Isaac Asimov's Worlds of Fantasy. Book 6: Mythical Beasties

by Edward D. Hoch

Let me tell you. there was a time not so long ago when a centaur would have been kept in a zoo or a circus. He certainly wouldn't have been allowed to play major league baseball. But times have changed, and we're more tolerant of people who are different. I suppose that's why Mark Eques ended up playing baseball for the New York Yankees.

But I'd better tell it from the beginning.

The idea of centaurs-creatures having the head, trunk and arms of a man and the body and legs of a horse-had been around since Ovid's Metamorphoses and Homer's lliad. It was Lucretius who declared that the creature must be mythical because horses reach maturity before humans, and are full-grown at three years of age. The horse would die fifty years before the man. All mis is true enough, but when Professor Hagger of Columbia University returned from me Greek island of Antikythira with a young living centaur early in the 22nd century, a great many preconceptions changed.

Like most everyone else in America, I'd equated centaurs with unicorns and other mythical beasts. Seeing one live on the evening news took some getting used to. Hagger christened the young creature Mark Eques, and set about educating him. It was quite a story for a month or two, during the slow news days of summer, but by fall Professor Hagger and his discovery had faded from view. Mark Eques was living on a farm in upstate New York, staying pretty much out of the public eye. A few years passed before we heard about him again, and this time it was an announcement by Professor Hagger that Mark was about to enter Columbia University, having passed the traditional college entrance examinations. He was even entitled to special consideration by the university, since the government had ruled that Mark was a handicapped human being and not any sort of monster.

Mark found college to be difficult, and by me end of his first year it appeared he was ready to drop out. That was when Roscoe Greene, a scout for the New York Yankees baseball team, contacted Mark, and when I had my first meeting with the boy centaur.

I was a sportswriter on a Boston paper at the time, and I became interested in Mark when he attempted to run in the Boston marathon, They couldn't officially bar him from it, but they did me next best thing. They set up a special category for centaurs. Since he was the only known centaur on earth, he had no one to compete against but himself. There was no point in running at all, and on Patriots' Day he didn't even bother to appear.

But baseball was a different story.

Mark Eques had been ruled a handicapped person, and under federal regulations in those early years of the 22nd century, handicapped persons were allowed to play professional sports, so long as their handicap did not prevent them from performing their duties. I had to hand it to Roscoe Greene for coming up with that one.

An old girl friend in the Yankee front office tipped me off to what was happening, and I drove all night to reach the Dutchess County farm where Mark was living with Professor Hagger after completing his first year at Columbia. It was horse country, with the roads bordered on either side by neat white fences that extended back over the rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

As I pulled into the Hagger farm shortly after nine in the morning I saw that Roscoe Greene had arrived first. He stood at the fence speaking with Mark Eques. When he saw me he cursed, not too softly. "What in hell are you doing here, Danny? Go back to Boston where you belong!"

"Hello, Roscoe. Glad to see you too. Is it true the Yankees are about to sign Mark here to a position in center field?'* Mark Eques, his hairy chest bare to the morning sun, grinned boyishly and pawed the grass with his front hoof.

"I'm gonna play in the big leagues," he announced proudly.

"What does Hagger say about all this?" I wanted to know.

"Why don't you ask him?" Greene answered smugly.

Professor Hagger must have observed my arrival, because he came out of the farmhouse to join us. When Greene introduced me. he said, "So the press is onto this already!

You don't waste any time."

"Danny's a go-getter." Green confirmed. "One of these days he'll cover a story before it happens."

"Has he ever played ball?" 1 asked the professor. "Is he any good at it?"

"His family apparently played a version of baseball,'* Hagger responded. "He remembers it as a child."

"I'm good," Mark Eques answered for himself. "They wouldn't let me run in the marathon but they can't stop me now."

"He has tremendous speed in the outfield," Professor Hagger confirmed. "Virtually nothing gets by him. His baserunning is superb too. We're still working on his hitting."

"What do you think, Roscoe?" I asked Greene.

"I think he has unlimited potential. Young, clean-cut- people will flock to the games just to see him play."

"The other managers will never allow it," I predicted.

"We've already got the courts behind us. Let the other clubs go out and hire their own centaur."

Mine was the first exclusive interview with Mark Eques on his signing with the Yankees, and for a week or two it wa§ quite a story. The other major league clubs grumbled, of course, until New York agreed to share with them the additional revenues Mark's appearance was expected to generate.

So, after a month of hoopla and further training, the centaur took the field for a July 4th doubleheader against the Boston Red Sox. I was there, of course, covering Boston on the road as I usually did, but so was just about every sportswriter in the country, along with all the TV and satellite people. It's a wonder there was any space left in the Yankees' new domed stadium for just plain fans.

Mark Eques galloped onto the field wearing his Yankee shirt and the crowd went wild. He removed his hat while the National Anthem was played, and then continued on into center field. The first inning was a disappointment for the fans and television cameras, with not a single ball making it out of the infield. But in the top of the second Mark showed his stuff, charging across center field to nab a well-hit grounder and peg it to first base for the out. The crowd went wild for the second time.

He could hit too. He ended the day's doubleheader with two doubles and a single, which wasn't bad. The Yankees won the first game 5-3, and only dropped the nightcap 2-1 as a result of a ninth-inning Boston homer. Even a centaur in the outfield couldn't protect against home runs.

The following week's games showed that his biggest strengths were in fielding and baserunning. Once he got the hang of it, Mark proved a whiz at stolen bases. The sight of him galloping into second at a full charge was enough to intimidate most any second baseman in the league. By the end of July, the Yankees had climbed into a tie with Boston for first place in the American League East.

That was when I was approached by Lippy Lewis.

Lippy was a gambler who specialized in sports betting of any kind. He'd bet big money on Boston as an early-season favorite to take both the pennant and the World Series, and he wasn't about to lose it. "Tell me something, Danny," he said one afternoon in August after the Yankees had extended a midseason winning streak to seven games. "Do you think that Eques guy could be bought off?"

"Lippy, you always did have a big mouth," I told him. "I guess that's how you got your name. Do you want me to run what you just said in tomorrow's edition? I could probably even get your picture in. What were you thinking of offering him-oats?"

Lippy shrugged. "Money. Women. He must have some weakness."

"Stay away from him, Lippy, or I will print that."

"Hell, you're a Boston guy! The Sox are your meal ticket too."

"Mark Eques is my meal ticket this year. He's the greatest thing that's happened to baseball in two decades. Stay away from him, Lippy, or you'll be in big trouble."

But 1 knew Lippy Lewis would do as he pleased, and I wasn't surprised the following week to see him chatting with Mark after a game, standing by the horse trailer that Professor Hagger used to make the run to and from his farm. The trailer was even used for games on the road. though it had to be transported by air between distant cities. I stood off to one side, waiting until Lippy departed, and then strolled up to Mark.

"Lippy's got a bad reputation," I said casually. "You shouldn't be seen talking to him too much."

"That guy? He doesn't bother me. He offered me money and girls to miss a few fly balls." Mark seemed to find the idea amusing.

"What did you say?"

"I told him I had enough money. As for girls, it's wrong to mate outside your species. Professor Hagger taught me that."

"But there are no female centaurs, are there?"

"Oh sure," he replied offhandedly. "They're just shy, that's all. They live in the caves and the mazes and no one ever sees them."

"I thought mazes were for Minotaurs."

Mark looked disgusted. "No one believes in them anymore."

Professor Hagger always attended the games, of course, transporting Mark back and forth in the trailer. 1 caught up with him at the next home appearance, with the Yankees now firmly in first place. "Has there been any more trouble with Lippy Lewis?" I asked.

Hagger looked surprised. "We haven't had any trouble with Lippy that I know about."

"I think he tried to bribe Mark to relax a bit. There's big money riding on the pennant and the World Series,"

"Mark wouldn't take a bribe."

"I'm sure he wouldn't. But if you have any trouble with Lippy, let me know. A few mentions in my column would cool him off.''

Hagger nodded. "We appreciate everything you've done for Mark already. Some of the press still treat him like a freak. Your stories make him seem like a human being."

"I've always considered Mark to be a human being."

Hagger smiled slightly. "Well, he's still a centaur. Nothing can change that.''

Mark Eques hit two home runs in that evening's game, and ran the bases like a stallion. His fielding was better than ever-so good, in fact, that the opposing manager raised the point in a post-game press conference that Mark should be banned from organized baseball. "He's not human, after all," Bunty Simmons grumbled.

I fought my way through the throng to the front row of questioners. "Back in July you alt went along with it," I reminded him. "The gates would increase and everyone would share in the wealth."

"Well. sure," he admitted. "We knew people would pay to see a centaur playing ball. What we didn't know was-"

"-that he'd be so good," I finished for him.

Through all of this, Roscoe Greene, the scout who'd first signed Mark with the Yankees, was riding high. I heard through the grapevine that he'd gotten a big raise, with a bonus promised if Mark Eques came through strong in the World Series. Greene and I had never really been friends, and I was surprised when he phoned me in Boston the day the Yankees clinched the pennant in the American League East.

"Have you heard the news?" he asked without preamble.

"About what?"

"Mark Eques."

The panic in his voice was catching. "He's not hurt?"

"Worse than that."

"What-?"

"It just came over the radio. An expedition on that Greek island has discovered a female centaur!"

"Then he wasn't kidding me. He said there were females.

That's great news, Roscoe."

"It's terrible news."

"How come?"

"The expedition is financed by Lewis Enterprises, the video people. In case you didn't know, that's Lippy Lewis's brother.'' "My God!"

"I know Lippy's been trying to bribe Mark. Now he's got his weapon. Mark may not be tempted by regular women, but a female centaur is something else again!"

Well, this latest development really stirred up the press.

About the only thing they like better than a bribery scandal is a sex scandal. Although the whereabouts of the newly discovered female centaur was a carefully guarded secret, the papers were full of rumors of a secret tryst with Mark Eques. I phoned Professor Hagger nearly every day in late September, but he assured me there'd been no word from Lippy and no sign of a female centaur.

I spoke with Mark too, of course. The playoffs began in early October, and 1 covered all the games. The Yankees made short work of the Las Vegas Wheels, capturing four straight behind some good pitching and Mark's fleet-footed fielding. There was a general feeling that the only team to present a real challenge to the Yankees might be the St. Louis Cardinals, and when the Cards clinched the National League pennant to move on to the World Series, there was talk of the greatest Series since*75.

I interviewed Mark Eques on the eve of the first game at St. Louis. "What about it. Mark?" I asked. "You seem a little bit troubled and off your feed. Has Lippy Lewis been after you again?"

"Yeah," the young centaur admitted. "He talked to me."

"About the newly discovered female?"

Mark nodded. "He showed me pictures."

"And asked you to throw the game?"

"Either mat or not play at all."

"You were tempted?"

"By the pictures? No."

"Why not?"

"She's my sister, Carza."

"Your-"

"I told you there were females down in the caves. Carza was never as shy as the rest. I should have known she'd be the one to come outside and get caught."

"If she's your sister, I'd think you'd be happy at the prospect of seeing her again. Why are you so glum?"

"I guess because I don't know what Lippy wili try next.

There's something about Carza they might discover-"

"What's that?"

Mark Eques hung his shoulders. "She's a better ball player than 1 am."

We learned the following day that Lewis and his people had indeed discovered it. Carza took the field wearing a Cardinals shirt and started warming up with the rest of the team.

She was a lovely young woman, frisky and smiling, and she captured the hearts of almost everyone at once. The Yankee owners were not quite so enchanted, and they could be seen huddling with the baseball commissioner in his box. Certainly no one could object to a centaur playing baseball, nor to a woman, since Iris Schultz had pitched a full season for the Dodgers. But this was a new player, joining the team just in time for the Series!

The game was delayed an hour while they argued the point, disrupting television schedules around the world, but the commissioner finally ruled that she could play. The teams took the field- It would be centaur against centaur.

For the first few innings the crowd went wild each time Mark or his sister took the field. But it soon became obvious that each of them was so skilled in playing the outfield that nothing less than a home run would make it onto the scoreboard that day. Mark was the better hitter, probably because he'd been playing since July, but he only succeeded in hitting two high flies that Carza caught without any trouble. The crowd wanted hits, but all they were getting was a demonstration of some remarkable fielding.

As the ninth inning ended in a scoreless tie I spotted Lippy Lewis at a refreshment stand by the back of the stadium.

"How's it going, Lippy? I see you switched your allegiance from the Sox to the Cards."

"You gotta go with the smart money, Danny," he said, squeezing some mustard onto a hot dog.

"The smart money used to say you should never bet against the Yankees."

"Yeah? Well, we got our own centaur now."

The tenth inning had begun while we chatted, and suddenly there came a groan of anguish from the St. Louis fans. Lippy and I hurried to see what had happened, and 1 think we were equally horrified to see Carza tying on the field in obvious pain. She'd tripped while chasing a hard-hit grounder to center, and the ball had rolled ail the way to the outfield fence for a triple.

Mark hurried to her side as she was carried off the field.

"Marque," she murmured. "Take me home. I want to go home."

"Will they have to shoot her?" Lippy asked me.

"No. She's not a horse."

The Yankees won it, 1-0, and went on to win the Series, but that was the last game Mark Eques and his sister played.

Professor Hagger accompanied them back to the Greek island where he'd first found Mark. During their winter meeting the baseball managers voted to bar any players having more than two legs, whatever their species. The day of the centaur was over, as quickly as it had begun, It was sort of a sad ending to the story, and that was one reason I decided to fly over to Antikythira the following spring, to see how Mark and his sister were doing. I feared I'd have difficulty finding them, imagining that they'd retreated deep into their caves after their brush with fame, but 1 was wrong. Mark was running a messenger service-a sort of Centaur Express-and Carza had fully recovered from her injury.

"She's too old for the game," Mark explained. "I remember her playing ball when I was only a child."

"Will you ever play again?" I asked.

"Not in America. I heard they'd banned centaurs. But Carza and i arc talking about starting a league over here. An all-centaur league. We think there are enough good players, and it would make a great tourist attraction. We hope to get started by next year."

When I told Lippy Lewis about it, back in the States, he was interested. "Might be some betting action there," he decided, "once they get organized. But I'm sorry he didn't stay in this country and let me handle him."

"There are no more centaurs in baseball, Lippy," I reminded him.

"Who's talking baseball? I wanted to run him in the Kentucky Derby!"