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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/29876-8.txt b/29876-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eae4f16 --- /dev/null +++ b/29876-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,964 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Death Wish, by Robert Sheckley + +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: Death Wish + +Author: Robert Sheckley + +Illustrator: Weiss + +Release Date: August 31, 2009 [EBook #29876] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH WISH *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +Death Wish + +By NED LANG + +Illustrated by WEISS + + + Compared with a spaceship in distress, going + to hell in a handbasket is roomy and slow! + + +The space freighter _Queen Dierdre_ was a great, squat, pockmarked +vessel of the Earth-Mars run and she never gave anyone a bit of trouble. +That should have been sufficient warning to Mr. Watkins, her engineer. +Watkins was fond of saying that there are two kinds of equipment--the +kind that fails bit by bit, and the kind that fails all at once. + +Watkins was short and red-faced, magnificently mustached, and always a +little out of breath. With a cigar in his hand, over a glass of beer, he +talked most cynically about his ship, in the immemorial fashion of +engineers. But in reality, Watkins was foolishly infatuated with +_Dierdre_, idealized her, humanized her, and couldn't conceive of +anything serious ever happening. + +On this particular run, _Dierdre_ soared away from Terra at the proper +speed; Mr. Watkins signaled that fuel was being consumed at the proper +rate; and Captain Somers cut the engines at the proper moment indicated +by Mr. Rajcik, the navigator. + +As soon as Point Able had been reached and the engines stopped, Somers +frowned and studied his complex control board. He was a thin and +meticulous man, and he operated his ship with mechanical perfection. He +was well liked in the front offices of Mikkelsen Space Lines, where Old +Man Mikkelsen pointed to Captain Somers' reports as models of neatness +and efficiency. On Mars, he stayed at the Officers' Club, eschewing the +stews and dives of Marsport. On Earth, he lived in a little Vermont +cottage and enjoyed the quiet companionship of two cats, a Japanese +houseboy, and a wife. + + * * * * * + +His instructions read true. And yet he sensed something wrong. Somers +knew every creak, rattle and groan that _Dierdre_ was capable of making. +During blastoff, he had heard something _different_. In space, something +different had to be wrong. + +"Mr. Rajcik," he said, turning to his navigator, "would you check the +cargo? I believe something may have shifted." + +"You bet," Rajcik said cheerfully. He was an almost offensively handsome +young man with black wavy hair, blasé blue eyes and a cleft chin. +Despite his appearance, Rajcik was thoroughly qualified for his +position. But he was only one of fifty thousand thoroughly qualified men +who lusted for a berth on one of the fourteen spaceships in existence. +Only Stephen Rajcik had had the foresight, appearance and fortitude to +court and wed Helga, Old Man Mikkelsen's eldest daughter. + +Rajcik went aft to the cargo hold. _Dierdre_ was carrying transistors +this time, and microfilm books, platinum filaments, salamis, and other +items that could not as yet be produced on Mars. But the bulk of her +space was taken by the immense Fahrensen Computer. + +Rajcik checked the positioning lines on the monster, examined the stays +and turnbuckles that held it in place, and returned to the cabin. + +"All in order, Boss," he reported to Captain Somers, with the smile that +only an employer's son-in-law can both manage and afford. + +"Mr. Watkins, do you read anything?" + +Watkins was at his own instrument panel. "Not a thing, sir. I'll vouch +for every bit of equipment in _Dierdre_." + +"Very well. How long before we reach Point Baker?" + +"Three minutes, Chief," Rajcik said. + +"Good." + +The spaceship hung in the void, all sensation of speed lost for lack of +a reference point. Beyond the portholes was darkness, the true color of +the Universe, perforated by the brilliant lost points of the stars. + +Captain Somers turned away from the disturbing reminder of his extreme +finitude and wondered if he could land _Dierdre_ without shifting the +computer. It was by far the largest, heaviest and most delicate piece of +equipment ever transported in space. + +He worried about that machine. Its value ran into the billions of +dollars, for Mars Colony had ordered the best possible, a machine whose +utility would offset the immense transportation charge across space. As +a result, the Fahrensen Computer was perhaps the most complex and +advanced machine ever built by Man. + +"Ten seconds to Point Baker," Rajcik announced. + +"Very well." Somers readied himself at the control board. + +"Four--three--two--one--fire!" + + * * * * * + +Somers activated the engines. Acceleration pressed the three men back +into their couches, and more acceleration, and--shockingly--still more +acceleration. + +"The fuel!" Watkins yelped, watching his indicators spinning. + +"The course!" Rajcik gasped, fighting for breath. + +Captain Somers cut the engine switch. The engines continued firing, +pressing the men deeper into their couches. The cabin lights flickered, +went out, came on again. + +And still the acceleration mounted and _Dierdre's_ engines howled in +agony, thrusting the ship forward. Somers raised one leaden hand and +inched it toward the emergency cut-off switch. With a fantastic +expenditure of energy, he reached the switch, depressed it. + +The engines stopped with dramatic suddenness, while tortured metal +creaked and groaned. The lights flickered rapidly, as though _Dierdre_ +were blinking in pain. They steadied and then there was silence. + +Watkins hurried to the engine room. He returned morosely. + +"Of all the damn things," he muttered. + +"What was it?" Captain Somers asked. + +"Main firing circuit. It fused on us." He shook his head. "Metal +fatigue, I'd say. It must have been flawed for years." + +"When was it last checked out?" + +"Well, it's a sealed unit. Supposed to outlast the ship. Absolutely +foolproof, unless--" + +"Unless it's flawed." + +"Don't blame it on me! Those circuits are supposed to be X-rayed, +heat-treated, fluoroscoped--you just can't trust machinery!" + +At last Watkins believed that engineering axiom. + +"How are we on fuel?" Captain Somers asked. + +"Not enough left to push a kiddy car down Main Street," Watkins said +gloomily. "If I could get my hands on that factory inspector ..." + +Captain Somers turned to Rajcik, who was seated at the navigator's desk, +hunched over his charts. "How does this affect our course?" + +Rajcik finished the computation he was working on and gnawed +thoughtfully at his pencil. + +"It kills us. We're going to cross the orbit of Mars before Mars gets +there." + +"How long before?" + +"Too long. Captain, we're flying out of the Solar System like the +proverbial bat out of hell." + + * * * * * + +Rajcik smiled, a courageous, devil-may-care smile which Watkins found +singularly inappropriate. + +"Damn it, man," he roared, "don't just leave it there. We've got a +little fuel left. We can turn her, can't we? You _are_ a navigator, +aren't you?" + +"I am," Rajcik said icily. "And if I computed my courses the way you +maintain your engines, we'd be plowing through Australia now." + +"Why, you little company toady! At least I got my job legitimately, not +by marrying--" + +"That's enough!" Captain Somers cut in. + +Watkins, his face a mottled red, his mustache bristling, looked like a +walrus about to charge. And Rajcik, eyes glittering, was waiting +hopefully. + +"No more of this," Somers said. "I give the orders here." + +"Then give some!" Watkins snapped. "Tell him to plot a return curve. +This is life or death!" + +"All the more reason for remaining cool. Mr. Rajcik, can you plot such a +course?" + +"First thing I tried," Rajcik said. "Not a chance, on the fuel we have +left. We can turn a degree or two, but it won't help." + +Watkins said, "Of course it will! We'll curve back into the Solar +System!" + +"Sure, but the best curve we can make will take a few thousand years for +us to complete." + +"Perhaps a landfall on some other planet--Neptune, Uranus--" + +Rajcik shook his head. "Even if an outer planet were in the right place +at the right time, we'd need fuel--a lot of fuel--to get into a braking +orbit. And if we could, who'd come get us? No ship has gone past Mars +yet." + +"At least we'd have a chance," Watkins said. + +"Maybe," Rajcik agreed indifferently. "But we can't swing it. I'm afraid +you'll have to kiss the Solar System good-by." + +Captain Somers wiped his forehead and tried to think of a plan. He +found it difficult to concentrate. There was too great a discrepancy +between his knowledge of the situation and its appearance. He +knew--intellectually--that his ship was traveling out of the Solar +System at a tremendous rate of speed. But in appearance they were +stationary, hung in the abyss, three men trapped in a small, hot room, +breathing the smell of hot metal and perspiration. + +"What shall we do, Captain?" Watkins asked. + + * * * * * + +Somers frowned at the engineer. Did the man expect him to pull a +solution out of the air? How was he even supposed to concentrate on the +problem? He had to slow the ship, turn it. But his senses told him that +the ship was not moving. How, then, could speed constitute a problem? + +He couldn't help but feel that the real problem was to get away from +these high-strung, squabbling men, to escape from this hot, smelly +little room. + +"Captain! You must have some idea!" + +Somers tried to shake his feeling of unreality. The problem, the real +problem, he told himself, was how to stop the ship. + +He looked around the fixed cabin and out the porthole at the unmoving +stars. _We are moving very rapidly_, he thought, unconvinced. + +Rajcik said disgustedly, "Our noble captain can't face the situation." + +"Of course I can," Somers objected, feeling very light-headed and +unreal. "I can pilot any course you lay down. That's my only real +responsibility. Plot us a course to Mars!" + +"Sure!" Rajcik said, laughing. "I can! I will! Engineer, I'm going to +need plenty of fuel for this course--about ten tons! See that I get it!" + +"Right you are," said Watkins. "Captain, I'd like to put in a +requisition for ten tons of fuel." + +"Requisition granted," Somers said. "All right, gentlemen, +responsibility is inevitably circular. Let's get a grip on ourselves. +Mr. Rajcik, suppose you radio Mars." + +When contact had been established, Somers took the microphone and stated +their situation. The company official at the other end seemed to have +trouble grasping it. + +"But can't you turn the ship?" he asked bewilderedly. "Any kind of an +orbit--" + +"No. I've just explained that." + +"Then what do you propose to do, Captain?" + +"That's exactly what I'm asking you." + +There was a babble of voices from the loudspeaker, punctuated by bursts +of static. The lights flickered and reception began to fade. Rajcik, +working frantically, managed to re-establish the contact. + +"Captain," the official on Mars said, "we can't think of a thing. If you +could swing into any sort of an orbit--" + +"I can't!" + +"Under the circumstances, you have the right to try anything at all. +Anything, Captain!" + +Somers groaned. "Listen, I can think of just one thing. We could bail +out in spacesuits as near Mars as possible. Link ourselves together, +take the portable transmitter. It wouldn't give much of a signal, but +you'd know our approximate position. Everything would have to be figured +pretty closely--those suits just carry twelve hours' air--but it's a +chance." + + * * * * * + +There was a confusion of voices from the other end. Then the official +said, "I'm sorry, Captain." + +"What? I'm telling you it's our one chance!" + +"Captain, the only ship on Mars now is the _Diana_. Her engines are +being overhauled." + +"How long before she can be spaceborne?" + +"Three weeks, at least. And a ship from Earth would take too long. +Captain, I wish we could think of something. About the only thing we can +suggest--" + +The reception suddenly failed again. + +Rajcik cursed frustratedly as he worked over the radio. Watkins gnawed +at his mustache. Somers glanced out a porthole and looked hurriedly +away, for the stars, their destination, were impossibly distant. + +They heard static again, faintly now. + +"I can't get much more," Rajcik said. "This damned reception.... What +could they have been suggesting?" + +"Whatever it was," said Watkins, "they didn't think it would work." + +"What the hell does that matter?" Rajcik asked, annoyed. "It'd give us +something to do." + +They heard the official's voice, a whisper across space. + +"Can you hear ... Suggest ..." + +At full amplification, the voice faded, then returned. "Can only suggest +... most unlikely ... but try ... calculator ... try ..." + +[Illustration] + +The voice was gone. And then even the static was gone. + +"That does it," Rajcik said. "The calculator? Did he mean the Fahrensen +Computer in our hold?" + +"I see what he meant," said Captain Somers. "The Fahrensen is a very +advanced job. No one knows the limits of its potential. He suggests we +present our problem to it." + +"That's ridiculous," Watkins snorted. "This problem has no solution." + +"It doesn't seem to," Somers agreed. "But the big computers have solved +other apparently impossible problems. We can't lose anything by trying." + +"No," said Rajcik, "as long as we don't pin any hopes on it." + +"That's right. We don't dare hope. Mr. Watkins, I believe this is your +department." + +"Oh, what's the use?" Watkins asked. "You say don't hope--but both of +you are hoping anyhow! You think the big electronic god is going to save +your lives. Well, it's not!" + +"We have to try," Somers told him. + +"We don't! I wouldn't give it the satisfaction of turning us down!" + + * * * * * + +They stared at him in vacant astonishment. + +"Now you're implying that machines think," said Rajcik. + +"Of course I am," Watkins said. "Because they do! No, I'm not out of my +head. Any engineer will tell you that a complex machine has a +personality all its own. Do you know what that personality is like? +Cold, withdrawn, uncaring, unfeeling. A machine's only purpose is to +frustrate desire and produce two problems for every one it solves. And +do you know why a machine feels this way?" + +"You're hysterical," Somers told him. + +"I am not. A machine feels this way because it _knows_ it is an +unnatural creation in nature's domain. Therefore it wishes to reach +entropy and cease--a mechanical death wish." + +"I've never heard such gibberish in my life," Somers said. "Are you +going to hook up that computer?" + +"Of course. I'm a human. I keep trying. I just wanted you to understand +_fully_ that there is no hope." He went to the cargo hold. + +After he had gone, Rajcik grinned and shook his head. "We'd better watch +him." + +"He'll be all right," Somers said. + +"Maybe, maybe not." Rajcik pursed his lips thoughtfully. "He's blaming +the situation on a machine personality now, trying to absolve himself of +guilt. And it _is_ his fault that we're in this spot. An engineer is +responsible for all equipment." + +"I don't believe you can put the blame on him so dogmatically," Somers +replied. + +"Sure I can," Rajcik said. "I personally don't care, though. This is as +good a way to die as any other and better than most." + +Captain Somers wiped perspiration from his face. Again the notion came +to him that the problem--the _real_ problem--was to find a way out of +this hot, smelly, motionless little box. + +Rajcik said, "Death in space is an appealing idea, in certain ways. +Imagine an entire spaceship for your tomb! And you have a variety of +ways of actually dying. Thirst and starvation I rule out as +unimaginative. But there are possibilities in heat, cold, implosion, +explosion--" + +"This is pretty morbid," Somers said. + + * * * * * + +"I'm a pretty morbid fellow," Rajcik said carelessly. "But at least I'm +not blaming inanimate objects, the way Watkins is. Or permitting myself +the luxury of shock, like you." He studied Somers' face. "This is your +first real emergency, isn't it, Captain?" + +"I suppose so," Somers answered vaguely. + +"And you're responding to it like a stunned ox," Rajcik said. "Wake up, +Captain! If you can't live with joy, at least try to extract some +pleasure from your dying." + +"Shut up," Somers said, with no heat. "Why don't you read a book or +something?" + +"I've read all the books on board. I have nothing to distract me except +an analysis of your character." + +Watkins returned to the cabin. "Well, I've activated your big electronic +god. Would anyone care to make a burned offering in front of it?" + +"Have you given it the problem?" + +"Not yet. I decided to confer with the high priest. What shall I request +of the demon, sir?" + +"Give it all the data you can," Somers said. "Fuel, oxygen, water, +food--that sort of thing. Then tell it we want to return to Earth. +Alive," he added. + +"It'll love that," Watkins said. "It'll get such pleasure out of +rejecting our problem as unsolvable. Or better yet--insufficient data. +In that way, it can hint that a solution is possible, but just outside +our reach. It can keep us hoping." + +Somers and Rajcik followed him to the cargo hold. The computer, +activated now, hummed softly. Lights flashed swiftly over its panels, +blue and white and red. + +Watkins punched buttons and turned dials for fifteen minutes, then moved +back. + +"Watch for the red light on top," he said. "That means the problem is +rejected." + +"Don't say it," Rajcik warned quickly. + +Watkins laughed. "Superstitious little fellow, aren't you?" + +"But not incompetent," Rajcik said, smiling. + +"Can't you two quit it?" Somers demanded, and both men turned startedly +to face him. + +"Behold!" Rajcik said. "The sleeper has awakened." + +"After a fashion," said Watkins, snickering. + +Somers suddenly felt that if death or rescue did not come quickly, they +would kill each other, or drive each other crazy. + +"Look!" Rajcik said. + + * * * * * + +A light on the computer's panel was flashing green. + +"Must be a mistake," said Watkins. "Green means the problem is solvable +within the conditions set down." + +"Solvable!" Rajcik said. + +"But it's impossible," Watkins argued. "It's fooling us, leading us +on--" + +"Don't be superstitious," Rajcik mocked. "How soon do we get the +solution?" + +"It's coming now." Watkins pointed to a paper tape inching out of a slot +in the machine's face. "But there must be something wrong!" + +They watched as, millimeter by millimeter, the tape crept out. The +computer hummed, its lights flashing green. Then the hum stopped. The +green lights blazed once more and faded. + +"What happened?" Rajcik wanted to know. + +"It's finished," Watkins said. + +"Pick it up! Read it!" + +"You read it. You won't get _me_ to play its game." + +Rajcik laughed nervously and rubbed his hands together, but didn't move. +Both men turned to Somers. + +"Captain, it's your responsibility." + +"Go ahead, Captain!" + +Somers looked with loathing at his engineer and navigator. _His_ +responsibility, everything was _his_ responsibility. Would they never +leave him alone? + +He went up to the machine, pulled the tape free, read it with slow +deliberation. + +"What does it say, sir?" Rajcik asked. + +"Is it--possible?" Watkins urged. + +"Oh, yes," Somers said. "It's possible." He laughed and looked around at +the hot, smelly, low-ceilinged little room with its locked doors and +windows. + +"What is it?" Rajcik shouted. + + * * * * * + +Somers said, "You figured a few thousand years to return to the Solar +System, Rajcik? Well, the computer agrees with you. Twenty-three hundred +years, to be precise. Therefore, it has given us a suitable longevity +serum." + +"Twenty-three hundred years," Rajcik mumbled. "I suppose we hibernate or +something of the sort." + +"Not at all," Somers said calmly. "As a matter of fact, this serum does +away quite nicely with the need for sleep. We stay awake and watch each +other." + +The three men looked at one another and at the sickeningly familiar room +smelling of metal and perspiration, its sealed doors and windows that +stared at an unchanging spectacle of stars. + +Watkins said, "Yes, that's the sort of thing it would do." + + --NED LANG + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ June 1956. + 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 Death Wish, by Robert Sheckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH WISH *** + +***** This file should be named 29876-8.txt or 29876-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/7/29876/ + +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: Death Wish + +Author: Robert Sheckley + +Illustrator: Weiss + +Release Date: August 31, 2009 [EBook #29876] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH WISH *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><span class="sp1">Death Wish</span></h1> + +<h2>By NED LANG</h2> + +<p class="hd1"><b><big>Illustrated by WEISS</big></b></p> + +<div class="bk1"><p><big><b>Compared with a spaceship in distress, going +to hell in a handbasket is roomy and slow!</b></big></p></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> space freighter <i>Queen +Dierdre</i> was a great, squat, +pockmarked vessel of the +Earth-Mars run and she never +gave anyone a bit of trouble. That +should have been sufficient warning +to Mr. Watkins, her engineer. +Watkins was fond of saying +that there are two kinds of equipment—the +kind that fails bit by +bit, and the kind that fails all at +once.</p> + +<p>Watkins was short and red-faced, +magnificently mustached, +and always a little out of breath. +With a cigar in his hand, over a +glass of beer, he talked most cynically +about his ship, in the immemorial +fashion of engineers. +But in reality, Watkins was foolishly +infatuated with <i>Dierdre</i>, +idealized her, humanized her, and +couldn't conceive of anything serious +ever happening.</p> + +<p>On this particular run, <i>Dierdre</i> +soared away from Terra at the +proper speed; Mr. Watkins signaled +that fuel was being consumed +at the proper rate; and +Captain Somers cut the engines +at the proper moment indicated +by Mr. Rajcik, the navigator.</p> + +<p>As soon as Point Able had +been reached and the engines +stopped, Somers frowned and +studied his complex control +board. He was a thin and meticulous +man, and he operated his +ship with mechanical perfection. +He was well liked in the front +offices of Mikkelsen Space Lines, +where Old Man Mikkelsen pointed +to Captain Somers' reports as +models of neatness and efficiency. +On Mars, he stayed at the Officers' +Club, eschewing the stews and +dives of Marsport. On Earth, he +lived in a little Vermont cottage +and enjoyed the quiet companionship +of two cats, a Japanese +houseboy, and a wife.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">His</span> instructions read true. And +yet he sensed something +wrong. Somers knew every creak, +rattle and groan that <i>Dierdre</i> +was capable of making. During +blastoff, he had heard something +<i>different</i>. In space, something different +had to be wrong.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rajcik," he said, turning +to his navigator, "would you +check the cargo? I believe something +may have shifted."</p> + +<p>"You bet," Rajcik said cheerfully. +He was an almost offensively +handsome young man with +black wavy hair, blasé blue eyes +and a cleft chin. Despite his appearance, +Rajcik was thoroughly +qualified for his position. But he +was only one of fifty thousand +thoroughly qualified men who +lusted for a berth on one of the +fourteen spaceships in existence. +Only Stephen Rajcik had had the +foresight, appearance and fortitude +to court and wed Helga, Old +Man Mikkelsen's eldest daughter.</p> + +<p>Rajcik went aft to the cargo +hold. <i>Dierdre</i> was carrying transistors +this time, and microfilm +books, platinum filaments, salamis, +and other items that could +not as yet be produced on Mars. +But the bulk of her space was +taken by the immense Fahrensen +Computer.</p> + +<p>Rajcik checked the positioning +lines on the monster, examined +the stays and turnbuckles +that held it in place, and returned +to the cabin.</p> + +<p>"All in order, Boss," he reported +to Captain Somers, with the +smile that only an employer's +son-in-law can both manage and +afford.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Watkins, do you read +anything?"</p> + +<p>Watkins was at his own instrument +panel. "Not a thing, sir. I'll +vouch for every bit of equipment +in <i>Dierdre</i>."</p> + +<p>"Very well. How long before +we reach Point Baker?"</p> + +<p>"Three minutes, Chief," Rajcik +said.</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>The spaceship hung in the +void, all sensation of speed lost +for lack of a reference point. Beyond +the portholes was darkness, +the true color of the Universe, +perforated by the brilliant lost +points of the stars.</p> + +<p>Captain Somers turned away +from the disturbing reminder of +his extreme finitude and wondered +if he could land <i>Dierdre</i> +without shifting the computer. It +was by far the largest, heaviest +and most delicate piece of equipment +ever transported in space.</p> + +<p>He worried about that machine. +Its value ran into the billions +of dollars, for Mars Colony +had ordered the best possible, a +machine whose utility would offset +the immense transportation +charge across space. As a result, +the Fahrensen Computer was perhaps +the most complex and advanced +machine ever built by +Man.</p> + +<p>"Ten seconds to Point Baker," +Rajcik announced.</p> + +<p>"Very well." Somers readied +himself at the control board.</p> + +<p>"Four—three—two—one—fire!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Somers</span> activated the engines. +Acceleration pressed the three +men back into their couches, and +more acceleration, and—shockingly—still +more acceleration.</p> + +<p>"The fuel!" Watkins yelped, +watching his indicators spinning.</p> + +<p>"The course!" Rajcik gasped, +fighting for breath.</p> + +<p>Captain Somers cut the engine +switch. The engines continued +firing, pressing the men deeper +into their couches. The cabin +lights flickered, went out, came +on again.</p> + +<p>And still the acceleration +mounted and <i>Dierdre's</i> engines +howled in agony, thrusting the +ship forward. Somers raised one +leaden hand and inched it toward +the emergency cut-off +switch. With a fantastic expenditure +of energy, he reached the +switch, depressed it.</p> + +<p>The engines stopped with dramatic +suddenness, while tortured +metal creaked and groaned. The +lights flickered rapidly, as though +<i>Dierdre</i> were blinking in pain. +They steadied and then there was +silence.</p> + +<p>Watkins hurried to the engine +room. He returned morosely.</p> + +<p>"Of all the damn things," he +muttered.</p> + +<p>"What was it?" Captain Somers +asked.</p> + +<p>"Main firing circuit. It fused +on us." He shook his head. "Metal +fatigue, I'd say. It must have +been flawed for years."</p> + +<p>"When was it last checked +out?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a sealed unit. Supposed +to outlast the ship. Absolutely +foolproof, unless—"</p> + +<p>"Unless it's flawed."</p> + +<p>"Don't blame it on me! Those +circuits are supposed to be X-rayed, +heat-treated, fluoroscoped—you +just can't trust machinery!"</p> + +<p>At last Watkins believed that +engineering axiom.</p> + +<p>"How are we on fuel?" Captain +Somers asked.</p> + +<p>"Not enough left to push a +kiddy car down Main Street," +Watkins said gloomily. "If I could +get my hands on that factory inspector ..."</p> + +<p>Captain Somers turned to Rajcik, +who was seated at the navigator's +desk, hunched over his +charts. "How does this affect our +course?"</p> + +<p>Rajcik finished the computation +he was working on and +gnawed thoughtfully at his pencil.</p> + +<p>"It kills us. We're going to +cross the orbit of Mars before +Mars gets there."</p> + +<p>"How long before?"</p> + +<p>"Too long. Captain, we're flying +out of the Solar System like +the proverbial bat out of hell."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Rajcik</span> smiled, a courageous, +devil-may-care smile which +Watkins found singularly inappropriate.</p> + +<p>"Damn it, man," he roared, +"don't just leave it there. We've +got a little fuel left. We can turn +her, can't we? You <i>are</i> a navigator, +aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I am," Rajcik said icily. "And +if I computed my courses the +way you maintain your engines, +we'd be plowing through Australia +now."</p> + +<p>"Why, you little company +toady! At least I got my job legitimately, +not by marrying—"</p> + +<p>"That's enough!" Captain Somers +cut in.</p> + +<p>Watkins, his face a mottled red, +his mustache bristling, looked like +a walrus about to charge. And +Rajcik, eyes glittering, was waiting +hopefully.</p> + +<p>"No more of this," Somers said. +"I give the orders here."</p> + +<p>"Then give some!" Watkins +snapped. "Tell him to plot a return +curve. This is life or death!"</p> + +<p>"All the more reason for remaining +cool. Mr. Rajcik, can +you plot such a course?"</p> + +<p>"First thing I tried," Rajcik +said. "Not a chance, on the fuel +we have left. We can turn a degree +or two, but it won't help."</p> + +<p>Watkins said, "Of course it will! +We'll curve back into the Solar +System!"</p> + +<p>"Sure, but the best curve we +can make will take a few thousand +years for us to complete."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps a landfall on some +other planet—Neptune, Uranus—"</p> + +<p>Rajcik shook his head. "Even +if an outer planet were in the +right place at the right time, we'd +need fuel—a lot of fuel—to get +into a braking orbit. And if we +could, who'd come get us? No +ship has gone past Mars yet."</p> + +<p>"At least we'd have a chance," +Watkins said.</p> + +<p>"Maybe," Rajcik agreed indifferently. +"But we can't swing it. +I'm afraid you'll have to kiss the +Solar System good-by."</p> + +<p>Captain Somers wiped his forehead +and tried to think of a plan. +He found it difficult to concentrate. +There was too great a discrepancy +between his knowledge +of the situation and its appearance. +He knew—intellectually—that +his ship was traveling out of +the Solar System at a tremendous +rate of speed. But in appearance +they were stationary, hung in the +abyss, three men trapped in a +small, hot room, breathing the +smell of hot metal and perspiration.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do, Captain?" +Watkins asked.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Somers</span> frowned at the engineer. +Did the man expect him +to pull a solution out of the air? +How was he even supposed to +concentrate on the problem? He +had to slow the ship, turn it. But +his senses told him that the ship +was not moving. How, then, could +speed constitute a problem?</p> + +<p>He couldn't help but feel that +the real problem was to get away +from these high-strung, squabbling +men, to escape from this +hot, smelly little room.</p> + +<p>"Captain! You must have some +idea!"</p> + +<p>Somers tried to shake his feeling +of unreality. The problem, +the real problem, he told himself, +was how to stop the ship.</p> + +<p>He looked around the fixed cabin +and out the porthole at the +unmoving stars. <i>We are moving +very rapidly</i>, he thought, unconvinced.</p> + +<p>Rajcik said disgustedly, "Our +noble captain can't face the situation."</p> + +<p>"Of course I can," Somers objected, +feeling very light-headed +and unreal. "I can pilot any course +you lay down. That's my only +real responsibility. Plot us a +course to Mars!"</p> + +<p>"Sure!" Rajcik said, laughing. +"I can! I will! Engineer, I'm going +to need plenty of fuel for this +course—about ten tons! See that +I get it!"</p> + +<p>"Right you are," said Watkins. +"Captain, I'd like to put in a requisition +for ten tons of fuel."</p> + +<p>"Requisition granted," Somers +said. "All right, gentlemen, responsibility +is inevitably circular. +Let's get a grip on ourselves. Mr. +Rajcik, suppose you radio Mars."</p> + +<p>When contact had been established, +Somers took the microphone +and stated their situation. +The company official at the other +end seemed to have trouble +grasping it.</p> + +<p>"But can't you turn the ship?" +he asked bewilderedly. "Any kind +of an orbit—"</p> + +<p>"No. I've just explained that."</p> + +<p>"Then what do you propose to +do, Captain?"</p> + +<p>"That's exactly what I'm asking +you."</p> + +<p>There was a babble of voices +from the loudspeaker, punctuated +by bursts of static. The lights +flickered and reception began to +fade. Rajcik, working frantically, +managed to re-establish the contact.</p> + +<p>"Captain," the official on Mars +said, "we can't think of a thing. +If you could swing into any sort +of an orbit—"</p> + +<p>"I can't!"</p> + +<p>"Under the circumstances, you +have the right to try anything at +all. Anything, Captain!"</p> + +<p>Somers groaned. "Listen, I can +think of just one thing. We could +bail out in spacesuits as near +Mars as possible. Link ourselves +together, take the portable transmitter. +It wouldn't give much of +a signal, but you'd know our approximate +position. Everything +would have to be figured pretty +closely—those suits just carry +twelve hours' air—but it's a +chance."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">There</span> was a confusion of +voices from the other end. +Then the official said, "I'm sorry, +Captain."</p> + +<p>"What? I'm telling you it's our +one chance!"</p> + +<p>"Captain, the only ship on Mars +now is the <i>Diana</i>. Her engines +are being overhauled."</p> + +<p>"How long before she can be +spaceborne?"</p> + +<p>"Three weeks, at least. And a +ship from Earth would take too +long. Captain, I wish we could +think of something. About the +only thing we can suggest—"</p> + +<p>The reception suddenly failed +again.</p> + +<p>Rajcik cursed frustratedly as +he worked over the radio. Watkins +gnawed at his mustache. +Somers glanced out a porthole +and looked hurriedly away, for +the stars, their destination, were +impossibly distant.</p> + +<p>They heard static again, faintly +now.</p> + +<p>"I can't get much more," Rajcik +said. "This damned reception.... +What could they have been +suggesting?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever it was," said Watkins, +"they didn't think it would +work."</p> + +<p>"What the hell does that matter?" +Rajcik asked, annoyed. "It'd +give us something to do."</p> + +<p>They heard the official's voice, +a whisper across space.</p> + +<p>"Can you hear ... Suggest ..."</p> + +<p>At full amplification, the voice +faded, then returned. "Can only +suggest ... most unlikely ... but +try ... calculator ... try ..."</p> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/001.png" width="363" height="500" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<p>The voice was gone. And then +even the static was gone.</p> + +<p>"That does it," Rajcik said. +"The calculator? Did he mean the +Fahrensen Computer in our +hold?"</p> + +<p>"I see what he meant," said +Captain Somers. "The Fahrensen +is a very advanced job. No one +knows the limits of its potential. +He suggests we present our problem +to it."</p> + +<p>"That's ridiculous," Watkins +snorted. "This problem has no solution."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem to," Somers +agreed. "But the big computers +have solved other apparently impossible +problems. We can't lose +anything by trying."</p> + +<p>"No," said Rajcik, "as long as +we don't pin any hopes on it."</p> + +<p>"That's right. We don't dare +hope. Mr. Watkins, I believe this +is your department."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what's the use?" Watkins +asked. "You say don't hope—but +both of you are hoping anyhow! +You think the big electronic god +is going to save your lives. Well, +it's not!"</p> + +<p>"We have to try," Somers told +him.</p> + +<p>"We don't! I wouldn't give it +the satisfaction of turning us +down!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">They</span> stared at him in vacant +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Now you're implying that machines +think," said Rajcik.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am," Watkins said. +"Because they do! No, I'm not +out of my head. Any engineer will +tell you that a complex machine +has a personality all its own. Do +you know what that personality +is like? Cold, withdrawn, uncaring, +unfeeling. A machine's only +purpose is to frustrate desire and +produce two problems for every +one it solves. And do you know +why a machine feels this way?"</p> + +<p>"You're hysterical," Somers +told him.</p> + +<p>"I am not. A machine feels +this way because it <i>knows</i> it is +an unnatural creation in nature's +domain. Therefore it wishes to +reach entropy and cease—a mechanical +death wish."</p> + +<p>"I've never heard such gibberish +in my life," Somers said. "Are +you going to hook up that computer?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. I'm a human. I +keep trying. I just wanted you to +understand <i>fully</i> that there is no +hope." He went to the cargo hold.</p> + +<p>After he had gone, Rajcik +grinned and shook his head. "We'd +better watch him."</p> + +<p>"He'll be all right," Somers +said.</p> + +<p>"Maybe, maybe not." Rajcik +pursed his lips thoughtfully. "He's +blaming the situation on a machine +personality now, trying to +absolve himself of guilt. And it +<i>is</i> his fault that we're in this spot. +An engineer is responsible for all +equipment."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you can put +the blame on him so dogmatically," +Somers replied.</p> + +<p>"Sure I can," Rajcik said. "I +personally don't care, though. +This is as good a way to die as +any other and better than most."</p> + +<p>Captain Somers wiped perspiration +from his face. Again the +notion came to him that the problem—the +<i>real</i> problem—was +to find a way out of this hot, +smelly, motionless little box.</p> + +<p>Rajcik said, "Death in space +is an appealing idea, in certain +ways. Imagine an entire spaceship +for your tomb! And you have +a variety of ways of actually dying. +Thirst and starvation I rule +out as unimaginative. But there +are possibilities in heat, cold, implosion, +explosion—"</p> + +<p>"This is pretty morbid," Somers +said.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">"I'm a</span> pretty morbid fellow," +Rajcik said carelessly. "But +at least I'm not blaming inanimate +objects, the way Watkins +is. Or permitting myself the luxury +of shock, like you." He studied +Somers' face. "This is your +first real emergency, isn't it, Captain?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," Somers answered +vaguely.</p> + +<p>"And you're responding to it +like a stunned ox," Rajcik said. +"Wake up, Captain! If you can't +live with joy, at least try to extract +some pleasure from your +dying."</p> + +<p>"Shut up," Somers said, with +no heat. "Why don't you read a +book or something?"</p> + +<p>"I've read all the books on +board. I have nothing to distract +me except an analysis of your +character."</p> + +<p>Watkins returned to the cabin. +"Well, I've activated your big +electronic god. Would anyone +care to make a burned offering +in front of it?"</p> + +<p>"Have you given it the problem?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I decided to confer +with the high priest. What shall +I request of the demon, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Give it all the data you can," +Somers said. "Fuel, oxygen, water, +food—that sort of thing. +Then tell it we want to return to +Earth. Alive," he added.</p> + +<p>"It'll love that," Watkins said. +"It'll get such pleasure out of rejecting +our problem as unsolvable. +Or better yet—insufficient +data. In that way, it can hint +that a solution is possible, but just +outside our reach. It can keep us +hoping."</p> + +<p>Somers and Rajcik followed +him to the cargo hold. The computer, +activated now, hummed +softly. Lights flashed swiftly over +its panels, blue and white and +red.</p> + +<p>Watkins punched buttons and +turned dials for fifteen minutes, +then moved back.</p> + +<p>"Watch for the red light on +top," he said. "That means the +problem is rejected."</p> + +<p>"Don't say it," Rajcik warned +quickly.</p> + +<p>Watkins laughed. "Superstitious +little fellow, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"But not incompetent," Rajcik +said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Can't you two quit it?" Somers +demanded, and both men +turned startedly to face him.</p> + +<p>"Behold!" Rajcik said. "The +sleeper has awakened."</p> + +<p>"After a fashion," said Watkins, +snickering.</p> + +<p>Somers suddenly felt that if +death or rescue did not come +quickly, they would kill each +other, or drive each other crazy.</p> + +<p>"Look!" Rajcik said.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">A light</span> on the computer's +panel was flashing green.</p> + +<p>"Must be a mistake," said Watkins. +"Green means the problem +is solvable within the conditions +set down."</p> + +<p>"Solvable!" Rajcik said.</p> + +<p>"But it's impossible," Watkins +argued. "It's fooling us, leading +us on—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be superstitious," Rajcik +mocked. "How soon do we get +the solution?"</p> + +<p>"It's coming now." Watkins +pointed to a paper tape inching +out of a slot in the machine's +face. "But there must be something +wrong!"</p> + +<p>They watched as, millimeter +by millimeter, the tape crept out. +The computer hummed, its lights +flashing green. Then the hum +stopped. The green lights blazed +once more and faded.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Rajcik +wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"It's finished," Watkins said.</p> + +<p>"Pick it up! Read it!"</p> + +<p>"You read it. You won't get <i>me</i> +to play its game."</p> + +<p>Rajcik laughed nervously and +rubbed his hands together, but +didn't move. Both men turned +to Somers.</p> + +<p>"Captain, it's your responsibility."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, Captain!"</p> + +<p>Somers looked with loathing at +his engineer and navigator. <i>His</i> +responsibility, everything was <i>his</i> +responsibility. Would they never +leave him alone?</p> + +<p>He went up to the machine, +pulled the tape free, read it with +slow deliberation.</p> + +<p>"What does it say, sir?" Rajcik +asked.</p> + +<p>"Is it—possible?" Watkins +urged.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Somers said. "It's +possible." He laughed and looked +around at the hot, smelly, low-ceilinged +little room with its +locked doors and windows.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Rajcik shouted.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Somers</span> said, "You figured a +few thousand years to return +to the Solar System, Rajcik? +Well, the computer agrees with +you. Twenty-three hundred years, +to be precise. Therefore, it has +given us a suitable longevity +serum."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-three hundred years," +Rajcik mumbled. "I suppose we +hibernate or something of the +sort."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Somers said calmly. +"As a matter of fact, this serum +does away quite nicely with +the need for sleep. We stay awake +and watch each other."</p> + +<p>The three men looked at one +another and at the sickeningly +familiar room smelling of metal +and perspiration, its sealed doors +and windows that stared at an +unchanging spectacle of stars.</p> + +<p>Watkins said, "Yes, that's the +sort of thing it would do."</p> + +<p class="rgt"><b>—NED LANG</b></p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="149" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Galaxy Science Fiction</i> June 1956. +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.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Death Wish, by Robert Sheckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH WISH *** + +***** This file should be named 29876-h.htm or 29876-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/7/29876/ + +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: Death Wish + +Author: Robert Sheckley + +Illustrator: Weiss + +Release Date: August 31, 2009 [EBook #29876] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH WISH *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +Death Wish + +By NED LANG + +Illustrated by WEISS + + + Compared with a spaceship in distress, going + to hell in a handbasket is roomy and slow! + + +The space freighter _Queen Dierdre_ was a great, squat, pockmarked +vessel of the Earth-Mars run and she never gave anyone a bit of trouble. +That should have been sufficient warning to Mr. Watkins, her engineer. +Watkins was fond of saying that there are two kinds of equipment--the +kind that fails bit by bit, and the kind that fails all at once. + +Watkins was short and red-faced, magnificently mustached, and always a +little out of breath. With a cigar in his hand, over a glass of beer, he +talked most cynically about his ship, in the immemorial fashion of +engineers. But in reality, Watkins was foolishly infatuated with +_Dierdre_, idealized her, humanized her, and couldn't conceive of +anything serious ever happening. + +On this particular run, _Dierdre_ soared away from Terra at the proper +speed; Mr. Watkins signaled that fuel was being consumed at the proper +rate; and Captain Somers cut the engines at the proper moment indicated +by Mr. Rajcik, the navigator. + +As soon as Point Able had been reached and the engines stopped, Somers +frowned and studied his complex control board. He was a thin and +meticulous man, and he operated his ship with mechanical perfection. He +was well liked in the front offices of Mikkelsen Space Lines, where Old +Man Mikkelsen pointed to Captain Somers' reports as models of neatness +and efficiency. On Mars, he stayed at the Officers' Club, eschewing the +stews and dives of Marsport. On Earth, he lived in a little Vermont +cottage and enjoyed the quiet companionship of two cats, a Japanese +houseboy, and a wife. + + * * * * * + +His instructions read true. And yet he sensed something wrong. Somers +knew every creak, rattle and groan that _Dierdre_ was capable of making. +During blastoff, he had heard something _different_. In space, something +different had to be wrong. + +"Mr. Rajcik," he said, turning to his navigator, "would you check the +cargo? I believe something may have shifted." + +"You bet," Rajcik said cheerfully. He was an almost offensively handsome +young man with black wavy hair, blase blue eyes and a cleft chin. +Despite his appearance, Rajcik was thoroughly qualified for his +position. But he was only one of fifty thousand thoroughly qualified men +who lusted for a berth on one of the fourteen spaceships in existence. +Only Stephen Rajcik had had the foresight, appearance and fortitude to +court and wed Helga, Old Man Mikkelsen's eldest daughter. + +Rajcik went aft to the cargo hold. _Dierdre_ was carrying transistors +this time, and microfilm books, platinum filaments, salamis, and other +items that could not as yet be produced on Mars. But the bulk of her +space was taken by the immense Fahrensen Computer. + +Rajcik checked the positioning lines on the monster, examined the stays +and turnbuckles that held it in place, and returned to the cabin. + +"All in order, Boss," he reported to Captain Somers, with the smile that +only an employer's son-in-law can both manage and afford. + +"Mr. Watkins, do you read anything?" + +Watkins was at his own instrument panel. "Not a thing, sir. I'll vouch +for every bit of equipment in _Dierdre_." + +"Very well. How long before we reach Point Baker?" + +"Three minutes, Chief," Rajcik said. + +"Good." + +The spaceship hung in the void, all sensation of speed lost for lack of +a reference point. Beyond the portholes was darkness, the true color of +the Universe, perforated by the brilliant lost points of the stars. + +Captain Somers turned away from the disturbing reminder of his extreme +finitude and wondered if he could land _Dierdre_ without shifting the +computer. It was by far the largest, heaviest and most delicate piece of +equipment ever transported in space. + +He worried about that machine. Its value ran into the billions of +dollars, for Mars Colony had ordered the best possible, a machine whose +utility would offset the immense transportation charge across space. As +a result, the Fahrensen Computer was perhaps the most complex and +advanced machine ever built by Man. + +"Ten seconds to Point Baker," Rajcik announced. + +"Very well." Somers readied himself at the control board. + +"Four--three--two--one--fire!" + + * * * * * + +Somers activated the engines. Acceleration pressed the three men back +into their couches, and more acceleration, and--shockingly--still more +acceleration. + +"The fuel!" Watkins yelped, watching his indicators spinning. + +"The course!" Rajcik gasped, fighting for breath. + +Captain Somers cut the engine switch. The engines continued firing, +pressing the men deeper into their couches. The cabin lights flickered, +went out, came on again. + +And still the acceleration mounted and _Dierdre's_ engines howled in +agony, thrusting the ship forward. Somers raised one leaden hand and +inched it toward the emergency cut-off switch. With a fantastic +expenditure of energy, he reached the switch, depressed it. + +The engines stopped with dramatic suddenness, while tortured metal +creaked and groaned. The lights flickered rapidly, as though _Dierdre_ +were blinking in pain. They steadied and then there was silence. + +Watkins hurried to the engine room. He returned morosely. + +"Of all the damn things," he muttered. + +"What was it?" Captain Somers asked. + +"Main firing circuit. It fused on us." He shook his head. "Metal +fatigue, I'd say. It must have been flawed for years." + +"When was it last checked out?" + +"Well, it's a sealed unit. Supposed to outlast the ship. Absolutely +foolproof, unless--" + +"Unless it's flawed." + +"Don't blame it on me! Those circuits are supposed to be X-rayed, +heat-treated, fluoroscoped--you just can't trust machinery!" + +At last Watkins believed that engineering axiom. + +"How are we on fuel?" Captain Somers asked. + +"Not enough left to push a kiddy car down Main Street," Watkins said +gloomily. "If I could get my hands on that factory inspector ..." + +Captain Somers turned to Rajcik, who was seated at the navigator's desk, +hunched over his charts. "How does this affect our course?" + +Rajcik finished the computation he was working on and gnawed +thoughtfully at his pencil. + +"It kills us. We're going to cross the orbit of Mars before Mars gets +there." + +"How long before?" + +"Too long. Captain, we're flying out of the Solar System like the +proverbial bat out of hell." + + * * * * * + +Rajcik smiled, a courageous, devil-may-care smile which Watkins found +singularly inappropriate. + +"Damn it, man," he roared, "don't just leave it there. We've got a +little fuel left. We can turn her, can't we? You _are_ a navigator, +aren't you?" + +"I am," Rajcik said icily. "And if I computed my courses the way you +maintain your engines, we'd be plowing through Australia now." + +"Why, you little company toady! At least I got my job legitimately, not +by marrying--" + +"That's enough!" Captain Somers cut in. + +Watkins, his face a mottled red, his mustache bristling, looked like a +walrus about to charge. And Rajcik, eyes glittering, was waiting +hopefully. + +"No more of this," Somers said. "I give the orders here." + +"Then give some!" Watkins snapped. "Tell him to plot a return curve. +This is life or death!" + +"All the more reason for remaining cool. Mr. Rajcik, can you plot such a +course?" + +"First thing I tried," Rajcik said. "Not a chance, on the fuel we have +left. We can turn a degree or two, but it won't help." + +Watkins said, "Of course it will! We'll curve back into the Solar +System!" + +"Sure, but the best curve we can make will take a few thousand years for +us to complete." + +"Perhaps a landfall on some other planet--Neptune, Uranus--" + +Rajcik shook his head. "Even if an outer planet were in the right place +at the right time, we'd need fuel--a lot of fuel--to get into a braking +orbit. And if we could, who'd come get us? No ship has gone past Mars +yet." + +"At least we'd have a chance," Watkins said. + +"Maybe," Rajcik agreed indifferently. "But we can't swing it. I'm afraid +you'll have to kiss the Solar System good-by." + +Captain Somers wiped his forehead and tried to think of a plan. He +found it difficult to concentrate. There was too great a discrepancy +between his knowledge of the situation and its appearance. He +knew--intellectually--that his ship was traveling out of the Solar +System at a tremendous rate of speed. But in appearance they were +stationary, hung in the abyss, three men trapped in a small, hot room, +breathing the smell of hot metal and perspiration. + +"What shall we do, Captain?" Watkins asked. + + * * * * * + +Somers frowned at the engineer. Did the man expect him to pull a +solution out of the air? How was he even supposed to concentrate on the +problem? He had to slow the ship, turn it. But his senses told him that +the ship was not moving. How, then, could speed constitute a problem? + +He couldn't help but feel that the real problem was to get away from +these high-strung, squabbling men, to escape from this hot, smelly +little room. + +"Captain! You must have some idea!" + +Somers tried to shake his feeling of unreality. The problem, the real +problem, he told himself, was how to stop the ship. + +He looked around the fixed cabin and out the porthole at the unmoving +stars. _We are moving very rapidly_, he thought, unconvinced. + +Rajcik said disgustedly, "Our noble captain can't face the situation." + +"Of course I can," Somers objected, feeling very light-headed and +unreal. "I can pilot any course you lay down. That's my only real +responsibility. Plot us a course to Mars!" + +"Sure!" Rajcik said, laughing. "I can! I will! Engineer, I'm going to +need plenty of fuel for this course--about ten tons! See that I get it!" + +"Right you are," said Watkins. "Captain, I'd like to put in a +requisition for ten tons of fuel." + +"Requisition granted," Somers said. "All right, gentlemen, +responsibility is inevitably circular. Let's get a grip on ourselves. +Mr. Rajcik, suppose you radio Mars." + +When contact had been established, Somers took the microphone and stated +their situation. The company official at the other end seemed to have +trouble grasping it. + +"But can't you turn the ship?" he asked bewilderedly. "Any kind of an +orbit--" + +"No. I've just explained that." + +"Then what do you propose to do, Captain?" + +"That's exactly what I'm asking you." + +There was a babble of voices from the loudspeaker, punctuated by bursts +of static. The lights flickered and reception began to fade. Rajcik, +working frantically, managed to re-establish the contact. + +"Captain," the official on Mars said, "we can't think of a thing. If you +could swing into any sort of an orbit--" + +"I can't!" + +"Under the circumstances, you have the right to try anything at all. +Anything, Captain!" + +Somers groaned. "Listen, I can think of just one thing. We could bail +out in spacesuits as near Mars as possible. Link ourselves together, +take the portable transmitter. It wouldn't give much of a signal, but +you'd know our approximate position. Everything would have to be figured +pretty closely--those suits just carry twelve hours' air--but it's a +chance." + + * * * * * + +There was a confusion of voices from the other end. Then the official +said, "I'm sorry, Captain." + +"What? I'm telling you it's our one chance!" + +"Captain, the only ship on Mars now is the _Diana_. Her engines are +being overhauled." + +"How long before she can be spaceborne?" + +"Three weeks, at least. And a ship from Earth would take too long. +Captain, I wish we could think of something. About the only thing we can +suggest--" + +The reception suddenly failed again. + +Rajcik cursed frustratedly as he worked over the radio. Watkins gnawed +at his mustache. Somers glanced out a porthole and looked hurriedly +away, for the stars, their destination, were impossibly distant. + +They heard static again, faintly now. + +"I can't get much more," Rajcik said. "This damned reception.... What +could they have been suggesting?" + +"Whatever it was," said Watkins, "they didn't think it would work." + +"What the hell does that matter?" Rajcik asked, annoyed. "It'd give us +something to do." + +They heard the official's voice, a whisper across space. + +"Can you hear ... Suggest ..." + +At full amplification, the voice faded, then returned. "Can only suggest +... most unlikely ... but try ... calculator ... try ..." + +[Illustration] + +The voice was gone. And then even the static was gone. + +"That does it," Rajcik said. "The calculator? Did he mean the Fahrensen +Computer in our hold?" + +"I see what he meant," said Captain Somers. "The Fahrensen is a very +advanced job. No one knows the limits of its potential. He suggests we +present our problem to it." + +"That's ridiculous," Watkins snorted. "This problem has no solution." + +"It doesn't seem to," Somers agreed. "But the big computers have solved +other apparently impossible problems. We can't lose anything by trying." + +"No," said Rajcik, "as long as we don't pin any hopes on it." + +"That's right. We don't dare hope. Mr. Watkins, I believe this is your +department." + +"Oh, what's the use?" Watkins asked. "You say don't hope--but both of +you are hoping anyhow! You think the big electronic god is going to save +your lives. Well, it's not!" + +"We have to try," Somers told him. + +"We don't! I wouldn't give it the satisfaction of turning us down!" + + * * * * * + +They stared at him in vacant astonishment. + +"Now you're implying that machines think," said Rajcik. + +"Of course I am," Watkins said. "Because they do! No, I'm not out of my +head. Any engineer will tell you that a complex machine has a +personality all its own. Do you know what that personality is like? +Cold, withdrawn, uncaring, unfeeling. A machine's only purpose is to +frustrate desire and produce two problems for every one it solves. And +do you know why a machine feels this way?" + +"You're hysterical," Somers told him. + +"I am not. A machine feels this way because it _knows_ it is an +unnatural creation in nature's domain. Therefore it wishes to reach +entropy and cease--a mechanical death wish." + +"I've never heard such gibberish in my life," Somers said. "Are you +going to hook up that computer?" + +"Of course. I'm a human. I keep trying. I just wanted you to understand +_fully_ that there is no hope." He went to the cargo hold. + +After he had gone, Rajcik grinned and shook his head. "We'd better watch +him." + +"He'll be all right," Somers said. + +"Maybe, maybe not." Rajcik pursed his lips thoughtfully. "He's blaming +the situation on a machine personality now, trying to absolve himself of +guilt. And it _is_ his fault that we're in this spot. An engineer is +responsible for all equipment." + +"I don't believe you can put the blame on him so dogmatically," Somers +replied. + +"Sure I can," Rajcik said. "I personally don't care, though. This is as +good a way to die as any other and better than most." + +Captain Somers wiped perspiration from his face. Again the notion came +to him that the problem--the _real_ problem--was to find a way out of +this hot, smelly, motionless little box. + +Rajcik said, "Death in space is an appealing idea, in certain ways. +Imagine an entire spaceship for your tomb! And you have a variety of +ways of actually dying. Thirst and starvation I rule out as +unimaginative. But there are possibilities in heat, cold, implosion, +explosion--" + +"This is pretty morbid," Somers said. + + * * * * * + +"I'm a pretty morbid fellow," Rajcik said carelessly. "But at least I'm +not blaming inanimate objects, the way Watkins is. Or permitting myself +the luxury of shock, like you." He studied Somers' face. "This is your +first real emergency, isn't it, Captain?" + +"I suppose so," Somers answered vaguely. + +"And you're responding to it like a stunned ox," Rajcik said. "Wake up, +Captain! If you can't live with joy, at least try to extract some +pleasure from your dying." + +"Shut up," Somers said, with no heat. "Why don't you read a book or +something?" + +"I've read all the books on board. I have nothing to distract me except +an analysis of your character." + +Watkins returned to the cabin. "Well, I've activated your big electronic +god. Would anyone care to make a burned offering in front of it?" + +"Have you given it the problem?" + +"Not yet. I decided to confer with the high priest. What shall I request +of the demon, sir?" + +"Give it all the data you can," Somers said. "Fuel, oxygen, water, +food--that sort of thing. Then tell it we want to return to Earth. +Alive," he added. + +"It'll love that," Watkins said. "It'll get such pleasure out of +rejecting our problem as unsolvable. Or better yet--insufficient data. +In that way, it can hint that a solution is possible, but just outside +our reach. It can keep us hoping." + +Somers and Rajcik followed him to the cargo hold. The computer, +activated now, hummed softly. Lights flashed swiftly over its panels, +blue and white and red. + +Watkins punched buttons and turned dials for fifteen minutes, then moved +back. + +"Watch for the red light on top," he said. "That means the problem is +rejected." + +"Don't say it," Rajcik warned quickly. + +Watkins laughed. "Superstitious little fellow, aren't you?" + +"But not incompetent," Rajcik said, smiling. + +"Can't you two quit it?" Somers demanded, and both men turned startedly +to face him. + +"Behold!" Rajcik said. "The sleeper has awakened." + +"After a fashion," said Watkins, snickering. + +Somers suddenly felt that if death or rescue did not come quickly, they +would kill each other, or drive each other crazy. + +"Look!" Rajcik said. + + * * * * * + +A light on the computer's panel was flashing green. + +"Must be a mistake," said Watkins. "Green means the problem is solvable +within the conditions set down." + +"Solvable!" Rajcik said. + +"But it's impossible," Watkins argued. "It's fooling us, leading us +on--" + +"Don't be superstitious," Rajcik mocked. "How soon do we get the +solution?" + +"It's coming now." Watkins pointed to a paper tape inching out of a slot +in the machine's face. "But there must be something wrong!" + +They watched as, millimeter by millimeter, the tape crept out. The +computer hummed, its lights flashing green. Then the hum stopped. The +green lights blazed once more and faded. + +"What happened?" Rajcik wanted to know. + +"It's finished," Watkins said. + +"Pick it up! Read it!" + +"You read it. You won't get _me_ to play its game." + +Rajcik laughed nervously and rubbed his hands together, but didn't move. +Both men turned to Somers. + +"Captain, it's your responsibility." + +"Go ahead, Captain!" + +Somers looked with loathing at his engineer and navigator. _His_ +responsibility, everything was _his_ responsibility. Would they never +leave him alone? + +He went up to the machine, pulled the tape free, read it with slow +deliberation. + +"What does it say, sir?" Rajcik asked. + +"Is it--possible?" Watkins urged. + +"Oh, yes," Somers said. "It's possible." He laughed and looked around at +the hot, smelly, low-ceilinged little room with its locked doors and +windows. + +"What is it?" Rajcik shouted. + + * * * * * + +Somers said, "You figured a few thousand years to return to the Solar +System, Rajcik? Well, the computer agrees with you. Twenty-three hundred +years, to be precise. Therefore, it has given us a suitable longevity +serum." + +"Twenty-three hundred years," Rajcik mumbled. "I suppose we hibernate or +something of the sort." + +"Not at all," Somers said calmly. "As a matter of fact, this serum does +away quite nicely with the need for sleep. We stay awake and watch each +other." + +The three men looked at one another and at the sickeningly familiar room +smelling of metal and perspiration, its sealed doors and windows that +stared at an unchanging spectacle of stars. + +Watkins said, "Yes, that's the sort of thing it would do." + + --NED LANG + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ June 1956. + 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 Death Wish, by Robert Sheckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH WISH *** + +***** This file should be named 29876.txt or 29876.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/7/29876/ + +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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