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PLEASANT JOURNEY
It's nice to go on a pleasant journey. There is, however, a very difficult question concerning the other half of the ticket ...
BY RICHARD F. THIEME
Illustrated by George Schelling
"What do you call it?" the buyer asked Jenkins.
"I named it 'Journey Home' but you can think up a better name for it ifyou want. I'll guarantee that it sells, though. There's nothing like iton any midway."
"I'd like to try it out first, of course," Allenby said. "Star-Time usesonly the very best, you know."
"Yes, I know," Jenkins said. He had heard the line before, from almostevery carnival buyer to whom he had sold. He did not do much businesswith the carnivals; there weren't enough to keep him busy with large orworthwhile rides and features. The amusement parks of the big citieswere usually the best markets.
Allenby warily eyed the entrance, a room fashioned from a side-showbooth. A rough red curtain concealed the inside. Over the doorway, incrude dark blue paint, was lettered, "Journey Home." Behind the doorwaywas a large barnlike structure, newly painted white, where Jenkins didhis planning, his building, and his finishing. When he sold a new rideit was either transported from inside the building through the large,pull-away doors in back or taken apart piece by piece and shipped to thepark or carny that bought it.
"Six thousand's a lot of money," the buyer said.
"Just try it," Jenkins told him.
The buyer shrugged. "O.K.," he said. "Let's go in." They walked throughthe red curtain. Inside the booth-entrance was a soft-cushionedeasy-chair, also red, secured firmly in place. It was a piece of salvagefrom a two-engine commercial airplane. A helmet looking like a FlashGordon accessory-hair drier combination was set over it. Jenkins flippeda switch and the room became bright with light. "I thought you said thiswasn't a thrill ride," Allenby said, looking at the helmetlike structureominously hanging over the chair.
"It isn't," Jenkins said, smiling. "Sit down." He strapped the buyerinto place in the chair.
"Hey, wait a minute," Allenby protested. "Why the straps?"
"Leave everything to me and don't worry," Jenkins said, fitting theheadgear into place over the buyer's head. The back of it fitted easilyover the entire rear of the skull, down to his neck. The front came justbelow the eyes. After turning the light off, Jenkins pulled the curtainclosed. It was completely black inside.
"Have a nice trip," Jenkins said, pulling a switch on the wall andpushing a button on the back of the chair at the same time.
Currents shifted and repatterned themselves inside the helmet and werefed into Allenby at the base of his skull, at the medulla. The currentsof alternating ions mixed with the currents of his varied and randombrain waves, and the impulses of one became the impulses of the other.Allenby jerked once with the initial shock and was then still, his mindand body fused with the pulsating currents of the chair.
Suddenly, Roger Allenby was almost blinded by bright, naked light.Allenby's first impression was one of disappointment at the failure ofthe device. Jenkins was reliable, usually, and hadn't come up with afluke yet.
Allenby got out of the chair and called for Jenkins, holding on to thearm of the chair to keep his bearings. "Hey! Where are you? Jenkins!" Hetried to look around him but the bright, intense light revealed nothing.He swore to himself, extending his arms in front of him for something tograsp. As he groped for a solid, the light became more subdued andshifted from white into a light, pleasant blue.
* * * * *
Shapes and forms rearranged themselves in front of him and graduallybecame distinguishable. He was in a city, or on top of a city. Apanoramic view was before him and he saw the creations of human beings,obviously, but a culture far removed from his. A slight path of whitebegan at his feet and expanded as it fell slightly, ramplike, over andinto the city. The buildings were whiter than the gate of false dreamsthat Penelope sung of and the streets and avenues were blue, not gray.The people wore white and milled about in the streets below him. Theyshouted as one; their voices were not cries but songs and they sang hisname.
He started walking on the white strip. It was flexible and supported hisweight easily. Then he was running, finding his breath coming in sharpgasps and he was among the crowds. They smiled at him as he passed byand held out their hands to him. Their faces shone with a brilliance ofawareness and he knew that they loved him. Troubled, frightened, he keptrunning, blindly, and, abruptly, there were no people, no buildings.
He was walking now, at the left side of a modern super-highway, againstthe traffic. Autos sped by him, too quickly for him to determine theyear of model. Across the divider the traffic was heavier, autosspeeding crazily ahead in the direction he was walking; none stopped. Hehalted for a moment and looked around him. There was nothing on thesides of the road: no people, no fields, no farms, no cities, noblackness. There was nothing. But far ahead there was green etchedaround the horizon as the road dipped and the cars sped over it. Hewalked more quickly, catching his breath, and came closer and closer tothe green.
Allenby stopped momentarily and turned around, looking at the highwaythat was behind him. It was gone. Only bleak, black and gray hills ofrock and rubble were there, no cars, no life. He shuddered and continuedon toward the end of the highway. The green blended in with the blue ofthe sky now. Closer he came, until just over the next rise in the roadthe green was bright. Not knowing or caring why, he was filled withexpectation and he ran again and was in the meadow.
All around him were the greens of the grasses and leaves and the yellowsand blues of the field flowers. It was warm, a spring day, with none ofthe discomfort of summer heat. Jubilant, Roger spun around in circles,inhaling the fragrance of the field, listening to the hum of insect lifestirring back to awareness after a season of inactivity. Then he wasrunning and tumbling, barefoot, his shirt open, feeling the soft grassgive way underfoot and the soil was good and rich beneath him.
He saw a stream ahead, with clear water melodiously flowing by him. Hewent to it and drank, the cold, good water quenching all his thirst,clearing all the stickiness of his throat and mind. He dashed the wateron his face and was happy and felt the coolness of it as the breezepicked up and swept his hair over his forehead. With a shake of his headhe tossed it back in place and ran again, feeling the air rush into hislungs with coolness and vibrance unknown since adolescence. No nicotinespasms choked him and the air was refreshing.
Then up the hill he sped, pushing hard, as the marigolds and dandelionsparted before him. At the top he stopped and looked and smiledecstatically as he saw the green rolling land and the stream, curvingaround from behind the house, his house, the oaks forming a secret lairbehind it, and he felt the youth of the world in his lungs and under hisfeet. He heard the voice calling from that house, his house, calling himto Saturday lunch.
"I'm coming!" he cried happily and was tumbling down the hill, rollingover and over, the hill and ground and sky blending blues and greens andnothing had perspective. The world was spinning and everything was blackagain. He shook his head to clear the dizziness.
* * * * *
"Well?" Jenkins said. "How was it?"
Allenby looked up at him as Jenkins swung the helmet back and unhookedthe seatbelt. He squinted as Jenkins flipped the light switch and thebrightness hit him.
His surroundings became distinguishable again very slowly and he knew hewas back in the room. "Where was I?" he asked.
Jenkins shrugged. "I don't know. It was all yours. You went wherever youwanted to go, wherever home is." Jenkins smiled down at him. "Did youvisit more than one
place?" he asked. The buyer nodded. "I thought so.It seems that a person tries a few before finally deciding where to go."
The buyer stood up and stretched. "Could I please see the barn?" heasked, meaning the huge workshop where Jenkins did the constructionwork.
"Sure," Jenkins said and opened the door opposite the red curtain intothe workshop. It was empty.
"You mean it was all up here? I didn't move at all?" He tapped hiscranium with his index finger.
"That's right," Jenkins said anxiously. "Do you want it or not?"
Allenby stood looking into the empty room. "Yes ... yes, of course," hesaid. "How long did the whole thing last?"
"About ten seconds," Jenkins said, looking at his watch. "It seems muchlonger to the traveler. I'm not sure, but I think the imagined timevaries with each person. It's always around ten seconds of actual time,though, so you can make a lot of money on it, even if you only have onemachine."
"Money?" Allenby said. "Money, yes, of course." He took a checkbook fromhis inside pocket and hurriedly wrote a check for six thousand dollars."When can we have it delivered?" he asked.
"You want it shipped the usual way?"
"No," Allenby said, staring at the red-cushioned chair. "Send it airfreight. Then bill us for the expense."
"Whatever you say," Jenkins said, smiling, taking the check. "You'llhave it by the first of the week, probably. I'll put a complete partsand assembly manual inside the crate."
"Good, good. But maybe I should test it again, you know. Star-Time can'treally afford to make a mistake as expensive as this."
"No," Jenkins said quickly. Then, "I'll guarantee it, of course. If itdoesn't work out, I'll give you a full refund. But don't try it again,today. Don't let anyone have it more than once in one day. Stamp them onthe hand or something when they take the trip."
"Why?"
Jenkins looked troubled. "I'm not sure, but people might not want tocome back. Too many times in a row and they might be able to staythere ... in their minds of course."
"Of course, of course. Well, it's been a pleasure doing business withyou, Mr. Jenkins. I hope to see you again soon." They walked back toAllenby's not-very-late model car and shook hands. Allenby drove away.
On the way back to the hotel, and as he lay for a long time in thebathtub, letting the warmness drift away from the water, the thought ranover and over in his mind. They might be able to stay there, Allenbysaid to himself. They might be able to stay there. He smiled warmly at acrack in the plaster as he thought of the first of the week and thefragrant meadow.
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Analog Science Fact & Fiction_ November 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.