Robert Sheckley - Restricted Area

'Then why do they need servants?' Morrison asked mercilessly. 'And why did they build the spire?'

That evening the new pictures of the steel pillar were completed and the scientists examined them eagerly. The top of the pillar was almost a mile high, hidden in thick clouds. There was a projection on either side of the top, jutting out at right angles to a distance of eighty-five feet.

'Looks like it might be a watchtower,' Simmons said.

'What could they watch that high up?' Morrison asked. 'All they'd see would be clouds.'

'Perhaps they like looking at clouds,' Simmons said.

'I'm going to bed,' Kilpepper stated in utter disgust.

When Kilpepper woke up the next morning, something didn't feel right. He dressed and went outside. There seemed to be something intangible in the wind. Or was it just his nerves?

Kilpepper shook his head. He had faith in his premonitions. They usually meant that, unconsciously, he had completed some process in reasoning.

Everything seemed to be in order around the ship. The animals were outside, wandering lazily around.

Kilpepper glared at them and walked around the ship. The scientists were back at work trying to solve the mysteries of the planet. Aramic was trying to learn the language from a mournful-eyed green and silver beast. The beast seemed unusually apathetic this morning. It barely muttered its songs and paid no attention to Aramic.

Kilpepper thought of Circe. Could the animals be people, changed into beasts by some wicked sorcerer? He rejected the fanciful idea and walked on.

The crew hadn't noticed anything different. They had headed, en masse, for the waterfall, to get in some swimming. Kilpepper assigned two men to make a microscopic inspection of the steel shaft.

That worried him more than anything else. It didn't seem to bother the other scientists, but Kilpepper figured that was natural. Every cobbler to his last. A linguist would be bound to attach primary importance to the language of the people, while a botanist would think the key to the planet lay in the multifruit-bearing trees.

And what did he think? Captain Kilpepper examined his ideas. What he needed, he decided, was a field theory. Something that would unify all the observed phenomena.

What theory would do that? Why weren't there any germs? Why weren't there any rocks? Why, why, why. Kilpepper felt sure that the explanation was relatively simple. He could almost see it - but not quite.

He sat down in the shade, leaning against the ship, and tried to think.

Around midday Aramic, the linguist, walked over. He threw his books, one by one, against the side of the ship.

'Temper,' Kilpepper said.

'I give up,' Aramic said. 'Those beasts won't pay any attention now. They're barely talking. And they've stopped doing tricks.'

Kilpepper got to his feet and walked over to the animals. Sure enough, they didn't seem at all lively. They crept around as though they were in the last stages of malnutrition.

Simmons was standing beside them, jotting down notes on a little pad.

'What's wrong with your little friends?' Kilpepper asked.

'I don't know,' Simmons said. 'Perhaps they were so excited they didn't sleep last night.'

The giraffe-like animal sat down suddenly. Slowly he rolled over on his side and lay still.

'That's strange,' Simmons said. 'First time I saw one of them do that.' He bent over the fallen animal and searched for a heartbeat. After a few seconds he straightened.

'No sign of life,' he said.

Two of the smaller ones with glossy black fur toppled over.

'Oh Lord,' Simmons said, hurrying over to them. 'What's happening now?'

'I'm afraid I know,' Morrison said, coming out of the ship, his face ashen. 'Germs.'

'Captain, I feel like a murderer. I think we've killed these poor beasts. You remember, I told you there was no sign of any micro-organism on this planet? Think of how many we've introduced! Bacteria streaming off our bodies on to these hosts. Hosts with no resistance, remember.'

'I thought you said the air had several disinfecting agents?' Kilpepper asked.

'Evidently they didn't work fast enough.' Morrison bent over and examined one of the little animals. 'I'm sure of it.'

The rest of the animals around the ship were falling now and lying quite still. Captain Kilpepper looked around anxiously.

One of the crewmen dashed up, panting. He was still wet from his swim by the waterfall.

'Sir,' he gasped. 'Over by the falls - the animals—'

'I know,' he said. 'Get all the men down here.'

'That's not all, sir,' the man said. 'The waterfall - you know, the waterfall—'

'Well, spit it out, man.'

'It's stopped, sir. It's stopped running.'

'Get those men down here!' The crewman sprinted back to the falls. Kilpepper looked around, not sure what he was looking for. The brown forest was quiet. Too quiet.

He almost had the answer ...

Kilpepper realized that the gentle, steady breeze that had been blowing ever since they landed had stopped.

'What in hell is going on here?' Simmons said uneasily. They started backing towards the ship.

'Is the sun getting darker?' Morrison whispered. They weren't sure. It was mid-afternoon, but the sun did seem less bright.

The crewmen hurried back from the waterfall, glistening wet. At Kilpepper's order they piled back into the ship. The scientists remained standing, looking over the silent land.

'What could we have done?' Aramic asked. He shuddered at the sight of the fallen animals.

The men who had been examining the shaft came running down the hill, bounding through the long grass as though the Devil himself were after them.

'What now?' Kilpepper asked.

'It's that damned shaft, sir!' Morena said. 'It's turning!' The shaft - that mile-high mass of incredibly strong metal - was being turned!

'What are we going, to do?' Simmons asked.

'Get back to the ship,' Kilpepper muttered. He could feel the answer taking shape now. There was just one more bit of evidence he needed. One thing more—

The animals sprang to their feet! The red and silver birds started flying again, winging high into the air. The giraffe-hippo reared to his feet, snorted and raced off. The rest of the animals followed him. From the forest an avalanche of strange beasts poured on to the meadow.

At full speed they headed west, away from the ship.

'Get back in the ship!' Kilpepper shouted suddenly. That did it. He knew now, and he only hoped he could get the ship into deep space in time.

'Hurry the hell up! Get those engines going!' he shouted to the gawking crewmen.

'But we've still got equipment scattered around,' Simmons said. 'I don't see any need for this—•' 'Man the guns!' Captain Kilpepper roared, pushing the scientists towards the bay of the ship.

Suddenly there were long shadows in the west.

'Captain. We haven't completed our investigation yet—'

'You'll be lucky if you live through this,' Kilpepper said as they entered the bay. 'Haven't you put it together yet? Close that bay! Get everything tight!'

'You mean the turning shaft?' Simmons said, stumbling over Morrison in the corridor of the ship. 'All right, I suppose there's some super race—'

'That turning shaft is a key in the side of the planet,' Kilpepper said, racing towards the bridge. 'It winds the place up. The whole world is like that. Animals, rivers, wind - everything runs down.'

He punched a quick orbit on the ship's tape.

'Strap down,' he said 'Figure it out. A place where all kinds of wonderful food hangs from the trees. Where there's no bacteria to hurt you, not even a sharp rock to stub your toes. A place filled with marvellous, amusing, gentle animals. Where everything's designed to delight you.

'A playground!'