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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/29832-h.zip b/29832-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0bf1735 --- /dev/null +++ b/29832-h.zip diff --git a/29832-h/29832-h.htm b/29832-h/29832-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6c64f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/29832-h/29832-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1580 @@ +<!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 Second Sight, by Basil Wells + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: right; font-weight: normal; line-height: 2em;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .bk1 {margin: 1em auto 3em; border-top: solid 2px; border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bk2 {float: left; width: 15em; margin: 1em 2em 1em 0;} + .pr1 {line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 4em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Second Sight, by Basil Eugene Wells + +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: Second Sight + +Author: Basil Eugene Wells + +Release Date: August 28, 2009 [EBook #29832] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECOND SIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><p><i><small>Basil Wells, who lives in Pennsylvania, writes that he has been doing +research concerning the keelboat age prior to and following the War of +1812 on the "locally famous section of portage-keelboat-rafting stream from +Waterford down to Pittsburgh," turning from this to this grimmer future.</small></i></p></div> + +<div class="bk2"><h1><b>second<br /> +sight</b></h1> + +<h2><small><i>by BASIL WELLS</i></small></h2> + +<p class="pr1"><big><b>Then his hand caught an arm and he +exerted his full strength. The entire +arm tore away from its shoulder....</b></big></p></div> + +<p><span class="dcap">His fingers</span> moved over +the modest packet of bills the +invisible rockhound had handed +to him. He smiled through +the eternal night that was his +own personal hell. Duggan's +Hades.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Pete," he said +gratefully. "Here, have a box +of Conmos."</p> + +<p>His sensitized fingers +found the cigars, handed over +a box, and he heard the nervous +scuff of the other's +shoes.</p> + +<p>"This eight thousand means +I can see again—for a while +at least. Take 'em! It's little +enough."</p> + +<p>"Look, Duggan. I get eight +hundred for selling you the +ticket on the breakthrough +time. Keep the cigars. You +need the dough."</p> + +<p>Feet pounded, thumping +into swift inaudibility along +the 10th Level's yielding +walkway. His fingers caressed +the crisp notes that his lucky +guess on the 80th Level's tunnel +juncture had won for him, +plus the ten dollars, that this +meager business could ill afford, +it had cost to join the +rockhounds' pool....</p> + +<p>But now he was free. His +own man. He was released +from the calculated economies +of his wife. Janith knew +to within a few dollars what +his newsstand on the 10th +Level should make. He had +never been able to save the +necessary thousand dollar deposit, +and ten dollars an hour, +that a rented super mech +cost. And she would never +listen to his pleas that he +must see again—if only for an +hour....</p> + +<p>"Waste ten or twenty dollars +for nothing," she would +storm. "We have all your hospital +bills to pay. I need new +clothes. Your stock in the +stands is too small."</p> + +<p>What she left unspoken +was the fact that she must +secretly have hated his engineering +career in the deep +levels under Appalachia, and +that she was dedicated to preventing +his possible return....</p> + +<p>After three years of blindness, +under his wife's firm +dominance, Duggan felt only +hate for her. With this sudden +fortune he could be independent. +He could divorce +her. He could rent a super +mech—even return to work in +the ever-deepening levels of +Appalachia City!</p> + +<p>First of all he must see +again.</p> + +<p>He closed up the news-and-cigar +stand. With his cane's +sensitive radar button pulsating +beneath his fingers he +hurried along the walkway toward +the nearest super mech +showroom. It was less than +three blocks....</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Be sure that all the contacts +are against the skull +and neck," the salesman +was saying, his voice muffled +by the mentrol hood covering +Duggan's head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Of course." Duggan's impatience +made his voice +shrill. "I've used mentrols before +when inspecting cave-ins +and such."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir." The man's +voice was relieved. Probably +he hated his job as much as +Duggan hated his cigars and +news.</p> + +<p>Duggan tripped the switches +and heard the building +hum of power. An odd sort +of vibration that his mind +told him was purely emotional, +seemed to be permeating +his whole body.</p> + +<p>Abruptly the transition +was complete. He was no +longer lying on the padded +bench beneath the mentrol +hood. He was standing erect, +conscious of the retaining +clamps that held him upright.</p> + +<p>He gulped a deep draught +of air into the artificial lungs +that did not need oxygen and +his mechanical pulse quickened.</p> + +<p>His eyes slitted open, +drinking in by degrees the +mirrored mentrol booth and +the pallid, fat, little man +sitting beside his hooded +body. He stepped out of the +clamps, his sharpened senses +aware of softness, and hardness, +and scent, and color that +human weakness so often +blurs.</p> + +<p>This super mech that was +linked directly with his brain +by twin mentrols was tall, +chunky and gray of eye and +hair. In a general way it was +a duplicate of his own body, +but there was no facial resemblance.</p> + +<p>"How do you like it, sir?" +The fat smile was empty, almost +apologetic. "We have +younger, more handsome +models...."</p> + +<p>"Well enough." Duggan +started donning the clothing +that he had removed. "I'll +want the mech for five, possibly +ten, hours."</p> + +<p>"I'll make out the slip for +ten hours, sir. We'll refund +any balance due you. But after +ten hours ..."</p> + +<p>"I know. You must report +the mech missing. But with +my body here you can't lose."</p> + +<p>The salesman smiled enigmatically. +"We <i>have</i>," he said.</p> + +<p>Duggan shrugged. He was +impatient to be outside, +feasting his starved vision on +the stores and parks of the +various upper levels. He +might even take a lift to the +Outside. It had been fifteen +years ago, while their youngest +son was a baby, that they +had taken a weekend motor +trip to the great scar that had +been Manhattan. He remembered +the vastness and the +rawness of the uncontrolled +atmosphere. It had been beautiful +but also a bit terrifying. +It was a ten years delayed +honeymoon....</p> + +<p>And now Merle was in the +rocket corps and Janith and +he were like strangers.</p> + +<p>Duggan zippered shut his +gray-checked jacket and left +the booth. He walked slowly, +savoring every picture of the +crowded passenger strips beyond +the walkway, and of the +fairy spans of moving walkways +crossing the travel +strips. The soft glow of the +level's ceiling, fifty feet +above, illuminated the double +rows of apartment and store +fronts.</p> + +<p>It was good to see again.</p> + +<p>Every twelfth section of +the level was a park. The +greenery was fresher and +brighter than he remembered; +the tree boles and the branches +were marvels of grace and +strength. He strolled along +the paths, impatient to be +moving on, but aching with +the emerald beauty around +him....</p> + +<p>He took the lifts to the upper +levels. He rode the swiftest +walkways and travel +strips, his eyes drinking in +the long-hidden sights. From +an observation dome he +looked out over the wooded +mountain slopes of Outside, +and saw the telltale ridging +of rock and earth that +marked the scores of hidden +vehicular tubes linking Appalachia +with its sister cities +of Ondack and Smoky.</p> + +<p>His five hours stretched +into seven, and then, eight. +Slowly a determination to +keep these eyes, at whatever +cost, was building within him. +Always before he had agreed +when Janith decided. He had +been so dependent on her +those first terrible weeks. But +now, with this money from +the breakthrough pool, he +could rent a super mech—live +as a man should live!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Duggan left the employment booth +on the 20th Level, +a badge on his jacket and a +half-grin on his full super +mech's lips.</p> + +<p>On the records he was now +Al Duggan, a second cousin +from Montana. He knew that +nothing in the world could +bring Al further east than +Ozarka. Just to be safe, however, +he decided to drop Al +a line to explain.</p> + +<p>As far as his wife was concerned +Merle Duggan was +gone. Dead and buried. She +could get a divorce if she +wanted and marry that podgy, +pink-skulled boss of hers at +the advertising agency....</p> + +<p>"Five hundred a month," +Duggan told himself. "Two-fifty +for the rental, fifty for +insurance—maybe fifty or so +for spare parts—that leaves +about a hundred and fifty for +me."</p> + +<p>He was starting at the bottom +as a rock hog, a mucker, +a clean-up man in the newly +opened 80th Level. And his +wages were the minimum +union scale.</p> + +<p>He took the lift down to +the 79th Level, flashed his +new badge at the guards, and +took the gritty freight lift to +the lowest level of the sprawling +metropolis....</p> + +<p>"You Gaines Short?" he +asked the lanky man bent +over the littered desk in the +rough plastic bubble that +served as an office.</p> + +<p>Sharp black eyes studied +him—noted the bright new +olive badge, and the creased, +obviously new, coveralls.</p> + +<p>"You're the new rock hog?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Al Duggan."</p> + +<p>"Any experience?"</p> + +<p>"Montana—mining. Had +some engineering. Worked in +Ozarka on tunnels."</p> + +<p>The lank man nodded, expressionless.</p> + +<p>"You'll hog for a while. +Later we'll see.... Any relation +to the Duggan we lost +a couple of years back?"</p> + +<p>"We're cousins."</p> + +<p>"Tough he couldn't see his +way clear to try again." +Short's lips thinned. "He may +snap out of it yet.... We +could use a few more like +him."</p> + +<p>"I—I'll talk with him," +promised Duggan.</p> + +<p>He fought back the words +that wanted to pour out. +Whether it was a strange +sense of loyalty to his wife, +or a stubborn sort of pride, +he could not bring himself to +speak ill of her.</p> + +<p>"A super mech is not so +bad, Duggan." Short flexed a +skinny arm. "I've worn this +one since a rock slide crushed +my back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Duggan agreed.</p> + +<p>Short scribbled on a form, +handed it to Duggan.</p> + +<p>"Take this down to Ted +Rusche, he's the short, dark +fellow bossing the rock hogs. +He'll see you're issued your +tools."</p> + +<p>Duggan nodded and turned +away.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In the super mech hostel, +on the 79th Level, +Duggan shared a compartment +of six sleeping and +mentrol plates. All of the +others were rockhounds, and +three of them worked in his +own clean-up gang. His immediate +pusher, Ted Rusche, +was a legless, dark and hairy +man, much like his working +super mech. Waide and Myham, +the first tall and once-handsome, +and the latter, +bony and scarred, were both +paralytics.</p> + +<p>Duggan's share of the attendants' +salary amounted to +another fifty dollars monthly. +He was not growing too +wealthy!</p> + +<p>"And how do you like it +after three weeks, Al?" +Rusche demanded from where +he balanced on the cushioned +sleeping plate.</p> + +<p>Duggan stretched cramped +limbs and turned his sightless +face toward Rusche's +voice.</p> + +<p>"Seems good to be working +again, Ted," he said.</p> + +<p>"This's your last day with +us, Al. Orders from Short. +He's transferring you. Office +work I guess, or maybe he's +making you a foreman."</p> + +<p>Rusche's voice was curious.</p> + +<p>"He musta found out something +about you, Al. S'funny +but you look awful familiar +to me too. And you know +more about tunnels than you +let on. How about leveling +with a guy?"</p> + +<p>"Not now." Duggan was +thinking of the other listening +men. "After we've +cleaned-up and eaten. See +you in the park outside the +hostel."</p> + +<p>"Right."</p> + +<p>Duggan's thoughts were +muddled. Fingerprints probably; +at every super mech +hostel all guests were printed +and taped, and possibly +through his similar name. +Short must have been suspicious +from the first. And if +he had come to the hostel to +see Duggan's mentrol-hooded +face, while Duggan worked, +his identification must have +been sure.</p> + +<p>Short knew that he was +Merle Duggan, and before +too long Janith, and all his +friends—if he had any left +now—would know he had +been in hiding here.</p> + +<p>He hurried to eat and get +ready for another period under +the mentrol's hooded +probes.</p> + +<p>Less than half an hour later +he strode out of the hostel, +his super mech gleaming +and clean and his jacket and +shorts newly pressed. He met +Rusche in the park and they +headed for the lift to the upper +level.</p> + +<p>En route to the 10th Level +he explained.</p> + +<p>"I thought you looked like +somebody I should know." +Rusche scrubbed at his +pseudo beard's coarseness. +"Accident left you sort of +psychoed, huh? So you was +scared of the levels? Had to +try coming back with a false +name?"</p> + +<p>Duggan gulped. It made a +believable sort of yarn. He +hadn't taken time to concoct +a story.... Why not?</p> + +<p>"Something like that. I +guess I was badly shook, +Ted."</p> + +<p>"So now you go back to being +engineer at a thousand or +so, and I'm still a rock hog." +Rusche shrugged. "Less +headaches anyhow."</p> + +<p>They stepped off the lift +at the 10th Level and took +the high speed strip toward +the business section. Duggan +had it in his mind to see Janith +and tell her she had failed—that +he was his own man +again. She would be at the office. +He would tell her off, +and leave. And then he'd +show Rusche some of the +high spots of the low-number +levels of Appalachia.</p> + +<p>The darkness came about +them swiftly. To Duggan it +was like a return to the +nightmare of sightlessness. +Under their feet the racing +strip faltered and stalled. +They were thrown off their +feet and sprawled on the fiber-ribbed +squares of the +checkerboarded way's surface.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" demanded +Rusche.</p> + +<p>He fought back the panic. +This was not true blindness.</p> + +<p>"Criminals. They set off a +few dozen 'midnight' bombs +and try to rob banks or stores. +We get these attacks quite often."</p> + +<p>"Last long?"</p> + +<p>"Emergency ventilation +will clear it out in a +couple of minutes. And the +Squads will have them in +half an hour. They never get +very far."</p> + +<p>They sat close together, to +wait. From the walkways and +stalled strips shrieks and +frightened cries sounded. The +sounds seemed to increase +from behind them.</p> + +<p>"This's my first time above +the Twentieth Level," +Rusche confided. "Thirty-five +years and I never saw +the Outside. I don't think I +like it up this high."</p> + +<p>"It will be over in a little +while, Ted. Probably just a +group of teen-agers looking +for thrills." He laughed drily. +"They'll end up with blanked +memories and new faces like +those who tried before them."</p> + +<p>"Listen," muttered Rusche.</p> + +<p>In the lightlessness, and +above the wailing of the terrified +people about them, +they could hear the scuff of +running feet. They were +coming closer at a swift pace. +In a moment the runners +would collide with them!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Duggan's years of blindness +had given him the +ability to judge and gauge +distance from sound. At the +proper instant he pounced, his +hands clamping around a +body, and a second body +crashed into the leader. They +went down in a tangle.</p> + +<p>He heard Rusche shouting +and fists battering and the +tinkle of metal or crystal on +metal. He was fighting desperately, +his super mech's +strength overtaxed. The unseen +man's hands tore at his +neck and shoulder, ripping +away the synthetic flesh and +baring the complex framework +beneath.</p> + +<p>Then his hand caught an +arm and he exerted the full +strength of his mech power, +until now carefully subdued. +The entire arm tore away +from its shoulder. And yet +the wounded man continued +to attack.</p> + +<p>It was only then that he +realized this must be a super +mech. The criminals must +have stolen one or two super +mechs and were using them +in this robbery.</p> + +<p>He was ruthless, then. He +wrenched away the other +arm. He battered at the unseen +torso. The feet of the +desperate mech smashed at +his knees and thighs, staggering +him. Then he bore the +armless torso of the mech +backward and fell upon it.</p> + +<p>The mech went limp, its +mentrols blanked by the distant +criminal who controlled +it.</p> + +<p>Duggan came to his feet, +listening for the sound of +battle between Rusche and +his captive. It came from his +right, faintly. About ten feet +distant, he judged it. And +now the emergency vents +were clearing the darkness +from the travel strips. Twilight +faded and vision replaced +it.</p> + +<p>Rusche was sitting astride +a prone body, and even as +Duggan reached his side the +struggling criminal's arms +and legs went limp. Rusche +grunted and started to stand.</p> + +<p>"A super mech!" he said. +He rubbed thoughtfully at +his disarranged nose and +cheeks, smoothing them +again into their normal contours. +"What about yours?"</p> + +<p>"The same."</p> + +<p>"Here's their loot, anyhow," +Rusche said, holding +up a small gray plastine bag.</p> + +<p>"Drop it, Ted. We better +fade out of here before the +Squads arrive, too. They +might think we're—"</p> + +<p>"Not on your life, Al. We +should get a reward. Pics on +the newswires and tapes."</p> + +<p>Duggan shrugged and +smoothed at his own neck +and face. Four red-uniformed +men, their heads hidden by +ovoid gas helmets, came hissing +toward them along the +travel strip. They rode single-wheeled +cycles and their +rapid-fire expoders were +trained on them.</p> + +<p>"Careful now, Ted. Let me +do the talking. They like to +use paralysis needles and +question later."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"I've lived up here."</p> + +<p>The unicycles braked to a +halt.</p> + +<p>"Step over here, slow," ordered +one of the Squadmen.</p> + +<p>Duggan obeyed, careful to +keep his arms rigid. Of +course paralysis needles +would cause this mech body +no damage, but why make +trouble? They <i>had</i> more destructive +weapons.</p> + +<p>"Ran into us," he said +mildly. "We figured something +wrong—honest men +would be standing where +they were. We stopped +them."</p> + +<p>The four members of the +Squad were inspecting the +damage.</p> + +<p>"I guess you did," one of +them said, admiringly. "You +must be super mechs too?"</p> + +<p>"That's right. I'm Duggan, +Al—Merle Duggan, and this +is my friend, Ted Rusche. +We work on the 80th Level—rockhounds."</p> + +<p>"Duggan?" The man's voice +was suddenly strained. "Maybe +you're not so clear as you +pretend. A woman got in the +way by accident, supposedly, +of their getaway from the +bank. Her name was Duggan +too."</p> + +<p>Duggan started forward, remembered +the ugly expoder +muzzles and backed away.</p> + +<p>"Was her name Janith?" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Radio report didn't say. +Contact them, Joe," he told +one of the other faceless men.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't be you hired +these two to kill her and pretend +the robbery?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Of course not."</p> + +<p>One of the Squad mumbled +something. Duggan's interrogator +dropped his weapon's +muzzle.</p> + +<p>"Woman twisted her ankle +trying to get out of the way, +and fell. Received a cut on her +temple and is being taken to +the hospital. Accidental all +right."</p> + +<p>"But her name."</p> + +<p>"Janith."</p> + +<p>Duggan felt a strange mingling +of anger and of tenderness. +The anger was directed +toward the criminals.</p> + +<p>"Could I go to her now? +Rusche can fill you in on details."</p> + +<p>"It's not—oh, all right. +Regulations aren't too strict +on these levels. She your +sister?"</p> + +<p>"Wife." He turned to +Rusche.</p> + +<p>"See you at the lift in +about an hour," he said and +headed for the advertising +agency where Janith was employed.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"We haven't been informed +as to her whereabouts +yet, Mr. Duggan," the receptionist +at Duffey's offices +said coldly.</p> + +<p>Duggan glared down into +the carefully pretty face, the +solar-lamp tan and the knife-smoothed +wrinkles.</p> + +<p>"Now see here, Blanche," he +said, and spluttered impotently.</p> + +<p>"See here yourself, Merle +Duggan," the woman spat +back sharply. "After all! You +come running back just because +she's hurt. Why didn't +you come back like this a +year ago?"</p> + +<p>"I was with her a year ago."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't you. You +didn't have guts enough to +rent a super mech and go +back to your old job." The +woman laughed. "Janith tried +to insult and needle you into +being a man again. And you +just crawled."</p> + +<p>"That's a lie," Duggan +cried. "I begged her to let me +go back. She wouldn't listen."</p> + +<p>"That's what you say now. +You don't want to remember. +I know. I was here all the +time. Many a time Janith has +come to the office, crying, +and told me how hopeless it +seemed."</p> + +<p>"You're—you're inventing +all this, Blanche," he accused.</p> + +<p>"I wish I were. Remember, +Merle. Think. Be honest with +yourself." Blanche put her +nervous, blue-veined hand on +his arm. A detached part of +his brain noted how bony and +brittle her hand was.</p> + +<p>"She's loved you all these +years, Merle." The tiny hand +dug into his jacket sleeve. "To +make you well again she +risked losing your love—and +she lost."</p> + +<p>Blanche must be all of fifty, +perhaps fifty-five, the analytical +portion of his mind +noted. Old-maidish in many +ways, despite her five ex-husbands; +yet so sentimental—</p> + +<p>"It's all part of her scheme. +Pretend to be the patient, +long-suffering wife and then +secretly forbid me to go back +to the deep levels again! You +don't know!"</p> + +<p>The woman's tired eyes +sparkled green. Her little +fist cracked against his chest. +She turned half away from +him.</p> + +<p>"But I do know. I sat up +with you many nights, while +Janith got a few hours of +rest. You were like a baby, +slobbering and whimpering in +your sleep. The days were +worse. You were drunk and +shouting and weeping. To +you blindness was the end."</p> + +<p>Merle gulped. He could remember +nothing of the sort. +Only the accident and awakening +in the hospital to darkness.... But +there was a +strange blankness, a hiatus +in his memories, that ended +with his hated job in the cigar +stand. He could not recall +his first day there or—</p> + +<p>Could Blanche be telling +the truth?</p> + +<p>"You—spiteful old hag!" +he shouted at her, and rushed +out of the offices.</p> + +<p>His feet pounded at the +yielding softness of the walkway. +The hospital was less +than two blocks distant—no +need to take a travel strip—and +he needed the automatic +motion of walking to steady +his thoughts.</p> + +<p>The forgotten months. +Four months, or was it five +months, ago, he was in the +cigar-and-news stand. That +was the day when an old acquaintance +from the lower +levels sold him the chance on +the 80th Level's breakthrough.</p> + +<p>That night he had begged +Janith to let him rent a super +mech. And she had scoffed +at his wastefulness. Yet, now +that he remembered it again, +there had been a wistful note +of hope in her voice.</p> + +<p>Could she have been trying +to fan his faint desire for +sight into something more +powerful and consuming—so +he would become again the +engineering Duggan he had +been?</p> + +<p>He had surrendered then, as +he did many times afterward. +Sullenly, yes, but he had surrendered. +Perhaps she knew +he was not ready for sight. +When he refused to obey her, +when he insisted on hiring a +super mech—then, perhaps, +she would know the cure was +complete.</p> + +<p>But that was only theory. +He remembered her clearly +expressed hatred for the +mucking, lower-level life of a +rockhound. Always his hatred +for her grew as she spoke of +his work....</p> + +<p>She had never expressed +herself in that way before the +accident. She had gone with +him on many exploratory +trips into the caverns that the +lower levels of Appalachia +cut across. And she had enjoyed +the experience—he was +sure of that.</p> + +<p>Remember! Think back. +Back before the cigars and +papers. Back to the days and +months after the accident. It +hurt to think. His temples, +here on the mentrol-hooded +sleeping plate, were pounding +irregularly....</p> + +<p>Huddling in a bed, knees +drawn up and head tucked in, +trying to gain somehow the +safety that an infant once +knew. Janith's voice, soft and +understanding, and the acid +of panic that set his lips to +mumbling meaningless jargon....</p> + +<p>Why had Janith not sent +him to the medical centers for +mental clearing and re-education +as was done with all cases +of psychoed abnormals? The +answer was with him. She +loved him as he was, Merle +Duggan—not as a new personality +in her husband's +body.</p> + +<p>Artificial amnesia automatically +dissolves all marriage +partnerships. She had +not wanted that. Instead she +had three years of hell....</p> + +<p>Striking out at emptiness, +his fists contacting soft flesh, +and the pained cry, swiftly +suppressed, of Janith. His +voice, cursing and high-pitched, +as he fought the +straps that now were restraining +his sightless body. The +bite of a needle and gradual +dissolution of feeling....</p> + +<p>Memory was coming reluctantly +back to Duggan. This +was not the self-imagined visionings +of an abused helpless +man. These memories were +true. He had fought against +all mental therapy and turned +from those who loved him.</p> + +<p>Now the hospital entrance +was before him. He paused for +a moment and then went inside. +The automatic hush of +the door shutting out the +muted street sounds was all too +familiar.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Janith Duggan," he +told the crisply white woman +at the desk.</p> + +<p>"Room 212, second floor."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He used the steps in +preference to the lift. He +needed more time to think—would +he ever find enough +time?</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly, now, Janith's +love for him was dead. His +desertion of her must have +finished the dissolution of +their marriage. It had been +cowardly—he should have +faced her and declared what +he was going to do and what +she could do.</p> + +<p>These past weeks, working +with the rock hogs, had been +invaluable. They had restored +something of his self-esteem.</p> + +<p>The second floor. Pastel +bare walls and soft voices. +The odors. 208 and opposite, +209. A wheelchair, propelled +by a timidly smiling white-haired +woman. He nodded +automatically.</p> + +<p>210. What could he say to +her? That he was sorry she +was hurt and that he was such +a fool? And then back to the +super mech hostel and the +five other cripples who shared +the room?</p> + +<p>212. The door ajar. A private +room. He was glad of +that. The headache was more +violent now—there was a bitter +taste in his mouth as his +super mech entered the room.</p> + +<p>She was alone, looking tiny +and helpless on the high bed. +To him, after three years, she +was more beautiful than he +remembered, even though the +pure whiteness of her once-graying +hair startled him.</p> + +<p>"Janith," he said uncertainly.</p> + +<p>She turned her head, curiosity +in her expression, and +then understanding came. +There was no mistaking the +warmth and welcome that +came into her eyes. She held +out her arms.</p> + +<p>"Duggy," she commanded, +"come here."</p> + +<p>And he knew then, without +ever being told, that his +revolt and flight had all +been part of the therapy, and +Janith had known all the time +where he had been....</p> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Fantastic Universe</i> September 1957. +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 the Project Gutenberg EBook of Second Sight, by Basil Eugene Wells + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECOND SIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 29832-h.htm or 29832-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/3/29832/ + +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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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: Second Sight + +Author: Basil Eugene Wells + +Release Date: August 28, 2009 [EBook #29832] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECOND SIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _Basil Wells, who lives in Pennsylvania, writes that he has been + doing research concerning the keelboat age prior to and following + the War of 1812 on the "locally famous section of + portage-keelboat-rafting stream from Waterford down to Pittsburgh," + turning from this to this grimmer future._ + + + second + sight + + _by BASIL WELLS_ + + + Then his hand caught an arm and he + exerted his full strength. The entire + arm tore away from its shoulder.... + + +His fingers moved over the modest packet of bills the invisible +rockhound had handed to him. He smiled through the eternal night that +was his own personal hell. Duggan's Hades. + +"Thanks, Pete," he said gratefully. "Here, have a box of Conmos." + +His sensitized fingers found the cigars, handed over a box, and he heard +the nervous scuff of the other's shoes. + +"This eight thousand means I can see again--for a while at least. Take +'em! It's little enough." + +"Look, Duggan. I get eight hundred for selling you the ticket on the +breakthrough time. Keep the cigars. You need the dough." + +Feet pounded, thumping into swift inaudibility along the 10th Level's +yielding walkway. His fingers caressed the crisp notes that his lucky +guess on the 80th Level's tunnel juncture had won for him, plus the ten +dollars, that this meager business could ill afford, it had cost to join +the rockhounds' pool.... + +But now he was free. His own man. He was released from the calculated +economies of his wife. Janith knew to within a few dollars what his +newsstand on the 10th Level should make. He had never been able to save +the necessary thousand dollar deposit, and ten dollars an hour, that a +rented super mech cost. And she would never listen to his pleas that he +must see again--if only for an hour.... + +"Waste ten or twenty dollars for nothing," she would storm. "We have all +your hospital bills to pay. I need new clothes. Your stock in the stands +is too small." + +What she left unspoken was the fact that she must secretly have hated +his engineering career in the deep levels under Appalachia, and that she +was dedicated to preventing his possible return.... + +After three years of blindness, under his wife's firm dominance, Duggan +felt only hate for her. With this sudden fortune he could be +independent. He could divorce her. He could rent a super mech--even +return to work in the ever-deepening levels of Appalachia City! + +First of all he must see again. + +He closed up the news-and-cigar stand. With his cane's sensitive radar +button pulsating beneath his fingers he hurried along the walkway toward +the nearest super mech showroom. It was less than three blocks.... + + * * * * * + +"Be sure that all the contacts are against the skull and neck," the +salesman was saying, his voice muffled by the mentrol hood covering +Duggan's head and shoulders. + +"Of course." Duggan's impatience made his voice shrill. "I've used +mentrols before when inspecting cave-ins and such." + +"Very well, sir." The man's voice was relieved. Probably he hated his +job as much as Duggan hated his cigars and news. + +Duggan tripped the switches and heard the building hum of power. An odd +sort of vibration that his mind told him was purely emotional, seemed to +be permeating his whole body. + +Abruptly the transition was complete. He was no longer lying on the +padded bench beneath the mentrol hood. He was standing erect, conscious +of the retaining clamps that held him upright. + +He gulped a deep draught of air into the artificial lungs that did not +need oxygen and his mechanical pulse quickened. + +His eyes slitted open, drinking in by degrees the mirrored mentrol booth +and the pallid, fat, little man sitting beside his hooded body. He +stepped out of the clamps, his sharpened senses aware of softness, and +hardness, and scent, and color that human weakness so often blurs. + +This super mech that was linked directly with his brain by twin mentrols +was tall, chunky and gray of eye and hair. In a general way it was a +duplicate of his own body, but there was no facial resemblance. + +"How do you like it, sir?" The fat smile was empty, almost apologetic. +"We have younger, more handsome models...." + +"Well enough." Duggan started donning the clothing that he had removed. +"I'll want the mech for five, possibly ten, hours." + +"I'll make out the slip for ten hours, sir. We'll refund any balance due +you. But after ten hours ..." + +"I know. You must report the mech missing. But with my body here you +can't lose." + +The salesman smiled enigmatically. "We _have_," he said. + +Duggan shrugged. He was impatient to be outside, feasting his starved +vision on the stores and parks of the various upper levels. He might +even take a lift to the Outside. It had been fifteen years ago, while +their youngest son was a baby, that they had taken a weekend motor trip +to the great scar that had been Manhattan. He remembered the vastness +and the rawness of the uncontrolled atmosphere. It had been beautiful +but also a bit terrifying. It was a ten years delayed honeymoon.... + +And now Merle was in the rocket corps and Janith and he were like +strangers. + +Duggan zippered shut his gray-checked jacket and left the booth. He +walked slowly, savoring every picture of the crowded passenger strips +beyond the walkway, and of the fairy spans of moving walkways crossing +the travel strips. The soft glow of the level's ceiling, fifty feet +above, illuminated the double rows of apartment and store fronts. + +It was good to see again. + +Every twelfth section of the level was a park. The greenery was fresher +and brighter than he remembered; the tree boles and the branches were +marvels of grace and strength. He strolled along the paths, impatient to +be moving on, but aching with the emerald beauty around him.... + +He took the lifts to the upper levels. He rode the swiftest walkways and +travel strips, his eyes drinking in the long-hidden sights. From an +observation dome he looked out over the wooded mountain slopes of +Outside, and saw the telltale ridging of rock and earth that marked the +scores of hidden vehicular tubes linking Appalachia with its sister +cities of Ondack and Smoky. + +His five hours stretched into seven, and then, eight. Slowly a +determination to keep these eyes, at whatever cost, was building within +him. Always before he had agreed when Janith decided. He had been so +dependent on her those first terrible weeks. But now, with this money +from the breakthrough pool, he could rent a super mech--live as a man +should live! + + * * * * * + +Duggan left the employment booth on the 20th Level, a badge on his +jacket and a half-grin on his full super mech's lips. + +On the records he was now Al Duggan, a second cousin from Montana. He +knew that nothing in the world could bring Al further east than Ozarka. +Just to be safe, however, he decided to drop Al a line to explain. + +As far as his wife was concerned Merle Duggan was gone. Dead and buried. +She could get a divorce if she wanted and marry that podgy, pink-skulled +boss of hers at the advertising agency.... + +"Five hundred a month," Duggan told himself. "Two-fifty for the rental, +fifty for insurance--maybe fifty or so for spare parts--that leaves +about a hundred and fifty for me." + +He was starting at the bottom as a rock hog, a mucker, a clean-up man in +the newly opened 80th Level. And his wages were the minimum union scale. + +He took the lift down to the 79th Level, flashed his new badge at the +guards, and took the gritty freight lift to the lowest level of the +sprawling metropolis.... + +"You Gaines Short?" he asked the lanky man bent over the littered desk +in the rough plastic bubble that served as an office. + +Sharp black eyes studied him--noted the bright new olive badge, and the +creased, obviously new, coveralls. + +"You're the new rock hog?" + +"Yes, sir. Al Duggan." + +"Any experience?" + +"Montana--mining. Had some engineering. Worked in Ozarka on tunnels." + +The lank man nodded, expressionless. + +"You'll hog for a while. Later we'll see.... Any relation to the Duggan +we lost a couple of years back?" + +"We're cousins." + +"Tough he couldn't see his way clear to try again." Short's lips +thinned. "He may snap out of it yet.... We could use a few more like +him." + +"I--I'll talk with him," promised Duggan. + +He fought back the words that wanted to pour out. Whether it was a +strange sense of loyalty to his wife, or a stubborn sort of pride, he +could not bring himself to speak ill of her. + +"A super mech is not so bad, Duggan." Short flexed a skinny arm. "I've +worn this one since a rock slide crushed my back." + +"Yes, sir," Duggan agreed. + +Short scribbled on a form, handed it to Duggan. + +"Take this down to Ted Rusche, he's the short, dark fellow bossing the +rock hogs. He'll see you're issued your tools." + +Duggan nodded and turned away. + + * * * * * + +In the super mech hostel, on the 79th Level, Duggan shared a compartment +of six sleeping and mentrol plates. All of the others were rockhounds, +and three of them worked in his own clean-up gang. His immediate pusher, +Ted Rusche, was a legless, dark and hairy man, much like his working +super mech. Waide and Myham, the first tall and once-handsome, and the +latter, bony and scarred, were both paralytics. + +Duggan's share of the attendants' salary amounted to another fifty +dollars monthly. He was not growing too wealthy! + +"And how do you like it after three weeks, Al?" Rusche demanded from +where he balanced on the cushioned sleeping plate. + +Duggan stretched cramped limbs and turned his sightless face toward +Rusche's voice. + +"Seems good to be working again, Ted," he said. + +"This's your last day with us, Al. Orders from Short. He's transferring +you. Office work I guess, or maybe he's making you a foreman." + +Rusche's voice was curious. + +"He musta found out something about you, Al. S'funny but you look awful +familiar to me too. And you know more about tunnels than you let on. How +about leveling with a guy?" + +"Not now." Duggan was thinking of the other listening men. "After we've +cleaned-up and eaten. See you in the park outside the hostel." + +"Right." + +Duggan's thoughts were muddled. Fingerprints probably; at every super +mech hostel all guests were printed and taped, and possibly through his +similar name. Short must have been suspicious from the first. And if he +had come to the hostel to see Duggan's mentrol-hooded face, while Duggan +worked, his identification must have been sure. + +Short knew that he was Merle Duggan, and before too long Janith, and all +his friends--if he had any left now--would know he had been in hiding +here. + +He hurried to eat and get ready for another period under the mentrol's +hooded probes. + +Less than half an hour later he strode out of the hostel, his super mech +gleaming and clean and his jacket and shorts newly pressed. He met +Rusche in the park and they headed for the lift to the upper level. + +En route to the 10th Level he explained. + +"I thought you looked like somebody I should know." Rusche scrubbed at +his pseudo beard's coarseness. "Accident left you sort of psychoed, huh? +So you was scared of the levels? Had to try coming back with a false +name?" + +Duggan gulped. It made a believable sort of yarn. He hadn't taken time +to concoct a story.... Why not? + +"Something like that. I guess I was badly shook, Ted." + +"So now you go back to being engineer at a thousand or so, and I'm still +a rock hog." Rusche shrugged. "Less headaches anyhow." + +They stepped off the lift at the 10th Level and took the high speed +strip toward the business section. Duggan had it in his mind to see +Janith and tell her she had failed--that he was his own man again. She +would be at the office. He would tell her off, and leave. And then he'd +show Rusche some of the high spots of the low-number levels of +Appalachia. + +The darkness came about them swiftly. To Duggan it was like a return to +the nightmare of sightlessness. Under their feet the racing strip +faltered and stalled. They were thrown off their feet and sprawled on +the fiber-ribbed squares of the checkerboarded way's surface. + +"What is it?" demanded Rusche. + +He fought back the panic. This was not true blindness. + +"Criminals. They set off a few dozen 'midnight' bombs and try to rob +banks or stores. We get these attacks quite often." + +"Last long?" + +"Emergency ventilation will clear it out in a couple of minutes. And the +Squads will have them in half an hour. They never get very far." + +They sat close together, to wait. From the walkways and stalled strips +shrieks and frightened cries sounded. The sounds seemed to increase from +behind them. + +"This's my first time above the Twentieth Level," Rusche confided. +"Thirty-five years and I never saw the Outside. I don't think I like it +up this high." + +"It will be over in a little while, Ted. Probably just a group of +teen-agers looking for thrills." He laughed drily. "They'll end up with +blanked memories and new faces like those who tried before them." + +"Listen," muttered Rusche. + +In the lightlessness, and above the wailing of the terrified people +about them, they could hear the scuff of running feet. They were coming +closer at a swift pace. In a moment the runners would collide with them! + + * * * * * + +Duggan's years of blindness had given him the ability to judge and gauge +distance from sound. At the proper instant he pounced, his hands +clamping around a body, and a second body crashed into the leader. They +went down in a tangle. + +He heard Rusche shouting and fists battering and the tinkle of metal or +crystal on metal. He was fighting desperately, his super mech's strength +overtaxed. The unseen man's hands tore at his neck and shoulder, ripping +away the synthetic flesh and baring the complex framework beneath. + +Then his hand caught an arm and he exerted the full strength of his mech +power, until now carefully subdued. The entire arm tore away from its +shoulder. And yet the wounded man continued to attack. + +It was only then that he realized this must be a super mech. The +criminals must have stolen one or two super mechs and were using them in +this robbery. + +He was ruthless, then. He wrenched away the other arm. He battered at +the unseen torso. The feet of the desperate mech smashed at his knees +and thighs, staggering him. Then he bore the armless torso of the mech +backward and fell upon it. + +The mech went limp, its mentrols blanked by the distant criminal who +controlled it. + +Duggan came to his feet, listening for the sound of battle between +Rusche and his captive. It came from his right, faintly. About ten feet +distant, he judged it. And now the emergency vents were clearing the +darkness from the travel strips. Twilight faded and vision replaced it. + +Rusche was sitting astride a prone body, and even as Duggan reached his +side the struggling criminal's arms and legs went limp. Rusche grunted +and started to stand. + +"A super mech!" he said. He rubbed thoughtfully at his disarranged nose +and cheeks, smoothing them again into their normal contours. "What about +yours?" + +"The same." + +"Here's their loot, anyhow," Rusche said, holding up a small gray +plastine bag. + +"Drop it, Ted. We better fade out of here before the Squads arrive, too. +They might think we're--" + +"Not on your life, Al. We should get a reward. Pics on the newswires and +tapes." + +Duggan shrugged and smoothed at his own neck and face. Four +red-uniformed men, their heads hidden by ovoid gas helmets, came hissing +toward them along the travel strip. They rode single-wheeled cycles and +their rapid-fire expoders were trained on them. + +"Careful now, Ted. Let me do the talking. They like to use paralysis +needles and question later." + +"But--" + +"I've lived up here." + +The unicycles braked to a halt. + +"Step over here, slow," ordered one of the Squadmen. + +Duggan obeyed, careful to keep his arms rigid. Of course paralysis +needles would cause this mech body no damage, but why make trouble? They +_had_ more destructive weapons. + +"Ran into us," he said mildly. "We figured something wrong--honest men +would be standing where they were. We stopped them." + +The four members of the Squad were inspecting the damage. + +"I guess you did," one of them said, admiringly. "You must be super +mechs too?" + +"That's right. I'm Duggan, Al--Merle Duggan, and this is my friend, Ted +Rusche. We work on the 80th Level--rockhounds." + +"Duggan?" The man's voice was suddenly strained. "Maybe you're not so +clear as you pretend. A woman got in the way by accident, supposedly, of +their getaway from the bank. Her name was Duggan too." + +Duggan started forward, remembered the ugly expoder muzzles and backed +away. + +"Was her name Janith?" he demanded. + +"Radio report didn't say. Contact them, Joe," he told one of the other +faceless men. + +"Couldn't be you hired these two to kill her and pretend the robbery?" +he inquired. + +"Of course not." + +One of the Squad mumbled something. Duggan's interrogator dropped his +weapon's muzzle. + +"Woman twisted her ankle trying to get out of the way, and fell. +Received a cut on her temple and is being taken to the hospital. +Accidental all right." + +"But her name." + +"Janith." + +Duggan felt a strange mingling of anger and of tenderness. The anger was +directed toward the criminals. + +"Could I go to her now? Rusche can fill you in on details." + +"It's not--oh, all right. Regulations aren't too strict on these levels. +She your sister?" + +"Wife." He turned to Rusche. + +"See you at the lift in about an hour," he said and headed for the +advertising agency where Janith was employed. + + * * * * * + +"We haven't been informed as to her whereabouts yet, Mr. Duggan," the +receptionist at Duffey's offices said coldly. + +Duggan glared down into the carefully pretty face, the solar-lamp tan +and the knife-smoothed wrinkles. + +"Now see here, Blanche," he said, and spluttered impotently. + +"See here yourself, Merle Duggan," the woman spat back sharply. "After +all! You come running back just because she's hurt. Why didn't you come +back like this a year ago?" + +"I was with her a year ago." + +"That wasn't you. You didn't have guts enough to rent a super mech and +go back to your old job." The woman laughed. "Janith tried to insult and +needle you into being a man again. And you just crawled." + +"That's a lie," Duggan cried. "I begged her to let me go back. She +wouldn't listen." + +"That's what you say now. You don't want to remember. I know. I was here +all the time. Many a time Janith has come to the office, crying, and +told me how hopeless it seemed." + +"You're--you're inventing all this, Blanche," he accused. + +"I wish I were. Remember, Merle. Think. Be honest with yourself." +Blanche put her nervous, blue-veined hand on his arm. A detached part of +his brain noted how bony and brittle her hand was. + +"She's loved you all these years, Merle." The tiny hand dug into his +jacket sleeve. "To make you well again she risked losing your love--and +she lost." + +Blanche must be all of fifty, perhaps fifty-five, the analytical portion +of his mind noted. Old-maidish in many ways, despite her five +ex-husbands; yet so sentimental-- + +"It's all part of her scheme. Pretend to be the patient, long-suffering +wife and then secretly forbid me to go back to the deep levels again! +You don't know!" + +The woman's tired eyes sparkled green. Her little fist cracked against +his chest. She turned half away from him. + +"But I do know. I sat up with you many nights, while Janith got a few +hours of rest. You were like a baby, slobbering and whimpering in your +sleep. The days were worse. You were drunk and shouting and weeping. To +you blindness was the end." + +Merle gulped. He could remember nothing of the sort. Only the accident +and awakening in the hospital to darkness.... But there was a strange +blankness, a hiatus in his memories, that ended with his hated job in +the cigar stand. He could not recall his first day there or-- + +Could Blanche be telling the truth? + +"You--spiteful old hag!" he shouted at her, and rushed out of the +offices. + +His feet pounded at the yielding softness of the walkway. The hospital +was less than two blocks distant--no need to take a travel strip--and he +needed the automatic motion of walking to steady his thoughts. + +The forgotten months. Four months, or was it five months, ago, he was in +the cigar-and-news stand. That was the day when an old acquaintance from +the lower levels sold him the chance on the 80th Level's breakthrough. + +That night he had begged Janith to let him rent a super mech. And she +had scoffed at his wastefulness. Yet, now that he remembered it again, +there had been a wistful note of hope in her voice. + +Could she have been trying to fan his faint desire for sight into +something more powerful and consuming--so he would become again the +engineering Duggan he had been? + +He had surrendered then, as he did many times afterward. Sullenly, yes, +but he had surrendered. Perhaps she knew he was not ready for sight. +When he refused to obey her, when he insisted on hiring a super +mech--then, perhaps, she would know the cure was complete. + +But that was only theory. He remembered her clearly expressed hatred for +the mucking, lower-level life of a rockhound. Always his hatred for her +grew as she spoke of his work.... + +She had never expressed herself in that way before the accident. She had +gone with him on many exploratory trips into the caverns that the lower +levels of Appalachia cut across. And she had enjoyed the experience--he +was sure of that. + +Remember! Think back. Back before the cigars and papers. Back to the +days and months after the accident. It hurt to think. His temples, here +on the mentrol-hooded sleeping plate, were pounding irregularly.... + +Huddling in a bed, knees drawn up and head tucked in, trying to gain +somehow the safety that an infant once knew. Janith's voice, soft and +understanding, and the acid of panic that set his lips to mumbling +meaningless jargon.... + +Why had Janith not sent him to the medical centers for mental clearing +and re-education as was done with all cases of psychoed abnormals? The +answer was with him. She loved him as he was, Merle Duggan--not as a new +personality in her husband's body. + +Artificial amnesia automatically dissolves all marriage partnerships. +She had not wanted that. Instead she had three years of hell.... + +Striking out at emptiness, his fists contacting soft flesh, and the +pained cry, swiftly suppressed, of Janith. His voice, cursing and +high-pitched, as he fought the straps that now were restraining his +sightless body. The bite of a needle and gradual dissolution of +feeling.... + +Memory was coming reluctantly back to Duggan. This was not the +self-imagined visionings of an abused helpless man. These memories were +true. He had fought against all mental therapy and turned from those who +loved him. + +Now the hospital entrance was before him. He paused for a moment and +then went inside. The automatic hush of the door shutting out the muted +street sounds was all too familiar. + +"Mrs. Janith Duggan," he told the crisply white woman at the desk. + +"Room 212, second floor." + +"Thank you." + + * * * * * + +He used the steps in preference to the lift. He needed more time to +think--would he ever find enough time? + +Undoubtedly, now, Janith's love for him was dead. His desertion of her +must have finished the dissolution of their marriage. It had been +cowardly--he should have faced her and declared what he was going to do +and what she could do. + +These past weeks, working with the rock hogs, had been invaluable. They +had restored something of his self-esteem. + +The second floor. Pastel bare walls and soft voices. The odors. 208 and +opposite, 209. A wheelchair, propelled by a timidly smiling white-haired +woman. He nodded automatically. + +210. What could he say to her? That he was sorry she was hurt and that +he was such a fool? And then back to the super mech hostel and the five +other cripples who shared the room? + +212. The door ajar. A private room. He was glad of that. The headache +was more violent now--there was a bitter taste in his mouth as his super +mech entered the room. + +She was alone, looking tiny and helpless on the high bed. To him, after +three years, she was more beautiful than he remembered, even though the +pure whiteness of her once-graying hair startled him. + +"Janith," he said uncertainly. + +She turned her head, curiosity in her expression, and then understanding +came. There was no mistaking the warmth and welcome that came into her +eyes. She held out her arms. + +"Duggy," she commanded, "come here." + +And he knew then, without ever being told, that his revolt and flight +had all been part of the therapy, and Janith had known all the time +where he had been.... + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ September 1957. + 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 Second Sight, by Basil Eugene Wells + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECOND SIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 29832.txt or 29832.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/3/29832/ + +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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