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diff --git a/30288-h/30288-h.htm b/30288-h/30288-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0785a25 --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/30288-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,560 @@ +<!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=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sight Gag, by Larry M. Harris + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + + + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft1 { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30288 ***</div> + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction May 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="450" height="459" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1>SIGHT GAG</h1> +<p> </p> +<h2>BY LARRY M. HARRIS</h2> +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Intelligence is a great help in the +evolution-by-survival—but intelligence without muscle is +even less useful than muscle without brains. But it's so +easy to forget that muscle—plain physical force—is +important, too!</p></div> +<p> </p> +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY SCHOENHERR</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div> +<p>ownstairs, the hotel register told Fredericks that Mr. John P. Jones +was occupying Room 1014. But Fredericks didn't believe the register. +He knew better than that. Wherever his man was, he wasn't in Room +1014. And whoever he was, his real name certainly wasn't John P. +Jones. "P for Paul," Fredericks muttered to himself. "Oh, the helpful +superman, the man who knows better, the man who does better."</p> + +<p>Fredericks had first known of him as FBI Operative 71-054P, under the +name of William K. Brady. "And what does the K stand for?" Fredericks +muttered, remembering. "Killer?" Brady wouldn't be the man's real +name, either. FBI Operatives had as many names as they had jobs, that +much was elementary. Particularly operatives like Jones-Brady-X. +"Special talents," Fredericks muttered. "Psi powers," he said, making +it sound like a curse. "Superman."</p> + +<p>Upstairs, in Room 1212, the superman sat in a comfortable chair and +tried to relax. He wasn't a trained telepath but he could read surface +thoughts if there were enough force behind them, and he could read the +red thoughts of the man downstairs. They worried him more than he +wanted to admit, and for a second he considered sending out a call for +help. But that idea died before it had been truly born.</p> + +<p>Donegan had told him he could handle the situation. Without weapons, +forbidden to run, faced by a man who wanted only his death, he could +handle the situation.</p> + +<p>Sure he could, he thought bitterly.</p> + +<p>Of course, if he asked for reinforcements he would undoubtedly get +them. The FBI didn't want one of its Psi Operatives killed; there +weren't enough to go round as it was. But calling for help, when +Donegan had specifically told him he wouldn't need it, would mean +being sent back a grade automatically. A man of his rank and +experience, Donegan had implied, could handle the job solo. If he +couldn't—why, then, he didn't deserve the rank. It was all very +simple.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, he was still fresh out of good ideas.</p> + +<p>The notion of killing Fredericks—using his telekinetic powers to +collapse the hotel room on the man, or some such, even if he wasn't +allowed to bear arms—had occurred to him in a desperate second, and +Donegan had turned it down very flatly. "Look," the Psi Section chief +had told him, "you got the guy's brother and sent him up for trial. +The jury found him guilty of murder, first degree, no recommendation +for mercy. The judge turned him over to the chair, and he fries next +week."</p> + +<p>"So let Fredericks take it out on the judge and jury," he'd said. "Why +do I have to be the sitting duck?"</p> + +<p>"Because ... well, from Fredericks' point of view, without you his +brother might never have been caught. It's logic—of a sort."</p> + +<p>"Logic, hell," he said. "The guy was guilty. I had to send him up. +That's my job."</p> + +<p>"And so is this," Donegan said. "That's our side of it. Fredericks +has friends—his brother's friends. Petty criminals, would-be +criminals, unbalanced types. You know that. You've read the record."</p> + +<p>"Read it?" he said. "I dug up half of it."</p> + +<p>Donegan nodded. "Sure," he said. "And we're going to have six more +cases like Fredericks' brother—murder, robbery, God knows what +else—unless we can choke them off somehow."</p> + +<p>"Crime prevention," he said. "And I'm in the middle."</p> + +<p>"That's the way the job is," Donegan said. "We're not superman. We've +got limits, just like everybody else. Our talents have limits."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "So?"</p> + +<p>"So," Donegan said, "we've got to convince Fredericks' friends—the +unbalanced fringe—that we are supermen, that we have no limits, that +no matter what they try against us they're bound to fail."</p> + +<p>"Nice trick," he said sourly.</p> + +<p>"Very nice," Donegan said. "And what's more, it works. Nobody except +an out-and-out psychotic commits a crime when he hasn't got a hope of +success. And these people aren't psychotics; most criminals aren't. +Show them they can't get away with a thing—show them we're +infallible, all-knowing, all-powerful supermen—and they'll be scared +off trying anything."</p> + +<p>"But killing Fredericks would do that just as well—" he began.</p> + +<p>Donegan shook his head. "Now, hold on," he said. "You're getting all +worked up about this. It's your first time with this stakeout +business, that's all. But you can't kill him. You can't kill except +when really necessary. You know that."</p> + +<p>"All right. But if he's going to kill me—"</p> + +<p>"That doesn't make it necessary, not this time," Donegan said. "This +vengeance syndrome doesn't last forever, you know. Block it, and +you're through with it. And think how much more effective it is, +letting Fredericks go back alive to tell the tale."</p> + +<p>"Think how much more effective it would be," he said, "if Fredericks +managed to get me."</p> + +<p>"He won't," Donegan said.</p> + +<p>"But without weapons—"</p> + +<p>"No Psi Operative carries weapons," Donegan said. "We don't need them. +We're supermen ... remember?"</p> + +<p>He twisted his face with a smile. "Easy for you to talk about it," he +said. "But I'm going to have to go out and face it—"</p> + +<p>"We've all faced it," Donegan said. "When I was an Operative I went +through it, too. It's part of the job."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"And I'm not going to tell you how to do the job," Donegan went on +firmly. "Either you know that by now, or you don't belong here."</p> + +<p>He got up to leave, slowly. "It's a fine way to find out," he said +mournfully.</p> + +<p>Donegan rose, too. "Good luck," he said. And meant it, too.</p> + +<p>That was the chief for you, he thought. Send you out into God knows +what with no weapons, no instructions, lots of help planted for the +man who wanted to kill you—and then wish you good luck at the end of +it.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he wondered why he didn't go in for some nice, peaceful job +of work—like rocket testing, for instance.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div> +<p>redericks, downstairs, was deciding to do things the subtle way. The +man upstairs—Jones, Brady or whatever his name was—deserved what he +was going to get. Psi powers were all very well, but there were +defenses against them. Briefly he thought of the man who'd sold him +the special equipment, and wondered why more criminals didn't know the +equipment existed. It worked; he was sure of that. Fredericks knew +enough of general psi theory to know when somebody was handing him a +snow job. And the equipment was no snow job.</p> + +<p>A force shield, that was the basic thing. A shield with no points of +entrance for anything larger than air molecules. Sight and sound could +get through, because the shield was constructed to allow selected +vibrations and frequencies. But no psi force could crack the shield.</p> + +<p>Fredericks has sat through a long explanation. Psi wasn't a physical +force; it was more like the application of a mental "set," in the +mathematical sense, to the existing order. But it could be detected by +specially built instruments—and a shield could be set up behind which +no detection was possible. It wasn't accurate to say that a psi force +was blocked by the shield; no construct can block that which has no +real physical existence. It was, more simply, that the shield created +a framework inside of which the universe existed in the absence of +psi.</p> + +<p>That wasn't very clear, either, Fredericks thought; but mathematics +was the only adequate language for talking about psi, anyhow. It had +been the theory of sets that had led to the first ideas of structure +and rationality within the field, and the math had gotten +progressively more complex ever since.</p> + +<p>Psi couldn't get through the shield, at any rate; that was quite +certain. And very little else could get in, or out. There was only one +point of exit. Unholstering his gun and aiming it automatically keyed +the shield to allow passage of a bullet, and the point of exit was +controlled by the gun's aiming. It was efficient and simple to handle.</p> + +<p>But Fredericks wasn't depending on the shield alone. There was a +binder field, too—a field which linked him to the surrounding area, +quite tightly. That took care of the chance that the Psi Operative +would try to pick him up, force shield and all, and throw him out a +window or through the roof. With the binder field in operation, no psi +force could move him an inch.</p> + +<p>A plug gas mask, too, inserted into the nostrils. The shield plus the +mask's pack held two hours' worth of air—just in case the Psi +Operative tried to throw poisonous molecules through the force +shield, or deprive him of oxygen.</p> + +<p>And then there was the blindfold. Such a simple thing, and so +effective.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_u.jpg" alt="U" width="49" height="50" /></div> +<p>pstairs, the Psi Operative caught the sequence of thoughts. Did the +FBI have to do such a thorough job, he wondered bitterly. The +equipment, he knew, would do everything Fredericks thought it would +do. It was important that Fredericks go up against the Operative +thinking he was completely protected—in that way his final defeat +would be most effective. He'd have guarded against every possible +failure—so, when he failed, there would be nothing to explain it.</p> + +<p>Except the "fact" that the Psi Operatives were supermen.</p> + +<p>He gritted his teeth. It would be nice, he reflected, to be a real +superman. But any talent has its limits. And, even allowing for that, +only Donegan and a very few others could handle the full theoretical +potentials of their talents. In theory, a telekineticist could move +any object with his mind that he could move with his hands. That was a +rough rule of thumb, but it worked. The larger objects were barred by +sheer mass; no matter what kind of force you're using, there's a limit +to how much of it you can apply.</p> + +<p>The smaller objects—molecules, electrons, photons—simply took +practice and training. First the object had to be visualized, and the +general structure memorized. Then the power had to be controlled +carefully enough so that you moved just what you wanted to move and +not, for instance, shift the Empire State Building while trying to +lift a molecule out of its topmast.</p> + +<p>It was possible, in theory, to create full sensory hallucinations by +juggling electron streams and molecules within the brain. But +memorizing the entire structure of the brain was a lifelong task, +since you also had to allow for individual variation, and that meant +working with "tracking" molecules inside each brain before any work +began. Most Operatives stuck to one area—usually, as most effective, +sight or sound.</p> + +<p>He was a sight man. He could create any visual hallucination, as long +as the subject was within a twenty-five-foot range. Beyond that, +control of the fantastically small electrons and photons simply became +too diffused.</p> + +<p>But Fredericks had a shield. And in case the shield didn't work, he +was coming with a blindfold.</p> + +<p>The Psi Operative had no weapons, no reinforcements, no chance to +run—nothing except his psi talent, which Fredericks had defenses +against, and his brains.</p> + +<p>But there had to be a way out.</p> + +<p>Didn't there?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he desk clerk looked young and comparatively innocent. Fredericks +ambled over, taking his time about it. The clerk looked up and smiled +distantly. "Yes, sir?"</p> + +<p>"You've got a man registered here," Fredericks said, in crisp, +official tones. "He gave the name of John P. Jones—"</p> + +<p>The clerk was consulting a card file. "Yes, sir," he said brightly. +"Room 1014."</p> + +<p>"He's at work on an FBI matter," Fredericks said. "Naturally, this is +private and confidential—"</p> + +<p>"Naturally," the clerk said in a subdued tone. "But I—"</p> + +<p>"I'm assigned to work with him," Fredericks said. "You understand."</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir," the clerk said, trying to look as if he did.</p> + +<p>Fredericks took a deep breath. "I know he's here, but I don't know his +room number," he said. "Some red-tape mixup."</p> + +<p>"He's in 1014," the clerk said hopefully.</p> + +<p>Fredericks shook his head. "Not that," he said. "The real room number. +Look, I've got to get to him immediately—"</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir," the clerk said. "Identification, sir?"</p> + +<p>Fredericks grinned and fished in pockets. Naturally, he didn't come up +with a thing, FBI identification was infra-red tested, totally +unmistakable and unavailable to non-Operatives under any circumstances +whatever. "Got it here some place," he muttered.</p> + +<p>The clerk nodded. "Of course, sir," he said. "No need to waste time. I +understand."</p> + +<p>Fredericks stopped and stared. "You what?"</p> + +<p>"The room, sir, is 1212," the clerk said. "Would you like me to +accompany you—"</p> + +<p>"No thanks," Fredericks breathed. "I'll find it myself." The man was +too easy to find, he thought savagely. It ought to be tough to find +him—but it's easy.</p> + +<p>Remotely, that idea bothered him. But what difference did it make, +after all? He had all the protection in the world. He had all the +protection he was going to need. And all the time to fire one shot. +Doing it blindfolded was going to be tough, but not insuperably tough. +Fredericks had spent a week practicing, and he could locate a fly by +sound within two inches, nineteen times out of twenty. That, he +thought, was going to be good enough.</p> + +<p>Upstairs, the Psi Operative thought so, too.</p> + +<p>There had to be a way out, he told himself desperately.</p> + +<p>But he couldn't find it.</p> + +<p>He couldn't even come close.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>n the way to Room 1212, he flipped on the shield, the mask, the +binder field. Now let the superman try something, he thought wildly. +Now let him try his tricks! He attached the blindfold as he got off +the elevator. He could see Room 1212, three doors down the corridor, +twenty steps—and then the blindfold was on. From now on he worked in +the dark.</p> + +<p>He felt the skeleton key in his palm and flipped the shield off for a +second; then the key was in the lock, the shield back on, protecting +him. The door opened slowly.</p> + +<p>He heard it shut behind him. Then there was silence. He drew his gun.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," a muffled voice said from his right. "Go ahead and try +something, Fredericks."</p> + +<p>He whirled and almost fired—but voices could be thrown. He listened +again. There was silence ... not quite silence ... a movement ... a +rustle—</p> + +<p>Breathing was faint but unmistakable. It gave him a new direction. +Breathing couldn't be faked.</p> + +<p>He pictured the Psi Operative, in one flash of imagination, trying to +get through the shield, sweating as he strained helplessly against the +force shield, the binder field, the mask, the blindfold—oh, there was +no way out for the poor superman, no way at all.</p> + +<p>And Psi Operatives didn't carry weapons or anything else. They +depended on their powers, and that was all.</p> + +<p>And he'd neutralized those powers.</p> + +<p>The breathing gave him the direction. He turned again, bringing the +gun up, and fired six shots without a second's break between them. +There was a sound like a gasp, and then nothing.</p> + +<p>Nothing at all.</p> + +<p>Grinning wildly, Fredericks whipped off the blindfold and switched off +his shield in one triumphant motion. There, on the floor—</p> + +<p>There, on the floor, was a nice gray rug with nobody at all lying dead +on top of it. In the half-second it took Fredericks to see that, the +Psi Operative moved. Fredericks tossed the empty gun at him and +missed; the man was coming too fast. He guarded his face but the Psi +Operative didn't go for the face. Instead his hands went swinging up +and out and <i>back</i>.</p> + +<p>The sides of the palms landed neatly on the twin junctions of +Fredericks' arms and shoulders. Fredericks let out a shriek as his +arms turned to acutely painful stone, and the Psi Operative stepped +back and moved again in one blinding motion. This time the solar +plexus was the target for one balled fist.</p> + +<p>And then, of course, it was all over.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_o1.jpg" alt="O" width="60" height="54" /></div> +<p>f course it was simple," Donegan said. "Anyone could have thought of +it—and I knew you would."</p> + +<p>"All the same," the Psi Operative said, "I nearly didn't."</p> + +<p>Donegan nodded. "If you hadn't," he said, "we'd stationed a man +downstairs who'd memorized your room. He could have done the job, +too."</p> + +<p>The Operative blinked. "Who?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Desk clerk," Donegan said.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me—"</p> + +<p>"Now, use your head," Donegan said. "If you'd known you were all +right, you'd never have thought of the answer. You had to prove you +could do it—prove it to yourself as well as to me."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"And you had to prove you could beat him on his grounds, too, as well +as yours," Donegan went on. "You had to take him, not only with psi +forces, but with the only weapons a Psi Operative is allowed to +carry."</p> + +<p>"Fists," the Operative said. "Sure Judo and Karate are standard +subjects—every Operative has to know them. What's so tough about +that?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Donegan said. "Nothing at all—except for Fredericks. He's +been beaten on your ground, and on his own. Now he <i>knows</i> he's +licked. Standard operating procedure."</p> + +<p>"I guess so," the Operative said.</p> + +<p>"And after all," Donegan said, "now that you're going up a grade—"</p> + +<p>"Now that I'm what?"</p> + +<p>"That," Donegan said, "was your promotion test, friend. And you +passed."</p> + +<p>There was a second of absolute silence. Then the Operative said: "And +it was all so simple."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Donegan said. "Simple enough so that you get a promotion out +of it—and Fredericks gets sixty days for attempted assault."</p> + +<p>"Not ADW—assault with a deadly weapon—because we've got to keep up +the myth," the Operative said. "Psi Operatives are untouchable. No +such thing as a deadly weapon for a Psi Operative."</p> + +<p>"Which is nonsense," Donegan said, "but necessary nonsense. I wonder +if Fredericks will ever figure out how you got him."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," the Operative said. "He'll know about karate, of course."</p> + +<p>"Karate's hand-to-hand fighting." Donegan said. "That was <i>his</i> field. +No, I mean <i>our</i> field. Psi."</p> + +<p>"It makes a nice puzzle for him, doesn't it?" the Operative said, and +grinned. "After all, I didn't touch him—couldn't, in any way. He'd +shielded himself perfectly from any telekinetic force—and I had no +weapons. I couldn't even get to him barehanded because of his shield +and the binder field. He had me located—no tomfoolery about that. He +fired six shots at me, point-blank at can't-miss range."</p> + +<p>"But you got him," Donegan said.</p> + +<p>"Sure," the Operative said. "Simplest thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"All you had to do—" Donegan began.</p> + +<p>"All I had to do," the Operative finished for him, "was use my mind to +move the bullets—as he fired them."</p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="250" height="104" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30288 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_001.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..939ca1e --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_001.jpg diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_002.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cfb633b --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_002.jpg diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_d.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_d.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c80263 --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_d.jpg diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_f.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_f.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ed7f74 --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_f.jpg diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_o.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_o.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..45d6c7e --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_o.jpg diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_o1.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_o1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a0f5b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_o1.jpg diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_t.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_t.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c51d25a --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_t.jpg diff --git a/30288-h/images/image_u.jpg b/30288-h/images/image_u.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8dfb002 --- /dev/null +++ b/30288-h/images/image_u.jpg |
