The Very Best of F & SF v1 Read Online Free Page A

Only when they sang about the sun and the summer did her
lips move, as she watched the drenched windows.
    And then, of
course, the biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago
from Earth, and she remembered the sun and the way the sun was and the sky was,
when she was four, in Ohio. And they, they had been on Venus all their lives,
and they had been only two years old when last the sun came out, and had long
since forgotten the color and heat of it and the way that it really was. But
Margot remembered.
    “It’s like a
penny,” she said, once, eyes closed.
    “No, it’s not!”
the children cried.
    “It’s like a
fire,” she said, “in the stove.”
    “You’re lying,
you don’t remember!” cried the children.
    But she
remembered and stood quietly apart from all of them, and watched the patterning
windows. And once, a month ago, she had refused to shower in the school shower
rooms, had clutched her hands to her ears and over her head, screaming the
water mustn’t touch her head. So after that, dimly, dimly, she sensed it, she
was different and they knew her difference and kept away.
    There was talk
that her father and mother were taking her back to Earth next year; it seemed
vital to her that they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of
dollars to her family. And so the children hated her for all these reasons, of
big and little consequence. They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence,
her thinness and her possible future.
    “Get away!” The
boy gave her another push. “What’re you waiting for?”
    Then, for the
first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting for was in
her eyes.
    “Well, don’t
wait around here!” cried the boy, savagely. “You won’t see nothing!”
    Her lips moved.
    “Nothing!” he
cried. “It was all a joke, wasn’t it?” He turned to the other children. “Nothing’s
happening today. Is it?”
    They all blinked
at him and then, understanding, laughed and shook their heads. “Nothing,
nothing!”
    “Oh, but,” Margot
whispered, her eyes helpless. “But, this is the day, the scientists predict,
they say, they know , the sun...”
    “All a joke!”
said the boy, and seized her roughly. “Hey, everyone, let’s put her in a closet
before teacher comes!”
    “No,” said
Margot, falling back.
    They surged
about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then
crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the
door. They stood looking at the door and saw it tremble from her beating and
throwing herself against it. They heard her muffled cries. Then, smiling, they
turned and went out and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived.
    “Ready,
children?” She glanced at her watch.
    “Yes!” said
everyone.
    “Are we all
here?”
    “Yes!”
    The rain
slackened still more.
    They crowded to
the huge door.
    The rain
stopped.
    It was as if, in
the midst of a film concerning an avalanche, a tornado, a hurricane, a volcanic
eruption, something had, first, gone wrong with the sound apparatus, thus
muffling and finally cutting off all noise, all of the blasts and repercussions
and thunders, and then, secondly, ripped the film from the projector and
inserted in its place a peaceful tropical slide which did not move or tremor.
The world ground to a standstill. The silence was so immense and unbelievable
that you felt that your ears had been stuffed or you had lost your hearing
altogether. The children put their hands to their ears. They stood apart. The
door slid back and the smell of the silent, waiting world came in to them.
    The sun came
out.
    It was the color
of flaming bronze and it was very large. And the sky around it was a blazing
blue tile color. And the jungle burned with sunlight as the children, released
from their spell, rushed out, yelling, into the summertime.
    “Now, don’t go
too far,” called the teacher after them. “You’ve only one hour, you