Fritz Leiber

“ Finally he said, "So you're the Madson who wrote those Enemies of Science stories about a world ruled by poets. It never occurred to me back at Ozona. And that non-fiction book about us—what was it called?"
"Murderers of Imagination," Madson growled. "And it would have been a good thing if you'd listened to my warnings instead of going on building machines and dissecting Nature and destroying all the lovely myths that make life worthwhile."
"Are you sure that Nature is so lovely and kind?" Ellenby ventured. Madson did not deign to answer. ”

“ Ellenby murmured, his eyes growing distant. "Cal Tech burns and Ozona stands."
"Ozona stands for the decencies of life," the fat man grated, "not alphabet bombs and pituitary gas. Its purpose is to save a town, not help kill a world."
"But why should I be driven out?" Madson persisted. "I'm just a poet singing the beauties of the simple life unmarred by science."
"Not simple enough for Ozona!" the fat man snorted. "We happen to know, Mr. Poet Madson, that you've written some stories about free love. We don't want anyone telling Ozona girls it's all right to be careless." ”

“ At this point the other unarmed man spoke up loudly. "But that doesn't explain my case. I've devoted my whole life to warning people against physicists and other scientists. How they'd smash us with their bombs. How they were destroying our minds with 3D and telefax and handies. How they were blaspheming against Nature, killing all imagination, crushing all beauty out of life!"
"I'd shut my mouth if I were you, Madson," the fat man said critically, "or at least lower my voice. When I mentioned a mob, I wasn't fooling. ”

“ The thin man looked at the hand-smears on the fat man's shirt. "But you haven't even explained to me," he protested softly, "why I'm being turned out of Ozona College."
"Look here, Mr. Ellenby, I've tried to make it easy for you," the fat man said. "I'm doing it before the town wakes up. Would you rather be chased by a mob?"
"But why—?"
"Because we found out you weren't just a math teacher, Mr. Ellenby." The fat man's voice went hard. "You'd been a physicist once. Nuclear physicist."
The young man with the shotgun spat. Ellenby watched the spittle curl in the dust like a little brown worm. ”

“ That wasn't Technology or Man." A smile trembled on his lips. "That was Nature. An earthquake."
Madson was the first to comment. "All right," he said, "it was Nature—Nature showing her disgust for Man."
"An idea like that is the sheerest animism," Ellenby reacted automatically. "Now if you try analyzing—"
"Analyzing!" Madson snorted with a touch of the old fire. "You scientists are always—"
"Whoa, boys," Rickie Vickson interrupted. "If it hadn't been for that little quake to confuse things, Vera-Ellen couldn't have snatched you out no matter how pretty she tried. ”

“ Ellenby assured him. "Now look here, Madson, I'm going to blow a bubble and I want you to watch, I want you to observe Nature for all you're worth. If poets and physicists have one thing in common it's that they're both supposed to be able to observe. ”

“ They watched the two men trudge a hundred yards, watched Ellenby shift the rolled-up towel under his elbow to the other side, watched Madson pause to thumb tobacco into a pipe and glance carelessly back, then shove the pipe in his pocket and go on hurriedly.
"Couple of pretty harmless coots, if you ask me," the young man with the shotgun observed.
"Sure," the fat man agreed, "but we got to remember peoples' feelings and keep Ozona straight. We don't like mobs or fear or girls gone wild."
The young man with the shotgun grinned. "That Vera-Ellen," he murmured, shaking his head. ”

“ He looked them over and grabbed at Madson's side pocket. "Books, huh?" he said like a hangman, dangling the Keats by a stray page. Then he turned to Ellenby. "Come on, Skinny," he said, "shell out."
When Ellenby hesitated, two of Harvey's men grabbed him, dumped him, and passed the contents of his pockets to their chief. When the spectroscope turned up, Harvey grinned. The eyes of his people twinkled in anticipation.
"Science gadget, huh?" he said. "Folks, there's been too much science in the world and too many words. Any minute now, more bombs are gonna fall. I do my humble bit to help 'em. ”

“ Madson said to Ellenby. "One more victory for science!"
"Miss Vickson, we better be getting on," the chauffeur interrupted, speaking for the first time. His voice was drunkenly thick. "We aren't out of the fusion fringe by a long shot and I don't like the looks of this place."
Rickie ignored him. Ellenby asked, "Was the news about Russia telefaxed?"
"Of course not." Rickie's smile was scornful. "They never tell the real truth these days. But they said to get out of our houses, and what else could that mean?"
"Miss Vickson, we better—" George began again.
"Quiet, George," Rickie ordered. ”

“ Ellenby said. And he seemed in a cheerful humor himself when they climbed to the bridge. "Vera-Ellen," he said, "we've been having an argument as to whether man ruined Nature or Nature ruined man to start with."
"Is this a class, Mr. Ellenby?"
"Of sorts," he told her. Behind him Madson snorted, flipping his Keats to dry the pages. They started off together.
"Well," said Vera-Ellen, "I like Nature and I like ... human beings. And I don't feel ruined at all. Where's the argument?"
"What about the bombs?" Madson demanded automatically. "By man our physicist here means Technology. ”

“ Madson said apprehensively.
"It doesn't look very inviting down there, though," she mused. "Guess I'll wait for Aqua Heaven at New Angeles."
"You're going to New Angeles?" Ellenby put in. It is not easy to be conversationally brilliant while squatting chest deep in muddy water, acutely conscious of the absence of clothes.
Vera-Ellen nodded lazily, leaning on the railing. "Going to get me a city job. With its reduced faculty Ozona holds no more intellectual interest for me. Did you know math's going to be made part of the Home Eck department, Mr. Ellenby?" ”

“ Ellenby hesitated. "Oh, I got to like some of his poetry, quite a while after I wrote the article." He paused again and looked squarely at Madson. "Also, Vera-Ellen was reading me some pieces out of that volume. I guess you'd loaned it to her."
"Vera-Ellen?" Madson's jaw dropped.
Ellenby nodded. "She had trouble with her geometry. Some conferences were necessary." He smiled. "We physicists aren't such a dry-souled tribe, you know."
Madson looked outraged. "Why, you're old enough to be her father!"
"Or her husband," Ellenby replied coolly. "Young women are often attracted to father images. ”

“ Madson asked politely when Rickie came up beaming.
"Old Angeles," she corrected. "My home's in a contaminated area. After 3D lighting I've never been afraid of hard radiations. But this time my psychic counselor told me—Widgie, I'm going to put you away in a nice little urn—that the bombs are going to miss New Angeles and fall on Old. That's why George is jetting me to the mountains. Others drink to still their fears. I do something about it—too."
"You mean you're going away from the studio?" Vera-Ellen demanded incredulously while Ellenby mumbled "Bombs?" ”

“ Of course the technicians could step up the power when they broadcast your hand-squeeze, but the addicts don't feel it's the same thing." She looked sourly at her own delicate claws. "Yes, my dear, you'll have a chance in handies if you don't mind cuddling with two million dirty-minded bohunks every night and if Rickie Vickson's still got any entree at the studios." She made a face and dipped again into the tonneau, apparently to gulp something, for the chauffeur's glare was intensified.
"You're from New Angeles?" ”

“ The fat man stuffed the big handkerchief back in his pocket, wiped his hands on his shirt, rested his wrists lightly on the pistols holstered either side his stomach, looked at the two unarmed men, indicated the hot road with a nod, and said, "There's your way, professors. ”

“ The woman stood in the back seat, swaying slightly. She was wearing a white swim suit and dark teleglasses under her hat. At first she seemed a somewhat ravaged thirty. Then they began to see the rest of the wrinkles. ”