, that's why there isan'stingle clean
place left.
Noonan's a fool: Redrick, Red, you violate the balance, you destroy the

order, you'reunhappy, Red, under any order, any system. Yonuo'rtehappy
under a bad one, you're not happy under a good one. It's people like you who keep us from having the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. What do you know, fatso? Where have yosueen a good system? When have you ever seen me aungdoeor d
system? He slipped oan stonethat turnedunder his foot, and fell in. He
surfaced and saw Arthur's terrified face right next to his. For a hseecond
felt a chill: he thought that he hadhilsoswt ay.But he hadnot gotten
lost. He realized immediately that they thoadgo that way, where the black top ofthe rock stuck out of the slime; he realized thattheovuegnh there
was nothing else visible in the yellow fog.
"Stop!" he shouted. "Keep right! To the right of the rock!"
He could not hear his own voice. He caughwt ituhp Arthur, grabbed his shoulder, andpointed: keepright ofthe rock and keep youhread down. You'll pay fotrhis, he thought. Arthudrove under at the rock, justaas
lightning bolt hit it, smashing it to smithereYeonus.'ll pay for thish,e
repeated, as he ducked under and worked furiously with his arms and legs. He could hear anothepreal ofthunder. I'll shake your souolsut of youfor
this! He haad fleeting thought: who do I mean? I don't know. But somebody has to pay fothris, and somebody will! Just wait, justmleet getto the
ball, when I get to the ball, I'm no Buzzard, I'll get what I want from you. When they finallyscrambled out onto drlyand that was coveredby
sun-heated pebbles, they wehrealf-deaf, turned inside ouat,nd staggering
and holding on to each other. Redrick saw the peeling pick-up truck, sagging onits axles, and he remembered ththaet y couldrest in the shade of the
truck.They crawled intothe shade. Arthur lay onhis back and began

unbuttoning hisjacket with limpfingers, and Redrick leanehdis backpack againstthe side of the truck, wiped his hands against the small rocks, and reached inside his jacket.
"And me, too." Arthur said. "Me too."
Redrick was surprised by the loudness of tbhoey's voice. He took a sip, shut hiesyes, and handed thfelask to Arthur. That's it, he thought
weakly. We got through. We
tghortough even this. And now, accounts payable
upon demand. Do you think tIhaftorgot? No way, I remember it Daoll. you think I'll thank you for letting me live anddronwont ing me? You get zilch from me. Thiiss the end for all of you, igt?etI'm notleaving any of
this. Fromnow on, I make all the decisioIn, sR. edrick Schuhart, being of
sound mindand body, wilml
ake all the decisions for everybody. And as for
all of you, buzzards, toads, Visitors, BoneQseusa, rterblads, bloodsuckers, green-backers, Throaties, in your suits and ticeles,an and fresh, with
your briefcasesand speeches and good deedasnd employment opportunities,
and your eternal batteries and eternal engines and mosquito manges and false promises--I'vehad enough, you've led me bthye nose long enoughA. ll my
life you've led mbey the nose, and I thought and bragged that I was living theway Iwanted to,fool, and all the timyeou were egging moen and
winking amongyourselves, and leading me bthye nose, dragging me, hauling me through jails anbdars. I've had it! He unsnapped the straps of the pack and took the Bask from Arthur.
"I never thought...."Arthur was saying withmeek disbelief in his voice. "I couldn't even imagine. I knaebwout deathand fire andall, of course, but something like that! How are we going to get back?"
Redrick was not listening. What that thing was saying no longer had any

meaning. Iht ad no meaning beforee,ither, but before it wa personat least. And now, it was laiktealking key, akey to open the way thtoe Golden Ball. Let it talk.
"If we get some water," Arthur said. "At least wash our faces. Redrick looked at him distractedly,saw thedisheveled and glued-
together hair, the facsemeared with drying slime wifthinger marks in it,
and all of him covered with a crust of oozing slime, and he felt no pity, no irritation,nothing. A talking key. He turned away. A dreary explaiknese,
anabandoned construction site, yawned before themI.t wascovered with broken bricks, prinkled with white dust, anhdighlighted by theblinding sun,which was unbearably white, hot, angry, and deTahde. far end of the quarry was visible from there --ablsliondingly white and at thdaitstance seemingly perfectlysmooth and perpendicular. The near enwdas markedby largebreaks andboulders, and there was the path down into the quarry, where theexcavator's cabin stood oultike a red splotch against the white
rock. That was the only landmark. They had to head for it, depending on dumb luck to guide them.
Arthur propped himself up, stuck his arm untdheer truck,and pulled out a rusty tin can.
"Look at that, MrS.chuhart," he said, livening up. "Father must have left this. There's more under there.
Redrick didn't reply. That'sa mistake, he thoughdt,ispassionately. Betternot thinkabout your fathernow, you'dbe better off notsaying anything.On the other hand, it doesn't matter. Gettingheupw, inced: his
clotheshad stuck to his body, to his burnsekdin, and nowsomething was

tearinginside, like a driedbandage pulling from a wound. Arthur also
groaned as he guopt ; he gave Redrick a martyred look. It was clear that he wanted to complain but that dhiden't dare. He only saidin a strangled
voice:
"Do you think I might have another sip, Mr. Schuhart?"
Redrick put the flask that he had been holding back under his shirt. "Do you see that red between the rocks?"
"I see it," Arthur said and shuddered. "Straight for it. Let's go."
Arthur stretched his arms, straightened hsihsoulders, grimaced, and said looking around:
"I wish I could wash up. Everything's sticking."
Redrick waited silently. Arthur looked haimt
hopelessly, noddeda, nd
was about to start when he stopped suddenly.
"The backpack. You forgot the backpack, Mr. Schuhart." "March!" Redrick ordered.
He did not want to explaoirnto lie, and there was no need. He would
go anyway. He had nowheerlese to go. He'd go. And Arthur went. He wandered on, hunched over, dragging his feet, trying to pick off the baked slime from
his facel,ooking small, scrawny, and forlorn, like a wsettray kitten.
Redrick walkedbehind him, and as sooans he stepped out of the shade, the sun searedand blinded him, and he shaded his ewyieths his hand andwas
sorry that he had not taken his sunglasses.
Every step raised a cloud owfhite dust, and the dussetttled on his
shoes and gave off an unbearable stench. Or rather, it camAe rftrhoumr, it was impossibleto walk behindhim. It tookhim a while to understand that

the stenchwas coming from himselfT. he odor was disgustingb,ut somehow familiar--that was the smell that filled the city on the days that the north
wind carried the smoke from the plant. And his father smelled that way, too, when he camheome, hungry,gloomy, with red wild eyes. ARndedrick would
hurryto hide in some faraway corner and watcfheairnas his father tore offhis work clothes and tossethdem to his motherp,ulled off hishuge,
wornshoes and shoved them on tfhloeor of the closet, and stalked tooff
the shower in his stocking feet, leaving sticky footprints. He would stay in the shower, grunting and slapping his body, for a long time, splashing water and muttering under his breath, uhnetil shouted so thatthe house shook:
"Maria! Are yoausleep?" He had towait until hisfather had washed and
seated himselfat the table, wherae pint bottlea,
bowl with thick soup,
and bottleof catsup wereready for him. Wait until he had slurped up all
the soup and started on the pork and beans, and then he could creep out into thelight, climb up on his lapa,nd ask which shopsteward and which
engineer he had drowned in vitriol that day.
Everything around him was white hot, ahnedwas dizzy from thceruel
dry heat, the exhaustioann, d the unbearable pain of his skin blistering at thejoints; it seemed to him, through the hot hazewtahsatenveloping his consciousness, thathis skin wascrying out to him, begging him for peace, for water, for coolness. The memories, worn to the point of unrecognizability, were crowding each otherhiisn swollenbrain, knocking
each otherover, blending, tumbling, mingling with the white hot world that was flaming before his half-closed eyes, and wtheerye all bitter, and they
all evoked self-pity or hatred. He tried to fighcthatohse, to summon from

the pastsome sweet mirage,a feelingof tendernessor cheerfulness. He squeezed out the fresh laughing face of Guta from the depthsmoemf ohriys ,
when she was still a girl, desired and untouched, and her face appeared, but
was immediatelyblanketed by rust and thetnwisted and deformedinto the
sullenface of Monkey, coveredwith coarse brown furH.
e struggled to
remember Kirill, that sainted man, his swift, sure movements, his laugh, his voice, whichpromised unheard-of marvelousplaces and times,and Kirill appeared; but then a silver cobweexbploded onthe sunand Kirill was no
more, and Throaty'usnblinking angelic eyes stared at Redrickp, oarcelain containerin his bigwhite hand....The dark thoughts festeringin his subconsciousknocked down the barrier his will tried to create and extinguished the little good that his memory contaiannedd,itseemed that there had never been anything good at all, only ugly, vicious faces.
And during all thistime, he never stopped beingstalker. Without realizing it, hreecorded somewhere inhis nervous systemthe essential information: that on the left, at a safe distance,wthaesreajolly ghost
over a pile of old planks--it was quiet, exhausted, and so the hell with it;
on the right there waaslight breeze, anda few stepslater he saw a
mirror-smooth mosquito mange, with maanryms, like a starfish-far awanyo,
danger--and right in its center, a flattened bird, a rare sight, since birds did notoften fly overthe Zone; andright by thepath therewere two
abandoned empties--apparently Buzzard had dropped them on the way back, fear is stronger thagnreed. He sawall of thisand took it into account, and
Arthur had only to stray a single foot from theifrorpRatehdrick's mouth to openand the hoarse warningto fly automaticallyfrom his throat. A
machine, he thought. You maademachine out of me. Tbhreoken rocks at the

edge ofthe quarry were gettingcloser, and he couldsee the fanciful designs made by rust on the cabin's red roof.
You fool, youB, urbridge, Redrick thought. You're clever, but you're a
fool. How could you have trusted me? You've known me for so long, you should knowme better than Iknow myself. You're getting old, thmaut st be it.
Gettingdumber. But what am I sayinIg'v, e been dealing with fools all my life. And then he picturBeduzzard's face when hediscovered that Arthur,
his sweet Artie, hoisne and only son, that his pride and joy had gone into theZone with Redafter Buzzard's legs,not some expendable punk. He picturedhis face and laughed. WheAn rthur turnedhis frightened face to
look at him, Redrick weonnt laughing and motionedhim on. And thetnhe facescrawled across his consciousness again likpeictures ona screen. Everything hadto be changed. Not one life or two lnivoetso, ne fate or two--every link in this rotten, stinking world had to be changed.
Arthur stopped at the steep descent inttohe quarry,froze inhis steps,straining to look downand into the distance, extendinhgis long
neck. Redrick joined him. But he did not look where Arthur was looking. Right at their feet throead into the quarry began, torn up many years
agoby the treads and wheels of heavy vehicTleos.the right waas white steep slopec, racked by the heat; the nesxlotpe was halfexcavated, and amongthe rocksand rubble stood baulldozer, its loweredbucket jammed impotently against the side of rtohaed. And,as was to be expected, there was nothing else to be seoennthe road,except for the black twisted stalactitesthat looked like fat candlehsanging from the jagged edgeosf
the slope, and a multitude of black splotches in the dust, as though someone

had spilled bitumenT.hat wasall thatwas left of them, it waseven
impossible to tell how many there had been. Maybe each splotch represented a person, or one of Buzzard's wishTehs.at one therewas Buzzard coming back
alive andunharmed from the basement of Complex #7. Tbhiagtger oneover therewas Buzzard getting thwe riggling magnet out of the Zounnescathed.
And that icicle was the luxurioDuisna Burbridge, who resembled neither her mother nor her father. And tshpaott there was Arthur Burbridge, unlike his father and mother, Artie, the handsome son, their pride and joy.
"We made it!" Arthur rasped deliriously. "Mr. Schuhart, we did make it, after all, right?"
He laughed a happy laugh, crouched down, and beat both fists as hard as he could on thgeround. His matted hair bounced ridiculously, andried
clumps of dirt fleiwn all directions. And only then did Redrick look up at
the ball. Carefully. With caution. With a hidden fear that it would turn out wrong--that it would disappoint him, evoke doubts, throwfrhoimm the cloud
that he had managed to scramble up on, and leave him to wallow in filth. It was not golden, it was maorecopper color, reddish, and completely
smooth, andit shone dully in the sun. It latyheatfootof the quarry's
far wallc, ozily ensconced amidthe pilesof accumulated rocks, and even from thadt istance, he couldsee howheavy and massiveit was,and how solidly it lay in its place.
There was nothing disappointing or doubt-inspiring about it,thbeuret
was nothing to inspire hope either. For some rehasisonf,irst thoughwt as that it wapsrobably hollowand that itshould be hot tothe touch from beingin the sunI.t obviously didnot glow withits own light andit
obviously was incapable of floating aunpd dancing in thaeir, the way so

many of thteales hadit. It lay where it had fallen. Maiyt bhead fallen
out of some monstrously hupgoecket or hadgotten lost, rolled away during
some game between some giants. It had not been carefully placed here, it had been left behindli,ttering upthe Zonelike allthe empties, bracelets,
batteries, and other rubbish remaining after the Visitation.
But at the same time, there wsaosmething about it, andthe longer
Redrick looked ait, the clearer it became that it was pleasant to look at
it, that hwe anted to go up
itto, to touch it, piatt, and suddenlythe
thought came to him that it would be good, probably, to sit down next to it, oreven better,to leanback againstit, close his eyes, and think,
reminisce, and maybe judsrteam and drowse and rest.... Arthujurmped up, tore open altlhe zippers onhis jacket, took it off, and threw it down
smack at his feet, raising a cloud of white dust. He was shouting something,
making faces and waving his arms, and then he put his hands behind his back,
and dancing a jig, headed down the slope. He was not looRkiendgricakt
any
more, he had forgotten Redrichke, had forgotten everything. Hwe as going downto make his wishes come true, the little secret wishaesbluosfhing
college student, of a boy who had never seen any money beyond his allowance, who had been beaten mercilessiflyhe had a whioff alcohol on his breath
when he came home, and who was being groombeed atofamouslawyer, and in thefuture, acabinet minister,and in the distant futurea, nd as his
greatest prospect--presidentR. edrick, squintinghis swolleneyes against
the blinding light, silently watched him go. He was cool andheckalnmew,
what was aboutto happen, andhe knew that he would not watch, bwutasit
still all right wtoatch, and he did, feeling nothing in particular, except

that deep inside a little wosrtmarted wrigglingaround and twisting its sharp head in his gut.
And the boykept walking down, dancing jaig, shuffling to hisown
beat, and the white dust rose from his heels, and he was shouting at the top ofhis lungs,clearly, joyously, and festively--eithera song or an
incantation--and Redrick thought that this was the first time in the history
of the quarry that a man went down there as though he were going to a party. And at first he did not listen to what his talking key was yelling, and then something clicked inside him and he heard:
"Happiness for everybody!... Free! ...As much asyou want! .. Everybody come here! . . . There's enofourgheverybody! Nobody wileave unsatisfied! ... Free! ... Happiness! ... Free!"
And then he was suddenly silent, as though a hugheadfisptunched him
in the mouth. And Redrick saw the transparent emptiness that was ilnurking
theshadow of the excavator's bucket grab him, throw him up in the air, and slowly slowly twist himlik, e ahousewife wringing herwash. Redrick had
timeto see one of his dusty shoes offafllhis jerkingleg and flyhigh
abovethe quarry. Then he turned away and sat down. There wasn't a single thought in his heaadn, d hehad somehow stopped sensing himself. Silence
hung heavy in the air, particularly behhiinmd, there on the roaTd.hen he rememberedthe flask, without particular joy, bjustt as medicine that it was time to take. He unscrewed the cap and drank wisthtintgiynysips, and for the firstitme in his life hweished that instead of liquor, tBheask
contained cold water.
Time passed, and more olress coherentthoughts cameto him.Well,
that's it, he thought unwillingly. The road is open. He could gorigdhot wn

now, but it was better, of coutrosew, ait a while. The meatgrinders can be tricky.Anyway, he had some thinking to doA. n unaccustomed exercise, thinking,that was the troubleW. hat was "thinking" anyway? Thinking meant finding aloophole, pulling a bluff, pulling thewool over someone's
eyes--but all that was out of place here.
All right. Monkey, his father.... Maktehem payfor that, steal the
bastards' soulsl,et the sons of bitches eat what I've been eating. ... No, that's not it, Red.... I mean, that is it, butdowehsaitt mean? What do I
need? That's cursing, not thinking. A terrible presentiment chilled him, and quicklyskipping over the many arguments that were still ahofeahdim,he
told himself angrily: this is how it is, Red, you won't leave here until you figure it out, youd'lrlop dead here next to the ball, butron death and
rot, but you won't leave.
God, where are the words, where are my thoughts? He slapped his head. I
have never had a thoughtmiyn entire life! Wait, wait, Kiruislled to say something like that. KirilHl!e feverishlydug throughhis memories,and wordsBoated to the surfacef,amiliar ones and unfamiliar, but it was all wrong,because Kirill hadnot left wordsbehind. He had left pictures, vague, and very kind, but thoroughly improbable.
Meanness andtreachery. They letme down in this too, they lemfte
speechless, the bastards. A bum--I was always a bum, and now I'm an old bum. It'snot right, do you hear me? tIhne future, foronce and forall, it
should be outlawed! Man is boinrnorder to think (there heoilsd, Kirill atlast!). Only I don't believe itd.idIn't believe it before and I don't
believe it now. And I don't know what man is born for. I was born. So here I

am. People eat whatever thceayn. Let all of ubse healthy and let all of
them drop dead. Whiso us and who are theyd?oIn't understand a thing. If
I'mhappy, Burbridge isn't, ifBurbridge's happy, Four-eyes isn't, if
Throaty is happy, noone else is, and if thinagrse bad for Throatyh,e's
the only one fool enoughthtionk he'll manage somehow. God, ijtu'sst one long brawl! I fight all my life with Captain Quartearnbdladh,e fights all his life with Throaty, and all he wants fromis tmhaet I give up stalking.
But how can I give up stalkwinhgen I have a famitloy feed? Get a job? I
don't want to work for you, your work makes me puke, do you understand? This isthe way I figure it: if a man wowrkitsh you, he is always working for
oneof you, he is aslave andnothing else. And I always wanted bteo
myself, onmy own,so that I coulsdpit at you all, at your boredoamnd despair.
He finished the dregs of the branadnyd threw the empty flask to the groundwith all hismight. Theflask bounced, flashingin the sun, and
rolled away. He forgot about it immediately. He sat there, covering his eyes withhis hands, andhe was trying--not to understandn, ot to think, but
merelyto see somethingof how things should be, baultl he saw were the faces,faces, faces, and more faces ... and greenbacks, bottles, bundles of rags that were once people, and columns of figures. He kneiwt atllhahtad
to bedestroyed, and he wanted to destroy it, but he guessed that if it all disappeared therewould be nothing left but the flat, bareearth. His
frustration and despair made him want to lean back against the bgaollt. He
up, automatically brushed off his pants, and started down into the quarry. The sunwas broiling hotr,ed spots floated before his eyes, the air
was quivering on the floor of the quarry, and in the shimmer itthsaetemed

the balwl as dancing inplace like a buoy on the waves. wHeent pastthe
bucket, superstitiously picking uhpis feet higher and making sure ntot
step on the splotches. And then, sinking into the rubble, he dragged himself across the quarry to the danciwngin, king ball.He was covered witshweat
and panting from the heat, and at the same time, a chill was running through him,he was shudderinga, s if he had a bad hangover, athned sweet chalk dustgritted between histeeth. He had stoppedtrying to think. He just
repeated hislitany over andover: "I am an animal, you tsheaet. I don't have the words, they didn't teach me the wodrdosn.'tI know howto think, thebastards didn't let me learn how to thiBnku.t ifyou really are ...
all-powerful ... all-knowing ... then you figure it out! Look into my heart.
I know that everything you needin tihs ere. It has to be. I never sold my
soul to anyone! It's minite's,
human! You take from me what Iitwiasnt
... it just can't be that I wowuladnt something bad! Damn it Iallc,an't
think of anything, except those wordshiosf ...'HAPPINESSFOR EVERYBODY, FREE, AND NO ONE WILL GO AWAY UNSATISFIED!' "