The Beast-Jewel of Mars

by V. E. Thiessen

Then suddenly he knew what it was. He remembered the ugly city. When he came out of the corridor, out of this building, the city would be a foul sty again. And the people, he had not seen the people, but they would no doubt be horrible. Nolette, his wife—he could not let himself think of how she would look. It seemed Garve was right and the final prediction had come true. All was finished, even the Daughter of the City had been destroyed.

He began to move up out of the subterranean room and back to the city. He reached the outer door, and did not even pause to look for Nolette, but set his teeth, and stepped out into the city.

And there he was surprised. Here was no ugly city, only a very normal, ordinary one, with ordinary persons going about the streets, blinking at the changes. The lines of the city were still there, but the jeweled panes were ordinary glass.

Eric tried to understand. Then suddenly he recalled his hatred of the city when he had been cast out, his subconscious thoughts of it as evil. He had taken off the helmet, and for an instant he had been out of contact with the elders, disoriented. In that instant the city had shown him his concept of ugliness. That ugly city was as unreal as the fantastically beautiful one created by the elders.

Eric turned, and went back into the building, looking for Nolette.

He found her, standing with Kroon in the great room, before a table which was only laminated wood. She was a slender girl, gray eyed, pleasant to look at, but without the beauty and the music and the witchery of her counterpart.

She said quietly, "It is finished, Eric, and we are not the two who married. It is finished, and the dream is ended."

Eric said only, "Yes," watching her.

She said, "I release you from the marriage. It will be a memory for us both, a wonderful dream that ended before it was consummated, a dream cut short too soon."

Eric asked, "What will you do?" Her voice was hardly changed, and watching her he felt an odd pleasure. There was no wild racing of his blood, yet his interest was awakening.