This Immortal (7 page)

typical sad eyes, but his constant chuckle quickly offset them.

We sat sipping beer in the main hall of the inn while we waited for George. Local guards had been sent to relieve him. '

"The work is progressing well," Rameses told me.

"Good," I said, somewhat pleased that no one had asked me what "the work" was. I wanted to surprise them.

"How is your wife, and the children?"

"They are fine," he stated.

"The new

"He has survived-and without defect," he said proudly. "I sent my wife to Corsica until he was delivered. Here is his picture."

I pretended to study it, making the expected appreciative noises. Then, "Speaking of pictures," I said, "do you need any more equipment for the filming?"

"No, we are well-stocked. All goes well. When do you wish to view the work?"

"Just as soon as we have something to eat."

"Are you a Moslem?" interrupted Myshtigo.

"I am of the Coptic faith," replied Rameses, not smiling.

"Oh, really? That was the Monophysite heresy, was it not?"

"We do not consider ourselves heretics," said Rameses.

I sat there wondering if we Greeks had done the right thing in unleashing logic onto a hapless world, as Myshtigo launched into an amusing (to him) catalog of Christian heresies. In a fit of spite at hav-58 ROGER ZELAZNY

ing to guide a tour, I recorded them all in the Tour Log. Later, Lorel told me that it was a fine and well-kept document. Which just goes to show how nasty I must have felt at that moment, I even put in the bit about the accidental canonization of Buddha as St. Josaphat in the sixteenth century. Finally, as Myshtigo sat there mocking us, I realized I would either have to cut him down or change the subject.

Not being a Christian myself, his theological com-edy of errors did not poke me in the religious plex-us. It bothered me, though, that a member of another race had gone to such trouble doing research to make us look like a pack of idiots, Reconsidering the thing at this time, I know now that I was wrong. The success of the viewtape I was making then ("the word" which Rameses had referred to) bears out a more recent hypothesis of mine concerning the Vegans: They were so bloody bored with themselves and we were so novel that they seized upon our perennially popular problems and our classical problems, as well as the one we were currently presenting in the flesh. They engaged in massive speculation as to who really wrote Shakespeare's plays, whether or not Napoleon actually died on St. Helena, who were the first Europeans to set foot on North America, and if the books of Charles Fort indicated that Earth had been visited by an intelligent race unknown to them -and so on. High caste Vegan society just eats up our medieval theological debates, too. Funny.

"About your book, Srin Shtigo ..." I interrupted.

My use of the honorific stopped him.

"Yes?" he answered.

"My impression," said I, "is that you do not wish THIS IMMORTAL 59

to discuss it at any length at this time. I respect this feeling, of course, but it places me in a slightly awkward position as head of this tour." We both knew I should have asked him in private, especially after his reply to Phil at the reception, but I was feeling cantankerous and wanted to let him know it, as well as to rechannel the talk. So, "I'm curious,"

I said, "whether it will be primarily a travelogue of the places we visit, or if you would like assistance in directing your attention to special local conditions of any sort-say, political, or current cultural items."

"I am primarily interested in writing a descriptive travelbook," he said, "but I will appreciate your comments as we go along. I thought that was your job, anyway. As it is, I do have a general awareness of Earth traditions and current affairs, and I'm not very much concerned with them."

DOS Santos, who was pacing and smoking as our meai^was being prepared, stopped in mid-stride and said, "Srin Shtigo, what are your feelings toward the Returnist movement? Are you sympa-thetic with our aims? Or do you consider it a dead issue?"

"Yes," he replied, ^o the latter. I believe that when one is dead one's only obligation then is to satisfy the consumer. I respect your aims, but I do not see how you can possibly hope to realize them.

Why should your people give up the security they now possess to return to this place? Most of the members of the present generation have never even seen the Earth, except on tapes-and you must admit that they are hardly the most encouraging documents,"

"I disagree with you," said DOS Santos, "and I 60 ROGER ZELAZNY

find your attitude dreadfully patrician."

"That is as it should be," replied Myshtigo.

George and the food arrived at about the same time. The waiters began serving the food.

"I should prefer to eat at a small table by myself," DOS Santos instructed a waiter.

"You are here because you asked to be here," I mentioned.

He stopped in mid-flight and cast a furtive look at Red Wig, who happened to be sitting at my right hand-I thought I detected an almost imperceptible movement of her head, first to the left, then to the right.

DOS Santos composed his features around a small smile and bowed slightly.

"Forgive my Latin temperament," he observed.

"I should hardly expect to convert anyone to Returnism in five minutes-and it has always been difficult for me to conceal my feelings."

"That is somewhat obvious."

"I'm hungry, "I said.

He seated himself across from us, next to George.

"Behold the Sphinx," said Red Wig, gesturing toward an etching on the far wall, "whose speech alternates between long periods of silence and an occasional riddle. Old as time. Highly respected.

Doubtless senile. She keeps her mouth shut and waits. For what? Who knows?-Does your taste in art run to the monolithic, Srin Shtigo?"

"Occasionally," he observed, from my left.

DOS Santos glanced once, quickly, over his shoulder, then back at Diane. He said nothing.

I asked Red Wig to pass me the salt and she did.

I really wanted to dump it on her, to make her stay put so that I could study her at my leisure, but I THIS IMMORTAL 61

used it on the potatoes instead.

Behold the Sphinx, indeed!

High sun, short shadows, hot-that's how it was.

I didn't want any sand-cars or Skimmers spoiling the .scene, so I made everybody hike it. It wasn't that far, and I took a slightly roundabout way in order to achieve the calculated effect.

We walked a crooked mile, climbing some, dipping some. I confiscated George's butterfly net so as to prevent any annoying pauses as we passed by the several clover fields which lay along our route.

Walking backward through time, that's how it was-with bright birds flashing by {dare! claret), and a couple camels appearing against the far horizon whenever we topped a small rise. (Camel outlines, really, done up in charcoal; but that's enough. Who cares about a camel's expressions? Not even other camels-not really. Sickening beasts. . . .) A short, swarthy woman trudged past us with a tall jar on her head. Myshtigo remarked on this fact to his pocket secretary, I nodded to the woman and spoke a greeting. The woman returned the greeting but did not nod back, naturally. Ellen, moist already, kept fanning herself with a big green feather tri-angle; Red Wig walked tall, tiny beads of per-spiration seasoning her upper lip, eyes hidden behind sunshades which had darkened themselves as much as they could. Finally, we were there. We climbed the last, low hill.

"Behold," said Rameses.

"/A/arfre de Diosf^ said DOS Santos.

Hasan grunted.

Red Wig turned toward me quickly, then turned away. I couldn't read her expression because of the 62 ROGER ZELAZNY

shades. Ellen kept fanning herself-

"What are they doing? asked Myshtigo. It was the first time I had seen him genuinely surprised.

"Why, they're dismantling the great pyramid of Cheops," I said.

After a time Red Wig asked it.

"Why?"

"Well now," I told her, "they're kind of short on building materials hereabouts, the stuff from Old Cairo being radioactive-so they're obtaining it by knocking apart that old piece of solid geometry out there."

"They are desecrating a monument to the past glories of the human race!*' she exclaimed.

"Nothing is cheaper than past glories," I observed. "It's the present that we're concerned with, and they need building materials now."

"For how long has this been going on?" asked Myshtigo, his words rushing together.

"It was three days ago," said Rameses, "that we began the dismantling."

"What gives you the right to do a thing like that?"

"It was authorized by the Earthoffice Department of Arts, Monuments and Archives, Srin."

Myshtigo turned to me, his amber eyes glowing strangely.

"You! "he said.

"I," I acknowledged, "am Commissioner thereof

-that is correct."

"Why has no one else heard of this action of lil

3"

yours r

"Because very few people come here anymore," I explained. -"Which is another good reason for dismantling the thing. It doesn't even get looked at THIS IMMORTAL 63

much these days. I do have the authority to authorize such actions."

"I came here from another world to see it!"

"Well, take a quick look, then," I told him. "It's going away fast,"

He turned and stared.

"You obviously have no conception of its intrinsic value. Or if you do ..."

"On the contrary, I know exactly what it's worth."

". . . And those unfortunate creatures you have working down there"-his voice rose as he studied the scene -"under the hot rays of your ugly sun-they're laboring under the most primitive conditions! Haven't you ever heard of moving machinery?"

"Of course. It's expensive."

"All those men volunteered for the job, at token salaries-and Actors' Equity won't let us use the whips, even though the men argued in favor of it.

All we're allowed to do is crack them in the air near them."

"Actors' Equity?"

"Their union. -Want to see some machinery?"

I gestured, "Look up on that hill."

He did.

"What's going on there?"

"We're recording it on viewtape."

"To what end?"

"When we're finished we're going to edit it down to viewable length and run it backwards. 'The Building of the Great Pyramid,' we're going to call it. Should be good for some laughs-also money.

Your historians have been conjecturing as to exactly how we put it together ever since the day they 64 ROGER ZELAZNY

heard about it. This may make them somewhat happier. I decided a B.F.M.I, operation would go over best."

"B.F.M.L?"

"Brute Force and Massive Ignorance-Look at them jamming it up, will you?-following the cam-era, lying down and standing up quickly when it swings in their direction. They'll be collapsing all over the place in the finished product. But then, this is the first Earthfilm in years. They're real excited."

DOS Santos regarded Red Wig's bared teeth and the bunched muscles beneath her eyes. He glared at the pyramid.

"You are a madman!" he announced.

"No," I replied. "The absence of a monument can, in its own way, be something of a monument also."

"A monument to Conrad Nomikos," he stated.

"No," said Red Wig then. "There is destructive art as surely as there is creative art. I think he may be attempting such a thing. He is playing Caligula.

Perhaps I can even see why."

"Thank you."

"You are not welcome. I said 'perhaps.' -An artist does it with love."

"Love is a negative form of hatred."

" *I am dying, Egypt, dying,' " said Ellen.

Myshtigo laughed.

"You are tougher than I thought, Nomikos," he observed. "But you are not indispensable."

"Try having a civil servant fired-especially me."

"It might be easier than you think."

"We'll see."

"We may."

We turned again toward the great 90 percent THIS IMMORTAL 65

pyramid of Cheops/Khufu. Myshtigo began taking notes once more.

"I'd rather you viewed it from here, for now," I said. "Our presence would waste valuable footage.

We're anachronisms. We can go down during coffee break."

"I agree," said Myshtigo, "and I am certain I know an anachronism when I see one. But I have seen all that I care to here. Let us go back to the inn. I wish to talk with the locals."

After a moment, "I'll see Sakkara ahead of schedule, then," he mused. "You haven't begun dismantling all the monuments of Luxor, Karnak, and the Valley of Kings yet, have you?"

"Not yet, no."

"Good. Then well visit them ahead of time."

"Then let's not stand here," said Ellen. "This heat is beastly."

So we returned.

"Do you really mean everything you say?" asked Diane as we walked back.

"In my fashion."

"How do you think of such things?"

"In Greek, of course. Then I translate them into English. I'm real good at it."

"Who are you?"

"Ozymandias. Look at my works ye mighty and despair."

"I'm not mighty."

"I wonder. ..." I said, and I left the pan of her face that I could see wearing a rather funny expression as we walked along.

"Let me tell you of the boadile," said I.

Our felucca moved slowly along that dazzling 66

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waterpath that burns its way before the great gray colonnades of Luxor. Myshtigo's back was to me.

He was staring at those columns, dictating an occasional impression.

"Where will we put ashore?" he asked me.

"About a mile further up ahead. Perhaps I had better tell you about the boadile.'*

"I know what a boadile is. I told you that I had studied your world."

"Uh-huh. Reading about them is one thing . . ."

"I have also seen boadiles. There are four in the Earthgarden on Taler."

". . . and seeing them in a tank is another thing."

"Between yourself and Hasan we are a veritable floating aresenal. I count three grenades on your belt, four on his."