Fredric Brown - The Second Fredric Brown Megapack

“Brofessor, I vas so vorried aboudt getting back, I did nodt notice. I forgodt to look!”

And then the final connections, which Mitkey insisted on making himself. “Nodt that I do nodt trust you, Brofessor,” he explained earnestly, “But it vas a bromise, to der Prxl scientists who taught me. Und I do nodt know how it vorks myself, und you vould nodt understand, either. It iss beyond der science of men and mice. But I bromised, so I make der connections alone.”

“I understand, Mitkey. Iss all right. But der other brojector, der vun you vill shordt—maybe somevun might find it und rebair der shordt?”

Mitkey shook his head.

“Iss hobeless. Vunce it is ruined, no vun vill ever make head or tail of how it vorked. Nodt effen you could, Brofessor.”

Near the cage—now with the door closed again—in which Minnie waited. The final wire, and a click.

And gradually, Minnie’s eyes changed.

Mitkey talking rapidly, explaining to her. Giving her the facts and the plans…

Under the floor of the main building of the Hartford laboratories, it was dark, but enough light came through a few cracks for the keen eyes of Mitkey to see that the mouse who had just challenged him was a white mouse, carrying a short club.

“Who iss?”

“Iss me,” said Mitkey. “I chust eggscaped vrom der pig cage ubstairs. Vot giffs?”

“Goot,” said the white mouse. “I vill take you to der Emperor of der Mices. To him, und to der machine he made, you owe your indelligence und your allechiance.”

“Who iss he?” asked Mitkey innocently.

“Whitey der First. Emperor of der vhite mices, who are der rulers of all der mice und layder der rulers of all der—But you vill learn all vhen you take der oath.”

“You sboke of a machine,” said Mitkey. “Vot iss, und vhere iss it?”

“In der party headquarters, vhere I now take you. This vay.”

And Mitkey followed the white mouse.

As he followed, he asked, “How many of us intelligent vhite mice iss there?”

“You vill be der twenty-virst.”

“Und all tventy iss here?”

“Yess, und ve are draining der slafe battalion of gray mice, who vill vork und fight for us. Iss now a hundred of them already. Der barracks is vhere they liff.”

“How far iss der barracks from der headquarters?”

“Ten, maybe tvellf yards.”

“Iss goot,” said Mitkey.

The last turn of the passage, and there was the machine, and there was Whitey. Other white mice were seated in a semi-circle around him, listening. “—und der negst moof iss to—Vot iss this, Guard?”

“A new recruit, Your Highness. He chust eggscaped, and he vill choin us.”

“Goot,” said Whitey. “Ve are discussing vorld blans, but ve vill vait until ve haff giffen you der oath. Stand by der machine, mit vun hand on der cylinder und vun hand raised tovard me, palm vorward.”

“Yess, Your Highness,” said Mitkey, and he moved around the semi-circle of mice toward the machine.

“Iss so.” said Whitey. “Der hand higher. Dot’s it. Now rebeat: Der vhite mice iss to rule der vorld.”

“Der vhite mice iss to rule der vorld.”

“Gray mice, und other creatures including men, vill be their slafes.”

“Gray mice, und other creatures including men, vill be their slafes.”

“ Those who obchect vill be tortured und killed.”

“Those who obchect vill be tortured und killed.”

“Und Vhitey der First shall rule ofer all.”

“Dot’s vot you think,” said Mitkey, and he reached in among the wires of the X-19 projector and touched two of them together…

The professor and Minnie were waiting. The professor seated in his chair, Minnie on the table beside the new projector Mitkey had made before he left.

“Three hours und tventy minutes,” said the professor. “Minnie, do you subbose anything could haff gone wrong?”

“I hobe nodt, Brofessor…Brofessor, iss mice habbier mit indelligence? Vould nodt indelligent mice be unhabby?”

“You are unhabby, mein Minnie?”

“Und Mitkey, too, Brofessor. I could tell. Indelligence is vorry und drouble—und in der vail und mit all der cheese you pudt under der icebox, ve vas so habby, Brofessor.”

“Maybe, Minnie. Maybe only drouble do brains bring to mice. As to men, Minnie.”

“But men, they cannot help it, Brofessor. They are born that vay. If it vas meant for mice to be smardt, they vould be born so, iss not?”

The professor sighed. “Maybe you are a smardter mouse, effen, than Mitkey. Und I am vorried, Minnie, aboudt— Look, iss him!”

Small gray mouse, most of the paint worn off of him and the rest dirtied to his own gray color, slinking along the wall.

Pop, into the mouse-hole in the baseboard.

“Minnie, iss him! He sugceeded! Now I set der cage drap, so I can pudt him on der table by der machine—Or vait, iss not necessary. It vill broject to affect Mitkey behind der vail. Chust svitch it on und—”

“Gootbye, Brofessor,” said Minnie. She reached forward to the machine, and too late the professor saw what she was going to do.

“Squeak!”

And just a small gray mouse on a table, running frantically around looking for a way down. In the center of the table, a small, complex short-circuited machine that would never work again.

“Squeak!”

The professor picked her up gently.

“Minnie, mein Minnie! Yess, you vere right. You und Mitkey vill be habbier so. But I vish you had vaited—chust a liddle. I vanted to talk to him vunce more, Minnie. But—”

The professor sighed and put the gray mouse down on the floor.

“Veil, Minnie, now to your Mitkey you can—”

But instructions were too late, and quite unnecessary, even if Minnie had understood them. The little gray mouse was now a little gray streak in the direction of the baseboard mousehole.

And then from a sheltered darkness deep within the wall the professor heard two joyful little squeaks…

Even when you’re used to it, it gets you down sometimes. Like that morning—if you can call it a morning. Really it was night. But we go by Earth time on Placet because Placet time would be as screwy as everything else on that goofy planet. I mean, you’d have a six-hour day and then a two-hour night and then a fifteen-hour day and a one-hour night and—well, you just couldn’t keep time on a planet that does a figure-eight orbit around two dissimilar suns, going like a bat out of hell around and between them, and the suns going around each other so fast and so comparatively close that Earth astronomers thought it was only one sun until the Blakeslee expedition landed here twenty years ago.

You see, the rotation of Placet isn’t any even fraction of the period of its orbit and there’s the Blakeslee Field in the middle between the suns—a field in which light rays slow down to a crawl and get left behind and—well—

If you’ve not read the Blakeslee reports on Placet, hold on to something while I tell you this:

Placet is the only known planet that can eclipse itself twice at the same time, run headlong into itself every forty hours, and then chase itself out of sight.

I don’t blame you.

I didn’t believe it either and it scared me stiff the first time I stood on Placet and saw Placet coming head-on to run into us. And yet I’d read the Blakeslee reports and knew what was really happening and why. It’s rather like those early movies when the camera was set up in front of a train and the audience saw the locomotive heading right toward them and would feel an impulse to run even though they knew the locomotive wasn’t really there.