Jack Chalker: Midnight at the Well of Souls

He reached the highlands by carefully pulling himself together.

Now that he had decided on a course of action, he felt calm.

There! Up ahead! his mind said joyfully. He stopped and looked over the edge of the cliff.

Over a kilometer straight down to the rocks, he saw with satisfaction. He ran back a long ways, then turned toward the cliff. With strong resolve, he ran with all his might toward the cliff and hurled himself over it.

He saw the rocks coming up to meet him, but felt only the slight shock of pain.

Skander awoke. The very fact that he awoke was a shock, and he looked around.

He was back on that plain at the edge of the forest. His shadow told him.

He was a deer again.

No! his mind screamed in horror. I’ll cheat the bastard yet! Somehow I’ll cheat him!

But there were a lot of deer and a lot of Murnies on that world, and Skander still had six more times to die.

Varnett groaned, then opened his eyes. He felt cold. He looked around him and saw a number of people peering at him anxiously.

They all looked exactly alike. They didn’t even look particularly male or female. Slight breasts and nipples, but nothing really female. Their bodies were lithe and muscular, sort of a blend of masculine and feminine.

All of them had small male genitals where they should be, but, from his vantage point, he could see a small cavity beneath them.

None of them had any body hair.

If you did it upside down and the other was right side up, he thought, you could give and receive at the same time.

“Are you all right?” one asked in a voice that sounded like a man’s voice but with a feminine lilt.

“Do you feel all right?” another asked in the identical voice.

“I—I think so,” he replied hesitantly, and sat up. “A little dizzy, that’s all.”

“That will pass,” the other said. “How’s your memory?”

“Shaky,” he replied carefully. “I’m going to need a refresher.”

“Easily done,” the other replied.

He started to ask them their names, then suddenly remembered. They didn’t use names on his planet.

His planet! His!

“I’d like to get right to work,” he told them.

“Of course,” another replied, and they led him from the sterile-looking infirmary down an equally sterile corridor. He followed them, got into an elevator, and they rode up to the top floor.

The top floor, it seemed, was an office complex. Workers were everywhere, filing things, typing things, using computer terminals.

Everybody else was slightly smaller than he was, he realized. Not much, but in a world where everyone was absolutely identical such a slight difference was as noticeable as if Cousin Bat had entered the room.

His office was huge and well-appointed. White wall-to-wall carpeting, so thick and soft his bare feet practically bounced off it. There was a huge desk, and great high-backed chair. No other furnishings, he noted, although their lack made the place look barren.

“Bring me a summary of the status of the major areas of the planet,” he ordered. “And then leave me for a while to study them.”

They bowed slightly, and left. He looked out the glass window that was the wall in back of his desk.

A complex of identical buildings stretched out before him. Broad, tree-lined streets, some small parkland, and lots of identical-looking shapes walking about on various business.

The sky was an off-blue, not the deepness of his native world, but it was attractive. There were some fleecy clouds in the sky, and, off in the distance, he saw signs of cultivated land. It looked like a rich, peaceful, and productive place, he thought. Of course, weather and topography would cause changes in the life-styles planet-wide, but he wagered those differences were minimal.

The aides returned with sheaves of folders bulging with papers. He acknowledged them curtly, and ordered them out.

There were no mirrors, but the lighting reflected him in the glass windows.

He looked just like them, only about fifty millimeters taller and proportionately slightly larger.

He felt his male genitals. They had the same feel as the ones he had had as Cousin Bat, he thought.

He reached a little lower, and found the small vaginal cavity.

He spread some papers around to make it look as if he had been studying them. He would, in time, of course, but not now.

He saw a small intercom on the desk and buzzed it, taking a seat in the big chair. At the far end of the room a clerk almost beat the track records entering, coming up to the desk and standing at full attention.

“I have found indications,” he told the clerk seriously, “that several members of the Presidium may be ill. I want a team of rural doctors—based, as far as possible, away from here—to be brought to my office as soon as possible. I want that done exactly and at once. How long before they can get here?”

“If you want them from as far away from government centers as possible, ten hours,” the clerk replied crisply.

“All right, then,” he nodded. “As soon as they arrive they are to see me—and no one else. No one is even to know that they have been sent for. I mean absolutely no one, not even the rest of the office.”

“I shall attend to it personally, Chairman,” responded the clerk, and turned to leave. So much for the spongies, he thought.

“Clerk!” he called suddenly, and the other halted and turned.

“Chairman?”

“How do I arrange to have sex?”

The clerk looked surprised and bemused. “Whenever the Chairman wishes, of course. It is a great honor for any citizen.”

“I want the best specimen here in five minutes!” he ordered.

“Yes, Chairman,” responded the clerk knowingly, and left.

His eyes sparkled, and he rubbed his hands together gleefully, thinking about what was to come.

Suddenly Nathan Brazil’s visage arose from the corners of his mind.

He said he’d give me my chance, he thought seriously. And I’ll make good on it. This world will be changed!

The door opened, and another inhabitant of Paradise entered.

“Yes?” he snapped.

“I was told to report to you by the clerk,” the newcomer said.

He smiled. The world would be changed, yes—but not right away, he thought. Not until I’ve had much more fun.

“Come on over here,” he said lightly. “You’re about to be honored.”

He groaned, and opened his eyes. An older man in overalls and checkered shirt, smelly and with a three-days’ growth of beard, was bending over him, looking anxious.

“Kally? You hear me, boy? Say somethin’!” the old man urged, shouting at him.

He groaned. “God! I feel lousy!” he managed.

The old man smiled. “Good! Good!” he enthused. “I was afeared we’d lost you, there. That was quite a crack on the nog you took!”

Kally felt the left side of his head. There was a knot under the hair, and some dried blood. It hurt—throbbed, really.

“Try to stand up,” the old man urged, and gave him a hand. He took it, and managed to stand shakily.

“How do ya feel, boy?” the old man asked.

“My head hurts,” he complained. “Otherwise—well, weak but okay.”

“Told ya ya shoulda got a good gal ta help with the farm,” the old man scolded. “If’n I hadn’ta happened along you’d be dead now.”

The man looked around, puzzled. It was a farm, he saw. Some chickens about, a ramshackle barn with a couple of cows, and an old log shack. It looked like corn growing in the fields.