PLAGUE OF PYTHONS
By FREDERIK POHL
Illustrated by RITTER
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine October and December 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The pythons had entered into Mankind. No man
knew at what moment he might be Possessed!
Because of the crowd they held Chandler's trial in the all-purpose roomof the high school. It smelled of leather and stale sweat. He walked upthe three steps to the stage, with the bailiff's hand on his elbow, andtook his place at the defendant's table.
Chandler's lawyer looked at him without emotion. He was appointed bythe court. He was willing to do his job, but his job didn't require himto like his client. All he said was, "Stand up. The judge is coming in."
Chandler got to his feet and leaned on the table while the bailiffchanted his call and the chaplain read some verses from John. He didnot listen. The Bible verse came too late to help him, and besides heached.
When the police arrested him they had not been gentle. There were fourof them. They were from the plant's own security force and carriedno guns. They didn't need any; Chandler had put up no resistanceafter the first few moments—that is, he stopped as soon as he couldstop—but the police hadn't stopped. He remembered that very clearly.He remembered the nightstick across the side of his head that left hisear squashed and puffy, he remembered the kick in the gut that stillmade walking painful. He even remembered the series of blows about theskull that had knocked him out.
The bruises along his rib cage and left arm, though, he did notremember getting. Obviously the police had been mad enough to keepright on subduing him after he was already unconscious.
Chandler did not blame them—exactly. He supposed he would have donethe same thing.
The judge was having a long mumble with the court stenographerapparently about something which had happened in the Union House thenight before. Chandler knew Judge Ellithorp slightly. He did notexpect to get a fair trial. The previous December the judge himself,while possessed, had smashed the transmitter of the town's radiostation, which he owned, and set fire to the building it occupied. Hisson-in-law had been killed in the fire.
Laughing, the judge waved the reporter back to his seat and glancedaround the courtroom. His gaze touched Chandler lightly, like theflick of the hanging strands of cord that precede a railroad tunnel.The touch carried the same warning. What lay ahead for Chandler wasdestruction.
"Read the charge," ordered Judge Ellithorp. He spoke very loudly.There were more than six hundred persons in the auditorium; the judgedidn't want any of them to miss a word.
The bailiff ordered Chandler to stand and informed him that he wasaccused of having, on the seventeenth day of June last, committed onthe person of Margaret Flershem, a minor, an act of rape—"Louder!"ordered the judge testily.
"Yes, Your Honor," said the bailiff, and inflated his chest. "An Actof Rape under Threat of Bodily Violence," he cried