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Title: The Vilbar Party
Author: Evelyn E. Smith
Illustrator: KOSSIN
Release Date: March 15, 2010 [EBook #31626]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VILBAR PARTY ***
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
The Vilbar Party
By EVELYN E. SMITH
Illustrated by KOSSIN
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction
January 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the
U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: _"Nuts to you!" was what Narli knew Earthmen would tell
him ... only it was frismil nuts!_]
"The Perzils are giving a vilbar party tomorrow night," Professor Slood
said cajolingly. "You _will_ come this time, won't you, Narli?"
Narli Gzann rubbed his forehead fretfully. "You know how I feel about
parties, Karn." He took a frismil nut out of the tray on his desk and
nibbled it in annoyance.
"But this is in your honor, Narli--a farewell party. You must go. It
would be--it would be unthinkable if you didn't." Karn Slood's eyes were
pleading. He could not possibly be held responsible for his friend's
anti-social behavior and yet, Narli knew, he would somehow feel at
fault.
Narli sighed. He supposed he would have to conform to public sentiment
in this particular instance, but he was damned if he would give in
gracefully. "After all, what's so special about the occasion? I'm just
leaving to take another teaching job, that's all." He took another nut.
"That's _all_!" Slood's face swelled with emotion. "You can't really be
that indifferent."
"Another job, that's all it is to me," Narli persisted. "At an
exceptionally high salary, of course, or I wouldn't dream of accepting a
position so inconveniently located."
Slood was baffled and hurt and outraged. "You have been honored by being
the first of our people to be offered an exchange professorship on
another planet," he said stiffly, "and you call it 'just another job.'
Why, I would have given my right antenna to get it!"
Narli realized that he had again overstepped the invisible boundary
between candor and tactlessness. He poked at the nuts with a stylus.
"Honored by being the first of our species to be offered a
guinea-pigship," he murmured.
He had not considered this aspect of the matter before, but now that it
occurred to him, he was probably right.
"Oh, I don't mind, really." He waved away the other's sudden
commiseration. "You know I like being alone most of the time, so I won't
find that uncomfortable. Students are students, whether they're
Terrestrials or Saturnians. I suppose they'll laugh at me behind my
back, but then even here, my students always did that."
He gave a hollow laugh and unobtrusively put out one of his hands for a
nut. "At least on Earth I'll know why they're laughing."
There was pain on Slood's expressive face as he firmly removed the nut
tray from his friend's reach. "I didn't think of it from that angle,
Narli. Of course you're right. Human beings, from what I've read of
them, are not noted for tolerance. It will be difficult, but I'm sure
you'll be able to--" he choked on the kindly lie--"win them over."
Narli repressed a bitter laugh. Anyone less likely than he to win over a
hostile alien species through sheer personal charm could hardly be found
on Saturn. Narli Gzann had been chosen as first exchange professor
between Saturn and Earth because of his academic reputation, not his
personality. But although the choosers had probably not had that aspect
of the matter in mind, the choice, he thought, was a wise one.
As an individual of solitary habits, he was not apt to be much lonelier
on one planet than another.
And he had accepted the post largely because he felt that, as an alien
being, he would be left strictly alone. This would give him the chance
to put in a lot of work on his definitive history of the Solar System, a
monumental project from which he begrudged all the time he had to spend
in fulfilling even the minimum obligations expected of a professor on
sociable Saturn.
The salary was a weighty factor, too--not only was it more than twice
what he had been getting, but since there would be no necessity for
spending more than enough for bare subsistence he would be able to save
up a considerable amount and retire while still comparatively young. It
was pleasant to imagine a scholarly life unafflicted by students.
He could put up with a good deal for that goal.
But how could he alleviate the distress he saw on Karn's face? He did
not consciously want to hurt the only person who, for some strange
reason, seemed to be fond of him, so he said the only thing he could
think of to please: "All right, Karn, I'll go to the Perzils tomorrow
night."
It would be a deadly bore--parties always were--and he would eat too
much, but, after all, the thought that it would be a long time before
he'd ever see any of his own kind again would make the affair almost
endurable. And just this once it would be all right for him to eat as
much as he wanted. When he was on Earth out of reach of decent food, he
would probably trim down considerably.
* * * * *
"I just _know_ you're going to love Earth, Professor Gzann," the hostess
on the interplanetary liner gushed.
"I'm sure I shall," he lied politely. She smiled at him too much,
over-doing her professional cordiality; underneath the effusiveness, he
sensed the repulsion. Of course he couldn't blame her for trying not to
show her distaste for the strange creature--the effort at concealment
was, as a matter of fact, more than he had expected from a Terrestrial.
But he wished she would leave him alone to meditate. He had planned to
get a lot of meditation done on the journey.
"You speak awfully good English," she told him.
He looked at her. "I am said to have some scholarly aptitude. I
understand that's why I was chosen as an exchange professor. It does
seem reasonable, doesn't it?"
She turned pink--a sign of embarrassment with these creatures, he had
learned. "I didn't mean to--to question your ability, Professor. It's
just that--well, you don't look like a professor."
"Indeed?" he said frostily. "And what do I look like, then?"
She turned even rosier. "Oh--I--I don't know exactly. It's just
that--well...." And she fled.
He couldn't resist flicking his antennae forward to catch her _sotto
voce_ conversation with the co-pilot; it was so seldom you got the
chance to learn what others were saying about you behind your back. "But
I could hardly tell him he looks like a teddy bear, could I?"
"He probably doesn't even know what a teddy bear is."
"Perhaps I don't," Narli thought resentfully, "but I can guess."
With low cunning, the Terrestrials seemed to have ferreted out the
identity of all his favorite dishes and kept serving them to him
incessantly. By the time the ship made planetfall on Earth, he had
gained ten grisbuts.
"Oh, well," he thought, "I suppose it's all just part of the regular
diplomatic service. On Earth, I'll have to eat crude native foods, so
I'll lose all the weight again."
President Purrington of North America came himself to meet Narli at the
airfield because Narli was the first interplanetary exchange professor
in history.
"Welcome to our planet, Professor Gzann," he said with warm diplomatic
cordiality, wringing Narli's upper right hand after a moment of
indecision. "We shall do everything in our power to make your stay here
a happy and memorable one."
"I wish you would begin by doing something about the climate," Narli
thought. It was stupid of him not to have realized how hot it would be
on Earth. He was really going to suffer in this torrid climate;
especially in the tight Terrestrial costume he wore over his fur for the
sake of conformity. Of course, justice compelled him to admit to
himself, the clothes wouldn't have become so snug if he hadn't eaten
quite so much on board ship.
Purrington indicated the female beside him. "May I introduce my wife?"
"Ohhh," the female gasped, "isn't he _cute_!"
The President and Narli stared at her in consternation. She looked
abashed for a moment, then smiled widely at Narli and the press
photographers.
"Welcome to Earth, dear Professor Gzann!" she exclaimed, mispronouncing
his name, of course. Bending down, she kissed him right upon his fuzzy
forehead.
Kissing was not a Saturnian practice, nor did Narli approve of it;
however, he had read enough about Earth to know that Europeans sometimes
greeted dignitaries in this peculiar way. Only this place, he had been
given to understand, was not Europe but America.
[Illustration]
"I am having a cocktail party in your honor this afternoon!" she beamed,
smoothing her flowered print dress down over her girdle. "You'll be
there at five sharp, won't you, dear?"
"Delighted," he promised dismally. He could hardly plead a previous
engagement a moment after arriving.
"I've tried to get all the things you like to eat," she went on
anxiously, "but you will tell me if there's anything special, won't
you?"
"I am on a diet," he said. He must be strong. Probably the food would be
repulsive anyhow, so he'd have no difficulty controlling his appetite.
"Digestive disorders, you know. A glass of Vichy and a biscuit will
be...."
He stopped, for there were tears in Mrs. Purrington's eyes. "Your tummy
hurts? Oh, you poor little darling!"
"Gladys!" the President said sharply.
There were frismil nuts at Mrs. Purrington's cocktail party and vilbar
and even slipnis broogs ... all imported at fabulous expense, Narli
knew, but then this was a government affair and expense means nothing to
a government since, as far as it is concerned, money grows on taxpayers.
Some of the native foods proved surprisingly palatable, too--pâté de
foie gras and champagne and little puff pastries full of delightful
surprises. Narli was afraid he was making a zloogle of himself. However,
he thought, trying not to catch sight of his own portly person in the
mirrors that walled the room, the lean days were just ahead.
Besides, what could he do when everyone insisted on pressing food on
him? "Try this, Professor Gzann." "Do try that, Professor Gzann."
("Doesn't he look cunning in his little dress suit?") They crowded
around him. The women cooed, the men beamed, and Narli ate. He would be
glad when he could detach himself from all this cloying diplomacy and
get back to the healthy rancor of the classroom.
* * * * *
At school, the odor of chalk dust, ink and rotting apple cores was
enough like its Saturnian equivalent to make Narli feel at home
immediately. The students would dislike him on sight, he knew. It is in
the nature of the young to be hostile toward whatever is strange and
alien. They would despise him and jeer at him, and he, in his turn,
would give them long, involved homework assignments and such difficult
examinations that they would fail....
Narli waddled briskly up to his desk which had, he saw, been scaled down
to Saturnian size, whereas he had envisioned himself struggling
triumphantly with ordinary Earth-sized, furniture. But the atmosphere
was as hot and sticky and intolerable as he had expected. Panting as
unobtrusively as possible, he rapped with his pointer. "Attention,
students!"
Now should come the derisive babble ... but there was a respectful
silence, broken suddenly by a shrill feminine whisper of, "Oooo, he's so
adorable!" followed by the harsh, "Shhh, Ava! You'll embarrass the poor
little thing."
Narli's face swelled. "I am your new professor of Saturnian Studies.
Saturn, as you probably know, is a major planet. It is much larger and
more important than Earth, which is only a minor planet."
The students obediently took this down in their notebooks. They
carefully took down everything he said. Even a bout of coughing that
afflicted him half-way through seemed to be getting a phonetic
transcription. From time to time, they would interrupt his lecture with
questions so pertinent, so well-thought out and so courteous that all he
could do was answer them.
His antennae lifted to catch the whispers that from time to time were
exchanged between even the best-behaved of the students. "Isn't he
precious?" "Seems like a nice fellow--sound grasp of his subject."
"Sweet little thing!" "Unusually interesting presentation." "Doesn't he
remind you of Winnie the Pooh?" "Able chap." "Just darling!"
After class, instead of rushing out of the room, they hovered around his
desk with intelligent, solicitous questions. Did he like Earth? Was his
desk too high? Too low? Didn't he find it hot with all that fur? Such
lovely, soft, fluffy fur, though. "Do you mind if I stroke one of your
paws--_hands_--Professor?" ("So cuddly-looking!")
He said yes, as a matter of fact, he was hot, and no, he didn't mind
being touched in a spirit of scientific investigation.
He had a moment of uplift at the teachers' cafeteria when he discovered
lunch to be virtually inedible. The manager, however, had been
distressed to see him pick at his food, and by dinner-time a
distinguished chef with an expert knowledge of Saturnian cuisine had
been rushed from Washington. Since the school food was inedible for all
intelligent life-forms, everyone ate the Saturnian dishes and praised
Narli as a public benefactor.
* * * * *
That night, alone in the quiet confines of his small room at the Men's
Faculty Club, Narli had spread out his notes and was about to start work
on his history when there was a knock at the door. He trotted over to
open it, grumbling to himself.
The head of his department smiled brightly down at him. "Some of us are
going out for a couple of drinks and a gabfest. Care to come along?"
Narli did not see how he could refuse and still carry the Saturnian's
burden, so he accepted. Discovering that gin fizzes and Alexanders were
even more palatable than champagne and more potent than vilbar, he told
several Saturnine locker-room stories which were hailed with loud
merriment. But he was being laughed _at_, not _with_, he knew. All this
false cordiality, he assured himself, would die down after a couple of
days, and then he would be able to get back to work. He must curb his
intellectual impatience.
In the morning, he found that enrollment in his classes had doubled, and
the room was crowded to capacity with the bright, shining, eager faces
of young Terrestrials athirst for learning. There were apples,
chocolates and imported frismil nuts on his desk, as well as a pressing
invitation from Mrs. Purrington for him to spend all his weekends and
holidays at the White House. The window was fitted with an
air-conditioning unit which, he later discovered, his classes had
chipped in to buy for him, and the temperature had been lowered to a
point where it was almost comfortable. All the students wore coats.
When he went out on the campus, women--students, teachers, even
strangers--stopped to talk to him, to exclaim over him, to touch him,
even to kiss him. Photographers were perpetually taking pictures, some
of which turned up in the Student Union as full-color postcards. They
sold like Lajl out of season.
Narli wrote in Saturnian on the back of one: "Having miserable time; be
glad you're not here," and sent it to Slood.
There were cocktail parties, musicales and balls in Narli's honor. When
he tried to refuse an invitation, he was accused of shyness and
virtually dragged to the affair by laughing members of the faculty. He
put on so much weight that he had to buy a complete new Terrestrial
outfit, which set him back a pretty penny. As a result, he had to
augment his income by lecturing to women's clubs. They slobbered
appallingly.
* * * * *
Narli's students did all their homework assiduously and, in fact, put in
more work than had been assigned. At the end of the year, not only did
all of them pass, but with flying colors.
"I hope you'll remember, Professor Gzann," the President of the
University said, "that there will always be a job waiting for you
here--a non-exchange professorship. Love to have you."
"Thank you," Narli replied politely.
Mrs. Purrington broke into loud sobs when he told her he was leaving
Earth. "Oh, I'll miss you so, Narli! You will write, won't you?"
"Yes, of course," he said grimly. That made two hundred and eighteen
people to whom he'd had to promise to write.
It was fortunate he was traveling as a guest of the North American
government, he thought as he supervised the loading of his matched
interplanetary luggage; his eight steamer baskets; his leather-bound
_Encyclopedia Terrestria_, with his name imprinted in gold on each
volume; his Indian war-bonnet; his oil painting of the President; and
his six cases of champagne--all parting gifts--onto the liner. Otherwise
the fee for excess luggage would take what little remained of his bank
account. There had been so many expenses--clothes and hostess gifts and
ice.
Not all his mementoes were in his luggage. A new rare-metal watch
gleamed on each of his four furry wrists; a brand-new trobskin wallet,
platinum key-chain, and uranium fountain pen were in his pocket; and a
diamond and curium bauble clasped a tie lovingly handpainted by a female
student. The argyles on his fuzzy ankles had been knitted by another.
Still another devoted pupil had presented him with a hand-woven plastic
case full of frismil nuts to eat on the way back.
* * * * *
"Well, Narli!" Slood said, his face swelling with joy. "Well, well!
You've put on weight, I see."
Narli dropped into his old chair with a sigh. Surely Slood might have
picked something else to comment on first--his haggardness, for
instance, or the increased spirituality of his expression.
"Nothing else to do on Earth in your leisure moments but eat, I
suppose," Slood said, pushing over the nut tray. "Even their food. Have
some frismils."
"No, thank you," Narli replied coldly.
Slood looked at him in distress. "Oh, how you must have suffered! Was it
very, very bad, Narli?"
Narli hunched low in his chair. "It was just awful."
"I'm sure they didn't mean to be unkind," Slood assured him. "Naturally,
you were a strange creature to them and they're only--"
"_Unkind?_" Narli gave a bitter laugh. "They practically killed me with
kindness! It was fuss, fuss, fuss all the time."
"Now, Narli, I do wish you wouldn't be quite so sarcastic."
"I'm _not_ being sarcastic. And I wasn't a strange creature to them. It
seems there's a sort of popular child's toy on Earth known as a--" he
winced--"teddy bear. I aroused pleasant childhood memories in them, so
they showered me with affection and edibles."
Slood closed his eyes in anguish. "You are very brave, Narli," he said
almost reverently. "Very brave and wise and good. Certainly that would
be the best thing to tell our people. After all, the Terrestrials are
our allies; we don't want to stir up public sentiment against them. But
you can be honest with _me_, Narli. Did they refuse to serve you in
restaurants? Were you segregated in public vehicles? Did they shrink
from you when you came close?"
Narli beat the desk with all four hands. "I was hardly ever given the
chance to be alone! They crawled all over me! Restaurants begged for my
trade! I had to hire private vehicles because in public ones I was
mobbed by admirers!"
"Such a short time," Slood murmured, "and already suspicious of even me,
your oldest friend. But don't talk about it if you don't want to,
Narli.... Tell me, though, did they sneer at you and whisper
half-audible insults? Did they--"
"You're right!" Narli snapped. "I _don't_ want to talk about it."
Slood placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "Perhaps that's
wisest, until the shock of your experience has worn off."
Narli made an irritable noise.
"The Perzils are giving a vilbar party tonight," Slood said. "But I know
how you feel about parties. I've told them you're exhausted from your
trip and won't be able to make it."
"Oh, you did, did you?" Narli asked ironically. "What makes you think
you know how I feel about parties?"
"But--"
"There's an interesting saying on Earth: 'Travel is so broadening.'" He
looked down at his bulges with tolerant amusement. "In more than one
way, in case the meaning eludes you. Very sound psychologically. I've
discovered that I _like_ parties. I _like_ being _liked_. If you'll
excuse me, I'm going to inform the Perzils that I shall be delighted to
come to their party. Care to join me?"
"Well," Slood mumbled, "I'd like to, but I have so much work--"
"Introvert!" said Narli, and he began dialing the Perzils.
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