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Title: The Big Trip Up Yonder

Author: Kurt Vonnegut

Illustrator: Kossin

Release Date: October 13, 2009 [EBook #30240]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

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THE BIG TRIP

UP YONDER

By KURT VONNEGUT, JR.

Illustrated by KOSSIN

If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it ... it ismuch too good for anyone else!

Gramps Ford, his chinresting on his hands, hishands on the crook of hiscane, was staring irascibly at thefive-foot television screen thatdominated the room. On thescreen, a news commentator wassummarizing the day's happenings.Every thirty seconds or so,Gramps would jab the floor withhis cane-tip and shout, "Hell, wedid that a hundred years ago!"

Emerald and Lou, coming infrom the balcony, where they hadbeen seeking that 2185 A.D. rarityprivacywereobliged to takeseats in the back row, behindLou's father and mother, brotherand sister-in-law, son and daughter-in-law,grandson and wife,granddaughter and husband,great-grandson and wife, nephewand wife, grandnephew and wife,great-grandniece and husband,great-grandnephew and wifeand,of course, Gramps, who wasin front of everybody. All saveGramps, who was somewhatwithered and bent, seemed, bypre-anti-gerasone standards, tobe about the same agesomewherein their late twenties orearly thirties. Gramps looked olderbecause he had already reached70 when anti-gerasone was invented.He had not aged in the102 years since.

"Meanwhile," the commentatorwas saying, "Council Bluffs,Iowa, was still threatened bystark tragedy. But 200 wearyrescue workers have refused togive up hope, and continue todig in an effort to save ElbertHaggedorn, 183, who has beenwedged for two days in a ..."

"I wish he'd get somethingmore cheerful," Emerald whisperedto Lou.

"Silence!" cried Gramps."Next one shoots off his bigbazoo while the TV's on is gonnafind hisself cut off without a dollar"his voice suddenly softenedand sweetened"when theywave that checkered flag at theIndianapolis Speedway, and oldGramps gets ready for the BigTrip Up Yonder."

He sniffed sentimentally, whilehis heirs concentrated desperatelyon not making the slightestsound. For them, the poignancyof the prospective Big Trip hadbeen dulled somewhat, throughhaving been mentioned byGramps about once a day forfifty years.

"Dr. Brainard Keyes Bullard,"continued the commentator,"President of Wyandotte College,said in an address tonight thatmost of the world's ills can betraced to the fact that Man'sknowledge of himself has notkept pace with his knowledge ofthe physical world."

"Hell!" snorted Gramps. "Wesaid that a hundred years ago!"

"In Chicago tonight," the commentatorwent on, "a specialcelebration is taking place in theChicago Lying-in Hospital. Theguest of honor is Lowell W. Hitz,age zero. Hitz, born this morning,is the twenty-five-millionth childto be born in the hospital." Thecommentator faded, and was replacedon the screen by youngHitz, who squalled furiously.

"Hell!" whispered Lou toEmerald. "We said that a hundredyears ago."

"I heard that!" shoutedGramps. He snapped off the televisionset and his petrified descendantsstared silently at thescreen. "You, there, boy"

"I didn't mean anything by it,sir," said Lou, aged 103.

"Get me my will. You knowwhere it is. You kids all knowwhere it is. Fetch, boy!" Grampssnapped his gnarled fingerssharply.

Lou nodded dully and foundhimself going down the hall,picking his way over bedding toGramps' room, the only privateroom in the Ford apartment.The other rooms were the bathroom,the living room and thewide windowless hallway, whichwas originally intended to serveas a dining area, and which hada kitchenette in one end. Sixmattresses and four sleeping bagswere dispersed in the hallway andliving room, and the daybed, inthe living room, accommodatedthe eleventh couple, the favoritesof the moment.

On Gramps' bureau was hiswill, smeared, dog-eared, perforatedand blotched with hundredsof additions, deletions, accusations,conditions, warnings,advice and homely philosophy.The document was, Lou reflected,a fifty-year diary, all jammedonto two sheetsa garbled, illegiblelog of day after day ofstrife. This day, Lou would bedisinherited for the eleventh time,and it would take him perhaps sixmonths of impeccable behaviorto regain the promise of a sharein the estate. To say nothing ofthe daybed in the living room forEm and himself.

"Boy!" called Gramps.

"Coming, sir." Lou hurriedback into the living room andhanded Gramps the will.

"Pen!" said Gramps.

He was instantly offered elevenpens, one from each couple.

"Not that leaky thing," he said,brushing Lou's pen aside. "Ah,there's a nice one. Good boy,Willy." He accepted Willy's pen.That was the tip they had allbeen waiting for. Willy, thenLou'sfatherwas the new favorite.

Willy, who looked almost asyoung as Lou, though he was 142,did a poor job of concealing hispleasure. He glanced shyly at thedaybed, which would become his,and from which Lou and Emeraldwould have to move backinto the hall, back to the worstspot of all by the bathroom door.

Gramps missed none of thehigh drama he had authored andhe gave his own familiar roleeverything he had. Frowning andrunning his finger along each line,as though he were seeing thewill for the first time, he readaloud in a deep portentous monotone,like a bass note on a cathedralorgan.

"I, Harold D. Ford, residingin Building 257 of Alden Village,New York City, Connecticut, dohereby make, publish and declarethis to be my last Will and Testament,revoking any and all formerwills and codicils by me atany time heretofore made." Heblew his nose importantly andwent on, not missing a word, andrepeating many for emphasisrepeatingin particular his ever-more-elaboratespecifications fora funeral.

At the end of these specifications,Gramps was so chokedwith emotion that Lou thoughthe might have forgotten why he'dbrought out the will in the firstplace. But Gramps heroicallybrought his powerful emotionsunder control and, after erasingfor a full minute, began to writeand speak at the same time. Loucould have spoken his lines forhim, he had heard them so often.

"I have had many heartbreaksere leaving this vale of tears fora better land," Gramps said andwrote. "But the deepest hurt ofall has been dealt me by" Helooked around the group, tryingto remember who the malefactorwas.

Everyone looked helpfully atLou, who held up his hand resignedly.

Gramps nodded, remembering,and completed the sentence"mygreat-grandson, Louis J. Ford."

"Grandson, sir," said Lou.

"Don't quibble. You're in deepenough now, young man," saidGramps, but he made the change.And, from there, he went withouta misstep through the phrasing ofthe disinheritance, causes forwhich were disrespectfulness andquibbling.

In the paragraph following, theparagraph that had belongedto everyone in the room at onetime or another, Lou's name wasscratched out and Willy's substitutedas heir to the apartmentand, the biggest plum of all, thedouble bed in the private bedroom.

"So!" said Gramps, beaming.He erased the date at the foot ofthe will and substituted a newone, including the time of day."Welltime to watch the McGarveyFamily." The McGarveyFamily was a television serialthat Gramps had been followingsince he was 60, or for a total of112 years. "I can't wait to seewhat's going to happen next,"he said.

Lou detached himself from thegroup and lay down on his bedof pain by the bathroom door.Wishing Em would join him, hewondered where she was.

He dozed for a few moments,until he was disturbed by someonestepping over him to get intothe bathroom. A moment later, heheard a faint gurgling sound, asthough something were beingpoured down the washbasindrain. Suddenly, it entered hismind that Em had cracked up,that she was in there doing somethingdrastic about Gramps.

"Em?" he whispered throughthe panel. There was no reply,and Lou pressed against the door.The worn lock, whose bolt barelyengaged its socket, held for asecond, then let the door swinginward.

"Morty!" gasped Lou.

Lou's great-grandnephew, Mortimer,who had just married andbrought his wife home to theFord menage, looked at Lou withconsternation and surprise. Mortykicked the door shut, but not beforeLou had glimpsed what wasin his handGramps' enormouseconomy-size bottle of anti-gerasone,which had apparentlybeen half-emptied, and whichMorty was refilling with tapwater.

A moment later, Morty cameout, glared defiantly at Lou andbrushed past him wordlessly torejoin his pretty bride.

Shocked, Lou didn't knowwhat to do. He couldn't letGramps take the mousetrappedanti-gerasonebut, if he warnedGramps about it, Gramps wouldcertainly make life in the apartment,which was merely insufferablenow, harrowing.

Lou glanced into the livingroom and saw that the Fords,Emerald among them, were momentarilyat rest, relishing thebotches that the McGarveys hadmade of their lives. Stealthily, hewent into the bathroom, lockedthe door as well as he couldand began to pour the contentsof Gramps' bottle down the drain.He was going to refill it withfull-strength anti-gerasone fromthe 22 smaller bottles on theshelf.

The bottle contained a half-gallon,and its neck was small,so it seemed to Lou that theemptying would take forever.And the almost imperceptiblesmell of anti-gerasone, likeWorcestershire sauce, now seemedto Lou, in his nervousness, to bepouring out into the rest of theapartment, through the keyholeand under the door.

The bottle gurgled monotonously.Suddenly, up came thesound of music from the livingroom and there were murmursand the scraping of chair-legs onthe floor. "Thus ends," said thetelevision announcer, "the 29,121stchapter in the life of yourneighbors and mine, the McGarveys."Footsteps were comingdown the hall. There was a knockon the bathroom door.

"Just a sec," Lou cheerily calledout. Desperately, he shook thebig bottle, trying to speed upthe flow. His palms slipped onthe wet glass, and the heavybottle smashed on the tile floor.

The door was pushed open,and Gramps, dumbfounded, staredat the incriminating mess.

Lou felt a hideous pricklingsensation on his scalp and theback of his neck. He grinnedengagingly through his nauseaand, for want of anything remotelyresembling a thought,waited for Gramps to speak.

"Well, boy," said Gramps atlast, "looks like you've got alittle tidying up to do."

And that was all he said. Heturned around, elbowed his waythrough the crowd and lockedhimself in his bedroom.

The Fords contemplated Louin incredulous silence a momentlonger, and then hurried back tothe living room, as though someof his horrible guilt would taintthem, too, if they looked toolong. Morty stayed behind longenough to give Lou a quizzical,annoyed glance. Then he alsowent into the living room, leavingonly Emerald standing in thedoorway.

Tears streamed over hercheeks. "Oh, you poor lambpleasedon't look so awful! Itwas my fault. I put you up tothis with my nagging aboutGramps."

"No," said Lou, finding hisvoice, "really you didn't. Honest,Em, I was just"

"You don't have to explainanything to me, hon. I'm on yourside, no matter what." She kissedhim on one cheek and whisperedin his ear, "It wouldn't have beenmurder, hon. It wouldn't havekilled him. It wasn't such a terriblething to do. It just wouldhave fixed him up so he'd beable to go any time God decidedHe wanted him."

"What's going to happen next,Em?" said Lou hollowly. "What'she going to do?"

Lou and Emerald stayed fearfullyawake almost all night,waiting to see what Gramps wasgoing to do. But not a soundcame from the sacred bedroom.Two hours before dawn, theyfinally dropped off to sleep.

At six o'clock, they arose again,for it was time for their generationto eat breakfast in the kitchenette.No one spoke to them.They had twenty minutes inwhich to eat, but their reflexeswere so dulled by the bad nightthat they had hardly swallowedtwo mouthfuls of egg-type processedseaweed before it was timeto surrender their places to theirson's generation.

Then, as was the custom forwhoever had been most recentlydisinherited, they began preparingGramps' breakfast, whichwould presently be served to himin bed, on a tray. They tried tobe cheerful about it. The toughestpart of the job was havingto handle the honest-to-God eggsand bacon and oleomargarine,on which Gramps spent so muchof the income from his fortune.

"Well," said Emerald, "I'm notgoing to get all panicky until I'msure there's something to be panickyabout."

"Maybe he doesn't know whatit was I busted," Lou said hopefully.

"Probably thinks it was yourwatch crystal," offered Eddie,their son, who was toying apatheticallywith his buckwheat-typeprocessed sawdust cakes.

"Don't get sarcastic with yourfather," said Em, "and don't talkwith your mouth full, either."

"I'd like to see anybody takea mouthful of this stuff and notsay something," complained Eddie,who was 73. He glanced atthe clock. "It's time to takeGramps his breakfast, youknow."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" said Louweakly. He shrugged. "Let's havethe tray, Em."

"We'll both go."

Walking slowly, smiling bravely,they found a large semi-circleof long-faced Fords standingaround the bedroom door.

Em knocked. "Gramps," shecalled brightly, "break-fast isrea-dy."

There was no reply and sheknocked again, harder.

The door swung open beforeher fist. In the middle of theroom, the soft, deep, wide, canopiedbed, the symbol of the sweetby-and-by to every Ford, wasempty.

A sense of death, as unfamiliarto the Fords as Zoroastrianism orthe causes of the Sepoy Mutiny,stilled every voice, slowed everyheart. Awed, the heirs began tosearch gingerly, under the furnitureand behind the drapes, forall that was mortal of Gramps,father of the clan.

But Gramps had left not hisEarthly husk but a note,which Lou finally found on thedresser, under a paperweightwhich was a treasured souvenirfrom the World's Fair of 2000.Unsteadily, Lou read it aloud:

"'Somebody who I have shelteredand protected and taughtthe best I know how all theseyears last night turned on melike a mad dog and diluted myanti-gerasone, or tried to. I am nolonger a young man. I can nolonger bear the crushing burdenof life as I once could. So, afterlast night's bitter experience, Isay good-by. The cares of thisworld will soon drop away likea cloak of thorns and I shallknow peace. By the time you findthis, I will be gone.'"

"Gosh," said Willy brokenly,"he didn't even get to see howthe 5000-mile Speedway Racewas going to come out."

"Or the Solar Series," Eddiesaid, with large mournful eyes.

"Or whether Mrs. McGarveygot her eyesight back," addedMorty.

"There's more," said Lou, andhe began reading aloud again:"'I, Harold D. Ford, etc., dohereby make, publish and declarethis to be my last Will and Testament,revoking any and all formerwills and codicils by me atany time heretofore made.'"

"No!" cried Willy. "Not anotherone!"

"'I do stipulate,'" read Lou,"'that all of my property, ofwhatsoever kind and nature, notbe divided, but do devise and bequeathit to be held in commonby my issue, without regard forgeneration, equally, share andshare alike.'"

"Issue?" said Emerald.

Lou included the multitude ina sweep of his hand. "It meanswe all own the whole damnshootin' match."

Each eye turned instantly tothe bed.

"Share and share alike?" askedMorty.

"Actually," said Willy, whowas the oldest one present, "it'sjust like the old system, wherethe oldest people head up thingswith their headquarters in hereand"

"I like that!" exclaimed Em."Lou owns as much of it as youdo, and I say it ought to be forthe oldest one who's still working.You can snooze around hereall day, waiting for your pensioncheck, while poor Lou stumblesin here after work, all tuckeredout, and"

"How about letting somebodywho's never had any privacy geta little crack at it?" Eddie demandedhotly. "Hell, you oldpeople had plenty of privacyback when you were kids. I wasborn and raised in the middle ofthat goddamn barracks in thehall! How about"

"Yeah?" challenged Morty."Sure, you've all had it prettytough, and my heart bleeds foryou. But try honeymooning inthe hall for a real kick."

"Silence!" shouted Willy imperiously."The next person whoopens his mouth spends the nextsixth months by the bathroom.Now clear out of my room. Iwant to think."

A vase shattered against thewall, inches above his head.

In the next moment, a free-for-allwas under way, witheach couple battling to ejectevery other couple from the room.Fighting coalitions formed anddissolved with the lightningchanges of the tactical situation.Em and Lou were thrown intothe hall, where they organizedothers in the same situation, andstormed back into the room.

After two hours of struggle,with nothing like a decision insight, the cops broke in, followedby television cameramen frommobile units.

For the next half-hour, patrolwagons and ambulances hauledaway Fords, and then the apartmentwas still and spacious.

An hour later, films of the laststages of the riot were being televisedto 500,000,000 delightedviewers on the Eastern Seaboard.

In the stillness of the three-roomFord apartment on the 76thfloor of Building 257, the televisionset had been left on. Oncemore the air was filled with thecries and grunts and crashes ofthe fray, coming harmlessly nowfrom the loudspeaker.

The battle also appeared onthe screen of the television set inthe police station, where theFords and their captors watchedwith professional interest.

Em and Lou, in adjacent four-by-eightcells, were stretched outpeacefully on their cots.

"Em," called Lou through thepartition, "you got a washbasinall your own, too?"

"Sure. Washbasin, bed, lighttheworks. And we thoughtGramps' room was something.How long has this been goingon?" She held out her hand."For the first time in forty years,hon, I haven't got the shakeslookat me!"

"Cross your fingers," said Lou."The lawyer's going to try toget us a year."

"Gee!" Em said dreamily. "Iwonder what kind of wires you'dhave to pull to get put away insolitary?"

"All right, pipe down," saidthe turnkey, "or I'll toss thewhole kit and caboodle of youright out. And first one who letson to anybody outside how goodjail is ain't never getting backin!"

The prisoners instantly fellsilent.

The living room of the apartmentdarkened for a momentas the riot scenes faded on thetelevision screen, and then theface of the announcer appeared,like the Sun coming from behinda cloud. "And now, friends," hesaid, "I have a special messagefrom the makers of anti-gerasone,a message for all you folks over150. Are you hampered sociallyby wrinkles, by stiffness of jointsand discoloration or loss of hair,all because these things cameupon you before anti-gerasonewas developed? Well, if you are,you need no longer suffer, needno longer feel different and outof things.

"After years of research, medicalscience has now developedSuper-anti-gerasone! In weeksyes,weeksyou can look, feeland act as young as your great-great-grandchildren!Wouldn'tyou pay $5,000 to be indistinguishablefrom everybody else?Well, you don't have to. Safe,tested Super-anti-gerasone costsyou only a few dollars a day.

"Write now for your free trialcarton. Just put your name andaddress on a dollar postcard, andmail it to 'Super,' Box 500,000,Schenectady, N. Y. Have you gotthat? I'll repeat it. 'Super,' Box500,000 ..."

Underlining the announcer'swords was the scratching ofGramps' pen, the one Willy hadgiven him the night before. Hehad come in, a few minutesearlier, from the Idle Hour Tavern,which commanded a view ofBuilding 257 from across thesquare of asphalt known as theAlden Village Green. He hadcalled a cleaning woman to comestraighten the place up, then hadhired the best lawyer in town toget his descendants a conviction,a genius who had never gotten aclient less than a year and a day.Gramps had then moved the daybedbefore the television screen,so that he could watch from areclining position. It was somethinghe'd dreamed of doing foryears.

"Schen-ec-ta-dy," murmuredGramps. "Got it!" His face hadchanged remarkably. His facialmuscles seemed to have relaxed,revealing kindness and equanimityunder what had been tautlines of bad temper. It was almostas though his trial packageof Super-anti-gerasone had alreadyarrived. When somethingamused him on television, hesmiled easily, rather than barelymanaging to lengthen the thinline of his mouth a millimeter.

Life was good. He could hardlywait to see what was going tohappen next.

KURT VONNEGUT, JR.

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction January 1954.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.

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