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Read Ebook: Es Percipi by Marlowe Stephen Terry W E Illustrator
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Ebook has 589 lines and 15827 words, and 12 pages
d touch it--if it was hot it burned your hand, Bryan--and you had to chew it and swallow it. If you ate too fast it might even give you an upset stomach."
"But it wasn't real," Channing protested.
"Then what is real? Look at me."
"Um, pretty," said Channing.
"Stop that. Stop trying to change the subject. It's all well and good for you to talk about these things in the office, but you never want to talk about them with me. Touch me. Go on, touch me."
Feeling mildly ridiculous, Channing placed his big hand on the fuzzy red material covering his wife's shoulder. "So what does that prove?" he said.
"Stand up. Turn around."
He stood up, pushing the chair back. He turned around, facing the entrance to the living room.
"Where am I?"
"Where are you? Right behind me, of course. Sitting down at the table."
"How do you know?"
"I--I just know."
"Are you sure? Can you be sure?"
"I just saw you there, damnit!"
"But you don't see me here now, unless you have eyes in the back of your head, dear. How do you know I'm still here, unless you see me?"
"Because you didn't get up and go away, that's why. I would have heard you."
"No. Yes. I read all about the idealists in college, too. Berkeley, Hume...."
"The Qui Dor people say they have the right idea. To be is to be perceived. As soon as you stop perceiving me--or anything--it no longer exists. As soon as you see me again, here I am. If you carry it to extremes, the notion can lead to solipsism, but--"
"--but," Channing finished for her, "you can thank the good Lord that Bishop Berkeley was no pagan and saved himself and the rest of us from that way of thinking. Sure, to be is to be perceived. Maybe nothing does exist unless it's being perceived, but that's where God comes in. God is the constant conserver, he said. God is always looking at everything. So everything always exists."
"But the Targoffians are atheists, dear," Ellen pointed out with exasperating logic. "You may turn around now."
Channing turned around and glared at her.
"You see, it works. I don't know what you're getting so mad about."
"Then I'll tell you. What would happen if I went on eating meals like that for a couple of weeks."
"You'd lose weight, dear. You'd fit into that bathing suit I bought you for our third anniversary."
"I'm serious, damnit."
"You'd be awful hungry. You'd suffer from malnutrition. But the concentrates come along with the food cabinet."
"Forget about the food cabinet. You're going to get rid of it tomorrow. I want to ask you something else. Who did Fanny marry?"
"She didn't yet. She's getting married on Saturday, she said."
"My mistake," growled Channing. Ulcer potential was now following him home from the office. "Who is she going to marry?"
"Whom."
"Yes."
"Someone sent by the Qui Dor people."
"Will he be real?"
"We just went through all that."
"Will I be able to see him?"
"Yes."
"Anybody?"
"Of course. You see, he's real. Not only that, he'll be the ideal husband. At least, he'll be Fanny's ideal husband. You have a wide variety to choose from, they told me. You can even buy one whose temperament changes to suit yours day by day."
"There were fifty thousand divorces in New York so far this week," said Channing, "according to the under-secretary of Health and Public Welfare. Have you any idea why?"
"I guess people were shedding their spouses to marry the ideal mate before the price went up. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"I think so," Channing said. "I didn't think so before. I told the under-secretary not to get so upset. But I want you to answer one question. Will Fanny's husband be able to give her children?"
"No," Ellen conceded.
"You get rid of the food cabinet tomorrow."
Within a week, the brick wall became a nightmare. Health and Welfare met with State on the highest level. Health stood firm: something must be done about the situation. Health's figures were not only impressive, they were downright frightening. In Buenos Aires, where Latin tempers flared and, anyway, summer was approaching, one out of every two recent marriages and one out of three of older vintage could be expected to end in the divorce courts--if annulment did not get them first. In Paris, the shrugging French found the answer in multiple marriage, provided not more than one of the partners was a bona fide human being. In Russia it became illegal to talk of Qui Dor's creations: they did not exist.
State was equally firm: the cause of the situation could not at this time be removed. Health must find its own internal solution. The Denebian Ambassador began to pass snide remarks and send home delightful tidbits of propaganda--was it true that the wife of the President of United Amereurope had visited the attorney general's brother-in-law concerning the possibility of divorce?
The Council of International Security met with the President, who had been called home from his Martian vacation. Health was adamant; State left the conference with a won point but a red face. The Denebian Ambassador received a copy of the minutes of the special session and gloated. Some said Health had maliciously given the transcript to the saurian from Deneb. State marched into Bryan Channing's office with his red face and demanded a solution. Someone, said State, would have to resign.
"Which would solve nothing," Channing told his boss glumly.
"But we might get off the hook. What about that explorer, Nicholson?"
"He did his job," said Channing. "Just like I'm trying to do mine."
"The wolves are howling from both directions," pleaded State. "You've got to do something."
"That's the trouble. Both directions. If we get rid of Qui Dor and tell the Targoffians we no longer want to maintain diplomatic relations, Deneb howls and we lose prestige. If we leave Qui Dor alone, Health and Public Welfare raises a stink."
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