Short Fiction by Robert Sheckley (interesting novels in english txt) 📕

with suspicion, as though I might have been responsible for the whole thing. I suppose I was looking at him in the same way.

“Did you hear it?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Did you do it?”

“No. Did you?”

“Most certainly not,” he said indignantly. We stood for a few seconds, just looking at each other. I think we⁠—everybody⁠—knew, right there and then, that it was no hoax. What with the stars disappearing, I mean.

A pretty girl in a fur coat walked up to me. She was young; she looked scared, and very defiant.

“Did you hear it?” she asked us.

“Yes,” I said, and the man nodded.

“Is it possible that she was operating on a loudspeaker?” the girl asked.

“She?” we both said.

“That woman’s voice,” the girl said, looking a little exasperated. “A young woman⁠—she said, ‘Judgment of the inhabitants⁠—’ ”

“It was a man’s voice,” the man said. “Of that I’m certain.” He looked at me, and I nodded.

“Oh no,” the girl told us. “A girl⁠—she even had a slight New England accent⁠—it was unmistakable.” She looked around for support.

The people on Lexington Avenue had gathered in small groups. There were knots of people up and down the sidewalks as far as I could see. The cars still weren’t moving. Most of the drivers had gotten out to ask someone else about the voice.

“Say, pardon me,” some man said to me. “Am I hearing things or did you hear⁠—”

That’s how it was for the next hour. Everyone, it seemed, had heard it. But every woman was sure it had been a woman’s voice, and every man was sure it had been a man’s. I left finally, and went to my store.

Minnie, the salesgirl, and Frank, my stock boy, were already there. They had the radio on, but they were talking over it.

“Say, Mr. Ostersen,” Frank called as I walked in. “Did you hear it?”

I sat down and discussed it with them, but we couldn’t tell each other much. Frank had been in the store when he heard it. Minnie had just been walking in, her hand on the doorknob. Minnie was sure it was a girl’s voice, about her own age, with just the trace of a Bronx accent. Frank and I held out for a man’s voice, but where I was sure the man was in his early forties or late thirties, Frank was positive it was a young man, about twenty or twenty-two.

We noticed the radio, finally. It had been broadcasting all that time, but we hadn’t paid any attention.

“… voice was heard in all parts of the country, at nine-oh-three this morning, Eastern Standard Time. This voice, purporting to be that of⁠—of the, ah, Deity, announcing the Judgment Day, was heard⁠—ah, was heard in all parts of the country.” The voice hesitated, then continued. “In place of our usual program, we now bring you the Reverend Joseph Morrison, who will speak on⁠—” The voice stopped for a moment, then came back with renewed vigor. “The Reverend Joseph Morrison!”

We listened to the radio most of the morning. The Reverend Joseph Morrison seemed as confused as the rest of us, but he was followed by news announcements. The voice had been heard, as far as they could make out, in every country on earth. It had spoken in every language, every dialect and sub-dialect.

Minnie looked dazed as the reports piled in, and Frank looked shocked. I suppose I looked as startled as my normal deadpan would show. At eleven-forty-five I decided to call my wife. No use. I couldn’t even get the operator.

“… possibilities that this is a hoax,” a voice was saying from the radio in an unconvincing tone. “Mass hallucinations are far from unknown, and the chance must be considered. In the Middle Ages⁠ ⁠…”

Cutting through our conversation, and through the blaring radio, smooth as a knife through butter, the voice came again.

“Judgment of the inhabitants of the planet Earth will be held in five days. Please prepare yourselves for final examination and departure. This announcement will be repeated.”

Departure! I thought. Where were we going?

“There!” Frank shouted. “You see⁠—it was a young man!”

“You’re crazy!” Minnie screamed at him. Her hair had fallen over her eyes; she looked like an impassioned cocker spaniel.

“You’re crazy!” Frank shouted back. They stood glaring at each other. Minnie seemed about ready to throw the cash register at him.

“Easy now,” I said. “It seems⁠—it seems like the voice speaks in everybody’s language, and sounds like the sort of voice everybody would know.”

“But how’s that possible?” Frank asked me.

“I don’t know. But it’s certainly logical. If the voice spoke just in Latin or Hebrew or English, none of the Arabs would understand. Or the Armenians. So, while it’s speaking everybody’s language, it might as well speak everybody’s dialect at the same time.”

“Should we call it it?” Frank asked in a whisper. He glanced over his shoulder, as though he expected to find an avenging angel there. “Shouldn’t we refer to it as Him?”

“She, you mean,” Minnie said. “The old masculine idea that God must be a man is just so much ego-wash. Why, the feminine principle is evident all through the universe. Why, why, you just can’t say Him when⁠—when⁠—”

Minnie had never been too strong on ideas. She ran out of breath and stood, panting and pushing back her hair.

After a while we talked about it calmly, and listened to the radio. There were more speakers and another survey of the countries that had heard the second announcement. At two o’clock I told them to go home. It was no use trying to get any work done that day. Besides, there were no customers.

The subways were running again when I reached the B.M.T., and I rode to my home in Queens.

“Of course you heard it?” My wife asked me at the door.

“Of course,” I said. “Was it spoken by a woman in her middle-thirties, with just the trace of a Queens accent?”

“Yes!” Jane said. “Thank God we can agree on something!” But of course we couldn’t.

We talked about it all through supper, and