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Warm air ran cold. Light flickered, form changed, melted, shifted as the thing evolved into certainty.
Startled, a tall, thin, pale man stood beside the metal star.
The man had pink, terrified eyes. He trembled.
‘Oh, I know you.’ Roby was disappointed. ‘You’re only the Sandman.’
‘Sand – man?’
The stranger quivered like heat rising from boiling metal. His shaking hands went wildly up to touch his long coppery hair as if he’d never seen or felt of it before. The Sandman gazed in horror at his own hands, legs, feet, body, as if they were all new. ‘Sand-man?’ The word was difficult. Talking was new to him, also. He seemed about to flee, but something stopped him.
‘Yeah,’ said Roby. ‘I dream about you every night. Oh, I know what you think. Semantically, our teachers say that ghosts, goblins and fairies, and sandmen are labels, only names for which there aren’t any actual referents, no actual objects or things. But to heck with that. We kids know more than teachers about it. You being here proves the teachers wrong. There are Sandmen after all, aren’t there?’
‘Don’t give me a label!’ cried the Sandman, suddenly. He seemed to understand now. For some reason he was unutterably frightened. He kept pinching, tugging, and feeling his own long new body as if it was a thing of terror. ‘Don’t name me, don’t label me!’
‘Huh?’
‘I’m a referent!’ screamed the Sandman. ‘I’m not a label! I’m just a referent! Let me go!’
Roby’s little green cat-eyes slitted. ‘Say –’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘Did Mr Grill send you? I bet he did! I bet this is another of those psychological tests!’
Roby flushed with dark anger. Always and for ever they were at him. They sorted his games, food, education, took away his friends and his mother, his father, and now – played tricks on him!
‘I’m not from Mr Grill,’ pleaded the Sandman. ‘Listen, before anyone else comes and sees me this way and makes it worse!’
Roby kicked violently. The Sandman danced back, gasping:
‘Listen. I’m not human! You are!’ he shouted. ‘Thought has moulded the flesh of all you here on this world! You’re all dictated to by labels. But I – I am a pure referent!’
‘Liar!’ More kicking from Roby.
The Sandman gibbered with frustration. ‘The truth, child! Centuries of thought have moulded your atoms to your present form; if you could undermine and destroy that belief, the beliefs of your friends, teachers, and parents, you could change form, be a pure referent, too! Like Freedom, Liberty, Humanity, or Time, Space, and Justice!’
‘Grill sent you; he’s always pestering me!’
‘No, no! Atoms are malleable. You’ve accepted certain labels on Earth, called Man, Woman, Child, Head, Hands, Fingers, Feet. You’ve changed from anything into something.’
‘Leave me alone,’ protested Roby. ‘I’ve a test today, I have to think.’ He sat on a rock, hands over his ears.
The Sandman glanced fearfully about, as if expecting disaster. Standing over Roby, he was beginning to tremble and cry. ‘Earth could have been a thousand other ways. Thought, using labels, went round tidying up a disordered cosmos. Now no one bothers trying to think things into other different shapes!’
‘Go away,’ sniffed Roby.
‘I landed near you, not suspecting the danger. I was curious. Inside my spheriod spaceship, thoughts cannot change my shape. I’ve travelled from world to world, over the centuries, and never been trapped like this !’ Tears sprang down his face. ‘And now, by the gods, you’ve labelled me, caught me, imprisoned me with thought! This Sandman idea. Horrible! I can’t fight it, I can’t change back! And if I can’t change back I’ll never fit into my ship again, I’m much too large. I’ll be stranded on Earth for ever. Release me!’
The Sandman screamed, wept, shouted. Roby’s mind wandered. He debated quietly with himself. What did he want most of all? Escape from this island. Silly. They always caught you. What then? Games, maybe. Like to play regular games, minus psycho-supervision. Yeah, that’d be nice. Kick-the-can, or spin-the-bottle, or even just a rubber ball to bounce on the garden wall and catch, all to himself. Yeah. A red ball.
The Sandman cried, ‘Don’t –’
Silence.
A red rubber ball bounced on the ground.
Up and down bounced the red rubber ball.
‘Hey!’ It took Roby a moment to realize the ball was there. ‘Where’d this come from?’ He hurled it against the wall, caught it. ‘Gee!’
He didn’t notice the absence of a certain stranger who had been shouting at him a few moments before.
