Selected Stories Read Online Free

beastliness; perhaps man will be able to rebuild while he still has his ruins.”
    She raised her head, her voice tolling. “And even if this is the end of humankind, we dare not take away the chances some other life form might have to succeed where we failed. If we retaliate, there will not be a dog, a deer, an ape, a bird or fish or lizard to carry the evolutionary torch. In the name of justice, if we must condemn and destroy ourselves, let us not condemn all life along with us! We are heavy enough with sins. If we must destroy, let us stop with destroying ourselves!”
    There was a shimmering flicker of music. It seemed to stir her hair like a breath of wind. She smiled.
    “That’s all,” she whispered. And to each man there she said, “Good night—”
    The screen went black. As the carrier cut off—there was no announcement—the ubiquitous speckles began to swarm across it.
    Pete rose and switched on the lights. Bonze and Sonny were quite still. It must have been minutes later when Sonny sat up straight, shaking himself like a puppy. Something besides the silence seemed to tear with the movement.
    He said softly, “You’re not allowed to fight anything, or to run away, or to live, and now you can’t even hate any more, because Starr says ‘no.’”
    There was bitterness in the sound of it, and a bitter smell to the air.
    Pete Mawser sniffed once, which had nothing to do with the smell. He froze, sniffed again. “What’s that smell, Son’?”
    Sonny tested it. “I don’t—Something familiar. Vanilla—no … no.
    “Almonds. Bitter— Bonze! ”
    Bonze lay still with his eyes open, grinning. His jaw muscles were knotted, and they could see almost all his teeth. He was soaking wet.
    “Bonze!”
    “It was just when she came on and said ‘Hello—you,’ remember?” whispered Pete. “Oh, the poor kid. That’s why he wanted to catch the show here instead of in the mess hall.”
    “Went out looking at her,” said Sonny through pale lips. “I can’t say I blame him much. Wonder where he got the stuff.”
    “Never mind that.” Pete’s voice was harsh. “Let’s get out of here.”
    They left to call the meat wagon. Bonze lay watching the console with his dead eyes and his smell of bitter almonds.
    Pete did not realize where he was going, or exactly why, until he found himself on the dark street near GHQ and the communications shack. It had something to do with Bonze. Not that he wanted to do what Bonze had done. But then he hadn’t thought of it. What would he have done if he’d thought of it? Nothing, probably. But still—it might be nice to be able to hear Starr, and see her, whenever he felt like it. Maybe there weren’t any recordings, but her musical background was recorded, and the Sig might have dubbed the show off.
    He stood uncertainly outside the GHQ building. There was a cluster of men outside the main entrance. Pete smiled briefly. Rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor gloom of night could stay the stage-door Johnny.
    He went down the side street and up the delivery ramp in the back. Two doors along the platform was the rear exit of the communications section.
    There was a light on in the communications shack. He had his hand out to the screen door when he noticed someone standing in the shadows beside it. The light played daintily on the golden margins of a head and face.
    He stopped. “Starr Anthim!”
    “Hello, soldier. Sergeant.”
    He blushed like an adolescent. “I—” His voice left him. He swallowed, reached up to whip off his hat. He had no hat. “I saw the show,” he said. He felt clumsy. It was dark, and yet he was very conscious of the fact that his dress shoes were indifferently shined.
    She moved toward him into the light, and she was so beautiful that he had to close his eyes. “What’s your name?”
    “Mawser. Pete Mawser.”
    “Like the show?”
    Not looking at her, he said stubbornly, “No.”
    “Oh?”
    “I mean … I liked it some. The song.”
    “I …