THE GOD NEXT DOOR
By BILL DOEDE
Illustrated by IVIE
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine August 1961.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The sand-thing was powerful, lonely and
strange. No doubt it was a god—but who wasn't?
Stinson lay still in the sand where he fell, gloating over the successof his arrival.
He touched the pencil-line scar behind his ear where the cylinder wasburied, marveling at the power stored there, power to fling him fromearth to this fourth planet of the Centaurian system in an instant.It had happened so fast that he could almost feel the warm, humidMissouri air, though he was light years from Missouri.
He got up. A gray, funnel-shaped cloud of dust stood off to his left.This became disturbing, since there was scarcely enough wind to movehis hair. He watched it, trying to recall what he might know aboutcyclones. But he knew little. Weather control made cyclones and otherclimatic phenomena on earth practically non-existent. The clouddid not move, though, except to spin on its axis rapidly, emittinga high-pitched, scarcely audible whine, like a high speed motor. Hejudged it harmless.
He stood on a wide valley floor between two mountain ranges. Darkclouds capped one peak of the mountains on his left. The sky was deepblue.
He tested the gravity by jumping up and down. Same as Earth gravity.The sun—no, not the sun. Not Sol. What should he call it, Alpha orCentaurus? Well, perhaps neither. He was here and Earth was somewhereup there. This was the sun of this particular solar system. He wasright the first time.
The sun burned fiercely, although he would have said it was about fouro'clock in the afternoon, if this had been Earth. Not a tree, nor abush, nor even a wisp of dry grass was in sight. Everywhere was desert.
The funnel of sand had moved closer and while he watched it, it seemedto drift in the wind—although there was no wind. Stinson backed away.It stopped. It was about ten feet tall by three feet in diameter at thebase. Then Stinson backed away again. It was changing. Now it became ablue rectangle, then a red cube, a violet sphere.
He wanted to run. He wished Benjamin were here. Ben might have anexplanation. "What am I afraid of?" he said aloud, "a few grains ofsand blowing in the wind? A wind devil?"
He turned his back and walked away. When he looked up the wind devilwas there before him. He looked back. Only one. It had moved. The sunshone obliquely, throwing Stinson's shadow upon the sand. The winddevil also had a shadow, although the sun shone through it and theshadow was faint. But it moved when the funnel moved. This was noillusion.
Again Stinson felt the urge to run, or to use the cylinder to projecthimself somewhere else, but he said, "No!" very firmly to himself. Hewas here to investigate, to determine if this planet was capable ofsupporting life.
Life? Intelligence? He examined the wind devil as closely as he dared,but it was composed only of grains of sand. There was no core, nocentral place you could point to and say, here is the brain, or thenervous system. But then, how could a group of loosely spaced grains ofsand possibly have a nervous system?
It was again going