Part 75

A boy stood in front of a silver recess, leaned down, and a gush of water rose, striking him on the mouth. Only then did Demo realize he was thirsty. When the boy moved Demo approached the recess, leaned down.

Demo frowned. Nothing had happened.

He leaned forward again. A man looked at him, "Hey, it ain't broke again, is it?" The man pressed the button and a stream of water struck Demo's face. He sputtered, then drank thirstily.

What part of Olympus is this, he thought. It resembles nothing I've seen before.

Nevertheless, it was becoming gradually familiar. He entered a little room that had the picture of a man on the door. After watching a few moments he found himself well versed on the facilities.

Fortunately, item after item followed a similar pattern. The important thing was to watch. The paper given to him earlier served as money. You used money to buy from machines and from individuals. Of course, how to get money was unclear.

Then he thought of the boy who had asked him for a dollar. Of course, just ask.

He tried it. At first he felt a little strange, for time after time the individuals he asked seemed a little embarrassed, finally provided either coins or paper. "Damn cults everywhere. All right, here, just leave me alone."

The young supplicant soon found his purse bursting with paper. It was a strange phenomenon. Ask for money, it is given to you. Give it to machines, to individuals, and they give you products. Not too unlike home, except for the first step.

Cronus frowned.

There is something I've overlooked, he thought to himself. Something important. Well, tomorrow I'll get around to it.

The thought struck him.

Demo! He had been aging Demo! Then, he had helped his wife with the sundial. Then . . . . Oh, ho! The boy! What of the boy?

"Ah, I've lost him!" He spoke aloud. "I've let him slip off, and I didn't really note to where - rather, to when. Drat, it's inconvenient. I suppose he'll show up by and by, sometime. Yes. I wonder, what time?"

At that moment he heard his wife calling. Evening meal was ready. Thank goodness, I am famished, thought he.

It was a delicious meal.

Demo left the building, watched the chariots stopped in the broad streets, growls issuing from inside. At times other sounds issued from the vehicles. Loud and raucous, the sounds repeated and repeated, as though some musical instruments were being played out of tune. Accompanying these sounds were screams and yells of tortured innocents.

He could only assume that, in some manner, the chariots had malfunctioned.

Duane Golchick and Ralph Fulcere waited nervously outside the bank door. The customers were thinning out as three o'clock closing time neared. Finally the last of the stragglers left.

Duane and Ralph entered quickly.

"Say, I'm sorry, we were just closing." The guard smiled, motioned them toward the door.

"Just walk over to the counter with us. Put your hands behind your neck and hold 'em there." Duane spoke in a half snarl, held a revolver in his hand.

The guard noticed the nervous motion of the gunbarrel. "Okay, okay, don't be nervous. Whatever you say! Just take it easy! No one's causing any trouble."

"All right, listen up!" Ralph shouted. "This is a holdup! Any screams, any alarms, and we'll take you out. And we don't care who we shoot first, so you heroes just give it a try. Open it up, babe."

He indicated the gate leading behind the counters. The clerk nervously fumbled with the catch, finally opened the gate.

Duane and Ralph cleaned out the drawers, stuffing bills into a garbage bag. "On the floor, all of you. Hands straight out, legs spread, face down. Lift a head, move a muscle, and you're history!"

The left the building quietly. No one had moved. No one was moving now. They ran for the car, parked in a nearby alley.

A man in blue stopped Demo.