Jupiter Laughs by Edmund Cooper

Author:Edmund Cooper [COOPER, EDMUND]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2011-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

The sky was shot through with hard, bright stars; but they were no match for the electric constellations of suburbia, spreading out a thousand feet below the bumble-bee in all directions. Gazing through the canopy, Emily tried in vain to pick out the Harrison residence from that bewildering multi-coloured glare.

She had already recovered somewhat from the destruction of her cherished washing machine. As a gesture of defiance, she was wearing her home-made sari once more, discreetly camouflaged by a white foam-fur coat.

Dr. Sheaffer dialled the Harrisons’ landing beam. He was pleasantly surprised when the ‘beam engaged’ signal told him that he was practically riding down it already. Allowing the black box to take over for touchdown, he turned to his wife and said: “To hell with it all, Em. We still have us.”

She found his hand in the darkness, and squeezed it gently.

Thirty seconds later, Joe and Patty, who were waiting on the roof, met them with a volley of greetings and vague sympathetic noises.

They all crowded into the funnel and dropped down to the dining-room, where Patty gazed with unfeigned admiration at Emily’s sari.

“My dear, it’s absolutely four-dimensional! Wherever did you get the pattern?”

“I sort of dreamed it up,” said Emily modestly.

Joe inspected it with scientific detachment. “It reminds me of the Nitz-Suvarov concept of sub-space,” he remarked profoundly.

“What’s that?” asked Emily.

“A series of holes tied together with theories. Have a shot of this Breaker’s Blood, Jimmy. Six jiggers equal total amnesia.”

“To the destruction of Utopia,” growled Dr. Sheaffer, downing his cocktail with a single swallow. There was a long pause. “What’s the formula, Joe?” he enquired reverently. “Rocket fuel and ether?”

“Right first time. Hot jets, brother!” Joe emptied his own glass, blinked twice and counted slowly. By the time he reached nine, the red mists had drifted away.

Patty regarded the men severely. “All right, break up the suicide session. Dinner is just about at firing point.”

Half an hour later, when they had disposed of quantities of seafood cunningly disguised as tropical fruit, followed by a dessert of vitamin-laden Angel Bubbles, Dr. Sheaffer took advantage of a lull in the conversation to bring up the subject that lay most heavily on his mind.

“Joe, what in Hades am I going to do with it all?”

“With all what, Brother Misfit?”

“All the damned leisure provided by this lousy Golden Age.”

Joe threw an odd half-smile at Patty, and stalled. “Them’s hard words, Mister. Almost treasonable, in fact.”

Dr. Sheaffer moodily helped himself to another shot of Breaker’s Blood. “Three cheers for treason,” he remarked calmly, “plus a few Hosannas for sabotage. That’s what this world needs—a spot of good, clean sabotage. Nothing violent, Joe. Just the simple liquidation of two or three thousand robot factories. Then you and I and all the other hasbeens could start work again.”

Patty suddenly stood up. She exchanged glances with Joe. Dr. Sheaffer got the impression that they had reached a silent and obscure agreement.

“Come along, Em,” she said. “Let’s leave these two rebels to their sedition. I never

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