The Songs of Summer
by Robert Silverberg
1. Kennon
I was on my way to take part in the Singing, and to claim Corilann’s promise. I was crossing the great open field when suddenly the man appeared, the man named Chester Dugan. He seemed to drop out of the sky.
I watched him stagger for a moment or two. I did not know where he had come from so suddenly, or why he was here. He was short—shorter than any of us—fat in an unpleasant way, with wrinkles on his face and an unshaven growth of beard. I was anxious to get on to the Singing, and so I allowed him to fall to the ground and kept moving. But he called to me, in a barbarous and corrupt tongue which I could recognize as our language only with difficulty.
“Hey, you,” he called to me. “Give me a hand, will you?”
He seemed to be in difficulties, so I walked over to him and helped him to his feet. He was panting, and appeared almost in a state of shock. Once I saw he was steady on his feet, and seemed to have no further need of me, I began to walk away from him, since I was anxious to get on to the Singing and did not wish to meddle with this man’s affairs. Last year was the first time I attended the Singing at Dandrin’s, and I enjoyed it very much. It was then that Corilann had promised herself. I was anxious to get on.
But he called to me. “Don’t leave me here!” he shouted. “Hey, you can’t just walk away like that! Help me!”
I turned and went back. He was dressed strangely, in ugly ill-arranged tight clothes, and he was walking in little circles, trying to adjust his equilibrium. “Where am I?” he asked me.
“Earth, of course,” I told him.
“No,” he said, harshly. “I don’t mean that, idiot. Where, on Earth?”
The concept had no meaning for me. Where, on Earth, indeed? Here, was all I knew: the great plain between my home and Dandrin’s, where the Singing is held. I began to feel uneasy. This man seemed badly sick, and I did not know how to handle him. I felt thankful that I was going to the Singing; had I been alone, I never would have been able to deal with him. I realized I was not as self-sufficient as I thought I was.
“I am going to the Singing,” I told him. “Are you?”
“I’m not going anywhere till you tell me where I am and how I got here. What’s your name?”
“My name is Kennon. You are crossing the great plain on your way to the home of Dandrin, where we are going to have the Singing, for it is summer. Come; I am anxious to get there. Walk with me, if you wish.”
I started to walk away a second time, and this time he began to follow me. We walked along silently for a while.
“Answer me, Kennon,” he said after a hundred paces or so. “Ten seconds ago I was in New York; now I’m here. How far am I from New York?”
“What is New York?” I asked. At this he showed great signs of anger and impatience, and I began to feel quite worried.
“Where’d you escape from?” he shouted. “You never heard of New York? You never heard of New York? New York,” he said, “is a city of some eight million people, located on the Atlantic Ocean, on the east coast of the United States of America. Now tell me you haven’t heard of that!”
“What is a city?” I asked, very much confused. At this he grew very angry. He threw his arms in the air wildly.
“Let us walk more quickly,” I said. I saw now that I was obviously incapable of dealing with this man, and I was anxious to get on to the Singing—where perhaps Dandrin, or the other old ones, would be able to understand him. He continued to ask me questions as we walked, but I’m afraid I was not very helpful.
2. Chester Dugan
I don’t know what happened or how; all I know is I got here. There doesn’t seem to be any way back, either, but I don’t care; I’ve got a good thing here and I’m going to show these nitwits who’s boss.
Last thing I knew, I was getting into a subway. There was an explosion and a blinding flash of light, and before I could see what was happening I blanked out and somehow got here. I landed in a big open field with absolutely nothing around. It took a few minutes to get over the shock. I think I fell down; I’m not sure. It’s not like me, but this was something out of the ordinary and I might have lost my balance.
Anyway, I recovered almost immediately and looked around, and saw this kid in loose flowing robes walking quickly across the field not too far away. I yelled to him when I saw he didn’t intend to come over to me. He came over and gave me a hand, and then started to walk away again, calm as you please. I had to call him back. He seemed a little reluctant. The bastard.
I tried to get him to tell me where we were, but he played dumb. Didn’t know where we were, didn’t know where New York was, didn’t even know what a city was—or so he said. I would have thought he was crazy, except that I didn’t know what had happened to me; for that matter, I might have been the crazy one and not him.
I saw I wasn’t making much headway with him, so I gave up. All he would tell me was that he was on his way to the Singing, and the way he said it there was no doubt about the capital S. He said there would be men there who could help me. To this day I don’t know how I got here. Even after I spoke and asked around, no one could tell me how I could step into a subway train in 1956 and come out in an open field somewhere around the thirty-fifth century. The crazy bastards have even lost count.
But I’m here, that’s all that matters. And whatever went before is down the drain now. Whatever deals I was working on back in 1956 are dead and buried now; this is where I’m stuck, for reasons I don’t get, and here’s where I’ll have to make my pile. All over again—me, Dugan, starting from scratch. But I’ll do it. I’m doing it.
After this kid Kennon and I had plodded across the fields for a while, I heard the sound of voices. By now it was getting towards nightfall. I forgot to mention that it was getting along towards the end of November back in 1956, but the weather here was nice and summery. There was a pleasant tang of something in the air that I had never noticed in New York’s air, or the soup they called air back then.
The sound of the singing grew louder as we approached, but as soon as we got within sight they all stopped immediately.
They were sitting in a big circle, twenty or thirty of them, dressed in light, airy clothing. They all turned to look at me as we got near.
I got the feeling they were all looking into my mind.
The silence lasted a few minutes, and then they began to sing again. A tall, thin kid was leading them, and they were responding to what he sang. They ignored me. I let them continue until I formed a plan; I don’t believe in rushing into things without knowing exactly what I’m doing.
I waited till the singing quieted down a bit, and then I yelled “Stop!” I stepped forward into the middle of the ring.
“My name is Dugan,” I said, loud, clear, and slow. “Chester Dugan. I don’t know how I got here, and I don’t know where I am, but I mean to stay here a while. Who’s the chief around here?”
They looked at each other in a puzzled fashion and finally an old thin-faced man stepped out of the circle. “My name is Dandrin,” he said, in a thin dried little voice. “As the oldest here, I will speak for the people. Where do you come from?”
“That’s just it,” I said. “I came from New York City, United States of America, Planet Earth, the Universe. Don’t any of those things mean anything to you?”
“They are names, of course,” Dandrin said. “But I do not know what they are names of. New York City? United States of America? We have no such terms.”
“Never heard of New York?” This was the same treatment I had gotten from that dumb kid Kennon, and I didn’t like it. “New York is the biggest city in the world, and the United States is the richest country.”