From an Unseen Censor

by Rosel George Brown

There was a sort of rustling sound and in walked a huge, white, wingless bird.

"My name," the dodo repeated, somewhat plaintively this time, with a glance toward the lunch compartment, "is Isadore Summers."

I couldn't help it. I rolled all over the ship with laughter. Rene looked a little shamefaced, tossed his gun onto the rack and punched the lighting on.

Obviously the dodo recognized our lunch compartment from familiarity with Uncle Izzy's ship. Then he looked at the alcohol tap that led from the fuel conversion. "Nepenthe?" he begged.

I hesitated. "Isn't there something," I asked Rene, "about corrupting the natives of a primitive planet?"

But Rene was sitting on his bunk, his jaw slack. "This is the first time I've ever been made a fool of by an alcoholic bird."

"If it's just a bird, of course. Like a parrot...."

I addressed the bird. "Sir," I began, and caught myself, "or perhaps madam, can you say anything else?"

"Nepenthe," the bird said firmly.

I shrugged and drew a cup. The dodo lifted the cup and drained it in one smooth gesture. This, as it turned out, was the only thing it seemed to do smoothly.