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diff --git a/22596-h/22596-h.htm b/22596-h/22596-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..068fc5d --- /dev/null +++ b/22596-h/22596-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1693 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Measure for a Loner, by Jim Harmon + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1 {text-align: center; + clear: both;} + + h2 {text-align: center; + clear: both; + margin-bottom: 2em;} + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + + .cpoem {width: 20em; margin: 2em auto; + text-align: justify; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;} + + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; + margin: 0; + padding:0; + line-height: .8em; font-size: 3em;} + + .theend {text-align: right; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Measure for a Loner, by James Judson Harmon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Measure for a Loner + +Author: James Judson Harmon + +Release Date: September 14, 2007 [EBook #22596] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEASURE FOR A LONER *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="cpoem">You can measure everything these days—heat, +light, gravity, reflexes, force-fields, star-drives. +And now I know there even is a ...</div> + + +<h1>MEASURE FOR A LONER</h1> + +<h2>By JIM HARMON</h2> + + +<p class="cap">SO, GENERAL, I came in to +tell you I've found the loneliest +man in the world for the +Space Force.</p> + +<p>How am I supposed to rate his +loneliness for you? In Megasorrows +or Kilofears? I suspect I +know quite a library on the subject, +but you know more about +stripes and bars. Don't try to +stop me this time, General.</p> + +<p>Now that you mention it, I'm +not drunk. I had to have something +to back me up so I stopped +off at the dispensary and stole +a needle.</p> + +<p>I want you to get off my back +with that kind of talk. I've got +enough there—it bends me over +like I had bad kidneys. It isn't +any of King Kong's little brothers. +They over rate the stuff. It +isn't the way you've been riding +me either. Never mind what I'm +carrying. Whatever it is—and +believe me, it <i>is</i>—I have to get +rid of it.</p> + +<p>Let me tell it, for God's sake.</p> + +<p>Then for Security's sake? I +thought you would let me tell it, +General.</p> + +<p>I've been coming in here and +giving you pieces of it for +months but now I want to let +you be drenched in the whole +thing. You're going to take it +all.</p> + +<p>There were the two of them, +the two lonely men, and I found +them for you.</p> + +<p>You remember the way I +found them for you.</p> + +<p>The intercom on my blond +desk made an electronic noise at +me and the words I had been arranging +in my mind for the +morning letters splattered into +alphabet soup like a printer +dropping a prepared slug of +type.</p> + +<p>I made the proper motion to +still the sound.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I grunted.</p> + +<p>My secretary cleared her +throat on my time.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Thorn," she said, "there's +a Mr. Madison here to see you. +He lays claim to be from the +Star Project."</p> + +<p>He could come in and file his +claim, I told the girl.</p> + +<p>I rummaged in the wastebasket +and uncrumpled the morning's +facsimile newspaper. It +was full of material about the +Star Project.</p> + +<p>We were building Man's first +interstellar spaceship.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A surprising number of people +considered it important. Flipping +from the rear to page one, +Wild Bill Star in the comics who +had been blasting all the way to +forty-first sub-space universe for +decades was harking back to the +good old days of Man's first star +flight (which he had made himself +through the magic of time +travel), the editor was calling +the man to make the jaunt the +Lindbergh of Space, and the +staff photographer displayed a +still of a Space Force pilot in +pressure suit up front with his +face blotted out by an air-brushed +interrogation mark.</p> + +<p>Who was going to be the +Lindbergh of Space?</p> + +<p>We had used up the Columbus +of Space, the Magellan of Space, +the Van Reck of Space. Now it +was time for the Lone Eagle, +one man who would wait out the +light years to Alpha Centauri.</p> + +<p>I remembered the first Lindbergh.</p> + +<p>I rode a bus fifty miles to see +him at an Air Force Day celebration +when I was a dewy-eared +kid. It's funny how kids still +worship heroes who did everything +before they were even born. +Uncle Max had told me about +standing outside the hospital with +a bunch of boys his own age the +evening Babe Ruth died of cancer. +Lindbergh seemed like an +old man to me when I finally saw +him, but still active. Nobody had +forgotten him. When his speech +was over I cheered him with the +rest just as if I knew what he +had been talking about.</p> + +<p>But I probably knew more +about what he meant then as a +boy than I did feeling the reality +of the newspaper in my +hands. Grown-up, I could only +smile at myself for wanting to +go to the stars myself.</p> + +<p>Madison rapped on my office +door and breezed in efficiently.</p> + +<p>I've always thought Madison +was a rather irritating man. +Likable but irritating. He's too +good looking in an unassuming +masculine way to dress so neatly—it +makes him look like a mannequin. +That polite way of his +of using small words slowly and +distinctly proves that he loves +his fellow man—even if his fellow +always does have less brains +or authority than Madison himself. +That belief would be forgivable +in him if it wasn't so +often true.</p> + +<p>Madison folded himself into +the canary yellow client's chair +at my direction, and took a +leather-bound pocket secretary +from inside his almost-too-snug +jacket.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Thorn," he said expansively, +"we need you to help us +locate an atavism."</p> + +<p>I flicked professional smile +No. Three at him lightly.</p> + +<p>"I'm a historical psychologist," +I told him. "That sounds in my +line. Which of your ancestors are +you interested in having me +analyze?"</p> + +<p>"I used the word 'atavism' to +mean a reversion to the primitive."</p> + +<p>I made a pencil mark on my +desk pad. I could make notes as +well as he could read them.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see," I murmured. +"We don't use the term that way. +Perhaps you don't understand +my work. It's been an honest +way to make a living for a few +generations but it's so specialized +it might sound foolish to +someone outside the psychological +industry. I psychoanalyze historical +figures for history books +(of course), and scholars, interested +descendants, what all, and +that's <i>all</i> I do."</p> + +<p>"All you <i>have</i> done," Madison +admitted, "but your government +is certain that you can do this +new work for them—in fact, that +you are one of the few men prepared +to locate this esoteric—that +is, this odd aberration +since I understand you often +have to deal with it in analyzing +the past. Doctor, we want you +to find us a lonely man."</p> + +<p>I laid my chrome yellow pencil +down carefully beside the +cream-colored pad.</p> + +<p>"History is full of loneliness—most +of the so-called great +men were rather neurotic—but I +thought, Madison, that introspection +was pretty much of a +thing of the, well, past."</p> + +<p>The government representative +inhaled deeply and steepled +his manicured fingers.</p> + +<p>"Our system of childhood psycho-conditioning +succeeds in +burying loneliness in the subconscious +so completely that even +the records can't reveal if it was +ever present."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I cleared my throat in order to +stall, to think.</p> + +<p>"I'm not acquainted with <i>contemporary</i> +psychology, Madison. +This comes as news to me. You +mean people aren't really well-adjusted +today, that they have +just been conditioned to <i>act</i> as if +they were?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Yes, that's it. +It's ironic. Now we need a lonely +man and we can't find him."</p> + +<p>"To pilot the interstellar +spaceship?"</p> + +<p>"For the <i>Evening Star</i>, yes," +Madison agreed.</p> + +<p>I picked up my pencil and held +it between my two index fingers. +I couldn't think of a damned +thing to say.</p> + +<p>"The whole problem," Madison +was saying, "goes back to the +early days of space travel. Men +were confined in a small area +facing infinite space for measureless +periods in freefall. Men +cracked—and ships, they cracked +up. But as space travel advanced +ships got larger, carried +more people, more ties and reminders +of human civilization. +Pilots became more <i>normal</i>."</p> + +<p>I made myself look up at the +earnest young man.</p> + +<p>"But now," I said, "now you +want me to find you an abnormal +pilot who is used to being +alone, who can stand it, maybe +even like it?"</p> + +<p>"Right."</p> + +<p>I constructed a genuine smile +for him for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Madison, do you really think +<i>I</i> can find your man when evidently +all the government agencies +have failed?"</p> + +<p>The government representative +pocketed his notebook deftly +and then spread his hands +clumsily for an instant.</p> + +<p>"At least, Doctor," he said, +"you may <i>know</i> it if you do find +him."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was a lonely job to find a +lonely man, General, and maybe +it was a crooked job to walk a +crooked mile to find a crooked +man.</p> + +<p>I had to do it alone. No one +else had enough experience in +primitive psychology to recognize +the phenomenon of loneliness, +even as Madison had said.</p> + +<p>The working conditions suited +me. I had to think by myself but +I had a comfortable staff to carry +out my ideas. I liked my new office +and the executive apartment +the government supplied me. I +had authority and respect and I +had security. The government +assured me they would find further +use for my services after I +found them their man. I knew +this was to keep me from dragging +my tracks. But nevertheless +I got right down to work.</p> + +<p>I found Gordon Meyverik exactly +five weeks from the day +Madison first visited me in my +old office.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I planned the +whole thing, Dr. Thorn," Gordon +said crisply.</p> + +<p>I knew what he meant although +I hadn't guessed it before. +He could tell it to me +himself, I decided.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't seem much to brag +about," I said. "Anybody who +can make up a grocery list +should be able to figure out how +to isolate himself on Seal Island."</p> + +<p>He sat forward, a lean Viking +with a hot Latin glance, very +confident of himself.</p> + +<p>"I reckoned on you locating +me, on you hustling me back to +pilot the <i>Evening Star</i>. That's +why I holed in there."</p> + +<p>"I can't accept your story," I +lied cheerfully. "Nobody is going +to maroon himself on an +island for three years because of +a wild possibility like that."</p> + +<p>Meyverik smiled and his sureness +swelled out until it almost +jabbed me in the stomach.</p> + +<p>"I took a broad gamble," he +said, "but it hit the wire, didn't +it?"</p> + +<p>I didn't reply, but he had his +answer.</p> + +<p>Instead I scanned the report +Madison had given me from Intelligence +concerning the man's +unorthodox behavior.</p> + +<p>Meyverik had quit his post-graduate +studies and passed by +the secured job that had been +waiting for him eighteen months +in a genial government office to +barricade himself in an old shelter +on Seal Island. It was hard +to know what to make of it. He +had brought impressive stores of +food with him, books, sound and +vision tapes but not telephone or +television. For the next three +years he had had no contact with +humanity at all.</p> + +<p>And he said he had planned it +all.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he drawled. "I knew +the government was looking for +somebody to steer the interstellar +ship that's been gossip for +decades. That job," he said distinctly, +"is one I would give a +lot to settle into."</p> + +<p>I looked at him across my unlittered +brand new desk and +accepted his irritating blond +masculinity, disliked him, admired +him, and continued to examine +him to decide on my <i>final</i> +evaluation.</p> + +<p>"You've given three years already," +I said, examining the +sheets of the report with which +I was thoroughly familiar.</p> + +<p>He twitched. He didn't like +that, not spending three years. +It was spendthrift, even if a +good buy. He was planning on +winding up somewhere important +and to do it he had to invest +his years properly.</p> + +<p>"You are trying to make me +believe you deliberately extrapolated +the government's need for +a man who could stand being +alone for long periods, and then +tried to phoney up references for +the work by staying on that island?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like that word +'phoney'," Meyverik growled.</p> + +<p>"No? You name your word for +it."</p> + +<p>Meyverik unhinged to his full +height.</p> + +<p>"It was <i>proof</i>," he said. "A +test."</p> + +<p>"A man can't test himself."</p> + +<p>"A lot you know," the big +blond snorted.</p> + +<p>"I <i>know</i>," I told him drily. "A +man who isn't a hopeless maniac +depressive can't consciously create +a test for himself that he +knows he will fail. You proved +you could stay alone on an island, +buster. You didn't prove +you could stay alone in a spaceship +out in the middle of infinity +for three years. Why didn't +you rent a conventional rocket +and try looking at some of our +local space? It all looks much the +same."</p> + +<p>Meyverik sat down.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why I didn't do +that," he whispered.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Probably for the first time +since he had got clever enough +to beat up his big brother Meyverik +was doubting himself, just +a little, for just a time.</p> + +<p>I don't know whether it was +good or bad for him—contemporary +psychology isn't in my line—but +I knew I couldn't trust a +cocky kid.</p> + +<p>But I had to find out if he +could still hit the target uncocked.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Stan Johnson was our second +lonely man, remember, General?</p> + +<p>He was stubborn.</p> + +<p>I questioned him for a half +hour the first day, two hours the +second and on the third I turned +him over to Madison.</p> + +<p>Then as I was having my +lunch I suddenly thought of +something and made steps back +to my office.</p> + +<p>I got there just in time to +grab Madison's bony wrist.</p> + +<p>The thing in his fist was silver +and sharp, a hypodermic needle. +Johnson's forearm was tanned +below the torn pastel sleeve. Two +sad-faced young men were holding +him politely by the shoulders +in the canvas chair. Johnson met +my glance expressionlessly.</p> + +<p>I tugged on Madison's arm +sharply.</p> + +<p>"What's in that damned +sticker?"</p> + +<p>"Polypenthium." Madison's +face was as blank as Johnson's—only +his body seemed at once +tired and taut.</p> + +<p>"What's it for?" I rasped.</p> + +<p>"You're the psychologist," he +said sharply.</p> + +<p>I met his eyes and held on but +it was impossible to stare him +down.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about physical +methods, I told you. I've been +dealing with people in books, +films, tapes all my life, not living +men up till now, can't you absorb +that?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently I've had more +experience with these things +than you then, Doctor. Shall I +proceed?"</p> + +<p>"You shall not," I cried +omnisciently. "I know enough to +understand we can't get the results +the government wants by +drugs. You going to put that +away?"</p> + +<p>Madison nodded once.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said.</p> + +<p>I unshackled my fingers and +he put the shiny needle away in +its case, in his suitcoat pocket.</p> + +<p>"You understand, Thorn," he +said, "that the general won't like +this."</p> + +<p>I turned around and looked at +him.</p> + +<p>"Did he order you to drug +Johnson?"</p> + +<p>The government agent shook +his head.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think so." I was beginning +to understand government +operations. "He only wanted +it done. Get out."</p> + +<p>Madison and his assistants +marched out in orthodox Euclidian +triangle formation.</p> + +<p>The doors hissed shut.</p> + +<p>"You know what?" The words +jerked out from Johnson. "I +think the bunch of you are +crazy. <i>Crazy.</i>"</p> + +<p>I decided to treat him like a +client. Maybe that was the way +contemporary psychologists handled +their men.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I sat on the edge of the desk +jauntily, confidently, and tried to +let the domino mask up a father +image.</p> + +<p>"You may as well get it +straight, Stan. The government +needs you and it's pointless for +you to say that need is unconstitutional +or anything. Bring it +up and it won't be long. When +survival is outside the rules, the +rules change."</p> + +<p>The eyes of Johnson were +strikingly like Meyverik's, dark +and unsettled. Only this boy, +younger, smaller than the Nordic, +had an appropriate skin +tone, stained by the tropical sun +somewhere in his ancestral past. +He dropped his gaze, expelled his +breath mightily and pounded one +angular knee with a half-closed +fist.</p> + +<p>"I'm not complaining about +conscription without representation, +Doctor, but I can't make +any sense out of these fool questions +you keep firing at me. What +in blazes are you trying to get +at? What kind of reason are you +after for my staying by myself? +I just do it because I <i>like</i> it that +way."</p> + +<p>With a galvanic jolt, I realized +he was telling the painfully simple +truth. I groaned at the realization.</p> + +<p>Meyverik had convinced all of +us that in our well-adjusted or +at any rate well-conditioned +world somebody had to have +some purposeful <i>reason</i> in loneliness, +solitude, so on that one +instance our thinking had already +been patterned, discarding +all the other evidence of generations +that the lonely man was +only a personality type, like +Johnson.</p> + +<p>I felt I had achieved at least +the quantum state of a fool.</p> + +<p>Johnson silently studied the +half-cupped hands laying in his +lap.</p> + +<p>"The hunting lodge in the +Andes seemed as good a place as +any to live after mother and +father were killed. You might +think it was lonesome at night +in the mountains, but it isn't at +all. You aren't alone when you +can watch the burning worlds +shadow the bow of God...."</p> + +<p>I cleared my throat. The poor +kid sounded like he would begin +spouting something akin to +poetry next.</p> + +<p>"So I believe you," I told him. +"That doesn't finish it. We have +to convince <i>them</i>. I don't like +this, but the simplest way +would be to volunteer for their +hibitor injection. I've found out +Madison and his crowd don't believe +men awake, only assorted +dopes."</p> + +<p>Johnson deflated his area of +the room with his breath intake.</p> + +<p>"Okay," he said at last. "I +guess so."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Johnson gave us what +we needed to clear the problem, +it didn't take me long to finish +processing the rest of the handful +of possible loners we had +located. Unlike Johnson, all the +rest had <i>reasons</i> for their self-imposed +loneliness. Unlike Meyverik +none of their reasons were +associated with the interstellar +flight. They instead involved literary +research, swindles, isolated +paranoid insanity and other +things in which the government +had no interest.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I found my job was +done and that we had located +only the two of them.</p> + +<p>Madison read my final report +braced on the edge of my desk, +his hand comradely on my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Good job, Doc," he vouched +replacing the papers on my blotter +with a final rustle. "Now I've +got news for you. The government +wants you to <i>test</i> these +boys for us now that you've +found 'em for us."</p> + +<p>I closed my jaw. "That's completely +out of line—<i>my</i> line. I +know you need a contemporary +man for that job."</p> + +<p>Madison punched me on the +bicep, fast enough to hurt.</p> + +<p>"Doc, after this project you +know more about contemp' stuff +than any professor who got his +degree studying the textbooks +<i>you</i> wrote."</p> + +<p>It was impossible to dislike +Madison except for practiced periods—that +was probably one +reason he had his job.</p> + +<p>"All right," I growled. "Get +your dirty pants off my clean +desk and I'll get out the bottle. +We'll—celebrate, huh?"</p> + +<p>But you know how I felt, General? +You remember how I tried +to get out of it. I felt like I had +led in the lambs and now I had +to help shear them. As a part-time +historian I can tell you +there's a word for that—Judas +goat. Give or take a word.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"It isn't the real thing, Doc," +Madison spelled out for me, +wearing a lemon twist of smile.</p> + +<p>I looked at the twin banks of +gauge-facings and circuit housings +in which centered TV +screens picturing either Meyverik +or Johnson. Red and sea-green +lights chased each other +around the control boards, died, +were born again. On the screens +the three color negatives mixed +to purple, shifted through a series +of wrong combinations and +settled to normal as the stereo-oscillation +echoed, convexed insanely, +and deepened to hold. +Video reception is lousy from +five hundred thousand miles out.</p> + +<p>I was too eye-heavy to be surprised.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me this is <i>The +Strange Flight of Richard Clayton</i> +all over again?"</p> + +<p>Madison clapped me on the +shoulder and breathed mint at +me, eyes on twittering round +faces.</p> + +<p>"Who wrote that? Poe? No, +no mock-up to fake space conditions +for them but calculate the +cost of the <i>real</i> interstellar ship. +We couldn't trust either of them +with it yet. You didn't really +think we could afford <i>two</i> ships. +Why do you think we haven't +told one man about his opposite +in a second ship? No safety margin +allowable in our appropriation, +Doc. Or so they tell me. +There's enough fuel and food to +take Johnson and Meyverik a +long way but not the distance."</p> + +<p>He shook his lean head almost +wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Damn it, Madison, do you +mean I've been beating my lobes +out for weeks for <i>nothing</i>? I +tested them. I checked them out. +Either was capable of making +the flight successfully—for their +own different reasons."</p> + +<p>Madison took his hand off my +shoulder and made a fist of it.</p> + +<p>"I'm not questioning your decision! +Will you ram that +through your obscene skull, +Thorn!"</p> + +<p>"Who is?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>"Not me. Not I, not I."</p> + +<p>"The general," I announced.</p> + +<p>"Just not me." Was he actually +trembling? But it wasn't +concern about what I thought of +him. Somebody closer, maybe. +Things were building up for +him.</p> + +<p>He jammed his nose almost up +against the glass dial surfaces, +swaying gently in his cups, staring +slightly cross-eyed at the +arrowed numbers.</p> + +<p>"You'll continue your tests +from here," Madison said. "Tell +them they are going to die."</p> + +<p>My face was at once cool and +damp.</p> + +<p>"That's a tough examination," +I gasped.</p> + +<p>"A lie," Madison told me. +"The boys at Psychicentre worked +out the problems."</p> + +<p>"You told me you wanted me!" +I screamed at him furiously.</p> + +<p>"Control your passionate, +dainty voice. You worked well +with those two. The experts +could work through you better."</p> + +<p>"Right through me, like a +razor blade through margarine," +I said. "It's not fair."</p> + +<p>"No, it's science. Psychology +as a science, not an art. Don't +damn me—I'm not the inventor," +Madison continued.</p> + +<p>"I'm one of them," I murmured, +"but I'd just as rather you +didn't blame me either."</p> + +<p>Madison punched the button +for me with a palsied, manicured +thumb.</p> + +<p>"Guess what, Meyverik?" I +said viciously. "You're going to +die."</p> + +<p>"What the blazes are you babbling +about?" the blond doll +snapped at me from the box of +the video screen.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I scanned the typed, stiff-backed +Idiot Prompters Madison +shoved into my fist. "It's—true. +You can't get out alive."</p> + +<p>"What's happened?" His face +perfectly blank.</p> + +<p>"Nothing out of the ordinary," +I said. "They have just informed +me it was planned this way. It +wasn't possible to build a round-trip +rocket yet. You need a lot +of fuel to make course adjustments +for the curvature of space, +so forth. The radio will send +back your reports on the Alpha +Centaurian planets. Undoubtedly +by all rules of probability they +won't support life without a +mass of equipment. They suckered +me too, Meyverik, I swear. +You turning back?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said almost immediately.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were after the +rewards, trained to get them. +You won't be able to enjoy them +posthumously."</p> + +<p>The video blanked. He had +turned off his camera.</p> + +<p>"I guess I thought so," Meyverik's +voice said. "But I kind +of like it out here—alone. I like +people but back there there's no +one to <i>touch</i>. They smother you +but you can't reach them. I can't +do anything better back there +than I can do here."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Madison got a bottle and he +and I got sloppily drunk, leaning +on each other, singing innocently +obscene songs of our youth. The +technicians, good government +men, were openly disgusted with +us.</p> + +<p>Two hours after we had contacted +Meyverik, I left Madison +snoring on the desk and lurched +to the control board, bunching +my soiled shirt at the throat +with my hand.</p> + +<p>I called Johnson.</p> + +<p>"Going to die, Johnson. Tricked +you. Can't get back, Johnson. +Not ever. No fuel. Ha, you can't +ever go home again, Johnson. +Like that, you damned runny-nosed +little poet?"</p> + +<p>His dark face worked weakly.</p> + +<p>Ha, he sure as thunderation +<i>didn't</i> like it.</p> + +<p>He asked for the bloody details +and I fed them to him.</p> + +<p>"Turning back, aren't you?" I +jeered.</p> + +<p>"I just wanted a place and a +time for thinking," he said +across the Solar System. "But +I'll die and I don't know if you +can dream in death."</p> + +<p>"Just what I thought," I +sneered.</p> + +<p>"I'm not turning back," he +said slowly. "People need me. +I've got a job to do. Haven't I? +Haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>," I screamed at him. +"You're just using that as an +excuse to kill yourself. Don't try +to tell me you're not weak! Don't +you try to make me think you're +strong! Hear me, Johnson, hear +me?"</p> + +<p>But he couldn't hear me.</p> + +<p>One of the government technicians +had broken the contact before +that last spurt.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"This is good," Madison said, +pawing fuzzily at his pocket. +"Really—<i>good</i>."</p> + +<p>I studied the three or four +watchdials wobbling up and +down my elongated wrist. They +seemed to say it was almost sunrise.</p> + +<p>I leered at Madison. "Yeah, +yeah, what is it? Huh, huh?"</p> + +<p>He shoved a crumpled card +into my lax fingers.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, "now tell +them—"</p> + +<p>"Yeah, yeah."</p> + +<p>"Tell them the whole thing is +useless."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>My stomach retched drily, +grinding the sober pills to dust +between its ulcerating walls.</p> + +<p>"Meyverik," I said to the +empty video tube, "they made a +mistake. They underestimated +curvature. You can't reach Alpha +Centauri. You can't correct +enough. Free space is all you'll +hit. Ever. You may as well come +home."</p> + +<p>The soft voice came out of nowhere, +from nothing.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to come back. I +like it here. This is what I've +always been trying to get and +I never knew it."</p> + +<p>Madison grabbed my arm with +pronged fingers.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Doc. That's just the +way the government wants him +to be."</p> + +<p>"Johnson," I said to the creased +face in the screen, "they made +a mistake. They underestimated +curvature. You can't reach Alpha +Centauri. You can't correct +enough. Free space is all you'll +hit. Ever. You may as well come—back."</p> + +<p>Johnson sighed, a whisper of +breath across the miles.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep going. No one has +ever been so far out before. I +can report valuable things."</p> + +<p>I stood there. The textbooks +report it takes muscular effort +to frown, more so than to smile. +But my face seemed to flow into +the lines of pain so hard it +ached without any effort of my +will. And I knew it would <i>hurt</i> +to smile.</p> + +<p>"They passed the final test," +Madison said at my side. "Tell +them it was a test."</p> + +<p>I would do it for him. I didn't +need to do it for myself.</p> + +<p>I motioned the technician to +open both channels.</p> + +<p>"The ship you are in," I said, +with no need to tell them of each +other, "is not the real <i>Evening +Star</i>. It will <i>not</i> take you to the +stars. This has been only a <i>test</i> +to credit your fitness to pilot the +real interstellar craft of the Star +Project. You must return to the +Lunar Satellite. This is a direct +order."</p> + +<p>The two screens remained +blank. Only the windless silence +of space echoed over Johnson's +channel, but the tapes later +proved that I actually did hear +a whispered laugh from Meyverik.</p> + +<p>I faced Madison.</p> + +<p>"They won't come back. They +could have passed any test except +the fact that what we put +them through was only a test. +For their own reasons, they will +keep going. As far as they can."</p> + +<p>Madison took out his notebook +and seemed to look for vital information. +Except that he never +cracked the cover.</p> + +<p>"Of course, we can't get them +back if they won't come," he +said. "If cybernetic remotes +functioned operationally at this +distance we wouldn't have to +send men at all."</p> + +<p>He replaced the pocket secretary +and looked at me edgewise, +speculatively.</p> + +<p>I touched his arm.</p> + +<p>"Let's find another bottle," I +said.</p> + +<p>He stepped back.</p> + +<p>"You found them. You tested +them. You killed them."</p> + +<p>And the government man +walked away and left me standing +with a murderer.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>You see it now, don't you, +General?</p> + +<p>What I'm carrying around on +my back is guilt. Not guilt complex, +not guilt fixation, just +plain old Abel-Cain <i>guilt</i>.</p> + +<p>In this nice, well-ordered age +I'm a killer and everybody +knows it.</p> + +<p>You see our mistake, General.</p> + +<p>We sent men with variable +amounts of loneliness. These +amounts could alter. But now +we have a golden opportunity.</p> + +<p>The <i>Evening Star</i> is waiting +and I have found for you a man +with the true measure of loneliness. +It is impossible for this +man to become any more or any +less lonely. It isn't the Ultimate +Possible Loneliness, understand +that, General.</p> + +<p>It's just that by himself or +with others he is always in a +crowd of three, no more, no +less.</p> + +<p>The interstellar ship is waiting.</p> + +<p>So tell me, General, have you +ever seen a lonelier man than +me, your humble servitor, Dr. +Thorn? No, I mean it. Have +you?</p> + + +<p class="theend">THE END</p> + + +<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Science Fiction Stories</i> March +1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Measure for a Loner, by James Judson Harmon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEASURE FOR A LONER *** + +***** This file should be named 22596-h.htm or 22596-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/5/9/22596/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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