THE 7TH ORDER
By JERRY SOHL
Illustrated by EMSH
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science FictionMarch 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that theU.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The silver needle moved with fantastic speed, slowed when it neared theair shell around Earth, then glided noiselessly through the atmosphere.It gently settled to the ground near a wood and remained silent andstill for a long time, a lifeless, cylindrical, streamlined silverobject eight feet long and three feet in diameter.
Eventually the cap end opened and a creature of bright blue metal slidfrom its interior and stood upright. The figure was that of a man,except that it was not human. He stood in the pasture next to the wood,looking around. Once the sound of a bird made him turn his shiny bluehead toward the wood. His eyes began glowing.
An identical sound came from his mouth, an unchangeable orifice in hisface below his nose. He tuned in the thoughts of the bird, but his mindencountered little except an awareness of a life of low order.
The humanoid bent to the ship, withdrew a small metal box, carried it toa catalpa tree at the edge of the wood and, after an adjustment ofseveral levers and knobs, dug a hole and buried it. He contemplated itfor a moment, then turned and walked toward a road.
He was halfway to the road when his ship burst into a dazzling whitelight. When it was over, all that was left was a white powder that wasalready beginning to be dispersed by a slight breeze.
The humanoid did not bother to look back.
Brentwood would have been just like any other average community of10,000 in northern Illinois had it not been for Presser College, whichwas one of the country's finest small institutions of learning.
Since it was a college town, it was perhaps a little more alive in manyrespects than other towns in the state. Its residents were used to theunusual because college students have a habit of being unpredictable.That was why the appearance of a metal blue man on the streets attractedthe curious eyes of passersbys, but, hardened by years of pranks,hazings and being subjected to every variety of inquiry, poll, test andpractical joke, none of them moved to investigate. Most of them thoughtit was a freshman enduring some new initiation.
The blue humanoid realized this and was amused. A policeman whoapproached him to take him to jail as a matter of routine suddenly foundhimself ill and abruptly hurried to the station. The robot allowedchildren to follow him, though all eventually grew discouraged becauseof his long strides.
Prof. Ansel Tomlin was reading a colleague's new treatise on psychologyon his front porch when he saw the humanoid come down the street andturn in at his walk. He was surprised, but he was not alarmed. When theblue man came up on the porch and sat down in another porch chair,Tomlin closed his book.
Prof. Tomlin found himself unexpectedly shocked. The blue figure wasobviously not human, yet its eyes were nearly so and they came as closeto frightening him as anything had during his thirty-five years of life,for Ansel Tomlin had never seen an actual robot before. The thought thathe was looking at one at that moment started a