The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut
"We could be there in a matter of hours," said Salo, "now that the ship's running right again."
"It's lonely here," said Constant "now that--" He shook his head.
On the trip back to Earth, Salo suspected that he had made a tragic mistake in suggesting to Constant that he return to Earth. He had begun to suspect this when Constant insisted on being taken to Indianapolis, Indiana, U.S.A.
This insistence of Constant's was a dismaying development, since Indianapolis was far from an ideal place for a homeless old man.
Salo wanted to let him off by a shuffleboard court in St. Petersburg, Florida, U.S.A., but Constant, after the fashion of old men, could not be shaken from his first decision. He wanted to go to Indianapolis, and that was that.
Salo assumed that Constant had relatives or possibly old business connections in Indianapolis, but this turned out not to be the case.
"I don't know anybody in Indianapolis, and I don't know anything about Indianapolis except for one thing," said Constant, "a thing I read in a book."
"What did you read in a book?" said Salo uneasily.
"Indianapolis, Indiana," said Constant, "is the first place in the United States of America where a white man was hanged for the murder of an Indian. The kind of people who'll hang a white man for murdering an Indian--" said Constant, "that's the kind of people for me."
Salo's head did a somersault in its gimbals. His feet made grieved sucking sounds on the iron floor. His passenger, obviously, knew almost nothing about the planet toward which he was being carried with a speed approaching that of light.
At least Constant had money.
There was hope in that. He had close to three thousand dollars in various Earthling currencies, taken from the pockets of Rumfoord's suits in the Taj Mahal.
And at least he had clothes.
He had on a terribly baggy but good tweed suit of Rumfoord's, complete with a Phi Beta Kappa key that hung from the watch chain that spanned the front of the vest.
Salo had made Constant take the key along with the suit.
Constant had a good overcoat, a hat, and overshoes, too.
With Earth only an hour away, Salo wondered what else he could do to make the remainder of Constant's life supportable, even in Indianapolis.
And he decided to hypnotize Constant, in order that the last few seconds of Constant's life, at least, would please the old man tremendously. Constant's life would end well.
Constant was already in a nearly hypnotic state, staring out at the Cosmos through a porthole.
Salo came up behind him and spoke to him soothingly.
"You are tired, so very tired, Space Wanderer, Malachi, Unk," said Salo. "Stare at the faintest star, Earthling, and think how heavy your limbs are growing."
"Heavy," said Constant.
"You are going to die some day, Unk," said Salo. "Sorry, but it's true."
"True," said Constant. "Don't be sorry."
"When you know you are dying, Space Wanderer," said Salo hypnotically, "a wonderful thing will happen to you." He then described to Constant the happy things that Constant would imagine before his life flickered out.
It would be a post-hypnotic illusion.
"Awake!" said Salo.
Constant shuddered, turned away from the porthole. "Where am I?" he said.
"On a Tralfamadorian space ship out of Titan, bound for Earth," said Salo.
"Oh," said Constant. "Of course," he said a moment later. "I must have been asleep."
"Take a nap," said Salo.
"Yes--I--I think I will," said Constant. He lay down on a bunk. He dropped off to sleep.
Salo strapped the sleeping Space Wanderer to his bunk. Then he strapped himself to his seat at the controls. He set three dials, double-checked the reading on each. He pressed a bright red button.
He sat back. There was nothing more to do now. From now on everything was automatic. In thirty-six minutes, the ship would land itself near the end of a bus line on the outskirts of Indianapolis, Indiana, U.S.A., Earth, Solar System, Milky Way.
It would be three in the morning there.
It would also be winter.
The space ship landed in four inches of fresh snow in a vacant lot on the south side of Indianapolis. No one was awake to see it land.
Malachi Constant got out of the space ship.
"That's your bus stop over there, old soldier," whispered Salo. It was necessary to whisper, for a two-story frame house with an open bedroom window was only thirty feet away. Salo pointed to a snowy bench by the street. "You'll have to wait about ten minutes," he whispered. "The bus will take you right into the center of town. Ask the driver to let you off near a good hotel."
Constant nodded. "I'll be all right," he whispered.
"How do you feel?" whispered Salo.
"Warm as toast," whispered Constant.
The complaint of a vaguely disturbed sleeper came from the open bedroom window near by. "Aw, somebody," the sleeper complained, "afo wa, de-yah, ummmmmmmmmmmm."
"You really all right?" whispered Salo.
"Yes. Fine," whispered Constant. "Warm as toast."
"Good luck," whispered Salo.
"We don't say that down here," whispered Constant.
Salo winked. "I'm not from down here," he whispered. He looked around at the perfectly white world, felt the wet kisses of the snowflakes, pondered hidden meanings in the pale yellow streetlights that shone in a world so whitely asleep. "Beautiful," he whispered.
"Isn't it?" whispered Constant.
"Sim-faw!" cried the sleeper menacingly, to anyone who might menace his sleep. "Soo! A-so! What's a mabba? Nf."
"You better go," whispered Constant.
"Yes," whispered Salo.
"Good-by," whispered Constant, "and thanks."
"You're entirely welcome," whispered Salo. He backed into the ship, closed the airlock. The ship arose with the sound of a man blowing over the mouth of a bottle. It disappeared into the swirling snow and was gone.
"Toodle-oo," it said.
Malachi Constant's feet squeaked in the snow as he walked to the bench. He brushed aside the snow on the bench and sat down.
"Fraugh!" cried the sleeper, as though he suddenly understood all.
"Braugh!" he cried, not liking at all what he suddenly understood.
"Sup-foe!" he said, saying in no uncertain terms what he was going to do about it.
"Floof!" he cried.
The conspirators presumably fled.
More snow fell.
The bus Malachi Constant was waiting for ran two hours late that morning--on account of the snow. When the bus did come it was too late. Malachi Constant was dead.
Salo had hypnotized him so that he would imagine, as he died, that he saw his best and only friend, Stony Stevenson.
As the snow drifted over Constant, he imagined that the clouds opened up, letting through a sunbeam, a sunbeam all for him.
A golden space ship encrusted with diamonds came skimming down the sunbeam, landed in the untouched snow of the street.
Out stepped a stocky, red-headed man with a big cigar. He was young. He wore the uniform of the Martian Assault Infantry, Unk's old outfit.
"Hello, Unk," he said. "Get in."
"Get in?" said Constant. "Who are you?"
"Stony Stevenson, Unk. You don't recognize me?"
"Stony?" said Constant. "That's you, Stony?"
"Who else could stand the bloody pace?" said Stony. He laughed. "Get in," he said.
"And go where?" said Constant.
"Paradise," said Stony.
"What's Paradise like?" said Constant.
"Everybody's happy there forever," said Stony, "or as long as the bloody Universe holds together. Get in, Unk. Beatrice is already there, waiting for you."
"Beatrice?" said Unk, getting into the space ship.
Stony closed the airlocks, pressed the on button.
"We're--we're going to Paradise now?" said Constant. "I--I'm going to get into Para
"Don't ask me why, old sport," said Stony, "but somebody up there likes you."
Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan
(Series: # )