New is Beautiful
(© Penthouse Publications 1979. Published in Omni Magazine Dec 1979)

-----Eli Blair shuffled uneasily around the room, hands thrust deep in his pockets. The wind shrieked about the house like a hare under an eagle's shadow.

-----"Build in four dimensions?" the angel-like boy, Zodiac, had chortled earlier that day. "Easy. How do you design a cube?"
-----"I wouldn't bother," said Eli nonchalantly. "If is was a perfect cube, I would just go ahead and make it."
-----"Don't get ahead of yourself," the boy cut in. "I said 'design' for a reason. A cube is three dimensions, which you can represent on a two-dimensional surface..."
-----"You mean three dimensions on two, and four on three?" The old man scratched his head. No, it can't be a simple as that..."
-----The boy looked at him unblinkingly. "You're not going to tell me it's impossible, are you? Or that somebody must have thought of it already?" He shook his head, the golden hair catching the dying autumn sun. "They all say that until someone else patents the invention of a lifetime."
-----Eli looked sharply at the boy, then picked up a sheet of paper, tearing and folding it to form a rough cube. Twisting it this way and that, he smiled ruefully. "Paper's no good."
-----"Correct."
-----The old man strode to the bookshelf and returned with a glass paperweight. He tipped it from hand to hand, and shook his head. It told him nothing.
-----"Getting warmer, Eli," said the boy, encouragingly.
-----Eli glared, but inside he was warm with admiration. "Why don't you tell me, you young imp!"
-----"That wouldn't be so much fun. Zodiac's eyes sparkled. "I'll give you a clue," he relented, closing his eyes and quoting:

Far from the edge of the land
There lies a-shifting a place
In the deep's hand...

-----His guardian raised an eyebrow. "When did you start learning Zarradine?"
-----"Ages ago. Last week, I think."
-----"I'm surprised. But I suppose I shouldn't be." Elis shrugged. Anyway, that's an easy clue." He turned to the window, to a tank of water, wherein there lay motionless a small grey fish. A black dot of an eye swivelled at his approach, and when the old man's hands touched the glass the fish sprang suddenly and ferociously into life, its small, needle fangs tapping sharply against the glass. Eli carried the tank to the sink and, in one swift movement, whipped off the cover, emptied out the contents, and covered the sink with a glass sheet. He held the tank over the dryer for a moment, and when he turned back to the boy, there were a few beads of sweat on his forehead. "I swear he'll have me one day," he grinned, "but I haven't the heart to have his glands removed. Now," he said matter-of-factly, "the third cube. What do I do with it?"
-----"A diagram," said Zodiac simply, "a four-dimensional representation on a three-dimensional surface."
-----Eli sighed quietly. He shouldn't allow himself to be drawn in like this. He could teach the boy how to behave, but academically... "No more games," he said firmly, selecting a clay pencil from the desk drawer. "Show me."
-----Zodiac folded his arms, refusing the pencil. "You can't draw on the glass. It's a surface, and a surface has only two dimensions. It's what's inside, the volume, that is three-dimensional." He padded lightly to the cupboard and returned with thread and cutter.
-----For the next few minutes, the room was silent, save for the quiet hum of the cutter and the occasional plop! from the sink. At last, Zodiac stood back, a satisfied smile on his face.
-----Eli studied the result, more struck with its artistic merits than any mathematical significance. "It's clever, but where's the fourth dimension?"
-----"It's not in there," said the boy. "That wasn't the object of the exercise. This is just a design, a blueprint."
-----Eli shook his head, sitting down heavily. "Well I'm blowed! And this is what you've been doing at school today?"
-----Zodiac looked away. "Well, no, not as an assignment, not exactly."
-----"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" The old man touched his ward on the shoulders. "You haven't been skipping school, have you?"
-----"No!" exclaimed the boy indignantly. "When I said 'not exactly', I meant the others were doing the industrial counterrevolution."
-----"I see. Now listen to me," said Eli, wagging a gnarled finger. "I pay good pension and guardianship money to send you to a free school, and you..."
-----"Hold on a minute, Eli," said Zodiac, his voice belying his childish looks. "You said you were sending me to the free school so I could be an individual like you, and so I am. You can't deny that." He shrugged. "I can learn the industrial counterrevolution any time - I took a video of the lesson - but this dimension problem is on my mind, and it's now work. History is later work. Don't worry, Eli, I won't letm you down come end-of-term exams. You know I won't."
-----"Okay, okay." Eli held up his hands. "I don't need a lecture. I know it's not up to me what you study, but it's just that I want you to stick to what you start. Then you won't end up like I did, a drifter for the first few years of my maturity. I had a terrible job sorting myself out."
-----"But you did in the end. If I achieve as much as you did, Eli, I'll be satisfied."
-----Eli winced melodramatically. "If you don't achieve at least five times as much as I did, I'll take a stick to you." They both laughed, not because they knew he would never do such a thing, but because it was an affirmation of confidence, and it made them both happy.

-----They left the glass-and-thread blueprint on the desk and sat down at the small table. "I've a surprise for you," said Eli, opening a drawer in front of him and taking out a small package. He shoved it across together with the boy's two sachets.
-----"What is it?" asked Zodiac, tearing the paper to expose a pinkish, pasty material inside.
-----"Pâté."
-----"Pâté!" Carefully, the boy dipped a finger into it and raised it into his mouth. His eyes widened. "Real pâté?" Most of it disappeared down his throat in a second.
-----"Steady!" warned his guardian. "You shouldn't have eaten all that. You know too much fresh food'll give you a bad stomach."
-----"I couldn't help it. It was delicious."
-----"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I don't suppose it'll hurt you - can't have been more than 10 grams."
-----Zodiac licked his fingers for the third time. "Can I give the rest to Willy?"
-----"Yes, but be careful. He prefers fingers."
-----The boy slid the glass cover on the sink aside a fraction and dropped in the last lump of pâté. It didn't touch the water. The fish gulped once and returned to the bottom. Zodiac shuddered involuntarily, replaced the cover, and returned to the table. "Why do you still keep him if he's so dangerous? It's a rather one-sided relationship, isn't it?"
-----Eli leaned back in his chair. "Did I never tell you?"
-----The boy sat down opposite him and leaned forward eagerly.
-----The old man closed his eyes. "When I was young, when there were still ships on the sea, I worked on a freighter carrying everything from fabrics to ore from England to North America. On the ship as well was a young, rough-edged Australasian, called Aubrey Jones, and he and I became the greatest of buddies. We had a great time, the two of us, raising hell in ports with brawling and drinking, and suchlike. We were four days out of Liverpool when the war came, and we sat there in mid-ocean, waiting, wondering. A week passed, nothing on the radio, food supplies dwindling. You know your history. After sixteen days and nights of torment, half the crew dead of fear, hunger or suicide, we heard it was over, so we sailed on to Boston. We survivors got blind drunk that night, and I had quite a job getting us back to the ship. Anyway, I did, and we loaded up and headed for home.
-----"Well, you could feel the tension on the ship all the way. Aubrey and I tossed all the drink we could find over the side. There was no skipper, just a wierd, democratic, vagabond crew, and how we ever made Liverpoll I still don't know to this day. But we did. And the first thing we did was to collect our pay and look for the nearest bar. Well, as you know, we shouldn't have found one, because it was the New Way, but we did, a little illegal tavern on a back street.
-----"It was the last night of the century. We hadn't realised it until we'd already downed a few, and of course we were determined to celebrate, if no one else did. But it misfired, disastrously. Aubrey managed to get into a fight and killed a man. It cured me, because I left the ships and got a decent job. And it cured Aubrey, too, because they sent him to the moon.
-----Forty years he got, and forty years he served. He used to write to me regularly, and a week after his release I heard he'd been sent back to Australasia, to work for the Fisheries Protection Board. After that, he didn't write to me so often. Inevitable, I suppose, but we never lost contact altogether. We always said we'd meet again, but somehow we were always too busy. Then in '51, I got a letter from his employers. He'd been badly mauled by a shark while trying to save a girl from drowning. There was a little note from him enclosed and I remember it word for word. It said:
-----Dear Trusted Friend Eli,
-----I took on a shark the other day, but my reflexes aren't what they were when we were young. Only fight I've ever lost, but it's the last. Never mind, I've had a good run, and they tell me the little girl's going to be all right, thank God. I want you to have all my bits to do what you like with. Please look after Willy for me. He's a mean bugger but good company. I'd swear he understands more than he lets on. Can't write any more, old friend. Take care. So long, Aubrey."
-----Eli sighed deeply. "So, wondering who or what on Earth Willy was, I took a weekend return to Melbourne and collected Aubrey's stuff - and Willy. His landlady told me rather sharply: 'Glad to see the back of the brute.' Then she melted and there were tears in her eyes. 'He was a helluva man, Mr Blair,' she said, 'an' a damn shame he's gone.' She gave me the written instructions Aubrey had given her for when he was at sea. They were very simple and typical of the sense of humour that never left him, not even while he was in prison. They said: Willy eats anything, 'specially fresh meat. Particularly partial to humans. One bite is fatal - to the human.
"I seriously considered tipping Willy into the nearest furnace but kept thinking of Aubrey, so I relented and brought the beast home. He never took his eyes from me all the way. Customs was a bit funny, but I called a friend in London and he got me a licence. It was only then that I discovered Willy's true identity. He was extremely rare and worth a small fortune. Aubrey must have known that and it was his way of thanking me for sticking by him all those years. I should have sold him there and then, but once I'd turned down the first offer, the next was easier. And the brute looked at me all the time, at first sort of suspicious, but then I swear it was a secure look, knowing, somehow. I'll never know how I came to grow fond of such a creature, but I did."
-----Eli opened his eyes. "Eat your food," he ordered quietly. Then he closed them again. "Anyway, I've had Willy for ten years now, and I reckon he'll outlive me. He's used to my ways, and me his. I know what he likes - sunshine, duck, hard-boiled eggs. I wouldn't part with him now. I've got an antidote for his poison, but I don't think I'll ever need it. I've always been ultra-careful, and so have my wards."
-----Zodiac split a sachet between finger and thumb and poured the contents down his throat. "Sometimes I wish," he said slowly, "I was an Old Individual. I'd like to have been a guardian, like you. Will you have another ward when I'm dead?"
-----Eli frowned. "Don't talk like that. First of all, the New Individuals are the future, and second, I don't like you talking about your own death. You're only eight months old now, with another 20 to go, and it's not as if your life seems any shorter than mine..."
-----"I'm sorry," interrupted the boy. "I know what you say is true. I'm not thinking of the comparative lengths of our lives, just our lifestyle. I'm enjoying my life, of course I am. The New Way is better than the Old, but in this changeover period I think the guardians have a more satisfying task than the wards."
-----Eli nodded slowly. "That may be so, but the New Way is better, and that's all that matters to any of us. There'll come a time when I'm just a housekeeper to you - I know, I've seen it four times already - a time when you're so far ahead that I'll be the child and you the adult. Give it a few more months and you'll be happy with your side of the bargain."
-----"Nonsense!" said Zodiac sharply, tossing his golden hair. "You'll always be able to teach me something. You have the morals, the knowledge, and the honesty. I only hope we'll be able to retain it when all the guardians are gone."
-----"You will, boy, you will. Don't you worry. It's more than ever a technological world, but it's good technology. Benevolent technology. The New Way will inherit the best of the Old - the wisdom, the intellect, the industriousness. Humanity will progress and prosper for ever, now that aggression and greed have almost gone. If ironing out the horror's in man's nature means a shorter lifespan, though a no less full one, so be it. The New Way is good." Eli's eyes bored into the boy's. "It's more than good. It's beautiful, it's perfect." He glanced up at the clock. "And now..."
-----"I know," sighed his ward, for a moment the child again. He dutifully rose and cleared away the table. "Can I watch you catch Willy?"
-----"No, I'm going to leave him there for tonight. I don't want to spoil our blueprint - perhaps we can talk about it again tomorrow." He held out his hands, and Zodiac took them. "Goodnight, young man. Sleep well."
-----When the boy had gone to his room, Eli settled into a comfortable chair from where he could see the moon through the trees on the hill above the house. Clouds were gathering, and a light breeze tugged at the shutters. There would be a storm any minute, Eli knew, for he had not lived in the Cotswolds for ten years without knowing the weather patterns like an old friend.
-----He felt tired. Every day was a long day with Zodiac. The boy only needed three hours' sleep now, and in a couple of months he would need none. Before Eli was barely asleep in his own bed, the boy would be up and gone, tiptoeing out to 18 hours of schooling. He was growing up fast, even for a ward, and it was hard to believe it was only seven months ago that Joseph Parsons, Secretary of the Fellowship of Guardians, had brought him a one-month-old, golden-haired child who could hardly walk. Zodiac had cried because of Eli's whiskers, and Eli shaved them off there and then as a token of friendship. Two weeks later the boy was beating him at simple card games. Eli shrugged inwardly. Even after five baby wards, he still found it difficult to come to terms with the incredible development rate and speeding metabolism of the new race. But he envied no man. Most Oldones, now in reteirement, living out their lives in luxury in the cities, were almost oblivious to the New Way teking over. Eli Blair had believed in it right from the start, right from the very first New child, and blessed the day when the aggressors had obliterated themselves from the face of the earth and left the rest of the world to scramble every way of life until they came up with the answer that was the New Way. Humanity had dragged itself back from the brink of oblivion and would never again pit itself against itself, or against Nature. And as soon as he was retired, Eli Blair devoted his every waking hour to make it work. It had to work, because now there were no destroyers, only builders. And the New children were the children of the builders.
-----There was no particular point during his reverie that Eli Blair's thoughts became dreams. He had long been accustomed to taking a half-hour nap before setting out the boy's meagre (to him) breakfast and locking up the house, and he slipped easily into the light sleep of advancing years, his feet stretched out, his hands loose in his lap.
-----But when he awoke he knew it was not his mental alarm clock which had woken him. He looked out of the window - the moon had scarecely moved, so he had been asleep only a few minutes. What had disturbed him, then? Everything was still, save the rising wind, and he was on the verge of drifting off when the disturbance reached him again. This time he knew too well what it was, and he lurched drunkenly out of the chair as the third agonised yell from the back of the house penetrated his brain. Eli flung open the door to see the boy writhing on the bed, clutching at his middle. His staring eyes saw nothing, and the golden hair was dark with sweat.
-----The old man threw a blanket over him and fiercely punched out some numbers on the bedside comm.
-----Immediately, a tinny voice: "Emergency."
-----"Blair, two-five-nine-zero-G. Ambulance, my ward..."
-----"Nature of emergency?" asked the unemotional electronic voice.
-----"I think it's food poisoning."
-----"Patient's identification?"
-----"Oh, for..." Eli wiped the sweat from his eyes. No use arguing. "Zodiac, seven-two-eight-W."
-----"Wait, please."
-----The next four seconds seem like four hours. Then the voice again: "Landing space - go. Availability - go. ETA two minutes. Blair, do not give anything to patient. Keep patient warm. Keep calm. Confirm."
-----"Confirmed." Eli cursed the machine as he dragged another blanket over the boy. Keep calm, it said! He cursed the pâté. He cursed the peddler who had persuaded him to buy it. He cursed himself for his stupidity, and he soothed the boy's brow with water from the tap by the bed.
-----The ambulance's siren blared from above the roof, and Eli rushed to the back door in time tosee it settle gently in the yard, the whine of the engines just audible above the wind. Two figures jumped out, both barely bigger than Zodiac, but broader shouldered. They rushed where Eli directed them, swept the boy up in a stretcher, and were outside again before ten seconds were past. One of them, a girl, gasped, "Don't worry. Wait for our call," and the machine was gone, up and away like a monstrous flying egg, over the trees, to the nearest hospital specialising in the medicine of the New Way.
-----Eli closed the door quietly and sat down in front of his desk comm. Now he had the time for the self-recrimination that had been building up since he had burst into Zodiac's room just a few minutes before. For the next five minutes he set to the mental task of taking himself to pieces, understandably but unnecessarily, and it was only the shrill tone of the comm which prevented him from driving himself insane.
-----He stabbed open the channel. "Yes!"
-----A calm, young voice came through, then the screen cleared. Eli saw the face of a boy, not unlike Zodiac, but older, perhaps a year old. "Mr Blair, I'm Dr Rosko. Zodiac is comfortable now, but I must tell you his condition is very grave. Food poisoning is confirmed. He ate some pâté..."
-----Eli nodded slowly. "I know. It was my fault. I shouldn't have bought it."
-----"Please, Mr Blair, there is absolutely no blame attached to you. Zodiac is our seventh case today, and the peddler concerned has now been arrested. The pâté was accredited fit for consumption by wards, but it seems the date had been falsified."
-----"Oh, no!" Eli almost reeled back from the words. The old ways lingered on. You never knew when you might come across them, in a crowded street, in a back alley - there were still fragments of the old self-interest at large. Still people, ghastly nightmares of the past, who could, would, put personal gain before the well-being of the race. Eli Blair remembered the Old ways, had been a part of them, but those 16 days of cold, unimaginable fear adrift in the North Atlantic had cured him for life. It seemed there were still those whom it had not. Eli ached from the pain of it. "And Zodiac?" he said, hearing himself almost pleading.
-----"Don't upset yourself, Mr Blair. You must be distressed, I know, but your ward will receive the best possible care. We are doing everything we can."
-----"I know. Thank you, Dr Rosko. You will let me know how he's doing?" Without thinking, he added, desperately. "Is there any chance of me seeing him, any chance at all?" But he already knew the answer - knew he could never enter a ward establishment of any kind, where things moved 30 times faster than he knew, where the environment was as alien to him as the South Pole - more so. For it was only in the presence of the old ones, like himself, that the wards slowed themselves down. Amongst themselves they lived 30 times as quickly and got 30 times as much done in the same time...
-----"I'm sorry, Mr Blair, you know it's not possible. You understand..."
-----Eli took hold of himself. "Of course, Doctor. I shouldn't have asked."
-----"You are distraught. I suggest you take a sedative and go to bed. I will see to it you are called if there's any change."
-----If there's any change. The words rang in Eli's head when the Doctor had signed off. He switched off the comm and stood up, looking round the room as if it were unfamilar to him. He could no more go to bed than fly.

-----The night seemed interminable. To occupy himself, Eli closed the shutters and locked up the house, swept out the bedrooms, tidied his desk. And now he was reduced to shuffling back and forth across the cluttered room, listening to the shrieking wind mingling with his waking nightmare. Thoughts of the past clashed with dread of the future. He tried to shut out the picture of the smiling, golden-haired boy who eagerly wolfed down the pâté, but it kept coming back. Guardianship might seem the best job on earth, he thought bitterly, but here was the other side of the coin. He had never been married, but now for the first time he knew what it must have been like for the thousands of women who lost babies at the height of the industrial counterrevolution, when medical services ground to a halt for a whole year. How trivial it had all seemed to him then. How he now regretted the callousness of his youth. All these memories crashed so violently about his head he hardly heard the comm shrilling.
-----Eli opened the channel carefully, half expecting...? But it was Dr Rosko.
-----"Mr Blair," he said quietly, and Eli knew. He knew from the face. The New ones could not hide their emotions. They matured in mind, but always retained the childish features. He knew.
-----"Mr Blair, I'm sorry. Zodiac couldn't make it. He died a few minutes ago. We did what we could."
-----"Eli nodded. "I know that."
-----"Will you be all right?"
-----"I'll be all right, Doctor. I'll ring you tomorrow about the arrangements."
-----When the doctor's grave face had gone from the screen, Eli Blair felt as if he was about to be torn apart. His rational natire said the New Way was still the same. Things happen. His emotions were in turmoil. He staggered up out of his seat again, drained of energy, and wandered aimlessly about the room for a few minutes. Can I go through it again? The question demanded an immediate answer. A two-year guardianship was short and painful enough, despite the calculated way it was cooled down toward the end of a ward's life. The New Way was perfect - he had said that earlier, but was it perfect for him? However the war had changed him, he would be a part of the Old way until the day he died. Was it time to go now? Had enough of human nature been instilled into the frames of the New children yet? Could they br trusted to breed on their own now and not revert to the Old ways? The New children did not cry. They did not get angry. Yet they loved with unbelievable strength of will. Would this be enough to carry them through to the promised future? Eli Blair did not know. The New Way seemed to crowd in on him, and he felt his age acutely. His role was ever-diminishing. The ambulance drivers, the doctor, the emergency robot, all New. Every day, less Old, more and more New. Eli knew one thing. He didn't want to be the last. He didn't want to live out the residue of his days like a dinosaur, a living relic of the past that was hateful and wasteful and best forgotten.

-----Half-blinded by the pain in his head, Eli stumbled against the sink. There was no hesitation in the hand that slid the glass aside and fell slowly into the cool water. He steeled himself, closing his eyes. A second passed. "Go on, you brute," he muttered, "you've been waiting for this chance for years. More seconds passed, but no pain came. He opened his eyes and looked down. Willy was listing slightly and had turned toward the hand that intruded. The small black eyes regarded Eli angrily, but he did not move. Every few seconds, his stout grey body twitched, and Eli suddenly came to his senses. The pâté! Willy, too, had eaten the pâté. And he was in agony, dying. Eli yanked a yard of travelling cable from its wall housing and turned on the power. A quick jab at the surface of the water was enough. Willy would suffer no more. Eli Blair, now totally alone, went and sat at his desk.
-----The brief episode with the fish affected him deeply. Somehow it brought back the world he had almost discarded in his grief. He might laugh about the miracle later. But now there was something to do. Dying was too easy - killing Willy had made him realise it. Dying was not the New Way.

-----A few taps on the keyboard brought a face on the screen. An Old face. Joseph Parsons had not changed in seven months. "Hello, Eli," he said. "I've been waiting for you to call. The registrar at the hospital called me a while ago. You know how sorry I am."
-----Eli was lost forwords for a moment. Then he said: "Thank you, Joseph. Look, I know this will sound harsh, but..."
-----"Eli, don't torture yourself. Go to bed, and I'll be round with the papers in the morning."
-----Eli Blair couldn't stop the wry smile. "You knew I'd call, didn't you?"
-----Joseph nodded wisely. "Of course I did. Once you've been a guardian, you can't shake it off. You've been a guardian five times. You ought to know by now..."
-----"Yes," sighed Eli, "I suppose I ought."

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