ESCAPE MECHANISM
BY CHARLES E. FRITCH
Being a world unto one's self
is lonely. Even the poor amoeba
creature from Venus knew that....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, April 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
She found herself floating again in that strange half-familiar worldof murky fluid where only she existed. The liquid was all around her,pressing gently on all sides with a force that cushioned but did notrestrain. It was a pleasant sensation, a calming one; the cares of theoutside world were non-existent and therefore meaningless.
She drifted, unhampered by the fluid. There seemed to be no directionbut outward. Her thoughts went out and they returned with impressions.
This was her world and she was the center of it. It pleased her tothink this. It was an alien pleasure that was mental and withoutphysical counterpart.
There was quiet, stillness, a peace she had never known. The fluidflowed about her like a great silent sea that held no sound, nomovement.
It seemed natural that she should be here.
She was content.
At the accustomed time, the autohypnotics in Miss Abby Martin's bodyforced her to the threshold of consciousness and cleared her brain ofthe fog of sleep. Slowly, she opened her eyes to the morning brightnessof her bedroom and stared at the vacant skylight and the blue expanseof sky beyond it, not quite comprehending where she was. The cloudfoamcushions of her bed gave credence to the floating sensation she had hadduring her dream, and for a few seconds she lacked orientation.
Then her eyes wandered about the room, to the closed door of theraybath stall, the retracted dressing table, the chronometer label thattold her it was March 14, 2123 at thirty seconds past 0700 hours. Thesubtle intonation of her favorite music, Czerdon's "Maze of Crystal"murmured softly from the walls.
Awareness came then, and she lay back on the bed and tried to followthe intricate crystal melodies. But a frown ridged her brow, and shewondered at the strange dream instead. She had found it pleasantenough, for she rather enjoyed the languid floating sensation, thefeeling of being self-sufficient, a world unto herself. Yet the veryfact of the dream's existence in a world where such things weremanufactured disturbed her, for she had taken no dreampills the nightbefore, nor at any of the other times the dream had come. The incidentmade her almost wish that witchdoctor psychiatrics had not beenoutlawed twenty years ago, so she might get some inkling of the dream'smeaning; but psychiatrists had been pulled forcibly from the web ofsociety when mental derangements were put under the jurisdiction of theSomaticists.
Overhead, a rocket thundered, shaking the house with a gentle hand,and Abby turned her attention to the sound, momentarily forgettingthe dream. Through the one-way skylight, she saw a speck of lightaccelerate beyond vision. She shook her head impatiently.
Rush, rush, rush—that was all people seemed to think about these days.Go to the Moon, go to Mars, go to Venus. In time they might go to theouter planets and perhaps even try to reach the stars. As though theydidn't have enough trouble right here on Earth! All they did, itseemed, was hunt down poor beasts from the various planets and bringthem back to Earth to put in cages and tanks on display, ostensibly to"learn more of the planets by studying th