The Werewolf Principle Read Free

yammering of that fool outside, you gathered that I’m a senator.”
    â€œI am honored, senator,” said Blake, “and, Miss Elaine, very pleased to meet you.”
    â€œBlake?” said the girl. “I have heard the name somewhere. Very recently. Tell me, what are you famous for?”
    â€œWhy, not a thing,” said Blake.
    â€œBut it was in all the papers. And you were on dimensino—the live, news part of it. Now I know! You are the man who came back from the stars.…”
    â€œYou don’t say,” said the senator, heaving himself from the chair. “How very interesting. Mr. Blake, that chair over there is very comfortable. Place of honor, you might say. Next to the fire and all.”
    â€œDaddy,” Elaine said to Blake, “has a tendency to wax baronial, or maybe country-squirish, when company drops in. You must never mind him.”
    â€œThe senator,” said Blake, “is a very gracious host.”
    The senator picked up a decanter and reached for glasses.
    â€œYou’ll recall,” he said, “that I promised you some brandy.”
    â€œAnd,” said Elaine, “be careful that you praise it. Even if it gags you. The senator prides himself as a judge of brandy. And if, a little later, you would like some coffee, we can have that, too. I punched the autochef.…”
    â€œThe chef act up again?” asked the senator.
    Elaine shook her head. “Not especially. Got the coffee, just the way I asked—plus fried eggs and bacon.”
    She looked at Blake. “Want some eggs and bacon? I think they still are warm.”
    He shook his head. “No, thank you very much.”
    â€œThe contraption,” said the senator, “has been on the fritz for years. One spell, no matter what you dialed, it served up roast beef, rare.”
    He handed around the glasses and sat down in his chair. “That’s why I like this place,” he said. “Uncomplicated domicile. It was built three hundred years ago by a man who cared for dignity and had a certain ecological sense that made him build it of native limestone and the timber that grew upon the tract. He did not impose his house upon the habitat; he made it part of it. And, except for the autochef, it has not a single gadget.”
    â€œWe’re old fashioned,” said Elaine. “I have always felt that living in a place like this was akin—well, say, to taking up one’s residence in a sod shanty in the twentieth century.”
    â€œNevertheless,” said Blake, “it has a certain charm. And a sense of security and solidity.”
    â€œYou are right, it has,” said the senator. “Listen to that wind trying to get it. Listen to that rain.”
    He swirled the brandy in his glass.
    â€œIt doesn’t fly, of course,” he said, “and it won’t talk to you. But who wants a house to fly and …”
    â€œDaddy!” said Elaine.
    â€œYou must excuse me, sir,” said the senator. “I have my enthusiasms and I like to talk about them and sometimes I let them run away with me—and there are times, I would suspect, when I have bad manners. My daughter said something about seeing you on dimensino.”
    â€œOf course, Daddy,” said Elaine. “You never pay attention. You’re so wrapped up in the bioengineering hearings that you don’t pay attention.”
    â€œBut, my dear,” said the senator, “the hearings are important. The human race must decide before too long what to do with all these planets we are finding. And I tell you that terraforming them is the solution of a lunatic. Think of all the time that it will take and the money that it will swallow up.”
    â€œBy the way,” said Elaine, “I forgot. Mother phoned. She won’t be home tonight. She heard about the storm and is staying in New York.”
    The senator grunted. “Fine. Bad night for traveling. How was