Tales Out of Time by Barbara Ireson

Author:Barbara Ireson [Ireson, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi Short Story Collection
Publisher: Philomel Books
Published: 1981-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

JOHN CHRISTOPHER

Blemish

Sunlight flooded through the open door of the forge, making friendly combat with the flames climbing up from the smith’s fire. Joe Bredon, the smith, stood by his anvil hammering the glowing metal into shape. He heard no noise of approach under the ringing clash of his own work, but the visitor, standing in the doorway, blocked out some of the light and so announced himself. Joe Bredon looked up, shading his eyes. It was a young man—perhaps twenty-four or five—fantastically dressed in city clothes. He gave the horseshoe one last titanic pat and greeted the stranger.

“Mornin’. Anything we can do for you?”

The young man smiled with a practiced ease that did not conceal his uneasiness.

“Guess it’s the other way around. I want to help you. I represent Harkaway and Cummings, by the way. Biggest names in TV. Our new model, G K 34, is just what you want for your home entertainment. Full spectron color, stereoscopic vision, five-thousand-mile range, two-foot screen…and very easy payments. And if you have an old H & C model we’ll trade it in for you at 50 percent of cost price. That’s to show you that Harkaway and Cummings stand by their customers. Can I bring a set around to you for demonstration?”

Joe Bredon said laconically: “This your first trip, son?”

The young man faltered.

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “I only finished Salesman College last month. What did I do wrong?”

Joe Bredon said: “We don’t use TV here, son. Likewise, we don’t use magnet-sweepers nor frozen foods nor autogyros.”

“Ah!” the young man said. “I see now. Some of our competitors have gypped you. Not every firm has the high ethical standards of Harkaway and Cummings. Now with our products you have a five-year guarantee of free servicing—can you ask for better than that?”

Joe Bredon said patiently: “You don’t understand me, son. We don’t want any contraptions from any firm. We just aren’t interested.”

The shocked surprise was excellently registered; the young man congratulated himself inwardly as he produced it.

“But if you don’t have TV you don’t know what you’re missing! Girls, bands, comedians, thriller serials…” He glanced speculatively at the brawny smith, “…more girls…”

Joe Bredon said: “You’re wasting your time. Where you come from, son, that may not count for much. But you’re wasting my time, too, and I have two horses to shoe and a sermon to prepare before I go to my dinner.”

“So you’re a preacher, too!” the young man said. “Why, only last Sunday the Ace Network ran a Church-in-the-Hills program, right after the Follies. And next week there’s the planet-wide hookup of the arrival of the Galactic Ambassador. There’s an inspiring scene for you. That will be something to write a sermon on.”

Joe Bredon said: “I’ll have to get Henry Tysing to paint us a new name-board. Seems clear you didn’t see the old one. You don’t know the name of this township, do you?”

“Well, no,” the young man admitted, “I missed the name. But about these TV sets…

“So I reckon I’d better tell you,” Joe Bredon said.

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