Jubilain’s head hurts. It did not hurt before did not hurt. I could sing before. Summer to autumn to every old everyone. Corilann’s belly is big with Dugan, and Jubilain’s head hurts. Will there be more Dugans?
And more Kennons. No more Jubilains. No more songs. The songs of summer are silent and slippery. My head hurts. Hurts hurts hurts. I can sing no more. Nonononononono.
9. Dandrin
This is tragic. I am an old fool.
I have been sitting in the shade, like the dried old man I am, while Dugan has destroyed us. Today he struck a man—Kennon. Kennon, whom he has mistreated from the start. Poor Kennon. Dugan has brought strife to us, now, along with his city and his gates.
But that is not the worst of it. Jubilain watched the whole thing, and we have lost our Singer. Jubilain simply was unable to assimilate the incident. A Singer’s mind is not like our minds; it is a delicate, sensitive instrument. But it cannot comprehend violence. Our Singer has gone mad; there will be no more songs.
We must destroy Dugan. It is sad that we must come to his level and talk of destroying, but it is so. Now he is going to bring us warfare, and that is a gift we do not need. The fierce men of the north will prove strong adversaries for a people that has not fought for a thousand years. Why could we not have been left to ourselves? We were happy and peaceful people, and now we must talk of destroying.
I know the way to do it, too. If only my mind is strong enough, if only it has not dried in the sun during the years, I can lead the way. If I can link with Kennon, and Kennon with Jarinne, and Jarinne with Corilann, and Corilann with—
If we can link, we can do it. Dugan must go. And this is the best way; this way we can dispose of him and still remain human beings.
I am an old fool. But perhaps this dried old brain still is good for something. If I can link with Kennon—
10. Chester Dugan
All resistance has crumbled now. I’m set up for life—Chester Dugan, ruler of the world. It’s not much of a world, true enough, but what the hell. It’s mine.
It’s amazing how all the grumbling has stopped. Even Kennon has given in—in fact, he’s become my most valuable man, since that time I had to belt him. It was too bad, I guess, to ruin such a nice nose, but I couldn’t have him walking off that way.
He’s going to lead the expedition to the north tomorrow, and he’s leaving Jarinne here. That’s good. Corilann is busy with her baby, and I think I need a little variety anyway. Good-looking kid Corilann had; takes after his old man. It’s amazing how everything is working out.
I hope to get electricity going soon, but I’m not too sure. The stream here is kind of weak, and maybe we’ll have to throw up a dam first. In fact, I’m sure of it. I’ll speak to Kennon about it before he leaves.
This business of rebuilding a civilization from scratch has its rewards. God, am I lean! I’ve lost all that roll of fat I was carrying around. I suppose part of the reason is that there’s no beer here, yet—but I’ll get to that soon enough. Everything in due time. First, I want to see what Kennon brings back from the north. I hope he doesn’t ruin anything by ripping it out. Wouldn’t it be nice to find a hydraulic press or a generator or stuff like that? And with my luck, we probably will.
Maybe we’ll do without religion a little while longer. I spoke to Dandrin about it, but he didn’t seem to go for the idea of being priest. I might just take over that job myself, once things get straightened out. I’d like to work out some sort of heating system before the winter gets here. I’ve figured out that we’re somewhere in New Jersey or Pennsylvania, and it’ll get pretty cold here unless things have changed. (Could the barbarian city to the north be New York? Sounds reasonable.)
It’s funny the way everyone lies down and says yes when I tell them to do something. These people have no guts, that’s their trouble. One good thing about civilization—you have to have guts to last. I’ll put guts in these people, all right. I’ll probably be remembered for centuries and centuries. Maybe they’ll think of me as a sort of messiah in the far future when everything’s blurred? Why not? I came to them out of the clouds, didn’t I? From heaven.
Messiah Dugan! Lawsy-me, if they could only see me now!
I still can’t get over the way everything is moving. It’s almost like a dream. By next spring we’ll have a respectable little city here, practically overnight. And we can hold a super-special Singing next summer and snaffle in the folk from all around.
Too bad about that kid Jubilain, by the way; he’s really gone off his nut. But I always thought he was a little way there anyway. Maybe I’ll teach them some of the old songs myself. It’ll help to make me popular here. Although, come to think of it, I’m pretty popular now. They’re all smiling at me all the time.
11.
“Kennon? Kennon? Hear me?”
“I hear you, Dandrin. I’ll get Jarinne.”
“Here I am. Corilann?”
“Here, Jarinne. And pulling hard. Let’s try to get Onnar.”
“Pull hard!”
“Onnar in.” “And Jekkaman.” “Hello, Dandrin.”
“Hello.”
“All here?”
“One hundred twenty.”
“Tight now.” “We’re right tight.”
“Let’s get started then. All together.”
“Hello? Hello, Dugan. Listen to us, Dugan. Listen to us. Listen to us. Hold on tight! Listen to us, Dugan.”
“Open up all the way, now.”
“Are you listening, Dugan?”
12. Dandrin plus Kennon plus Jarinne plus Corilann plus n
I think we’ll be able to hold together indefinitely, and so it can be said that the coming of Dugan was an incredible stroke of luck for us. This new blending is infinitely better than trying to make contact over thousands of miles!
Certainly we’ll have to maintain this gestalt (useful word; I found it in Dugan’s mind when I entered) until after Dugan’s death. He’s peacefully dreaming now, dreaming of who knows what conquests and battles and expansions, and I don’t think he’ll come out of it. He may live on in his dream for years, and I’ll have to hold together and sustain the illusion until he dies. I hope we’re making him happy at last. He seems to have been a very unhappy man.
And just after I joined together, it occurred to me that we’d better stay this way indefinitely, just in case any more Dugans get thrown at us from the past. (Could it have been part of a Design? I wonder.) They must all have been like that back then. It’s a fine thing that bomb was dropped.
We’ll keep Dugan’s city, of course. He did make some positive contributions to us—me. His biggest contribution was me; I never would have formed otherwise. I would have been scattered—Kennon on his farm, Dandrin here, Corilann there. I would have maintained some sort of contact among us, the way I always did even before Dugan came, but nothing like this! Nothing at all.
There’s the question of what to do with Dugan’s child. Kennon, Corilann, and Jarinne are all raising him. We don’t need families now that we have me. I think we’ll let Dugan’s child in with us for a while; if he shows any signs of being like his father, we can always put him to sleep and let him share his father’s dream.