The Semantic War

by Bill Clothier

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THE SEMANTIC WAR

By BILL CLOTHIER

Illustrated by WES

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction November 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

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Perhaps there have been causes for slaughter
just as silly as this was—but try to find one!

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The rain pours down chill out of a sullen sky. My pace quickens as I try to regain the relative warmth and shelter of the cavern before I become thoroughly drenched. I cannot afford to catch a cold. All alone as I am and with no medicine, I would stand too great a chance of a quick death. These lowering Oregon skies still hold traces of nameless disease in their writhing cloud tendrils. I am not just afraid of a cold. That would only be the key for some other malady to use and strike me down forever.

I see the cave up ahead and feel a sense of contentment as I draw near and then duck inside its stony mouth. The rain hisses without, but inside it is dry. There is a heavy cow-hide hanging on a peg in the wall and I take it down and wrap it around me. Soon I will be warm. Once more I may stave off my ultimate end.