The Nothing by Frank Herbert _Though Frank Herbert started free-lancing less than two years ago his writing career for the past fifteen years has been both accomplished and varied. He has been copy or managing editor of the Salem, Oregon, Statesman, Portland Journal, Tacoma Times, Seattle Star and the Santa Rosa, California, Press-Democrat. His stories have appeared in_ COLLIER’S _and_ ESQUIRE, _and a number of science fiction magazines. There’s prophetic magic in this star-bright tale of tomorrow._ =The Nothings stemmed from the future’s tragic lack of courage. But one man and woman dared to shape a more audacious tomorrow.= If it hadn’t been for the fight with my father I’d never have gone down to the Tavern and then I wouldn’t have met the _Nothing_. This _Nothing_ was really just an ordinary looking guy. He wasn’t worth special attention unless, like me, you were pretending you were Marla Graim, the feelies star, and him Sidney Harch meeting you in the bar to give you a spy capsule. It was all my father’s fault. Imagine him getting angry because I wouldn’t take a job burning brush. What kind of work is that for an eighteen-year-old girl anyway? I know my folks were hard pressed for money but that was no excuse for the way he lit into me. We had the fight over lunch but it was after six o’clock before I got the chance to sneak out of the house. I went down to the Tavern because I knew the old man would be madder than a tele in a lead barrel when he found out. There was no way I could keep it from him, of course. He pried me every time I came home. The Tavern is a crossroads place where the talent gets together to compare notes, and talk about jobs. I’d only been in there once before, and that time with my father. He warned me not to go there alone because a lot of the jags used the place. You could smell the stuff all over the main room. There was pink smoke from a hyro bowl drifting up around the rafters. Someone had a Venusian Oin filter going. There was a lot of talent there for so early in the evening. I found an empty corner of the bar and ordered a blue fire because I’d seen Marla Graim ask for one in the feelies. The bartender stared at me sharply and I suspected he was a tele, but he didn’t pry. After awhile he floated my drink up to me and ’ported away my money. I sipped the drink the way I’d seen Marla Graim do, but it was too sweet. I tried not to let my face show anything. The bar mirror gave me a good broad view of the room and I kept looking into it as though I was expecting somebody. Then this big blond young man came through the front door. I saw him in the mirror and immediately knew he was going to take the seat beside me. I’m not exactly a prescient, but sometimes those things are obvious.