A Blip of Fear to Make You Uncertain
From “The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles,” by Margaret St. Clair:
Mortensen sat down in the chair the gnole indicated and opened his sample case. He got out henequen cable-laid rope, an assortment of ply and yarn goods, and some superlative slender abaca fiber rope. He even showed the gnole a few soft yarns and twines made of cotton and jute.
On the back of an envelope he wrote prices for hanks and cheeses of the twines, and for fifty- and hundred-foot lengths of the ropes. Laboriously he added details about the strength, durability, and resistance to climatic conditions of each sort of cord. The senior gnole watched him intently, putting his little feet on the top run of his chair and poking at the facets of his left eye now and then with a tentacle. In the cellars from time to time someone would scream.
Mortensen began to demonstrate his wares. He showed the gnole the slip and resilience of one rope, the tenacity and stubborn strength of another. He cut a tarred hemp rope in two and laid a five-foot piece on the parlor floor to show the gnole how absolutely ‘neutral’ it was, with no tendency to untwist of its own accord. He even showed the gnole how nicely some of the cotton twines made up a square knotwork.
There’s something evil happening below the surface. How do you reveal that reality in the space of only a few-thousand words?
Margaret St. Clair leaves hints in her short short story, “The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles.” She doesn’t try to hide them; she also doesn’t make a production out of them. She finds the Goldilocks zone between too little and too much.
The hint in this scene appears in the periphery of Mortensen’s presentation: “In the cellars from time to time someone would scream.”
It’s a brief nod to what’s happening elsewhere. Almost an afterthought. Yet it bites into the story because of the way it quickly passes through what’s happening in the foreground.
Neither Mortensen nor the gnole make any mention of the screams. Mortensen continues, absorbed in his own salesmanship. The gnole knows what’s happening in its own residence. You become aware of the weight of both those reactions and gain much more than fright from their indifference.
When Mortensen doesn’t react to the screams, you learn a lot about him as a person. The beginning of the story (not shown above) builds his attitude as an intrepid salesman, but it’s not until this moment that you see him in action. He’s thorough with the presentation of his wares, and he’s oblivious to everything else.
His entire being is dedicated to making the sale. The screams below him foreshadow a possible consequence of his single-mindedness.
The gnole’s non-reaction shows part of its personality too, and perhaps the personality of its race. By ignoring the screams, it indicates that the most important part of the moment is this transaction. The gnoles aren’t friends or even acquaintances with Mortensen, so you begin to wonder if they will purchase the ropes and let him go or simply throw him into the cellar.
The structure of these paragraphs also does a service to keep you guessing about Mortensen’s fate. The shape is something like Presentation -> Quick aside -> Presentation.
The gnole lets Mortensen continue, suggesting that his sales pitch has value and, by extension, that his life has value. If the ropes are good, who would sell more to the gnoles if they threw Mortensen into the cellar?
On the other hand, the question of Mortensen’s value remains juxtaposed against what’s happening in the cellar. St. Clair placed those screams in the center of the action to generate unease. The pattern of your feelings becomes something like Secure -> Blip of fear -> Uncertain.
Will Mortensen make the sale and leave with his life? Will the basement gain another victim?
The blip in this obsessed sales pitch had me guessing about Mortensen’s future until the end of the story. Not bad for ten words.