The God Next Door — A Reader’s Guide

He stumbled toward the pool's wall and clutched for support, but his knees buckled. His hand slid down the wall, over the ancient inscriptions. He sank to the floor. Before he lost consciousness he wondered, fleetingly, if a lethal instrument was in the statue.

He woke with a ringing in his ears, feeling drugged and sluggish. Sounds came to him. He opened his eyes.

The cavern was crowded. These creatures were not only humanoid, but definitely human, although more slight of build than earth people. The only difference he could see at first sight was that they had webbed feet. All were dressed from the waist down only, in a shimmering skirt that sparkled as they moved. They walked with the grace of ballet dancers, moving about the plaza, conversing in a musical language with no meaning for Stinson. The men were dark-skinned, the women somewhat lighter, with long flowing hair, wide lips and a beauty that was utterly sensual.

He was in chains! They were small chains, light weight, of a metal that looked like aluminum. But all his strength could not break them.

They saw him struggling. Two of the men came over and spoke to him in the musical language.

"My name is Stinson," he said, pointing to himself. "I'm from the planet Earth."

They looked at each other and jabbered some more.

"Look," he said, "Earth. E-A-R-T-H, Earth." He pointed upward, described a large circle, then another smaller, and showed how Earth revolved around the sun.

One of the men poked him with a stick, or tube of some kind. It did not hurt, but angered him. He left the chains by his own method of travel, and reappeared behind the two men. They stared at the place where he had been. The chains tinkled musically. He grasped the shoulder of the offender, spun him around and slapped his face.

A cry of consternation rose from the group, echoing in the high ceilinged cavern. "SBTL!" it said, "ZBTL ... XBTL ... zbtl."

The men instantly prostrated themselves before him. The one who had poked Stinson with the stick rose, and handed it to him. Still angered, Stinson grasped it firmly, with half a notion to break it over his head. As he did so, a flash of blue fire sprang from it. The man disappeared. A small cloud of dust settled slowly to the floor.

Stinson's face drained pale, and suddenly, unaccountably, he was ashamed because he had no clothes.

"I didn't mean to kill him!" he cried. "I was angry, and...."

Useless. They could not understand. For all he knew, they might think he was threatening them. The object he had thought of as a stick was in reality a long metal tube, precisely machined, with a small button near one end.

This weapon was completely out of place in a culture such as this. Or was it? What did he know of these people? Very little. They were humanoid. They had exhibited human emotions of anger, fear and, that most human of all characteristics, curiosity. But up to now the tube and the chain was the only evidence of an advanced technology, unless the ancient inscriptions in the stone wall of the pool, and the statues lining the wall were evidences.

There was a stirring among the crowd. An object like a pallet was brought, carried by four of the women. They laid it at his feet, and gestured for him to sit. He touched it cautiously, then sat.

Instantly he sprang to his feet. There, at the cavern entrance, the wind devil writhed and undulated in a brilliant harmony of colors. It remained in one spot, though, and he relaxed somewhat.

One of the women came toward him, long golden hair flowing, firm breasts dipping slightly at each step. Her eyes held a language all their own, universal. She pressed her body against him and bore him to the pallet, her kisses fire on his face.

Incongruously, he thought of Benjamin back on earth, and all the others with cylinders, who might be fighting for their lives at this moment. He pushed her roughly aside.

She spoke, and he understood! Her words were still the same gibberish, but now he knew their meaning. Somehow he knew also that the wind devil was responsible for his understanding.

"You do not want me?" she said sadly. "Then kill me."

"Why should I kill you?"

She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. "It is the way of the Gods," she said. "If you do not, then the others will."

He took the tube-weapon in his hands, careful not to touch the button. "Don't be afraid. I didn't mean to kill the man. It was an accident. I will protect you."