Harlan Ellison Alone Against Tomorrow

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lower form of life.
And Denny replied, Chee, Mr. Jim, I just like to sit an hear ya talk. Wit
all them college words.
I was real unhappy till you come along, ya know?
Yes, Denny, I know. It was a condescending tone of voice if ever I d heard
one.
I knew he d never open the door, so I went looking for the maid from that
floor. She had her ring of keys in her apron, and never even noticed me taking
them. I started back for the room, and stopped.
I thought a moment, and ran back to the elevator. I went downstairs, and
climbed into the booth where the bills were paid, where all the cash was
stored. I found what I was after in one of the till drawers.
I shoved it into my coat pocket, and went back upstairs.
At the door I hesitated. Yes, I could still hear them babbling. I used the
master key to get inside.
When I threw open the door, the man named Jim leaped from the bed and glared
at me. What are you doing in here? Get out at once, or I shall throw you
out!
He started toward me.
I pulled what I had gotten from the till drawer from my pocket, and pointed it
at him. Now just settle back, Mr. Jim, and there won t be any trouble.
He raised his hands very melodramatically, and shuffled backward till his
knee-backs caught the edge of the bed and he sat down with a plop.
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Oh, take down your hands, I said. You look like a bad western movie. His
hands came down self-consciously.
Denny looked at me. What s he doin , Mr. Jim?
I don t know, Denny; I don t know, Jim said slowly, with thought. His eyes
were trained on the barrel of the snub-nosed revolver I held. His eyes were
frightened.
I found myself shaking. I tried to hold the revolver steady, but it wavered in
my hand as though I
was inside the eye of a tornado. I m nervous, fellow, I said, partly to let
him note it, as if he hadn t already, and half to reassure myself that I was
master of the situation. Don t make me any worse than I am right now.
He sat very still, his lowered hands folded in his lap.
For two weeks now, I ve been close to going insane. My wife couldn t see or
hear or feel me. No one in the street could. No one for two weeks. It s like
I m dead...and today I found you two. You re the only ones like me! Now I want
to know what this is all about. What s happened to me?
Denny looked at Mr. Jim, and then at me.
Hey is he cuckoo, Mr. Jim? You want I should slug him, Mr. Jim?
The old man would never have made it.
Jim saw that much, to his credit.
No, Denny. Sit where you are. The man wants some information. I think it s
only fair I give it to him. He looked at me. His face was soft, like a
sponge.
My name is Trempson, Mr.-ah-Mr. what-did-you-say-your-name-was...?
I didn t, but it s Winsocki. Albert Winsocki. Like in the song.
Oh, yes, Mr. Winsocki. Well, his poise and sneering manner were returning as
he saw he at least had the edge on me in information. The reason for your
current state of non-noticeability-you aren t really insubstantial, you
know... that gun could kill me...a truck could run us down and we d be dead-is
very complex. I m afraid I can t give you any scientific explanations, and I m
not even sure there are any. Let s put it this way...
He crossed his legs, and I steadied the gun on him. He went on. There are
forces in the world today, Mr. Winsocki, that are invisibly working to make us
all carbon copies of one another. Forces that crush us into molds of each
other. You walk down the street and never see anyone s face, really. You sit
faceless in a movie, or hidden from sight in a dreary living room watching
television. When you pay bills, or car fares or talk to people, they see the
job they re doing, but never you.
With some of us, this is carried even further. We are so unnoticeable about
it-wallflowers, you might say-all through our lives, that when these forces
that crush us into one mold work enough to get us where they want us, we
just-poof! disappear to all those around us. Do you understand?
I stared at him.
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