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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26761-h.zip b/26761-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ecf810 --- /dev/null +++ b/26761-h.zip diff --git a/26761-h/26761-h.htm b/26761-h/26761-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07b659a --- /dev/null +++ b/26761-h/26761-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1967 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cerebrum, by Albert Teichner + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.p2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + h2 {font-size: large; margin-top: -1em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + .tb {visibility: visible;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .blockquot {margin: 1em 10%;} + img {border: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .bk1 {background: url("images/001.png") top left no-repeat; width: 700px; height: 520px; margin: 0 auto 2em;} + .bk2 {padding-bottom: 295px; padding-right: 200px;} + .p1 {text-align: right;} + .p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + .figtran {float: left; text-align: justify; border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em;} + .figtran img {float: left; padding-right: 1em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cerebrum, by Albert Teichner + +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: Cerebrum + +Author: Albert Teichner + +Illustrator: Lloyd Birmingham + +Release Date: October 3, 2008 [EBook #26761] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CEREBRUM *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><div class="bk2"><h1><big>CEREBRUM</big></h1> + +<h2>By ALBERT TEICHNER</h2> + +<p class="p1"><i><b>For thousands of years the big brain served as a<br /> +master switchboard for the thoughts<br /> +and emotions of humanity.<br /> +Now the central mind was showing signs of decay<br /> +... and men went mad.</b></i></p> + +<p class="p1"><small><b>Illustrated by BIRMINGHAM</b></small></p></div></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> trouble began in a seemingly +trivial way. Connor had +wanted to speak to Rhoda, his +wife, wished himself onto a trunk +line and then waited. "Dallas +Shipping here, Mars and points +Jupiterward, at your service," +said a business-is-business, unwifely +voice in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I was not calling you," he +thought back into the line, now +also getting a picture, first flat, +then properly 3-D and in color. It +was a paraNormally luxurious +commercial office.</p> + +<p>"I am the receptionist at Dallas +Shipping," the woman +thought back firmly. "You rang +and I answered."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I rang right," Connor +insisted.</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure I know my job," +Dallas Shipping answered. "I +have received as many as five +hundred thought messages a day, +some of them highly detailed and +technical and—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it," snapped Connor. +"Let's say I focussed wrong."</p> + +<p>He pulled back and twenty seconds +later finally had Rhoda on +the line. "Queerest thing happened," +he projected. "I just got +a wrong party."</p> + +<p>"Nothing queer about it," his +wife smiled, springing to warm +life on his inner eye. "You just +weren't concentrating, Connor."</p> + +<p>"Don't you hand me that too," +he grumbled. "I <i>know</i> I thought +on the right line into Central. +Haven't I been using the System +for sixty years?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly—all habit and no attention."</p> + +<p>How smugly soothing she was +some days! "I think the trouble's +in Central itself. The Switcher +isn't receiving me clearly."</p> + +<p>"Lately I've had some peculiar +miscalls myself," Rhoda said +nervously. "But you <i>can't</i> blame +Central Switching!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mean that!" By +now he was equally nervous and +only too happy to end the conversation. +Ordinarily communications +were not monitored but if +this one had been there could +certainly be a slander complaint.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">On</span> his way home in the monorail +Connor tried to reach his +office and had the frightening experience +of having his telepathic +call refused by Central. Then he +refused in turn to accept a call +being projected at him, but when +an Urgent classification was added +he had to take it. "For your +unfounded slander of Central +Switching's functioning," announced +the mechanically-synthesized +voice, "you are hereby +Suspended indefinitely from the +telepathic net. From this point +on all paraNormal privileges are +withdrawn and you will be able +to communicate with your fellows +only in person or by written +message."</p> + +<p>Stunned, Connor looked about +at his fellow passengers. Most of +them had their eyes closed and +their faces showed the mild little +smile which was the outer hallmark +of a mind at rest, tuned in +to a music channel or some other +of the hundreds of entertainment +lines available from Central. +How much he had taken that for +granted just a few minutes ago!</p> + +<p>Three men, more shabbily +dressed, were unsmilingly reading +books. They were fellow +pariahs, Suspended for one reason +or another from paraNormal +privileges. Only the dullest, lowest-paying +jobs were available to +them while anyone inside the +System could have Central read +any book and transmit the information +directly into his cortex. +The shabbiest one of all looked +up and his sympathetic glance +showed that he had instantly +grasped Connor's changed situation.</p> + +<p>Connor looked hastily away; +he didn't want any sympathy +from that kind of 'human' being! +Then he shuddered. Wasn't he, +himself, now that kind in every +way except his ability to admit +it?</p> + +<p>When he stepped onto the lushly +hydroponic platform at the +suburban stop the paraNormals, +ordinarily friendly, showed that +they, too, already realized what +had happened. Each pair of suddenly +icy eyes went past him as +if he were not there at all.</p> + +<p>He walked up the turf-covered +lane toward his house, feeling +hopelessly defeated. How would +he manage to maintain a home +here in the middle of green and +luxuriant beauty? More people +than ever were now outside the +System for one reason or another +and most of these unfortunates +were crowded in metropolitan +centers which were slumhells to +anyone who had known something +better.</p> + +<p>How could he have been so +thoughtless because of a little +lapse in Central's mechanism? +Now that it was denied him, +probably forever, he saw more +clearly the essential perfection +of the system that had brought +order into the chaos following +the discovery of universal paraNormal +capacities. At first there +had been endless interference between +minds trying to reach each +other while fighting off unwanted +calls. Men had even suggested +this blessing turned curse be annulled.</p> + +<p>The Central Synaptic Computation +Receptor and Transmitter +System had ended all such negative +thinking. For the past century +and a half it had neatly +routed telepathic transmissions +with an efficiency that made ancient +telephone exchanges look +like Stone Age toys. A mind +could instantly exchange information +with any other Subscribing +mind and still shut itself off +through the Central machine if +and when it needed privacy. Except, +he shuddered once more, if +Central put that Urgent rating +on a call. Now only Rhoda could +get a job to keep them from the +inner slumlands.</p> + +<p>He turned into his garden and +watched Max, the robot, spading +in the petunia bed. The chrysanthemums +really needed more attention +and he was going to think +the order to Max when he realized +with a new shock that all orders +would have to be oral now. +He gave up the idea of saying +anything and stomped gloomily +into the house.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">As</span> he hung his jacket in the +hall closet he heard Rhoda +coming downstairs. "Queer thing +happened today," he said with +forced cheerfulness, "but we'll +manage." He stopped as Rhoda +appeared. Her eyes were red and +puffed.</p> + +<p>"I tried to reach you," she +sobbed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you already know. Well, +we can manage, you know, honey. +You can work two days a +week and—"</p> + +<p>"You don't understand," she +screamed at him. "<i>I'm</i> Suspended +too! I tried to tell it I hadn't done +anything but it said I was guilty +by being associated with you."</p> + +<p>Stunned, he fell back into a +chair. "Not you, too, darling!" +He had been getting used to the +idea of his own reduced status +but this was too brutal. "Tell +Central you'll leave me and the +guilt will be gone."</p> + +<p>"You fool, I did say that and +my defense was refused!"</p> + +<p>Tears welled in his eyes. Was +there no bottom to this horror? +"You yourself suggested that?"</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I?" she cried. +"It wasn't my fault at all."</p> + +<p>He sat there and tried not to +listen as waves of hate rolled +over him. Then the front bell +rang and Rhoda answered it.</p> + +<p>"I haven't been able to reach +you," someone was saying +through the door. It was Sheila +Williams who lived just down +the lane. "Lately lines seem to +get tied up more and more. It's +about tonight's game."</p> + +<p>Just then Rhoda opened the +door and Sheila came to an abrupt +halt as she saw her old friend's +face. Her expression turned +stony and she said, "I wanted +you to know the game is off." +Then she strode away.</p> + +<p>Unbelieving, Rhoda watched +her go. "After forty years!" she +exclaimed. She slowly came back +to her husband and stared down +at him. "Forty years of 'undying' +friendship, gone like that!" Her +eyes softened a little. "Maybe +I'm wrong, Connor, maybe I said +too much through Central myself. +And maybe I'd have acted +like Sheila if <i>they</i> had been the +ones."</p> + +<p>He withdrew his hands from +his face. "I've done the same +thing to other wretches myself. +We'll just have to get used to it +somehow. I've enough social credits +to hang on here a year anyway."</p> + +<p>"Get used to it," she repeated +dully. This time there was no denunciation +but she had to flee up +the stairs to be alone.</p> + +<p>He went to the big bay window +and, trying to keep his mind +blank, watched Max re-spading +the petunia bed. He really should +go out and tell the robot to stop, +he decided, otherwise the same +work would be repeated again +and again. But he just watched +for the next hour as Max kept returning +to the far end of the bed +and working his way up to the +window, nodding mindlessly with +each neat twist of his spade attachment.</p> + +<p>Rhoda came back downstairs +and said, "It's six-thirty. The +first time since the boys left that +they didn't call us at six." He +thought of Ted on Mars and Phil +on Venus and sighed. "By now," +she went on, "they know what's +happened. Usually colonial children +just refuse to have anything +more to do with parents like us. +And they're right—they have +their own futures to consider."</p> + +<p>"They'll still write to us," he +started reassuring her but she +had already gone outside where +he could hear her giving Max +vocal instructions for preparing +dinner. Which was just as well—she +would know the truth soon +enough. Without a doubt the boys +were now also guilty by association +and they'd have nothing left +to lose by maintaining contact.</p> + +<p>At dinner, though, he felt less +kindly toward her and snapped +a few times. Then it was Rhoda's +turn to exercise forebearance +and to try to smooth things over. +Once she looked out the picture +window at the perfect synthetic +thatch of the Williams' great +cottage, peeping over the hollyhock-topped +rise of ground at +the end of the garden. "Well?" +he demanded. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Connor."</p> + +<p>"You sighed and I want to +know what the devil—"</p> + +<p>"Since you insist—I was +thinking how lucky Sheila Williams +always is. Ten years ago +the government authorized twins +for her while I haven't had a +child in thirty years, and now +our disaster forewarns her. +She'll never get caught off guard +on a paraNormal line."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He</span> snapped his fingers and +Max brought out the pudding +in a softly shining silver +bowl. Above it hovered a bluish +halo of flaming brandy. "Maybe +not. I've heard of people even +being Suspended without a reason." +He slowly savored the first +spoonful as if it might be the +last ever. From now on every +privileged pleasure would have +that special value. "One more +year of such delights."</p> + +<p>"If we can stand the ostracism."</p> + +<p>"We can." Suddenly he was all +angry determination. "I did the +wrong thing today, admitted, +but it really was the truth, what +I said. I've concentrated right +and still got wrong numbers!"</p> + +<p>"Me too, but I kept thinking it +was my own fault."</p> + +<p>"The real truth's that while +the System assumes more authority +each decade it keeps getting +less efficient."</p> + +<p>"Well, why doesn't the government +do something, get everything +back in working order?"</p> + +<p>His grin showed no pleasure. +"Do you know anybody who +could help repair a Master Central +Computer?"</p> + +<p>"Not personally but there +must be—"</p> + +<p>"Must be nothing! People are +slack from having it so good, +don't think as much as they used +to. Why bother when you can tap +Central for any information? <i>Almost</i> +any information."</p> + +<p>"How can it all end?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows and who cares?" +He was angry all over again. "It +will still be working well enough +for a few centuries and we, we're +just left out in the cold! I'm only +ninety, I can live another sixty +years, and you, you're going to +have a good seventy-five more of +this deprivation."</p> + +<p>Max was standing at the foot +of the table, metal visual lids +closed as he waited for instructions. +Rhoda considered him unthinkingly, +then snapped back to +attention. "Nothing more, Max, +go to the kitchen and disconnect +until you hear from us."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said in that programmed +tone which indicated +endless gratitude for the privilege +of half-being.</p> + +<p>"That ends my sad day," Connor +sighed. "I'm taking a blackout +pill and intend to stay that +way for the next fourteen hours."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> next morning he rode +into the city in the same car +as the one that had brought him +back the day before. None of the +regulars even deigned to look in +his direction. There was another +change today. Only two fellow +Suspendeds were reading their +books even though there had +been three for the past few +months. Which meant another +one had exhausted his income +and was being forced into the +inner city.</p> + +<p>At the office none of Connor's +associates greeted him. They +didn't even have to contrast the +new tension in his face with the +easy-going, flannelled contentment +of their fellows. Undoubtedly +somebody had tried to reach +him or Rhoda and heard the Suspension +Notice on their severed +thought-lines.</p> + +<p>As was also to be expected, +there was a notice on his desk +that his executive services would +no longer be needed.</p> + +<p>He quickly gathered up his +personal things and went downstairs, +passing through the office +workers pool. Miss Wilson, +his Suspended secretary, came +up to him. She looked saddened +yet, curiously, almost triumphant +too. "We all heard the bad +news this morning," she said, +her blue eyes never wavering. +"We want you to know how sorry +we are since you're not accustomed—"</p> + +<p>"I'll never be accustomed to +it," he said bitterly.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Newman, you mustn't +think that way. Human beings +can get accustomed to whatever's +necessary."</p> + +<p>"Necessary? Not in my +books!"</p> + +<p>"Some day you may feel differently. +I was born into a Suspended +family and we've managed. +Being on the outside has +its compensations."</p> + +<p>"Such as?"</p> + +<p>"We-l-l—," she faltered, "I +really don't know exactly. But +you must have faith it will be +so." She pulled out a card from a +pocket of her sheath dress. +"Maybe you'll want to use this +some day."</p> + +<p>He glanced at the card which +said, <i>John Newbridge, Doctor at +Mind, 96th Level, Harker Building, +Appointments by Writing +Only</i>. There was no thought-line +coding.</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt," he muttered. +But she was starting to +look hurt so he carefully slid the +card into his wallet.</p> + +<p>"He's very helpful," she said. +"I mean, helpful for people who +have adjustment problems."</p> + +<p>"You're a good girl," he said +huskily. "Maybe we'll meet someday +again. I'll have my wife call—write +to you so you can visit +us before we have to come into +the city."</p> + +<p>"That," she smiled happily, +"would be so wonderful, Mr. +Newman. I've never been in a +home like that." Then, choking +with emotion, she turned and +hurried away.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">When</span> he reached home and +told Rhoda what had happened, +his wife was not in the +least bit moved. "I'll never let +that girl in my house," she said +through thin lips. "A classless +nothing! I'm going to keep my +pride while I can."</p> + +<p>There was some sense to her +viewpoint but, he felt uncertainly, +not enough for him to remain +silent. "We have to adjust, +darling, can't go on thinking +we're what we're not."</p> + +<p>"Why can't we?" she exploded. +"I couldn't even order +food today. Max had to go to the +AutoMart and pick it up!"</p> + +<p>"What are you trying to say?"</p> + +<p>"That <i>you</i> made this mess!"</p> + +<p>For a while he listened, dully +unresponsive, but eventually the +vituperation became too bitter +and he came back at her with +equal vigor. Until, weeping, she +rushed upstairs once more.</p> + +<p>That was the first of many arguments. +Anything could bring +them on, instructions for Max +that she chose to consider erroneous, +a biting statement from +him that she was deliberately +making herself physically unattractive. +More and more Rhoda +took to going into the city while +he killed time making crude, tentative +adjustments on Max. What +the devil, he occasionally wondered, +could she be doing there?</p> + +<p>But most of the time he did +not bother about it; he had found +a consolation of his own. At first +it had been impossible to make +the slightest changes in Max, +even those that permitted the robot +to remain conscious and give +advice. Again and again his +mind strained toward Central +until the icy-edged truth cut into +his brain—there was no line.</p> + +<p>Out of boredom, though, he +plugged away, walked past the +disdainfully-staring eyes of +neighbors to the village library, +and withdrew dusty microfiles on +robotry. Eventually he had acquired +a little skill at contemplating +what, essentially, remained +a mystery to his easily-tired +mind. It was not completely +satisfactory but it would be +enough to get him a better-than-average +menial job when he had +finally accepted his new condition.</p> + +<p>At long last a letter came from +Ted on Mars. It said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Guilty by association, that's +what I am! When it first happened +I was furious with the two +of you but resignation has its +own consolations and I've given +up the ranting. Of course, I've +lost my job and my new one will +keep me from Earth a longer time +but the real loss is not being able +to think on Earth Central once a +day. As you know, it's a funny +civilization here anyway. As yet, +there's no local telepathic Central +but all Active Communicators are +permitted to think in on Earth +Central once a day—except for +the big shots who can even telepath +social engagements to each +other by way of Earth! Privileged +but a pretty dull crowd anyway.</p> + +<p>Oh yes, another exception to +the general ration, Suspendeds +like me. Funny thing about that, +seems to me there are more Suspended +from the Earth System +all the time. Maybe I'm imagining +it.</p> + +<p>As lovingly as ever, your son, +Ted. (NO. <i>More</i> than ever!)</p></div> + +<p>Rhoda really went to pieces for +a while after that letter but, oddly +enough, all recriminations +soon stopped. She began going +into the city every day and after +each visit seemed a little calmer +for having done so.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Finally</span> Connor could no +longer remain silent about it. +But by now all conversations +had to be broached by tactful +beating around the bush so he +began by saying he had decided +to take a lower level job in the +metropolis.</p> + +<p>Rhoda was not surprised. "I +know. A good idea but I think +you should wait a while longer +and do something else first."</p> + +<p>That made him suspicious. +"Are you developing a new kind +of unblockable ESP? How'd you +know?"</p> + +<p>"No," she laughed. "Some day +we will maybe and people will +use it better this time. But right +now I'm just going by what I +see. You've been studying Max +and I knew you were bound to +get restless." She became +thoughtful. "What you really +want to know, though, is what +I've been doing in the city. Well, +at first I did very little. I kept +ending up in theatres where we +Suspendeds can go. That gave +a little relief. But since Ted's +letter it's been different. I finally +got up the courage to see Dr. +Newbridge."</p> + +<p>"Newbridge!"</p> + +<p>"Connor, he's a great man. +You should see him too."</p> + +<p>"My mind may have smaller +scope outside the System but +what's left of it isn't cracking, +Rhoda." Working himself into a +spasm of righteous rage, he +stalked out into the garden and +tried to convince himself he was +calmly studying the rose bushes' +growth. But Sheila and Tony +Williams came down the lane +that skirted the garden and, as +their eyes moved haughtily past +him, his rage shifted its focus. +He came back into the house and +remained in sullen silence.</p> + +<p>Rhoda went on as if there had +been no interruption. "I still say +Dr. Newbridge is a great man. +He dropped out of the System of +his own free will and that certainly +took courage!"</p> + +<p>"He willingly gave up his advantages +and privileges?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And he's explained why +to me. He felt it was destroying +every Subscriber's ability to +think and that it could not last. +Some day we would be without +anything to do our thinking and +he wanted out."</p> + +<p>Connor sat down and stared +thoughtfully out the window. +Max had just lumbered into the +garden and, having unscrewed +one hand to replace it with a +flexible spade, was starting on +the evening schedule for turning +over the soil at the base of the +plants. He would go methodically +down one flower bed, then +up the next one, until all had +been worked over, then would +start all over again unless ordered +to stop. "Are we to end up +the same way?" Connor shuddered. +He slapped his knee. "All +right, I'll go with you tomorrow. +I've got to see what he's like—a +man who'd voluntarily surrender +ninety percent of his powers!"</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> next morning they rode +into the city together and +went to the Harker Building. It +was in an area dense with non-telepaths +each one showing that +telltale cleft of anxiety in his +forehead but briskly going about +his business as if anxiety were +actually a liveable quality. Newbridge +had the same look but +there was a nonetheless reassuring +ease to the way he greeted +them. He was tall and white-haired +and his face frequently +assumed an abstracted look as if +his mind were reaching far +away.</p> + +<p>"You've come here," he said, +"for two reasons. The first is +dissatisfaction with your life. +More precisely, you're dissatisfied +with your attitude toward +life but you wouldn't be willing +to put it that way, not yet. Secondly, +you want to know why +anyone would willingly leave the +System."</p> + +<p>Connor leaned back in his +chair. "That'll do for a starter."</p> + +<p>"Right. Well, there aren't +many anomalies like me but we +do exist. Most people outside the +System are there because they've +been Suspended for supposed infractions, +or they've been put +out through guilt by association, +or because they were born into a +family already in that condition. +Nothing like that happened to +me. From early childhood I was +trained by parents and teachers +to discipline the projective potential +of my mind into the System. +Like every other paraNormal, +I received my education by +tapping Central for contact with +information centers and other +minds. But I was a fluke." His +dark blue eyes twinkled. "Biological +units are never so standardized +that <i>all</i> of them fall under +any system that can be devised. +I functioned in this System, +true, but I could imagine +my mind existing outside, could +see my functioning <i>from the +outside</i>. This is terribly rare—most +people are limited to the +functions which sustain them. +They experience nothing else except +when circumstances force +them to. I, though, could see the +System was not all-powerful."</p> + +<p>"Not all-powerful!" Connor +exploded. "It got rid of me awfully +easily."</p> + +<p>His wife tried to calm him. +"Listen, dear, then decide."</p> + +<p>"You're surviving as a pariah, +Mr. Newman, aren't you? Your +wife tells me you've even started +to study robot controls, valuable +knowledge for the future and +personally satisfying now. Millions +of people do survive as outsiders, +as do the planetary colonists +who only have limited access +so far to social telepathy. +The System has built into it defenses +against Subscribers who +lack confidence in it—if it didn't +it would collapse. But people <i>in</i> +the System are not forced to remain +there. They can <i>will</i> themselves +out any time they close +their minds to it, as I did. But +they don't want to will themselves +out of it—you certainly +didn't—and their comfortable +inertia keeps everything going. +I think you have to know a little +about its history, a history which +never would have interested you +if you were still comfortably inside +it."</p> + +<p>He slowly outlined the way it +had developed. First those uncertain +steps toward understanding +the universally latent +powers of telepathy, then growing +chaos as each individual +spent most of his time fighting +off unwanted messages. After a +period of desperate discomfort a +few great minds, made superhuman +by their ability to tap each +others' resources, had devised +the Central System Switchboard. +Only living units, delicately +poised between rigid order and +sheer chaos, could receive mental +messages but this problem had +been solved by the molecular biologists +with their synthesized, +self-replicating axons, vastly +elongated and cunningly intertwined +by the billions. These responded +to every properly-modulated +thought wave passing +through them and made the same +careful sortings as a human cell +absorbing matter from the world. +Then, to make certain this central +mind would never become +chaotic, there was programmed +into it an automatic rejection of +all sceptical challenges.</p> + +<p>"That was the highest moment +of our race," Newbridge +sighed. "We had harnessed infinite +complexities to our needs. +But the success was too complete. +Ever since then humanity +has become more and more dependent +on what was to be essentially +a tool and nothing +more. Each generation became +lazier and there's no one alive +who can keep this Central System +in proper working order." +He leaned forward to emphasize +his point. "You see, it's very +slowly breaking down. There's a +steady accretion of inefficiency +mutations in the axons and +that's why more and more +switching mistakes are being +made—as in your case."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Connor</span> was dazed by it all. +"What's going to be the upshot, +I mean, <i>how</i> is it going to +break down?"</p> + +<p>Newbridge threw up his +hands. "I don't know—it's probably +a long way off anyway. I +guess the most likely thing is +that more and more errors will +accumulate and plenty of people +will be Suspended just because +Central is developing irrational +quirks. Maybe the critical social +mass for change will exist only +when more are outside the System +than inside. I suspect when +that happens we'll be able to return +to <i>direct</i> telepathic contact. +As things are, our projection attempts +are always blocked." A +buzzing sound came out of a +small black box on the doctor's +desk, startling Connor who in +his executive days had received +all such signals directly in his +head. "Well, I've another patient +waiting so this will have to be +the end of our chat."</p> + +<p>Connor and his wife exchanged +glances. He said, "I'd like to +come back. I'll probably have a +twenty-hour week so I'll be in +town a few days a week."</p> + +<p>"More than welcome to come +again," Newbridge grinned. +"Just make the arrangements +with Miss Richards, my nurse."</p> + +<p>When they were in the street +Rhoda asked, "Well, what do you +think now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think +yet—but I do feel better. Rhoda, +would you mind going home +alone? I think I'll find a job right +away."</p> + +<p>"Mind?" she laughed. "It's +wonderful news!"</p> + +<p>After he left her he wandered +around the city awhile. In his +paraNormal days he had never +noticed them but it certainly was +true that there were a lot of +Suspendeds about. He studied +some of them as he went along, +trying to fathom their likes and +dislikes by the way they moved +and their expressions. But, unlike +the paraNormals, each was +different and it was impossible to +see deeply into them.</p> + +<p>Then, as he rounded a corner, +he was suddenly face to face +with his new enemy. A large flat +park stood before him and there +in the middle was a hundred-story +tower of smooth seamless +material, the home of the Central +System's brain. There were +smaller towers at many points in +the world but this was the most +important, capable of receiving +on its mile-long axons, antennas +of the very soul itself, every +thought projected at it from any +point in the solar system. The +housing gleamed blindingly in +the sun of high noon, as perfect +as the day it had been completed. +That surface was designed to repel +all but the most unusual of +the radiation barrages that could +bring on subtle changes in the +brain within. The breakdown, +he thought bitterly, would take +too many centuries to consider.</p> + +<p>He turned away and headed +into an Employment Exchange. +The man behind the desk there +was a Suspended, too, and +showed himself to be sympathetically +understanding as soon as +he studied the application form. +"ParaNormal until a few months +ago," he nodded. "Tough change +to make, I guess."</p> + +<p>Connor managed a little grin. +"Maybe I'll be grateful it happened +some day."</p> + +<p>"A curious thought, to say the +least." He glanced down the application +again. "Always some +kind of work available although +there do seem to be more Suspendeds +all the time. Robot repair—that's +good! Always a +shortage there."</p> + +<p>So Connor went to work in a +large building downtown along +with several hundred other men +whose principal duty was overseeing +the repair of robot servitors +by other servitors and rectifying +any minor errors that persisted. +He was pleased to find +that, while some of his fellow +workmen knew much more about +the work than he did, there were +as many who knew less. But the +most pleasing thing of all was +the way they cooperated with +one another. They could not +reach directly into each other's +minds but the very denial of this +power gave them a sense of common +need.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He</span> visited Newbridge once a +week and that, too, proved +increasingly helpful. As time +went on, he found he was spending +less of it regretting what +he had lost. But once in a while +a paraNormal came through the +workshop, eyes moving past the +Suspendeds as if they did not +exist and the old resentment +would return in all its bitterness. +And when he himself did not feel +this way he could still sense it in +men around him.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly natural way to +feel," Rhoda said, "not that it +serves any purpose."</p> + +<p>"It's paraNormal lack of reaction," +he tried to explain, +"that's what really bothers me. +They don't even bother to notice +our hatred because we have the +strength of insects next to +theirs. They can all draw on +each others' resources and that +totals to infinitely more than any +of us have, even if as individuals +they're so much less. The perfect +form of security."</p> + +<p>But for a moment one day that +security seemed to be collapsing. +Above the work floor in Connor's +factory there was a gallery of +small but luxurious offices in +which the executive staff of paraNormals +'worked.' None of them +came in more than two days a +week but use of these offices was +rotated among them so all were +ordinarily occupied and workers, +going upstairs to the stock depot, +could see paraNormals in +various stages of relaxation. +Usually the paraNormal kept his +feet on a desk rest and, eyes +closed, contemplated incoming +entertainment. On rarer occasions +he would be leaning over a +document on the desk as his mind +received the proper decision from +Central.</p> + +<p>This particular morning Connor +was feeling bitterly envious +as he went by the offices. He had +already seen seven smugly-similar +faces when he came by Room +Eight. Suddenly the face of its +occupant contorted in agony, +then the man got up and paced +about as if in a trap. Deciding he +had seen more than was good for +him, Connor hurried on. But the +man in Nine was acting out the +same curious drama. He quickly +retraced his steps, passing one +scene of consternation after another, +and went back down to +the work floor, wondering what +it all meant.</p> + +<p>Soon everybody knew something +extraordinary was afoot as +all the paraNormals swarmed +noisily onto the runway overlooking +the floor. They were +shouting wordless sounds at +each other, floundering about as +they did so. Then, with equal +suddenness, everything was calm +again and, faces more relaxed, +they went back into their offices.</p> + +<p>That evening Connor heard +the same story everywhere—for +ten minutes all paraNormals had +gone berserk. On the monorail he +noticed that, though still more +relaxed than their unwelcome +fellows, they no longer exuded +that grating <i>absolute</i> sense of +security. No doubt about it—for +a few minutes something had +gone wrong, completely wrong, +with the Central System. "I don't +like it," Rhoda said. "Let's see +Dr. Newbridge tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet it's a good sign."</p> + +<p>Newbridge, though, was also +worried when they got to see +him. "They're losing some of +their self-confidence," he said, +"and that means they're going to +start noticing us. Figure it out, +Newman, about one-third the +population of Earth—nobody +can get exact figures—is outside +the System. The paraNormals +will want to reduce our numbers +if more breakdowns take place. +I'll have to go into hiding soon."</p> + +<p>"But why you of all people?" +Connor protested.</p> + +<p>"Because I and a few thousand +others like me represent not only +an alternative way of life—all +Suspendeds do that—but we possess +more intensive knowledge +for rehabilitating society after +Central's collapse. That collapse +may come much sooner than +we've been expecting. When it +does we're going to have enormous +hordes of paras milling +around, helplessly waiting to +learn how to think for themselves +again. Well, when we finally +reach the telepath stage +next time we'll have to manage it +better." He took out an envelope. +"If anything happens to me, this +contains the names of some people +you're to contact."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come to our +place now?" asked Rhoda. "We'll +still be able to hold it for a few +more months."</p> + +<p>"Can't go yet, too many things +to clear up. But maybe later." +He rose and extended his hand +to them. "Anyway it's a kind—and +brave—offer."</p> + +<p>"Sounds overly melodramatic +to me," Connor said when they +were outside. "Who'd want to +harm a psychiatric worker with +no knowledge except what's in +his head and his personal library?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">But</span> he stopped harping on the +point when they reached the +monorail station. Three Suspendeds, +obviously better educated +than most, were being led +away by a large group of paraNormals. +The paraNormals had +their smug expressions back but +there was a strange gleam of determination +in their eyes. "Sometimes +life itself gets overly melodramatic," +Rhoda said nervously.</p> + +<p>The possible fate of these arrested +men haunted him all the +way home as did the hostile +stares of the people in the monorail +car. At home, though, there +was the momentary consolation +of a pair of letters from the boys. +There was little information in +them but they did at least convey +in every line love for their +parents.</p> + +<p>But even this consolation did +not last long. Why, Connor muttered +to himself, did they have +to wait for letters when telephone +and radio systems could +have eased their loneliness so +much more effectively? Because +the paras did not need such systems +and their needs were the +only ones that mattered! His fingers +itched to achieve something +more substantial than the work, +now childishly routine, that he +was doing at the factory. Just +from studying Max he knew he +could devise such workable communication +systems. But all that +was idle daydreaming—it wouldn't +be in his lifetime.</p> + +<p>The next morning Rhoda insisted +they go back into the city +to try once more to persuade +Newbridge to leave. When they +arrived at the Harker Building +it seemed strangely quiet. The +few people who were about kept +avoiding each others' glances +and they found themselves alone +in the elevator to the 96th level. +But Miss Richards, the doctor's +nurse-secretary, was standing in +the corridor as they got out. She +was trembling and found it difficult +to talk. "Don't—don't go +in," she stuttered. "No help +now."</p> + +<p>He pushed past her, took one +glance at the fire-charred consulting +room where a few blackened +splinters of bone remained +and turned away, leading the +two women to the elevator. At +first Miss Richards did not want +to go but he forced her to come +along. "You have to get away +from here—can't do any good for +him now."</p> + +<p>She sucked in air desperately, +blinked back her tears and nodded. +"There was another ten-minute +breakdown this morning. +A lot of paraNormals panicked +and a vigilante pack came here +to fire-blast the Doctor. They +said I'd be next if things got any +worse."</p> + +<p>Connor pinched his forehead +to hold back his own anguish, +then pulled out a sheet of paper. +"Dr. Newbridge was afraid of +something like this. He gave me +a list of names."</p> + +<p>"I know, Mr. Newman, I know +them by heart."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't we try to contact +one of them?"</p> + +<p>As they came out into the +street, she stopped and thought +a moment. "Crane would be the +easiest to reach. He's an untitled +psychiatrist and one of the alternate +leaders for the underground."</p> + +<p>"Underground?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they tried to be prepared +for every eventual—"</p> + +<p>"It's impossible!" Rhoda broke +in. She had been looking up and +down the great avenue as they +talked. "There isn't one person +in the street, not one!"</p> + +<p>An abandoned robot cab stood +at the curb and he threw open +the door. "Come on, get in! +Something's happening. Miss +Richards, set it for this Crane's +address."</p> + +<p>The cab started to shoot uptown, +turning a corner into another +deserted boulevard. As it +skirted the great Park, he +pointed at Central Tower. There +seemed to be a slight crack in +the smooth surface half way up +but, as a moment's mist engulfed +the tower, it looked flawless +again. Then all the mist was gone +and the crack was back, a little +larger than before.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Connor</span> leaned forward and +set the cab for top speed as +they rounded into the straight-away +of another uptown street. +Occasionally they caught glimpses +of frightened faces, clumped +in lobby entrances, and once two +bodies came flying out of a window +far ahead. "They're killing +our people everywhere," moaned +the nurse.</p> + +<p>As they approached the +crushed forms, Connor slowed +down a little. "They're dressed +too well—what's left of them. +They're paraNormals!"</p> + +<p>A minute later they were at +the large apartment block where +Crane lived. They entered the +building through a lobby +jammed with more silent people. +All were Suspendeds.</p> + +<p>At first Crane did not want to +let the trio in but when he recognized +Newbridge's nurse he +unlocked the heavily-bolted door. +He was a massively-built man +with dark eyes set deeply beneath +a jutting brow and the +eyes did not blink as Miss Richards +told him what had happened. +"We'll miss him," he said, +then turned abruptly on Connor. +"Have you any skills?"</p> + +<p>"Robotics," he answered.</p> + +<p>The great head nodded as +Connor told of his experience at +work and on Max. "Good, we're +going to need people like you for +rebuilding." He pulled a radio +sender and receiver from a cabinet +and held an earphone close to +his temple, continuing to nod. +Then he put it down again. "I +know what you're going to say—illegal, +won't work and all that. +Well, a few of us have been waiting +for the chance to build our +own communication web and now +we can do it."</p> + +<p>"I just want to know why you +keep mentioning <i>our</i> rebuilding. +They're more likely to destroy all +of us in their present mood."</p> + +<p>"<i>Us?</i>" He took them to the +window and pointed toward the +harbor where thousands of black +specks were tumbling into the +water. "They're destroying themselves! +Some jumping from +buildings but most pouring toward +the sea, a kind of oceanic +urge to escape completely from +themselves, to bury themselves +in something infinitely bigger +than their separate hollow beings. +Before they were more like +contented robots. Now they're +more like suicidal lemmings because +they can't exist without +this common brain to which +they've given so little and from +which they've taken so much."</p> + +<p>Connor squared his shoulders. +"We'll have our work cut out for +us. Dr. Newbridge saw it all +coming, you did too."</p> + +<p>"Not quite," Crane sighed. "We +assumed that at the time of complete +breakdown the System +would open up, throwing all the +Subscribers out of it, leaving +them disconnected from each +other and waiting for our help. +But it worked out in just the +opposite manner!"</p> + +<p>"You mean that the System is +staying closed as it breaks +down? Like a telephone exchange +in which all the lines remained +connected and every call went to +all telephones."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Crane replied.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand this technical +talk," Rhoda protested, +watching in hypnotized horror as +the speck swarm swelled ever +larger in the sea.</p> + +<p>"I'll put it this way," Crane +explained. "Their only hope was +to have time to develop the desire +for release from the System +as it died. But they are dying <i>inside</i> +it. You see, Mrs. Newman, +every thought in every paraNormal's +head, every notion, every +image, no matter how stupidly +trivial, is now pouring into +every other paraNormal's head. +They're over-communicating to +the point where there's nothing +left to communicate but death itself!"</p> + +<p class="p2"><b>THE END</b></p> + +<div class="figtran"> +<a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="144" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a> +<b><big>Transcriber's Note:</big></b><br /><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Stories</i> January 1963. +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> + +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cerebrum, by Albert Teichner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CEREBRUM *** + +***** This file should be named 26761-h.htm or 26761-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/7/6/26761/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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index 0000000..55447ce --- /dev/null +++ b/26761.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1242 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cerebrum, by Albert Teichner + +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: Cerebrum + +Author: Albert Teichner + +Illustrator: Lloyd Birmingham + +Release Date: October 3, 2008 [EBook #26761] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CEREBRUM *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +CEREBRUM + +By ALBERT TEICHNER + + + _For thousands of years the big brain served as a + master switchboard for the thoughts + and emotions of humanity. + Now the central mind was showing signs of decay + ... and men went mad._ + + +Illustrated by BIRMINGHAM + +[Illustration] + + +The trouble began in a seemingly trivial way. Connor had wanted to speak +to Rhoda, his wife, wished himself onto a trunk line and then waited. +"Dallas Shipping here, Mars and points Jupiterward, at your service," +said a business-is-business, unwifely voice in his mind. + +"I was not calling you," he thought back into the line, now also getting +a picture, first flat, then properly 3-D and in color. It was a +paraNormally luxurious commercial office. + +"I am the receptionist at Dallas Shipping," the woman thought back +firmly. "You rang and I answered." + +"I'm sure I rang right," Connor insisted. + +"And I'm sure I know my job," Dallas Shipping answered. "I have received +as many as five hundred thought messages a day, some of them highly +detailed and technical and--" + +"Forget it," snapped Connor. "Let's say I focussed wrong." + +He pulled back and twenty seconds later finally had Rhoda on the line. +"Queerest thing happened," he projected. "I just got a wrong party." + +"Nothing queer about it," his wife smiled, springing to warm life on his +inner eye. "You just weren't concentrating, Connor." + +"Don't you hand me that too," he grumbled. "I _know_ I thought on the +right line into Central. Haven't I been using the System for sixty +years?" + +"Exactly--all habit and no attention." + +How smugly soothing she was some days! "I think the trouble's in Central +itself. The Switcher isn't receiving me clearly." + +"Lately I've had some peculiar miscalls myself," Rhoda said nervously. +"But you _can't_ blame Central Switching!" + +"Oh, I didn't mean that!" By now he was equally nervous and only too +happy to end the conversation. Ordinarily communications were not +monitored but if this one had been there could certainly be a slander +complaint. + + * * * + +On his way home in the monorail Connor tried to reach his office and had +the frightening experience of having his telepathic call refused by +Central. Then he refused in turn to accept a call being projected at +him, but when an Urgent classification was added he had to take it. "For +your unfounded slander of Central Switching's functioning," announced +the mechanically-synthesized voice, "you are hereby Suspended +indefinitely from the telepathic net. From this point on all paraNormal +privileges are withdrawn and you will be able to communicate with your +fellows only in person or by written message." + +Stunned, Connor looked about at his fellow passengers. Most of them had +their eyes closed and their faces showed the mild little smile which was +the outer hallmark of a mind at rest, tuned in to a music channel or +some other of the hundreds of entertainment lines available from +Central. How much he had taken that for granted just a few minutes ago! + +Three men, more shabbily dressed, were unsmilingly reading books. They +were fellow pariahs, Suspended for one reason or another from +paraNormal privileges. Only the dullest, lowest-paying jobs were +available to them while anyone inside the System could have Central read +any book and transmit the information directly into his cortex. The +shabbiest one of all looked up and his sympathetic glance showed that he +had instantly grasped Connor's changed situation. + +Connor looked hastily away; he didn't want any sympathy from that kind +of 'human' being! Then he shuddered. Wasn't he, himself, now that kind +in every way except his ability to admit it? + +When he stepped onto the lushly hydroponic platform at the suburban stop +the paraNormals, ordinarily friendly, showed that they, too, already +realized what had happened. Each pair of suddenly icy eyes went past him +as if he were not there at all. + +He walked up the turf-covered lane toward his house, feeling hopelessly +defeated. How would he manage to maintain a home here in the middle of +green and luxuriant beauty? More people than ever were now outside the +System for one reason or another and most of these unfortunates were +crowded in metropolitan centers which were slumhells to anyone who had +known something better. + +How could he have been so thoughtless because of a little lapse in +Central's mechanism? Now that it was denied him, probably forever, he +saw more clearly the essential perfection of the system that had brought +order into the chaos following the discovery of universal paraNormal +capacities. At first there had been endless interference between minds +trying to reach each other while fighting off unwanted calls. Men had +even suggested this blessing turned curse be annulled. + +The Central Synaptic Computation Receptor and Transmitter System had +ended all such negative thinking. For the past century and a half it had +neatly routed telepathic transmissions with an efficiency that made +ancient telephone exchanges look like Stone Age toys. A mind could +instantly exchange information with any other Subscribing mind and still +shut itself off through the Central machine if and when it needed +privacy. Except, he shuddered once more, if Central put that Urgent +rating on a call. Now only Rhoda could get a job to keep them from the +inner slumlands. + +He turned into his garden and watched Max, the robot, spading in the +petunia bed. The chrysanthemums really needed more attention and he was +going to think the order to Max when he realized with a new shock that +all orders would have to be oral now. He gave up the idea of saying +anything and stomped gloomily into the house. + + * * * + +As he hung his jacket in the hall closet he heard Rhoda coming +downstairs. "Queer thing happened today," he said with forced +cheerfulness, "but we'll manage." He stopped as Rhoda appeared. Her eyes +were red and puffed. + +"I tried to reach you," she sobbed. + +"Oh, you already know. Well, we can manage, you know, honey. You can +work two days a week and--" + +"You don't understand," she screamed at him. "_I'm_ Suspended too! I +tried to tell it I hadn't done anything but it said I was guilty by +being associated with you." + +Stunned, he fell back into a chair. "Not you, too, darling!" He had been +getting used to the idea of his own reduced status but this was too +brutal. "Tell Central you'll leave me and the guilt will be gone." + +"You fool, I did say that and my defense was refused!" + +Tears welled in his eyes. Was there no bottom to this horror? "You +yourself suggested that?" + +"Why shouldn't I?" she cried. "It wasn't my fault at all." + +He sat there and tried not to listen as waves of hate rolled over him. +Then the front bell rang and Rhoda answered it. + +"I haven't been able to reach you," someone was saying through the door. +It was Sheila Williams who lived just down the lane. "Lately lines seem +to get tied up more and more. It's about tonight's game." + +Just then Rhoda opened the door and Sheila came to an abrupt halt as she +saw her old friend's face. Her expression turned stony and she said, "I +wanted you to know the game is off." Then she strode away. + +Unbelieving, Rhoda watched her go. "After forty years!" she exclaimed. +She slowly came back to her husband and stared down at him. "Forty years +of 'undying' friendship, gone like that!" Her eyes softened a little. +"Maybe I'm wrong, Connor, maybe I said too much through Central myself. +And maybe I'd have acted like Sheila if _they_ had been the ones." + +He withdrew his hands from his face. "I've done the same thing to other +wretches myself. We'll just have to get used to it somehow. I've enough +social credits to hang on here a year anyway." + +"Get used to it," she repeated dully. This time there was no +denunciation but she had to flee up the stairs to be alone. + +He went to the big bay window and, trying to keep his mind blank, +watched Max re-spading the petunia bed. He really should go out and +tell the robot to stop, he decided, otherwise the same work would be +repeated again and again. But he just watched for the next hour as Max +kept returning to the far end of the bed and working his way up to the +window, nodding mindlessly with each neat twist of his spade attachment. + +Rhoda came back downstairs and said, "It's six-thirty. The first time +since the boys left that they didn't call us at six." He thought of Ted +on Mars and Phil on Venus and sighed. "By now," she went on, "they know +what's happened. Usually colonial children just refuse to have anything +more to do with parents like us. And they're right--they have their own +futures to consider." + +"They'll still write to us," he started reassuring her but she had +already gone outside where he could hear her giving Max vocal +instructions for preparing dinner. Which was just as well--she would +know the truth soon enough. Without a doubt the boys were now also +guilty by association and they'd have nothing left to lose by +maintaining contact. + +At dinner, though, he felt less kindly toward her and snapped a few +times. Then it was Rhoda's turn to exercise forebearance and to try to +smooth things over. Once she looked out the picture window at the +perfect synthetic thatch of the Williams' great cottage, peeping over +the hollyhock-topped rise of ground at the end of the garden. "Well?" he +demanded. "Well?" + +"Nothing, Connor." + +"You sighed and I want to know what the devil--" + +"Since you insist--I was thinking how lucky Sheila Williams always is. +Ten years ago the government authorized twins for her while I haven't +had a child in thirty years, and now our disaster forewarns her. She'll +never get caught off guard on a paraNormal line." + + * * * + +He snapped his fingers and Max brought out the pudding in a softly +shining silver bowl. Above it hovered a bluish halo of flaming brandy. +"Maybe not. I've heard of people even being Suspended without a reason." +He slowly savored the first spoonful as if it might be the last ever. +From now on every privileged pleasure would have that special value. +"One more year of such delights." + +"If we can stand the ostracism." + +"We can." Suddenly he was all angry determination. "I did the wrong +thing today, admitted, but it really was the truth, what I said. I've +concentrated right and still got wrong numbers!" + +"Me too, but I kept thinking it was my own fault." + +"The real truth's that while the System assumes more authority each +decade it keeps getting less efficient." + +"Well, why doesn't the government do something, get everything back in +working order?" + +His grin showed no pleasure. "Do you know anybody who could help repair +a Master Central Computer?" + +"Not personally but there must be--" + +"Must be nothing! People are slack from having it so good, don't think +as much as they used to. Why bother when you can tap Central for any +information? _Almost_ any information." + +"How can it all end?" + +"Who knows and who cares?" He was angry all over again. "It will still +be working well enough for a few centuries and we, we're just left out +in the cold! I'm only ninety, I can live another sixty years, and you, +you're going to have a good seventy-five more of this deprivation." + +Max was standing at the foot of the table, metal visual lids closed as +he waited for instructions. Rhoda considered him unthinkingly, then +snapped back to attention. "Nothing more, Max, go to the kitchen and +disconnect until you hear from us." + +"Yes," he said in that programmed tone which indicated endless gratitude +for the privilege of half-being. + +"That ends my sad day," Connor sighed. "I'm taking a blackout pill and +intend to stay that way for the next fourteen hours." + + * * * * * + +The next morning he rode into the city in the same car as the one that +had brought him back the day before. None of the regulars even deigned +to look in his direction. There was another change today. Only two +fellow Suspendeds were reading their books even though there had been +three for the past few months. Which meant another one had exhausted his +income and was being forced into the inner city. + +At the office none of Connor's associates greeted him. They didn't even +have to contrast the new tension in his face with the easy-going, +flannelled contentment of their fellows. Undoubtedly somebody had tried +to reach him or Rhoda and heard the Suspension Notice on their severed +thought-lines. + +As was also to be expected, there was a notice on his desk that his +executive services would no longer be needed. + +He quickly gathered up his personal things and went downstairs, passing +through the office workers pool. Miss Wilson, his Suspended secretary, +came up to him. She looked saddened yet, curiously, almost triumphant +too. "We all heard the bad news this morning," she said, her blue eyes +never wavering. "We want you to know how sorry we are since you're not +accustomed--" + +"I'll never be accustomed to it," he said bitterly. + +"No, Mr. Newman, you mustn't think that way. Human beings can get +accustomed to whatever's necessary." + +"Necessary? Not in my books!" + +"Some day you may feel differently. I was born into a Suspended family +and we've managed. Being on the outside has its compensations." + +"Such as?" + +"We-l-l--," she faltered, "I really don't know exactly. But you must +have faith it will be so." She pulled out a card from a pocket of her +sheath dress. "Maybe you'll want to use this some day." + +He glanced at the card which said, _John Newbridge, Doctor at Mind, 96th +Level, Harker Building, Appointments by Writing Only_. There was no +thought-line coding. + +"I have no doubt," he muttered. But she was starting to look hurt so he +carefully slid the card into his wallet. + +"He's very helpful," she said. "I mean, helpful for people who have +adjustment problems." + +"You're a good girl," he said huskily. "Maybe we'll meet someday again. +I'll have my wife call--write to you so you can visit us before we have +to come into the city." + +"That," she smiled happily, "would be so wonderful, Mr. Newman. I've +never been in a home like that." Then, choking with emotion, she turned +and hurried away. + + * * * + +When he reached home and told Rhoda what had happened, his wife was not +in the least bit moved. "I'll never let that girl in my house," she said +through thin lips. "A classless nothing! I'm going to keep my pride +while I can." + +There was some sense to her viewpoint but, he felt uncertainly, not +enough for him to remain silent. "We have to adjust, darling, can't go +on thinking we're what we're not." + +"Why can't we?" she exploded. "I couldn't even order food today. Max had +to go to the AutoMart and pick it up!" + +"What are you trying to say?" + +"That _you_ made this mess!" + +For a while he listened, dully unresponsive, but eventually the +vituperation became too bitter and he came back at her with equal vigor. +Until, weeping, she rushed upstairs once more. + +That was the first of many arguments. Anything could bring them on, +instructions for Max that she chose to consider erroneous, a biting +statement from him that she was deliberately making herself physically +unattractive. More and more Rhoda took to going into the city while he +killed time making crude, tentative adjustments on Max. What the devil, +he occasionally wondered, could she be doing there? + +But most of the time he did not bother about it; he had found a +consolation of his own. At first it had been impossible to make the +slightest changes in Max, even those that permitted the robot to remain +conscious and give advice. Again and again his mind strained toward +Central until the icy-edged truth cut into his brain--there was no line. + +Out of boredom, though, he plugged away, walked past the +disdainfully-staring eyes of neighbors to the village library, and +withdrew dusty microfiles on robotry. Eventually he had acquired a +little skill at contemplating what, essentially, remained a mystery to +his easily-tired mind. It was not completely satisfactory but it would +be enough to get him a better-than-average menial job when he had +finally accepted his new condition. + +At long last a letter came from Ted on Mars. It said: + + Guilty by association, that's what I am! When it first happened I + was furious with the two of you but resignation has its own + consolations and I've given up the ranting. Of course, I've lost my + job and my new one will keep me from Earth a longer time but the + real loss is not being able to think on Earth Central once a day. As + you know, it's a funny civilization here anyway. As yet, there's no + local telepathic Central but all Active Communicators are permitted + to think in on Earth Central once a day--except for the big shots + who can even telepath social engagements to each other by way of + Earth! Privileged but a pretty dull crowd anyway. + + Oh yes, another exception to the general ration, Suspendeds like me. + Funny thing about that, seems to me there are more Suspended from + the Earth System all the time. Maybe I'm imagining it. + + As lovingly as ever, your son, Ted. (NO. _More_ than ever!) + +Rhoda really went to pieces for a while after that letter but, oddly +enough, all recriminations soon stopped. She began going into the city +every day and after each visit seemed a little calmer for having done +so. + + * * * + +Finally Connor could no longer remain silent about it. But by now all +conversations had to be broached by tactful beating around the bush so +he began by saying he had decided to take a lower level job in the +metropolis. + +Rhoda was not surprised. "I know. A good idea but I think you should +wait a while longer and do something else first." + +That made him suspicious. "Are you developing a new kind of unblockable +ESP? How'd you know?" + +"No," she laughed. "Some day we will maybe and people will use it better +this time. But right now I'm just going by what I see. You've been +studying Max and I knew you were bound to get restless." She became +thoughtful. "What you really want to know, though, is what I've been +doing in the city. Well, at first I did very little. I kept ending up in +theatres where we Suspendeds can go. That gave a little relief. But +since Ted's letter it's been different. I finally got up the courage to +see Dr. Newbridge." + +"Newbridge!" + +"Connor, he's a great man. You should see him too." + +"My mind may have smaller scope outside the System but what's left of it +isn't cracking, Rhoda." Working himself into a spasm of righteous rage, +he stalked out into the garden and tried to convince himself he was +calmly studying the rose bushes' growth. But Sheila and Tony Williams +came down the lane that skirted the garden and, as their eyes moved +haughtily past him, his rage shifted its focus. He came back into the +house and remained in sullen silence. + +Rhoda went on as if there had been no interruption. "I still say Dr. +Newbridge is a great man. He dropped out of the System of his own free +will and that certainly took courage!" + +"He willingly gave up his advantages and privileges?" + +"Yes. And he's explained why to me. He felt it was destroying every +Subscriber's ability to think and that it could not last. Some day we +would be without anything to do our thinking and he wanted out." + +Connor sat down and stared thoughtfully out the window. Max had just +lumbered into the garden and, having unscrewed one hand to replace it +with a flexible spade, was starting on the evening schedule for turning +over the soil at the base of the plants. He would go methodically down +one flower bed, then up the next one, until all had been worked over, +then would start all over again unless ordered to stop. "Are we to end +up the same way?" Connor shuddered. He slapped his knee. "All right, +I'll go with you tomorrow. I've got to see what he's like--a man who'd +voluntarily surrender ninety percent of his powers!" + + * * * * * + +The next morning they rode into the city together and went to the Harker +Building. It was in an area dense with non-telepaths each one showing +that telltale cleft of anxiety in his forehead but briskly going about +his business as if anxiety were actually a liveable quality. Newbridge +had the same look but there was a nonetheless reassuring ease to the way +he greeted them. He was tall and white-haired and his face frequently +assumed an abstracted look as if his mind were reaching far away. + +"You've come here," he said, "for two reasons. The first is +dissatisfaction with your life. More precisely, you're dissatisfied with +your attitude toward life but you wouldn't be willing to put it that +way, not yet. Secondly, you want to know why anyone would willingly +leave the System." + +Connor leaned back in his chair. "That'll do for a starter." + +"Right. Well, there aren't many anomalies like me but we do exist. Most +people outside the System are there because they've been Suspended for +supposed infractions, or they've been put out through guilt by +association, or because they were born into a family already in that +condition. Nothing like that happened to me. From early childhood I was +trained by parents and teachers to discipline the projective potential +of my mind into the System. Like every other paraNormal, I received my +education by tapping Central for contact with information centers and +other minds. But I was a fluke." His dark blue eyes twinkled. +"Biological units are never so standardized that _all_ of them fall +under any system that can be devised. I functioned in this System, true, +but I could imagine my mind existing outside, could see my functioning +_from the outside_. This is terribly rare--most people are limited to +the functions which sustain them. They experience nothing else except +when circumstances force them to. I, though, could see the System was +not all-powerful." + +"Not all-powerful!" Connor exploded. "It got rid of me awfully easily." + +His wife tried to calm him. "Listen, dear, then decide." + +"You're surviving as a pariah, Mr. Newman, aren't you? Your wife tells +me you've even started to study robot controls, valuable knowledge for +the future and personally satisfying now. Millions of people do survive +as outsiders, as do the planetary colonists who only have limited access +so far to social telepathy. The System has built into it defenses +against Subscribers who lack confidence in it--if it didn't it would +collapse. But people _in_ the System are not forced to remain there. +They can _will_ themselves out any time they close their minds to it, as +I did. But they don't want to will themselves out of it--you certainly +didn't--and their comfortable inertia keeps everything going. I think +you have to know a little about its history, a history which never would +have interested you if you were still comfortably inside it." + +He slowly outlined the way it had developed. First those uncertain steps +toward understanding the universally latent powers of telepathy, then +growing chaos as each individual spent most of his time fighting off +unwanted messages. After a period of desperate discomfort a few great +minds, made superhuman by their ability to tap each others' resources, +had devised the Central System Switchboard. Only living units, +delicately poised between rigid order and sheer chaos, could receive +mental messages but this problem had been solved by the molecular +biologists with their synthesized, self-replicating axons, vastly +elongated and cunningly intertwined by the billions. These responded to +every properly-modulated thought wave passing through them and made the +same careful sortings as a human cell absorbing matter from the world. +Then, to make certain this central mind would never become chaotic, +there was programmed into it an automatic rejection of all sceptical +challenges. + +"That was the highest moment of our race," Newbridge sighed. "We had +harnessed infinite complexities to our needs. But the success was too +complete. Ever since then humanity has become more and more dependent on +what was to be essentially a tool and nothing more. Each generation +became lazier and there's no one alive who can keep this Central System +in proper working order." He leaned forward to emphasize his point. "You +see, it's very slowly breaking down. There's a steady accretion of +inefficiency mutations in the axons and that's why more and more +switching mistakes are being made--as in your case." + + * * * + +Connor was dazed by it all. "What's going to be the upshot, I mean, +_how_ is it going to break down?" + +Newbridge threw up his hands. "I don't know--it's probably a long way +off anyway. I guess the most likely thing is that more and more errors +will accumulate and plenty of people will be Suspended just because +Central is developing irrational quirks. Maybe the critical social mass +for change will exist only when more are outside the System than inside. +I suspect when that happens we'll be able to return to _direct_ +telepathic contact. As things are, our projection attempts are always +blocked." A buzzing sound came out of a small black box on the doctor's +desk, startling Connor who in his executive days had received all such +signals directly in his head. "Well, I've another patient waiting so +this will have to be the end of our chat." + +Connor and his wife exchanged glances. He said, "I'd like to come back. +I'll probably have a twenty-hour week so I'll be in town a few days a +week." + +"More than welcome to come again," Newbridge grinned. "Just make the +arrangements with Miss Richards, my nurse." + +When they were in the street Rhoda asked, "Well, what do you think now?" + +"I don't know what to think yet--but I do feel better. Rhoda, would you +mind going home alone? I think I'll find a job right away." + +"Mind?" she laughed. "It's wonderful news!" + +After he left her he wandered around the city awhile. In his paraNormal +days he had never noticed them but it certainly was true that there were +a lot of Suspendeds about. He studied some of them as he went along, +trying to fathom their likes and dislikes by the way they moved and +their expressions. But, unlike the paraNormals, each was different and +it was impossible to see deeply into them. + +Then, as he rounded a corner, he was suddenly face to face with his new +enemy. A large flat park stood before him and there in the middle was a +hundred-story tower of smooth seamless material, the home of the Central +System's brain. There were smaller towers at many points in the world +but this was the most important, capable of receiving on its mile-long +axons, antennas of the very soul itself, every thought projected at it +from any point in the solar system. The housing gleamed blindingly in +the sun of high noon, as perfect as the day it had been completed. That +surface was designed to repel all but the most unusual of the radiation +barrages that could bring on subtle changes in the brain within. The +breakdown, he thought bitterly, would take too many centuries to +consider. + +He turned away and headed into an Employment Exchange. The man behind +the desk there was a Suspended, too, and showed himself to be +sympathetically understanding as soon as he studied the application +form. "ParaNormal until a few months ago," he nodded. "Tough change to +make, I guess." + +Connor managed a little grin. "Maybe I'll be grateful it happened some +day." + +"A curious thought, to say the least." He glanced down the application +again. "Always some kind of work available although there do seem to be +more Suspendeds all the time. Robot repair--that's good! Always a +shortage there." + +So Connor went to work in a large building downtown along with several +hundred other men whose principal duty was overseeing the repair of +robot servitors by other servitors and rectifying any minor errors that +persisted. He was pleased to find that, while some of his fellow workmen +knew much more about the work than he did, there were as many who knew +less. But the most pleasing thing of all was the way they cooperated +with one another. They could not reach directly into each other's minds +but the very denial of this power gave them a sense of common need. + + * * * + +He visited Newbridge once a week and that, too, proved increasingly +helpful. As time went on, he found he was spending less of it regretting +what he had lost. But once in a while a paraNormal came through the +workshop, eyes moving past the Suspendeds as if they did not exist and +the old resentment would return in all its bitterness. And when he +himself did not feel this way he could still sense it in men around him. + +"Perfectly natural way to feel," Rhoda said, "not that it serves any +purpose." + +"It's paraNormal lack of reaction," he tried to explain, "that's what +really bothers me. They don't even bother to notice our hatred because +we have the strength of insects next to theirs. They can all draw on +each others' resources and that totals to infinitely more than any of us +have, even if as individuals they're so much less. The perfect form of +security." + +But for a moment one day that security seemed to be collapsing. Above +the work floor in Connor's factory there was a gallery of small but +luxurious offices in which the executive staff of paraNormals 'worked.' +None of them came in more than two days a week but use of these offices +was rotated among them so all were ordinarily occupied and workers, +going upstairs to the stock depot, could see paraNormals in various +stages of relaxation. Usually the paraNormal kept his feet on a desk +rest and, eyes closed, contemplated incoming entertainment. On rarer +occasions he would be leaning over a document on the desk as his mind +received the proper decision from Central. + +This particular morning Connor was feeling bitterly envious as he went +by the offices. He had already seen seven smugly-similar faces when he +came by Room Eight. Suddenly the face of its occupant contorted in +agony, then the man got up and paced about as if in a trap. Deciding he +had seen more than was good for him, Connor hurried on. But the man in +Nine was acting out the same curious drama. He quickly retraced his +steps, passing one scene of consternation after another, and went back +down to the work floor, wondering what it all meant. + +Soon everybody knew something extraordinary was afoot as all the +paraNormals swarmed noisily onto the runway overlooking the floor. They +were shouting wordless sounds at each other, floundering about as they +did so. Then, with equal suddenness, everything was calm again and, +faces more relaxed, they went back into their offices. + +That evening Connor heard the same story everywhere--for ten minutes all +paraNormals had gone berserk. On the monorail he noticed that, though +still more relaxed than their unwelcome fellows, they no longer exuded +that grating _absolute_ sense of security. No doubt about it--for a few +minutes something had gone wrong, completely wrong, with the Central +System. "I don't like it," Rhoda said. "Let's see Dr. Newbridge +tomorrow." + +"I'll bet it's a good sign." + +Newbridge, though, was also worried when they got to see him. "They're +losing some of their self-confidence," he said, "and that means they're +going to start noticing us. Figure it out, Newman, about one-third the +population of Earth--nobody can get exact figures--is outside the +System. The paraNormals will want to reduce our numbers if more +breakdowns take place. I'll have to go into hiding soon." + +"But why you of all people?" Connor protested. + +"Because I and a few thousand others like me represent not only an +alternative way of life--all Suspendeds do that--but we possess more +intensive knowledge for rehabilitating society after Central's collapse. +That collapse may come much sooner than we've been expecting. When it +does we're going to have enormous hordes of paras milling around, +helplessly waiting to learn how to think for themselves again. Well, +when we finally reach the telepath stage next time we'll have to manage +it better." He took out an envelope. "If anything happens to me, this +contains the names of some people you're to contact." + +"Why don't you come to our place now?" asked Rhoda. "We'll still be able +to hold it for a few more months." + +"Can't go yet, too many things to clear up. But maybe later." He rose +and extended his hand to them. "Anyway it's a kind--and brave--offer." + +"Sounds overly melodramatic to me," Connor said when they were outside. +"Who'd want to harm a psychiatric worker with no knowledge except what's +in his head and his personal library?" + + * * * + +But he stopped harping on the point when they reached the monorail +station. Three Suspendeds, obviously better educated than most, were +being led away by a large group of paraNormals. The paraNormals had +their smug expressions back but there was a strange gleam of +determination in their eyes. "Sometimes life itself gets overly +melodramatic," Rhoda said nervously. + +The possible fate of these arrested men haunted him all the way home as +did the hostile stares of the people in the monorail car. At home, +though, there was the momentary consolation of a pair of letters from +the boys. There was little information in them but they did at least +convey in every line love for their parents. + +But even this consolation did not last long. Why, Connor muttered to +himself, did they have to wait for letters when telephone and radio +systems could have eased their loneliness so much more effectively? +Because the paras did not need such systems and their needs were the +only ones that mattered! His fingers itched to achieve something more +substantial than the work, now childishly routine, that he was doing at +the factory. Just from studying Max he knew he could devise such +workable communication systems. But all that was idle daydreaming--it +wouldn't be in his lifetime. + +The next morning Rhoda insisted they go back into the city to try once +more to persuade Newbridge to leave. When they arrived at the Harker +Building it seemed strangely quiet. The few people who were about kept +avoiding each others' glances and they found themselves alone in the +elevator to the 96th level. But Miss Richards, the doctor's +nurse-secretary, was standing in the corridor as they got out. She was +trembling and found it difficult to talk. "Don't--don't go in," she +stuttered. "No help now." + +He pushed past her, took one glance at the fire-charred consulting room +where a few blackened splinters of bone remained and turned away, +leading the two women to the elevator. At first Miss Richards did not +want to go but he forced her to come along. "You have to get away from +here--can't do any good for him now." + +She sucked in air desperately, blinked back her tears and nodded. "There +was another ten-minute breakdown this morning. A lot of paraNormals +panicked and a vigilante pack came here to fire-blast the Doctor. They +said I'd be next if things got any worse." + +Connor pinched his forehead to hold back his own anguish, then pulled +out a sheet of paper. "Dr. Newbridge was afraid of something like this. +He gave me a list of names." + +"I know, Mr. Newman, I know them by heart." + +"Shouldn't we try to contact one of them?" + +As they came out into the street, she stopped and thought a moment. +"Crane would be the easiest to reach. He's an untitled psychiatrist and +one of the alternate leaders for the underground." + +"Underground?" + +"Oh, they tried to be prepared for every eventual--" + +"It's impossible!" Rhoda broke in. She had been looking up and down the +great avenue as they talked. "There isn't one person in the street, not +one!" + +An abandoned robot cab stood at the curb and he threw open the door. +"Come on, get in! Something's happening. Miss Richards, set it for this +Crane's address." + +The cab started to shoot uptown, turning a corner into another deserted +boulevard. As it skirted the great Park, he pointed at Central Tower. +There seemed to be a slight crack in the smooth surface half way up but, +as a moment's mist engulfed the tower, it looked flawless again. Then +all the mist was gone and the crack was back, a little larger than +before. + + * * * + +Connor leaned forward and set the cab for top speed as they rounded into +the straight-away of another uptown street. Occasionally they caught +glimpses of frightened faces, clumped in lobby entrances, and once two +bodies came flying out of a window far ahead. "They're killing our +people everywhere," moaned the nurse. + +As they approached the crushed forms, Connor slowed down a little. +"They're dressed too well--what's left of them. They're paraNormals!" + +A minute later they were at the large apartment block where Crane lived. +They entered the building through a lobby jammed with more silent +people. All were Suspendeds. + +At first Crane did not want to let the trio in but when he recognized +Newbridge's nurse he unlocked the heavily-bolted door. He was a +massively-built man with dark eyes set deeply beneath a jutting brow and +the eyes did not blink as Miss Richards told him what had happened. +"We'll miss him," he said, then turned abruptly on Connor. "Have you any +skills?" + +"Robotics," he answered. + +The great head nodded as Connor told of his experience at work and on +Max. "Good, we're going to need people like you for rebuilding." He +pulled a radio sender and receiver from a cabinet and held an earphone +close to his temple, continuing to nod. Then he put it down again. "I +know what you're going to say--illegal, won't work and all that. Well, a +few of us have been waiting for the chance to build our own +communication web and now we can do it." + +"I just want to know why you keep mentioning _our_ rebuilding. They're +more likely to destroy all of us in their present mood." + +"_Us?_" He took them to the window and pointed toward the harbor where +thousands of black specks were tumbling into the water. "They're +destroying themselves! Some jumping from buildings but most pouring +toward the sea, a kind of oceanic urge to escape completely from +themselves, to bury themselves in something infinitely bigger than their +separate hollow beings. Before they were more like contented robots. Now +they're more like suicidal lemmings because they can't exist without +this common brain to which they've given so little and from which +they've taken so much." + +Connor squared his shoulders. "We'll have our work cut out for us. Dr. +Newbridge saw it all coming, you did too." + +"Not quite," Crane sighed. "We assumed that at the time of complete +breakdown the System would open up, throwing all the Subscribers out of +it, leaving them disconnected from each other and waiting for our help. +But it worked out in just the opposite manner!" + +"You mean that the System is staying closed as it breaks down? Like a +telephone exchange in which all the lines remained connected and every +call went to all telephones." + +"Exactly," Crane replied. + +"I don't understand this technical talk," Rhoda protested, watching in +hypnotized horror as the speck swarm swelled ever larger in the sea. + +"I'll put it this way," Crane explained. "Their only hope was to have +time to develop the desire for release from the System as it died. But +they are dying _inside_ it. You see, Mrs. Newman, every thought in every +paraNormal's head, every notion, every image, no matter how stupidly +trivial, is now pouring into every other paraNormal's head. They're +over-communicating to the point where there's nothing left to +communicate but death itself!" + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ January 1963. + 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. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cerebrum, by Albert Teichner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CEREBRUM *** + +***** This file should be named 26761.txt or 26761.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/7/6/26761/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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