Hemade a signal with his hand and another man came running up. The man ledJason up the steps of the hotel and into the lobby with a promise toexplain everything. He sat Jason in a chair. "Jason, Jason Rowe, JasonRowe," the man's voice pulled at him. He kept repeating the name.
A minute later Zack came into the lobby. "Jason!"
"Hello Zack," Jason said.
"Oh, you're back with us," Zack said. He stared at Jason a long moment."One of these days," he said with a wry grin, "you're not going to makeit."
* * * * *
Bob Herschell came out of the magnificent crystal palace that wasU-Live-It's New York feelie showcase and searched the garden plaza. "Cy!I thought I'd find you here wringing your hands."
"We should never have premiered cold like this," Lemson complained. "Weshould have at least had one private running for the reviewers. Wewouldn't be dangling like this."
"Stop worrying, Cy. A first night lets the critics get caught up in theexcitement. And even if they go sick and thumb down 'Land' it won'tstand against the top power voodoo job the publicity gang is saturatingthe public with. And bigger than all the critics is Jason Rowe. He'sfilled six thousand couches in there with the biggest voluntarycelebrity turnout for any preem."
"Jason Rowe," Lemson sighed, rolling supplicating eyes heavenward. "Hejeopardized a ten million dollar feelie; almost gave _me_ heart failurewhen he had that heart attack."
"Cy, for the sake of the studio don't let people hear you say that. It'snot true! It wasn't a heart attack. He just played the death scene toofully. You know how deep he goes into a role. That's what makes him theworld's greatest actor."
"I don't care what you call it," Lemson said heatedly, "the guy's heart_stopped_ and it was only because of Zack's alertness that they got tohim in time. He almost died. I don't want to be ghoulish about it, Bob,but the studio's putting a lot of time, money and sweat into making thatboy a star--"
"Nobody's making him a star," Herschell cut in, "he was born one."
Herschell had spoken with such honest emphasis that Lemson replied,greatly subdued, "Okay, okay, but we have ourselves a pretty shakyinvestment if every time he dies in a feelie he's liable to really goover the edge."
"Zack thinks he can work out a receptor circuit to keep it fromhappening again. Sort of a subliminal survival monitor that won't showon the strip."
Lemson looked nervously at the theater entrance. "They should be comingout soon," he muttered.
"Ten minutes yet," Herschell assured him.
Inside the shining pleasure dome, six thousand Jed Carters lay dying onan afternoon hillside. The war was gone to another hill and he was alonenow with the grass wind and the small summer sounds of the earth. Hispain was a soft ache like a child's secret tears and his life wasslipping reluctantly from him in a trickling red ribbon. He heard thesweet sound of a bird and the song of it wrung his heart. There were somany songs yet unheard, so much soft laughter unborn, so many caressesyet to be shared; a lifetime of summers, waiting, now never to befilled. His heart cried at the thought of them.
The sun warmed him like a great golden lover and filled him with anineffable sadness for the bright days to come that would never be his.
And now at the last he thought of her. His heart ached for her, cravingone more of those lost mornings when he had awakened in the dawn at hersleeping side and with his eyes happily loved her sweet slumbering face,haloed by the marvel of her wheat hair catching the first glints of thenew sun.
In a last languid movement he turned on his back and opened his eyes tothe bright sky. He felt her stir. Her arm brushed him and the vibrancyof her being sang through him. She opened her eyes and her love smiledout at him. The smile brightened her face until it spread across the skyand grew brilliant like the sun. She reached out for him. He sighed witha great breath of quiet happiness because she was the sun smiling downat him and at last he rose up and went to meet her.
* * * * *
"It's time they were coming out," Herschell said. "Let's get back."
They entered the lobby, deserted except for a scattering of ushers, andwaited.
"Why aren't they coming out?" Lemson asked, more of the emptiness thanof his companion. "It's ten minutes since the scheduled ending. Do yousuppose the projection's broken down or maybe--"
"Relax, Cy, you know these preems. Always a bag full of delays, startingwith late VIP arrivals."
"There've been no delays. They started on time--"
The sound of sirens spiralled out of the night and whirled the two menaround to face the entrance. Lights raced frantically across the plazaas a dozen turbine vehicles whined to a stop in front. More werearriving. Medical teams and squads of policemen burst through the doors.They ran past the slow float shafts to the elevators.
"What's happened?" Lemson screamed. "What's going on?" He tugged at auniformed sleeve but was thrust aside by the running man.
Herschell and Lemson followed, half running, to the elevators. Herschellshouted an inquiry at a cluster of policemen surging into one of thecars but the nearest grim-visaged man almost angrily waved them awayfrom the door as it closed in their faces.
"The manager's office!" Herschell cried and they ran for a privateelevator. Seconds later they dashed into the manager's office.
"He's not here," Lemson wailed.
Herschell snapped a switch on the desk and a harried, shocked faceappeared on the viphone screen. "Mr. Herschell! Mr. Lemson!"
"Pete!" Herschell exclaimed, "why've we got the police and medicos? Anaccident?"
The man's lips quivered as he spoke. "A lot of the patrons are dead."
"WHAT?!! How many?"
"Don't know ... yet ... maybe all," Pete said brokenly.
"What in heaven's name happened?"
"The death scene ... Rowe killed them ..."
"You're crazy!" Herschell shouted. "It's impossible! The projector'striggered to shut off if the patron's in danger."
"What everybody thought," Pete said, "but the house doc said somethingabout the projectors being keyed to extreme agitation; racing pulse,increased blood pressure. That didn't happen here. The people weren'talarmed. Nothing to trigger a shutoff. Doc said the death was ...was ..." Pete turned away, trying to hold back tears.
Herschell kept himself from shouting. "Was what?"
"... was ... sweet ... beautiful ..." Pete's shoulders shook with a spasmof sobs that muffled some of his words, "... should be ... here ... seeit ... kids too ... rows and rows of ... people ... all smiling ..."
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ September 1959. 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.
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