Out of Phaze Read Online Free PDF

snakeman hissed, his head lifting above the water. Beyond him, other heads appeared in the water.
    Mach realized why the pigheads had stopped their pursuit. Their territory ended where that of the snake-folk began.
    He looked back, but saw the pigheads still clustered at the edge of the swamp. He would have to proceed forward.
    “I’m going!” he said, and sloshed along the path. He had to slide his bare feet forward under the water to make sure the firm path continued, lest he get dunked again. He wasn’t sure what the snakes would do to him if they caught him, but didn’t care to find out.
    Fortunately there was no pursuit. As he moved he continued to ponder. If this was not the kind of situation his robot brain would or could have created, how could he account for his dream? The answer was that he could not. But the alternative was to assume that it was not a dream. That suggested that it was reality.
    Had he really been transported to the land he had sought, Phaze? By switching places with his twin? Of course a physical exchange could not have occurred. But a mental one—that did seem plausible. His consciousness was in the body of his twin—and his twin’s consciousness must be in Mach’s own body.
    Mach’s lips pursed in a soundless whistle. This thesis was reasonable—but what would a human person do in the body of a machine?
    The path led to an island rising out of the swamp. Relieved, Mach sloshed toward it—and stepped off the path again, taking another messy dunking. The path curved about, as it had on land, and he had to check for it constantly.
    He drew himself out of the muck, then proceeded to the island. It was thickly overgrown with reeds and brush and small trees, but the path was clear. This was certainly better than the water.
    Mach rounded a bend—and came across a worse monster than before. It was a man—with the head of a giant roach. The antennae waved and the complicated insectoid mouth-parts quivered. The thing looked hungry.
    Mach backed away—but another roach-head came onto the path behind him. He was trapped.
    Well, not quite. He leaped into the brush to the side. Too late he discovered that it was solid brambles; the thorns raked along his legs and torso stingingly. Yet the roach-heads were blocking the path, their ugly mandibles working. He had not been programmed to abhor roaches; indeed, they did not exist in the natural state in the frame of Proton. But his living body evidently loathed the notion of contact with such creatures, and certainly he didn’t want those mandibles chewing into his tender flesh.
    Trapped between unacceptable alternatives, Mach let his body govern. His head went back and he screamed. “Heeelp!”
    There was a distant sound of music. Then an approaching beat. It sounded as if a horse were approaching.
    Mach screamed again. He knew how to ride a horse; that was one of the Game challenges. If the creature were tame, or even if it weren’t—if he could somehow get on it—but of course it was tame, for he heard the music of the rider.
    In a very brief time the beat became splashing. The horse was charging through the water. Maybe there was a patrol whose duty was to come to the aid of distressed travelers. Mach called again, making sure the rider could find him.
    Now it thundered onto the island, the music of its rider becoming loud. It sounded as though a flute were playing, or several of them. The roach-heads abruptly scuttled into the brush, apparently not bothered by the brambles.
    “Here!” Mach cried.
    The horse came into sight.
    It bore no rider. It was glossy black, with golden socklike coloration on the two hind legs. From the forehead sprouted a long spiraled horn.
    This was a unicorn.
    Mach was beyond caring at this point. “I beg you, beautiful creature—carry me from here!” he called.
    The unicorn stopped. It was a mare, not large for a horse, but in fit condition. Her head turned toward Mach. She sounded a double note of query.
    The