Roger Zelazny - The Great Slow Kings

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Roger Zelazny. The Great Slow Kings

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Drax and Dran sat in the great Throne Hall of Glan, discussing life.

Monarchs by virtue of superior intellect and physique--and the fact that

they were the last two survivors of the race of Glan--theirs was a divided

rule over the planet and their one subject, Zindrome, the palace robot.

Drax had been musing for the past four centuries (theirs was a sluggish

sort) over the possibility of life on other planets in the galaxy.

Accordingly, "Dran," said he, addressing the other (who was becoming

mildly curious as to his thoughts), "Dran, I've been thinking. There may be

life on other planets in the galaxy."

Dran considered his response to this, as the world wheeled several

times about its sun.

"True," he finally agreed, "there may."

After several months Drax shot back, "If there is, we ought to find

out."

"Why?" asked Dran with equal promptness, which caused the other to

suspect that he, too, had been thinking along these lines.

So he measured his next statement out cautiously, first testing each

word within the plated retort of his reptilian skull.

"Our kingdom is rather underpopulated at present," he observed. "It

would be good to have many subjects once more."

Dran regarded him askance, then slowly turned his head. He closed one

eye and half-closed the other, taking full stock of his co-ruler, whose

appearance, as he had suspected, was unchanged since the last time he had

looked.

"That, also, is true," he noted. "What do you suggest we do?"

This time Drax turned, reappraising him, eye to eye.

I think we ought to find out if there is life on other planets in the

galaxy."

"Hmm."

Two quick rounds of the seasons went unnoticed, then, "Let me think

about it," he said, and turned away.

After what he deemed a polite period of time, Drax coughed.

"Have you thought sufficiently?"

"No."

Drax struggled to focus his eyes on the near-subliminal streak of

bluish light which traversed, re-traversed and re-re-traversed the Hall as

he waited.

"Zindrome!" he finally called out.

The robot slowed his movements to a statue-like immobility to

accommodate his master. A feather duster protruded from his right limb.

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Roger Zelazny - The Great Slow Kings

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