Joe Carson's Weapon
Date: 2020-10-10T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science fiction; Short stories; Humorous stories; Martians -- Fiction; Human-alien encounters -- Fiction

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Joe Carson's Weapon

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Joe Carson's Weapon

Author: James R. Adams

Release date: October 10, 2020 [eBook #63429]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63429

Credits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOE CARSON'S WEAPON ***

Joe Carson's Weapon

By JAMES R. ADAMS

From Mars they had come, these vanguards
of a ruthless horde that would conquer
Earth—if they could steal the weapon
of Joe Carson's fertile mind.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Joe Carson grinned broadly and again reread his letter to the editor of Galactic Adventures. Galactic Adventures was Joe's favorite science-fiction magazine and he had spent many happy hours roaming the cold of space and inventing ponderous machines through the medium of its pages.

The latest issue lay open on the desk before him, its garish cover mercifully hidden from view. The cover was Joe's main reason for writing his missive, although he had several minor motives, not the least of them being his desire to see his name in print. The book was opened to the readers' section, which contained various vituperative gripes, complaints and kicks in the pants for the editor, intermingled with gushy, complimentary notes that praised the magazine to high heaven. Boy! That one from Henry Snade (The Obscure Organism) was a lulu. It told the editor, in no uncertain terms, where to go and gave half a page of reasons why he should never return.

Joe had all but bashed his brains out trying to pen a letter half as entertaining as the one from Snade and now his eyes flickered with appreciation as he scanned the product of his efforts.

Ye Humble Ed:

Once again the keeper has negligently left my door unlatched and I slyly crawl from my cage, drawn by one, irrevocable purpose. Glancing hither and yon, to make sure I am unobserved, I dash to the fence and clear it with a prodigious leap that carries me half way to the corner drugstore.

Snatching a tricycle from a gawping kid, I push his face in the mud and pedal furiously the remaining distance to the store. Leaping off, I rush in and batter my way through the screaming throng, shouting imprecations at all who stand in my way.

Panting with exhaustion, I at last reach my goal and clutch it to my breast. The crowd surges forward and frantic hands grab at the prize.

"It's mine! All mine!" I shout in their faces. "No one can take it from me!"

Galloping madly from the store I race swiftly across yards and up alleys, quickly losing the howling mob in the distance. Squatting under a street-lamp, I sneak a triumphant look at the treasure. What is it? Yep, you guessed it—Galactic Adventures!

But—shades of Major Mars!—what is that horrible monstrosity on the cover? A BEM, no less ... an abominable, wretched BEM. Why, oh why, can't we have at least one different cover painting? Wesley is no good. Get Marlini or Sidney to do the covers. I don't mind a BEM now and then, but a steady diet of them soon palls on the palate. (Heh heh.) All joking aside, your covers are terrific.

Now we come to the task of rating the stories. Only one stands out in my mind as being of excellent quality. I refer to Arthur M. Ron's super-epic, The Infinite Finite. The other stories paled into insignificance in comparison to this classic. More power to Ron! Percival's Puissant Pulveriser and Nothing Is Something follow Ron's story in that order. The rest are not worth mentioning.

The interior illustrations are somewhat better than the cover, although, for the most part, they are inaccurate and do not follow the themes of the stories. Ye gods! Can't your artists read? So much for the art, which wasn't so much.

Say! What does that jerk, The Amphibious Android, mean by calling me a "mere child"? His assertion that I'm but a youth of fifteen is a good way off the beam. I've been reading Galactic Adventures for the past eight years and I was nine years old when I picked up my first copy, so figure it out for yourself. A jug of sour zeni to him. May fire burst out in his s.f. collection and utterly destroy it. No! I retract that. That's too horrible a fate, even to visit upon The Amphibious Android. Let him wallow in his ignorance. I, The Super Intellect, will smile down on him and forgive him his sins.

That's an interesting letter from Charlie Lane. The Miserable Mutant has propounded an amazing theory that has set me to wondering. Perhaps G. A. can induce one of its authors to work this theory into a story. I'm reserving my four wooden nickels right now for the tale, if it is written. I'll even suggest a title—Those Who Are Froze In The Cosmos. How's that? Well, I didn't like it either.

Once again I tear my hair and roar: GIVE US TRIMMED EDGES! Ye Ed must know by now that the majority of fandom is in favor of trimmed edges. As it is, one comes suddenly to the most interesting part of a story, at the very bottom of a page and spends several moments feverishly attempting to gain a hold on the ragged edge and go on to the next passage. By the time he has accomplished this, he is a raving lunatic, a martyr to trimmed edges. I am not a crusader, as is The Misled Biped, but I insist on seeing justice done.

As a whole, this is a fair issue. I might even call it good, if it were not for the artwork and stories. Ron's epic will live forever in my mind, although its ending was rather weak and it could have been developed into a more powerful tale by having the Slads all die in the Inferno.

I enter my plea for longer stories. A long novel by M. S. Jensen would be appreciated. His last, Dr. Higbaum's Strange Manifestation, was a gem. On the other hand, short stories are not without merit and good old G. A. wouldn't be the same without them. I believe the story policy had best remain as is.

Give Higgins a rest. His yarns are rapidly degenerating into hack, with only four out of the last five meeting with this reader's approval. I don't like to be finicky, but it seems like he isn't contributing his best material to G. A.

Well, this missive is growing to huge proportions and I would like to see it in print, so I'd better sign off.

Oh, yeh, almost forgot to comment on the departments. They are all good, with The Reader's Opinion being the most interesting. Ye Ed's ruminations come in for a close second. Do not change the departments in any way, although the quiz and the Strange Phenomena feature could be discontinued, without any great loss.

Before I close, I wish to make a revelation which will rock the world. Yes, Ed, I have a secret weapon! Nothing can stand against this terrible invention and, with it, I could even destroy Earth, with Mars and Pluto thrown in for good measure. Beware, Ed, lest you arouse my ire and cause me, in my wrath, to unleash this vast force upon helpless, trusting mankind.

Having read G. A. from cover to cover, I crawl back to my cage, drooling with delight. Prying up a loose stone in the center of the floor, I tenderly deposit the mag among the other issues of my golden hoard. Replacing the stone, I sigh contentedly and manipulate my lower lip with two fingers to indicate complete satisfaction. See you next issue!

Joe Carson
The Super Intellect

Joe carefully placed the letter in a previously addressed envelope, mentally complimenting himself for authoring such a masterpiece. Slapping a stamp on the back, he sealed the envelope and rushed forth to post it at the nearest mail-box.

Harl and Kir-Um slowly materialized and glanced about to take stock of their surroundings. They were on the roof of some tall building and night pressed in all about them, relieved only by the intermittent winking of a huge neon sign anchored on the roof.

They had come from far off Mars to draw out and discover the weaknesses of Earth—for the Great Invasion was not far in the offing and the Grand Councilor had deemed it wise to know in advance where best to strike and in what manner.

Mars was in its final death throes and its inhabitants must soon immigrate to a new world or perish. Their sister planet, Earth, was best adapted to their particular form of life, thus it had been selected for subjugation to their purpose.

The atoms that were Harl and Kir-Um were hurled, in a state of fluidity, through space, to be reassembled on Earth. For the purpose of escaping detection, they had assumed the bodies of terrestrials and now they stood, staring triumphantly out over this world that was soon to be theirs. The conquering hordes would follow later in spaceships, as soon as Harl and Kir-Um had gathered the necessary data.

Harl spoke—mastering the strange vocal-cords with an ease that amazed him. To be sure, he spoke an alien, unintelligible tongue. We translate:

"Well, Kir-Um, what now? We have arrived at our destination, but I haven't the slightest idea what to do next."

Kir-Um pondered this a moment and eventually answered: "The situation suggests we first descend to the surface of this world and, from there, perhaps we can map a line of attack."

"E-e-e-ump!" Harl made the noise, which, on Mars, denoted extreme pleasure. "Excellent, Kir-Um. How can a decadent civilization, such as this one undoubtedly is, stand against such brilliant minds as ours?"

"You are right, as usual, Harl," Kir-Um agreed. "My analysis of the problem was only typical of a Martian. Now, let us proceed to the base of this crude structure."

By diligent search, they finally located a stair leading downward and cautiously made their way into the bowels of the building.

Reaching the fifth floor, Kir-Um placed a restraining hand on Harl's shoulder and pointed excitedly to a door at the far end of the hall. Light streamed from beneath it and glowed faintly through the frosted glass panel set in its upper half.

Scarcely daring to breathe, they approached the door and stood, regarding it with apprehensive eyes. Harl noted the gold-leaf lettering on the glass panel, but the cryptic legend had no meaning to his Martian mind. But, to an Earthly member of that rabid army known as scientification fans, the words would have brought a tinge of awe. For this was the room where far-flung systems were denied existence, by one shake of a firm, unyielding head; where the most expressive cuss-words of super villains were brutally censored with a fiendish swipe of a little, blue pencil—the editorial office of Galactic Adventures.

"Harl," Kir-Um whispered softly. "There's a creature in that room! Do you not detect its thought vibrations?"

Harl opened his mind to reception and stood a moment, as if in a trance. His eyes slowly dilated and he gasped in astonishment.

"Yes, Kir-Um, there is a creature in there. A strange, horrible creature, possessed of mad, meaningless thoughts. I—I wonder what it looks like?"

Kir-Um pointed to a small, oddly-shaped aperture, which undoubtedly was some sort of device for locking the door. Hesitantly he stepped forward and placed his eye to the hole.

Inside the room, Newt Jorgsen, the building's janitor, was hugely enjoying the contents of a letter he had retrieved from the wastebasket. Tears streamed from his blurry eyes and his bent, bony shoulders shook with spasms of laughter. His gunboat feet were planted firmly on the editor's desk and a tall bottle of beer, smuggled in by devious means and of which Newt was inordinately fond, sat on the floor at his side. The letter was from one Joe Carson and the mirth it provoked almost caused Newt to spill from his precarious perch and brought numerous, gleeful shouts of, "Oh, Yimminy!" from his foam-flecked lips.

Kir-Um stared in amazement at this tableau and uttered a quick, staccato, "Ickly-unc!" Luckily, Newt did not hear the Martian's expression of surprise, but continued his perusal of the letter.

Kir-Um drew back and silently motioned Harl to look. Harl sucked in his breath, but dutifully bent forward to the door. Newt had just placed the bottle to his lips and Harl gasped with horror as he half-emptied it, with one, tremendous gulp. On Mars, such wanton waste of moisture would be punished with swift death, without benefit of trial. But this wasn't Mars: this was Earth, the planet of abundance.

Kir-Um plucked at Harl's sleeve. "Why do we cringe at the sight of this creature, Harl?" he whispered. "After all, it is no more repulsive than are these wretched bodies we have nobly assumed, for the glory of our race. We are great, Harl. Unselfishly, we have foregone the pleasures and conveniences of our magnificent physiques, so that our civilization might once again take its rightful place in the destiny of our System."

Harl's mind wistfully conjured a picture of his own, splendid body, with its bulbous head, sleek, furry torso and many sensitive tentacles, and he sighed heavily. "Yes, we are truly martyrs. My only regret is, I have but nine tentacles to give for my species."

The two ceased their council of self-glorification and stood "listening" to the thoughts of the Being inside. Their first impression was that the Earthman was insane, so the mad cogitations of his mind would indicate. Such random notions as: "Corner drugstore ... BEM ... Amphibious Android ... Trimmed edges ..." had no significance to them. But, quite suddenly, they picked up a thought that electrified their very beings and caused a quick glance of fear to pass between them. At the same time, it was a glance of elation, for here they had found what was probably Earth's most invulnerable armament. Intently, they concentrated on the astonishing thought unraveling in the creature's brain.

Newt had reached the next to the last paragraph of Joe Carson's letter and he was now reading it, with great enthusiasm. The hearty chuckles it gave Newt were lost on the Martians, for they did not know the meaning of humor. They understood only that here was the greatest force against which they would have to contend; the biggest obstacle in the path of the coming invasion; a barrier that would have to be battered down and made impotent.

"This is incredible, Harl," Kir-Um whispered in awe. "Imagine it—a weapon powerful enough to destroy all Earth! With such a thing, they could completely annihilate our invading forces."

"It causes me no little alarm," Harl agreed. "I can't conceive of such a fantastic weapon, but perhaps these Earthlings possess more intelligence than we give them credit for. Perhaps they have anticipated our invasion and have prepared for it."

"Harl," Kir-Um said with great solemnity, "I believe we are standing in a citadel of science. A place where great, new theories and devices are propounded and deliberated. And that creature in there is the guiding hand of this stronghold of knowledge. The letter he is reading was undoubtedly written by the highest intellect of this world. As you say, this genius may have foreseen our coming and moved to nullify it. Spurred on by desperation, he created this marvelous weapon and thought to surprise our onrushing, confident armies with an impregnable defense. Quite by chance, we have stumbled upon this dastardly plot, before it could be brought to bear."

"But what can we do?" Harl despaired. "The letter does not reveal the nature of this weapon. How can we combat something of which we know absolutely nothing? I am of the opinion we should abandon our conquest and die a slow, peaceful death on our own aging world."

Kir-Um deliberated this advice, the deciding factor being a vision of the Grand Councilor rising up in all his wrath and condemning the two who had brought the bad news.

"No, Harl. The Grand Councilor might not approve of such a course. To suggest such a thing would be to admit we have failed, and the Councilor does not tolerate failure. Without thought of the consequences, he might order us executed and deprive our planet of two of its greatest minds. No, that won't do."

"We have no alternative," Harl pointed out, still whispering. "We cannot stand against such a weapon, and better to sacrifice ourselves than have our entire space fleet meet with destruction. If only our armies could come through the Ato-Decomposera Twunend-Materializationa Tutherend, perhaps we could surprise these scheming Earthlings and overwhelm them, before they could bring this tremendous force into play. But, unfortunately, we don't have the metal to build enough of the machines."

Kir-Um nodded thoughtfully. "No, we can't stand against this weapon. But we can gain possession of it and put it to our own use!"

Harl stared uncomprehendingly at Kir-Um. "You mean, ferret out this genius and force him to divulge the plans of his invention?"

There was a gleam in Kir-Um's eye now. "Not only that, we'll secure a working model and take it with us, to study and build from. No doubt the weapon is complicated and, in this manner, we can gain first-hand knowledge of its working."

"E-e-e-ump," Harl murmured softly. "Good, good, Kir-Um. It amazes me that I didn't think of the very same thing. But, of course, you're one hundred and thirty nine years older than I and, naturally, your mind is more alert."

"Naturally," Kir-Um nodded. "But to get back to more vital matters.... We shall go to this Joe Carson, who, according to the thoughts of that creature inside, resides in a place called Majestic, Maine. I also receive the impression this town is three hundred miles north of here, in a straight line. The problem of transportation is easily solved; we will purloin some sort of vehicle for the purpose. Once there, we shall question this intellect, under influence of a hypnotic sleep, and lay bare his secret. The plan will move forward of its own momentum then. Let us go."

The two alien beings from a far world eventually gained the ground floor and, easily forcing the, to them, crude lock, made their way out into the night.

For a long moment, they stood, looking up at the black, impassive sky. Something within their hearts called out to the mocking void for reassurance; pleading for a tiny shred of encouragement. But no answer came from the hollow emptiness that surrounded them.

Then, placing a thumb and finger to their nostrils, in the ageless Martian gesture signifying complete unity of purpose, Harl and Kir-Um strode forth to meet the destiny that awaited them.

Joe Carson glanced back uneasily at the two disheveled, unkempt figures pedaling along wearily behind him. He was returning home from the nearest drugstore, having purchased there all the latest science-fiction magazines he could lay his hands on. The mysterious strangers had appeared suddenly from a side-street, four blocks back, and had clung doggedly to his trail, from that point on. Joe didn't know what they were up to, but he was keeping a wary eye on them.

Harl and Kir-Um had performed a somewhat remarkable feat in driving two stolen bicycles across three hundred odd miles of steaming, strength-sapping, concrete highways and bumpy, bone-dry country lanes, that weren't much more than wagon-ruts through the woods. They had made many false starts and had fallen prey to numerous mishaps, such as punctures and broken spokes. They had subsisted on berries, small game and whatever food they could glean from a farmer's field. Since they had not yet mastered the tongue of these Earth people, they couldn't ask for food at the small road-stands that dotted the way. Nor could they ask directions to their destination. But, by dint of stubborn adherence to their purpose, they had, at last, arrived at the little, prosaic town of Majestic. Covered with dust from head to foot and ready to topple, from sheer exhaustion, they made their way through the streets, feeling a dull conviction of defeat growing within them. For they were unable to read the names of the streets or the numbers of the houses lined tidily along each side, like proud soldiers. It was night again and the uncompromising gloom only added to their despair. The glaring street-lamps winked gleefully at their plight and cast strange shadows to confuse their tired minds. The plain natives who passed them paid no attention to the Martians. Being of a farming community, they were used to seeing men encrusted with dirt and grime, going home to a hard-earned night's rest.

Harl and Kir-Um were about ready to concede failure, when they had turned from a side-street into the main thoroughfare. There, a thought impinged upon their ever-receptive minds that lent new zest to their sinking spirits. The reflection they received was:

"Boy! You're a lucky stiff, Joe Carson. You'll sure have some good reading tonight!"

Joe Carson! The name struck a vibrant chord in their brains and sent a feeling of elation surging through their bodies. Here was the object of their quest. The person whom they had travelled across scores of miles of terrifying, unfamiliar terrain to find.

Immediately they took up a close orbit in his wake, determined not to lose this brilliant inventor of strange weapons in the darkness of the night.

Joe was at once aware of his shadows, but he thought perhaps they merely happened to be going his way. As block followed block, however, with no let-up of the pursuit, he began to suspicion a dire purpose behind their actions.

Harl and Kir-Um were slowly overtaking the object of their chase, making no attempt to conceal themselves. Squeezing out every last bit of energy, they matched pace with Joe, as he speeded up his pedaling in an effort to pull away.

Joe was beginning to get a little bit scared. What could he have that the strangers would want? Certainly not his bike, for it was worth only a few dollars and had just about seen the end of its years of usefulness. He laughed mentally at the fantastic thought that maybe they were after his science-fiction magazines. Then, what?

They were approaching Joe's house now and his fear mounted steadily. His parents were gone, away at some social function, and they wouldn't return for three or four hours yet. There was nothing else to do, and so Joe, philosophically deciding to let fate take its course leaped from his bike and made a sudden dash for the shelter of the house.

Instantly they were after him, pounding across the dew-laden sod with all the agility and grace of a couple of rampaging hippopotamuses. Joe bounded through the front door and swung to snap the night-lock. At that moment, something grasped his mind in a firm, unrelenting grip. He no longer had any desire to resist the intruders and stood waiting for them to enter and make him prisoner. Quickly Harl and Kir-Um forced him into a chair and stared down at their victim with triumphant eyes.

"So," Harl panted. "At last we shall learn the secret of Joe Carson, Earth's most amazing genius. Kir-Um, he is but a youth. I shudder at the thought of one so young possessing so much knowledge. Could it be that we have made a mistake?"

Kir-Um looked up at Harl reprovingly. "Do Martians ever err?" he demanded. "No, this boy has a powerful, secret weapon and we must get it from him, at all costs. I can't understand you, Harl. It would seem as if you actually sympathize with these puny Earth people. The Councilor wouldn't like to hear that, Harl. I would hate to see my best friend put to death because he was too friendly with the enemy."

"I'm not friendly with these Earthlings, Kir-Um," Harl hastily objected. "I merely think we should be cautious and not proceed at too fast a pace but what we shall be lured into some sort of death trap."

"Well and good," Kir-Um nodded. "I believe we both realize our task calls for vigilance and a meticulous sifting of fact from fancy. That much goes unsaid. Conceding this genius is merely a boy, perhaps he is a child prodigy or, then again, he may have invented this weapon by accident. That is of little import, however. He has the weapon, we want it and we shall have it."

Harl bowed humbly. "You are right again, Kir-Um. Your deductive powers constantly amaze me. Shall we begin the questioning?"

Kir-Um wasted no time in preliminaries, but came right to the point.

"Where is your secret weapon, boy?" he snapped. He spoke in his native Martian tongue, but the thought behind the words was quite clear in Joe Carson's receptive mind. Joe fumbled for words and finally answered:

"Weapon? What weapon? The only kind of weapon I've got is my Daisy B-B gun, and that's no secret. Mr. Jones, next door, found out about it yesterday when I shot out his front room window. Boy, was he sore!"

Kir-Um nodded knowingly at Harl and said, in an aside: "He's trying to mislead us. But he won't succeed. The truth will out."

Harl leaned forward to try his hand at the cross-examination. "You know very well what weapon we mean, creature. You have kept your secret well, but now you must relinquish it. Do not try to delude us with fanciful stories and false denials."

"Somebody's been feeding you a line, chum," Joe laughed. "Your trolley's jumped the track. Go on back to your cage, pa, and dream up another one. You bore me."

The Martians realized the youth's mental barrier was going to be more difficult to break through than they had anticipated. The situation called for tact, yet the amount of time left to them necessitated a direct attack. Kir-Um summoned all the powers of concentration at his command and slowly, but surely, forced Joe's mind into a state of passiveness. Satisfied, at last, the Earthling would give direct replies to his questions, Kir-Um once more took over the interrogating duties.

"You cannot deceive us, boy," he began. "A few days ago, you wrote a letter to Earth's great science center, Galactic Ventures, I believe it is. In this letter, you stated you possessed a secret weapon, powerful enough to destroy this whole planet. You did not divulge the details of this invention, but promised dire happenings to anyone unfortunate enough to have this weapon directed upon them. We want the plans of this amazing contrivance and you will do well to place them in our hands, without delay."

"Oh, that," Joe's voice came dull and emotionless. "That's just a joke. Just something I dreamed up to give the ed. a laugh."

Harl and Kir-Um didn't know what a 'laugh' was, but they did know that they were finally making some progress. A meaningful glance passed between them and they silently congratulated themselves for uncovering the genius' secret in such short order.

"And these Jokes, creature," Harl spoke, "does anyone beside yourself possess them?"

The Martians feared perhaps this strange scientist had already distributed his weapon among his fellowmen, in preparation to resist the coming attack. Joe's next revelation immediately justified their fears and shocked them to the point of frustration.

"Sure. All the stf. fans have their little jokes, and they never miss a chance to use them on some dumb ninny. Once I saw the Misled Biped pull a joke on a guy and he nearly went into epileptic fits. Of course, it was a low-grade joke, or it would have laid him out cold as a mackeral. You better never meet up with a fan when he's in a joking mood, 'cause they don't have a bit of mercy and he'd probably play you till you busted wide open."

The goggling intruders had visions of their marvelous bodies, bloated till they were but horrible travesties of themselves, then to burst apart like rotten bladders. Their eyes tried to pierce the forbidding blackness of the suddenly-alive corners of the room and sandpaper tongues darted nervously across dry lips. This bland-faced boy seated in front of them was suddenly a repulsive gargoyle, squatting in his evil throne and reveling in his fiendish power.

Harl coughed and made a feeble effort to compose himself. He had been right—this was too big for them to cope with. They may as well return to Mars and forget their dream of conquest. The Grand Councilor was a fool for ever sending them on such a foolhardy expedition and he and Kir-Um were still bigger fools for accepting the task. Yet, how could they have known they would have to face a smoothly-geared organization consisting of bloodthirsty monsters and power-mad geniuses who dreamed up fantastic weapons just as an idle pastime? It was a plain case of underestimation of the foe, a miserable, stupid failure.

"Don't give up so easily, Harl," Kir-Um had intercepted Harl's unguarded thoughts and, realizing utter despair was rapidly pulling them down to the point of bolting for the door and making a frantic exit from this mad world, grimly purchased a new hold on his waning optimism.

"Don't forget," he added, carefully shielding his thoughts from the ugly Earth-creature, "once this force is in our hands, we will be as powerful as they. More so, in fact, by virtue of our superior intelligence and our ability to improve the Jokes and make of them weapons far surpassing the crude originals in performance. The mere mention of a Joke seems to cause a strange emotion in this youth; an odd, violent vibrating of the entire body, accompanied by spasmodic grunts and squeaks. Probably it is his passionate reaction to the thought of the magnitude of his terrible deed. It is like nothing a Martian has ever known. But it is proof this Earthling regards his own creation with apprehensive fear and is reverently aware of its immense potentialities. We must also realize only a portion of the population of this world has Jokes at their command, which will make our invasion easier and our victory far more certain. True, many of us will die, but, in the end, we will have Earth and all its wondrous resources for our very own. Would you place your own personal valuation above the continuation of our species, Harl? Do you respect the wishes of the Councilor—Dibble-Ibble, bless him—or do you love your own precious fur in preference to honor and glory? Reflect a moment, Harl, and I know you'll see the wrongness of your decision."

Harl's chin was already halfway down to his feet and his shamed blushing indicated he had reconsidered and repented. He still had his doubts, but they had been squelched to a bare fraction of their former greatness by Kir-Um's defaming tirade.

Kir-Um reminded Harl of their determination by pinching his nostrils together and, assured of Harl's co-operation, resumed the questioning of the youth.

"Do you have a Joke with you now, creature?" he asked curiously.

"You bet," Joe replied. "I'm lousy with 'em. Wanta hear one? I got one that'll simply kill you."

The Martians recoiled in terror.

"No," Kir-Um said sternly. "We do not wish to have the Joke demonstrated on us. The first suspicious move you make, Earthling, and you are dead. You may exhibit the Joke and operate it, if you wish, but do not direct it at us, for your life."

"Okay," Joe agreed amiably. "I'll just give you sort of a sample. Here goes: Why did the moron plant dynamite in the dairy? He wanted to see a boom in the ice cream industry!"

Joe bent double, clasping his hands to his stomach and emitting loud "Haws" and raucous "Hee hees." His head bobbed back and forth like an apple in a tub and his feet played a staccato rhythm on the carpeted floor.

Harl and Kir-Um looked on in confused wonder. They could see no reason for the boy's sudden outburst. They looked in vain for the weapon Joe had promised to display. Then the light dawned in Kir-Um's mind and he let go with a tremendous: "E-e-e-ump!"

"Harl!" he said excitedly. "Don't you see—it's the words! The words are the weapon; his Joke, as he calls it. Imagine it—words built into a complex pattern to form a destructive force! It is in an embryo stage though, Harl. This creature barely averted disaster just now when his Joke back-fired on him. The pain must be excruciating, the way he is retching and gasping for breath. We may consider ourselves lucky he didn't aim the weapon at us. I shudder at the thought."

Harl was shuddering, too. They were indeed fortunate they were not the object of the force Joe had unleashed, or they would probably now be nothing but lifeless hulks, rotting on the weird world that had betrayed them. He could not understand how words could cause such havoc, but undoubtedly they could, for wasn't the pitiful Thing before them even now contorted with the paralyzing torture he had accidentally inflicted upon himself? Harl knew he could never forget the gruesome drama he was now witnessing. Why, even the creature they had encountered at the citadel of science must have been a victim of a Joke, for he had acted in the same strange manner.

"That's the only possible explanation, Harl," Kir-Um was speaking again. "This Earthling has discovered a way to assemble words in such a formation as to cause a violent agitation in whatever they are directed upon. I suspect, Harl, if this genius had received the full force of that Joke, it would have shaken him apart, utterly and completely. In other words, it would have decomposed his atoms and spread them from here to Dibble-Ibble knows where. Now, we must learn how to form these word patterns, thus to use them against our foe in the coming invasion. Creature, have you a treatise on Jokes?"

Joe ceased his giggling and thought a moment. Yes, he did have a treatise on jokes and they would find it in his desk upstairs. Be sure and not touch his perpetual-motion machine, though, for it was delicately balanced.

Kir-Um immediately dispatched Harl to procure the valuable document and waited impatiently till his companion returned. He accepted the book reverently and placed it safely in an inside pocket.

"Good," he muttered. "Now, creature, you will forget all that took place here."

Joe nodded dully. "I understand. You guys are strictly from dreams. I won't remember a thing about you when I come out of my coma."

The Martians walked to the door and turned to stare triumphantly at their strange companion of the evening. There was a slight twinge of pity in Harl's heart, as he thought of this boy as nothing but a bunch of jumbled atoms flying helter-skelter through the universe, all because he had made a Joke.

"You will awaken an hour after we leave," Kir-Um directed.

"Sixty minutes to the dot," Joe affirmed.

Harl and Kir-Um stepped through the door and breathed deeply of the night air. It all seemed like a nightmare now, but the significant bulge in Kir-Um's coat pocket confirmed their brief interlude with the amazing genius, Joe Carson.

Kir-Um withdrew the book and painfully deciphered the title, by the light streaming from a window. It read: Joe Miller's Joke Book. The printer must have made a mistake, he reflected. It should read: Joe Carson's Joke Book. But no matter.

In the Martians' minds, a picture formed. It was a beautiful picture. Hundreds of sleek, fast spaceships hurtled down on Earth, forming almost a solid sky of steel above the hapless planet. They were strange spaceships, for apparently they carried no armament. The metal that would have been used to equip the ships with guns had, instead, gone into the building of more dreadnaughts of space, for they possessed a weapon far more destructive than any bolt from a ray-gun or blast of a disintegrator-cannon. On the bridge of each ship stood a renowned Martian scientist, a small book clutched tightly in his hand. And on the flagship, the Grand Councilor himself occupied the place of honor, the original copy of the weapon open on a stand before him. As the huge armada entered Earth's atmosphere, gigantic amplifiers blared forth messages of doom to the inhabitants. Words with horrible meaning assailed the ears of the population: 'Why doesn't a chicken cross the road? It doesn't want on the other side!' 'Who was that wife I seen you with last night? That was no wife, that was a lady!' Human creatures screamed in agony and fell in the streets. Ghastly moans of 'Ha haw oh hee!' escaped from clenched teeth and bodies retched with the unbearable pain of their torture. Slowly their bodies decomposed, losing a couple of billion atoms with each convulsion. Soon, not a human remained on Earth and this beautiful world and all its riches passed into the hands of the proven superior species—the Martians. Ah! It was a lovely dream. But soon it would be more than a dream—it would be happy reality. Harl and Kir-Um both sighed together.

Spacers would hover, their mighty weapons blaring forth.

They pressed buttons concealed under their coats and slowly began to fade, their outlines becoming indistinct and hazy. Kir-Um raised a hand to his head in salute.

"Poor, foolish Earthlings," he murmured, "this is the end. Always remember, if it had not been for Joe Carson's Joke, you would never have found your demise. I salute you, strange creatures."

And they were gone.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOE CARSON'S WEAPON ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg

Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516, Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

- Joe Carson's Weapon

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE