Case and the Dreamer Read online

  Theodore Sturgeon, circa 1980 to 1983, wearing the “Q” with an arrow that symbolized his credo: “Ask the next question.”

  eISBN: 978-1-58394-757-9

  Copyright © 2010 by the Theodore Sturgeon Literary Trust. Previously published materials copyright by Theodore Sturgeon, renewed by the Theodore Sturgeon Literary Trust. Afterword copyright © 1976, 1997 by Paul Williams. All rights reserved. No portion of this book, except for brief review, may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the written permission of the publisher. For information contact North Atlantic Books.

  Published by

  North Atlantic Books

  P.O. Box 12327

  Berkeley, California 94712

  Cover photo © istockphoto.com/coolmilo

  Cover design by Paula Morrison

  Case and the Dreamer: Volume XIII of The Complete Stories of Theodore Sturgeon is sponsored by the Society for the Study of Native Arts and Sciences, a nonprofit educational corporation whose goals are to develop an educational and cross-cultural perspective linking various scientific, social, and artistic fields; to nurture a holistic view of arts, sciences, humanities, and healing; and to publish and distribute literature on the relationship of mind, body, and nature.

  North Atlantic Books’ publications are available through most bookstores. For further information, visit our website at www.northatlanticbooks.com or call 800-733-3000.

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:

  Sturgeon, Theodore.

  Case and the dreamer / Theodore Sturgeon.

  p. cm. — (The complete stories of Theodore Sturgeon; v. 13)

  Summary: “The thirteenth volume from internationally renowned science fiction/fantasy/thriller author Theodore Sturgeon, containing stories published between 1972 and 1985”—Provided by publisher.

  1. Science fiction, American. I. Title.

  PS3569.T875A6 2010

  813’.54—dc22

  2010019205

  v3.1

  EDITOR’S NOTE

  Theodore Hamilton Sturgeon was born February 26, 1918, and died May 8, 1985. This is the thirteenth and last in a series that features all of his short fiction. The stories within the volumes are, with some exceptions, arranged chronologically by order of composition (insofar as that can be determined). With one exception (“Tuesdays are Worse,” 1960), this volume contains stories written between 1973 and 1983, the date of Sturgeon’s last published story. Three of the stories, “The Mysterium,” “Seasoning,” and “Black Moccasins,” are previously unpublished. This volume also contains a biographical essay written by Paul Williams, editor of The Complete Stories, and an index to all thirteen volumes.

  As this is the last volume of The Complete Stories of Theodore Sturgeon, it requires special acknowledgements. First and foremost, my deepest thanks to Paul Williams. To have all of Sturgeon’s stories published was Paul’s personal vision, and his gentle persistence, hard work, and encyclopedic knowledge of Sturgeon made it possible. He started this project in 1991, and stayed with it until Alzheimer’s from a brain injury made it impossible for him to continue. Though he could not contribute to this final volume, I would like to dedicate it to him. My attempt at replicating his excellent story notes is sure to fall short of his stellar example. Those who wish to give back to him for his lifetime of important work (for the science fiction community in particular) should visit www.paulwillams.com in order to help Paul and his family support his full-time care. Preparation of each of these volumes would not have been possible without the hard work and invaluable participation of Debbie Notkin (above and beyond the heartfelt foreword she contributed to this volume), and our publishers, Lindy Hough and Richard Grossinger. Thanks, Lindy and Richard, for keeping the faith. I would also like to thank those that originally supported the idea of this project and opened doors to make it happen: Robert Silverberg, David Hartwell, Samuel R. “Chip” Delany, Jonathan Lethem, and Harlan Ellison. Thanks to all those who contributed forewords or afterwords: Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, Samuel R. Delany, Gene Wolfe, Robert Silverberg, Robert Heinlein, James Gunn, Larry McCaffery, David Crosby, Kurt Vonnegut, Phil Klass (William Tenn), David G. Hartwell, Jonathan Lethem, Harlan Ellison, Connie Willis, Spider Robinson, Peter S. Beagle, and Debbie Notkin. Thanks also to James Gunn, Kij Johnson, and Chris McKitterick for their support for Sturgeon’s work.

  For their significant assistance in preparing this thirteenth volume, I would like to thank Jayne Williams, Debbie Notkin, Tina Krauss, Elizabeth Kennedy, Paula Morrison, Eric Weeks, William F. Seabrook, Charles Holloway, Tandy Sturgeon, Hart Sturgeon-Reed, T.V. Reed, Cindy Lee Berryhill, Chris Lotts of Ralph Vicinanza, Ltd., Vince Gerardis of CreatedBy, Bob Greene of Bookpeople in Moscow, and all of you who have expressed your support and interest.

  Noël Sturgeon

  Trustee, Theodore Sturgeon Literary Trust

  http://www.theodoresturgeontrust.com/

  BOOKS BY THEODORE STURGEON

  Without Sorcery (1948)

  The Dreaming Jewels [aka The Synthetic Man] (1950)

  More Than Human (1953)

  E Pluribus Unicorn (1953)

  Caviar (1955)

  A Way Home (1955)

  The King and Four Queens (1956)

  I, Libertine (1956)

  A Touch of Strange (1958)

  The Cosmic Rape [aka To Marry Medusa](1958)

  Aliens 4 (1959)

  Venus Plus X (1960)

  Beyond (1960)

  Some of Your Blood (1961)

  Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1961)

  The Player on the Other Side (1963)

  Sturgeon in Orbit (1964)

  Starshine (1966)

  The Rare Breed (1966)

  Sturgeon Is Alive and Well … (1971)

  The Worlds of Theodore Sturgeon (1972)

  Sturgeon’s West (with Don Ward) (1973)

  Case and the Dreamer (1974)

  Visions and Venturers (1978)

  Maturity (1979)

  The Stars Are the Styx (1979)

  The Golden Helix (1979)

  Alien Cargo (1984)

  Godbody (1986)

  A Touch of Sturgeon (1987)

  The [Widget], the [Wadget], and Boff (1989)

  Argyll (1993)

  Star Trek, The Joy Machine (with James Gunn) (1996)

  THE COMPLETE STORIES SERIES

  1. The Ultimate Egoist (1994)

  2. Microcosmic God (1995)

  3. Killdozer! (1996)

  4. Thunder and Roses (1997)

  5. The Perfect Host (1998)

  6. Baby Is Three (1999)

  7. A Saucer of Loneliness (2000)

  8. Bright Segment (2002)

  9. And Now the News … (2003)

  10. The Man Who Lost the Sea (2005)

  11. The Nail and the Oracle (2007)

  12. Slow Sculpture (2009)

  13. Case and the Dreamer (2010)

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Editor’s Note

  Other Books by This Author

  Foreword: Theodore Sturgeon and The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle

  Foreword: Lifelong Passion: Theodore Sturgeon’s Fiction, by Debbie Notkin

  Tuesdays are Worse

  Case and the Dreamer

  Agnes, Accent and Access

  Ingenious Aylmer

  The Sheriff of Chayute

  The Mysterium

  “I Love Maple Walnut”

  Blue Butter

  The Singsong of Cecily Snow

  Harry’s Note


  Time Warp

  The Country of Afterward

  Like Yesterday

  Why Dolphins Don’t Bite

  Vengeance Is.

  Seasoning

  Not an Affair

  Black Moccasins

  The Trick

  Grizzly

  Afterword: Theodore Sturgeon: Storyteller, by Paul Williams

  Story Notes, by Noël Sturgeon

  About the Author

  FOREWORD

  Theodore Sturgeon and The Last Unicorn

  Peter S. Beagle

  I honestly don’t know whether he ever read it or not. We met for the first time after The Last Unicorn was published, but if he ever spoke of it to me, I don’t remember at this remove. What I do know is that it almost didn’t get written because of him.

  There are certain books that I won’t ever write, because they’ve already been done. I’ve never been tempted, for instance, to try my hand at a pseudo-Tolkien high-fantasy, elves-and-Armageddon epic, because The Lord of the Rings was a one-shot deal, unique and inimitable, as those endless factory-produced trilogies keep proving. More recently, Barry Hughart’s Master Li novels put paid to my notion of writing a book based on a particular Chinese legend from the time of the three-quarters mythical Yellow Emperor; and Ariana Franklin’s Mistress of the Art of Death and The Serpent’s Tale completely did in my dream of setting a novel in twelfth-century England, featuring Henry II, my favorite king. Forget it. Absolutely no point to it. Damn.

  And then there’s “The Silken-Swift”….

  Oh, lord, “The Silken-Swift.” I read it in Fantasy & Science Fiction—the class of the field then, as now—in 1953, when I was fourteen years old. To this day, I can still quote sections of the story by heart, and I could quote a lot more when I was twenty-seven, taking my second shot at getting The Last Unicorn right. I was so intensely aware of that bloody classic of Ted’s, and trying so hard not to imitate it in any way, that I wouldn’t even use the word silken anywhere in my novel. In fact, I didn’t use it at all for the next thirty years, until the very last lines of my story “Professor Gottesman and the Indian Rhinoceros.” I was just as conscious of it then, but in a different way, as a sort of wave and wink to Ted—a joke between the two of us, though he was long gone by then. I liked the notion of sharing a joke with Theodore Sturgeon.

  I didn’t know him, not as my dear friends Edgar and Mary Pangborn knew him, in the old days in Bearsville, New York, or as did Betty and Ian Ballantine, who lived practically next door. I can only recall meeting him three times: first, through my playwright friend, Irv Bauer, who introduced us, then when I visited him and his family in Woodland Hills, in Southern California. On the third occasion, he stayed overnight with my family and me in Corralitos, and my memory is that we actually played a few tunes together on our guitars. I may have dates and circumstances wrong, but I’ve been immensely vain for more than thirty years about having jammed with Ted Sturgeon.

  I’ve admired his work for well over half a century, from his astonishing roll-call of short fiction (“Baby Is Three,” “Killdozer,” “Shottle Bop,” “Derm Fool,” “The [Widget], the [Wadget]. and Boff,” “Need,” “Bianca’s Hands,” “Yesterday Was Monday”) to his two legendary Star Trek scripts and his novel More Than Human, to Some of Your Blood, which even today remains one of the best vampire stories ever. It may be altogether unfair of me to say this, but at the time of Sturgeon’s appearance on the scene in the early 1940s, the vast majority of even the best science fiction was produced, with few exceptions, by writers with engineering backgrounds of one sort or another: far less interested in the humanity of their characters than in the rocketships they piloted and the gadgets they employed against their encounters with somewhat more sophisticated versions of Ming the Merciless. Ted dealt, over and over, with loneliness and pain, human cruelty and the sudden generosity of the human spirit, as no other writer of his milieu and time did. His was a unique heart, and it gave birth to a unique voice.

  Of those three brief times, I remember best our playing together. I remember a strong, notably clear rhythm (did he have a twelve-string guitar with him then?), and a particularly impish lead line, when we switched off, to match that swift, startling grin. I was deeply affected by what he did and who he was, and I’m grateful that I did get to meet him. I wish I’d known him properly.

  FOREWORD

  Lifelong Passion: Theodore Sturgeon’s Fiction

  Debbie Notkin

  At a small convention near San Francisco in the 1980s, the late Judith Merrill was reminiscing about Theodore Sturgeon. Paul Williams asked her what she thought of the story “Mr. Costello, Hero.” “Not one of the great ones,” Judy said with her characteristic certainty. “I know because I don’t remember it.”

  That metric doesn’t work for me. I don’t remember all of them, but then they come back in sharp relief if I open a book to one, or someone talks about it.

  I can’t write about Theodore Sturgeon without writing about myself. The fiction of Theodore Sturgeon is a lifelong passion of mine. “Lifelong passion” may sound like a phrase from a teenage vampire novel, or perhaps a 1940s romantic movie. For me, this one has been more like a term used by a hermit living in the library stacks.

  I was probably eleven when my father gave me my first adult science fiction story (by Isaac Asimov). I was probably twelve when I learned that the books on Dad’s shelves that said “edited by Groff Conklin,” usually had a story by Theodore Sturgeon in them, and that I could read that story from each book before I went back and read anything else. The same heuristic applied to the library. That would have been in 1962 or 1963; science fiction was still far closer to the pulp magazines than to the college classroom.

  I didn’t buy many books until I was out on my own. I remember buying Sturgeon Is Alive and Well in paperback, from the college bookstore. New stories, when I thought I had found them all!

  It’s a vicious rumor that the reason I was partners with Tom Whitmore for fifteen years was that he would find me uncollected Sturgeon stories. Well, okay, it’s a vicious rumor that that was the only reason. Tom knew that checking crumbling magazines and obscure anthologies for Sturgeon stories was a way to my heart. He was good enough at it that by the time Bill Contento created the first comprehensive index to science fiction stories, there really wasn’t very much published Sturgeon I hadn’t read. (I believed that until this series started to appear, and Paul Williams and others dug up the really obscure early and unpublished pieces.)

  I met the man himself a few times; I was an easy target for his legendary charm, but we never spent more than a few minutes in each other’s company. I have the obligatory signed book with the “ask the next question” glyph that he was so fond of. I have a clear memory of his piercing blue eyes, and the way he flirted with me by saying sweet things about booksellers—which was what I was doing at the time.

  What interests me now about my forty-plus-year love affair with Sturgeon’s fiction is: What drew me in? What led a twelve-year-old girl with an extensive bookshelf at her fingertips to focus in on Sturgeon? I can remember the frisson of pleasure looking at a contents page, but I genuinely can’t recall why those were the stories I wanted to read. All I can do is make guesses.

  First, the man could write. I was far too young to recognize specific stylistic tricks, but I imagine that I realized even then that his sentences, paragraphs, and stories were smoother, and more interesting, than most of the other men (and I use that word intentionally) whose stories I was reading.

  Second, he liked and was interested in people. I grew up in a people-focused household, lots of guests, lots of international guests, conversation, interaction. Sturgeon was often writing about the kinds of people I hadn’t met or didn’t know, which was a plus. More important, I think, is that the people in his stories seemed real: complicated, imperfect, confused. I was confused; maybe I was looking for stories about other confused people, not the single-minded, confident heroes I found in mos
t other stories of the time.

  Third, he wrote about women. As a feminist adult, I certainly have reservations about how Sturgeon wrote female characters. When I give his stories to women who didn’t grow up with them, my friends often say quizzically, “You like the women in those stories?” But all I knew then was that there were women in those stories: Arthur C. Clarke had no women; Asimov’s were way off the norm in one way or another; Heinlein’s were … well, entire books have been written about that. Sturgeon’s women were beautiful and smart, and they actually got to do things. Some of them were even scientists! That was enough for me then; a hell of a lot more than I was finding in most of what I read.

  I can’t resist giving you a short list of favorites that aren’t in this volume: “Bright Segment” shook me up for weeks, and has informed everything I think about how and why humans abuse each other; “Thunder and Roses” might just be the best anti-war story ever written (though Kim Stanley Robinson’s “The Lucky Strike” is up there with it); “Bulkhead” and “The Other Man” both say important things about who we share our own skulls with; “Die, Maestro, Die!” is a chilling mainstream story set in the big-band jazz era. I think Judy Merrill was wrong about “Mr. Costello, Hero,” which Paul and I both consider to be one of the best stories ever written about the lust for power. All of these can be found in previous volumes in this series (see the index in the back of the book to learn which stories are in which volumes).

  Then there’s this book. I don’t think of this as Sturgeon’s finest period—few Sturgeon aficionados do—but still …

  “Case and the Dreamer,” “Why Dolphins Don’t Bite,” “Blue Butter,” and “Not an Affair” are all the kind of stories I was combing early Groff Conklin anthologies for: single stories good enough to warrant buying the whole book, even if there’s nothing else there. And even the smallest, most trivial stories (and this volume has some) have those well-written sentences, those developed characters, those small memorable moments. Sturgeon’s oeuvre ranged from good to great, and if there’s one thing this series proves, it’s that even the “only good” stories are worth reading.