PLANET STORIES
proudly presents one of the best science-fiction stories
we have ever seen. Perhaps you will vote it the best!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Oh, it was to be so jolly! What a game! Such excitement they hadn'tknown in years. The children catapulted this way and that across thegreen lawns, shouting at each other, holding hands, flying in circles,climbing trees, laughing.... Overhead, the rockets flew and beetle-carswhispered by on the streets, but the children played on. Such fun, suchtremulous joy, such tumbling and hearty screaming.
Mink ran into the house, all dirt and sweat. For her seven years shewas loud and strong and definite. Her mother, Mrs. Morris, hardly sawher as she yanked out drawers and rattled pans and tools into a largesack.
"Heavens, Mink, what's going on?"
"The most exciting game ever!" gasped Mink, pink-faced.
"Stop and get your breath," said the mother.
"No, I'm all right," gasped Mink. "Okay I take these things, Mom?"
"But don't dent them," said Mrs. Morris.
"Thank you, thank you!" cried Mink and boom! she was gone, like arocket.
Mrs. Morris surveyed the fleeing tot. "What's the name of the game?"
"Invasion!" said Mink. The door slammed.
In every yard on the street children brought out knives and forks andpokers and old stove pipes and can-openers.
It was an interesting fact that this fury and bustle occurred onlyamong the younger children. The older ones, those ten years and moredisdained the affair and marched scornfully off on hikes or played amore dignified version of hide-and-seek on their own.
Meanwhile, parents came and went in chromium beetles. Repair mencame to repair the vacuum elevators in houses, to fix flutteringtelevision sets or hammer upon stubborn food-delivery tubes. Theadult civilization passed and repassed the busy youngsters, jealousof the fierce energy of the wild tots, tolerantly amused at theirflourishings, longing to join in themselves.
"This and this and this," said Mink, instructing the others withtheir assorted spoons and wrenches. "Do that, and bring that overhere. No! Here, ninnie! Right. Now, get back while I fix this—"Tongue in teeth, face wrinkled in thought. "Like that. See?"
"Yayyyy!" shouted the kids.
Twelve-year-old Joseph Connors ran up.
"Go away," said Mink straight at him.
"I wanna play," said Joseph.
"Can't!" said Mink.
"Why not?"
"You'd just make fun of us."
"Honest, I wouldn't."
"No. We know you. Go away or we'll kick you."
Another twelve-year-old boy whirred by on little motor-skates. "Aye,Joe! Come on! Let them sissies play!"
Joseph showed reluctance and a certain wistfulness. "I want to play,"he said.
"You're old," said Mink, firmly.
"Not that old," said Joe sensibly.
"You'd only laugh and spoil the Invasion."
The boy on the motor-skates made a rude lip noise. "Come on, Joe! Themand their fairies! Nuts!"
Joseph walked off slowly. He kept looking back, all down the block.
Mink was already busy again. She made a kind of apparatus with hergathered equipment. She had appointed another little girl with a padand pencil to take down notes in painful slow scribbles. Their voicesrose and fell in the warm sunlight.
All around them the city hummed. The streets were lined with goodgreen and peaceful trees. Only the wind made a conflict across thecity, across the count