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

Caution! Inflammable!
by Thomas N. Scortia

When the City Editor of the Gazette received word that a phoenix was building her nest on the very peak of the dome of the city hall, he naturally sent his best reporter speeding to the scene. The reporter, an intrepid young man known for his resourcefulness, decided that little was to be gained by observing the coming immolation from the pavement below and, after bribing a janitor, gained access to the ledge surrounding the base of the dome and climbed the narrow metal ladder to the peak where the bird was engaged in her labors.

"You realize," he said, accosting the phoenix, "that this is a very unorthodox place in which to build a nest, especially with the end you have in mind?"

"I do," the bird said, pausing in its work, "but there is no higher point in this area and I don't have enough strength remaining to make it west to some peak in the Rockies."

"Tell me," said the reporter, remembering his professional duties, "is it true that there is only one of your kind?"

"That's quite correct," said the phoenix, selecting a long shred of cellophane from a pile of debris balanced delicately on the slope of the dome. She began swiftly to weave it into the nest, following an intricately beautiful pattern.

"And when you become old, you build a nest and set fire to it while you are in it?"

"Yes." said the bird wearily.

"And arise reborn from the ashes?"

"Quite true."

"But." the reporter said, frowning, "I thought you were indigenous to the East."

"I was originally," the bird agreed. "However, since the phoenix is a symbol of ever-renewing youth, I decided to migrate to a more appropriate locale."

"Here in the Mississippi Valley?"

"Don't be silly," the bird said. "I was on my way to Hollywood, but I foresaw that I would die before I completed the Hight."

"You can foresee your death, then?"

"Of course, as welt as other events. I have precognition, you see."

"Precognition? That means you can predict coming events, doesn't it?"

"Yes," the phoenix said, beginning to weave a scrap of newspaper into the nest, which was nearly finished.

"Such as the outcome of the next election and who will win the World Series and…"

"Oh, thai and much more," the bird said, settling itself into the completed nest. "But don't ask me to," she said.

"Everyone's always asking for a free prediction. Very exasperating."

"1 had no intention," protested the reporter.

"Yes, you did," contradicted the bird. "Anyway, there's only a few minutes left before twelve."

"Is that when…?"

"Yes," said the phoenix. "Promptly at noon." The reporter paused and eyed the nest.

"That's not quite the nest 1 had expected," he remarked at last. "1 thought you were supposed to use sandalwood and various other exotic plants."

"Now, tell me," the bird said impatiently, "where would I get sandalwood around here?"

"You do have a point," the reporter agreed. "I notice," he added with a small glow of pride, "thai you have used my paper as part of your nest." He pointed to a large piece of newsprint bearing the masthead The Gazette and a black headline below.

"Yes. Not a very satisfactory texture, however." The phoenix squirmed uncomfortably. "Do you have the correct time?" she said.

"It's one minute to twelve," the young man offered.**I suppose you ignite spontaneously?"

"I'm afraid that part of the legend isn't quite true," tile phoenix sighed. "Usually in the past I've had help."

"Oh," said the reporter, "I didn't know. Can I offer you a match?"

The bird eyed the shred of newspaper whose black headlines said: "AEC to Test Nitrogen Super-Bomb Today Noon."

"That will not be necessary," she said.