Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 143: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CHRYSALIDS 143 The fish-shaped craft stood waiting in the middle of the clear- ing: a door in its side was open, ready-for us. The white-suited figure began to spray a path towards it. And we followed. The city was just as I had seen it in my dreams. A brighter sun than Waknuk ever knew poured down upon the wide blue bay, and the lines of breakers crawling slowly to the beaches. Clustered along the shore, and thinning as they stretched back towards the hills, were white buildings embedded in green parks and gardens. I could make out tiny vehicles sliding along tree-bordered avenues. A little inland, beside a level square of green, a bright light blinked from a tower, and close to it a fish-shaped machine like the one we were in was sinking slowly to earth. It was all so familiar that for a moment I imagined I should wake up to find myself back in my bed in Waknuk. I took hold of Rosalind’s hand to reassure myself. ‘“* It zs real, isn’t it? You do see it, too? ”’ I asked her. “It’s real—and it’s beautiful, David. I never thought there could be anywhere so lovely . . . And there’s something else, too, that you never told me about.” “What?” I asked. “Listen! Can’t you feel it? Open your mind more—Petra darling, if you could stop bubbling over for a few minutes .. .” I did as she told me. I was aware of the engineer in our machine communicating with someone below, but behind that, as a back- ground to it, there was something new and unknown to me. In terms of sound it could be not unlike the buzzing of a hive of bees; in terms of light, a kind of suffused glow. * What is it?’ I asked, puzzled. *“Can’t you guess, David? It’s people. Lots and lots of our kind of people.” I realized she must be right, and I listened. We were over the land now, looking down at the city as it came slowly up to meet us. “ I’m beginning to believe it’s real and true at last,”’ I said. ‘‘ You were never with me those other times.” Rosalind turned to me. ‘“‘ This time, David—’”’ she began, but then she was blotted out. Petra’s excitement had got the better of her. Anguished protests came from all directions. ** Oh, sorry,” Petra apologized to the ship’s crew, and to the city in general, ‘‘ but it zs awfully exciting.”’ We watched the buildings and the towers grow from pictures into solid realities as we dropped towards them. In the com- posite murmur and glow, we caught thought-patterns of welcome coming up to meet us. It was like coming home at last. Rosalind’s hand caught mine again, and pressed it. “You’re right, darling,’’ she said to Petra. “‘ It zs exciting. It is the most wonderfully exciting thing that could ever happen to people like us.”’ * The First Part of “Storm,” a gripping new sea story by P. Fitzgerald O’ Connor, appears in next month’s Argosy on sale October 7th. comiclooks.conn