Moreau’s Other Island. Brian Aldiss

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СКАЧАТЬ uttered a grunt which might have represented laughter. ‘I am in charge here, that’s for sure … And I can’t very well have you thrown back into the ocean.’

      ‘That’s big of you. I’ve told you my name. Roberts. What’s your name?’

      His lip curled slightly. ‘You call me Master, same as the rest of them do.’ He swung himself about with a violent bodily motion and began striding back the way he had come. I followed.

      We made our way along what served as a wretched street for the native village. The natives, having gathered their courage, had returned to peer at us. They uttered apotropaic phrases as their Master went by.

      ‘His is the Hand that Maims …’

      ‘His is the Head that Blames …’

      ‘His is the Whip that Tames …’

      Beyond the little ragged village lay the lagoon. The road skirted it, winding past its tranquil green waters to buildings glimpsed through trees. Beyond everything was a steep hill, its grey cliffs looming above the forest. However mean the affairs of men, nature had added a note of grandeur.

      It was impossible to keep up with the great mechanical strides of the self-styled Master. I lagged farther and farther behind. There was a gang of natives working on the far side of the lagoon, where I observed a mobile crane; they stopped work to stare at us.

      My vision began to waver as I moved uphill. A stockade of tall and rusty metal posts stood here. The top of the stockade was decorated with barbed wire, strand after entangled strand of it. The Master halted at a narrow gate in the wall, stooping awkwardly to unlock it. I heard tumblers click back. He turned a wheel, the gate swung open, and he passed in. As soon as I had followed him, he pushed the gate shut and locked it from the inside.

      Weakness overcame me. I fell to one knee.

      ‘Bella!’ he called, ignoring me.

      I rose again, making my way forward as a strange figure came out of a building towards us. It was wearing a dress. It – no, she, Bella – had the short deformed legs common to most of the other islanders. Her skin was a dull pink. Her face was as hideous as George’s and his fellows’, although her eyes were curiously – lambent, I believe the word is. They seemed to glow and had an oriental cast. She would not look directly at me, although she approached readily enough while listening to what the Master was telling her.

      To my surprise she came straight up to me and attempted to lift me off my feet. I felt a sort of nervous thrill at her embrace. Then I collapsed.

      My senses never entirely left me. I was aware of strange faces about, and of being carried into a shadowy room. Something cool was placed on my forehead. Water was poured into my mouth; I could hardly swallow, and the cup was taken away. Then my eyes were bandaged. I lay without volition as expert hands ran over my body and I was given a thorough examination. These were things that hardly registered at the time, although they came back to me afterwards.

      When I finally roused myself, the bandage was off my eyes. I lay naked under a sheet and felt refreshed. As I propped myself up on one elbow, I saw that an ointment to soothe my sunburns had been applied to my chest and face. The woman called Bella sat hunched in one corner of the room. Her eyes flashed greenly at me as she turned her head.

      ‘You – feel OK now?’

      ‘I think so.’

      ‘You like whisky?’

      ‘Thanks, but I don’t drink.’

      ‘No drink? You drink water.’

      ‘I meant that I don’t drink whisky.’

      She stared motionlessly at me. She had short dark hair. I wondered if it was a wig. She had a nose that resembled a cat’s muzzle.

      ‘Thanks for seeing me through, Bella. I was in a bad way. Just reaction.’

      ‘I tell Master.’ She slunk away, hardly opening the door enough to get through, closing it directly she was through it. Decidedly feline.

      The room took on new proportions as soon as she had gone. My body felt extremely light. Well, I said to myself, that’s how it is, here on the Moon. You mustn’t expect reality. Reality here is only one-sixth of what it is on Earth.

      Without any sense of effort, I climbed out of bed and found it was easy to stand on my two feet if I stretched out my arms for balance. Being naked made things much easier. I floated over to my one unglazed window. No glass: but of course there were no minerals on the Moon.

      ‘M for Moon,’ I told myself aloud.

      There was music, played close by, music and the strong heat of a tropical day. The music was Haydn’s, that composer who had come to dominate all the others, even Bach and Beethoven, in the last decade. I believed it was his Fifty-Fourth Symphony being played. Haydn and heat …

      By some trick of the mind, I remembered who Moreau was.

      I was gazing out at an untidy courtyard. Cans of paint were stacked there, sheets of wood, and panels of metal. Maastricht, still clutching his bottle, crossed my line of sight. I had forgotten he was on the Moon.

      I heard the Master shouting at him. ‘Why the hell did you dump that politician where you did? It was asking for trouble – this is no funfair! Suppose George had—’

      ‘I didn’t bother to take him round to the harbour because I was in a haste to get to the fish nets, like you told me,’ Maastricht’s voice replied. I’ve had enough shouting at for one day. George brought him in safely, didn’t he?’

      ‘I had to go and rescue the man. They were about to tear him apart, just to put you in the picture.’

      ‘Pfhuh! I don’t believe you. Anyway, what do we do with the guy now he’s here?’

      ‘You know he can’t be allowed to stay. Hypothesize, man. Suppose he took it into his head to team up with Warren?’

      ‘Jeez, don’t mention Warren … Let it ride a while, Master. It’s time I had a drink.’

      There was more, but strange waves were radiating through my head, bringing darkness. I staggered back to the bed, tucked a hand under the pillow and fell into a deep, troubled sleep. Over and over again, I was half-roused by the terrors of my dreams, in which the recurrent motif was a gigantic letter M, black, carved sometimes from rock, sometimes from flesh. Occasionally I roused to find the woman Bella ministering to me, or clumsily mopping my brow.

      Since I was on the Moon, things were pleasant that would otherwise have been unpleasant. In her cat-like fashion Bella pressed herself against me. Her mouth, with its sharp incisors, lay against mine. I enjoy power, and the wielding of it; in any given situation I will manoeuvre until I am in control; but with Bella against me, fawning yet predatory, I relished the weakness in which I floated. Things go like that on Luna.

      At last a time came when I sat up and was absolutely clear in my head. My internal clocks told me I had been in a fever for two or more days. Neatly pressed clothes lay by my bed. I climbed out and stood. My shanks looked thinner than before. I tested my balance, and a faint heaving still lingered, a phantom of the days adrift in the boat; but I took command СКАЧАТЬ