Robert Sheckley - City of the Dead

I see that I am engaged in some extraordinary work involving symbols and dials and buttons. By manipulating the controls, I can put together all the inputs from all of the selves who are signalling to me through the many threads that connect this place to everywhere else. It forms a beautiful tapestry. Or would if I could ever get it all together. Actually, I don't quite have it down yet. Or, even more likely, I have no idea what to do with it after I get it all together. Assuming I ever do.

I decide that I'll return to this place at some other time. There's a lot of stuff here that interests me. Not necessarily you, the audience for whom I'm spinning this tale. Why should you care what happens to me? But maybe you do, since this is likely your problem too, since everybody is everybody else. But it is time to return to Achilles and Helen.

"I'll hold it back no longer," Helen said. "For the sake of the story I'll put aside the byways of statement and tell it to you forthright. The fact is, Achilles, someone is leaving Hell today."

Achilles was stunned, but not by Helen's statement. In fact, he barely registered Helen's statement, astounding though it was. Another realization had come to him, and its even more monstrous implications had flooded his mind and was presently using up all referential emotion. The fact of the matter was, Achilles suddenly saw that he was a provisional figure, and it really blew him out. Achilles had always considered himself immortal, without even thinking too much about it, and to realize now, on the basis of one tightly packed fragment of information that had come careening out of the god knows where and impacted in his mind, to realize that the collection of circumstances that brought him to life today in the mind of the computer might not come to pass again soon, or perhaps even ever, well, it was really a little much.

Provisional! It was an astounding thought, and Achilles forced himself to contemplate it without shrinking. Provisional meant that he was a manipulable concept in someone else's mind, and it meant that he wasn't even important enough to that mind to ensure securing him for another appearance at a later date. Because the indications were clear, this entity who was doing this dreaming was about to shut down, go off line, take itself out of circuit, shift its attention-energy elsewhere, attend to something else. While that was going on, Achilles would be literally nowhere until he was brought back into this mind again. And when was that likely to happen? Perhaps never. Because Achilles realized (and it was a hell of a thing to become aware of) that he was as likely as not never to be thought of again, and certainly not in this context, unless he could do something, make some sort of impression on the entity dreaming him so that the entity, after taking care of his own unimaginable concerns, would call him up again rather than some other character. Some quick research convinced Achilles that this was the first time the computer had ever conjured him up, and the whole damned construct was likely to crumble into dream-dust unless the computer did the hard work necessary to give the damn thing some zing so that he would call the city of the dead back into existence on subsequent occasions.

But how likely was that? Achilles ground his teeth in frustration. He was going to have to try to bribe the computer. What present could he make to bribe the Computer-dreamer who was the one who had synthesized all the available views of Achilles that Achilles was now cognating? How could he convince him the errant and light-minded dreamer that he, Achilles, was worth coming back for?

"I'll put it to you as directly as I can," Achilles said. "I'm trying out for Voice. I'm not asking for an exclusive. I want to be a Viewpoint. And I know you're looking for one. I'm also trying to sell mood. I'm trying to talk you into making the City of the Dead a regular stop on your mental itinerary. I know you've been looking for a place like this."

The computer didn't answer.

by Robert Sheckley

Achilles said in a soothing voice, "I know what you're scared of. That you'll make this commitment and then find out that this concept is not interesting. That it will not solve, all by itself, the problems of creativity and recombination and energy. That's it, isn't it? I hail your caution, applaud your uncertainty. That will make it all the stronger when you choose the right one, this one. Helen, why don't you say a few words?"

Helen smiled into the camera, and said, in low thrilling tones, "I think we can accommodate you very nicely. We're stage people, you see, Achilles and I, and we perform best when we're set into motion. We're not your tight-lipped modern people. If it's words you want, we have a lot of them for you. Daring words, lying words, but not boring words. Let us entertain you with the story of your life."

Achilles touched her shoulder. "Well said, Helen." And now he turns his face directly to us. We blink, unsure what to do, staring into the blinding beauty of Achilles' face. Because this Achilles is the Achilles of infinite thought over the possibility of great deeds in the world. Achilles also represents the hopelessness of falling in love with the wrong woman. Looking at him we realize, through a swift glance at the side-bar, that Briseis, the love of his life, isn't even represented in this story, her whereabouts are unknown, and Achilles has been paired with Helen for purely symbolic reasons, two troupers acing out a part. "We've done what we could," Achilles said. "Now tell me what you learned in the marketplace."

"Hades, King of Hell, has gone out of the city and across the little streams that surround Hell. He has gone to the near shore of the Styx, where there is a meadow suitable for a picnic. But he does not picnic there, Hades, though he has caused a feast to be laid for his guest, Persephone."

"Persephone? Hades walks with Persephone, the Queen?"

"Of course. Who else would he walk with? You know how besotted he is of her."

"That's because she's living," Achilles said. "People are much more attractive when they're living. But she is a lovely woman in her own regard, and of course a first-class nature myth of considerable antiquity. Being a very old myth gives a girl a certain panache, don't you think?"

"Of course I do," Helen said. "You think being Helen of Troy is jello? Nobody knows about Persephone any more. But everybody knows Helen."

"I know you're wonderful," Achilles said soothingly, because he didn't want to get her started. He wanted to hear her news, wanted to know what was going on with Hades, however, because Hades' condition was of importance to Achilles because he figured if he could put some pressure on Hades there might be a way to get out of this place. Because Achilles had by no means accustomed himself to being dead. At least not all of the time.

So if you're Achilles you attend to reality, even if reality is just being dead. But what you want is this nice interior place protected from bill collectors, jealous lovers, bailiffs, lawyers, wives and ex-wives, husbands and children in all degrees of alienation, and all the rest of the people who live out there, just outside your head, in a world of their own. They're a little much, aren't they, other people? That's why you like to come here, to the City of the Dead. That's why we're trying to convince you, or rather, demonstrate to you, that our City of the Dead is one hell of a good construct and is worthy of your most careful attention. We'll come back to this from time to time. The important thing to remember is this: we are the party of freedom.

We cut back to Hades. Me.

Persephone was saying, "When Achilles hears about this, he'll go crazy. He wants like crazy to get out of hell."