The Devolutionist and the EmancipatrixFlint, Homer Eon
Science
The Devolutionist and the Emancipatrix
Flint, Homer Eon
Life on other planets -- Fiction; Science fiction
Billie was unable to work upon her bee. Supreme retired to a hive
just before dusk, but remained wide awake and more or less active,
feeding voraciously, for hours upon hours. When she finally did nap,
she fell asleep on such short notice that the architect was taken
off her guard. The bee seemed to all but jump into slumberland.
The doctor also had to wait for Rolla. The woman sat for a long time
in the growing dusk, looming out pensively over the valley. Corrus
was somewhere within a mile or two, and so Kinney was not surprised
to see the herdsman's image dancing, tantalizingly, before Rolla's
eyes. She was thinking of him with all her might.
Presently she shivered with the growing coolness, and went into a
rough hut, which she shared with Cunora. The girl was already asleep
on a heap of freshly gathered brush. Rolla, delightfully free of any
need to prepare for her night's rest--such as locking any doors or
cleaning her teeth--made herself comfortable beside her friend. Two
or three yawns, and the doctor's chance came.
Two minutes later Rolla sat bolt upright, at the same time giving
out a sharp cry of amazement and alarm. Instantly Cunora awoke.
"What is it, Rolla?" terror-stricken.
"Hush!" The older woman got up and went to the opening which served
as a door. There she hung a couple of skins, arranging them
carefully so that no bee might enter. Coming back to Cunora, she
brought her voice nearly to a whisper:
"Cunora, I have had a wonderful dream! Ye must believe me when I say
that it were more than a mere dream; 'twere a message from the great
god, Mownoth, or I be mad!"
"Rolla!" The girl was more anxious than frightened now. "Ye speak
wildly! Quiet thyself, and tell what thou didst see!
"It were not easy to describe," said Rolla, getting herself under
control. "I dreamed that a man, very pale of face and most curiously
clad, did approach me while I was at work. He smiled and spake
kindly, in a language I could not understand; but I know he meant
full well.
"This be the curious thing, Cunora: He picked up a handful of leaves
from the ground and laid them on the trough at my side. Then, from
some place in his garments he produced a tiny stick of white wood,
with a tip made of some dark-red material. This he held before mine
eyes, in the dream; and then spake very reassuringly, as though
bidding me not to be afraid.
"Well he might! Cunora, he took that tiny stick in his hand and
moved the tip along the surface of the trough; and, behold, a
miracle!"
"What happened?" breathlessly.
"In the twinkling of an eye, the stick blossomed! Blossomed, Cunora,
before mine eyes! And such a blossom no eye ever beheld before. Its
color was the color of the poppy, but its shape--most amazing! Its
shape continually changed, Cunora; it danced about, and rose and
fell; it flowed, even as water floweth in a stream, but always
upward!"
"Rolla!" incredulously. "Ye would not awaken me to tell such
nonsense!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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