Read Online Venus on the Half-Shell by Philip José Farmer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Philip José Farmer
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couldn’t hang around here much longer unless he shut himself up in the ship and waited for the rotting meat to be eaten up.
Simon looked down from the cliff on the bodies of hundreds of men, women, and children, and he wept.
All of them had once been babies who needed and wanted love and who thought that they would be immortal. Even the worst of them longed for love and would have been the better for it if he or she had been able to find it. But the more they grabbed for it, the more unlovable they had become. Even the lovable find it hard to get love, so what chance did the unlovable have?
The human species had been trying for a million years to find love and immortality. They had talked a lot about both, but humankind always talked most about those things which did not exist. Or, if they did, were so rare that almost nobody recognized them when they saw them. Love was rare, and immortality was only a thing hoped-for, unproven, and unprovable.
At least, it was so on Earth.
A little while later, he stood up and shook his fist at the sky.
And this was when he decided to leave Earth and start asking the primal question.
Why are we created only to suffer and to die?
5
THE BOOJUM OF SPACE
Simon explored the area on foot. He found the one-man spaceship where Comberbacke had left it. It had been built by the Titanic & Icarus Spaceship Company, Inc., which didn’t inspire confidence in Simon. After looking it over, however, he decided to fly it back to the Hwang Ho. He would store it in the big dock area in the ship’s stern. He could use it for a shuttle or a lifeboat during his voyages through interstellar space.
When he got back to the big ship, he discovered that the old man was gone. Simon set out on foot again. After he had walked down the muddy slope, he found Comberbacke rooting around among the ruins of a village. The old man looked up when he heard Simon’s feet pulling out of the mud with a sucking sound.
“Even an Armenian village must have a library,” he said. “Nobody’s illiterate anymore. So there must be a book that gives the scores of the World Series.”
“Is that all it’ll take to make you happy?”
The old man thought a minute, then said, “No. If I could get a hard-on, I’d be a lot happier. But what good would that do? There ain’t a woman in sight.”
“I was thinking more of somebody who’d be a companion for you and maybe a nurse, too.”
“Find somebody who likes baseball,” Comberbacke said.
Simon went away shaking his head. In the next few weeks he went over every inch of Great and Little Ararat, but the only humans he found were dead. The last day of his search, he started back to the ship with the idea of flying it around until he located land on which were some survivors. He’d make sure they’d take care of the old man, and then he’d leave for interstellar space.
It was dusk when he got to the ship. It lay broadside to him and, as usual, the sight of it disturbed him. He could never put his mental finger on the reason. It was about six hundred feet long, its main length cylindrical-shaped. The nose, however, was bulbous, and its stern rested on two hemispheres. These housed the engines which drove the Hwang Ho. They were separate from the ship so they could be released if the engines threatened to blow up.
Light streamed out from the main sideport, which had been left open. Simon was exasperated when he saw this. He had told the old man to keep it shut at night. The mosquitoes were fierce now that spring was here. Somehow, the deluge had not killed them all off, and they were multiplying by the billions since most of their natural enemies, the bats and the birds, were dead. He hurried into the ship and closed the port after him. He called out the old man’s name. Comberbacke did not reply. Simon went to the recreation room and found the old man dead in a chair. The side of his head was blown off. A Chinese pistol lay on his lap. On the table before him was a
Simon looked down from the cliff on the bodies of hundreds of men, women, and children, and he wept.
All of them had once been babies who needed and wanted love and who thought that they would be immortal. Even the worst of them longed for love and would have been the better for it if he or she had been able to find it. But the more they grabbed for it, the more unlovable they had become. Even the lovable find it hard to get love, so what chance did the unlovable have?
The human species had been trying for a million years to find love and immortality. They had talked a lot about both, but humankind always talked most about those things which did not exist. Or, if they did, were so rare that almost nobody recognized them when they saw them. Love was rare, and immortality was only a thing hoped-for, unproven, and unprovable.
At least, it was so on Earth.
A little while later, he stood up and shook his fist at the sky.
And this was when he decided to leave Earth and start asking the primal question.
Why are we created only to suffer and to die?
5
THE BOOJUM OF SPACE
Simon explored the area on foot. He found the one-man spaceship where Comberbacke had left it. It had been built by the Titanic & Icarus Spaceship Company, Inc., which didn’t inspire confidence in Simon. After looking it over, however, he decided to fly it back to the Hwang Ho. He would store it in the big dock area in the ship’s stern. He could use it for a shuttle or a lifeboat during his voyages through interstellar space.
When he got back to the big ship, he discovered that the old man was gone. Simon set out on foot again. After he had walked down the muddy slope, he found Comberbacke rooting around among the ruins of a village. The old man looked up when he heard Simon’s feet pulling out of the mud with a sucking sound.
“Even an Armenian village must have a library,” he said. “Nobody’s illiterate anymore. So there must be a book that gives the scores of the World Series.”
“Is that all it’ll take to make you happy?”
The old man thought a minute, then said, “No. If I could get a hard-on, I’d be a lot happier. But what good would that do? There ain’t a woman in sight.”
“I was thinking more of somebody who’d be a companion for you and maybe a nurse, too.”
“Find somebody who likes baseball,” Comberbacke said.
Simon went away shaking his head. In the next few weeks he went over every inch of Great and Little Ararat, but the only humans he found were dead. The last day of his search, he started back to the ship with the idea of flying it around until he located land on which were some survivors. He’d make sure they’d take care of the old man, and then he’d leave for interstellar space.
It was dusk when he got to the ship. It lay broadside to him and, as usual, the sight of it disturbed him. He could never put his mental finger on the reason. It was about six hundred feet long, its main length cylindrical-shaped. The nose, however, was bulbous, and its stern rested on two hemispheres. These housed the engines which drove the Hwang Ho. They were separate from the ship so they could be released if the engines threatened to blow up.
Light streamed out from the main sideport, which had been left open. Simon was exasperated when he saw this. He had told the old man to keep it shut at night. The mosquitoes were fierce now that spring was here. Somehow, the deluge had not killed them all off, and they were multiplying by the billions since most of their natural enemies, the bats and the birds, were dead. He hurried into the ship and closed the port after him. He called out the old man’s name. Comberbacke did not reply. Simon went to the recreation room and found the old man dead in a chair. The side of his head was blown off. A Chinese pistol lay on his lap. On the table before him was a
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