Alfred Bester. The Demolished Man
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...Tail's suave questions. Many clients lost patience and left thestore. One sat quietly in a corner, too wrapt in a crystal recording to
realize he was left unattended. Nobody knew that Jackson Beck was completely
tone-deaf.
it while he was looking for a present for Maria Beaumont. Pass the word. And
where's that girl?
only Family Air-Rocket on the market"), Reich came up with a new advertising
program.
they use. They attribute human characteristics to them. They give 'em pet
names and treat 'em like family pets. A man would rather buy a Jumper if he
can feel affectionate toward it. He doesn't give a dame for efficiency. He
wants to love that Jumper."
and vote her the Monarch Jumper Girl. When a consumer buys one, he's buying
the girl. When he handles one, he's handling her."
dwarfs us, Mr. Reich. This is a wrap-up and blast!"
onto it. Comb the city. I want the girl to be about twenty-five. About
five-five tall; weighting a hundred and twenty pounds. I want her built. Lots
of appeal."
a sketch of my idea of the Jumper Girl. Look it over, have it reproduced and
passed out to your crew. There's a promotion for the man who locates the girl
I have in mind."
Monarch to dig up collusion between you and that appraiser, Graham.
buying spree. Something between me and Graham! Powell couldn't be that dumb,
could he? Maybe I've been overrating him.
disguises of plastic surgery. Freshly equipped with mongoloid features, he
took a job in Monarch Utilities' Accounting-city and attempted to unearth
Reich's financial relations with Graham, the appraiser. It never occurred to
him that his intent had been peeped by Monarch's Esper Personnel Chief,
reported upstairs, and that upstairs was quietly chuckling.
books. This should lower Reich's opinion of us by fifty per cent; which makes
him fifty per cent more vulnerable. Pass the word. Where's that girl?
twenty-four editions a day, Reich announced a new Monarch charity.
sanctuary to the city's submerged millions in their time of crisis. If you've
been evicted, bankrupted, terrorized, swindled... If you're frightened, for
any reason and don't know where to turn... If you're desperate... Take
Sanctuary."
crazy. What's it for?"
booth. He called "Recreation" and gave careful instructions to Ellery West. "I
want a man placed in every Sanctuary office in the city. I want a full
description and photo of every applicant relayed to me at once. At once,
Ellery. As they come in."
accosted him.
thought a human interest interview with the originator of this wonderful new
charity might---"
reporter. Probably tailed him down and---Tenser, said the Tensor. Tenser,
said the Tensor. Tension, apprehension, and dissention have begun.
crying need for---"
afraid of death or murder? Were---"
dissention have begun.
looking for the appraiser. God knows what kind of red-herring Powell's
following, but it's away from you. I think the safety margin's increasing.
impractical tracer-robots dug up by the police lab. They were accompanied by
their impractical inventors to various parts of the solar system. In the
meantime, Marcus Graham had arrived on Ganymede where Powell located him at an
auction of rare primitive books conducted at break-neck speed by a peeper
auctioneer. The books had been part of the Drake estate, inherited by Ben
Reich from his mother. They had been unexpectedly dumped on the market.
port overlooking the arctic tundra of Ganymede with the belted red-brown bulk
of Jupiter filling the black sky. Then Powell took the Fortnighter back to
Earth, and Dishonest Abe was inspired by a pretty stewardess to disgrace him.
Powell was not a happy man when he arrived at headquarters, and Wynken,
Blynken, and Nod did some salacious wynking, blynking and nodding.
to Ganymede with that sale.
was in bad condition and the only game Maria could select was `Sardine.' We'll
never get Mose to pin anything on Reich with that. I know how that machine's
mind works. Damn it! Where's that girl!
retired in disgrace to don their uniforms once more. When Powell finally
reached her, she was at the "4,000" Ball. Miss Wyg& was delighted to talk.
Wyg&'s story. West did complain about gambling and Reich bought a psych-song
to stop it. It looks like he picked up that mind-block by accident. What about
that gimmick Reich used on the guards? And what about that girl?
exclusive press interview in which he revealed that Police Laboratories had
discovered a new investigation technique which would break the D'Courtney Case
within 24 hours. It involved photographic analysis of the Visual Purple in the
corpse's eyes which would reveal a picture of the murderer. Rhodopsin
researchers were being requisitioned by the police.
developed the Rhodopsin Ionizer for Monarch picked up and questioned by the
police, Reich phoned Keno Quizzard and devised a ruse to get Dr. Jordon off
the planet.
court throw it up for grabs. I'll make sure the cards are stacked for Jordon."
Make him suspicious. Let him find out the rest for himself."
Wilson Jordon and casually attempted to purchase Dr. Jordon's interest in the
Drake estate on Callisto for a small sum. The sour voice sounded suspicious to
Dr. Jordon, who had never heard of the Drake estate, and he called a lawyer.
He was informed that he had just become the probable legatee to half a million
credits. The astonished physiologist jetted for Callisto one hour later.
lead on the Rhodopsin angle. He's the only Visual Physiologist to disappear
after Crabbe's announcement. Pass the word to Beck to tail him to Callisto and
handle it. What about that girl?
While Maria Beaumont was occupying Reich's attention with her squawking
flight, a bright young attorney from Monarch's legal department was deftly
decoyed to Mars and held there anonymously on a valid, if antiquated, vice
charge. An astonishing duplication of that young attorney went to work for
him.
but something's fishy. This is dangerous.
check-up, and located the substitution. Then he called Keno Quizzard. The
blind croupier produced a plaintiff who suddenly appeared and sued the bright
young attorney for barratry. That ended the substitute's connection with
Monarch painlessly and legitimately.
our face... Rough & Smooth. Find out who's doing the legwork for him, and find
that girl.
mongolian face, one of Monarch's scientists who had been badly hurt in a
laboratory explosion, apparently left the hospital a week early and reported
back for duty. He was heavily bandaged, but eager for work. It was the old
Monarch spirit.
investigation on two levels. Don't pay any attention to the one that shows.
Watch out for the one underneath. I've peeped something about a hospital.
Check it.
Monarch was promptly burgled of Cr. 50,000 in laboratory platinum and the
Restricted Room was destroyed in the process. The newly returned scientist was
unmasked as an imposter, accused of complicity in the crime, and handed over
to the police.
from his own lab. How in God's name did he un-slick our trick? Can't we do
anything on any level? Where's that girl?
top brass was greeting the Continental Tax Examiner, an Esper 2, who had
arrived for a long delayed check on Monarch Utilities & Resources' books. One
of the new additions to the Examiner's squad was a peeper ghost-writer who
prepared her chiefs reports. She was an expert in official work... mainly
police work.
chances.
sent Hassop, his Code Chief, to Spaceland on that promised vacation. Hassop
obligingly carried a small spool of exposed film with his regular photographic
equipment. That spool contained Monarch's secret books, cased in a thermite
seal which would destroy all records unless it was properly opened. The only
other copy was in Reich's invulnerable safe at home.
double-tailed; Rough & Smooth. He's probably got vital evidence on him, so
Reich's probably got him beautifully protected. Damn it, we're licked. I say
it. Old Man Mose would say it. You know it. For Christ's sake! Where is that
goddamn missing girl?
blue for the veins, the underworld and overworld spread their networks. From
Guild headquarters the word passed to instructors and students, to their
families, to their friends, to their friends' friends, to casual
acquaintances, to strangers met in business. From Quizzard's Casino the word
was passed from croupier to gamblers, to confidence men, to the heavy
racketeers, to the light thieves, to hustlers, steerers, and suckers, to the
shadowy fringe of the semi-crook and near-honest.
departed to his regular job. He was Chief Guard on the floor of the Mars
Exchange Bank down on Maiden Lane. Stopping to buy a new commutation ticket at
the Pneumatique, he passed the time with an Esper 3, on duty at the
Information Desk, who passed Fred the word about Barbara D'Courtney. Fred
memorized the TP picture she flashed him. It was a picture framed in credit
signs.
loud scream for back rent.
fortune with 'at loppy yella head girl you pick up. You runnin' a golmine
withat spook stuff down-inna basement. Whaddya want from me?"
crazy. She was a genuine medium. B) She (Chooka) did not run rackets. She was
a legitimate fortune teller. C) If he (Snim) did not come through with six
weeks roof and rolls, she (Chooka) would be able to tell his fortune without
any trouble at all. Snim would be out on his asphalt.
credits. It was too early to run up to Quizzard's and work the sob on the more
prosperous clients. Snim tried to sneak a ride uptown on the Pneumatique. He
was thrown out by the peeper change clerk and walked. It was a long haul to
Jerry Church's hockshop, but Snim had a gold and pearl pocket-pianino up there
and he was hoping to cadge Church into advancing another sovereign on it.
passed the time. Snim told the sob to the clerk about his bitch landlady
crowning herself every day with the new spook-shill she was using in her
palm-racket and still trying to milk him when she was rolling. The clerk would
not weep even for the price of coffee. Snim departed.
quest for Barbara D'Courtney, the clerk reported Snim's visit and
conversation. What the clerk did not report, Church peeped. Nearly fainting,
he tottered to the phone and called Reich. Reich could not be located. Church
took a deep breath and called Keno Quizzard.
arose his crazy decision to work the bank teller graft. Snim trudged downtown
to Maiden Lane and cased the banks in that pleasant esplanade around Bomb
Inlet. He was not too bright and made the mistake of selecting the Mars
Exchange as his battlefield. It looked dowdy and provincial. Snim had not
learned that it is only the powerful and efficient institutions that can
afford to look second-rate.
opposite the tellers' cages, and stole a handful of deposit slips and a pen.
As Snim left the bank, Fred Deal glanced at him once, then motioned wearily to
his staff.
the front door. "He's getting ready to pull the `Adjustment' routine."
ahead with it. We'll pick him up after he's got the money and get a
conviction. Stash him for keeps. There's plenty of room in Kingston."
closely. A solid citizen was making a withdrawal at Cage Z. The teller was
passing over big chunks of paper cash. This was the fish. Snim hastily removed
his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and tucked the pen in his ear.
darted up and tapped the man's shoulder.
made a mistake and short-counted you. Will you come back for the adjustment
please?" Snim waved his sheaf of slips, gracefully swept the money from the
fish's fins and turned to enter the bank. "Right this way, sir," he called
pleasantly. "You have another hundred coming to you."
floor, slipped into the crowd and headed for the side exit. He would be out
and away before the fish realized he'd been gutted. It was at this moment that
a rough hand grasped Snim's neck. He was swung around face to face with a Bank
Guard. In one chaotic instant, Snim contemplated fight, flight, bribery,
pleas, Kingston Hospital, the bitch Chooka Frood and her yellow-headed ghost
girl, his pocket-pianino and the man who owned it. Then he collapsed and wept.
I've just made myself a mint!"
Powell received the identical information: "Girl answering to the description
of Barbara D'Courtney can be found in Chooka Frood's Fortune Act, 99 Bastion
West Side."
9
as a war memorial. Its ten torn acres were to be maintained in perpetuity as a
stinging denunciation of the insanity that produced the final war. But the
final war, as usual, proved to be the next-to-the-final, and Bastion West
Side's shattered buildings and gutted alleys were patched into a crazy slum by
squatters.
blazing explosions had burst among the stock of thousands of chemical glazes,
fused them, and splashed them into a wild rainbow reproduction of a lunar
crater. Great splotches of magneta, violet, bice green, burnt umber, and
chrome yellow were burned into the stone walls. Long streams of orange,
crimson, and imperial purple had erupted through windows and doors to streak
the streets and surrounding ruins with slashing brush strokes. This became the
Rainbow House of Chooka Frood.
complicated and confused that only Chooka understood the pattern of the maze,
and even Chooka herself was in doubt at times. A man could drift from cell to
cell while the floors were being searched, and easily slip through the meshes
of the finest dragnet. This unusual complexity netted Chooka large profits
each year.
sufficient sum, a consummate expert graciously MC'd the well-known vices for
the hungry and upon occasion invented new vices for the satiated. But the
celler of Chooka Frood's house was the phenomenon that had inspired her most
lucrative industry.
fused the ceramic glazes, the metals, glasses, and plastics in the old plant;
and a molten conglomerate had oozed down through the floors to settle on the
floor of the lowest vault and harden into shimmering pavement, crystal in
texture, phosphorescent in color, strangely vibrant and singing.
through twisting streets until you reached the streak of jagged orange that
pointed to the door of Chooka's Rainbow House. At the door you were met by a
solemn person in XXth Century formal costume who asked: "Frab or Fortune,
sir?" If you replied "Fortune" you were conducted to a sepulchral door where
you paid a gigantic fee and were handed a phosphor candle. Holding the candle
aloft, you walked down a steep stone staircase. At the very bottom it turned
sharply and abruptly disclosed a broad, long, arched cellar filled with a lake
of singing fire.
surface glowed and flickered a constant play of pastel borealis. At every step
the crystal hummed sweet chords, throbbing like the prolonged over-tones of
bronze bells. If you sat motionless, the floor still sang, responding to
vibrations from distant streets.
each holding his phosphor candle. You looked at them, sitting silent and awed,
and suddenly you realized that each of them looked saintly, glowing with the
aura of the floor; and each of them sounded saintly, their bodies echoing the
music of the floor. The candles looked like stars on a frosty night.
came the high chime of a silver bell repeated over and over. The entire floor
took up the resonance, and the strange relationship of sight and sound made
the colors flare up brilliantly. Then, clothed in a cascade of flaming music,
Chooka Frood entered the cellar and paced to the center of the floor.
stared at Chooka's blunt face; the thick nose, flat eyes, and corroded mouth.
The borealis flickered around her features and tightly gowned figure, but it
could not disguise the fact that although she had ambition, avarice, and
ingenuity, she was utterly devoid of sensitivity and clairvoyance.
then lifted her arms in what was intended for a sweeping mystic gesture.
into the deeps of your hearts. Look down into your hearts, you which are
looking for..." Chooka hesitated, then ran on: "You which are looking for
revenge on a man named Zerlen from Mars... For the love of a red-eyed woman of
Callisto... For every credit of that rich old uncle in Paris... For..."
Frood's natural ability had never been trained. "Wha... ? Who? Which is...
you?"
out: "Name: Lincoln Powell. Occupation: Police Prefect. Intent: To question a
girl named Barbara D'Courtney. I have heard she's participating in your act."
Powell transmitted a picture of the girl.
here. Get. Get out. Out..."
own people?"
is this for you? Mumbo Jumbo... Picking sucker brains and turning it all into
a Fortune Act. There's real work waiting for you, Chooka."
exasperation with Chooka. It was anger for the relentless force of evolution
that insisted on endowing man with increased powers without removing the
vestigial vices that prevented him from using them.
with the red-eyed woman..." Powell explored him gently. "He's been here
before. He's waiting for Barbara D'Courtney to come in. You dress her in
sequins. You bring her on in half an hour. He likes her looks. She does some
kind of trance routine to music. Her dress is slit open and he likes that.
She---"
often. She believes in her. She's waiting for her. Where's the girl, Chooka?"
peeping. You can't misdirect a 1st---I see. Fourth room on the left of the
angle turn. That's a complicated labyrinth you've got up there, Chooka. Let's
have it again to make sure..."
Reich to move from the eighteenth to the twentieth step on his way down to
Chooka Frood's rainbow cellar. Reich heard Chooka's furious screech and
Powell's reply. He turned and shot up the stairs to the main floor.
hand and hissed: "I wasn't here. Understand?"
said the Tensor. Tension, apprehension, and dissension have begun. He brushed
past the girls who variously solicited him, then locked himself into the phone
booth and punched BD-12,232.
Where in hell is he?"
minutes to beat him to her. Quizzard was supposed to do that for me. He isn't
in the cellar. He's nowhere in the Frab Joint. He---"
to the coop? A short-cut I can use to beat Powell to her?"
the girl. It's a chance I'll have to take."
the right. The bodies separate and there's a door to a vertical pneumatique."
rear of the marble staircase, found the bas-relief, twisted the woman's head
savagely and watched the bodies swing apart. A steel door appeared. A panel of
buttons was set in the lintel. Reich punched TOP, yanked the door open and
stepped into the open shaft. Instantly a metal plate jolted up against his
soles and with a hiss of air pressure he was lofted eight stories to the top
floor. A magnetic catch held the plate while he opened the shaft door and
stepped out.
and leaned to the left. It was floored with canvas. The ceiling glowed at
intervals with small flickering globes of radon. The walls were lined with
doors, none of them numbered.
opened to a narrow cubby entirely filled with an oval bed. Reich tripped over
the edge of the bed and fell. He crawled across the foam mattress to a door on
the opposite side, thrust it open, and fell through. He found himself on a
landing. A flight of steps led down to a round anteroom rimmed with doors.
Reich tumbled down the steps and stood, breathing heavily, staring at the
circle of doors.
it open. A woman with eyes dyed red by plastic surgery was standing just
inside and Reich blundered against her. She burst into unaccountable laughter,
raised both fists and beat his face. Blinded and bewildered, Reich backed away
from the powerful red-eyed woman, reached for the door, apparently missed it
and seized the knob of another, for when he backed out of the room it was not
into the circular foyer. His heels caught in three inches of plastic quilting.
He tumbled over backwards, slamming the door as he fell, and struck his head a
stunning blow against the edge of a porcelain stove.
Chooka Frood.
and she was still laughing; but the gun was trained on his skull and never
wavered.
backward, dropping the gun, and twitched in a corner, still laughing. Reich
ignored her. He picked up the scrambler and rammed it against Chooka's temple.
nervous system with a low induction current. She stiffened and began to
tremble. Her skin glistened with sudden sweat, but she still shook her head.
Reich yanked the trigger back to second notch. Chooka's body was thrown into a
break-bone ague. Her eyes started. Her throat emitted the brute groans of a
tortured animal. Reich held her in it for five seconds, then cut the gun.
Chooka. It's Demolition for me one way or the other if I don't get that girl.
Where is she?"
"Fourth room... Left... After turn."
corkscrewed ramp. He mounted it, took a sharp turn, counted doors and stopped
before the fourth on the left. He listened for an instant. No sound. He thrust
open the door and entered. There was an empty bed, a single dresser, an empty
closet, a single chair.
Neither did the closet. As he turned to leave the room, he yanked at the
middle dresser drawer and tore it open. It contained a frost white silk gown
and a stained steel object that looked like a malignant flower. It was the
murder weapon; the knife-pistol.
emasculated cartridges. The one that had blown the top of Craye D'Courtney's
head out was still in place under the hammer.
Christ, not by a damned sight!" He folded up the knife-pistol and thrust it
into his pocket. At that moment he heard the sound of distant laughter... a
sour laugh. Quizzard's laugh.
laughter to a plush door hung open on brass hinges and deep set in the wall.
Gripping the scrambler at the alert with the trigger set for Big D, Reich
stepped through the door. There was a hiss of compressed air and it closed
behind him.
floor was transparent crystal, and gave a clear uninterrupted view of a
boudoir on the floor below. It was Chooka's Voyeur Chamber.
D'Courtney girl was perched on his lap wearing an astonishing slit gown of
sequins. She sat quietly, her yellow hair smooth, her deep dark eyes staring
placidly into space, while Quizzard fondled her brutally.
feel?"
with her back against the wall and an incredible expression of agony on her
face. It was Quizzard's wife.
don't know what's happening. Christ! If I only had my eyes!"
through the crystal floor. It could kill through anything. It was going to
kill now. Then Powell entered the boudoir.
Run!" She thrust herself from the wall and darted toward Powell, her hands
clawing at his eyes. Then she tripped and fell prone. Apparently, the fall
knocked her unconscious for she never moved. As Quizzard surged up from the
chair with the girl in his arms, his blind eyes staring, Reich came to the
appalled conclusion that the woman's fall was no accident; for Quizzard
suddenly dropped in his tracks. The girl tumbled out of his arms and fell into
the chair.
the first time in their war, Reich was afraid of Powell... physically afraid.
Again he aimed the scrambler, this time at Powell's head as the peeper walked
to the chair.
steady on Powell's skull.
answer, be bent down and stared into her blank placid face. He touched her arm
and repeated: "Are you all right, Miss D'Courtney? Miss D'Courtney! Do you
need help?"
attitude. Then she thrust out her legs and leaped from the chair. She ran past
Powell in a straight line, stopped abruptly and reached out as though grasping
a doorknob. She turned the knob, thrust an imaginary door open and burst
forward, yellow hair flying, dark eyes wide with alarm... A lightning flash of
wild beauty.
stopped short and backed away as though eluding someone. She darted to the
left and ran in a half circle, screaming wildly, her eyes fixed.
She fought and screamed, her eyes still fixed, then stiffened and clapped her
hands to her ears as though a violent sound had pierced them. She fell forward
to her knees and crawled across the floor, moaning in pain. Then she stopped,
snatched at something on the floor, and remained crouched on her knees, her
face once again placid, doll-like and dead.
relived the death of her father. She had relived it for Powell. And if he had
peeped her...
as a dancer, as serenely as a somnambulist. The peeper put his arm around her
and took her to the door. Reich followed him all the way with the muzzle of
the scrambler, waiting for the best shooting angle. He was invisible. His
unsuspecting enemies were below him, easy targets for the death-notch. He
could win safety with a shot. Powell opened the door, then suddenly swung the
girl around, held her close to him and looked up. Reich caught his breath.
Go ahead!" His lean face was suffused with anger. The heavy jet brows scowled
over the dark eyes. For half a minute he stared up at the invisible Reich,
waiting, hating, daring. At last Reich lowered his eyes and turned his face
away from the man who could not see him.
him, and Reich knew he had permitted safety to slip through his fingers. He
was halfway to Demolition.
10
can only photograph the same picture over and over---the scene that twisted it
into shock. Conceive of a bit of recording crystal, traumatically warped so
that it can only reproduce the same fragment of music over and over, the one
terrifying phrase it cannot forget.
explained to Powell and Mary Noyes in the living room of Powell's house. "She
responds to the key word `help' and relives one terrifying experience..."
young men of Kingston Hospital despite the fact that he was not a peeper, and
was fanatically devoted to his work. "In this day and age? Nothing is
permanent except physical death, Miss Noyes, and up at Kingston we've started
working on that. Investigating death from the symptomatic point of view, we've
actually---"
I use the girl?"
for catatonia. That shouldn't get in the way."
your peepers. Patient goes into catatonia. It's an escape. Flight from
reality. The conscious mind cannot face the conflict between the external
world and its own unconscious. It wishes it had never been born. It attempts
to revert back to the foetal stage. You understand?"
it means: `something already experienced, already tried.' Many patients wish
for something so strongly that finally the wish makes them imagine that the
act or the experience in which they never engaged has already happened. Get
it?"
to... oh, say, to be married to Powell and have a family. Right?"
to blast this well-meaning clumsy young normal.
might come to believe that you'd married Powell and had three children. That
would be Déjà Èprouvé. Now what we do is synthesize an artificial Déjà Èprouvé
for the patient. We make the catatonic wish to escape come true. We make the
experience they desire actually happen. We dissociate the mind from the lower
levels, send it back to the womb, and let it pretend it's being born to a new
life all over again. Got that?"
through development all over again at an accelerated rate. Infancy, childhood,
adolescence, and finally maturity."
walk... ?"
herself, she'll be ready to accept the reality she's trying to escape. She'll
have grown up to it, so to speak. Like I said, this is only on the conscious
level. Below that, she won't be touched. You can peep her all you like. Only
trouble is... she must be pretty scared down there. Mixed up. You'll have
trouble getting what you want. Of course, that's your specialty. You'll know
what to do."
door. "Delighted to be of service. Always delighted to be called in by
peepers. I can't understand the recent hostility toward you people..." He was
gone.
campaign. You know... peepers are clannish, can't be trusted, never become
patriots. Interplanetary conspirators, eat little Normal babies, &c."
dangerous man."
doubly dangerous. People always expect villains to look villainous. Well,
maybe we can take care of Reich before it's too late. Bring Barbara down,
Mary.
like a calm statue. Mary had dressed her in blue leotards and combed her
blonde hair back, tying it into a fox-tail with blue ribbon. Barbara was
polished and shining; a lovely waxwork loll.
red slug Quizzard and his wife... And when I peeped Reich upstairs, I threw it
in his teeth. I---"
If you make 1st we'll teach you. It's like the scrambler but psychogenic."
acoustical ducts. Reich's mistake. He was transmitting down the channel and I
swear I was hoping he had the guts to shoot. I was going to blast him with a
Basic that would have made Case History."
He thought he was safe... Didn't know about the Basic, even though Quizzard's
Decline & Fall jolted him... But he couldn't."
Maybe next time it'll be different. That's why I'm keeping Barbara D'Courtney
in my house. She'll be safe here."..
got to get at it... piece by piece. When I've got it, I've got Reich.
girl. She can't be left alone. You two can have my bedroom. I'll convert the
study for myself."
can't maybe thread-needle through that mind block."
want me for a chaperone. Victorian word, isn't? So are you, Linc. Positively
atavistic."
And there's something underneath that. I---
and turned pale.
you'd better not get it secondhand. Especially from me.
Then we'd better go to work."
probed delicately... Sensation of bedclothes... Voice calling dimly... Whose
voice, Barbara? Deep in the preconscious she answered: "Who is that?" A
friend, Barbara. "There's no one. No one. I'm alone." And she was alone,
racing down a corridor to thrust a door open and burst into an orchid room to
see---"What, Barbara?" "A man. Two men." Who? "Go away. Please go away. I
don't like voices. There's a voice screaming. Screaming in my ears..." And she
was screaming while instincts of terror made her dodge from a dim figure that
clutched at her to keep her from her father. She turned and circled... What
is your father doing, Barbara? "He---No. You don't belong here. There's only
the three of us. Father and me and---" And the dim figure caught her. A flash
of his face. No more. Look again, Barbara. Sleek head. Wide eyes. Small
chiselled nose. Small sensitive mouth. Like a scar. Is that the man? Look at
the picture. Is that the man? "Yes. Yes. Yes." And then all was gone.
was badly shaken... worse than Barbara D'Courtney. Hysteria cushioned the
emotional impact for her. He had nothing. He was reliving her terror, her
horror, her torture, naked and unprotected.
father? What did he use? Why didn't old D'Courtney put up a fight to defend
himself? Have to try again. I hate to do this to her..."
quickly. Gently, dear. Not so fast. There's plenty of time. "You again?"
Remember, me, Barbara? "No, No, I don't know you. Get out." But I'm part of
you, Barbara. We're running down the corridor together. See? We're opening the
door together. It's so much easier, together. We help each other. "We?" Yes,
Barbara, you and I. "But why don't you help me now?" How can I, Barbara?
"Look at father! Help me stop him. Stop him. Stop him. Help me scream. Help
me! For pity's sake, help me!"
kneeling too. The body before him slowly disappeared; the orchid room
disappeared, and Mary Noyes was straining to raise him.
"Ready for help now, or don't you think it's manly?"
brain power. We're in trouble."
of Reich. Barbara's recall is confused. That point's got to be cleared up.
I'll have to see D'Courtney's physician."
rocket? Call Idlewild.
that Sam earned two million credits per year, but it did not know that Sam was
efficiently killing himself with charity work. @kins was one of the burning
lights of the Guild long-range education plan, and leader of the Environment
Clique which believed that telepathic ability was not a congenital
characteristic, but rather a latent quality of every living organism which
could be developed by suitable training.
was overrun by charity cases. He invited everyone in the low income brackets
to trek their problems out to him, and while he was solving them, he was
carefully attempting to foster telepathy in his patients. Sam's reasoning was
quite simple. If, say, peeping were a question of developing unused muscles,
it might well be that the majority of people had been too lazy or lacked
opportunity to do so. But when a man is caught up in the press of a crisis, he
can not afford to be lazy; and Sam was there to offer opportunity and
training. So far, his results had been the discovery of 2% Latent Espers,
which was under the average of the Guild Institute interviews. Sam remained
undiscouraged.
vigorously destroying desert flowers under the impression that he was
cultivating, and conducting simultaneous conversations with a score of
depressed people who followed him about like puppies. The perpetual clouds of
Venus radiated dazzling light. Sam's bald head was burned pink. He was
snorting and shouting at plants and patients alike.
weed when I see it? Hand me the rake, Bernard."
@kins."
red. It changed colors in prismat...
