Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

WILLIE : 21 flames of the fire which he had kindled for their protection. The Prowlers feared fire, and—the Prow- lers feared his people. But the Prowlers envied his people the security of the city, and the magical might of the Half Body. The Half Body had been worshiped since the beginning of time. It was cold, and blue and unstirring—a shape of colossal dimen- sions which towered in the exact middle of the Central Square, and protected his people with its vast, inscrutable stare. Sym- bolically it was not so much a half body as a Face which brooded over the city, never sleeping—a great, metal face with all of its immense wisdom concentrated in its eyes. “We must fight with all our strength,” the girl at his side whispered. “The Prowlers must be destroyed.” Again that feeling of two dimly remem- bered’' worlds impinging, carrying his thoughts beyond their depths, and enmesh- ing him in a paradox that assailed his reason like a gadfly. The Prowlers? Who were the Prowlers? The moto-pavement was carrying him swiftly into the heart of the city now, straight toward the Hall of Monitors and the great Central Square. “I am a Monitor,” he said, drawing him- self up. “What is your occupation, girl? And why are you staring at me like that? Speak, you have my permission.” “I have your permission, Agar? Your . per—”’ “Well, I am a Monitor, and—” A look of utter consternation came into the girl’s face. “Agar, Agar, what has come over you?” she’ almost sobbed. “You will bring down fire from the sky. The name you just spoke. Oh, I dare not say it! Fire would consume me.” He flushed angrily and made a move as though to take her by the shoulders and shake some sanity into her. When a girl of unstable ancestry went over the borderline— She had evidently ‘been masquerading as a savage in the streets. It happened sometimes, faulty conditioning, too much delving into anthropology, folk- lore, the customs and savage rituals of re- mote and primitive races and the corybantic cult practices of the not-worth-civilizing Asiatic islanders, and Australian aborigines. But why weren’t the nonvolitional robots converging upon her, in response to impulses from the Public Safety Center? A tragic and pitiful case, but outside the jurisdiction of a Monitor. Not that he couldn’t interfere, but the psychiatric people were so damned touchy. Keeping demented Commoners off the streets was just routine to them, when they had the co-operation of Public Safety. Now, apparently, they weren’t getting it. He saw them suddenly, all of his people huddled about a swollen fire in the middle of the Central Square, beneath the great, gleaming Half Body. The moto-pavement was carrying him so swiftly toward them that he had hardly time to adjust his vision to that wide, crouching half circle of de- sperate men and women when he found himself inside it, the cynosure of all eyes. With yells of relief and joy the women of his tribe clustered about him, touching his legs, his chest, his biceps as though there adhered to him some strong, pure magic which could protect them from the bestial savagery of the Prowlers. The men.stood straight and still, regarding him with shin- ing eyes, but he knew that they too looked upon him as the greatest of warriors. He knew that they were ready to die for him, and he felt suddenly proud to be once again standing with his people beneath the Half Body. His eyes grew moist yet firmed when they rested on the battle-scarred bodies of his hatchetmen. There was old Babu crouching in the shadows, his thin face looking almost skele- tal in the firelight, his eyes fanatically gleaming slits. Old Babu, with “death to Prowlers” in his stare, and Tigur, barrel- chested, knock-kneed, but a fighter to his toenails, all his amorousness put aside now as he braced himself for what he knew was coming. There was Kapah, Tumun, Grun and young Ukar, a boy in years, but mighty in girth and so full of courage that he seemed always to be fighting shining battles deep within himself. “Death to Prowlers.” The words seemed to sing through Agar’s brain as he took up his position beneath the Half Body, the girl in the crook of his arm. She had come into the curve of his arm as though by instinct, and even as though it were her right to be thus close to him when he fought. “They attacked once, but we drove them off,” he heard someone growl, and raising his eyes found himself meeting the level, fanatical stare of old Babu. “I saw them,” he heard himself replying. “They’ve been gathering on our side of the valley since dawn.” Ccomiclbooks.€c©