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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9360eb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50063 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50063) diff --git a/old/50063-8.txt b/old/50063-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 81cf536..0000000 --- a/old/50063-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6311 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of People Minus X, by Raymond Zinke Gallun - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: People Minus X - -Author: Raymond Zinke Gallun - -Release Date: September 27, 2015 [EBook #50063] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEOPLE MINUS X *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - PEOPLE MINUS X - - by RAYMOND Z. GALLUN - - - ACE BOOKS, INC. - 23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y. - - - PEOPLE MINUS X - - Copyright, 1957, by Raymond Z. Gallun - - An Ace Book, by arrangement with Simon and Schuster, Inc. - - All Rights Reserved - - Printed in U.S.A. - - [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any - evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was - renewed.] - - - - -I - - -Ed Dukas was writing letters. Someone or something was also -writing--unseen but at his elbow. It was perhaps fifteen minutes before -he noticed. Conspicuous at the center of the next blank sheet of paper -he reached for, part of a word was already inscribed: - -"_Nippe ..._" - -The writing was faint and wavering but in the same shade of blue ink as -that in his own pen. - -Ed Dukas said "Hey?" to himself, mildly. - -The frown creases between his hazel eyes deepened. They were evidence -of strain that was not new. The stubby forefinger and thumb of his -right hand rubbed their calloused whorls together. Surprise on his -square face gave way to a cool watchfulness that, in the last ten years -of guarded living, had been grimed into his nature. Ed Dukas was now -twenty-two. This era was hurtling and troubled. Since his childhood, -Ed had become acquainted with wonder, beauty, hate, opportunity and -disaster on a cosmic level, luxury, adventure, love. Sometimes he had -even found peace of mind. - -He put down his pen, leaving the letter he had been writing suspended -in mid-sentence: - -... _Pardon the preaching, Les. Human nature and everything else seems -booby-trapped. They drummed the idea of courage and careful thinking -into us at school. Because so much that is new and changing is a big -thing to handle. Still, we'll have to stick to a course of action._ - - * * * * * - -Now Ed sat with his elbows on his table, that other, no longer quite -blank, sheet of paper held lightly in his hands. He sat there, a stocky -young man, his hair cut short like a hedge, the clues of his existence -around him: student banners on the walls; a stereoptic picture of his -track team--in color of course; ditto for his astrophysics class; his -bookcase; his tiny sensipsych set; and the delicate instruments that -any guy who hoped to reach the next human goal, the nearer stars, had -to learn about. - -His girl's picture, part of any youth's pattern of life for the last -three centuries, smiled from beside him on the table. Dark. Strong as -girls were apt to be, these days. Beautiful in a rough-hewn way. But -even with all that strength to rely on, he was worried about her more -than ever now. Times were strange. He glanced at her likeness once. -Then his gaze bounced back to the paper in his hands. - -His nerves tingled at the eerie thing that was happening there. He -didn't know whether to feel afraid of it or hopeful. Man was stumbling -toward ultimate mastery of his own flesh and the forces of the -universe. But the distance remained enormous, though technical science -was moving forward, perhaps too swiftly, on all fronts. Part of Ed's -fear before the unknown was like the stage fright of an inexperienced -actor. You never quite knew what was ahead or how to judge anything -strange that you saw. - -"_Nippe...._" - -At the end of the line which made the "e" there was a tiny speck of -blue ink. Almost imperceptibly, like the minute hand of a clock, it -crept on, curving and looping to form another letter. - -"_Nipper_" the word was now. - -This could be somebody's funny gag, Ed thought. Somebody with a gadget. -The world is full of gadgets these days. Maybe too full. - -It occurred to him that a pal might be playing a joke with some simple -device bought in a novelty store. But probability leaned toward -something deeper and more costly. Who knew? Someone might have invented -a way to make a man invisible. You didn't deny that anything could be, -any more. - -"Speak up!" he ordered softly. - -But no answer came, and his wondering gaze found nothing unusual in the -room around him. He froze. "_Nipper._" It could be part of a message, -an honest attempt to convey vitally important information. Or it could -be the forerunner of violence aimed in his direction. Through no fault -of his own, he had had enemies for ten years. Tonight they might -really act. To die was still possible. In spite of vitaplasm. Or the -more tedious method that employed natural flesh. Or the tiny cylinders -hidden away in vaults. Lives were now in danger again. Human, and -almost human.... - -For a moment Ed wanted to give a warning and to call others into -consultation. He wanted to shout, "Dad! Mom! Come here!" - -He didn't do so. Between him and the precise, benign personality that -he called Dad there was a gradually growing barrier. And for his -mother, beautiful and young by art and science, he had that feeling of -male protectiveness that takes the form of keeping possible dangers -hidden. - -Ed decided to work on his own. Being essentially careful and slow -moving when it came to delicate processes, he had not touched that -creeping droplet of ink. Its secret might thus be destroyed. No, he'd -never do a thing so foolish. - -Swiftly he folded the paper and fastened the writing under his -microscope. The ink speck was almost dry now, and nothing was hidden in -it. The line of the writing itself was odd under magnification. Here -and there it showed tiny, irregular dots at spaced intervals, connected -by fine, dragging marks. That was all. - -Of course he realized that _Nipper_ might be only the first cryptic -word of a message and that he had only to wait and see what would -follow. - -Until he began to wait, however, the significance of the word itself -eluded him. A child's nickname was all that it suggested. - -But now his mind bore down on it. And he had the answer almost at -once. A small boy climbing the wall of a pretty garden. And his casual -christening by a pleasant stranger who met him thus for the first time. -Among more vivid and significant details, the memory of the name itself -had been mislaid. But Ed Dukas knew that in his boyhood one person had -always called him Nipper: Uncle Mitch Prell, and nobody else. Now it -seemed like a secret sign. - -Ed gulped, his reaction suspended somewhere between shocked pleasure -and a frosty sense of eeriness. To have a friend, whom he had loved -as a child, vanish into space and into apparent nonexistence after -becoming a fugitive, and then to have what _seemed_ to be this -friend try to communicate again after ten years, and in this weird -manner--well--how would you say it? Ghosts, of course, were pure -superstition. But in this age one could still react as if to the -supernatural--with tingling hide and quickened heartbeats. In fact, -with the vast growth of technology, more than ever was such a feeling -possible. - -"Uncle Mitch!" Ed Dukas called quietly. - -Again there was no reply. The name on the paper still could be somebody -else's trick. Granger's, maybe. There were ways for him to have learned -a nickname. Many people might admire Granger as much as others despised -him. And it was hard to say what he might do, or when. Or how, for that -matter. He was clever. And wrong. - -There was still another thing to remember. Ed did not altogether love -the memory of his uncle, Dr. Mitchell Prell. For this famous scientist -was marked with the stigma of responsibility for a terrific mishap. No, -Prell did not bear the burden alone. There were other scientists, it -was said, who had poked too roughly, and with too sharp a stick, into -Nature's deepest lair. Nature had snarled back. Ed had grown up with -the public hate that had resulted. He had fought against it, yet he had -felt it, until sometimes he did not know where he himself stood. - -Now he waited for more writing to be traced on the paper under the -microscope. A minute passed, but there was nothing more. He did notice, -however, that the letters of that one word matched roughly the austere -handwriting of his uncle. - -Once he glanced toward the window with some nervousness. Outside, the -night was glorious. Never again would nights be hideous as they once -had been. He saw lush gardens under silver light. If any devilish -thing not known until recent months slithered through the shadows, it -kept hidden. Ed saw other neighboring houses. New trees had grown to -fair size in ten years. Older and larger trees remained lopsided and -gnarled. But their burn scars had healed. - -Otherwise there was nothing left to monument the past--except, perhaps, -the sullen mutter of voices in nearby streets. - -But Ed Dukas's mind, triggered by the name _Nipper_ and by awareness -of Mitchell Prell, slipped briefly away from the present. He had -often explored memory to find understanding. At school, after the -catastrophe, psychiatrists had made every kid do that. So that neuroses -might be broken or lessened or avoided. So that animal terror would not -draw a curtain over a mental record of an interlude. So that memory -might not be lodged, like a red coal of hysteria, in the subconscious. - - * * * * * - -Like a trained dog leaping through a flaming hoop, Ed Dukas's thoughts -plunged back to that zone where his earliest memories faded into the -mists of infancy: - -A birthday cake with two candles. A fountain splashing in the patio of -this same house. A dachshund, Schnitz, which a little boy put in almost -the same category as the flat, rubber-tired robots that cleaned the -rooms. Where was the distinction between machines and animals? - -Flowers, hummingbirds, and butterflies in the garden. The echoes of -footsteps on stone floors. Toy space ships and star ships at Christmas. -The star ships were things yet to become real.... There was endless -interest in life then. But even in those days there were signs of -cautious and puzzled guidance. - -There was the sensipsych, of course. It was a wonderful box of dark -wood in the living room. A soft couch folded down from it. There you -lay, and for a moment strange golden light flickered into your eyes. -You went to sleep, but you did not really go to sleep. For you became -someone else. Maybe a cartoon character in a world where everything -looked different. Funny things happened to you that frightened you at -first; but then you laughed when you found that there was no harm in -them. - -Or, instead of being in such a crazy fairyland, you might be a real -boy in space armor jumping across the surface of a huge chunk of rock -called an asteroid, while stars and a blazing white sun stared at you -from blackness. You were very busy helping others to roof the asteroid -with crystal, and to put air underneath, and to build houses and -factories where people might live and work. Always more and more people -spreading out and out to populate the empty worlds of space. - -But you were never on that sensipsych couch for very long, or too -often. You would wake up, and there was Mom saying, "Enough, fella. -A little of that sort of thing goes a great way, even when the -experiences are rugged and educational and not just whimsical nonsense." - -Ed Dukas would be angry and puzzled. For it had seemed that those -visions, going on without end, could bring joy forever. - -"You'll understand sometime, Eddie," his mother would say, consoling -him. "What happens to you by sensipsych is just make-believe. What we -call recorded sensory experience. Some of it really happened to other -people. Some of it is just made up. It can teach you things. But too -much is very bad. Not so long ago folks found out." - -There was something tender and hard and even scared in his mother's -words. - -Ed's dad also had his comments. Dad was something called a minerals -expert. - -"Come on, Eddie, let's rassle," he'd say. "Stick your chin out, boy. -Let's see how tough you can look. No, not mean-tough.... That's better. -We've got to lick the times we live in. And something in ourselves. -With machines doing so much for us, life can be soft. And sensipsych -dreams are soft. Everything in moderation. Dreams can make you feel as -helpless as an oyster. Until you despise yourself and the whole race. -Yes, people found out. They were always meant to feel strong and proud, -and they must have tasks equal to their increasing powers. Otherwise -there's spiritual rot. We've got to be ready for anything, feel our -way, try to be ready to keep our balance for whatever comes. Because -life could be terrible, too, if the wonderful forces we control got out -of hand. We've got to go on progressing--moving out to the planets, and -then maybe the stars. Got to go either ahead or backward. Can't stand -still. And it's easy to go backward nowadays. Got to fight that, Eddie, -or else there might be a kind of death." - -"What is death, Dad?" - -Ed's father would answer his son's serious expression with a gay grin. -"A kind of myth, now, boy. Just going to sleep and never waking up. We -hope it's mostly finished, for everybody. Even the disease of old age -turned out to be something like rust gathering in a pipe. Simple. It -can be fixed up. Some people even let themselves get old. But they can -be made young again. Always." - -Eddie had other questions. - -"You were born in the old way, Eddie," his mother said. "But _so many_ -people are needed now to populate the solar system. So everybody can't -be born from his mother's body. There's another way; almost the same, -really. Babies are born--they're made, really--in a laboratory. Then -they live in a youth center, like the one on the hill." - -Eddie saw its great white spire looming among the trees. Often he could -hear voices in the gardens and playgrounds on the terraced setbacks of -its many levels. The voices seemed mysterious somehow. - -Even then Eddie sensed the groping and confusion that was in his -parents' minds. Sometimes his mother would speak fervently to his -father: "Jack, I'd never choose to live in another age. I love it. -Because it's rich, endlessly varied, exciting. Is that why I'm often -scared out of my wits? Even disgusted often enough with my selfish self -and all the automatic devices? I love my work, the planning of pleasant -interiors. I'm so busy there doesn't even seem to be time for another -child. Yet maybe there are centuries ahead, Jack. How does one fill -centuries without getting fed up? And are we supposed to be something -superhuman in the end? Or do we wind up like the ancient Martians and -the beings of the Asteroid Planet, before it was blown to millions of -pieces? Wiped out in super-conflict, before they could progress very -much further than we are now?" - -Most of this went over Eddie's head. But it left a smoky tension to -lurk in his mind behind the peaceful presence of sun and trees. People -had made their world more beautiful for their own relaxed enjoyment. -Yet even in those days Eddie sensed the turbulent undercurrent deep -inside them. - -Once his father expressed a vagrant thought: "Maybe we should go out -to Venus sometime, Eileen. Start life over more simply in an uncrowded -planet that's being conditioned to receive our ancient race. Maybe -we'll do it in just a few years." He grinned. - -"Yes," Eddie's mother replied. "If being indefinitely young and alive -doesn't fool us before then. If our complicated civilization doesn't -crack open and spit fire, and vaporize everybody. Death by violence is -still definitely possible. You know, lots of our friends are getting -their bodies and minds recorded so that they can be restored in case -of serious injury. Maybe we should have done it long ago." - -Jack Dukas met her concern with a light tease: "A woman's worry -matched against the stubbornness of a man--eh, Eileen? There's -something unnatural about being recorded that I rebel against. Don't -be too troubled, though. The centuries won't slip from our fingers so -immediately. I hardly ever touch a dangerous thing in my work. Besides, -safety devices are almost perfect." - -Such serious, troubled thoughts did not dim the optimism and eagerness -of young Ed Dukas. His private dreams soared into the thrills of -Someday. His small hands were impatient to grasp the shadowy shapes -of the future, more legendary than the not-distant past with its -still-living heroes: Roland, who was largely responsible for the -rejuvenation process; Schaeffer, who developed the sensipsych, brought -on the dream-world period of decay, and in the end helped Harwell -defeat the trap of emasculating visions by urging mankind back toward a -vigorous grip on reality; and the hundreds of others who had taken part. - -But the first visit of Mitchell Prell, when Ed Dukas was five, was, -to the boy, like acquaintance with a legend. "Hi, Nipper!" were the -first words his uncle had spoken to Eddie. Dr. Mitchell Prell was his -mother's brother. He was a much smaller man than Eddie's dad, and dark -instead of blond. He was famous. And he brought gifts. - -"A piece of the Moon, Nipper," he said. "An opal imbedded naturally -in gold. For your mom. And this case of instruments dug up in Martian -ruins, for your dad. Fifty million years old but better than anything -designed by human beings for locating ores far underground. And this -for you--also from Mars. I haven't been there for a long time. But I -got an old friend to send me the stuff--to the labs on the Moon." - -Maybe Eddie's gift had once been a toy for the off-spring of extinct -Martian monsters. It was triangular like a kite, metallic, with a -faint lavender sheen. When you whistled a certain way, a jet of air -made it rise high in the sky. But it always came back. Atomic power was -in it somewhere. For it never ran out of energy. - -Uncle Mitch never seemed to say much. He didn't get deep into -philosophy. He set up queer apparatus in his room, and a kid could look -at it if he didn't touch. And to one of Dad's questions he answered -briefly, "Yes, we're making headway in the labs on the Moon. There'll -be a motor for star ships. If, in our experiments, hyperspace itself -doesn't burst at the seams under that level of power. No, we're not yet -trying for speeds of more than a fraction of that of light. A trip to a -star will take a long time." - -It soon came out that Uncle Mitch had another interest. He kept in a -glass tube something that squirmed and wriggled, and felt like warm -flesh though its natural form, when at rest, was a slender cylinder of -pencil size. - -About that he would only say, "Call it alive if you want to. But not -like us. Invented and artificial, and far more rugged than our flesh. -For the rest, wait and see if anything comes of it. Maybe it'll become -the clay of the superman. Schaeffer, here on Earth, is working on it, -too." - -Uncle Mitch stayed for a week. Then he was gone, rocketing out to the -labs, isolated for safety at the center of a _mare_ on the always -hidden hemisphere of the Moon. - -"Mitch knows what he wants and is direct about it," was Jack Dukas's -comment. "Simple. No conflicts. The scientist's approach. Wise or -stupid? Who knows?" - -Eddie was six, and then seven. The years moved slowly, but he grew -and hardened with them. By the time he was twelve, sports and study -and awareness of realities had toughened his body and matured his -soul considerably. That was fortunate, for this was his and mankind's -fateful year. The day came when the household robots were fixing up the -guestroom specially for Uncle Mitch again. Dad was afield, a hundred -miles away, to look over a vein of quartz crystal that was to be -shipped to the lunar laboratories. At 9:00 P.M. Eddie's father -had not yet returned. - -Eddie was sprawled on his bed looking lazily at the translucent blue -font of the lamp beside it. The color was rich and beautiful, the -carvings snaky and odd. Here was another gift, ordered by Uncle Mitch -from a friend in the region of the Asteroids. The font was an artifact -of a race contemporary with the Martians who had also lost their fight -to master nature and themselves through knowledge. The font had been -found floating free in space, among the wreckage of a planet blown to -pieces ages back. - -Eddie was thinking of such things. He was also thinking of neighborhood -pals, to whom he had bragged about his uncle and his expected arrival. - -As for what happened at that moment: there _was_ transpatial warning, -radioed out fifteen seconds ahead, telling of forces gone hopelessly -out of control in the lunar laboratories. But Eddie's set was not -functioning, and he did not hear it. - -Beyond the windows of his room there was just calm, pale moonlight. The -Moon looked little different than it always looked, except for the blue -spots of the atmosphere domes of the great mining centers. - -But then came the intolerable blue-white light. Perhaps, somewhere, -exposed instruments measured its intensity. On the roofs of -meteorological stations, maybe. Say conservatively that, for the space -of a few seconds, it was five hundred times as strong as full sunshine. - -Night was broken off. But there was no day like this. For one fragment -of a second Eddie glanced at the window. Shadows seemed gone, utterly. -Even dark things like tree trunks reflected so much light that they -all but vanished in the shimmering glare. As yet, it was a soundless -phenomenon. - -Eddie shut his eyes and buried his face in his pillow. This reflex -action, partly as natural as terror and partly the result of training -for emergencies at school, saved his vision. He might have screamed, -had he been able to find his voice. Distantly, he heard human sounds -that increased the sickness in his stomach. A gentle scene and mood, -product of science, had been utterly shattered by forces of the same -origin. - -He did not see the fuzzy blob of incandescence that bloomed in the sky -and expanded slowly for many seconds. In fact, no one saw it; only -cameras, fitted with special dark filters, would have been able to do -so. For living eyes would have been charred by that splendor. - -He heard his mother calling his name. Keeping his eyelids tightly -closed and an elbow bent over them, he fumbled his way to the hall, and -to her. They dropped to the floor and huddled there. - -Outside, voices died away. By then the devilish glory in the sky was -fading a little, too, at the edges. Only the heart of the great blob -still blazed supernally, with its millions of degrees of heat. Around -it was a cooling fog of dust and gases that masked the hell within it. - -The world grew still for a few moments, as it does at the center of -a typhoon. Then there was a great, soft roaring. The shock wave of -expanded, rarefied gases, speeding at many hundreds of miles per -second, striking the upper terrestrial atmosphere, and pressing down. -Eddie could feel the pressure of it, transmitted by the air--a light -but definite punching inward of his flesh, from all sides. - -Then there was a distant sighing of wind--air, super-heated and -compressed, being forced outward. Next came the resurgence of human -sounds, if they were truly that any more. - -Someone was yelling, "Oh, God ... Oh, God ... Oh, God...." There was a -crackle and smell of fire. Something blew up far off. - -Then the earthquakes began. With a sharp snap, rock strata far -underground broke. Then came a jolt. Eddie Dukas and his mother, -huddled on the floor, were engulfed in a swaying sensation, smooth and -vibrationless. Then the ground quivered softly. After that, there -was a pause, as of something hanging precariously for a moment at the -jagged lip of a chasm. Suddenly the pathetic hold seemed to be broken, -and the whole world was seized by a tooth-cracking chatter. A pause.... -Then it began again. - -For a second Eddie's mother almost lost her control. She tried to rise. -"The house!" she stammered. "It'll fall on us." - -Panic and reason fought inside Eddie. "No, Mom," he gasped. "The house -has a steel frame. It'll probably hold together. Outside, we don't know -what would happen to us." - -They both braced themselves for the next seismic burst. They were -both creatures of luxury, science-made. But planning, training, -psychology--science it all was, too--had given them ruggedness and -courage, a reserve of strength against hysteria--while the earth -rattled again and again. - -Eddie's mom kept saying things, and it was all something like a formula -that had been learned, a rote, a parroted incantation: "You're right, -Eddie. We've got to think before we do anything. They always tell us -that life is an adventure. We've got to meet a bigger future or be -destroyed, Eddie. Everything takes nerve." - -At last the earthquake shocks lessened both in intensity and frequency. -Maybe the worst was over. - -Eddie risked an eye, and then nudged his mother. - -Beyond the undamaged flexoglass of the windows night had returned, -red-lit from both sky and ground. The firmament was smeared with -a ruddy glow extending in a great curve, beaded with more intense -blobs at several points. Dust of the Moon, it had to be. Of its rock -and pumice shell. And of its core of meteoric iron. But that sullen -effulgence was fading now, as matter cooled and began simply to reflect -solar light back to this dark side of Earth. - -Yet everywhere outside there was fire. The towering glow in the -east--that would be the City, fifty miles away. Destruction and -confusion there would be unimaginable. Nearer at hand, trees were -aflame--leaves and branches that minutes ago had been cool with -greenness now blazed wildly. Mixed with the tumult of voices was the -clang of robot fire units. - -Eddie rushed to the radio and turned it on, as he had been taught to -do in emergencies. You listened; you obeyed directions. "... lunar -blowup," someone was saying. "Follow the usual precautions and measures -for radioactive contamination and flesh burns. Rescue and relief units -are already in action. Fortunately most of our buildings are not made -of combustible materials...." - -For minutes Eddie was furiously busy, rubbing special salves and -lotions into the skin of his entire body. Then, dressed in fresh -clothes, he and his mother just stared out of the windows for a while. -Outside, metal shapes were at work. Science and civilization were -working efficiently to recapture their balance after an upset that -might have been the end. - -Eddie and his mother explored the house and found it mostly intact. -Then incident piled on incident in quick succession. The first of these -began with a whimper at the door. Masked with respirators against -possible radioactive taints in the outside air, they opened it. A -blackened thing without eyes dragged itself inside, quivered once, and -lay still. It was death among supposed immortals. The passing of a -dachshund called Schnitz. - -Eddie was dazed. Child-grief or man-grief had no chance to come to him -then. Events moved too fast. There was too much to be done. - -A half-dozen people in radiation armor came into the house. At once -it was converted into a first-aid station. Hard law and hard drills, -blueprinted long before for disaster, came into play. Eddie's mother -joined the crew. Nor was he left out of it. There was coffee for him to -prepare in the kitchen, and rugs and furniture to be cleared away, and -equipment to be set up. - -He saw blood and death, and hysteria-twisted faces. He saw glinting, -complex instruments and apparatus, as the therapeutic methods of the -age were applied. There were blood pumps that could serve as hearts -and machines to duplicate the functions of kidneys and lungs. There -were devices to teleport scattered body cells from a dozen healthy -individuals, converting them briefly into mobile energy, and then back -into living tissue in the body of an injured person. - -Mostly the maimed and burned remained stolid and calm. Luxury had -not weakened them. They, too, had known their era and had had some -preparation. - -Eddie recognized a child of his own age among those who came into -his own house: a neighbor boy named Les Payten, the son of a noted -biologist. He had big ears and a freckled nose. He wasn't hurt badly. -His eyes were inflamed. He hadn't shut them quite quickly enough. He -had turned sullen, and his lip trembled a bit. Otherwise he was still -full of pepper. - -"Braggin' about your Uncle Mitch _now_, Eddie?" he taunted. "Great -stuff, that guy! He and his pal scientists nearly got us all. Better -luck next time, huh?" - -Young Ed Dukas might have growled back but he did not. As if he too -carried a burden of responsibility, his jaw hardened and his cheeks -hollowed. His back stiffened, as if to bear the load. He returned to -the kitchen. He had not yet noticed any other signs of blame. It was -too soon. The shock of cosmic catastrophe had deadened minds. Sometimes -prejudice and hatred need a certain leisurely brooding to build them up. - -But another raw realization had come to Eddie. As soon as there was a -moment to speak to his mother he said, "Uncle Mitch was supposed to -land in the City spaceport tonight. It's a six-hour run from the Moon. -But now he'll never get here." - -She shook her head. And in her expression there was fury mixed with her -sadness. - -He didn't think about that very long as he helped carry a stretcher. -His mind was on Mitchell Prell--grinning, setting up a lab in the room -upstairs, even modeling wax with his swift fingers. He had once molded -little heads of Mom and Dad. A lump gathered in Eddie's throat for -someone who would never be back. Mitchell Prell. Even the name sounded -nice. - -Then slowly another question came into his mind. _Where was Dad?_ He'd -gone out to that quartz lode and hadn't come back! Funny, thought -Eddie, I hadn't even thought about that. Well, it came from taking Dad -for granted. Someone never to worry about. Someone always around, like -the hills. Eddie clenched his fists to steady himself. No use worrying -yet. - -Now the torrential rains began. Steam had been boiled out of the ground -by heat. Now it was condensing. Helping, maybe, as the radio said, to -wash away the poison of the radioactive meteorites and dust that were -falling to Earth--wreckage that hours before had been part of the Moon. - -Somewhere out in the moaning storm a bell chimed out ten o'clock very -calmly. It must have been about then that what was left of Jack Dukas -was brought home in a truck. Eddie didn't see this happen. He was -helping again with the injured. And later, when Les Payten told him, -Mom wouldn't let him go into the locked room where his dad had been -taken. He almost told her that he had a right. But he did not want to -disturb her further. - -Eddie was up till 4:00 A.M. By then the rescue crew had left -the house and a tentative calm had been restored in the world. The -injured were in hospitals, rigged in tents and public buildings. But -there were far more dead. Anyone caught more than a step from shelter -when the catastrophe had occurred was apt to belong to that endless -list. Half a planet had been scorched by heat and radiation. - -While the guard-robots rumbled through the rain on their caterpillar -treads, Eddie simply passed out from weariness on the floor of the -living room. His mother managed to arouse him a little but not enough -to send him to bed. Rather, she folded down the twin couches from the -sensipsych set. She made her husky young son climb up onto one of them -and took the other for herself. - -He slept, and his body was refreshed. And he had dreams--not dreams -in which he was an imaginary cartoon character; nor was he toiling to -make dead asteroids habitable; nor was he enjoying an adventure on -some imaginary planet among the stars. No, for the present he had had -enough of strain. Instead he lay in grass by a little lake. The sun -was bright. There were boats with colored sails, and blue flamingos -flying, and odd, elfin music. The sensipsych was not an opiate to fill -the emptiness of soft lives now. It was rest; it was honest, relieving -therapy. - -Young Ed Dukas didn't see the mud-spattered truck arrive, to be parked -some distance from the house. He did not see the figure moving in the -dense shadows. It knocked cautiously at the front door, waited for a -reasonable time, and then went around to the porch in the rear. There -skillful fingers worked carefully to release the lock. Massive luggage -was lifted without sound inside the door. - -Eddie awoke with a small, hard hand shaking his shoulder. His mother -was already awake. The light was on. At first only with simple -unbelief, they beheld a slight, disheveled figure. - -Uncle Mitch's cheek was scraped. His hands were filthy. His recently -neat business suit was torn. An old jauntiness about his eyes fought -with worry, regret and wariness. - -"Hello, Eileen," he said. "Hi, Nipper." - -He received no answer. Somehow even Eddie felt compelled to silence. So -his uncle shifted to what was a rarity with him--a kind of historical -or philosophical summary. - -"Progress," he said with a forced laugh. "The world government -answering the threat of atomic war, years ago. Then the greatest -boon of the human race: eternal youth, and death's defeat except by -violence, producing the problem of overpopulation, to be relieved by -the colonization of the solar system. Then peace and boredom and the -sensipsych dreams leading to decadence, loss of pride in self and even -rebellious violence; then the solution of vigorous, realistic action, -more and more people to enjoy life, more and more colonies. Then, as we -reach out for the stars, this. Life. The great adventure that can't be -stopped. The rise from barbarism. Is it even well begun?" - -His words, half appropriate and half in supremely bad taste now, as -Mitchell Prell well knew--though he had to say them because of the need -to say something--still fell into a void of silence and echoed through -the house like a cheap speech. - -Sighing raggedly, he tried again: "Yes, I'm alive, Eileen. The ship -from the Moon was in space before the blowup happened. We rode ahead of -the main shock wave at high speed. So we won through. From the final -warning message from the Moon, I gather that trouble started in the -warp chambers. The heat and pressure were restrained by the tight space -warp for a while, until inter-dimensional barriers ripped wide open. -The whole mass of the Moon was in the way. By old standards it couldn't -happen; but a lot of lunar atoms went all to pieces in a flare of high -energy. The tough part is that we achieved a workable motor principle -for stellar ships weeks ago. The blowup came from side line testing." - -Once more no words answered Mitchell Prell when he stopped talking. He -waited, but his sister's eyes remained cold. - -"All right, Eileen," he went on at last. "You're thinking that I am one -of the specialists who is responsible for this. Surely I'm the only -survivor among those research men who were on the Moon. But remember -this: we weren't working on our own. We were hired, under a democratic -system, and told what to hunt for. It was the best that could be -done, except that the lab should have been put farther away, on some -lonely asteroid. Logically, then, we are not solely to blame for what -has happened. But it doesn't work that way, Eileen. Under grief and -hysteria logic still collapses, even in our time. In a real crisis -there continue to be many people who need scapegoats. A collective -mishap, the result of a mass desire for more knowledge, then becomes a -personal guilt. So I'm a fugitive, Eileen." - -It was a strange, bitter thing for Eddie Dukas to watch--his mother and -uncle facing each other, not friends, his mother's face a hard mask of -coldness. - -Then, all at once, her icy poise crumbled. "Jack isn't alive any more," -she said. "My husband. That's the fact that I know best. You with your -glib talk, my brother, are one person directly in the chain of events -that caused Jack's death. I don't accuse you, Mitch. I just say that I -can't look on you now with any pleasure. That's all." - -Then, sitting there on the sensipsych couch, she began to cry. It was -painful for Eddie to watch. He had never seen her do that before. - -But Mitchell Prell chuckled. He sat beside his sister and put his arm -around her. "Are things so bad?" he chided. "Look, Eileen. People used -to consider biological life the deepest secret of nature. Because -he was at the top of his local life scale, man would not have been -flattered to know that the vital force in him wasn't the greatest, -the most indecipherable of enigmas. But it's true, Eileen. Year after -year we've learned more about cell function, genes, chromosomes, the -natural molding of living things, and the final process in protoplasm, -which is the spark itself. Men like Schaeffer have been making simple -life for years, while they traced out more complex riddles. For a long -time they've been replacing diseased or damaged organs from scattered -cells drawn from the bodies of many donors. Now they've gone further -and have grown such organs in a culture fluid, from a microscopic bit -of tissue. It is already theoretically possible to re-create an entire -man, provided there is a pattern. It was for repair purposes, after -possible accidents, that everyone was urged to have his body structure -recorded--especially that of his brain. All you have to do, Eileen, -is have Jack's record turned over to the same laboratories that do -rejuvenation. In two or three years he'll come back to you just as he -was. Soon there might even be a simpler, better way." - -Eileen Dukas's laugh was brittle and bitter. "A roll of fine, -sensitized wire," she said. "Kept in a box no bigger than the first -joint of a finger. Supposed to be safe in a vault. The pattern of a -human being. Well, Mitch, there just isn't any such box for Jack. Or -for Eddie or me either, for that matter. We just didn't get around to -it. Jack was somehow half against it." - -Again there was a silence. For Eddie it seemed to have the quiet of -forever in it. No whistling of Dad's tunes. No sly winks, or play at -being tough. Just memory. - -"All bodies that are being picked up are being sent through the -recorder," Uncle Mitch offered at last. "Refined radar does the trick. -The finest variations of even brain structure--the mold of mind, -personality, and memory--are found and recorded. Wasn't that done for -Jack?" - -Eddie's mother nodded. "Only," she stammered, "the whole top of his head -was charred. There wasn't enough of him left. Oh, you and your damned -science, Mitch." - -She was weeping again. Mitchell Prell became either cruel or perhaps he -spoke in self-defense. - -"The people that used to neglect things like insurance," he remarked, -"are still plentiful, aren't they? Oh, well, maybe there's still a sort -of way. A makeshift. People are bound to think of it. Let it go for -now. I've got lots to worry about, sister of mine." - -"Your own skin, for instance?" she challenged him. "Why did you come -here at all, Mitch? The scapegoat-seekers will certainly look for you -here first." - -"My own skin," Mitchell Prell agreed. "Maybe yours, since you are a -relative of mine, responsible for my sins. That is an ancient defect of -logic among certain types of people still in existence, I'm afraid--if -the provocation becomes great enough. The skins of the three of us, my -most prized treasures." - -He smiled slightly then, and his blue eyes were gentle. "Don't worry -too much, though," he went on. "I'll be gone sooner than most people -will even think of looking for me. I'll keep out of sight, not even -leaving the house, except after dark. I have some things to deliver to -Schaeffer. Then I've got to get away. Because life goes on, in spite of -everything. I'm still curious about nature, the stars and some other -things. I remain eager for some vast freedom, Eileen--for you and -your son, and the rest of the cussed race, whose errant qualities and -usually good intentions I share. I see no good in becoming the offering -of expiation for an accident that came out of a general human urge to -learn that can't and won't be downed." - -Something like a truce came then. Eddie Dukas could feel it. Family -loyalty was in it and a little of understanding and contrition. - -"All right, Mitch," was all that Eddie's mother said. She kissed his -uncle's cheek. Eddie knew that it was a woman's gesture of armistice. - -Fires had died down. Dawn was beginning to show in the patio. The rain -had stopped long ago. For no reason Eddie's eyes sought out a pool of -muddy water in a crack in the flagging. The water was clay colored, as -it might have been after any shower. A robin, which had somehow escaped -death, was scolding angrily. - -Breakfast was eaten listlessly. There were radio reports and orders. -"Able persons must report to their municipal centers...." - -"That's for you, Eddie," Mitchell Prell said ruefully. "And your -mother. While I play hiding rat." - -Eddie didn't know whether to hate his uncle or not. There was an inner -bigness about that slightly built man that matched some obscure drive -that was Eddie's own--in spite of his grief. - -"Watch yourself, sir," he growled stiffly. - -The day was a day of searching for corpses, of cleanup, of tentative -restoration. At least there would be no smells of death. Pruning -machines were already busy on charred treetops. The world was being -put back into order, like a disturbed anthill. Grass and leaves would -sprout again. The scared faces of younger children--many from the Youth -Center were given small tasks to help in the cleanup, since it was not -the custom now to hide reality from the young--would smile again. On -that day of sweeping the streets with a broom, Eddie Dukas made and -lost many a brief friendship. Hello.... Goodbye.... - -Fortunately the poison of radioactivity had not been transmitted to any -great extent from across space by radiation alone. Gases and fragments -of the Moon that were still falling as meteors bore a taint to the -atmosphere; but it was now below the danger level. - -Overhead, arching the sky like the Rings of Saturn turned ragged, was -what was left of Luna: rock and dust. For an hour its texture veiled -the sun, until, near noon, there was almost twilight, like that of an -eclipse. That arch was a permanent monument to a night that would be -remembered. - -There still were hysterical people around. Eddie saw Mrs. Payten, his -friend's mother. She passed in the street, muttering, "Oh, Ronald, you -were a beast of a man, but I loved you. Why were you a fool, too?... No -record.... None...." - -It had been a subject of neighborhood gossip that Ronald Payten, a -large, passive lug, had been a very much hen-pecked husband. His -neglect of having a record made of himself might have seemed strange -for so noted a biologist. Maybe it was absent-mindedness, professional -difference of opinion, or even some backhanded defiance of his wife. - -There were moments when the wild taint in young blood and the -magnificence of disaster gave Eddie and others almost an outing mood. -But toil, sweat and horror soon turned things grim as he worked with -the men. His hands were blackened and scratched. But maybe tiredness -was balm for delayed shock. Maybe it was thus that he stood at the -brief funeral services--for his father, too--with less hurt. The great -trench was closed over the corpses, and the thing was done. - -Later, back in the house, he struggled with himself somewhat, and said, -"I know it wasn't your fault, Uncle Mitch." - -Eddie had seen stern faces that day, topping trim gray uniforms: -regional police. In him was the thought: Harboring a fugitive. One who -shouldn't be called that. But who is--now. Because people have taken a -beating like never before. Even laws can be changed. Ideas of justice -won't stay quite the same. - -"Have you outgrown my calling you Nipper?" Mitchell Prell asked him -seriously. "Perhaps.... But I still want to show you something." - -Young Ed Dukas was no sucker for easy come-ons. But his polite wariness -soon dissolved, when, in the room where Mitchell Prell was holed up, he -saw that the man who turned to face him was not his uncle. The nose and -lips were much heavier. Only the eyes and grin remained much the same, -though their general effect was made different by the difference of -surrounding features. This man looked like a good-natured mechanic. - -Eddie's spine chilled. But he gave a sullen snort as the man peeled his -face away. Underneath it was Uncle Mitch. - -"A mask, Eddie. A trick for kids, you'd say." His uncle laughed. -"I spent the day making it up, to help me get around more easily. -That's nothing. The important fact is that it is made of vitaplasm. -Remember the bar of it that I once had? Crude stuff then. Better now. -Alive in a way of its own. A synthetic and far tougher cousin to -natural protoplasm. Far less susceptible to damage by heat and cold. -Self-healing, like flesh. Sustained by food and oxygen. But capable of -drawing its energy from sunlight or radioactivity, too. And in some -of its forms less dependent on a fluid base such as water. No, it's -not consistently the same substance, or combination. Like the flesh -we know, vitaplasm is in constant change. Here and now it's just an -amorphous mass, crudely molded. An unshaped building material. But, -like star ships, it belongs to the future. Here it's undeveloped -principle, another phase of our advancing science everywhere. You could -call it the clay of the superman, Eddie. I want you to remember all -this. Because I may be back from where I'm going to try to go. Or I -might get in touch sometime. We might need each other's help." - -Young Ed Dukas listened with intense interest. Perhaps his deepest -drive was toward the shadowy splendor of times yet to come. They -seemed a part of his growing self. They must become real! And he must -take part in their fulfillment. Grief or hardship could not stop him. -Therein he and Mitchell Prell traveled the same road. - -"You didn't invent vitaplasm, Uncle Mitch," he stated. "No one could -have--alone." - -His sullenly serious gaze lingered on the mask. It was warm to his -touch. It even recoiled a little. - -Mitchell Prell shook his head and chortled. "No, Nipper. You know that -research is now far too complex for that. I helped a little. Lots of -men did. Maybe I've added something to what is known. I've got to give -my data to specialists here before I leave." - -Eddie thought of a man he'd sometimes seen on television. No bigger -than Uncle Mitch. And plain looking. But great. Dr. Schaeffer in his -underground laboratory in the City. - -"You aren't going to try to reach a star, are you?" young Ed asked. - -Uncle Mitch shook his head. "No. I won't wander so far off." He -laughed. "But in a way I'll be going farther, I suppose. Though don't -imagine that I mean time or hyper-dimensional travel. It's something -simpler. But it's to a place where no one can journey exactly as a -human being. I can't tell you much more. Because I don't want other -people to try to dig too much out of you. But I want to look at things -from a new angle. And from very close up, you might say. Maybe I'm -trying to hide from danger, Eddie. Some. But the bigger reason is that -I want to go on learning and exploring. Maybe my being a small man -means something, too." - -Mitchell Prell ended with another light laugh. He put the mask in his -pocket and snapped a large suitcase shut. When he spoke again it was -on a slightly different tack: "You probably won't see me for a while, -Eddie. About your father, words just aren't any good at all. Maybe I'll -ache over his end even harder than you. If anybody asks you questions -about me, tell all you know. Don't try to hide anything for my sake. -They'll pry it out of you anyway. And they'll only know what I want -them to know. - -"Your mother may get a letter in a few days asking you both to -report to the City. If that letter comes, see that she conforms to -its request. It will also mean that I've delivered the results of my -experiments with vitaplasm, as far as they've gone, into the proper -hands and have probably succeeded in getting away into space. I hope -that you and I and everybody make it to the Big Future, Eddie. That's -all I have to say. Unless you care to remember a word that may crop up -again--_android_." - -Mitchell Prell grinned reassuringly at his nephew and moved to put on -his mask. - -"You don't want to say goodbye to Mom," Eddie stated, half angrily. - -Prell's look of concern deepened. His thin face was touched by a -fleeting tenderness and worry. Part of it was surely for his sister. -Then, mostly to himself, he muttered, "There's greater magnificence to -come--if we can grow past the infancy of man; if new knowledge and old -wild impulses don't do us all to death first." He chuckled sheepishly. -"You say goodbye for me, Eddie," he urged. "I hate things like that." - -Mitchell Prell was gone then, out into the weird new night. Grimly, -already half a man, young Ed Dukas watched him go, bitterness and -grief, hatred and love, mixed up inside him. But the common denominator -between himself and his uncle was the need for that future of stars and -wonder and legendary betterment. - -"It _will_ happen," he promised within himself. For a second his body -was taut with dread. He had already experienced the fury that knowledge -made possible, and he could sense the potential of long silence beyond -such things--no one left, anywhere! He wondered if, because life could -go on and on now, it was more precious and death more terrible. - -Fifteen minutes after his uncle's departure a spy beam was put into -operation from a mile distance. It covered the rooms of the Dukas house -and the grounds around it. The principle of the device was almost -ancient. The reflection of electro-magnetic waves. On a small screen -in a distant room the plan of a house and its furnishings was outlined -in a pale green glow. Shadowy blobs shifted with the movements of its -occupants, robot and human. Only two people were there now. - -Eddie Dukas guessed that the spy beam was there, though its irregularly -changing wave length would have made it almost impossible to identify, -among the waves from many sources used for communication. - -Early on the third morning after the lunar blowup the police came to -the house. They were very gentle. There was even a policewoman to ask -the questions. - -Eddie's mother was cool and wary. - -"Have you information as to the whereabouts of Dr. Mitchell Prell, Mrs. -Dukas?" she was asked. "We know that the last Moon rocket landed with -him aboard." - -Before she could lie Eddie blurted, "He was here all that day. He's -gone now. He didn't make his destination very clear." - -Eileen Dukas's eyes widened with panic and surprise. She had expected -Eddie to be more discreet. - -"You have no right to question my son!" she stated coldly. - -"Mrs. Dukas," she was informed, "when there is an investigation of the -deaths of two hundred million people, we have more than the right to -question anybody." - -Young Ed was scared. But he felt some of the hero-impulse. Or the -desire to follow faithfully the instructions of his idol, Uncle Mitch. - -"If you psych my memory, what little I know will come clearer than if I -just told it," he challenged. - -This was done forthwith, out in the police car parked in the street. -When the helmet of the apparatus was removed from Eddie's head, the -police had certain comments of Mitchell Prell's to study. Possibly they -could puzzle out some of their hidden meaning. But this couldn't have -satisfied them very much. - -The next day the letter Prell had mentioned arrived. At least it -could be assumed that it was the one. Uncle Mitch had managed to make -one step of his purpose anyway! Under the heading of "Vital Section, -Schaeffer Laboratories," it said: - - MRS. DUKAS: - - _Will you kindly report at your earliest convenience to the - above section. This is of greatest importance. Please bring - your son._ - - _Sincerely_, - - DR. M. BART - -Ed was both cold with tension and hot with eagerness. The following -day he and his mother were in the battered City. Fire had scarred it. -A boiling tidal wave had washed over portions of it. But the great -building over the many subterranean levels of the Schaeffer Labs had -stood firm. Quakes had not broken it down. - -An elevator took them below, to that steel- and lead- and -concrete-shielded place which might have resisted for a while even a -noval outburst of the sun. They were requested to lie down on something -like sensipsych couches. A voice--maybe Dr. Bart's--spoke to them -from a swift-gathering dream: "Think about Jack Dukas. Your husband. -Your father. Things he said. His manner of speech. His expressions, -gestures, temperament, likes and dislikes, hobbies, jokes, skills. -The people that he knew. Their faces and mannerisms. As many of them -as possible will be contacted and psyched like this, too. Think of -his memories told to you. Think of everything ... everything ... -everything...." - -For Eileen Dukas it must have been much the same as for her son. -Pearly haze seemed to float inside Eddie's mind. Like a million bits -of ancient news clippings always in motion, his recollections of his -father seemed to burst in a thousand ever-shifting fragments within his -brain. He felt an awful compulsion to recall. It sapped his strength -until all consciousness faded away. Yet before this happened he knew -that the probing would go on and on. - -The next thing he knew he was sitting groggily in a pneumatic tube -train, with his mother, all but exhausted, too, leaning against -him. Almost as an afterthought, their own minds and bodies had been -"recorded" there at the laboratory. They seldom exchanged questions or -speculations afterward about what had happened to them. It had been a -dream. Let it be a dream. - - - - -II - - -Life had become hard enough for Eileen Dukas and her son. While most -people treated them all right--from some they even received exaggerated -kindness--there was, very often, a certain disturbing expression in -eyes that looked at them. - -Les Payten, Eddie's friend said once, "I promise, Ed. No more talk -about your uncle from me. Finished, see? You've had enough." - -Eddie suppressed the anger which sprang from loyalty to Mitchell Prell, -for he understood Les Payten's good intentions. - -At regular intervals there were police visits at the house, and -questioning. "It's partly for your protection, Mrs. Dukas," was one -honest comment from the detectives. But Eddie sensed that there was -more to it than that. Subtly, the interpretation of law had changed -since the lunar blowup. It went backward, as grief sought people to -blame. Catastrophe had been too big for reason or fairness. And the -scapegoat himself was not around to be mobbed. - -A freckle-faced brat from the Youth Center--her name, Barbara -Day, had been drawn out of a hat, for of course she had no known -parents--offered advice: "You ought to go far away, Eddie, where folks -don't know you. It would be better." - -Ed knew that this was good advice. Many people were saying and shouting -and whispering that too much knowledge was a dangerous possession. And -Ed's uncle still represented such a thing. More than once Ed had to run -fast, with some big lug chasing him. Black eyes he collected with great -frequency, and delivered some, too. Still, he ached inside. It was as -if Uncle Mitch were part of him. - -The world began to look normal and green again. But the undercurrents -of memory were still there. And Ed Dukas began to answer hate with -hate, though he didn't like to. - -There was a crowd of young toughs with rocks to throw, in front of the -house one night. "This is the place," Eddie heard one of them say. -"Both my parents are gone. And the bums that live here were in on the -reason." - -Ed had seen the boy around before: Ash Parker. Now the rocks flew for a -while, and Ed and his mother crouched behind locked doors. There might -have been a lynching, except that Les Payten found a neighbor with a -tear-gas vial and some other neighbors with sharp tongues and courage. - -It was the final straw, however. "Will we have to leave, Eddie?" his -mother asked. - -"It's best," he growled. "But I'll be back!" - -Next day the house was being boarded up. Packing began even before the -colonial travel permits were prepared. - -It was goodbye to Les Payten and Barbara Day, and the newly ringed -planet, Earth, with its billions of inhabitants and its great shops -that still worked to give the whole solar system to mankind and maybe -a segment of the larger universe as well. The pattern of the future -seemed set, and specialists still didn't think that there was any -real reason to make a change. In fact, they denied that any change -was possible. Nobody would give up the threshold of immortality, once -it was gained. Nor would they relinquish other triumphs that could -bring idleness and decay if they were not used to accomplish bigger -and bigger tasks. So, even the fearful ones were caught in the rushing -current of the times. - -Ed Dukas was soon on a crowded liner. Because she might need him, he -kept close to his mother. Around them were other colonists--young -graduates from technical schools, newlyweds and people who were -physically young, too, though they were fresh from the rejuvenation -vats. They were the aged, awed by another lifetime before them. - -The liner blasted off. A week later it landed on an asteroid of -middling size. The Dukases were assigned to one of a group of trim -cottages that were not even all alike. Under the great glass roof, -which kept in the synthetic air, the new gardens and fruit trees were -already growing. And in coiled tubes of clear plastic filled with -water, circulated green algae from which almost any kind of basic food -could be made. - -To Eddie it was a satisfying dip into space that he had so much -anticipated. Amid great heaps of steel and plastic and house parts and -atomic machines to maintain a normal temperature so far from the sun, -life went on. Eddie's mother worked in the office of a shop for robot -machines. He worked too--when and where he could--when he was not at -school. - -There was a little more of peace, for a while anyway. There was the -usual psychological treatment to subdue possible devils of the lunar -catastrophe which might remain in his mind. There were sports and an -artificial lake to swim in with his companions. However, Ed Dukas was -wary of making deep friendships. - -He was then a sullen, overly matured youth of thirteen, earnest about -everything he did--for he knew that the years ahead were grimly -earnest. Carefully he kept up with the reports in scientific journals: -about the laying of the keel of the first star ship on a minute -asteroid with only a number and no name. Harwell was in charge. The -propellant would be pure radiant energy--the best of them all; energy -so concentrated that it would be truly massive and hurled at the speed -of light, which was not remarkable, since it _would_ be light, far more -intense per unit area than the noval explosion of a star! - -This was by no means the only major advance that had been accomplished -and was reported. Technological progress was steady in all fields, -across the board, making a solid front. Others of its facets also -had a special appeal to Ed Dukas. Biological science, in its newest -interpretations, he knew to be the most important of these. Now it was -no longer just simple rejuvenation--restoring rusty organs. It was a -thing that could start from a single cell, in warm, sticky fluids, -giving rebirth to something that had already been. And it had a further -development--bringing the same results but more swiftly and easily, -and with different, far more rugged flesh. It was frightening and -fascinating. Knowing was like feeling the shadow of a demon or an angel. - - * * * * * - -Ed Dukas and his mother spent four years on their asteroid. Then one -day a letter fluttered in her hand. And she seemed not to know whether -to look happy or terrified. She did not show her son the letter. - -"We've had enough of being here," she stated. "We're going home." - -So they went back across the millions of miles. They cleaned up the -house, on which obscene insults had been scribbled in chalk. On two -successive days Eddie was jumped by gangs. He fought free and escaped. -But on the third evening he was cornered. This time Ash Parker was the -ringleader. Ed battled like a bobcat, but eight opponents were too -many. He was flat on his back, and they were kicking him. His own blood -was in his mouth. What might happen when he blacked out was anybody's -guess. Once, before medical knowledge had advanced to where it was, it -would have been murder for sure. - -Somebody intervened--a big guy in a gray business suit who had come -striding along the block with an eager attention. - -He didn't say anything at first. He just collared the toughs, two at a -time in swift succession, and thrust them away. - -Eddie staggered up and faced his benefactor, intent on giving him -sincere thanks. "Mister ... I ..." - -"Hello, Eddie!" the man said, chuckling. "I see you turned out hardy. -Seventeen you'd be now." - -Young Ed Dukas heard the voice and looked at the face. He stiffened. -Then he made a statement in a flat tone that sounded very formal and -unemotional, which it was not: "Sir, you're my father." - -The man nodded. "Just off the assembly line, pal. The same guy--because -you and your mother, and some other people, remembered what I was like. -There was no record of me or of my mind. So, okay, they made one, -fella. From the memories of me left in other minds. Thanks, Eddie." - -"Thanks?" Ed Dukas said in a choked voice. - -Bloody and dirty, he stepped forward. Father and son clung to each -other. It was a moment of great triumph. - -Ed's mind pictured filaments, as fragile at first as pink spiderweb -but already outlining a human shape, held suspended in a kind of -jelly--growing there, forming according to a record. Now even the -record could be synthesized. It seemed like real freedom from death at -last. - -Ash Parker had not fled. Now he spoke, sounding awed, "Jeez, Mr. Dukas. -I didn't believe it. Maybe my folks can come back, too." - -"Your parents _will_ come back," Jack Dukas affirmed. "I am the first -'memory man' to be resurrected. Among those killed who had had their -bodies and minds recorded as was recommended, about a hundred thousand -are alive again, as I think you know. Millions more are in process. One -way or another, by record or by the memories of others, in flesh of the -old kind or the new, almost everyone will return." - -Ed felt his father's hand. As far as he could tell, it _was_ of flesh. -Yet it could be something else; Ed nearly trembled with excitement as -his eager wonder and primitive dread of the strange battled inside him. -He thought again of Mitchell Prell's first samples of vitaplasm. - -"Of which flesh are you, Dad?" Ed asked anxiously. - -His father studied him there in the twilight of the day, while the -silvery ring of lunar wreckage brightened in the sky. - -"The old kind, Eddie," he answered. - -"I'm glad," Ed said, feeling greatly relieved, a reaction which he knew -was odd for one who loved the thought of coming miracles. - -Jack Dukas sighed as if he had escaped a terrible fate. "So am I glad, -pal," he said. "I guess I was favored by family connections." Here he -paused, but his wink meant Uncle Mitch. "However," he continued, "the -old flesh takes so much longer. That's why in many cases it won't be -used. There must be thousands of androids already among us, living like -everybody else. Since personal concerns are involved, statistics are -kept rather confidential. These synthetic people have organs the same -as we have. And you can't recognize them just by looking. Only they're -thirty per cent heavier, stronger, and they don't tire. There was a -thought, once, that robots would make human beings obsolete and replace -them. Sorry, Eddie. Why be gruesome at a time like this? Let's patch -you up and then find your mother." - - * * * * * - -Young Ed Dukas was happier than he had ever been before. For quite a -while he found peace. Maybe that was true of most of humanity now--for -the past three or four years at least. There was no sharp delineation -of an interval before the smokes of doubt began to come back. - -Les Payten was still around. And Barbara Day continued to live at the -Youth Center on the hill. Often the three would meet. Their childhood -was behind them. Barbara Day's freckles had faded. Her dark hair had a -coppery glint. A promise of beauty had begun to blossom. And her talk -expressed many whimsical thoughts. - -"We all know each other, Eddie," she once said. "So don't be offended. -I sometimes think that you wonder whether your father is really the -same person that he was--whether he ever could be more than a careful -duplicate." - -Les Payten frowned. "You're speaking to me, too, Babs," he pointed out. -"I also have a 'memory father.' He's good to me, and mostly I like him. -But sometimes I get scared, though I don't always know why." - -Ed's skin tingled. "Could I be myself now and still be myself -in another body, years later? Could there ever be two of -me--truly--constructed exactly the same? I don't deny such a thing. I -simply don't know." - -But Ed Dukas continued to wonder about his father. There were several -occasions when his dad was supposed to recognize certain people, -casually encountered in the street. For they knew him. - -Ed was present on one of these occasions. "Sorry, friend," Jack Dukas -apologized to a burly, jovial man. "I guess they forgot to put a -picture of you inside my head." - -Les Payten's father was also subtly different from his original--though -in a somewhat different way. The change was even very dimly apparent -in his face. He had once been a big, easy-going, timid soul, nagged by -his wife. Now his features bore a hint of brutality. He walked with a -slight swagger. He did not roar, but the aura of power was there. - -Ed's mother explained the change to his father: "Memory seems not -always to match facts, Jack. Mrs. Payten fooled herself into believing -that Ronald Payten used to be a bully. So she even fooled Schaeffer's -mind-machines. And lo! Ronald Payten _is_ a bully now, as far as she is -concerned. No, don't worry about her too much, Jack. She may even like -being pushed around." - - * * * * * - -In the months that passed, from out on an asteroid came the -step-by-step reports of the building of the first huge star ship. At -home, one by one, old acquaintances--or was it just their reasonable -facsimiles?--reappeared. Gradually most of the dead of the lunar blowup -were restored to life--except for certain scientists who remained -unforgiven. - -But a new type of population was creeping into the fabric of human -society. Its humanness, in an old sense, could be debated. Its first -quiet intrusion was marked by an awe that faded into a shrug; it began -to be accepted casually and somewhat dully, as most past novelties had -been accepted before. Foresight could extend into tomorrow, but its -pictures remained not quite real. The skills of cool, clear thinking, -which education tried to impart in an era that needed it so much, fell -short again. No doubt it should have been remembered that the shift -from inattention to unreasonable panic can often be swift. - -Even young Ed Dukas, though dedicated in his heart to New and Coming -Things, sometimes lost sight of these deeper concerns because of his -lighter interests. Without much help from art, Barbara Day turned out -to be beautiful. She had a pair of suitors automatically. Ed could -have had his stocky frame lengthened. Les Payten could have had his -big ears trimmed. But young men often frown on the vanity of tampering -with one's appearance. Sometimes there is even a certain pride in minor -ugliness. - -They all had their dates, their dancing, their canoe rides--traditional -pleasures, inherited from generations past. And they had the -age-old problems of youth approaching adulthood. But now, for them -and for their increasingly complex civilization, there was a new -problem--vitaplasm, which could be grown like flesh, though faster, -impressed with a shape, personality and memories. It was said that -30 per cent of those who died in the explosion of the Moon lab were -brought back in this firmer, cheaper medium. But its use did not stop -here. For one thing, there were certain adventurous persons, alive and -healthy, who changed the character of their bodies willfully. - -One fact some might forget: there were other dead from years before, -but remembered and still loved--parents, grandparents. Besides, there -were historical characters--Washington, Lincoln, Edison, Cleopatra. - -Possibly Joe Doakes could awaken from extinction, puzzled, wondering, -frightened, but finding himself at least superficially the same, eating -much the same food, enjoying much the same things. Then something super -in his body would dawn on him, scaring him more or making him exultant. -But it all seemed good at first glance, so a joyful world forgot its -times of suspicion, even against the warnings of specialists, and -released the new processes to almost any operator who could construct -the needed equipment. - -The solar system was big; the universe, optimistically promised, seemed -endless. There was plenty of room. And the task of bringing back just -those who had perished with the Moon was enormous and slow. So in -cellars and out-of-the-way places countless biological technicians -tried their skill. They could not have made the grade at all if they -were stupid, and their results, generally, were good. - -The various Julius Caesars and Michelangelos really came into being -as novelties, side-show pieces. All were reasonable likenesses, -physically. From existing minds such traits and skills as each was -supposed to possess could be copied more or less accurately. But -none of the pseudo-great amounted to very much. They enjoyed a brief -popularity; then, assuming the costumes and customs of a changed world, -they sank into nonentity among the populace. Like most of those of the -new flesh, they kept this secret as if by intuitive prudence. The many -people restored in normal protoplasm were less reticent. - -That there were androids around him, known, suspected and unrecognized -as such, was a thrilling idea to Ed Dukas. It was part of the onward -march to greater wonders--or so it seemed to him most of the time. -Eager to understand how they thought and felt, he sought them out -cautiously, not wishing to offend. Usually his efforts were met with -coolness and evasion--which perhaps gave them away. - -But then Ed met a very special memory man. He wasn't the copy of -somebody famous. He was just a humorous legend. Yet now perhaps he -was the right kind of personality striking against the right sort of -circumstances to produce the type of action and fire that could affect -the existing era. - -Ed and his two friends, Les Payten and Barbara Day, found him in a -little park feeding pigeons. Or, rather, _he_ found them. For in -conformity with an ancient village belief that no one should be a -stranger to anyone else, he grinned at them and said, "Hello, there! -Nice young fellers. Nice girl! Sit and gab a while? I keep gettin' -lonesome. Mixed up. Got to get straightened out. Or try, anyway. Put -yourselves down? That's fine!" - -Abashed and curious after that, Ed and Barbara and Les sat and mostly -just listened. - -"Been around these times three months. Scared stiff at first. Thought -I was addled. Know somethin'? I can remember all the way back to -1870. It's a fake, sure. No, they didn't make me look young, or -even give me all my teeth. Afraid of spoiling 'verisimilitude,' my -great-great-great-something-grandson-supposed-to-be said. I'm a family -brag. Look what I keep carrying around with me. One of the first -editions of _Huck Finn_. They found this tintype of a feller inside -it. Illinois farmer. And look at this here writing in the front of the -book. 'Property of Abel Freeman.' So I'm supposed to be him, slouch hat -and all--funny, I can't get used to anything else. So I write just like -that. This tintype and the writing are the only solid clues about what -the original Abel Freeman was really like. Up to there, I'm him. The -rest is mostly storybook stuff, and the idea the family has that their -ancestor was a kind of pixilated hellion--the sort some folks like to -tell about. Some way for a man to be born, huh? Shucks, I can even -remember the night I was supposed to have died. Drunk, and kicked in -the belly by my own mule, because he didn't like my smell. Hell, I bet -in real life that mule would of plum enjoyed whisky!" - -Abel Freeman stopped talking. He turned pale gray eyes set in a face -that looked like brown leather toward his audience with expectant -amusement, as if he understood the eerie impression he'd made on them -and was curious about their reactions. - -Barbara took the lead. "We're surely glad to know you, Mr. Freeman," -she said, shaking his big brown paw and unconsciously aping his manner -of speech. "I'm sure you could tell us plum more. What's the world ever -coming to?" - -His grip, for an instant, was almost literally like that of a vise. But -when Barbara winced with pain, his hand relaxed, and his look became -honestly gentle and apologetic, though it retained a certain slyness of -tricks being played or unprecedented power being demonstrated. - -"Oh, excuse me, lady!" he drawled. "This first Abel Freeman--he was -supposed to be a very strong and vigorous man. Me--naturally I'm even a -lot stronger. Sometimes I just forget. But I try to be right courtly. -There, I'll rub your fingers. Hope I didn't break no bones." - -Barbara laughed a bit nervously. "No, Mr. Freeman--I'm fine," she -assured him, nodding her dark head. "Now, if you'll tell us--" - -"Oh, yes--about what the world and everything is coming to," Abel -Freeman went on, his tone more languid than his eyes. "Well, matters -could get mighty rough. I've been studying up--thinking. When I first -got to these times, I didn't like them. Everything seemed addled. -Guess I was homesick. I kind of resented being made the cheap way, -too. But even way back in the years I remember, they used to say that -maybe there'd be flying machines or even balloons to the Moon. So I -perked up and got acclimated, and said to myself, 'Abel, my boy, take -what's given to you and don't whine, even though you weren't asked if -you wanted to come here. And with all that can be done now, why not -bring your old woman and her chewing tobacco? And your four ornery -sons? Nat was the worst. And Nancy, your daughter, who was an unholy -terror? Of course this family that you recollect so good probably don't -match historical fact so much, being just romanticized, mostly made-up -memories put into your head. But they're plum real to you. Guess when -they synthesized you, they should have left those recollections out. -Because you love that family of yours, ornery or not, and would be -happy to see its members again.' And I said to myself besides, 'Abel, -bein' made the cheap way has got plenty of advantages. You're strong -as a dozen regular men, and you won't need rejuvenation, because -you'll never get any older. You'll heal even if you're hurt something -terrible. Trouble is, your kind'll be some mighty stiff competition for -the present holders of the land. Of course people want to get along -peaceably--even your sort, Abel. But plenty of folks will wind up -trusting your sort no more than they'd trust a billygoat under a line -of wash. Yep, I'm afraid there's gonna be some mighty interesting days -coming!'" - -Abel Freeman ended his conversation almost dreamily. He'd hung his -slouch hat on the corner of the bench back. In his iron-gray hair, the -sun picked out reddish glints. His gaze, which might have been designed -especially for precision squirrel-shooting, wandered down a path that -curved along the park lake. - -Ed Dukas found him a fascinating mixture of old romance and comedy, -artfully concealing the most recent of wonders, the dark channels of -which held the potentials of great centuries to come, or mindless -silence after destruction. The treachery was not in Abel Freeman -himself but in the fact of his being. - -Ed's mouth was dry. "You're honest, Mr. Freeman," he said. - -Abel Freeman answered this with a nod and a shrug. "Funny," he drawled. -"Thought I saw a young feller I was sort of expecting. A congenial -enemy, name of Tom Granger. Look, suppose you three sidekicks of mine -get on your feet nice and easy, and walk the other way on that path. It -would be safer. Not too far. Just a piece." - -This might have been an armed robber's command, but Ed sensed that it -was nothing like that. Without a word, he led Les and Barbara away. - -There was a blinding, blue-white flash. The bench on which they had -been sitting was gone--vaporized by fearful heat. Incandescent vapors -rose from a big hole in the turf. When condensed and solidified, they -would show little flecks of gold transmuted from soil. These were the -effects of the familiar Midas Touch pistol. It used lighter atoms to -form heavier ones, while it converted a little of the total mass into -energy. - -Freeman must have leaped away at just the right instant to avoid -destruction. With astonishing agility, he was pursuing his intended -murderer. As Freeman sprang to the youth's shoulders, they both fell -in a heap on the walk and slid to a stop. Freeman's hand flicked, and -the weapon flew into the bushes. - -By then Ed and Barbara and Les were standing over the prone forms. -Freeman was unruffled. - -"Friends," he said, laughing, "meet up with a young one with a sharp -viewpoint and lots of guts in his own way. Yep, Tom Granger." - -Granger was panting heavily. His mass of black hair streamed down over -his thin face. He looked scarcely older than Ed or Les, but these -days that meant little. In repose, his large, dark eyes might have -been limpid and idealistic; now they flashed fury. His shabbiness was -affected. Certainly, in this era, there were no reasons for poverty. - -Now he began to struggle again, in Freeman's grasp. Futilely, of -course. "Yes, I have guts!" he declared. "I wanted to kill you, -Freeman--with whatever means that are left that can still accomplish -that with things like you! I wanted the incident to get into the -newscast--yes, to give me public attention. And not for any stupid -vanity, but for the best purpose there ever was. I wanted a chance to -be listened to, while I tell what everyone must have begun to sense by -now. Damn you, Freeman! Let me up!" - -Abel Freeman smirked indulgently and obliged. - -Granger rose lamely but gamely. "You seem to be impromptu acquaintances -of this Abel Freeman," he said to Ed and his companions. "He has -feelings, he thinks; he's even a good person. In some ways he's just -an interesting rogue of the nineteenth century. But he's a device. And -unless something is done, we'll be as obsolete as the dinosaur! Our -science serves us no longer. It serves other masters, nearer to its -meaning. Others than I have realized it. In every two houses this side -of the world there is already an average of one of these creatures of -vitaplasm. Is Earth to be kept for us, and for the joy of being human; -or are we to become--basically, and no matter how humanized--mere -synthetic mechanisms, trading our birthright for a few mechanical -advantages?" - -The shot from the Midas Touch pistol was drawing a crowd. An -approaching police siren wailed. - -Suddenly Granger fixed his eyes on Ed in surprise and recognition. -"Dukas," he said. "Let me see--Edward Dukas. At a time when the world -was more reasonably watchful, your house was under surveillance. As a -possible means of contacting one Mitchell Prell--who had his hand in -what once happened to us, and perhaps in what is happening now. How -does it feel, Dukas, to be so close to such a celebrity? Ah, maybe -you're shy!" - -Flattening out Granger again would have been no useful answer to Ed's -memories of bitter wrongs. He smiled briefly at him. - -"Come see me some evening when you don't feel so much like making a -monkey of someone, because someone has just made a monkey out of you," -he said. - -Then he hustled his companions away. "There's no good in getting -involved in public confusion," he told them. "Anyhow not till we talk -things out and get them straight." - -Ten minutes later they were in a quiet restaurant. - -"Abel Freeman," Les Payten said. "He was quite a surprise at that." - -"Rather, more of a pointing out of facts we already knew," Barbara -remarked. - -"The old robot-peril come true," Less said pensively. "Humanity -threatened to be replaced, not by clanking giants of metal, simple and -melodramatic, but by beings much more refined--though they are perhaps -much the same thing. My own father is one of them." - -"There's truth in what Granger said," Ed pointed out. "There's that -dread of being shouldered out of the way by something strange and -tougher. I can feel it too. Granger can certainly make use of it, -preaching. He's clever. But he's the worst kind of fool." - -"Yeah, hammering on the detonator cap of the entire Earth," Les said, -breathing softly. - -The three friends, sitting around a table under soft lights and in -pleasant surroundings, looked at one another. The food before them was -good, the music was quiet and soothing. But at eye level, in the air -where their glances passed, seemed to hang all the elements of the -complex civilization to which they belonged: its luxury and beauty, its -climbing technology that could conquer death and reach for other solar -systems, but by the same or related forces could dissolve worlds, -especially if mankind, at the top, lost control of itself. - -"I thought things would go along smoothly and reasonably," Barbara -offered. "There's certainly plenty of room for both people and -androids. I took all of that more or less on faith. But I'm afraid I'm -wrong. After all, how can human beings live beside beings that blend -indistinguishably with the mass and yet are stronger, quicker?" - -Ed remembered signs of friction that he'd heard about. A minor riot -here or there. He remembered public statements by specialists like -Schaeffer admitting that some confusion was on the way but declaring -that in the end everything should be better for everyone. Those -specialists had the calculators, the great electronic thought-machines, -digesting trends, making profound predictions. But then there was -another thought--had many of those scientists already converted their -own bodies to a stronger medium? - -Ed saw that Les Payten had a faint sweat of strain on his forehead, -though he knew that Les was no nervous coward. His sullen poise just -after the lunar explosion long ago had proved that. - -"Maybe the worst of all," Les was saying, "is the sense of being -carried along, swiftly and helplessly, by things that are too big -and complicated. You wish you could find a ledge somewhere in the -time-stream and stop for a while to get your bearings. Sometimes you -feel that you are in a one-way tunnel where you have to keep moving. -Is there light at the end of the tunnel? Maybe it's just a matter of -personal adjustment--a taking of whatever comes." - -"I feel as though we're at the threshold of some terrible danger, Ed," -Barbara said. "What can we do about it?" - -He saw how strong and earnest she looked, and it reassured him. He -touched her hand briefly. "I don't know exactly," he said. "But -I'm for holding course toward the bigger future that stirred me up -with big dreams of the planets, of the stars. And I'm in favor of -being _reasonable_. I've seen too much hate and fear and unreason in -people. The way things are, it doesn't have to be a lot of people any -more--just a few gone a little crazy. The Moon blew up by accident. -A world was gone. But what happened by accident can certainly happen -by design or with the aid of fury. So, everywhere we go we can talk -against fury and panic, and _for_ reason. To our friends, and in the -streets. Everywhere that we can, and to everyone. Small as that effort -is, it might help." - -Solemnly the three friends shook hands and agreed to work out the -details of a plan. - - - - -III - - -That same night, at his home in the suburbs, Ed Dukas read an article -that had especially attracted his attention. Could vitaplasm be -grown into forms unknown before? Could it be shaped from a plan--a -blueprint--like the metal and plastic forming a machine? Heart here, -lungs there, nervous system arranged so? Scaly armor, long, creeping -body? Or wings that fluttered through the air? The author saw no reason -why this could not happen. Monstrous things. Ed Dukas chuckled at the -melodramatic idea. But he suspected that it was far from impossible. - -Young Dukas also had a caller that night. - -"You said I should come to see you," Tom Granger told him when they -were alone in Ed's room. Ed was on guard at once. - -His visitor's mood seemed to have changed since the afternoon. - -"Sorry if I seemed out of line today," Granger said. "My motives are -good. And I didn't want to insult you." - -"Thanks," Ed responded shortly. "But you didn't come here just to tell -me that. How does it happen that you're not in jail?" - -"Abel Freeman discreetly pressed no charges. I wish he had. But, like -you, he just disappeared. There was only that hole in the ground--made -by the Midas Touch pistol--a feeble thing to admit for a publicity -showdown. So I kept still, and the police couldn't hold me. Fact is, -most of them seem sympathetic to what I stand for--the venerable human -privilege of walking on one's own green planet as a natural animal, -loving one's wife and children in the ancient, simple manner." - -Granger was a good orator. Mysteriously, Ed was faintly moved. Perhaps -the gentle argument was too plain and clear. But Ed remained wary of -the traps of language and feeling, and of perhaps impractical dreams. - -His anger sharpened. Then, knowing the possibly deadly quality of anger -in these times and wishing to counteract that everywhere, he yearned -desperately to be a master psychologist, always calm and smiling and -supremely persuasive. But he could not be like that. He was too human -and limited. Maybe too primitive. - -"You still haven't told me why you came here, Granger," he said coldly. -"Why have you passed up a chance for public shouting to come and talk -to me?" - -Granger smiled. "You're clever enough, Dukas, to know that to win -the nephew of Mitchell Prell over to my way of thinking could be to -my advantage before that public. Or that, if I can't make friends -with him, at least knowing him better might help. Even the latter -circumstance could be like having a finger on a whole set of -advantages when the showdown between human beings and androids finally -comes. Oh, I admire Prell! A great man--if he _was_ a man when last -seen! But his kind of greatness is poison, Dukas--though millions with -short memories have foolishly forgiven him. But if he ever turns up -again, you'll know it, and so, perhaps, will I--before he can do any -further damage. You surely must realize that he bears a double guilt: -for the blowup and for the development of vitaplasm!" - -Granger's smile was savage and hopeful. - -Ed laughed in his face. "You think that secretly I might hate Mitchell -Prell, eh, Granger? But he was the idol of my childhood, a whimsical, -friendly little man. So I'm stuck with loyalty. But even if I hated him -blackly, I wouldn't come over to your side. I don't like the way you -think. Until the blowup happened, it was bravo for science and empire. -Afterward, your hysterical soul was free from blame and white as snow, -and he was guilty. Maybe I judge you wrongly. I hope I do. But the way -I add it up, it's not the androids or any other new and inevitable -development that is the big danger; it's people like you, though maybe -you don't realize it. Loudmouths who stir up confusion, animosity, -hatred. Maybe I ought to kill you. Then there'd be one less spark in -the powder barrel!" - -"Why don't you?" Granger mocked. "There'd still be others. And I'd be -brought back." - -Ed nodded. "The benefits of our civilization," he said. "How would you -like to be an android? Does the idea scare you? You know, Granger, -some people say that, regardless of how you're returned to the living, -you're not the same person you were but only a superficially exact -duplicate." - -"You know I'd always choose to be human, Dukas," Granger muttered, -looking almost terrified. - -"Sure, Granger," Ed taunted. "You're not afraid of death--the knowledge -that science can restore you gives you courage. You can take the -benefits of scientific advancement, can't you? But assuming its -responsibilities is another thing." - -"I'm not dodging responsibility! I'm grabbing it, Dukas! I'm striking -out for sane control. I've done things already! While I worked in the -vaults, where personal recordings are kept, certain of those little -cylinders disappeared. They won't be found again! Some men don't -deserve that much protection against mishap--among them your uncle! I'm -proud of this, and I boast of it! No, don't accuse me! Even an official -complaint would be challenged by many people and then buried in a heap -of red tape. I can be a dirty fighter, Dukas; and I'll bite and kill -and kick and holler my lungs out to keep this planet from going to the -machines!" - -The wild look in Granger's face was the thing that prompted Ed to -action. The admission of the theft only emphasized the ghoulish -determination that was there. The only hope seemed in smashing that ego -out of existence--for a while at least. - -Ed chuckled. "So you'd take even the essence of people's selves," he -said. - -Granger's gaze didn't waver. "If every last thing I hold dear--and -which I believe most real human beings hold dear in like manner--were -in danger, I'd do anything." - -"So would I," Ed said grimly. - -Then he struck and struck and struck again. Blood spurted from -Granger's smashed lips and nose, as he crashed to the floor, struggled -to his feet and fell again. - -There was movement at the door of the room. From behind, Ed was gripped -by a strength greater than his own. "Stop it, Ed," he was commanded -quietly. It was his father. - -Through bloodied lips, Granger was explaining hurriedly, "Your son -and I disagree. He lost his temper. All I ask is that the good parts -of science--medical and so forth--be kept and the rest banned. And -that life become simple. A thing of fields and flowers, and wholesome -physical work. And not a mechanized bedlam, full of constant danger and -tension." - -Granger sounded very earnest, Ed thought. Maybe he was earnest. Maybe -he was a good actor. - -"Ban this, ban that!" Ed shouted. "No one ever lived happily under -the kind of artificial bans you mean, Granger! And what will you do -with the billions of people who disagree with your pretty vision? -Some of them will hate what you advocate as much as you hate existing -circumstances! And if modern weapons are once used...." - -"Quiet, Ed," his father said softly. "You've assaulted your guest--one -who, as far as I can see, has the most reasonable of views. A beautiful -picture. I agree with it myself--entirely." - -"Look, Dad," Ed began. "This Granger here is trying to solve today's -and tomorrow's problems with yesterday's poor answers." - -Ed stopped. He had an odd thought: his synthetic father had been -created largely from his and his mother's memories, at a terrible -time of grief, when his mother's reactions had turned against the -groping toward the stars. Before that, Dad had been somewhat averse to -mechanization. But now he was distinctly more so, as if that grief and -aversion had marked him. - -Jack Dukas was now medicating Granger's face with antiseptics while -Granger preached, as if from some deep font of a new wisdom: "You see, -Mr. Dukas, again, as in the past, danger is creeping up on us without -receiving serious attention. Beings that are really robots are already -controlling part of their own production. Their creation, everywhere, -should be banned or stamped out. Existing androids should be converted -to flesh or destroyed.... I'll go now. Thank you for your help. But I -think I'll get in touch with your son occasionally. He needs guidance." - -Ed nodded grimly. "Perhaps I do," he said. "Maybe everyone does. You -watch me and I'll watch you, eh?" - - * * * * * - -During the succeeding months Ed did his best to spread his doctrine -of calm and reason, working against the agitation which he knew was -already well under way. Les Payten and Barbara Day were with him in -this. All over the world there were others, mostly unknown to them, -but with the same ideas: "Use your head.... Don't put fear before -knowledge.... Do you _know_ an android? What is his name? Maybe Miller -or Johnson? You must know a few. And do they think so differently from -yourself? Yes, there are problems and no doubt prejudice. It may even -be justified. But the answers to our difficulties must be cool-minded. -Everyone knows why." - -Ed and his companions talked in this manner to their acquaintances, -spoke on street corners, sent letters to newscast agencies. And they -won many people over. The trouble was that they, and others like them, -could not reach everybody. - -Their Earth remained beautiful. There were hazy hills covered with -trees; there were soaring spires. The unrest was an undercurrent. - -This was a time of choosing of sides, and of buildup, while there was -a sense of helpless slipping onward toward what few could truly want. -Voices with another, harsher message were raised. Tom Granger was -hardly alone there, either. Tracts were passed out as part of their -method: _What Is Our Heritage?_; _The Right to Be Human_; _Technology -Versus Wisdom_. Perhaps directly out of such a mixture of truth and -crude thinking the assassinations began. There were thousands in -scattered places. - -One day Ed Dukas pushed into a knot of curious onlookers and saw the -body of one of the first of these. There, in the same park where Ed had -first met Abel Freeman, it had been found in the early morning. A Midas -Touch blast had torn it in half. - -"It's Howard Besser, a machinist who lives in the same building with -me," a man in the crowd offered. "He died once in the lunar explosion. -Now it happened again. That's no joke, even though he can be brought -back." - -Ed saw the victim's torn flesh. It _looked_ like flesh. But broken -bones had little metallic glints in them. Could you avoid remembering -that, mated to like, these beings of vitaplasm could even reproduce -their kind, to help increase their number? Had persons like Tom Granger -planned even this dramatization of a difference? Bits of this flesh -still squirmed, hours after violence. - -Granger had made progress. Growing public attention had won him the -privilege of orating on the newscast. It was he who had first talked -about vampires and androids--together, and to a world-wide audience. He -also accomplished an important part in winning the legal suppression of -labs creating human forms in vitaplasm. - -"It was desecration," he declared in his speech. "It is a tragedy -that we could not clamp down the lid sooner. There are an estimated -seventy million of these 'improvements on nature' now in existence. -And there are many hidden establishments still producing more. Can we -ever destroy them all? It is criminal to lock a human soul in such -substance. If, of course, the soul truly remains human, as it was meant -to be...." - -Granger's voice was always gentle. Yet to his listeners it suggested -dark, lonesome places where there is danger. Which was true. For now -other killings had started. Familiar human blood was spilled. - -On a pavement Ed saw a grim legend smeared in red beside a corpse: -"WHO WILL INHERIT THE UNIVERSE? RETRIBUTION. ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES -ANOTHER." - -Scattered throughout the Americas, Europe and the Westernized Orient -were millions more of such murders. The result was a trading of grim -goods, with the far hardier android winning in the tally. And that -winning was a threat. It could seem a promise to man of the end of his -era. So here was another spur to hysteria, always mounting higher. - -Ed Dukas and his friends stayed on at the University. They studied -with the efficient help of the sensipsych machine and its vividly real -visions, which could demonstrate as real experiences almost any skill, -from the playing of an antique Viennese zither to the probing of the -inner structure of a star. They also put in scattered hours of work -in the factories, whose products still aimed at empire in the spatial -distance. But above all they kept on with their appeals for reason. -Their success was great. In the main, people were reasonable and -clearheaded. But a total winning-over was far from possible. - -Noted men such as Schaeffer were shouting on the newscast. Shouting for -calm--increasing the tinny babble of the choosing of sides. - -More and more, Ed Dukas began to lose faith in the Big Future. - -"Maybe we should have kept still," he said to Les Payten and Barbara -Day. "We only added our small faggot to the fire." - -His friends laughed with him--ruefully--as they walked together across -the campus. - -Some minutes later Les Payten nodded to them, and, with a half smile, -said, "So long for now. Don't lose any sleep--not over worries, anyhow." - -He sauntered off. In matters of love, Les was a good loser. - -Barbara Day had taken a little apartment on a tree-lined street. It -was nice to walk there in the twilight. Not far from the apartment -a half-acre of ground had been allowed to grow wild with trees and -bushes, for contrast to the surrounding sleek neatness. - -There, in the thick shadows, Ed Dukas saw sinuous movement. He had -a fleeting glimpse of something long and winding, and perhaps half -as thick as his body. Then he saw it again--saw its weird glow, saw -the interlocking hexagonal plates that covered it everywhere. But it -did not suggest a gigantic snake at all. For one thing, its mode of -locomotion was different--a rippling movement of thousands of little -prongs on its undersides seemed to be involved in its principle. -It hurried quietly now for cover. Rhododendron bushes parted. It -disappeared behind a great oak. - -Barbara and Ed rushed forward. The grass bore no marks. Prudently, they -did not venture into the dark undergrowth. - -Ed's skin prickled all over and felt too small for him. "This is it," -he said in a flat tone. - -"_What_, Ed?" - -"Life plotted on the engineer's drawing board. Vitaplasm. The days when -nature designed all animals are over, I'm afraid." - -"What would it be for, Ed?" - -"How would I really know? Want to guess?" - -"To create more terror maybe?" Barbara said. "What else? To go around -at night--to stir people up with a horror that they've never known -before. They'll realize it's vitaplasm, the stuff of the androids too. -They'll link hatreds. Maybe it's another trick--a propaganda stunt -to force the fight to the finish. A stunt invented by somebody like -Granger." - -"It seems to fit the pattern," Ed said hoarsely. "You're probably -right. But this thing could have been made by the other side, too. The -android side. As a means of reprisal. I've admired them. But I don't -especially trust _their_ judgment, either." - -Ed Dukas felt sick. He wondered now how much longer anything on Earth -could last. - -Barbara touched his arm gently. "Ed, we should notify the police. For -the safety of the neighborhood." - -"Of course. And you won't stay out here alone tonight. You'll put up at -a hotel, or I'll bunk on your floor." - -Barbara managed to laugh. "The building is stout. My window is high. -There are plenty of tenants. I'm not dangerously stupid and I don't -swoon. But I rather like the idea of having you close by." - - * * * * * - -Ed Dukas had no trouble convincing the police that he had seen -something extraordinary--which was proof enough that there had been -other calls, previously. Ed slept a few hours on a divan, listening, -while, outside, armed men patrolled the streets and watched the backs -of buildings, which were kept brilliantly illuminated. Floodlights -lighted up that shaggy wood lot like day. Low, flat robot vehicles -plowed through it. - -Nothing was found. - -But miles away, nearer the city, there were a dozen dead--all of them -of the old order of life. They were crushed. Not a bone in their bodies -was intact. They had been dragged from their beds while they slept. - -Horror swept through the city. The monster or monsters had been seen. -They were of the same substance as the androids. Therefore, this was an -android attack, clear and simple--to minds blurred by fear and fury. - -Scared, angry faces surrounded Ed Dukas in the streets the next -morning. The coldness in him was like a stone behind his heart. He -seemed to be hurled along by time, helpless to change its course. Even -Barbara looked sullen and confused, though, walking beside him, she -tried to sound cheerfully rational. - -"You know, we could all be changed over into androids. I wonder if you -or I would ever want that? I think that even you are not especially -sympathetic to them, except as something new and potentially great. -Damn! I wish my wits were clearer. An android is a refined machine, you -might say. But to be a human being is to be a thing of soul--is that -it? A creature of tradition and pride, of sentiment." - -Ed Dukas shrugged. He felt bone and brain weary. - -That same day there were bloody riots in scattered localities--much -worse trouble than before. It seemed like the start of an avalanche. - -That afternoon another incident happened. Les Payten came to meet his -friends again in their favorite restaurant. They sat chatting glumly -and listening to the newscast. The androids--"The Phonies," they were -already being called--were slipping away to the hills, for safety and -also no doubt to gather their own not inconsiderable numbers, and to -entrench themselves. - -Les Payten was called to the phone. He came back after a minute, saying -with a puzzled expression, and almost a cynical smile, "My father -committed suicide. He left a note: 'Eternity is a joke. And I'm sick of -being a robot. But what's the good of being a man, either--now?' Burned -himself wide open with a Midas Touch pistol. I guess the ultimate -cruelty would be to bring him back." - - * * * * * - -That night there were three times as many crushed bodies as the night -before. But there were far more deaths caused by other violent means. -Two weeks passed, each day worse than the preceding. Neighbors started -hurling imprecations at neighbors: "Test-tube monkey!... Obsolete -imbecile!..." - -Once there was a news report: "Equipment found--a power generator of -a type and output similar to that for a star ship, but obviously for -another purpose: meant, it seems, to power high-energy weapons of the -beam type. Is this an android or a human assembly? The equipment was -ordered dismantled. It was found in a large basement in the City." - -And Tom Granger began his broadcasts again: "Androids--your numbers -are relatively few. You could not win against us. And we would take -you back--kindly--to become people again. Most of you once were human -beings. You were meant to be that..." Granger's tone was softer; it was -condescending. - -Ed Dukas phoned Granger at the newscast studio. After a long wait, he -managed to contact him. That Granger agreed to speak to him at all was -no doubt due to Ed's relationship to Mitchell Prell. - -"Granger," he said, "I'm pleading. Please, forget that you know how to -say anything. No, I don't want to offend you--but it's just no good. -I'm not guessing--I've seen. To some you may be a great leader. To -others--well--you're a lot less. So do us a favor--again, please! Go -away, disappear. Take a long, silent rest in a place unknown." - -Ed Dukas was desperate, grasping at straws. For a fleeting moment his -hope almost convinced him that his mixture of begging and ridicule -might work. - -"Do I know you? Oh, yes, Dukas!" Granger mocked. "We should converse -again when we both have the time. You still need instruction, I see. -You are an incorrigible lover of fantastic novelty, Edward Dukas! Now -you're frightened." - -"Yes, I am frightened!" Ed replied, calmly now. "If you weren't a fool -and a fanatic, you could guess that millions of androids--supermen, -some call them--could not be weak." - -"Goodbye for the present, Dukas." Granger broke the connection. - -Ed rubbed his face with his hands. He thought of the sinuous thing -he had once seen, and of the killing that it--and other things not -necessarily of the same shape but of the same substance--had done. -Could Granger be one of those who sought to stir up more dread and fury -with lab-created monsters of vitaplasm? Should he try first to find out -who was using and directing them? - -It would be slow work. So, that same afternoon, he chose another path -which might lead to quicker results. He went looking for old Abel -Freeman, who he guessed was of the sort to be a leader among his kind. -By asking around, he located the house where Freeman was said to live. -But the picturesque android had long since vacated his lodgings. - -Ed gathered Les Payten and Barbara. - -"Freeman will be in the hills somewhere," Barbara pointed out. "With -others like him. What if, for a lark, we rent a helicopter, and see if -we can find him? What can we lose?" - -"We're near the end of our rope," Les said. "I'm willing to try -anything." - -It was a crazy stunt, but they agreed on it. Ed had picked up some -information about where Freeman might be found, plus a few facts of his -recent history. Naturally, Freeman had a bad reputation. - -Arriving over the wooded mountain country where Freeman had often been -seen in the past, Ed let his craft settle into various forest glades, -one after another. At first they saw no one, although certainly many -androids had now retreated into this wilderness. - -However, after they had made a dozen tries in as many places, Freeman -himself suddenly appeared, dirty, covered with burrs, but dressed now -in coveralls of modern vintage. A Midas Touch pistol was in his belt. - -"Hello!" he greeted. "Yes, I know you three young ones! Are you lost?" - -"We're here for neighborly conversation," Ed began. - -"That's mighty nice," Freeman mocked with a twinkle in his hard blue -eyes. "Could be you're here just to snoop. Could be me and the boys -should do you in." - -"Could be we _are_ here to snoop--to learn a little better what's going -on, that is," Ed replied. "And we're also here in the hope of finding -somebody with good sense and wits and influence enough to keep this -planet from becoming another Asteroid Belt." - -Abel Freeman's glance held a certain sparkle of admiration when he -glanced at Ed; then it turned grim. - -"You couldn't mean me," he said. "Figured on going around, minding -my own business, without being crowded. Got crowded plenty, though, -closer to the City. Gettin' crowded here, too. Had to smash up quite -a few people. Don't figure on taking it for good. Lucky we were made -cheap. Couldn't stand it, otherwise. Hiding in the brush. Eating -sticks. Hardly ever sleeping. Lucky we can't catch pneumonia. We could -stand conditions far worse than this--but it gets awful tiresome. Seen -Granger lately?" - -"You can smell him most everywhere," Ed answered bitterly. - -There was a loud explosion a hundred yards to the left. A Midas Touch -blast. Ed felt the shock-pressure of it and held his breath until the -radiation-tainted vapors cooled and blew away. - -"That's Nat, the hellcat of my boys," Abel Freeman remarked casually. -Then he shouted, "Nat--you damnfool--don't you know there's company?" - -Then Ed and his companions saw them--a beetle-browed foursome peering -from the brush. The Freeman boys. They looked like a quartet of -Neanderthals. But in a way they were less human than Neanderthal -men. For they were the crystallization, via science and vitaplasm, -of someone's romanticized and comic conception of the vigor of his -ancestors. - -Behind them now appeared a girl with pale golden skin and eyes whose -slant suggested the beauty of a leopard. This would be Freeman's -daughter, the inestimable Nancy. There was also a leathery crone, -mother of the pack, and wife of Abel. - -Nat Freeman fired the Midas Touch again. Obviously he wasn't trying for -accuracy. In fact, he must have miscalculated some. For the wind blew -the radioactive vapors against Les Payten, standing a little to one -side. He screamed once, writhing in their hot clutch, and collapsed. - -Abel Freeman, the android renegade, rushed unharmed through those -vapors. Only his clothes charred. "Nat, you stop playin'!" he ordered. -"And as for you three young ones--you haven't got the sense you talk -about! Coming here? You're enemies. And you're weak as daisies! No, I -don't figure I'd ever want to be your kind, even without the raw deal I -got! Lots better to be a devil in the woods until we can come out--if -there's anything left to come out of, or to! Now get out of here -fast--before my family gets annoyed." - -Abel Freeman lifted Les Payten's hideously burned body into the -helicopter and then held the door open for Ed and Barbara. "You better -take care of this fellow right away," Freeman said. "Now get on your -way!" - -Ed guided the craft toward the City, where Les would certainly spend -several weeks in a lab tank before his injured flesh was back to -normal. Les kept muttering in semi-delirium, "Damned robots. Freeman, -too. And damned, ornery people. Got to pick between them, don't we? -So maybe zero will cancel zero. Can't stay on the fence all the time. -Sorry, when the going gets rough, I'm for the people. Peaceful common -sense? There just isn't any." - -Les's voice sounded like a dirge for two races. - -Barbara said, "Maybe he's right. There isn't any sense left. Only a -picking of sides for battle. Our efforts went to waste." - -She sounded remote, almost unfriendly. Ed suddenly felt that he was -losing her, too. - - - - -IV - - -That was a bad evening for Ed Dukas. He left Barbara at her house, -which was now guarded. But he did not get home easily. For that was the -evening trouble became general. John Jones of old-time flesh and blood, -and George Smith of vitaplasm forgot all their politeness and let their -smoldering thoughts come to the surface: - -"So now you brew up monsters like yourselves, to attack us. I wouldn't -be like you if it was the last way to be alive." - -"Oh, no, brother? Those creatures must be yours. What makes you so -good? Born with your own hide, eh? The elite. With jelly for insides, -and a mean nature." - -Talk swiftly led to flying fists. But who could hurt an android -with a human fist? Before their hardened knuckles a human jaw could -become mush. Still, there were heavier primitive weapons. Then, by -progression, weapons that were not so primitive. - -Ed didn't try any more to quell the trouble. He watched it, walked -around it and away from it. The wise and careful thinking that he had -been taught to believe in seemed to have deserted his kind. The stars -were only a remote fancy, lost in the chaos of local emotion. Feeling -beaten, Ed finally got home. - -This was the evening when he told himself that anything could happen -at any moment--that morning might not even come. On the newscast, he -heard the report that the first star ship--to be aimed perhaps at -Proxima Centauri or Sirius--was within weeks of completion out there -on its asteroid. There were infinite heights to this era of his. And -terrifying depths. - -This was the evening when, fearing that the spoken word could no longer -be heard through the din of clashing hatreds, Ed Dukas decided to write -letters. - -He meant to begin with a letter to Les and then write to his father, -whose eyes had turned backward toward archaic simplicities. He wanted -to write to Granger, asking again for calm. But he had only completed a -few paragraphs to Les when that kid nickname of his appeared on a blank -sheet of his paper. From nowhere: - -"_Nipper._" - -Only Mitchell Prell, unheard from for ten years, had ever called him -that. His uncle. A likable little man, tainted by accusations, but -part of the once thrilling thoughts of the future. Mitchell Prell -had belonged to the onward surging and reaching of science--and its -stumbling. The lunar blowup had come as a forerunner of the first leap -to the stars. And the human-and-android animosity had resulted from the -mastery of the forces of life. Wonder becoming horror. White turning -black. Till you hardly knew what to believe in, except that, being -alive, you had to go on trying to make things right. - -For an hour Ed Dukas sat in his room. Nothing more appeared on the -paper which he had clamped under his microscope. "_Nipper._" That -was all. Silly name of his childhood. Often he looked around him, -as though expecting someone to appear. Several times he said softly, -"Uncle Mitch, you must be here, someplace...." - -There was no answer. - -The muttering tumult in the streets--the shouts, the occasional rush of -feet, the curses and yells--masked the arrival of Tom Granger. Ed was -startled from his preoccupation to find Granger almost at his elbow. -With him was a man who looked like a plain-clothes police official. In -the background, grim and frightened, was Ed's mother. - -"Eddie," she said. "If you know anything, tell. Mitch just isn't worth -any more trouble to us." - -"Tell what?" Ed demanded, rising. - -"About where Mitchell Prell is," Granger told him. "You said things -which hinted that he might be around." - -Ed's throat tightened. It was still a minor shock to remember that the -probe beam had probably been used on this house sporadically for years. -The refined radar of the probe beam could, if minutely focused, make -fair pictures of distant things inside walls. But Ed didn't think that -it could make the small print on a sheet of letter paper readable. -But there were instruments that could pick up faint sounds from miles -away--a voice, for instance--and amplify them to audibility. Ed was -still sure that, over distance, his mind itself remained inviolable. - -Ed felt cornered by the brute forces that always take over whenever -reason is broken down by fear. Once his uncle had been a scapegoat -to blame for disaster. Then, poor memories and triumphant years had -half forgiven him. But now, during trouble, he was guilty again. And -according to savage concepts of justice so were his relatives. - -The confusion of half blaming his uncle left Ed and was replaced -by stubborn loyalty. He summoned all his self-control and grinned -carefully. He wondered if the fright in Granger's large eyes reflected -realization at last of the angry hands, gone completely untrustworthy, -that now touched the controls of modern science. Was he getting -intelligent so late? Or was he afraid of something simpler? - -Ed forced a laugh. "You picked up my muttering, Granger," he accused. -"I wonder what _you_ mutter about, these days? Grant me the same -privilege of nervousness under strain which you could do a lot to -relieve, everywhere, as I have been begging you to see. No, I don't -know where Mitchell Prell is, though I wish I did." - -The plain-clothes man had moved over to the table. Now he peered into -the microscope. Soon he motioned to Granger to do likewise. Ed felt the -roots of his hair puckering. - -"What does '_Nipper_' signify to you, Dukas?" Granger asked at last, -levelly. - -"Suppose it's my pet name for you, Granger?" Ed answered. "Your friend -can take the paper along. The police laboratories might make something -else of it. Maybe I doodle with a bum pen and absent-mindedly stick -the doodle under a microscope--and right away somebody wants to make a -story of it. You want to psyche me? I've humored that kind of whim from -the police before. This time, for cussedness, I'll stand on my rights -and demand that they get a court order before they meddle with my most -private possession, my memory. Especially since hotheads and hysterics -seem to have taken over. But wait, Granger. I'm sure that sensible -people are still in the majority. They haven't reacted very much, yet. -But they will--with matters as bad as they are now. Maybe they haven't -any answers to our problems, except calm and the hope of working -something out. But that's a lot. We were schooled to cautious thinking, -Granger, and that means something, even though you and plenty of others -can lose their wits. Maybe the sensible people will finally shut you -up!" - -"We'll take the paper along all right," the plain-clothes man said. -"And you, too. We already have the court order you mention." - -"Dukas," Granger said with a show of great patience, "will you ever -realize? We're facing a soulless horror. We must be harsh if need be. -But you should be glad to give your absolute co-operation. It's your -duty. We have always felt that Prell is alive, somewhere. Twice he has -been part of disaster, even if unintentionally. We must stop him before -he can bring us greater, unknown dangers." - -Ed eyed this thin, wily man who had managed to assume a certain -unofficial power in the world. And again Ed had trouble judging him. -Perhaps he was entirely insincere. Yet he had, too, the marks of -the rabid crusader following obsolete themes that needed revision; -following them blindly, with both a kind of courage and the crassest -stupidity. - -"Tell me something, Granger," Ed said. "I'm curious. And I know I have -a duty, however different from what you mean. Did you have a hand in -the creation of the monsters of vitaplasm? I mean the real monsters, -not just the androids, the Phonies. The use of terror is old in war and -politics. Stirring up fury, with the blame carefully implied elsewhere." - -Granger's features stiffened, as if he had been insulted, or perhaps -he was just acting. "I would not dirty my hands with things from hell, -Dukas!" he snapped. "Unwise as you are, you must know that! Now I think -the police want to take you away." - -Ed's mother stood in the doorway of his room without saying a word. She -looked strong, yet bitter and scared. He knew that her loyalty was with -him, though her views differed somewhat from his. - -His father must have been out of the house when Granger and the other -man arrived, Ed thought. Did his going out on this chaotic evening mean -anything special? Wanting to be loyal, and at least half sure that the -wish was returned, Ed didn't care to complete the thought. - -He was concerned about his mother, yet he said, "Try not to worry, Mom. -Go to bed. They'll have to guard the house. I can still insist on it. -And I don't think I can be held very long, even now." - -"Your father will come to you as soon as he knows, Eddie," she said. - -So Edward Dukas was carted off to the local bastille. A helmet was -put on his head. But what was learned from him about the whereabouts -of Mitchell Prell must have been both confusing and disappointing. -Certainly, though, it must have intrigued the police, as did that -single name on the paper, which told them nothing under the most -careful scrutiny. - -Bronson, the portly local police chief, introduced Ed to a man named -Carter Loman, a bullishly handsome character with a mouth like a trap, -a smile to match, and a gimlet scrutiny. A big wheel of some sort, Ed -assumed. Was there something familiar about him? - -"You'll have to spend the night here, Dukas," Loman rumbled. - -Ed put out the light in his cell, but as he crept into his cot, he held -a bit of paper from his coat pocket in one hand. He left his fountain -pen open, on top of his clothes. For maybe an hour he lay quietly in -the dark, listening to the scattered noises of the troubled night. Then -he slept. - -He awoke as dawn grayed the east and glanced at once at the paper in -his hand, which he had kept outside the blanket. Ed's heart leaped. -A message had been written. Perhaps it had taken all night to toil -it out at a creeping pace: "_Nipper--argue police--you go Port -Smitty--Mars--at once_." - -The final _e_ of _once_ was already written, except that a line of it -was still being extended. A little dot of wet ink was still laboring -across the paper. - -Ed had no microscope or pocket lens, but he risked turning on the -light. He peered hard. He was not at all sure that he saw anything -special. But imbedded in the dark liquid he thought for an instant that -he beheld a suggestion of form--impossible or entirely fantastic. Then -the tiny minuscule of ink quivered, and the hint was gone. - -Ed whispered, so low that he himself could not hear, "Uncle Mitch. I -know that you're around--in some form. I wish I understood what you're -up to." - -Ed tore the message from the sheet of paper, chewed it to a pulp, and -spat it on the floor. At least he was destroying concrete evidence that -might provoke greater attention than his psyched memories. Of course -they would psych him again--that was why they had held him, hoping that -he would learn more. But he had learned very little. - - * * * * * - -The psyching was done. Chief Bronson and Carter Loman knew all that -he knew. Now Ed offered his proposition: "Suppose I got to Mars, as -Mitchell Prell suggests? I seem to be the only man to contact him. -You are aware that I myself haven't more than a wild glimmer of where -the trail leads. But you know that I'm badly worried about what a -human-and-android conflict can mean, and that I want to break the -danger somehow. If you want to find Prell, track me by the best means -that you know." - -Chief Bronson nodded, musingly. - -"Hmm-m--very good!" Carter Loman grunted. "Of course you would prefer -to act alone, Dukas, because you are fond of Prell. You offer to -combine forces with us only because it is the only way that you can do -what you want to do at all. All right, we agree." - -"Tickets and passport will be arranged for immediately," Bronson said. -"And now there is someone here to see you." - -It was Ed's father, angry with him but more angry with the restraint -under which his son had been put. - -"Damn it, Eddie, I tried to get to you last night, and they sent me -away!" he stormed. "And what have you been up to? What's this nonsense -about a message from Prell? Damn, has everything gone completely crazy? -I was for this man Granger and his return to rustic simplicities; but -he's gone wild, too! Isn't there any way to handle what's happening? -Phonies, and things from a witch's caldron, but grown to elephant size. -And more of them all the time! Where does it stop?... Well, it helps a -little that lots of people went out last night breaking up fights. Even -some Phonies did that, they say; but should we believe it? Scientists -were on the run everywhere, as maybe they should be for inventing so -much new trouble. The Schaeffer lab is barricaded. I'm glad for your -sensible people, Ed, but can they hold the peace for more than a little -while? And would it do any final good if they could?" - -Jack Dukas, the "memory man" of old-time flesh, was more like a dad -to Ed again, and Ed was almost as glad for that as he was for the -awakening of the forces of calm and order. - -"Thanks, Dad," Ed said with a cryptic meaning of his own. "It's a small -lessening of danger, anyway. It's a fact, though, that the situation, -at the moment, is an explosive magazine which one well-placed idiot -could set off. And it's hard to see how there could ever be less than -many. Say that our population is split three ways. Android, human -and that mixed group which is trying to keep them from each other's -throats. It's hard to see how the latter can succeed for very long." - -For a moment Ed and Jack Dukas were almost close, in spite of -differences. Ed was a little reassured. - -"I'm going out to Mars, Dad," he said. "With police co-operation. Maybe -to find my uncle. And--who knows?--maybe even to find some useful -answers." - -Jack Dukas shrugged. "More science, no doubt," he said. "Well, anyway, -good luck." - -The brief spell of companionship was broken. - -For a moment Ed was tense with the thought of precious time possibly -wasted, chasing off to the Red Planet, when perhaps he should be -trying to hunt down the perpetrators of offenses to a new biology--in -vitaplasm. He knew that time remained still desperately short, with -nuclear hell building up. But a choice had been made, and he sensed -that it was the best one. - -Ed and Barbara went to see Les Payten that morning. He lay in a bed, -his body encased in an armor of plastic, under which fluids circulated. -He had mended enough to listen and speak. Ed partly explained his -intentions. About them, Les showed a mixture of a sick man's insight -and weariness: "I hope we'll see each other again, Ed. And that -the world will still be around. And that you won't be changed too -much--strong, weak, big or little. Because I've got things figured out -_for me_ at last, Ed. Granger is right, as far as I am concerned. I was -a romantic kid, but now I've had enough! The stars are still farther -out of reach than we realize. Got to fight the murdering Phonies and -all of the vitaplasm menace, no matter what. Because there never was a -menace like it--not to me." Les grinned wanly. "So long, pals." - -In a park, some hours later, Barbara and Ed walked in the beautiful -dusk, while the arch of silvery murk that had been Luna masked a few -of the first stars. Something with long webbed wings was visible in -silhouette against it for an instant--another creature that never -existed before. It added a chill to their low mood. Ed was thinking -that he must say goodbye to Barbara, too, very soon, and to all the -chaotic wonder and charm that was Earth. Earth maybe in its last days. - -Barbara said, "I wish I were going along, Eddie." - -"So do I. Babs, go out to the asteroids. Like my mother. It's safer -there." - -"I _meant_ my wish, Ed," Barbara protested earnestly. "Of course, a -girl is still sometimes rated as a nuisance that a man has to take -extra pains to look after--no companion for one to concentrate on the -dangers ahead. Maybe it's true." - -He looked at her sharply and gulped hard. But gay little bells seemed -to tinkle in his head. "Maybe a lot of things," he commented. "But I -think you, as much as anybody, know what we're up against. Possible -death, of course, which could be permanent. Or some fantastic loss or -change of identity. How can we guess just what? If you can take all -that mystery and hardship, too--well, I won't say no. Maybe if you were -Mrs. Ed Dukas we could have Bronson provide your tickets to Mars." - -Her smile came out, like the sun. "You're heartlessly matter-of-fact -and unromantic, Ed," she told him. - -He drew her into the shadow of a tree. A couple of minutes later, when -he released her, they both looked dazed--as though, crazy as life was, -it still could be heaven. She was beautiful. He'd never seen anyone so -beautiful. - -Fifteen hours later they were aboard the _Moon Dust_. - - - - -V - - -As the ship rose on its column of fire some of the old love of distance -and enigma came back to Ed. There was also a sense of adventurous -escape, like that of city workers of centuries ago, when, chucking -business and office routines, they had rushed to the country on -weekends to regain a little of primitive nature while they scorched a -steak over a smoky fire in the woods. - -On the _Moon Dust_ there were more women and children than men: -refugees from danger. But would old Mars be much safer? Didn't it now -belong to the same human civilization, with its dark undercurrents? - -The Dukases were smoothly hurled across the vast trajectory to Mars. -They landed at a high south-temperate latitude, not far below the -farthest extent limit of the polar cap; though now, in summer, it had -dwindled to a mere cake of deep hoarfrost a few hundred miles across -and on high ground. Around this remnant stretched a yellow plain made -up of crusting mud, swiftly drying lakes scummed with the Martian -equivalent of green algae, and white patches of ancient-sea salt and -alkali. - -But Port Smitty itself was in a wide, shallow valley, or "canal," a bit -farther north. Its many airdomes, necessary to maintain an atmosphere -dense enough and sufficiently oxygenated to sustain human life, loomed -among vast greenhouses and thickets of tattered, dry-leaved plants. The -central dome was topped by a statue of old Porter Smith, this region's -first human inhabitant; he was still alive but long gone from the Mars -he had loved. For he had associated himself with the building of star -ships. - -Port Smitty already boasted a population of half a million. And there -were other cities of almost equal size. On Mars, many of the first -rejuvenated had settled. And many colonists of every sort had come -there since. - -On the rusty bluff overlooking the city were the remains of a far -older metropolis--towers, domes and strange nameless structures for -which anything manlike could have no use. Fifty million years ago the -Martians, like the people of the Asteroid Planet, had been wiped out in -war. - -Ed Dukas and his bride rode by tube train from the flame-blasted -spaceport to the city. Their hotel room overlooked a courtyard lush -with earthly palms and flowers. Birds twittered and flitted from branch -to poppy bloom. From somewhere in the hotel came dance music. - -Their room was supposed to be energy-shielded, but Ed remained -cautious. He merely left his penpoint bared in his coat pocket, with -the envelope of an old letter. He had already told Barbara all he knew -about Uncle Mitch's message and had added some wild guesses. So now she -gave her husband a smile of understanding as he hung his coat carefully -on a chair. Then she came into his arms. - -Later that evening, dancing, they covered their wariness carefully. -They might be under observation in any of a hundred different ways: by -probe beams, hidden cameras, or by individuals, android or human, whom -they did not know. In spite of old loyalty, Ed Dukas was not entirely -at ease with the thought of contacting Mitchell Prell. Yet, he wished -to avoid being trailed so that he could act alone and separate from -the dictatorial and often panic-stricken opinions of others. - -On Mars there had been considerable violence, too, though there had -been no gliding, sinuous things that brought nocturnal terror. But -here, too, there was a mingling of android and human being, with no -visible marks to distinguish the one from the other, though to many the -difference was as great as that between man and werewolf. - -Barbara seemed to grow sleepy in Ed's arms as they danced. Ed yawned -slightly. So they drifted from the room and back to their own quarters. - -Ed pulled the old envelope from the pocket of the coat on the chair. -As he had hoped, a message was traced waveringly on it: "_Go Port -Karnak--then E.S.E. into desert._" - -Both Ed and his wife knew that Martian deserts surpassed all earthly -conceptions of desolation. They looked at each other. The challenge was -still in Barbara's eyes. The fact that she could carry a pack was a -matter that had been settled long ago. - -Now Ed risked speaking--in the lowest of audible whispers: "So, -instead of going to bed, as people in our position should, we start -traveling--fast." - -He felt the safety pouch under his belt. Personal recordings were in -it: tiny cylinders, a pair for each of them. A precaution. In the -vaults on Earth there should still be others. But one could not always -be sure of those. Some had disappeared. - -As memory of what he thought he had seen in a tiny ink drop still -clutched rather frighteningly at Ed Dukas's brain. It was a hint of -how Mitchell Prell wrote his messages--in an utterly simple and heroic -way, but with fantastic, dream-shot implications. Could it be part of -android flexibility? Well, probably his fancy had tricked him, because -things couldn't be that odd. Still.... - -Often Ed had felt bitter over the confusions created by the advance of -science. But now enigmas led him on as thrillingly as ever. There had -to be wonders ahead, for thinking of Mitchell Prell without thinking of -new science was impossible. - -"Let's go, Babs," he whispered. - -Casually, like ordinary guests checking out, they put two light valises -into the conveyer and dropped to the main floor by elevator. The rest -of their stuff they left behind. They paid their bill and took an auto -cab to the central tube station. In the washrooms they changed from -leisure clothes to the rough gear used in the Martian wilderness: -light-weight vacuum armor and oxygen helmets equipped with air -purifiers and small radios--all fitted over light trousers and shirts. -The remaining contents of their discarded valises they transferred to -rucksacks. - -In the station they mingled with farmers, miners and homesteaders. -Couples such as themselves were common on Mars; they were going out to -make their fortunes. - -They bought their tickets to Port Karnak. Ed and Barbara looked around -them. A half-dozen men among the waiting passengers wore no oxygen -helmets. True, this underground depot was pressurized, but the outer -thinness and oxygen-poverty of the Martian air had to be prepared for. -The absence of helmets, then, almost had to be the mark of the android. -To keep its vital processes going, the versatile vigor of vitaplasm -merely disintegrated a tiny bit of its atomic substance, to make up for -the shortage of chemical energy. - -Ed and Barbara boarded the train with the crowd. Much of this -underground system of transportation had merely been converted to human -beings' use from that which had remained from the ancient culture -of Mars. Behind the projectilelike coaches, close fitting in the -tubes, air-pressure built up. Acceleration was swift. Covering the -thousand-mile distance to Port Karnak took twenty minutes. - -Once arrived, Ed bought the additional equipment they needed; then in -a small restaurant they ate a last civilized meal. They took an auto -bus out along a glassed-in, pressurized causeway and descended at the -final stop, beside a few scattered greenhouses, the outermost of which -provided the city with fresh, earthly vegetables. - -Here the desert was at hand, utterly frigid at night, under the -splinters of stars. Deimos, the farther moon, hung almost stationary -in the north. Irregular in shape, it looked like a speck of broken -chinaware, just big enough to make its form discernible. Probably it -was a small asteroid which the gravity of Mars had captured. - -The Dukases began to plod. The desert came under their boots, and the -solidity of the ground gave way, gradually, to a difficult fluffiness, -like that of dry flour. It was millions of square miles of dust the -color of rusted iron, which, in part, it was. Dust, ground to ultimate -fineness by eons of thin, swift wind. Under the dim light of the sky, -colors dropped in tone to a monotonous grayness that only faintly -revealed the nearest dunes, and showed plumes of soil moving on the -wind like ghosts. The dust made a constant, sleepy soughing against -their helmets, like an invitation to death. - -Barbara pressed Ed's gloved hand, as if in reassurance, and he pressed -hers in return. Maybe they had eluded all pursuit or probe-beam -tracking. Certainly the blowing dust itself would be an effective -screen against the most refined radar device. Yet to vanish from the -view of men could mean another kind of danger. It came to Ed that even -when Mars had teemed with millions of its own inhabitants, perhaps no -one had trod within a mile of where he and his wife were now walking. - -The Dukases marched on for an hour without saying anything. But during -a momentary rest Barbara gripped Ed's arm, thus establishing a firm -sonic channel, so that they could talk without using their helmet -radios, which might betray them. - -"I hope we're not too crazy, Ed," she said. "Going out into a -wilderness like this, on the basis of a couple of strange notes, and -with blind faith that somehow we'll be guided. I hope; I hope!" - -Her tone was light and courageous, and he was more than ever glad. - -"Think of our muddled home world, and make that a prayer," Ed said. "We -might be doing something to help." - -So they kept up their march through the night and into the weirdly -beautiful dawn. The desert was rusty dun. The sky was deep, hard blue. -The dunes were dust-plumed waves, in which a footprint was quickly -lost. The rocks were wind-carven spires. Earth was the bluish morning -star. It looked very peaceful, denying the need for haste. Its ring was -a nebulous blur. - -Barbara and Ed sucked water into their mouths through the tubes which -led back from their helmets to the large canteens in their rucksacks. -They swallowed anti-fatigue and food tablets. For a moment they even -removed their oxygen helmets. There was no great harm in that; only -the distention of blood vessels under swiftly lowered air pressure and -an ache and ringing of eardrums, and of course the stinging dryness of -the Martian cold against their cheeks. Forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, -below zero, it was just then. - -"No more clowning," Ed said as they replaced their helmets. "We might -get dazed by oxygen starvation and forget what we're doing." - -They kept up their march, through the morning, past the almost warm -Martian noon, and on into the frosty chill that came long before -sunset. They were still plodding on when it was dawn once more. In -spite of anti-fatigue capsules, they were getting pretty groggy. - -In his breast pouch Ed had his pen and the envelope on which the latest -message from Mitchell Prell had been inked. Now, surely, there had been -time enough. So he ventured to disturb the writing materials. There -were more words on the envelope: "_True on course--keep moving_." - -So they continued to follow the pointer of their small gyrocompass, set -to stab precisely toward east-southeast. Ed no longer questioned an odd -miracle. It was simply there, and he was grateful. - -An hour later Barbara glimpsed fluttering movement near by: a fleck -of bright yellow. Then it was gone behind a large chip of stone. Then -it appeared again. Ed saw it, too, for an instant. It fluttered, it -chirped plaintively. It was an impossibility in the wastelands of Mars, -or anywhere else on the Red Planet, outside of an air-conditioned cage. -It was a small, earthly bird. A canary. - -Barbara stared at it. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and scared. The -tired droop of her cheeks deepened. - -"Darling," she said rather lamely. "I think that fatigue is about to -get the better of us." - -"Think again," Ed said. - -"I guess you're right," she answered. "Even without vitaplasm, it's -not much of a stunt to give a guided missile or a spy-robot the form -of a little bird, with television eyes. And a Midas Touch weapon, or -something equally unpleasant, built into it. At the hotel in Port -Smitty, it was unrecognizable among the other caged canaries. Here, -though, it's unmistakably identified. Which means that whoever is -guiding it--the police looking for your Uncle Mitch or friends of -Granger's, or whoever else--don't care any more that we know what it -is. We're helpless now--they think." - -A dull fury came to Ed Dukas. He might have guessed that all chances -of their eluding surveillance would have been countered carefully. -This birdlike mechanism must have followed them all the way from Port -Smitty, keeping just out of sight. - -Then a more hopeful idea hit him. But reason conquered it. "No," -he said aloud, gripping Barbara's shoulder so that she could hear. -"If the pseudo-canary was Uncle Mitch's guide for us, it would have -revealed itself sooner, and the messages on paper would not have been -necessary." - -In a flash Ed drew his own Midas Touch and fired it at the place among -the broken rocks where the canary had just vanished. At a little -distance there was the usual spurt of incandescence, fringed now with -red dust. But from the projecting boulders near its base, a small -yellow form spurted with a faint and musical twitter of mockery. Then -a heavy voice spoke--one which neither Ed nor Barbara recognized just -then: - -"Better luck next time, robot lovers. Lead on!" - -Thereafter, the false canary was careful not to show itself. And Ed was -left with his frustrated anger, and with other uncertain thoughts. What -if the written messages had not come from Mitchell Prell at all, but -from someone else with an unknown purpose? Or, what if they were from -Uncle Mitch, but had been prepared long ago and left to be presented to -him, Ed Dukas, by means of some mechanical agent? What if--well--many -things. - -Using his tiny portable radar unit to locate the bird drew only a -blank. Perhaps the little mechanism with a radio speaker for a voice -was effectively shielded against such detection, even at short range. - -To attempt evasive action would be a waste of time and waning energy. -There was nothing to do but go on, see what developed, and trust to -luck. There was the certainty that real pursuit would come, but what -shape it would take remained unknown. - -As Ed and Barbara plodded on through the day, their minds became fuzzy -with weariness. Once, in a kind of retreat from present harsh facts, -Ed's thoughts touched a vivid daydream that he'd had before, of a -planet of some star. He looked down at imaginary dry ground under -imaginary feet and saw that each pebble under the strange, brilliant -sunshine had a little hole in it. And something shaped like a cross, -with four rough, brownish-gray arms that could bend in any direction, -scrabbled away, flat against the soil, its equipment glinting. The -thickets all around were stranger than those of Mars. - -Yes, it was just a daydream, originating from within himself, like an -old, half-buried hope of some distant exploration. He wondered if it -could ever still have any fulfillment, or if that even mattered any -more? Perhaps, for all he knew, his wife and he were now headed for an -even stranger region. - -Ed shook his head to clear it. He did not want to disturb the envelope -in his pouch too often. To expose the ink to the dried-out Martian air, -while the writing was in progress at hour-hand speed, might spoil a -vital message. But at last he chanced it. It seemed that the writer was -not much troubled by the presence of the bird-thing or what it might -mean. - -Barbara and Ed read avidly: "_Base of capped granite rock before you. -Lab._" - -Barbara nodded toward a formation which loomed a half mile ahead in -the freezing cold of late afternoon. The slab, balanced crosswise on a -slender pinnacle, identified it beyond doubt, though there were other -similar spires around it. It cast its shadow on the sunlit dunes. Or -was all of that dark, irregular patch shadow? - -Ed Dukas and his bride had not enjoyed the luxury of natural sleep -for a long time. But summoning their flagging strength, they hurried -forward. Ed felt that at last he was approaching the solution of -ten-year-old enigmas. - -The darker area at one side of the capped rock was not all shadow. -But the Dukases had scant attention for the bluish masses of plushy -stuff that grew in this aridity. At another time it might have been -fascinating, for it was vegetation related to the android as moss is -related to a man. It was a growth of vitaplasm--another of Mitchell -Prell's experiments. But Ed and Barbara had no chance to ponder this. - -They located an eighteen-inch cleft at the rock's base. Edging into it, -they found an irregular stone pivoted on steel hinges. To their touch, -it closed behind them, and bolts clicked. From the outside now the -outline of the door would seem merely a pattern of natural cracks in -the granite pinnacle. - -Atomic battery lamps lighted the passage, and there were more heavy -doors, some of them of steel, for Ed and Barbara to bolt behind them. -The place was like a small, secret fortress. At the bottom of a spiral -stair, beyond a small airlock, was Mitchell Prell's latest and perhaps -last workshop. - -He must have blasted it from the crust of Mars without help. It was -a series of a half-dozen rooms and was no larger than a fair-sized -apartment. Smallest of all was the combined sleeping room and -kitchen; and there the evidence of months or perhaps years of absence -was plainest. The bunk was thick with dust, and food remnants were -blackened on unwashed plates. The air, of earthy density, smelled of -decay and a strange pungence. The floors and walls were crusted with -patches of the tough, bluish growths seen outside. It was suggestive -at once of both fungus and moss but was really like neither. It had a -pretty color under the lamps, which had certainly been burning for a -long time. - -Ed and Barbara removed their oxygen helmets and began a swift -exploration of the premises. The rooms had all the marks of lone -bachelor occupancy by a man too fearfully busy with his own -deep pursuits to waste time on more than the barest attempts at -housekeeping. Apparatus was everywhere. There were even recognizable -parts of a helicopter--the one, no doubt, which had brought Prell and -his equipment to this refuge. - -At first they thought that he might since have fallen victim to some -violence or accident. And then they found his body in a rectangular, -plastic-covered tank, submerged in a cloudy, viscous fluid. It was a -standard sort of vat, much used in laboratories in repairing extensive -injury and restoring a destroyed body from a personal recording--either -in protoplasm or vitaplasm. Near by, there were three similar vats, -which, when opened, proved to contain only fluid. - -Barbara and Ed looked for a long moment at Mitchell Prell's forever -young face. It was peaceful in death that was not quite death; for of -the latter you could never be sure any longer, unless it was the death -of the species. - -If there were guile behind that gentle face, it did not show. If there -were darkness of purpose, or stubborn unwillingness to recognize errors -that he had committed in a civilization that tottered as it reached -for greatness, it could not be seen. But in this refuge, one fact was -plain: Mitchell Prell had gone on with his work in a super-biology. - -Ed wandered over to a beautiful microscope of a standard make. Its -attachments also started out from a familiar design. It was fitted with -dozens of special screws and levers. When Ed, and then Barbara, peered -into its eye-piece, they found that each of these screws and levers -could manipulate a tiny tool, almost too small to see with the naked -eye. There were minute cutters, calipers and burnishing wheels. Set up -under the microscope there was even what seemed to be a tiny lathe. In -fact, there was an entire machine shop on an ultra-miniature scale. And -there were tiny, tonglike grasping members, intended to serve--on such -a reduced scheme of things--as hands, where the human hand, working -directly, would have been hopelessly mountainous. - -In addition to this equipment, there were exact duplicates of the vats -across the room and their attendant apparatus, except that each entire -assembly was less than a half-inch long. In one vat there was a human -figure much smaller than a doll, yet perfect. - -Barbara laughed nervously. Even in this century of wonders, the human -mind had its limitations for making swift adjustments. The laugh was a -denial of what her eyes beheld. - -Ed Dukas's wide face looked at once avid and haggard. Beside the tiny -vats there was also another microscope, complete in every detail, yet -of the same relative dimensions as the little figure in the vat. But -this lesser microscope was of the electron variety. It had to be. For -at this reduced size light waves themselves were too coarse in texture -to be effective for close-range work. - -Ed turned slowly toward his young wife, whose eyes were alert and -wonder-filled in spite of her weariness. He noticed the pleasant wave -in her hair. He noted the charming curve of her brow, the tiny and -pleasing irregularity of her nose. And what was all this attention but -a clinging to an object of love when facing a strangeness so great that -it scared him as he had never been scared before. Ed Dukas knew that -his face must have gone gray. - -Now his words came slowly and precisely: "Babs, I've told you that I -watched part of Mitchell Prell's first message being written. That in -the moving speck of wet ink, for an instant something looked like a man -the size of a mote! I thought I'd imagined it. But is that what Uncle -Mitch is now? An android so small that the only way for him to write a -note to a person of usual dimensions is to surround his own body with a -droplet of ink and to drag himself across the paper, making the lines -and loops of script?" - -Barbara looked at him obliquely, doubting his seriousness. - -"Aw, now, Eddie-boy, take it a little bit easy," she said. "Please do." - -He didn't answer her. He let his unchanging expression and many seconds -of silence do the answering for him. His pulses drummed in his ears. - -At last he said, "No, darling, I mean it. There's no reason why an -android no bigger than the smallest insects can't exist. And the signs -of what Mitchell Prell did in this laboratory are plain enough. - -"Working at first with the larger microscope and the miniature tools -and machinery under it, he duplicated a now common kind of biological -apparatus in half-inch size. In its tank he caused to grow the -simulacrum of himself that you can see. Aside from the difference in -dimensions, that much has been both possible and fairly common practice -for years. Its brain having been stamped with all phases of his -memory and personality, it became him when it awoke. His own body he -left inert and preserved in the large vat. But he was not finished. -He had made just one step toward the degree of smallness that he -wanted to reach. So he started over from scratch, constructing first -another microscope and then relatively minute machinery and tools, -fine beyond our sight. Under that tiny electron microscope I'll bet -there's another, smaller machine shop, and a smaller tank from which a -mote-sized Mitchell Prell emerged. It must all have been quite a job. -It's not hard to see where those ten years went." - -Barbara was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, "It sounds -reasonable--superficially. But still, is it possible? Consider a brain. -It can come in many sizes, from an ant's to a human being's. But all -are made of molecules of the same dimensions. And it has been pretty -well determined that a brain must be always about as big as a human -being's to be truly intelligent. Trying to cram such intelligence -into a smaller lump of gray matter--composed of the familiar -molecules--would be like trying to weave fine cloth out of rope. How -can you get around that, Ed?" - -"Maybe I can guess," he said. "With smaller units. How about the -electron, Babs? Far smaller than the molecule, certainly. And it's been -the soul of the best calculators--thought machines--for a couple of -centuries. There isn't any doubt that a brain of microscopic size could -function by far finer electronic patterning. No, it probably wouldn't -work in natural protoplasm. But we already know the flexibility of -vitaplasm: easy to redesign, capable of drawing its energy even from a -nuclear source. Well, you figure it out. What have we here but other -android advantages? I think my uncle once told me that he meant to go -where no one could go exactly as a human being." - -"All right, Eddie," she conceded. "I guess I'm persuaded. Proud girl, -me. I've got a smart boyfriend. And your uncle--he skips blithely -from the bigness of the interstellar regions in his thoughts to -the smallness of dust! And he seems, _actually_, to have done the -latter--in person! Is that what we're supposed to accept as truth? If -so, he must have been with you all the time, or at least for quite a -while. On Earth, even. And he must have come out to Mars with us. He -was right in your pocket, riding with the paper and pen. To write, he -must have gunked himself up good with the ink inside the pen point. -Ugh--what a thought! And maybe he's still in your pocket right now. -He--or a tremendously shrunken equivalent of him. Does all this stack -up right in your eyes, Ed?" A pallor had crept through Barbara's tan. - -"Pretty much so," Ed replied heavily. - -"So what do we do now, Ed? Try to follow your uncle's path--down?" - -Ed's flesh tingled. To follow Mitchell Prell _down_--a course more -weirdly remote than traveling to the stars. He did not answer Barbara. -He unzipped his pocket. He could not tell whether a minute android -emerged or not. There were no further messages on the envelope. - -But from a sound cone in a shadowy corner of this workshop, there -suddenly came tones that a decade had not rubbed from his memory: - -"Nipper-hello! Or is it always Ed now? So we've come to Mars together. -And you with Barbara! Well, maybe that is an agreeable complication! -Now we can talk. Here I have the right amplifying apparatus. I need -help, and you always seemed the best--and enough like me. I know -your doubts about science, and I don't blame you. But I'm still the -same--wanting to learn everything that I can, feeling that everything -should work out right." - -The stillness closed in again. Ed and Barbara looked at each other. -Technology was full of tricks--the possibility of a thousand illusions. -Could he even trust a voice, made so like Mitchell Prell's used to be? -And could he trust the mind behind it? Even if it truly was his uncle's? - -"Work out right!" Ed growled mockingly. "That sounds almost pious! -If you are what you say you are, you were on Earth and have seen -everything. You know then how right things have been! I was around when -the Moon blew--remember? And no scared hotheads caused that. But there -are plenty of them now. And from here on Mars, I've expected to see -Earth momentarily puff up into a little nova." - -There was a sigh from the sound cone. "So I'm to blame--at least -partly--for helping to give those fools something to be furiously -right or mistaken about," Mitchell Prell's voice replied. "Well, I was -what I was, and I am what I am, Ed. I'm sorry about many things that -happened. But I can't erase them. I've urged you to come here to help -me try to counteract them. I don't think you'll stay angry with me, Ed. -Come where I am--you and Barbara. It can be done quite quickly now. I -have two forms prepared. They will take the lines and personalities -of anyone. Just set the dials above two of the unoccupied vats at one -hundred--full energy. Lower yourselves into the fluid. Clothes, or -lack of them, won't matter. Your own bodies will sink into suspended -animation." - -Again the voice from the sound cone faded out. Ed's and Barbara's -eyes met in a tense congress of thought. They were being asked to -leave their natural, physical selves behind and to become beings of -vitaplasm. To many, that was horror in itself, even without a radical -change in size. Then there was the fear of loss of identity. To be an -exact duplicate in mind and memory might not necessarily mean to be -the same person. Here was a metaphysical problem elusive and hard to -answer. What others of experience might have told you could never quite -satisfy you. You had to learn for yourself. - -Beyond all that, there was that drop, down and down into tininess, to -where physical laws themselves must seem warped by the relativity of -size levels, and to where nothing remained quite the same. Could one's -mind even endure the difference? - -For a moment Ed felt cornered and panicky. But something eager and -questioning came into him. For the first time he wished that Barbara -had not come with him. - -Finally he said, "I've got to go down, Babs. There just isn't any other -way." - -"What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose, Ed," she said. -"With us, that was settled a while ago." - -He didn't protest. She was resourceful. She'd be a help, not a trouble. -And he knew that love of adventure was as strong in her as in himself. -So the decision was made. - -Suddenly they heard a distant clink and hammering. Metal against stone. -The canary had followed them to Mitchell Prell's underground fortress. -And of course the little mechanism had been merely a scout for some -larger party farther to the rear. - -Again the words came from the sound cone, but in a whisper, "I -was pretty sure you'd be followed, Ed. But we should still have -considerable time. It'll be hard for them to break into here--without -destroying everything. And I think they'll want to see what I've got." - -Ed Dukas had never before considered his brilliant tireless uncle in -any way impractical. But now he was sensing a certain inadequacy and -felt that Mitchell Prell truly needed him. If it was Mitchell Prell, -of course--if the voice itself wasn't a trick. But now Ed was at least -more confident that he was not being fooled. What doubt remained had to -be part of many calculated risks. - -"All right, Uncle Mitch," he said. - -Barbara smiled at him rather wanly, but her eyes held a glint. He -kissed her. - -"So here goes, eh, Eddie?" she said. - -"Be seein' yuh, sweetheart," he said, taking her in his arms. - - - - -VI - - -Stripped of their boots and vacuum armor, they set the controls and -lowered themselves into the gelatinous contents of the tanks. A warm, -tingling numbness flowed into them at contact with the viscous, -energized fluid. Weariness stabbed into their muscles. Their knees -buckled, and they sank deeper into the gelatin. - -"All okay, Babs?" he asked. - -"Okay, Ed." - -Then their faces went under that surface. Their minds numbed and were -blotted out. They no longer needed to breathe. - -The journey downward into a smaller, or, in a sense, a vaster region, -was made without their awareness, in a single step. There was no need -to pause at middle size, represented by the tiny but easily visible -doll-like figure in the minute tank. Mitchell Prell's labors in two -size levels need not be done again, for that work was finished. The -direct path was prepared. There was a flow of impulses, like that of -the old-time transmission of photographs over wires. Gelatins already -roughly of human form responded, swirled and moved tediously, and took -sharper shape, in a still-smaller vat. And it was the same with the -brains meant to harbor mind, memory and personality. They also were -repeated in a finer medium, and by a different principle than their -originals--but nonetheless repeated. So, in slightly more than an hour, -the essences of two human beings were re-created in the dimensions of -motes of dust. - - * * * * * - -Awareness returned gradually to Ed. At first it was like a blur of -dreams, out of which came realization of a successful transformation, -and of where he must be. Panic followed, but briefly. He was struggling -violently in a thick, gluey substance. His entire body, even his face, -was imbedded in it. He was certain that he would smother--yet the -impulse to breathe was subdued. - -Fighting the sticky stuff, he knew that he possessed great -strength--relatively. Some of this was the android power in him. -Perhaps more of it was the increased relative toughness of everything, -in lesser size. An ant was relatively stronger than a man--a phenomenon -of smaller dimensions. And here, even a gelatinous fluid seemed like -heavy glue, its molecular chains long and tough. Water itself, not -lying flat, but beading into dewdrops, would have seemed almost as -sticky. - -Ed Dukas, or his tiny likeness, got clear of the vat and its contents, -though much of the latter still clung to him. On all fours he dragged -it with him, leaving a trail of it in his wake on a rough, glassy -surface. He kept spiraling around and around until he rid himself of -most of the gelatin. - -With avidness and wonder and dread, his mind scrambled through a moment -of time to grasp the truths of his present state and to test them. Even -the act of _existing_ in the body he now inhabited was indescribably -different. His mouth was almost dry inside. He still could draw air -into his nostrils, but breathing became unnecessary before some source -of energy that was probably nuclear. His hands and his nude body still -looked slender and brown to him. And he retained memories--of people -he knew, sights he had seen, and of things he had learned. Here he -seemed to remain himself. Those memories were clear enough; but were -they already losing a little importance, were they too gigantic to be -concerned about in this place? - -That thought, again, was panic at work--a sense of separation from -all that he held familiar. For the ato lamp towering over him seemed -as remote as the sun. The form of the less-than-miniature electron -microscope seemed a metal-sheened tower. And in his mind there was -even the certainty that his present form must be of a wholly different -design inside to meet different conditions. He knew that he could -feel the thump of a heavier heart, circulating relatively more viscous -fluids. - -And something about his vision had changed. Close by, everything was -slightly blurred, as if he were far-sighted. Farther off, objects -became hazed, as by countless drifting, speeding dots that weren't -opaque but that seemed--each of them--to be surrounded by refractive -rings that distorted the view of what lay beyond them. And because -there were so many tiny centers of distortion constantly in motion, -vision at this middle-distance never quite cleared but remained -ashimmer. Were those translucent specks perhaps the auras of air -molecules themselves? - -At a greater distance, clarity came again. For there the haze which -was not haze at all but which consisted merely of seeing too much -detail--in too coarse a grain, as under too much magnification--was -lost. Light and dark, and familiar rich colors. And he saw the whole -room around him almost as he used to see it, except for its limitless -vastness. - -For a little while Ed wondered further about his new eyes. They were -responsive to familiar wave lengths of light. Those wave lengths were -not too coarse--at least when reflected from farther objects. For -nearer things, he was not at all sure that he could see even as well as -he could by ordinary light. Was his vision, in this segment, perhaps -electronic, then? Did he see, close at hand, fringed hints of strange, -beautiful hues? Were these electronic colors? Or were there infinitely -finer natural wave lengths, far above the known spectrum, which -too-massive instruments had been unable to detect? - -This question was dropped quickly, because there was too much more. -Now he looked again, very briefly, out into the depths of air, full -of drifting debris--jagged stones that glinted, showing a crystalline -structure, twisted masses like the roots of trees, though they had the -sheen of floss. All of it was dust of one kind or another. Ed could -even hear the clink and rattle as bits of it collided. Everywhere -there were murmurings of sound, which made a constant, elfin ringing -never heard in the world he knew. - -Gingerly now he crept across the rough glass surface, back toward -the vat from which he had emerged and its companion. Barbara was his -first concern. There she was, in the second vat, imbedded in a bead of -gelatin. Already she was trying to fight free. He reached both arms -into the stuff and tugged at her shoulders to help her. He lifted -her out easily and helped scrape away the adhering gelatin, while he -worried about how she might react to a tremendous change. To counteract -the shock of it, he kept up a running flow of talk, in a voice that -even seemed a little as it used to be: - -"... We made it, Babs. Down to rock bottom, you might say. I don't -think that any conscious human shape could be made much smaller. Or -any machine, for that matter. Remember some old stories? Little men -lost in weed jungles, fighting spiders and things? Strange, unheard-of -adventure, in those days! Maybe we can even try it sometime. Except -that a spider, or even an aphid, wouldn't notice us. We're too small." - -A little pink nymph with a rather determined jaw, she seemed only half -to listen as she stared around with large eyes. - -Later, like two savages, they were clothing themselves crudely in -scraps of lint torn from what looked like a sleeping pallet. A fiber -was knotted across it in a way that reminded Ed of the safety straps by -which passengers of planes and space ships attached themselves to their -seats during take-offs and landings. Here, Prell, the tiny android, -must take his rare moments of rest. Some of the lint was far finer than -spiderweb, but it was still coarse to Ed and his wife in their present -state, as they wound its strands around them. - -"You look beautiful, darling," he said. "You're just as you were." - -Barbara smiled slightly. "Even here I'm vain enough to respond to -compliments, Eddie," she answered. "Where's Prell?" - -Her voice was a thin thread in the keening murmur of sounds. And it -was worried. Ed and Barbara both craved the reassuring presence of -someone of experience here, where everything was changed--where minute -gusts of air seemed bent on hurling you upward, so that you would float -helplessly, like a mote. You stood up gingerly, meaning to try walking -a step. But that mode of locomotion seemed not only unsafe here but -impractical. You could be swept away, and in the vastness all around, -how could one mote find another again? Too much of what you were used -to was lost already. Even the habit of walking no longer functioned -properly. The air was a buoyant, resisting substance, a prickling -presence of individually palpable molecular impacts, and there was -little traction for one's feet. Perhaps, then, here you swam in the air. - -Ed spoke at last: "My uncle can't be far away. He'll come to us. It's -been only a moment." - -Barbara clung to him, afraid. "Eddie, am I me anymore? Can I even find -old ways of talking, and old subjects to talk about? Here? Everything -seems too different. Damn--I never could accept the idea of there being -two of anyone! Us up in those other tanks--giants asleep. And yet us -here! Maybe we're different already--shaped by other surroundings! And -remember how little we are and how helpless. Moving a couple of inches -would be like walking a mile. And we came here to see if we could find -a way to straighten out the giant affairs at home. We're _androids_ -now, aren't we? A special kind. But we still have the capacity for the -old emotions. Damn it again, Eddie, everything around us in this place -is so strange. But it's beautiful, too." - -He patted her shoulder and said nothing. But her thoughts paralleled -his own. - -Suddenly there was a rumble, like distant thunder. In a more familiar -size level, it would have been a clink and a thud, coming through many -yards of granite. They both recognized it. Ed even chuckled. - -"Whoever or whatever was following the canary machine," he said. -"Remember?" - -Just then Mitchell Prell's simulacrum appeared, a comic, bearded -figure wrapped in a few strands of lint that suggested woven twigs. -He swam out of the depths of atmosphere--the fall-guy of an era that -had stumbled over its own achievements. And in several of those very -achievements, he had taken refuge. - -He alighted near Ed and Barbara and wrung their hands cordially. Then -words spilled out of him excitedly: "Ed. Barbara. We've got to hurry. -But first we should put our minds straight about one another. I know -that back home you were on the side of responsibility and good sense. -Well, so am I. There haven't been many new quirks added to my viewpoint -since you first knew me, Eddie. I want knowledge to blossom into all -that it can give us. I think you do, too. Now tell me how you feel." - -Mitchell Prell could still inspire Ed Dukas. Even here, at this -opposite, smaller end of the cosmos, he imagined again his splendid -towers of the future. - -"There were moments when I felt pretty bitter," he said, in not too -friendly a fashion. "But in the main I'm with what you just said--all -the way. I put my life on it as a pledge." - -Barbara nodded solemnly. - -"Thanks," Prell answered, the breath that he'd drawn for speech -sighing out of him. "I'm more grateful than I can tell. You two may -think that we're too tiny--that our size makes us powerless. I don't -believe that's true. I was on Earth as I am, you know. I went there and -back--undetected--on space liners. But while on Earth I missed many -opportunities to act against danger. Maybe I'd been here too long, down -close to the basic components of matter, studying them. And I went to -Earth poorly equipped in both materials and experience. Well, I think -you can see how it was. Let it go for now. Visitors are at our door. I -suppose we've got to try to meet them in the manner that they deserve." - -"Call the shots!" Ed said impatiently. - -Mitchell Prell smiled rather wistfully. "The main part is done," he -replied. "I set the small remote controls of the large vats for revival -of the bodies in them--our larger selves. That was why I was delayed in -getting to you here. They are colossi. They cannot hide. And they must -be defended. I'm sorry, they are better able to defend themselves than -we are to defend them. At least they will have a better chance alive than -inert. Revival takes a little time, but in a moment you will see." - -Ed did not quite know what to think about this action on his uncle's -part--whether to agree to it or to suspect that it was somehow -a mistake. Circumstances were too strange here, and he was too -inexperienced. And the whole situation itself was fraught with -confusion for him. Two selves, both named Edward Dukas? It was not a -new circumstance in the ideas of the times. You knew that it could be. -Yet it remained a muddle of identities hard to straighten out. Barbara -clung to him again, her feelings doubtless similar to his own. - -"It's happening," she whispered. - -And it was. From their perch on the scored, glassy surface under a -miniature electron microscope, they looked out past the minute tanks -and the attendant cables, crystals and apparatus that had given them -special being, and across the shimmering void of air, they saw those -other vats, glassy, too, and tall as mountains. - -It seemed then that the mountains opened, unfolded, grew taller, -disgorged Atlases that stepped dripping over a cliff wall. There was -no connection of mind now--these three giants were other people, -for the link had been broken in the past. There was no blending of -consciousness. - -Now there were vibrations almost too heavy in this miniature region -to be called sounds. They were more like earthquake shocks. But Ed -realized that they were just the noises of normal human movement--the -giants Ed, Barbara and Mitch putting on their boots, the grind of their -footsteps. Meanwhile they conversed, it seemed; but their voices were -only a quiver, a rattle, with a hint of worried inquiry. The giant -Mitchell Prell seemed to make suggestions. - -The lesser Prell must still have understood what was being said. For -now he gripped a roughly made microphone and talked into it. His words -were amplified to a seismic temblor as they emerged from the sound cone -on the far wall; but to Ed and Barbara they were still directly audible -from the speaker's own lips. "You've come down to me successfully. -Now we must see what will happen. Ed, if it is only the police at -our gates, perhaps it would be best simply to present yourselves as -citizens. You and Barbara have rights. And you've fulfilled your pledge -to them. They can't harm you. Beyond this, I must apologize to you -both. You have made a difficult journey to what must seem to you a -frustrating blank wall--without experiencing anything very new. That -is a defect of being duplicated. And there is no time now to blend -into your minds the memories of the descent into smallness. I'm sorry. -Mitchell Sandhurst Prell--yes, you, my overgrown former identity--show -them what to do. But for heaven's sake, move this workshop of mine to a -slightly less exposed place!" - -Because he was like his old self, the smaller Ed Dukas still thought -as his original did. So, after all, there was that much contact. He -understood the frustration that had just been mentioned, plus the -confusion of not having seen the reality of another size level. This -failure could even involve suspicion of his uncle's purposes. But there -was loyalty and belief, too. From the basis of parallel minds, the -lesser Ed felt all these emotions personally. - -So he moved quickly, closer to the tiny microphone, bent on giving -reassurance. He shouted into it; and of course his words came out -sounding somewhat mad: "Ed, it's me! Ed! Honestly! And that was a real -Mitchell Prell speaking. Take care of yourself--and Babs--because -you're me--or still part of me. And we both love Barbara--in any form. -Hello, Barbara, darling." - -There was no time to say any more, for now there began a steady, heavy -vibration, growing gradually stronger. In a moment he guessed what -it was. A huge, high-speed drill had been brought into play against -granite. Very soon now these caverns would be invaded. - -And more was happening. There were more seismic temblors. A colossus -moved nearer, bringing its shadow; its wet clothing seemed to be woven -of cables instead of thread. The face, briefly glimpsed, was a huge, -pitted mask, bearded with a forest of dark and tangled trunks. A wind -came with him, caused by his motion. He was that other Prell. - -"Hang on!" his tiny android likeness yelled. - -Ed of the dust-grain region drew his Barbara down. They flattened -together and clutched part of the intricate but roughly made apparatus -attached to the vats from which they had emerged, just as the glassy -floor under them tilted, and they were almost swept away by gusts of -air. Wires had been disconnected, and now the whole assembly--large -microscope with the miniature machine shop, middle-sized tank and -middle-sized doll figure under it, and the lesser electron microscope -with its similar though reduced equipment--was being carried and -hoisted. - -It was set on a high shelf. And what must have been a translucent jar -was placed in front of it to hide it casually. Maybe there was no time -for anything else, for that rough vibration of the drill was becoming -rapidly more pronounced. - -"They ought to put on oxygen helmets!" Barbara shouted in the quaking -tumult. "These vaults will be unsealed! And they aren't built to live -in Martian air!" - -Maybe the three giants even heard her, through the mike and sound cone. -But they would know, anyway. - -From the twilight of the jar's shadow, Ed could still see into the -immensity of the room. The colossi were donning their heavy gear. - -The vibration had become a gigantic rattle with creaking, crackling -overtones, audible only to micro-ears. Ed felt almost shaken apart and -dazed by it. Any instant now the drill would break through into the -room. But he didn't anticipate much real trouble. It wasn't reasonable. -He felt fairly sure that it was the police who had followed his larger -self here. They had their duty to give protection, not harm. Their -power might be warped by the fears and prejudices of the times, but not -beyond reason. - -He knew that there would be a jolt when the drill came through. So he -scrambled over to the pallet and pulled from it a long bit of floss, -thicker to him than a rope. Quickly he bent one end around his waist -and knotted it, and fastened the middle of it around Barbara. The far -end he passed to his uncle. - -"Tie on!" he shouted. "So we don't get separated. And hold tight to -anything solid!" - -The break-through came, and it was not too bad. It felt like a monster -ram hitting the world one sharp, stinging blow; then the spinning -mountain of the super-hardened drill bit--all of a yard across, it -must have been--braked quickly to stationary. There was no tumultuous -outrush of air of earthly composition and pressure. The drill hole had -evidently been capped. - -Ed saw the colossi there in the room--the originals of himself, his -wife and his uncle--grimly clad for Mars. They had taken up positions -a little behind this obstacle or that, not ready to trust entirely but -more or less sure. He knew how it was--particularly with his other -identity. There had to be this tense moment before someone, known or -unknown, spoke. They were armed. At the hip that was still his own in -a way hung the Midas Touch pistol that he remembered, though it was -expanded seemingly a million fold. - -The outcome was different from what he could have hoped or expected. -There was no voice of challenge or greeting from behind the drill. You -could not see beyond the dark space around its jagged rim. There was -only perhaps a small, intuitive warning before the neutrons of another -Midas Touch struck, and a few of the atoms of metal and flesh and -stone exploded in a narrow, sweeping curve, making a flash in which -all visible details became lost and a volume of sound and quaking in a -confined space that, of itself, could have killed. - -The little Ed Dukas could be proud of his forerunner, for he was quick -enough to have half drawn his own Midas Touch, just as the blaze of -light came. - -It didn't do any good. The lesser Ed's android consciousness was rugged -enough not to be lost, even as he and his companions, tethered like -beads on a string, were sucked upward into the swirling dust of the -atmosphere. So he saw how the Midas Touch, discharged from behind the -drill, cut slantingly, like a sword blade, across the room, its narrow -beam slicing through the three giants almost simultaneously. Then, -for a moment, coherence of impression was lost in swirl and glare and -tumbling motion. But when the tumult quieted slightly and he floated on -choppy air currents, he saw the crumpled, mountainous forms. Mitchell -Prell--colossal version--had been chopped in two at the waist. The -heads and shoulders of the other two giants had ceased to be. - -To Ed Dukas's micro-cosmic nostrils, the smell of burned flesh remained -unchanged. Nor was his capacity for horror any different. It came after -that small, numb pause of doubt of what he had just seen. He heard the -lesser Prell and the lesser Barbara shout from beside him. They had not -been torn loose from the joining strand--luckily. - -At first he thought that the attack had come from someone other than -those who had trailed him. But then the drill point moved forward. -From behind it stepped several men, wearing the trim vacuum armor of -Interworld Security--usually honorable in the past but now sometimes -made shaky and corrupt by the doubts within its own ranks and among the -people about what, within the realm of human effort, was good or bad. - -The group had a leader. Ed and his companions drifted idly in the air, -near the man's shoulders, but his helmeted head still loomed in the sky -of their present world. Old personality hints were hard to translate -from such magnitudes; but the cocky briskness and triumph showed. There -were rumblings and quakings of speech. Ed began to recognize repeated -patterns in the rattle of it. Centuries ago, the deaf had had a way -to "hear"--by sense of touch. And by feeling the heavy vibration, Ed -knew that he was "hearing" syllables too heavy for his present auditory -organs to detect as such: "... Prell's lab ... Dukas led us...." - -Ed could still understand only scattered scraps; but the skill was -coming--now, with his body, he felt the stinging discord which must -have been a harsh laugh. - -Now a gust of wind from a vast swinging arm lifted the strand of floss -and the three who were tied to it upward. Beyond the view window of the -helmet, Ed saw the tremendous face--rolling plains and hills, pitted -with pores and hair follicles, and scaled with skin, beneath which the -individual living cells were easily visible, the latter mysteriously -haloed around the edges with a faint luminosity. The mouth was a long, -rilled valley, crescented into a hard grin. The nose was a crag. The -eyes were concave lakes set in rough country and islanded with iris and -pupil. - -"You know him, don't you, Eddie?" Barbara said. - -Size did not hide the bullish quality or the gimlet stare. Rather, it -emphasized an ugliness of character. - -"Of course," Ed answered. "Carter Loman, who was with Chief Bronson and -who spoke to us before we left. An unidentified official with whom we -made the deal to come here. Nice guy. Feels that he can be the whole of -the law out here in the remote Martian desert." - -Again Loman addressed his henchmen. Ed was getting better at -understanding the vibrating words: "We'll clear everything out for -shipment back home. I've got to study this equipment! But before we -even open a door we'll sterilize everything with a four per cent -neutron stream. That'll kill even that damned vitaplasm! Fascinating, -devilish stuff! Too bad, in a way, to erase it here--because I think I -know what's still around, and I'd like to see. But we can't take the -risk. A snake I might give a chance, but not a robot or robot-lover!" - -Loman paused, then spoke again, turning his head this way and that, -directing his words toward the invisible: "Prell, you're dead, but are -you still somehow here? What can't happen in the crazy age you helped -create? On Earth we psyched your nephew. Don't think I didn't guess -what you were doing. Now we've taken your carcass into the other room -to psych your dead brain. In a few minutes we'll know. There'll be ways -to stop your kind of folly!" - -As the great head continued to turn here and there questioningly, the -still-living Mitchell Prell shouted in derision: "Here I am, crusader!" - -But there were no microphone and sound-cone in action now, and Loman -did not hear him. - -Maybe Barbara's present eyes were too minute to shed tears, but her -face looked as though she were weeping. "Loman is the worst kind -of fanatic," she said. "Sure that he's right, and blind about it. -Sadistic, energetic and, I suppose, clever." - -"I'll tell you more about him," Mitchell Prell offered softly. "His -face gives a faint glow--a fine radiation that only our eyes can see. -Radioactivity. It wouldn't be visible on Earth, where oxygen gives even -an android bodily energy. But on Mars--or wherever else that oxygen -is in short supply--vitaplasm adapts readily to other energy sources. -It would be silly for him to carry air purifiers in that helmet he's -wearing." - -Ed Dukas looked down at his own arms. Yes, they glowed, too, though -he'd hardly noticed it before in the light of the great ato lamps. - -"Then Loman is an android who hates androids!" Barbara breathed. "Well, -I guess that hating one's own kind has happened often enough before. -But an android in the Interworld Police? Under physical examination, he -could never hide what he is." - -"Legally, they still have equal rights," Ed answered. "That much I'm -glad for. They couldn't be kept out of the Force. But there could be -other twists, not so unprejudiced. A thief sent to catch a thief, would -you say? Something strong, and full of self-hatred, sent out to match -strength? Tom Granger, and thousands of others, might think like that." - -Ed Dukas's anger broke through at last, slow and terrible. Maybe he -had been too startled before for exact meanings to register. The other -Barbara, whom he loved, had been murdered, her body mangled. It was the -same with his own other self, and his uncle's. Those bodies had been -the one available route back to all familiar things and out of this -weird place of expanded forms, warped physical laws, keening sounds and -distances multiplied a millionfold. But now those bodies were gone. And -even if beings invisible in smallness could escape death in neutron -streams from Midas Touch pistols turned low, there would be little left -that they, in their tininess, could work with. They would be stranded -here in a microcosmos for as long as they could survive, helpless to -move even a pebble. - -These thoughts were fringed with a homesickness that Ed had never -before known. He wondered if a little dust-grain android could go mad. -It was Carter Loman's fault. No, the responsibility extended further -than that! To Tom Granger, the rabble-rouser, and those like him, -and those who listened. And to a renegade android leader of mythical -origin. Yes, it was Mitchell Prell's fault, too, and his own for coming -here and bringing Barbara. - -With his two companions, Ed Dukas floated high in the air, supported -by molecular impacts, near the helmeted head of an Atlas called Carter -Loman, and felt his fury and the helpless contrast of dimensions. -This giant, aided by his henchmen, had all of the advantage, while Ed -and his wife and uncle could be blown away merely by the wind of that -monster hand in motion. - -Loman was throwing words at Mitchell Prell again, his voice coming -easily through the thin face plate of his helmet. It was not a true -sound to micro-ears. Rather, it was a heavy quiver in the air, felt -with one's entire body. "Prell, I'm sure you haven't stopped existing. -Don't think that I can't understand how. And you did things to me. -There was your Moonblast, but that wasn't the worst. Everything you -stand for must be stamped out. Even if we all go with it." - -Maybe it was then that Ed's thoughts became crystalized. His anger was -turned cold and clear, as if by need. Although Ed was of vitaplasm -himself, he felt no loyalty to kind. In fact, he was still far from -reconciled to the condition. But an enemy of reason was an enemy to all -men of whatever sort. - -His wits were sharpened. Suddenly a realization of the power in -smallness came to him--combined with the hardiness and flexibility -of flesh that made even such dimensions and powers possible. Android -powers. - -"I guess everybody must have a breaking point of fear and -exasperation," he said softly. "We were born to it. To be crowded from -the Earth can seem a terrible idea. But maybe even that is as it should -be, and good. I can't agree that pushing everything into extinction -in an open fight can be any better. We've gained too much. There is -too much wonder ahead. And maybe, small as we are, we can quiet the -leaders. Under the right conditions, I think we could handle these -giants--even kill them if necessary. Quieting Loman and Granger might -help a little." - -"I know," Mitchell Prell answered. "I thought of it myself. Perhaps I -didn't have the nerve to carry the idea through. Maybe that was why I -wanted you to come to me on Mars--where I had the apparatus to change -you. Microbes are smaller than we are, yet they used to kill men." - -Ed Dukas saw his wife wince. But this couldn't make any difference now. - -"Ed and Barbara, I'm sorry for all I've gotten you into," Prell added. - -"Don't be," Ed told him. "Who can regret a chance to try to do some -good in what seemed a hopeless conflict? Now, first, let's get out of -here, if we still can or ever could." - -Ed felt some of the command switching to himself--strange, because his -uncle knew far more about these regions than he did. But Mitchell Prell -was made more for study than for physical action. And he was somewhat -fuddled by the effects of the miracles he had helped produce. - - - - -VII - - -The colossi were piling Mitchell Prell's movable equipment into a -corner, where Midas Touch pistols, turned low, could play neutron -streams against it. Then they would no doubt scour walls, floors and -ceilings with the same corpuscular beams. The air itself would heat -up considerably. Combustible floating dust, would burn to finer dust. -Drafts would seem blasting hurricanes. - -"There's a way out--if we hurry," Mitchell Prell said. "Imitate my -movements." - -And so they swam in the atmosphere. But without other aid it would have -been slow going indeed. But the motion of dust particles revealed the -direction of air currents that could be gotten into and used to cover -distance. - -Still, progress back to the shelf and the microscopes, and the tiny -workshop from which they had been blown but a few minutes before, was -agonizingly slow. By luck and scanty concealment offered by the jar, -this paraphernalia had not yet been discovered or moved by Loman and -his men. - -Ed and his companions came to rest at last on the rough glass surface -where little machines were arranged around the vats and their apparatus. - -"Tools that we can use," Ed said. "And materials that we can work. -We've got to try to take some things along. To make weapons. Could we -contrive Midas Touch pistols that we could hold?" - -"Maybe," Prell answered. "I hope so. Take this, and that--and that over -there. Hurry." - -Creatures of vitaplasm, with its complex combinations of silicon -compounds paralleling the hydrocarbons, and its internal metabolism -that could even involve transmutation and subatomic energy release, -still could die under sufficiently violent conditions. - -The three tiny androids scrambled to gather supplies and to equip -themselves. Ed was awkward in the new conditions, where even the -atmosphere tried to tear him away from any firm foothold. But he loaded -himself down. - -Before they were finished gathering all that they could use, the rattle -and flare of Midas Touch weapons, turned low so as not to damage -Mitchell Prell's various apparatus, but strong enough to destroy any -clinging speck of synthetic life that Carter Loman might suspect -the presence of, began behind them. Prell's experimental plant life -withered slowly. - -"Lead on!" Ed Dukas shouted. - -And so, though hurricanes had begun for them, they crept across the -glazed surface beneath the barrel of the little electron microscope -and dropped into the air at its edge. It was like leaping from a -cliff. But it was different, too. For if they had not been so heavily -burdened, they might not even have fallen. Being such small objects, -they had a greater exposed surface than large objects, in proportion to -their bulk. This greater surface, like a sail presented to the wind, -offered a larger area for speeding molecules to hit; hence, without the -equipment, they would have been as buoyant as dust particles. - -Still lashed together by their joining strand of floss, the three -fugitives drifted slowly down to the rear of the shelf. - -"An inch more to go," Prell shouted, in grim humor. "A rather long one, -I'm afraid." - -Again they crept. Rough stone of the cupboardlike compartment rose -around them, seemingly taller than buildings they had known. And it -glowed reddish-violet. Fluorescence, it must be, from the scattered -radiations of the Midas Touch weapons. Tediously the three crawled -toward escape, as if through a night of fire and violence. Finally they -reached a minute steel door in the corner of the cupboard, half hidden -in the roughness of the stone. - -They closed the door behind them and refastened its crude bolt. The -space around them now was narrower--more in proportion to their own -size. And there was a glow here--at least to their final eyesight. -Perhaps there was a trace of radioactive ore in the rock causing the -glow. The walls were as rough as a cave's. - -"Just a chink in the stone," Barbara commented. - -"Yes," Prell replied. "A crevice leading out to the face of the rock -formation. Feel the draft of Martian night air? It would smother -and freeze you if you were as you were born. But our flesh not only -resists cold, it can create plenty of warmth within itself. We will be -perfectly comfortable here, and safe--I think. Do you want to rest?" - -"No," Barbara told him. "We don't really need that, either, do we? So -let's begin what must be done. What are our plans, Ed?" - -"We'll make a few things, if we can," Ed replied. "Then get to a -spaceport somehow. I suppose that if we pick the right wind at the -right time, it will blow us there--eh, Uncle Mitch? Then we'll do as -you did--drift into a space liner and get a free ride back home to -Earth. There--well, we'll see. If we're very, very lucky, we might -even get our old selves back." - -Just then that recovery seemed to be his greatest, most desperate -yearning, with many, many obstacles in its way. Even their personal -recordings were in enemy hands now. Small though those cylinders were, -they were far too huge for them to move or to think of recapturing. - -"Where can we start to work?" Ed said to his uncle. - -"Farther along the cleft," Prell told him. "I've already cached some -supplies there. And there's a level space in a side cleft protected -from these constant air currents." - -Now they leaped upward and let the draft carry them. The muted quivers -of destruction in the chambers from which they had just escaped, they -left behind them. They arrived in the work area and got busy at once. - - * * * * * - -Near dawn they felt the quiverings of unusual sounds. So they followed -air currents, betrayed by drifting particles of fluorescent dust, to a -crack that showed starshot sky and the undulating desert. Thus they saw -Carter Loman's caravan start back toward Port Karnak, with its booty -of all that Mitchell Prell had made here: the fruit of a man's mind. -But to Loman it was also the worst of the world's inventions. Loman was -an android and also, obviously, a central figure, a personage of some -importance, or he would not have been sent on this mission. But his -mind remained that of a bigot. - -Just then Ed Dukas found a savage pleasure in shaking one of the -smallest fists ever to exist at the three retreating tractor vehicles. -"Loman, Granger and the rest of you," he said, "there'll come a time. -You've been fools. You were born too late." - -The work went on for days--more tediously than Ed could have imagined, -even with only hand tools to use. The same old metals seemed -unbelievably hard at this size level--and coarse in texture--as if the -atoms themselves had expanded. Barbara could scrub and scrub with a -bit of abrasive mineral, achieving only what seemed a poor excuse for -a polish. Hammering did little good in shaping such metals, though Ed -Dukas and Mitchell Prell were relatively so much stronger than they had -been. Only cutting and pressure tools were effective, when aided by -the softening heat of a forge--a tiny speck of nuclear incandescence -maintained by a neutron stream and carefully screened, though -vitaplasm, being actively or latently radioactive itself, was far less -endangered by radiation than protoplasm. - -But at last they produced three rough, cylindrical devices and their -fittings. - -Ed Dukas began to adjust to littleness. But to see boulders with their -stratified layers of mica floating lazily through the thin air never -lost its wonder. Crazy beauty was all around: strange, rich colors; -keening musical notes--fine overtones of normal sounds. Sometimes, in -the daylight, near cracks open to the outdoors, you saw living things -seldom bigger than yourself: Martian life; little pincushions of -deep, translucent purple veined with red and pronged with cilia of an -indescribably warm hue. These were Martian microorganisms blown in by -the breeze. - -And once there was something else that Ed and Barbara both saw: -something like the smallest of Earthly insects, but not that, either. -A thing of steel-blue filaments and great eyes, and vibrating vanes as -glossy as transparent plastic. Ed knew that he could shatter it with -his hands. It rested in the sunshine for a moment; then it was gone. - -"I suppose that there are star worlds as odd as this," Barbara -commented. - -She was strange herself--an elfin being that floated in the air, her -form dimly aglow whenever there was shadow or darkness. To Ed, she -was part of his vast separation from Earth. In accustoming himself to -an environment where even the simple act of walking was a memory, it -seemed that Earth dimmed away, easily yet frighteningly, like a dream, -until Ed knew that, degree by degree, his mind was becoming different -than it had been, and he not quite the same person. And it seemed more -so with Babs. - -"Bacon and eggs for breakfast, Eddie," she teased once, lightly. "Walks -under old trees beside a river. The Youth Center. Teachers I used to -know. Yes, I remember. But the memory tries to get dim. And I want to -hold on. Got to, because there are things to be done. But sometimes I -wonder if I shouldn't regret the duty. I think of swimming in raindrops -or floating high over trees--being as whimsical as children and poets -can imagine. We could do it! It's part of being super, isn't it? And I -used to be scared of becoming an android!" - -It was fun, and relief from grimness, to hear her talk like that. And -now, too, he half agreed that being of synthetic substance was not so -bad. Yet part of him still ached savagely for his old dimensions. And -here in smallness he sometimes felt that she was changing so much that -he was losing her--that she would let herself be blown away into the -vastness, never to be seen again. - -They ate a food-jelly, which Prell had prepared long ago for his -sojourn here, and radioactive silicates. In it you could see the -thready molecular chains and the beads of moisture between. Viscosity -complicated etiquette. Everything tried to stick to you. You laughed -and shook it off as best you could. - -But even in fantastic moments grim facts didn't truly fade. Hard work -helped sustain them. Murder and loss were too new. The danger on Earth -was still too plain--perhaps poised on hours or weeks of time. Speed -was the keynote. - -Only once the three micro-beings peeped back into the lab that had -belonged to Mitchell Prell, colossus. It was empty now, glowing with -the taint of radiation left by the Midas Touch pistols. No one had -troubled to neutralize it, as had surely been done with the removed -equipment. - -Mitchell Prell had built a radio, like one he had owned before. A flake -of quartz dust, a few rough strands of metal, an insignificant power -supply. Simple, compact. Certain crystals were sensitive to radio -waves. And at these tremendously reduced dimensions, they could convert -tiny induced electric currents almost directly into fine sound waves -that infinitely refined ears could hear. - -So Ed Dukas heard the interplanetary newscast again: "... Android -groups are still massing in large numbers to seek safety among -their own kind and perhaps to carry out their own plans. There is a -superficial calm. Fear of consequences so far seems to have kept both -sides in check. We hope that it can hold." - -Later there was a broadcast from Port Smitty: "... This information was -withheld but has now been released. The mystery of Mitchell Prell's -disappearance is believed solved after ten years. What is claimed to -be his body--much damaged, since he and his confederates, one of whom -is supposed to be a close relative, resisted capture and had to be -shot down--was brought in to Port Smitty and is now en route to Earth, -along with some mysterious equipment. The man who tracked Prell down -is Carter Loman, a scientist in his own right, who has had a brief -but brilliant career in Interworld Security. Detailed information is -under seal, but Prell, a known advocate of 'improved mankind,' has been -wanted for questioning and possible indictment for a long time. It has -been suggested that his researches had gone further than most would -dare to imagine." - -Mitchell Prell, micro-being, chuckled. "The funny part," he remarked, -"is that I never became a full-size android myself. My old carcass -seemed good enough. Or I didn't get around to a change." - -But Ed didn't smile at this. And he looked savage when one of Tom -Granger's speeches was rebroadcast: "Prell ended? Can we believe it? -There is an evil that could restore him in known ways. Now are there -unknowns, too? Haven't we had enough? Some things from drunken visions -are destroyed, but others come, to make our nights hideous. A creature -with a fifty-foot wingspread swoops down on a house, and people die. -Are androids any different from what they create? But we are fortified, -armed. If we must, we'll fight to the last." - -No doubt there was truth behind the melodramatic oratory--at least as -far as the horror was concerned. Barbara smiled sadly. - -"He's earnest, I think," she offered. "So there's that much glory and -courage in him, if there isn't any control. And you keep wondering, Is -he half right?" - -"I know," Ed answered with some contrition. "But I'd rather have what -he considers a scientific hell than nothing. Well, we'll soon be en -route back to Earth--unseen. Then maybe we'll find out and accomplish -something. Lack of sense, like Granger's, or the muddled way in which -laws are often interpreted now, will never work. That's one fact I'm -sure of, even in a booby-trapped situation." - -Ed was trying to be optimistic. In three weeks they had made equipment -that they thought they could use. The three cylinders were Midas Touch -pistols--neutron blast guns that could explode a few of the atoms of -any solid or liquid that their beams touched. They also had a dozen -grenades of the same principle and tubes to carry scant rations. There -was a radio for each of the three--for reception, but also limitedly -useful as transmitters. And there were knapsacks and clothing made from -linten fiber pounded and divided as Prell had never bothered to do. - -"We'll catch the first Earth-bound ship that we can," Prell said. -"Queer, isn't it? If we could truly walk, going a mile would seem -impossible. But the prevailing winds and a little jockeying will get us -to Port Karnak. The tube train will take us to the space ships." - -Prell had spoken too soon. Within that same hour, listening to the -newscast, they learned: "For security reasons, interplanetary traffic -has been indefinitely suspended." - -Ed Dukas winced as if in pain. He and Barbara and Prell looked at one -another. In Ed's strange, small body, frustration and bitter anger -fairly hummed. - -"Security reasons." That could be a blanket excuse--minus -explanations--for almost anything. Loman, knowing of something inimical -and microscopic, and guessing at an intended journey from Mars, could -well have had a hand in the suspension order. He was wary, and not sure -that he had destroyed his hidden enemies. - -The three stared down at the equipment that they had toiled so hard -to produce. But Ed, like many another man before him who had been -cornered, couldn't have quit even if he had willed it. Stubborn spunk, -fear, need to regain losses, self-preservation and the awareness of the -danger of millions of well-intentioned individuals, both android and -human, all took part in the reason. And you could add the ancient and -primal lust for revenge. - -Ed crouched with the others on the rough floor of their chink in -the rock. "Wait," he said at last. "Haven't small objects crossed -space naturally--at least in hypothesis? Yes! Spores--living dust, -their vital functions suspended. The old Arrhenius Theory of the -propagation of life from world to world and solar system to solar -system--throughout the universe. A spore, drifting high in an -atmosphere, achieves escape velocity through molecular impacts and -perhaps the pressure of solar light. It's driven into space, and -onward. Uncle Mitch, couldn't the same thing happen to us far more -readily, since we're not inert and we have minds to help direct our -movements? Since we have beams of massive neutrons from the Midas Touch -weapons? And aren't we more rugged than the first androids? Wouldn't we -have a middling chance to endure raw space itself?" - -Mitchell Prell eyed him quietly. Perhaps even his android cheeks -blanched a trifle. "Something like that occurred to me once--a long -time ago, Ed," he remarked at last, his voice very calm. "I didn't -think it through. I guess it seemed just too out of the ordinary even -for me. And there wasn't any need to try it. Perhaps I was scared." - -"There's need now," Ed said. - -Barbara's expression was a study of eagerness and half fear. "Eddie, -have you maybe discovered something?" she exclaimed. "Uncle Mitch, if -there is any chance that it would work, I'm game to try it!" - -After a moment the scientist nodded. "I believe that there's a good -chance it will work," he said. - - * * * * * - -Before the next sunup they were ready. Clothed in garments of linten -fiber, they looked like savages from fifty thousand years before. Yet -their present condition could have belonged to no primitive era. They -were united by a tough line of twisted strands, and their equipment was -lashed to their backs. To human eyes they would have been as invisible -as spirits. Were they to demonstrate, even unintentionally, android -superiority in yet another field? Maybe, maybe not. - -From the outlet of the crevice in the rock, they flung themselves into -the atmosphere above the gray desert. Their great advantage at this -stage was that, at the Martian dawn fringe, there were many updrafts, -for the air, chilled fearfully at night, was already warming. At -once they were sucked upward, as if by a vertical wind. Still, the -first phase of their climb took many hours. They kept watching for -upward-moving motes to guide them. Short, rocketlike bursts of heavy -neutrons from their Midas Touch cylinders provided the reaction or kick -to get them into the swiftest vertical currents. - -Mars dropped far below, a dun plain marked here and there by the -straight, artificial valleys or "canals." The relative vastness of a -world to beings of pinpoint dimensions was nullified by the distance of -altitude, until it looked no more extensive than it would have to the -eyes that used to be theirs. Mars developed a visible curvature and a -rim of haze, fired to redness by the rising sun. The sky above darkened -from hard, deep blue toward the blackness of space, and the stars -sharpened. The sun blazed whitely, and the frosty wings of its corona -began to show. The thinning atmosphere seemed to develop a definite -surface far beneath the three voyagers. - -They had spoken little in their ascent; but now the free movement of -sound was smothered by the increasing vacuum, and there were only -gestures and lip movements to convey meanings. - -But there was not much that really needed to be said. The plan remained -simple: get into trains of upward-jetting molecules, marked by small -blurs or warpings of light. Absorb some of that upward surge into -yourselves. How often had this same thing happened, without conscious -design? Molecules move fast in a high vacuum. Molecular velocity was -heat, wasn't it? But here it could not burn. For heat is chained to -matter, and here there was just not enough matter to be hot. - -Ed thought that they must be getting close to the Martian velocity of -escape now. Only three-point-two miles per second. They might have -attained it more simply by making greater use of their Midas Touch -cylinders. There was scarcely any reactive thrust more efficient than -that of neutrons hurled at almost the speed of light. But there was a -pride in accomplishing it in a more difficult way. Besides, the energy -supply for the weapons must be conserved. - -But now Prell signaled with his hand, and they began to use the -cylinders in earnest, shifting their course little by little from the -vertical and in the direction of the sun. For it was time to curve -inward--earthward. Swiftly now, there was no molecular distortion -around them at all. Sense of motion faded out. Their high velocity was -demonstrated only by the rapid shrinking of Mars behind them; unless, -from sunward there came a minute, resisting thrust. Light pressure? But -it would take a longer time in space than they meant to be to slow them -down at all. - -"We've done this much!" Ed said with his lips, but without a voice. - -Barbara nodded and tried to smile, and he reached out and pressed her -hand. Prell looked awed and bemused. - -Ed tried then to read part of their fortunes in the reactions of his -strange, minute body to the rigors of space. It was an atomic mechanism -more than it was a chemical one. Therefore, it needed no breath. And -the strong, radiant energy of the sun warmed it a little, so he did -not feel cold. Hard ultraviolet light seemed not to harm it. There was -only a sensation as of the shrinking of its hide--perhaps an adaptive -reaction of its demoniac vitality--to protect the trace of moisture -within it against the dryness of space. The fluid within vitaplasm -could be alcohol or liquid air--it was that adaptable. Prell had said -this recently. Such fluids did not freeze easily. But they evaporated. -So water remained the best body fluid in dry space. For in the full -light of the sun, and with a nuclear metabolism, freezing was not a -great danger. - - * * * * * - -Several days out from Mars the three contacted a small meteor -swarm--maybe a fragment of a comet moving sunward and earthward. They -moved with the swarm and landed on a chunk of whitish rock perhaps -eight inches through at its largest diameter. But to them it was an -airless world into which they could burrow, blocking the entrance to -their shelter with chalky dust--a fortunate thing, for in the open the -sun's glare and aridity of space were drying out even their android -tissues and blurring their minds. - -The meteor proved not quite lifeless, for on it clear crystalline -needles crumbled and rose again. Call it silicon biology, proving that -one could never know where something might thrive. In a fall into any -atmosphere, such growth would surely be burned away without a trace. - -Ed and Barbara and Prell learned to understand silent speech by -watching lip movements. The need for hurry still beat in their minds, -but drowsiness crept over them--perhaps another androidal adaptability -was functioning here, related to the hibernation of animals in winter. -It lessened loss of vitality when conditions were not too favorable. -But you could resist its compulsions if you applied your will. - -The meteor moved on swiftly in the general direction of Earth. The -journey would take weeks, and though Ed felt that never had there been -a crossing of distance as eerily strange as this one, still the passage -of time, and the events it held, was always with him and his companions. - -There was a way for them still to experience real sounds, even here. -The quartz-flake radio sets, pressed tight to their ears, transmitted -vibrations through their own substance, when there was no air. They -heard fragments of broadcasts coming from Earth. Pictures of what was -happening there came to mind: - -A score of monsters destroyed by hunting parties. A side issue, really. -For in guard post and sketchily fortified line, man faced the hardier -likeness that his knowledge had produced. When there were no clearly -defined geographical boundaries to separate the poised forces, you -never knew just where those lines would be. - -But the scared, the pleading, the exhorting voices, faint in the -distance, gave the mood, if not the clear view. Tom Granger was there, -and others like him. The latest claim was that vitaplasm gave off -poisonous radioactive radiations--not very true on Earth, where its -vital energy remained mainly chemical. - -Those with sense also tried to be heard. And there were other voices -calling for the retreat to simplicity and the doing of work by hand. -Such a pastoral of white clouds, green hills and sunshine could -have its appeal. But how could its philosophy and inefficiency feed -billions? Even if it were not just a bright vision seen before the last -battle? - -And in the midst of all this babble, there was another voice that was -faint thunder: "... Got things of our own now, here in the woods! Even -our own newscast station. Damn, we've taken enough! We Phonies won't go -back no further! Time to be stubborn--even if we all die for it and -never come back! They say folks would like to hang me--which shows how -much wits they've got! Even if they got the chance, it wouldn't work!" - -With a faint smile, Barbara's lips formed the name for her companions -to read: "Abel Freeman...." - -Ed nodded, watching his uncle's quizzical interest over an individual -and a legend that he had only heard them tell about. And Ed had his own -reactions, compounded of admiration, humor and icy mistrust that came -close to hatred. Whatever else he was, Abel Freeman was also a figure -of power. - -Barbara's pixyish mouth--she was more than ever a pixy--shaped other -words as they crouched at the entrance of a tiny cave that they had -excavated into their meteor. Outside, the sunshine blazed. - -"I've almost said it before, Ed," she remarked. "All these things -happening on Earth are still important to me--never fear. But I'm -a little too different now to quite belong to it. It gets like a -dream--kind of remote." - -Ed had been feeling this himself--almost with panic, because he was -enough the person he had been to ache inside with the importance and -tension of what happened at home. Yet somehow part of him was drifting -away on its own special course. - -"Hold on, Babs, a little longer," he urged. - -They fell into torpid sleep after they had devised a mechanism to -arouse them with an electric shock at an appointed time. It conserved -their strength and allowed them to pass the long interval quickly. - -Ed Dukas's slumber was not altogether dreamless. Like shadows, -people moved in his mind. His parents. His old friend Les Payten, -who perhaps had shown the white feather and had been lost to a small -viewpoint. Schaeffer, one of the greatest scientists, barricaded in -his underground lab in the City. And Harwell, the efficient but daring -adventurer--another legend of his boyhood, who sometime was supposed -to command the first star ship. And perhaps most of all, there was that -fantastic android bigot, Carter Loman, who aroused his black fury. - -Perhaps Ed slept lighter than the others and awoke more quickly to the -tingling prickle of electricity, because he had to run the show. The -major burden of responsibility was his. - -He shook his wife and his uncle awake and pointed to the blue-green -bead that was the Earth, still several million miles away. Lashing -their equipment to their shoulders and tying onto one another's waists -like Alpine climbers, they leapt back into space one more, pushed by -the neutron thrust of their Midas Touch cylinders. They had to make the -rest of their trip apart from their meteor, which would not pass any -nearer to Earth. - -When the home planet was expanded by nearness to a great, mottled, -fuzzy bubble, Ed tugged at the line for attention and spoke without -sound in the stinging silence: "We've talked everything over before," -he said. "So we know generally what to do--though only generally. We'd -like to stick together. But there is just no way to do that and work -fast--which may be a vital point. So we'll soon have to scatter. But -we'll listen on our receivers. At least one of us should be able to -find a way to communicate back. Failing that, we still know where to -meet. Remember--the oak by my old house. The valley made by the trunk -and the lowest branch." - -Prell's brows knitted, his mind probably steeped in the swift, strange -action to come. Barbara gave a soundless laugh. - -"The crotch of an oak!" her lips commented. "What a trysting place! But -it seems natural enough. Are we mad, or were we once just dull?" - -Was her gaiety just bravado, or was she as cool as she seemed? Ed hoped -that she was cool. Tugging at the linten line that joined them, Ed drew -himself close to her. - -"You don't have to speak, Eddie," she told him. "I know what you're -thinking. But why shouldn't I--and all of us--be all right?" - -Her face had sobered. She looked strong. And so he was somewhat -relieved. He kissed her. Perhaps it was odd that dust-mote beings still -could do that. - - - - -VIII - - -Ed and Barbara and Prell came to the parting of the ways sooner than -they had intended. Without instruments, it was hard to judge velocity. -They did not use their Midas Touch cylinders quite long enough to check -speed sufficiently as they approached the great blue-green planet with -its blurred ring. They hit the atmosphere, not really fast, but fast -enough. Briefly, sound was reborn around them in a shrieking whistle, -like a vast, thin wind. They tumbled over and over, and the strand -that kept them together was broken. Tumultuous currents of the high -ionosphere separated and scattered them as they plummeted lower. - -Ed was unhurt. And did he hear--more in his imagination than his ears, -here in the muffling semi-vacuum--a distant laugh and shout: "It's -all right, Eddie ..."? The impression faded away, like the voice of -some gay sprite vanishing. He'd thought before of losing Barbara. Now -they were two specks, separated from each other in the infinity of the -terrestrial atmosphere. Even with the logic of plan and method, there -was still some unbelief about how they would ever find each other again. - -Using his radio, he tried to call. But there was no answer. The -microscopic instrument could pick up messages from powerful stations -millions of miles away. But for transmission, its range and that of -those like it had to be ridiculously short: perhaps a score of yards--a -fair distance in proportionate units. - -Ed was drifting now, alone and high, as his wife and uncle must be, -too. Well, they'd meant this to happen soon anyway. So there was no -real difference, was there? Get down to work quickly, down to the -surface, where the high clouds seemed to lie flat on the gray Atlantic -and on the nearby greenery of the continent. Ed's cylinder flamed, -forcing him lower toward the City. His first chosen task was to find -Carter Loman, a key enemy. Prell's objective was Tom Granger; then he -would try to contact the androids, perhaps through Abel Freeman. And -Barbara was to try to spike the trigger of violence by whatever means -she could. That, in fact, was the greatest purpose of them all. - -Downdrafts aided Ed's descent, while he listened to his quartz-chip -radio. Was one who figured as prominently as Loman in the strained -news of the day ever difficult to find? Ed did not anticipate too -much trouble in locating him. Many people would know where Loman was -and mention of the place would be frequent. Crowds would follow him -everywhere. - -As Ed watched a wolfish patrol of armed spacecraft, flying low on their -atmospheric foils, the information came easily enough: "... Carter -Loman's quarters at the Three Worlds Hotel are constantly under guard." - -Ed was far more proficient now in getting around swiftly in the region -of smallness. Erratically but effectively, using currents of air and -the thrust of his Midas Touch blast, he descended toward a sky-piercing -tower. He drifted into the doorway of the hotel's sumptuous lobby, -marred now by the grim additions of radiation shields. For a few -minutes Ed perched on the reception desk; he was less noticeable there -than a fleck of cigarette ash. - -There were constant inquiries for Loman, by telephone and in person, -made mostly by newscast men. The clerks fended them off briskly. But -soon there came whispered thunder, so low that it was almost audible to -Ed as sound and not merely sensible as a heavy vibration: "More mail -for Mr. Loman...." - -The spark of Ed's propelling cylinder was almost too small to see as he -jetted to the heavy bundle of letters and rode up with the attendant, -past the guards, and slid with a skittering envelope through a mail -slot, and into Carter Loman's presence. - -He was sprawled on a bed and was clad in full vacuum armor of a type -heavier than would have been necessary even on a dead world. It was -pronged with special details as well: filaments, like parts of the -insides of a Midas Touch weapon. Hovering over the vast shape, Ed felt -the hard, stinging punch of a few scattered neutrons hitting his body -before he ventured too close. Even though his own life was subatomic in -principle, enough of those infinitesimal pellets could kill him. Loman -had evidently grown wary and nervous, guessing with shrewd imagination -what dangers he might now face. In addition to his massive costume, -this android who hated his kind was wearing an aura of low-speed -neutrons, constantly being projected from the filaments on his armor. -Just then, the savagery inside Ed felt its bitter frustration. Loman -even mistrusted the ban on space travel. - -The enormous face beneath him, framed beyond the glaze of a helmet -window, did not look at ease. Loman was muttering. He must have been at -it, off and on, for a long time: "I wouldn't be surprised if you were -around, Prell. Or even you, Dukas. I was right! I know all about your -little self, Prell. It was all in your dead brain. You think you'll -play a reverse David against Goliath, eh? If blasting out your lab -didn't kill you...." - -No, Ed Dukas was not so easily defeated. The aura of neutrons thrown -out only by scattered filaments was probably not of continuous -intensity. At certain points there might well be chinks in it, at which -time he could slip to close quarters without having his own nuclear -metabolism speeded up to the point of his destruction. But before he -did anything final, he had to find out where Prell's stolen equipment -was. - -Ed felt the whir of the air-filtering apparatus in the room and smiled. -And there was a television globe nearby. Ed could have found ways, now, -to make his own tiny voice audible to his enemy and to challenge him. -But Ed decided against this for the present. He mustn't waste precious -time, yet he suspected that he could depend on the restlessness of a -nervous foe not to wait here quietly very long. - -Again he was right. Perched on a ledge made by an irregularity of the -wall, Ed waited less than five minutes before Carter Loman jumped -up from the bed, cursed, and dashed from the room. Ed's Midas Touch -cylinder reddened in his hand as he jetted after him. Of firmer flesh -than other men, Loman hurried untiring, even in his massive armor and -plastic helmet, down a back stairs, passing a hundred levels. - -Then he was in a small, powerful car racing along a civic speedway that -Ed remembered well. Clinging to plush that was like a dense forest -under him, Ed remained undislodged by the tornadoes of air that came -from speed. - -Around him passed beauty that he used to know, expanded so enormously -that much of the familiar mood of it was lost; and he himself seemed -cut off from it, like a ghost coming back. But there was other, perhaps -greater beauty, too--closer to the heart of what he was now. There'd -been a controlled shower induced by the weather towers. Now the sun -shone again, and the air sparkled, not with dust, but with countless -tiny droplets of moisture--crystal globes, clear as lenses, but -breaking the sunshine into brilliant prismatic hues. - -Ed's brief rambling of mind ended when Loman did an odd thing. He -stopped in Ed's old neighborhood, after having passed a half-dozen road -blocks where uniformed men had entrenched themselves, covering their -ugly vehicles with cut branches. Loman had only flashed his Interworld -Security badge at each post, to receive respectful permission to go on. - -Loman stopped his car abruptly before a house adjacent to Ed's own--one -Ed knew well. But Ed had an odd feeling that this was not as strange as -it seemed. This suburb, close to the City, harbored many of the noted -and notorious. Besides, many recent turbulent events had been centered -within these few hundred square miles. And Loman had been in the -neighborhood before, in the company of Police Chief Bronson. Also, had -there always been something disturbingly familiar about Loman's manner? - -Ed tingled at the unraveling of an enigma, as Loman hurried up the walk -to the house. Loman found the door locked, but if this annoyed him, it -stopped him not at all. An armored shoulder, backed up by the muscles -of his kind--their power rarely demonstrated publicly--battered the -door to splinters and Loman stepped through. - -Ed followed him--as unobtrusive as part of the atmosphere--up a -stairway and into a pleasant student room seen in colossal scale. - -It was Les Payten's room which had thus been invaded without ceremony. -Nor was the intruding colossus the least abashed that the giant Les, -somewhat thinned down and pallid after his long convalescence from a -visit to Abel Freeman, was present. - -Ed saw his old friend's startled expression, then felt the vibration of -his words: "Chummy, aren't you, bursting in like this? The police, eh? -What have _I_ done? My God, I've seen your picture! You're Loman!" - -The other giant's smirk was half gentle, half bullishly humorous. -"That's my name--if you prefer," he said. "I've had you watched, Lester -Payten, for various reasons. You've been ill. Then why do you stay so -close to what may become the battle lines? You're an odd guy, Lester. -Too much fear, courage and conscience. Wanting to be a hero, but half -a martyr. Recently one of the 'reasonable' kind. Soon there won't -be any of those left. Not when a few more see those they love torn -open, crisped or perhaps crushed by created things more hideous than -Tyrannosaurus Rex. Such facts destroy the folly of thoughtfulness. And, -good! For in that way the showdown comes against another kind of slime -that desecrates the form of man! You're a mixed-up kid, Lester--maybe -even thinking of some old companions. But in your heart you know that -you're all human. Me, I'm still sentimental, so I had to come to you at -last. You ought to be safe among the asteroids, like your timid mother." - -Being an audience to these comments, Ed's first puzzlement changed -slowly toward comprehension of a weird truth. Drifting with the air -molecules near the center of the room, he watched Les Payten sitting -quietly at his desk, his look also showing that he was at the fringe -of understanding. But maybe his mind half refused to plunge into the -starkness of fact beyond. Too much had become possible. Sometimes it -might be a land too strange for human wits. - -Maybe primitive terror prompted Les to sudden violence. Or it was the -sickening cynicism in Loman's words. In a flash of movement Les tried -to get a weapon from his desk. Confronted by a human being, he might -have succeeded. But Loman even dared, first, to shut off the neutronic -aura around his armor, so as not to burn or kill the one he had come to -see. Then quick fingers latched onto Les's wrists. Les fought with all -his might but was pushed down on the floor. Dazed, he looked up at his -conqueror. - -"Yes, your memory-man father killed himself," Loman said. "But he -could always return by recording, couldn't he? Before that, it was -all arranged--with many who sympathized with the human cause. The -mind probe showed that my expressed views were truthful. Interworld -Security could use someone who was clever, unknown, and supremely -active. Umhm-m--maybe I'm even harder than they hoped! Yes, I'm still -an android, Les, because I have to be strong for battle. I hardly care -who learns of it now, because the fight is sure to come. But I'll be a -man again, when and if I can. And, like a man, I love my son. Things -will become very difficult soon, Lester. So I want you with me." - -Loman's heavy growl might have sounded paternal to common ears. But he -capped it with a light tap to Les's jaw. Les crumpled. For a moment -this fantastic echo of his original sire, changed in face and form, -stood over him, an armored demon by any standard. - -The sun had set. From the twilight beyond the window came blue flashes, -light heat lightning, off toward the wooded hills. They glinted on -Loman's plastic face window, which had muffled his words scarcely at -all. Loman seemed to match those flickers: science misused; wisdom, -once reached for so carefully, fading; the collected armaments, -improvised quickly by a master technology hidden in tunnel and on -mountain-top, by both sides. And the guts of a star ship engine -perverted. Once, on a lost Moon, a thing like that had exploded, just -by error or chance. There had been no wild speeches to bring it about. -Nor any panic. And there had been no Lomans to help in a more savage -way. - -Unless driving impulses were checked, the end could come this very -night. Ed even wondered if he might waste valuable time sticking close -to Loman any longer. Would it lead to more answers, as he had felt it -must? Well, he still was sure of that, and Loman also seemed driven by -haste. So Ed alighted on Les's shoulder and burrowed into the cloth. -It was the safest thing to do. For whatever weapon might be used, it -probably would not be directed at Les. - -Loman picked up the unconscious form and dashed out to his car. There -followed a wild ride along winding roads through the woods. Distantly, -on a hilltop, Ed saw a metal framework slanting skyward. It held a -cylinder whose neutron beam could level anything. But its power supply -could mean complete destruction in a last resort to madness, for -revenge--if someone lost control of himself, smashed the safety stops -on controls, pushed levers a little beyond them. - -There were wrecks on the road. Horror had been exchanged already, as -refugees fled the City. Beside one broken car, half fused to a puddle -of fire lay the body of a child, briefly glimpsed. And Ed detected -a man's cries and protests, flung wildly at the sky from among the -shadowy trees. Or could it have come just as well from an android -throat? - -If it was Jones of common human clay or Smith, an android, could it -make any difference? Yet it was an old thing--a reasonable man's -anguish against wrong. - -Still, was it hard to see a sequel, when something snapped in the -brain? A kind of explosion. Then, before horror and rage, immortality -or death could become equally meaningless. Good sense and kindness, -once clung to desperately, could then become zero, and Earth, sky -and humanity empty phantoms. Then could you picture the wronged one -awaiting someone of the other kind? Could you picture him aiming his -own weapon at another car and holding its trigger down until his own -curses were lost in the roar of incandescence? - -Ed Dukas rode on through the dusk in Loman's car, still clinging to -the fabric at the shoulder of his inert friend, Les Payten. The sky -still flickered--warning barrages, not yet aimed to kill. An aircraft -swooped, its weapons shredding a high-flying horror that was not -of metal. Some had been destroyed, but others always came--though -they never had been truly numerous. A few other cars sped along the -road--persons fleeing the dangerous congestion of the City. - -Ed wondered if the steady _ping ping ping_ in his quartz-chip radio -was the ultra-sonic evidence of a spy beam in action, perhaps meant to -trace Loman's course? At last the forces of law might do that to their -own, if some of them disagreed with Loman's zeal or suspected that it -had become too extreme. Chief Bronson, for one, had seemed a likable -man. Besides, even after a mind probe, many would mistrust an android. - -Ed reasoned that this must be a flight to a hide-out, which he had to -see. - -The car careened for a mile along a narrow side road, where, behind -high banks, the pinging stopped. Had Loman counted on their shielding -effect? Deeper in the woods, a block of undergrowth folded upward on -a hinge, and the car rolled inside. Then the great trap door closed -behind it. Ed was not surprised even by so elaborate a retreat as -this. Now, with his neutronic aura cut off, Loman bore Les through a -low doorway, into a great, low chamber fused out of bedrock. Could -Loman and Mitchell Prell be as alike as this in their choice of secret -places? Queer--and yet not so queer. Both were scientists. Prell had -invaded the field of biology and Loman, in his original incarnation as -Ronald Payten, had been a biologist from the start. - -Ed might have attacked, now that Loman's aura was inactive. But it -could be restored in an instant. Better to wait. A clearer chance might -well come. His enemy might even be trying to lure any small, unseen -intruder close to the coils of the aura. - -Besides, in the soft artificial light, answers lay--answers that Ed -had only dimly suspected, in spite of Loman's background. Since he -had learned who Loman was, there hadn't been time enough for him to -understand. But now the solution to a dreadful mystery came easily, -because Ed could intrude here unseen. - -There were vats here, too, vaster than any Ed had ever seen from any -viewpoint and webbed with their attendant apparatus. Beneath the glossy -surface of the fluid, like smooth oceans in the floor, various shapes -were visible--all devilish but half transparent in their undeveloped -state, their smooth plates of vitaplasm muscle and scale showing, but -already alive and in slight, undulating motion. And no doubt these -things were only in the embryonic state. They could grow much huger -after being set free to hide and kill. Here, then, was the devil's -brewpot of creation. Here the first slithering synthetic monsters must -have been blueprinted and created. It was Ronald Payten's work--the -product of his skill and his secret quirks. Madness in vitaplasm, to -help build hate between android and man and bring the conflict to a -climax. - -And there was more. Against one wall was the plunder of Mitchell -Prell's laboratory on Mars--or most of it. The tanks were empty. -But on a table stood the larger microscope, as if what could be seen -through its eye-piece had been under examination. Perhaps the doll-like -shape, the other vats, the machine shop and that tiny electron -microscope were still there. And what lay at a still lower size level. -Across such a void of distance, Ed Dukas could not see such detail. But -he felt the mingling of hope and frustration. No path back to normal -circumstances was here, yet. And the time was certainly not ripe--if it -would ever come. Besides, did all of him really want to return, even if -part of him fairly ached for it? - -Carter Loman, or Ronald Payten, bent close to Les, his pronged helmet -and wide face, beyond the curve of plastic and radiation shielding, -like an ugly world in the sky. But if you had the mind to notice, -perhaps Loman's expression was almost gentle just then. His voice came -to Ed's senses as a subdued and modulated quake: "Lester! Wake up! I -didn't hit you that hard." - -Les seemed to have been lowered onto a couch of some kind. Perhaps -he had already regained consciousness moments ago and had since been -bent on quiet scrutiny of his surroundings, seeking out comprehension -and the core of his own feelings. Ed could guess at some of this: an -enigma revealed; Ronald Payten--creator of monsters; Les Payten's -pseudo-father. Then, for Les, horror, shame, fury. - -For Ed, the world seemed to rock as Les leaped. Les was not strong now -and was still in his convalescence. And maybe he had been wavering and -unsure, or even wrong in his past choices. But at this moment he was -not at all in doubt, though the attack he made could have been pure, -wild fright. - -"Father, indeed! I'll kill you--_Phony!_" he screamed. Then he was -grappling with Loman with all the strength that muscle and emotion -could muster. - -For that moment at least, he was Ed Dukas's ally, willing or otherwise. -For he held Loman's attention diverted. And because of Les's attack -Loman's neutronic aura remained turned off. - -Ed leaped and jetted, his tiny Midas Touch a scarcely visible spark as -it flamed. He landed on the fabric near the back of Loman's neck and at -the base of his helmet. Holding tight, Ed let his weapon flare again, -this time using it to blast a tiny hole. He braved the violent spurt -of energy from the dissolving rubberized fabric and then the moment of -exposure to radiation and heat as he crept through. Now he floated in -Loman's private atmosphere, within the great oxygen helmet, as Loman's -struggle with Les went on. - -Now was the time to test a plan: the speck-sized man against a being -of human dimensions--comparatively as huge as a mountain. And it was -android against android, advantage against advantage. - -Loman's lungs, active now to give breath to a chuckle of triumph, -breathed Ed in deeply. With his full equipment still lashed to his -shoulders, he tumbled down through moist and faintly ruddy gloom. When -the air currents quieted, he clung, a sharp splinter of obsidian rising -and falling in his hand, as he cut through soft tissue. - -Thus he reached a small artery and was borne along by the flow -within it. It was a world of warm, buried rivers. Dim, rosy light -sometimes found its way through the walls of flesh. Or was it, still -the radioactive glow that Loman's body, adapting to the shortage of -oxygen, had shown on Mars? But its physical structure, apart from its -substance, remained human: the disklike red blood corpuscles pumped -along in the gloom. - -Only wait now to be circulated to the right position. Ed knew when he -passed the great thumping valves and chambers of Loman's heart. But, -no, this was not the place for action. He could feel himself rising -now. Good! Was the darkness within the skull denser than elsewhere? -Ed forced his way into constantly narrowing channels. Around him he -still saw very dimly the living cells themselves. Here they had long, -interlocking filaments. They were the brain cells, beyond question. - -He dared not use his Midas Touch here. The fluid at its very muzzle -would have exploded. But he had grenades of much the same function. Set -the fuse of one and leave it lodged here. - -Before Ed was pumped back to the huge lungs, he felt the heavy -concussion. Then came the wild gyrations of the colossus. A spark of -atomic incandescence had exploded within its head, opening arteries to -hemorrhage and destroying surrounding tissue with heat and radiation. -A demoniac vitality of body might linger on, but a mind was dead. Had -total death come quickly, all movement ceasing, Ed might have had to -tunnel his way tediously from the gigantic corpse. - -But his luck held out. He reached the lungs, and a great burst of air -flung him forth into the oxygen helmet again. - -Loman's form still twitched on the floor. One enemy was erased from the -immediate future at least. Loman--or the pseudo Ronald Payten--had been -removed as an active force of history, but the fury he had helped stir -up was by now self-sustaining. Ed gave him a brief, almost rancorless -thought. A woman had lost her husband in the Moonblast. And he was -her memory re-created. She had had reason to hate science. And he had -been warped and marked by her view. He was a bitter product of his -times--impossible in the centuries that came before. Ed knew that he -himself--as he was now, certainly--was also the child of his era. His -uncle must always have been that. Babs--wherever she was now--was also -of these years. And his dad, and countless others. Maybe, therein you -had to find a tiny spark of tolerance for Loman, though not much. And -would anyone ever want to bring him back to life, even if the world -went on existing? - - - - -IX - - -Ed's score stood at two points gained--Loman out of the way and the -source of the monsters revealed. But these were small victories -compared with what must be gained if there was to be any hope. Masses -of human beings and androids faced each other, their emotions inflamed -to the point of final folly. And the end of one troublemaker and the -revelation of his tools were small items beside all that. - -Ed got out of Loman's oxygen helmet the way he had entered. Les Payten, -a dazed Atlas, was stumbling around. Ed felt cut off from his old -friend by a strange, great distance. But he could talk to him at least. - -Ed floated to the radio in a corner of the workshop, found his way -through a vent in its back, and touched a wire with the minute contact -points of a crude microphone as large as his hand. The infinitesimal -electric currents it bore were amplified and converted into sound. Ed's -voice came forth loud and clear: "Les! It's me--Ed Dukas. I'm here, -just as Prell came to me once. I'm an android just a few thousandths of -an inch tall. I'm inside the radio, Les. First, I want to know how you -feel about all this. Yes, I killed Loman." - -There were world tremors of footsteps approaching with slow caution. -A panel of the set was opened. The giant stared inside. Ed was now -sufficiently accustomed to the vibrations of human speech to interpret -the mood behind them. - -There was a brief, hard chuckle, controlled and distant and unfriendly. - -"Yes, Dukas, I'm quite sure it's as you say. It's odd, maybe, but I'm -not surprised at all. In our time, you have to accept too much. Thanks -for finishing Loman--not my father. Dad died on the lunar blowup, as -you know, a victim of technology or history, as we all will probably -soon be. I've told you before how I feel about everything. And what -has happened to me tonight can scarcely have made my view of the -androids any kinder. Once upon a time, in my callow youth, I thought -I belonged to this crazy period. How wrong can you get? You take your -strength and durability. I wonder what finer flavors of life you've -lost. So there's my standard, and I'll live and die by it, Dukas. It's -sad to lose a pal, but as you are, I guess you'll have to be an enemy. -It's like an instinct, Dukas." - -Les had spoken calmly and firmly. But Ed sensed the bitterness and -uncertainty that lurked beneath the words. - -"I won't argue, Les," he answered. "But when I'm thinking straight, the -truth to me is still as it was. In championing man above android, or -vice versa, you can only come to zero. Only in fair play between them -is there a chance. So, if the urge ever comes over you, you might still -do me a favor. Across this room is a microscope and attached equipment -that are vital to me and to Barbara, who is like me, somewhere. Guard -it, Les. No place that you could reach is perhaps truly safe for it. -But I was thinking that if you could gamble again--as we all must--you -might take it to Abel Freeman. I know that you were almost killed in -his camp, Les. But I believe that the old reprobate is fundamentally -sound and not as bitterly against such a device as some human beings -might be. Thanks if you consider it, Les." - -Still unseen by his one-time friend, Ed jetted to the vaulted ceiling -and escaped through a ventilator pipe that emerged among concealing -bushes. He rose above the trees, and a night wind pushed him on, while -he listened to the quartz chip he carried. His first impulse now was to -locate Tom Granger as his next candidate for silence. - -It was not necessary. The news was on the air: "Granger was stricken in -his quarters just before eight o'clock. The cause is not yet clear. He -had just begun to write his new speech: 'I am frightened. We are all -frightened. But this can change nothing of our purpose. In vitaplasm -we are confronted by a vampirish fact: an identity of face masking a -difference of spirit. A treachery. A slow, dreadful encroachment....'" - -Prell had gotten to Granger, then. If this was murder, maybe it was -justified--if Earth was one per cent less in danger with one exhorter -quieted, for a while if not forever. But what had been accomplished so -far was small beside the threat that had been stirred up in many minds -and machines across the countryside. - -The sky was heavy with thickening clouds. Weather Control, working -through its ionic towers had already been smashed. The night was -alternately a Stygian hole or a glare-lit holocaust full of battering -vibrations which might mean that real battle had already begun. So -far, only neutron streams were being used. Where a mountain peak was -hit there would be a blaze of light that even an android had better -not look at. Then another mountain, looming over a different fortified -line, would flare up and glow with moving lava. And the power that -energized the weapons was the same as that which could reach the stars. - -Rising high and jetting forward with his Midas Touch, Ed went to work. -He thought of Abel Freeman's camp, which lay somewhere beyond the -carpet of flaming woods which flanked one slope. But that was not his -immediate destination now. He had dived for a power station house in a -great trailer--and did it matter whether it belonged to the older race -or the newer? He took great risks getting into its busy vitals. The -constricting pressure of space warps, creating a gravity pressure of -billions of tons to the square inch, eased gradually. A marble-sized -bit of super-dense matter, crushed and compressed by the force and -hidden by its opaqueness, began to expand to meter-wide size and to -lose its blinding heat and fury as the processes within it stopped. -Soon the power plant, turning out a flood of electricity out of all -proportion to its small size, ceased to function. Scattered atoms of -hydrogen and lithium became inert. - -There was no easily visible cause for the breakdown, until puzzled -eyes found minute holes burned in vacuum tubes, allowing air to enter, -oxidizing grids and filaments and stopping their action. - -Two great weapons died, their energy cut off. But the power stations -themselves were the far greater threat, for they harbored that -sun-stuff within them. Now the controls of one, which some enraged -person might contrive to push too far in spite of the watchfulness of -others, were temporarily useless. - -Working both sides of the line, Ed sabotaged another energy source, and -another. Then he lost count, not because of a high score, but because -heat and radiation had fogged his mind somewhat. Yet he kept at his -labors because there was no other way. Within every square mile there -was enough potential power to end his planet. - -Around him, curses came vibrating from giants: "Men, eh? Jelly for -insides!..." "Stinking Phonies--Hell-born or Prell-born!... Jim, I -was wondering, this fizz-out looks fishy. Do you suppose the bastards -_have_ something?" - -The front had quieted. It could be that, as far as he had gone, Ed -had actually held the Earth together by spiking a few danger points. -But he could take no pride for himself out of this. The job could go -on and on, like a few buckets of water poured on a forest fire. It -helped briefly, yet if there had been a thousand like him, but truly -indestructible, the situation might still be without promise. The mass -of the populace was too enormous and scattered; the natural suspicion -and the forces which had stirred it up were too deep. The ghosts of -Loman and Granger still walked in memory and maybe now in martyrdom. -And the technology was still there. So Ed knew that, unless there was -another way, he could only go on attempting to lessen a threat, until -heat and radiation or its fulfillment zeroed him out. - -It took him over an hour to stop one power station because his demoniac -vitality was ebbing and because it had begun to rain heavily. The great -drops could not kill him, but like falling lakes, they could hammer -him into the mud, from which it might take days for him to extricate -himself. He waited in the shelter of a loose bit of bark on the trunk -of a tree. There he felt the helpless side of his smallness. - -As he waited, his mind rambled. Had several groups of weapons quit -without his noticing, or was this only something that he wished were -so? Where was Barbara now? Would he ever see her again?... Now he lost -himself in a fantasy. He saw them leaving Earth's atmosphere the way -they had come--she and he together; maybe finding beauty and peace -out there. Perhaps there were even tiny worlds--meteors--inhabited by -crystalline things such as they had once seen but advanced to a state -where they could think and build, and be friendly. - -And, almost wistfully, he thought of another idyl--his father's, and -even Granger's, among millions of others. He could almost see the crude -charm of the houses, the gardens and the flocks. But how did one erect -a wall against science--with science? It seemed harder to do than -diking the water out of the deepest ocean and trying to live in the -hole thus made. - -The rain ended. Ed was air-borne again. He caused one more power -station to break down. But there were others. And some that he had -spiked might already be repaired. And from his quartz chip he heard -other exhorting voices--not Granger's, but like Granger's. The old and -human traits that Granger had represented could go on without him, -fighting maturer thoughts as if in a drive toward suicide. Who could be -everywhere, to quiet such clamoring? - -In the darkness before dawn, Ed felt desperate and hopeless. His mind -was on Abel Freeman again--the memory man, somebody's cockeyed family -legend. It was an instinctive thing to seek out the strong for advice, -for discussion and perhaps for a joining of forces. - -Ed had only part of an energy cartridge left for his Midas Touch. But -this was more than enough to jet him across the mountains to the camp -of the quaint android chieftain with whom he must now admit a kinship -of flesh. Freeman was certainly a local leader now among those of -the same mark who had fled from the City, where the population was -predominantly of the old kind. Technicians, craftsmen, specialists of -every sort, would be among Freeman's following. - -Just as first daylight began, Ed drifted over the vast, hodge-podge -encampment hidden in the woods and the marshes. Part of the ground it -covered had been fused to hot, glassy consistency, perhaps by a small -aerial bomb. Maybe a hundred Phonies had died there--which fact added -nothing to the cause of peace. - -Abel Freeman himself was not too hard to find, for he occupied a -central, commanding position among various equipment housed in great -trailers carefully concealed from any observer in an aircraft. But -Abel Freeman, true to his legend, was sitting inside a rude shelter of -boughs, which effectively concealed the light of his ato lamp. Before -him was a sensipsych training device and a vast pile of books on many -subjects, ranging from military tactics to atomics, on which he was -obviously endeavoring to get caught up. He was savagely intent upon -book learning, for which he had little aptitude. But Ed, seeing him -in mountainous proportions, was perhaps better able than others to -understand why androids in need of leadership flocked to his stamping -grounds. Abel Freeman looked like the essence of rough and ready -ability. Among android leaders, he was certainly the greatest. - -Freeman had a small radio receiver beside him. Ed Dukas did not try to -read the meaning of its blaring vibrations, for he was aware of their -general tone. To him the instrument was chiefly a possible bridge of -communication between himself and Freeman. - -But Ed was not now given the chance to make such contact. For something -else happened. From the pages of an opened book in Abel Freeman's hands -coiled a thread of smoke, as charred words were written rapidly across -the paper. Ed was close enough in the air to read them, too: "_I am -Mitchell Prell, who helped make your kind possible. I am one of you -now--though undersize. Help keep the peace. Make no moves to start -trouble._" - -Ed himself was startled. His uncle was here, then! They had arrived at -almost the same time. And Prell had chosen a more dramatic means of -communication--not ink, not an amplified voice, but the spiderweb-thin -beam of his Midas Touch used as a long stylus, while he clung, perhaps, -to a hair on the back of Freeman's hand! - -For an instant, Abel Freeman was gripped by surprise. But then, with -rattlesnake-swift movement, his own Midas Touch was in his hand. His -whole self seemed to take on the smooth flow of perfect alertness which -nothing but an utterly refined machine could have equaled. - -"Prell or a liar?" he challenged. "Or Prell with a conscience--for his -own first people and against his brain children? Yes, I've heard how -little you might be now." - -Ed had only glimpsed his uncle far off among the scattered motes of the -air--another mote among them--a foot away he must be, at least. But Ed -hadn't waited for contact. Instead he darted quickly inside Freeman's -radio, touched the contacts of his microphone to the proper surface, -and spoke: "Maybe you'll remember me, too, Freeman. I'm Dukas, Prell's -nephew. You and I have talked before, man to man. Prell is no liar. And -the conscience is there--for everybody, android or otherwise. Yes, I'm -with him, the same size. And there's a problem, everybody's problem, -the toughest one that I've ever heard of. So where do we get any answer -that makes sense? Some of it has got to come quickly, I'm afraid, -Freeman." - -Amplified, Ed's voice had boomed out till it was like an earthquake -to him. Once again a plastic box was opened above him and a gigantic -face was overhead. In the tinkling overtones of smallness, there was -almost a silence for a moment. Then came the rattle of Freeman's hard, -amused laugh, as he said, "I'll be damned! Smaller than snuff and made -the cheap way. People. Something better. Yep, it must be so, even if -I can't even see you. That puts us way ahead, I guess. And it ain't a -whisky vision. Well, I guess it still don't make any difference. The -old-time kind of folks hate us, and they'll never stop while both of us -and them are alive. And us Phonies have been crowded all we can take. -They've fired on us here, just barely trying to miss. Could be we've -done the same to them. It's a mighty ticklish proposition. In winktime -they could finish us all here, nice and clean and no grease left. So -could we burn them quicker than gunpowder. So who gets trigger crazy -and does it first? We've fixed them: an answer, under the ground. Maybe -they can spoil our other weapons, like it seems they can, but not this -one. It's buried deep enough. Let 'em try to hit us hard, and it'll -set everything off. Your old Moonblast will be beat a thousand times. -Us Phonies are bullheaded. We were made on Earth, same as them. It's -ours as much as theirs. We came alive, and we can fade out again, young -fella!" - -The vibrations of Freeman's tones rose and fell, with humor, fatalism -and stubbornness. Two races, one born of the knowledge originated by -the other, seemed to have driven each other into corners of no return. -At some indefinite instant, the Big Zero would come. - -Ed saw this garish picture more clearly than ever before. His strange -little body fairly quivered with it. He looked at Mitchell Prell, who -had come beside him now, where the pieces of apparatus that made up the -interior of a small receiving set loomed, and he saw in his face the -puzzled, tired fear of a scientist whose researches had always aimed at -doing good. Just then Ed Dukas, micro-android, was far from separated -from the Big Earth as he used to know it. So now, in desperation, he -clutched at a vision which had once seemed almost a fact. - -"Freeman," he said, "maybe men can't back down or co-operate with -supermen. Doing that can seem like embracing extinction. But hasn't -there always been an obvious thing for _us_ to do?" - -"Umhm-m--you mean _we_ should back down," Freeman replied softly. -"Set out for the wide-open spaces that we were meant for. Leave the -poor clodhoppers behind. Young fella, could be that you and me see -things bigger. For others like us, it ought to be like that, only it -ain't--yet. Most of the new people are butcher, baker and candlestick -maker, Earth-born, and Earth-tied in their minds, like anybody. There's -a ship, sure. But the stars are still awful far off, and never touched, -and you can go addled just thinkin' about them. Lots of our sort would -leave in their own sweet time, same as regular folks, sure. It's in -their blood. You might say they got wings. But who really knows how to -use 'em yet? And crowd our kinfolks off their home world? When they're -spunky and sore like any human being? Nope. Sorry!" - -Ed's faint hope faded before the old android's realism. For years the -movement of migration had been farther and farther outward into space. -It was at once a fact, a dream and a philosophy, like getting nearer -to the Eternal Unknown. But most of the worth-while solar system was -already owned by the original dominant species. Beyond was only the -distance, not a beaten path at all, an untried and fearsome novelty. -One star ship was about completed, yes. Fast it would be, but its speed -would still fall far short of the velocity of light. So the nearer -stars were decades, centuries, millenniums away. - -An idea so familiar that it seems almost an accomplished fact can -lose some of its charm in the hard glare of real obstacles. Ed felt -something like a chill inside him. Though he knew the strangeness of a -micro-cosmic viewpoint, others did not have this training and boldness -for the unknown. He saw the majority of them balking fatally. But he -still had to try _something_, to change as much of this as he could--if -he could change any of it at all. - -"I don't know whether or not to blame you and the others for the -revenge you say is rigged here and elsewhere, Freeman," he said. "I can -see why both sides felt driven to do it. But I'm going to borrow your -newscast facilities, Freeman. Or someone else's. Because rumor can be a -powerful force. And I think I can give it a little push." - -Mitchell Prell was still beside him. His grin was encouraging and sly. -"Best of luck in what you intend, Eddie," he remarked. "Need a charge -for your Midas Touch?... Meanwhile, I might try drawing the teeth -of some dragons, as you seem to have been doing. Got to be careful, -though, that both sides don't blame each other and get nervous. -Granger, poor knothead, was easy. I hope that somehow circumstances -will be right so that he can come back and learn. About Loman and the -things he made, I can feel differently." - -"You heard?" Ed asked. - -"It was on the air," Prell replied. "Somebody phoned the news in from -near that lab. At least the overwise ones will know that they guessed -wrong about which faction contrived a biological horror: a rabid -old-race sympathizer, but an android, too! Can that make either side -proud?" - - * * * * * - -A minute later Ed landed on the roof of the trailer which housed -Freeman's wireless equipment. He crept past an immense drop of rain -water that loomed like a rounded mesa beside him and entered a vent. -Soon he touched the terminals of his microphone to the proper contacts. -The transmitter was active. During the first pause between the temblors -of other words and signals and coded information, Ed spoke quickly, -half like a mischievous sprite. "This is no ghost voice. We hear that -many androids want to take all of their kind beyond the solar system." - -The station did not stop sending at once. Blame that on the startled -monitor, who must have been listening. Ed took advantage of his -opportunity. He was granted another moment to speak: "It is only -natural that they should want to do that. Their kind of vigor matches -the stars. They don't need, or really want, the Earth. Their departure -in peace could be a perfect answer to everything." - -That much Ed got out before the transmitter clicked to silence. He knew -he hadn't said anything original and that he had pushed an argument -intensely, like a high-pressure salesman without full belief. What he -had said was the way things should be, perhaps, but were not. Yet, -again, like a romantic kid, had he felt the glamorous impact of his own -words? - -He was aware that androids would hear and millions of the old -race--intent on communications from an enemy station--as well. A -mysterious, informal voice was always a thing to draw attention, and -his remarks had been rather startling. That they would be repeated and -discussed a thousand times from other stations was probable. For they -were like a chink of hope in one of two granite walls of obstinate -righteousness and strength. - -But Ed decided that he'd build no bright pictures of what his speech -would accomplish but would wait for hard facts. He wished desperately -that he'd had a moment more to speak on the transmitter, to call out -Barbara's name. - -Now he drifted again in a morning sunshine. Luck had held out this -far at least. But over woods and crude shelters and hidden equipment -and grimy grim-faced hordes that looked as human as refugees could, -there were interruptions that denied optimism. A patrolling rocket -ship sailed high; an intensified neutron beam turned a finger of air -white hot behind it--very close. And mountaintops, already truncated -and smoking, still would flare up dazzlingly. Android muscles and backs -strained and bent to build fortifications as nothing merely human -could. The toilers were both men and women. Could android children cry? -Yes, some did. - -Another thing happened. Ed, floating unseen low in the air, felt the -buzz of shouts and cries. A man who seemed to be near collapse was -being helped forward by a youth whose sidearms dangled near the knees -of his torn dungarees. At a little distance, where size seemed more -as it used to be, Ed saw that the exhausted man was Les Payten. He was -mud from head to foot; his face and arms were bloodied by brambles, his -suit was a rag. - -He was brought straight to Abel Freeman's shelter. There, supported by -the armed youth, he spoke his piece: "I'm here again, Freeman, because -a friend of mine asked me to bring you something for him. Does that -make me a fool? I know it does. Because he's only my remembrance of a -friend now. Damn you all!" - -Les Payten fainted. A package wrapped in a plastic sheath fell from -his hands, but Abel Freeman caught it. A couple of Abel's ornery sons -looked on, exchanging puzzled scowls. Freeman warned them away with a -clenched fist, knotty as an oaken club, and then shouted, "Nancy! Oh, -Nancy-y-y!" But there was no time for Ed to observe Freeman's hellion -daughter functioning as a nurse. He went inside Freeman's radio again, -and spoke, "Freeman, this is Dukas. I came to you to give and receive -help. That means that I've tried to guess right about you. I believe I -have. When your neo-biologists examine what Payten has brought, they -will be able to guess its value to me and mine. And I think that they -will be able to combine its uses with those of their own equipment for -something I'd like to see done. But there are other matters. Some of -your power plants broke down, but so did others across the line. I did -most of that. Prell must be doing more of it right now. What I said -over your wireless was meant to gain a little time." - -Ed paused. Freeman did not open the radio case again. Ed couldn't see -him. He could only feel small thuds and clinkings--the android leader -opening the package that Les Payten had brought. Ed wondered if he -could ever imagine what was going on in Freeman's head, the thousand -problems and feelings that must be seething there. - -Freeman might be no good at book learning. And his roots were in a -century when even a flying machine was a wild thought. But he had to -be shrewd to match the legend behind him. And he had to take tough -situations with a light shrug for the same reason. - -Finally Ed felt the rumble of his chuckle. "You mean I'm one of your -'reasonable' variety," he said. "Meantime you smash my stuff, eh, -little bug in the air! I ought to get damn unreasonable! You might even -finish me off! I'm kind of curious about that! But I don't think you -have to bother. I know that the old-time folks are moving lots more -hell machines up. And they're awful mad, because we got quite a few of -them in one place last night--sort of by miscalculation. What's this -talk about us androids matching the stars? Well, young fella, go 'head -and talk some more. Yep, on our wireless rig. What's left to lose? And -I'm still curious." - -On the way to the radio trailer, Ed looked back to the ugly, humping -shapes of weapons creeping up a high, blackened slope a few miles away. -This was fresh action by men of the old kind who had lost friends -or family and who saw no future in a demoniac succession. They were -exposed, an easy target. But if they were destroyed, others would -come. So they dared and defied, and the vicious spiral toward Big Zero -continued to mount. - -Ed tried to forget this for a moment. His first words by wireless were -a call for his wife: "Babs, this is Ed, at Freeman's camp! Barbara, -come to us if you can. At least, try to communicate with us. You know -how. Barbara!..." - -She had her own quartz chip, active all the time, so she must hear! And -if she did, she could send a message just as he did, from some other -station. But though Ed now had help, at Freeman's orders, no reply -from his wife was sifted from the countless communications that were -received. - -But his previous attempt to spread a rumor had brought some expected -results. The morning air was full of conflicting comments: "... A cruel -joke ... Psychological warfare ... Perhaps, but what if the Phonies -mean to leave? Some already deny it.... Who spoke? Let him speak -again." - -Ed was glad to oblige, even revealing his name, his present dimensions -and how a being of such size, equipped with a Midas Touch, might wreck -a power station. He explained this last item because he did not want a -misplaced blame to stir up more tension on both sides. Otherwise, he -addressed himself mostly to the androids, aware that the old race would -listen, too. - -"... We were made on Earth, but not _for_ Earth. We were meant to go -much farther. Since we have so much, to be other than generous would be -stupid. We have peace and the future, and most of what man ever hoped -for, in our hands. That, or oblivion for everyone." - -Though the ominous movement on the burned-out slope continued, the -actual flash of weapons seemed suspended. The quiet was either -promising or it was ominous. - -He was lulled into enough confidence so that at noon he took a break. -He went back to Freeman's shelter and into the tiniest workshop that -Mitchell Prell had made and that Les Payten had rescued. He dropped -from the air beside minute machines and the vats that had given Barbara -and him their micro-android forms on Mars. - -The whole piece--the greater microscope together with all the much -lesser equipment--Abel Freeman had unwrapped hastily, so that entry -into the twilight within the plastic cover had been easy. Freeman -himself was not around. - -For a moment Ed felt alone and wistful, clinging to the rough glass -floor of the shop. But then he saw a faintly luminous elfin figure. - -"Barbara!" he exclaimed. - -Her laughter tinkled. "Think I wasn't come back, Eddie?" she teased. -"That I couldn't share any interest in what happens to a big world?" -Her blitheness almost angered him. Her expression sobered at once, and -he saw that she looked worn. "I know," she said. "It's not funny. We -might have burned up with the Earth--far apart. But I kept busy. I -tried to call you yesterday from a station in the City. But I wasn't -sure I touched the proper contacts. And last night I had to be a good -saboteur. I got three weapon-feeding power houses--though I guess that -the fine equipment could be shielded against us easily enough. Later, -I was lost--high up in the wind. With you along, it could have been -wonderful. Of course, I heard news broadcasts. About Loman's lab. And -from Freeman's station, a report of how Les arrived with a strange -device. This morning I heard your call, but there was no way to answer. -Eddie, Freeman's experts could copy us in normal size quite easily and -quickly, couldn't they? And in better vitaplasm. The methods have been -improved. Our personal recordings, perhaps lost, wouldn't be needed. -Should we try to have it done? Then there'd be two of each of us, in -different sizes. Two...." - -Ed chuckled. "Not a word about returning to the old flesh, eh?" he -said. "So have we learned? Android freedom to go anywhere, to be almost -anything. Yep, magic almost. I think you'd rather perch on thistledown -or a sunset cloud, or be pushed by light pressure, like sleeping -spores, to a thousand light-years away! Well, it _could_ still happen. -Part of us has been changed enough by things like that to belong there. -But the older part seems much like it was and belongs to the size plane -that we first knew about." - -They hugged each other and laughed. And they were reassured by the -comparative calm around them. But the forces were still there, only -awaiting someone's ultimate madness. And what can a world's end be -like, coming in a split instant, to one's dissolving senses? Certainly -it must be a quick, almost trivial experience. - -Ed became aware of a bluish flicker. Then there was something like an -awful thud; he could scarcely tell whether a crash of sound took part -in it or not. Around him everything was dazzling whiteness, without -shadow or form. Then there was nothing. - - - - -X - - -Consciousness came back to him, bringing a cloudy surprise. Rough rocky -walls were around him. This was an artificial cavern crowded with -neo-biological equipment, most of which he could recognize. He lay -firmly on a hard couch contrived of planks and a folded blanket, part -of the latter covering him. A pair of dungarees and a mended shirt had -been tossed casually across his bare torso. - -Someone who looked like a young medico laughed near him. - -"One week's time, Dukas--that's all we need now for a major -transformation," he said. "You must have thought that we were all -goners; it would have seemed like that to you. But it was just a freak -attempt at sniping from the hills, with a Midas Touch focused to a thin -beam. Whoever tried it must have been aiming at our chief's shelter. -Only he wasn't there! Still down in miniature, you were caught in the -backlash of the blast. But it only knocked you out and singed you a -little. You kept holding onto some solid object. Your wife and the -equipment were scarcely hurt at all. Then Prell showed up again. They -talked with our chief the way you did before. They engineered the -transformation. I thought you'd want to know all this quickly." - -The youthful android looked good-humoredly awed. "They just stepped -out," he added. "They'll be back in a minute." - -Ed began to slide into his dungarees. He was grateful for his return -to something like what he had been. His memories of an interlude when -people were mountain tall were clear, yet they didn't seem quite to -belong to himself. - -He thought briefly of how he must have been brought back to normal -size--his micro-form in one of the vats of similar proportions acting -as a pattern, electronic brain and all. In another vat, which Freeman's -specialists had connected, the gelatins must have filmed and solidified -slowly, taking shape, while in brain cells and filaments--different -from electronic swirls but capable of assuming the same connecting -arrangements--a personality was reproduced without destroying the -pattern. With Barbara and Prell it had been the same. - -"The world goes on, I see," Ed remarked. - -The android biologist smiled wryly. "Some of that is your fault, -Dukas," he said. "A matter of advertising. You made enough old-timers -half believe that the Earth will go on being theirs. That cooled them -off some. As for our kind, what you said started lots of them thinking -again along what ought to be a natural track. Certainly the prompt -departure of almost all of us is the only answer that can _really_ -solve anything. Yes, if that isn't far too large an order! Though I -rather wish it _were_ possible.... Here come Prell and your lady. I'll -disappear." - -They looked almost as they used to look--before anything about them -was changed. Blame the loss of some trifling birthmark or scar here -and there on the simplification of details that had occurred during a -step down to smallness. Yet Mitchell Prell's china-blue eyes were as -good-humored as ever and Barbara's smile as bright and warm. - -"So here we are, Eddie," she said gaily. "And what we recently were -are still around somewhere--alive and aware, and the same as we were, -though not quite us any more. Separate, but still helping, I'm sure. -And if we all get through all right, well, their universe is as -wonderful and even vaster than ours." - -Prell scowled for a moment, as if he envied his lesser likeness the -continued chance to study the structure of matter, down where molecules -themselves seemed bigger and nearer. But then his shoulders jerked -almost angrily, as if to shake off the scientist's woolgathering. "Come -on, Ed," he snapped. "Abel Freeman has been pushing the idea you -expressed, talking it around the world to all the androids. He says -that, crazy though it is, he'll encourage it." - -They emerged from the cavern into the afternoon sunshine of the camp. -A sudden quiet had come over it. Eyes were staring up toward the east, -while bodies tensed for a dive for whatever shelter was at hand. -Something moved there with seeming slowness, though its gray hue, like -a distant mountain peak, told that it was seen through all the murky -heights of the atmosphere and was in free space beyond. Its motors -were inactive. High sunshine brought metallic glints from its prow. -It was certainly miles in length. Its presence could mean doomsday. -But it _was_ magnificent! If it could set human blood to coursing more -swiftly, how must it affect an android? - -"The star ship!" someone shouted. Others took up the cry: "The star -ship.... The star ship...." - -Now Abel Freeman's voice boomed from a sound system: "Yep, you're -right. I sent a call for it to come in from the asteroids. Figured it -would be good for all our tough-gutted breed to look at! Uh-huh, tough -gutted, I said, but might be I'll have to take that back. Anyhow, a man -made for a mule loves a mule on sight. So how about men and a ship made -for the stars? But might be you ain't that kind of folks--you only seem -that way. Might be you can only see the mud on the ground and not the -sky. I dunno. Moving all of us fast would take an awful lot of insides. -But ain't she a beauty? I figure that the folks that brought her here -didn't like to disobey orders, but they figured that letting us see -was necessary. Maybe they're Phonies, too. I figure that Harwell, who -bossed her construction, would be that now. Her kind of purpose demands -it. But maybe you ain't up to what she's for. And you folks of the old -kind, what do you say? What if we did leave you alone on Earth? What if -you gave us this first star ship and let us build more, out on a moon -of Saturn where you don't go much? Let's hear some answers!" - -Obviously, Abel Freeman's words were also being broadcast. Meanwhile -the star ship glided into the sunset. Someone spoke briefly from her by -radio. Harwell? - -"I hope you convince everybody, Freeman. I believe it does make sense. -Not a cinch, though, even for us." - -That, too, came out of the address system, as the ship headed back -toward its base. - -In his newer self, here on Earth, Ed breathed again, and his breathing -was rapid. Once more the unseen future was a thrill. Yet he must not -let glamour gild harsh uncertainties too much. - -He looked at the faces around him. Some were stern, some grinned in -bravado under Abel Freeman's challenging sarcasm, but in most of -them there was a special, eager light, almost avid. It looked as if -Freeman's talk and the great craft that had come with it were turning -the trick. But these were trivial dramatics, too. The real source of -success--if it was that--was in a basic kinship of android vigor with -the stars. Awakened, it could relinquish the Earth without regret. -These people could feel a little like lesser gods now. Their strength -and endurance matched the next step of progress. Now the fantastic gulf -of distance didn't seem as wide as Freeman had once thought. - -From scattered android camps, messages came in, pointing generally -toward deeper space. Yes, doubts were expressed. - -"Shall we leave our homes without even an argument? Are we complete -fools?" - -"Yes, fools if we don't leave. We _can_ make a mass departure. And -remember that this is the _only_ solution. Are they still too primitive -for us to live with? The same fault might be ours. I wonder what they -will say to our proposition?" - -Communications also flashed back and forth among the old race: - -"... They look like us but aren't. Their disguise and their powers -hold a warning. No wonder so many of us think of them as something -like medieval demons. Can we trust what they say? Or is it a trick to -disarm us? How can we know? Yet they intrigue us. Man has always sought -to borrow strength and permanence from the rocks and hills. Are they -that achievement? And we ourselves have wanted the stars." - -Crouched over the small receiver in Freeman's restored shelter during -that still-ominous afternoon, Ed and Barbara listened and waited. -Around them they found both humor and pathos. In another shelter, dug -into the rocks and soil, they located Les Payten, whose misfortunes -with the Phonies had been many. His bitter frankness had won him -dislike here. He had been put under restraint. There was the bearish -tenderness and nursing of the gorgeous and powerful Nancy, Freeman's -daughter, who stood beside him now, her big blue eyes expressing a -mixture of soulful devotion and hunger about as rapacious as that of -a starved hound-dog six inches from a fat rabbit. Les didn't seem -to appreciate it at all. But he still tried to be a friend to his -companions of a lost youth. "Babs! Ed!" he exclaimed at sight of them. -"So you got back--to size, anyhow! But you could go back to where you -began, as natural creatures! Damn, once we were young idiots, dazzled -by a sense of wonder into too much tolerance. I don't want to be -something synthetic! Can't you two realize the fundamental truth of -that--for yourselves? Good Glory! Wake up!" - -Ed's grin was one-sided. "For one thing, I suspect that going back all -the way wouldn't quite work, Les," he said mildly. "We are what we are -now, that's all. There's a cloudy sort of limit on switching bodies. -There can never truly be two of anyone. Besides, we like being what we -are. And should I remind you that, in common with all animals, man is -a natural machine? As for being synthetic, I assure you that both love -and poetry are there as well. So what do you imagine that we lack that -the old timers always had? A taste for turkey or cake? Just lead us to -it! We're human, Les--our forms and ideals and feelings are as they -always were. We're not devils. We're not truly separated from the old -race in any part of sympathy. We're just people gone on--I hope!--a -little further." - -Ed spoke gently, as he must to a tired, confused friend. Or was it to -a whole, vast section of humanity, dumfounded by hurtling technology, -proud and stubborn about what had seemed its eternal self, and dreading -any change which could seem so darkly drastic? - -Barbara tried, too. "Why don't _you_ join _us_, Les?" she urged. "If -you became like us, you would know! Besides, even if all the androids -leave the Earth, the knowledge of how to mold vitaplasm won't be taken -away with us. People here will continue to be destroyed in accidents, -as has always happened. So that knowledge will be needed and used. -Besides, some persons will change willingly. Some people may want to -shut themselves away from such realities. But I don't think that they -can. They'll have to learn to accept facts." - -Les Payten looked at his old companions oddly, as if tempted by an old -soaring of the fancy. Then the light died in his eyes. "Nice logic," -he said coldly. "I could almost trust it if I didn't remind myself. A -mechanical treachery. My Ed Dukas and Barbara Day are dead." - -His tone was calm, yet there was a quiver in it--perhaps of revulsion -for these imponderable likenesses before him, whose hearts he thought -he could not--or did not--want to see. - -Ed was exasperated before a stubbornness of thought habit which was -partly fear, though Les Payten was no coward. Some human minds were -quick to adjust, taking even the radical newness of the last half -century in their stride. But there had always been many others who were -slow. Perhaps it was a childish taint, a resisting of maturity. And how -could they keep pace now? But right there, Ed had to remind himself not -to be too sure of himself. The next day or minute might trip him up. - -There seemed no further way to argue with Les. Ed could only express -his sincere thanks for a favor, offer good wishes, and shrug lightly -and in some mockery, for one who refused what seemed a simple truth. If -that shrug was superficially unkind, perhaps it was also a goad in the -right direction. A favor to a pal. - -An hour later, when Ed told Freeman of Les Payten's reactions, the -colorful android leader had a similar comment: "There's maybe billions -like that--one reason why we got to leave. They'll change. But right -now, who cares to take the ornery kid brothers fishing? Give 'em time -to grow up a little more, first. It won't be so long. Just now we got -our own problems and jobs. They ain't small, and nothing's certain. -There's no hole to jump into that's as deep as deep space! I thought -once that it couldn't happen. But now it looks as if we're gonna get -the chance to try!" - -Abel Freeman was right. That evening a message came from the World -Capital: "Let us meet and confer with android representatives and -earnestly apply ourselves to a binding solution." - -That was the beginning. It seemed that reason had won out after all. -Freeman and Prell were flown to the Capital. Ed did not go, for he -foresaw a bleak conference with the single purpose of getting an -arrangement made as soon as possible. This proved to be true. To the -androids went the first star ship, its asteroid base, provisions to be -delivered regularly over a ten-year period, supplies and equipment of -all kinds, and the use of Titan, largest of distant Saturn's moons. - -To the vast majority of the androids this was enough. To the few -grumblers there would be scant choice. Let them view themselves as -exiles, borne along by the eager mass of their kind. - -When Freeman and Prell returned to camp after the signing of the -treaty, Les Payten had already left for the City. For a while Nancy -Freeman would look wistful. She was strong and beautiful, and perhaps -not as wild as her personal legend. Briefly, Mitchell Prell's eyes -rested on her. Then he chuckled. - -"Sirius," he said. "Nine light-years away. Not the nearest star, and -not perfect. But the best bet of the nearest. Alpha Centauri is a -binary, too. Bad for stable planetary orbits. But in the Sirian System, -at least we know now that there _are_ many planets. Come on, Freeman. -There are more plans to straighten out." - -Preparations began, and the weeks passed. Once Ed even went shopping -with his wife--for the pretty things, symbols of the luxury and -sophistication of Earth, that she wanted to take with her into the -unknown. Was that the crassest kind of optimism before the harshness -that could be imagined? - -Ed, Barbara and Prell would be among the many thousands to be packed -into the first star ship for the first long jump. They had earned the -privilege of choice. Abel Freeman had elected to stay behind, to help -direct operations on Titan. - -Interplanetary craft were moving out in a steady stream, transporting -migrants and the prefabricated parts needed to set up a vast glassed-in -camp that few of the old blood could ever have tried to build. The -androids might even have endured the cold poison of Titan's methane -atmosphere without protection. But they had inherited, and could not -easily throw off, earthly conceptions of comfort. And they had their -rights. The countless things needed to build other star ships would -soon begin to follow them. - -The first group of interstellar migrants didn't have to go anywhere -near Titan. The star ship came to Earth again, to orbit around it. -Small rocket tenders were there to bring the passengers up to the -boarding locks. - -At the take-off platforms, Ed Dukas saw his parents for the last time. -Jack Dukas, who had chosen to remain on Earth with his wife, shook Ed's -hand warmly. Let them try their simple life of thatched stone houses -on hillsides, Ed thought, let them defy what seemed a too involved -civilization. Perhaps after the android exodus, some few would even -make it work--on Venus, if not at home. - -Ed hugged his mother. They had memories. Now Ed stretched optimism -considerably. "At last there can be a lot of time, Mom," he said. -"Enough so that we might even see each other again, someplace...." - -Soon he and Barbara were up there in the great ship. To his touch, her -arm was as smooth and soft as ever. Her hair was dark and thick, her -eyes were bright with adventure, her skin a golden tan. And was it a -loss that she could have bent crowbar with her bare hands, or have -braved a vacuum at near absolute-zero temperature without harm? - -"You're insulting me in your mind, Ed," she joshed gaily. "Not that I'm -much bothered. So the robot stoops to conquer, eh? Of course we have no -souls, Eddie." - -"Certainly not!" he responded in the same manner. "All our hopes spring -from human sources. Even our firmer flesh was a human dream. Yet you -can practically hear our mechanical joints creak. The old race was -created perfect. Who could ever dare to make it any better?" - -Ed's sarcasm was honest. Yet he knew that before the unprobed distance, -even the ruggedest of his kind were disposed to do a little whistling -in the dark. - -Around them in the ship's huge assembly room, there were shouts, -greetings, jokes and laughter. A young couple chatted brightly. A child -studied a toy with serious petulance. A man consulted a notebook. -Perhaps few here yet realized their range, power and freedom or just -what they faced. Their environment had been narrow, like all earthly -history. No doubt many were afraid of the strangeness and time and -distance ahead. They had reason to be. Out there in the black pit of -the galaxy, even giant stars could perish. - -Mitchell Prell had not yet come aboard. Abel Freeman had already left -for Titan--without his willful daughter. Schaeffer, the scientist, had -gone with him. - -Under Harwell's commands, the colossal craft kept taking on migrants -at top speed for thirty hours. They boarded in numbers out of all -proportion to the available living space. Meanwhile there were needles -to submit to. Vitaplasm could be more rugged and adaptable now than -when it was first used. The fluids from hollow needles were the means -of imparting the improvements. - -At last the ship quivered slightly. In contact with the heat of fusion -of hydrogen and lithium to form the gaseous stellar ash called helium, -any material rocket chamber would have been scattered instantly -as incandescent vapor. But space warps stood firm in their place, -squeezing with an atom-crushing pressure of their own, natural only -at the centers of stars. And now there was no secondary arrangement -for the conversion of such power as was released into electricity. -Even the helium became pure radiation that emerged in a stream. It -was a continuous, directed explosion of light, far stronger within -its narrow limits than the outburst of a supernova. It had been known -for centuries that light had both mass and pressure, and here it -was concentrated matter--the ultimate in propulsive thrust--changed -completely to energy. On the sullen Earth, neither man nor android -dared watch that thin thread of fury, while slowly the ship began to -accelerate toward a five-figure number of miles per second. - -It was the start of the departure of fear from an ancient race. Or so -it was meant to be. From Earth, curses no doubt followed the ship--and -sighs of relief, and regrets, and good wishes. This setting forth -should have been a human triumph. Many would insist that it was not -that. Others knew that it was. - -Braced in a cubicle two meters long, one wide and half a meter high, Ed -Dukas held his wife's hand. Tiered rows of other cubicles were around -them. Mitchell Prell had been with them minutes ago, and he had simply -said, "Good night," half jokingly. Or was it more whistling in the dark? - -"Just good night. That's how it'll be, sweet," Ed whispered now. "The -years won't mean anything. In the old mythology, the demigods could -sleep for a millennium." - -So the small spark of dread flickered out in them, as they invoked a -power which they had used before, in smaller android bodies, and for a -much shorter interval. No drug was needed. Their sleep became suspended -animation. - -Fine dust began to settle on them. But after forty years, measured by -the ship's chronometers--on the basis of a retarded time imparted to -objects moving at high velocity, a somewhat longer interval must have -passed on Earth--Ed was awakened to help patrol the vessel. - -With a few other silent men, he moved through its ghostly, dimly -lighted corridors and compartments inhabited by the living dead. The -stillness was all around, and outside only the stars burned in the -void. The decades had been like the passing of a night of sleep; -yet now awake, Ed was aware that the time had gone, building up an -unimaginable distance. Here was the abyss. It was a cold awareness -which made him neither confident nor happy. Sometimes he looked down at -Barbara's quiet face, but he did not wish her to awaken now. - -Ahead was Sirius, brighter than before. Beside it, visible at least -to the unaided eye, was the dim speck of its companion star, a white -dwarf, shrunken and old, little larger than the Earth, but incredibly -massive, the very atoms at its core compressed by its fearsome gravity -and the weight of material above them. This dwarf's internal substance, -largely pure nuclear matter, would have weighed tons per cubic inch. - -Instruments, brought nearer to a destination, now showed more clearly, -by the irregularities in the movements of this binary system, the -existence of planets pursuing changing paths in the complicated cross -drags of two stellar bodies revolving around a common center. Those -worlds, known of on Earth for a quarter century, were still out of -telescopic view. Their seasons must be crazy--hot, cold, uncertain. -Yet other, nearer star systems had the same, and worse, drawbacks. And -Sirius was relatively near, too. Besides, need an android worry about -the fluctuations of mad climates so much? - -After a month, Ed Dukas relinquished his duties to others who were -aroused briefly. He slept again, for more decades, and on through the -first contact with a Sirian world. His mind still slightly blurred, he -came down in a tender from the orbiting star ship, after others had -landed. Barbara was with him. Somewhere far ahead, among hills rapidly -shedding their glacial coat under hot sunshine, was Mitchell Prell. - -The sunshine came from Sirius itself, farther away than the distance -from Earth to Uranus; hence its size and brilliance were counteracted. -Yet this world did not attend Sirius directly. It belonged to -the white-hot speck at zenith--the dwarf with an almost equal -attraction--tiny, but much closer. The planet hurried like a moon -around this miniature sun. - -Ed looked up at thin fish-scale clouds that were rose-tinted. Before -him was a prairie covered with waving stalks bearing white plumes. -Might you call them flowers blown by the wind? - -High up among the melting ice he saw a tower and maybe a roadway. -Later he beheld two shapes, brown and rough, with four tapered, -flexible limbs radiating from a central lump. Man, with his arms and -legs, also has vaguely the form of a cross. But these were different, -though sometimes they almost walked, and metal devices glinted in the -equipment they wore. Had he dreamed all this somewhere years ago?... -Sometimes they rolled quickly like wheels, or they crept along, their -limbs coiling. Once they flew, with bright flashes and without wings. -But that was artificial. They moved off at last beside a shallow, -salt-rimmed sea. - -"We can't stay here, Eddie," Barbara stated. "It could be fascinating, -but it would be worse than on Earth." - -"As everyone will realize," Ed Dukas answered. - -So the explorers came back to the tender. Nearer to the dwarf sun they -found a world with a more stable orbit and less extremes of cold and -heat. If it was nearer the dwarf with its almost negligible radiance, -it also did not approach as close to Sirius, nor swing so far away. It -was a chilly little planet that had once been inhabited, too; but now -there were only shattered stone and glass and rusted steel. Much of it -was desert. But there were forests here and there, and high glaciers. - -High on a clifftop in the thin, cold atmosphere, the refugees built -their first city. It began with houses of rough logs and stone. But as -time passed and the population increased, its metal-sheathed towers -began to soar. In its glassed-in gardens, terrestrial flowers and trees -thrived, while out of doors beautiful plants of a neo-biology easily -surpassed in vigor the hardy local growths. There were theaters, stores -and libraries. There was feminine fashion. Thus, nostalgically, an old -earthly way was copied, though Earth was lost. There was no method to -speak across the light-years. Earth might even belong to a somewhat -different branch of time. But all this did not include the major point -of separation. That was expressed in the way these people climbed the -highest mountains without tiring and let the hoarfrost of fearsome cold -gather on their bare faces without discomfort. - -Sometimes, on blizzard nights, while they took the sleep that they did -not need for more than the pleasure of it, Barbara and Ed would leave -the windows open to the storm. - -"Roofs, buildings--why do we even bother with them?" Ed would say -jokingly. - -His wife would look at him somewhat worriedly, as if he meant it. As -if here there were a bitter strangeness that lowered all earthly art -and charm and comfort and sense of home to a futility. But then she'd -manage to laugh lightly, though often she didn't quite feel that way. -"You know why we bother, Ed," she'd answer. "Because we want to stay -somewhat as we once were. Didn't you always agree to that? Because it's -hard to change old habits and limitations, and grasp the freedom you're -thinking about, Eddie. Sometimes I even suspect that we try to hide -from that freedom." - -Ed would scowl, feeling all of these thoughts, too. They had all the -freedom that men had envisioned long ago: practical freedom from death, -except from extreme violence; freedom from aging, freedom of mind, -of action, of shape and size; the freedom of peace and plenty, and -boundless energy. But beyond all this, like a goad, there often was, -already, much more than a ghost of that ancient human restlessness that -always had thrived on strength. - -"Are you happy here, Babs?" Ed asked once when there had been time to -doubt. - -By then they already had two young sons, born of new flesh in an old -way. - -"Of course--reasonably," she chuckled. "Though I have my moods. Then I -don't quite know.... But, Eddie, this is the great, marvelous future, -isn't it--the one we looked forward to with longing and wonder? We -ought to appreciate it completely." - -"It is that future. But now, sweetheart, it's also just the present." - -There were incidents to match such restless talk and thinking. There -was Mitchell Prell, always groping for new things, shouting down from a -cragtop, or from his laboratory, "Hey, Ed! Barbara! Come here!" - -Maybe he'd discovered a vein of ore that might be mined, or a strange -specimen of hitherto unnoticed local fauna or flora. He remained a -scientist, while Ed had become a mere builder of buildings. - -More than likely, the woman Prell had married would be with him--she -had been Nancy Freeman of a fantastic origin. That he had separated -himself enough from his studies to take a wife was a minor miracle. -That these so-different two should be together was certainly another. -That she had learned to be both tasteful and poised, though no less -vigorous than ever, had perhaps been hoped for by the first romancing -thought that had given her real being on Earth. - -To live in peace, comfort and beauty, Ed now realized, was not a final -goal. The wild nomad, like Prell, shouting down from mountaintops, -always seeking the unknown and straining to be bigger than his -powers--however great they might have become--still had to be served. -Otherwise pride was insulted, the urge to learn and progress was -defeated; boredom set in, and centuries of life were not worth living. - -Besides, belatedly, after years, there were voices, speaking out of -wireless equipment in a way that Ed and Barbara Dukas and Mitchell -Prell had reason to remember. That this world was now haunted by beings -that floated with the dust in the air was a fact which in itself had an -eerie, nomadic charm. Three tiny beings. No, now there were four. - -"Hello! Did you guess that we came with you on the star ship?... But -we stayed on that first planet. Then we visited others. Once we slept -under a glacier--we don't know how long. Now we have built another -biological workshop. So we will not be lonely. There will be many of -us. I see you have done well. What comes next?" - -Ed had the odd and startling impression of having been spoken to -by himself. But he and a tiny speck of the clay of the half-gods -were entirely distinct, even if their names were the same. The vast -difference in size, enforcing separate thought patterns to meet the -problems of different environment, had widened the gap further. - -"It's us!" Barbara said. - -Mitchell Prell and Nancy were also present just then, in the Dukas -house. Perhaps the visitors had waited for them to be there. - -"I know who you mean," Nancy remarked. "Your little folk, Mitch. Tell -them something. Or do they embarrass you by being so strange? Have you -forgotten?" - -Prell laughed somewhat unsteadily. Other interests had long ago taken -his attention away from the small regions that were within the reach of -android powers. - -"They're special friends," he said. "We won't have any trouble talking -to them. Hello yourselves!" - -So it was, for an hour. There was a mood of elfin charm, of expanded -dimensions, of soft, rich colors; of physical laws wonderfully -different in effect. The memory was haunting. But the larger Ed and -Barbara had no present wish to return to that fantastic land. It was -not their destiny. - -"So long for now...." The voices faded away playfully. But as Sirian -time built Terran years, they were occasionally heard again, bearing a -note of challenge. - -The new city had grown huge. The surrounding country was becoming -populous. And the inevitable happened, like part of a plan implanted -in the nature of man from the beginning--to grow, to reach out, to -be bigger in all things than he was before, though perhaps even to -imagine the final goal itself was still beyond his intelligence and his -experience. Now a more rugged body only made the drives stronger and -the outcome more sure. - -Still orbiting around this first colonial world, outside the old solar -system and linked to the history of Earth, was the star ship, kept -always in careful order. But on a small, jagged moon, a larger, better -craft was under construction. It would have thrilled ancient blood; it -could stir an android more. - -Something sultry began to ache in Ed Dukas's mind at the thought of -restraint. - -"Some of us will have to go on, Babs," he said one dwarf-lit -half-night. "Blame it on fundamental biological law--in me, and the -boys, too. Call it building an empire too big for any government. Maybe -it's an intended step--toward some other condition still out of sight. -No doubt we're far from the end of what we can become. I don't know. -I don't really care. I'm just a man and glad of it. I only know how I -feel, and I suspect that, deep down, you feel the same!" - -For a moment Barbara was angry and sad. She still had a woman's wish -for permanence. She knew that Ed was thinking of other stars and their -systems--red giants, flickering variables, bursting novae--a whole -universe of mystery beckoning to a new kind of human. Even the ugly -coal-sack clouds of cosmic dust could have their appeal. She herself -was not beyond being intrigued by such things. - -She walked across her pleasant room, which had begun to bore her a -little, as Ed knew. "I'm game," she said mildly. - -Inconceivably far off were other galaxies. Maybe Ed read her mind -a little, as she thought of the vast, tilted swirl of the one in -Andromeda, almost as big as their native Milky Way. It was the nearest, -but so distant that all the light-years they had crossed could seem -a mile by comparison. As a child she used to look at a picture of it -and think that everything she could imagine, and much more, was there: -books, musical instruments, summer nights, dark horror. - -Ed and she were like the pagan divinities dreamed up wistfully long -ago. Yet now she felt very humble. - -"Ed--" - -"Yes?" - -"I was just wondering where God lives," she said. - - * * * * * - - ABOUT THE AUTHOR - - -_Ray Gallun's stories have appeared in virtually every science-fiction -magazine known to English-speaking man_--Galaxy, Astounding Science -Fiction, Amazing Stories, Marvel Tales, Startling Stories, _etc._, -_etc._, _plus_ Collier's, Family Circle, Utopia (_Germany_), _and -various anthologies_. - -_He was born in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, in 1910, attended the University -of Wisconsin, and has since spent most of his time, when not writing, -traveling through the U. S., Mexico, Hawaii, Europe, and the Middle -East. He is currently a resident of New York City._ - - * * * * * - -"AMONG THE BETTER SCIENCE-FICTION NOVELS." --_Wilmington News_ - -"Scientific experiments on the moon and an accidental lunar explosion -that seared the earth triggers another tale from the imaginative pen of -Raymond Z. Gallun, a familiar name to science-fiction readers. - -"The secret of life and the restoring to the living of victims of -the holocaust initiate a conflict for Ed Dukas, Gallun's scientific -pioneer of the future. Restoring persons through scientific methods, -personality records and the memories of near kin, leaves one fatal -flaw. They lack one indefinable quality--a divine spark, perhaps a soul. - -"Gallun depicts a struggle between the restored people and the natural -living. Life on the asteroids, thought machines, a journey to Mars and -a star ship expedition to Sirius are woven into the plot. - -"PEOPLE MINUS X is packed with action, science-fiction style."--_Detroit -Times_ - - * * * * * - - _Of special interest to science-fiction readers_-- - - ACE BOOKS - - _recommends these exciting new volumes_: - - - D-223 THE 13TH IMMORTAL by Robert Silverberg - Was he a fugitive from Utopia? - _and_ THIS FORTRESS WORLD by James E. Gunn - He brought the skies down upon him. - - D-255 CITY UNDER THE SEA by Kenneth Bulmer - Despots of the ocean bottom. - _and_ STAR WAYS by Poul Anderson - "Enjoyable, fast-moving, convincing."--_Astounding S.F._ - - D-261 THE VARIABLE MAN AND OTHER STORIES - by Philip K. Dick - Five exciting adventures in the future. - - D-277 CITY ON THE MOON by Murray Leinster - A novel of the first lunar colonists - _and_ MEN ON THE MOON - Edited by Donald A. Wollheim - A new anthology of lunar exploration. - - D-286 ACROSS TIME by David Grinnell - Kidnapped into the future! - _and_ INVADERS FROM EARTH - by Robert Silverberg - His lies decided the fate of two worlds. - - 35¢ - -If not available at your newsdealer, any of these books may be bought -by sending 35¢ (plus 5¢ handling fee) for each number to Ace Books, -Inc. (Sales Dept.), 23 W. 47th St., New York 36, N. Y. - - Order by book number - - * * * * * - - _If you've enjoyed this book, you will not want to miss these_ - - ACE SCIENCE-FICTION NOVELS - - - D-266 TWICE UPON A TIME by Charles L. Fontenay - Eternal guardians of the star circuit - _and_ THE MECHANICAL MONARCH by E. C. Tubb - One extra man could unbalance the world. - - D-205 THE EARTH IN PERIL - Edited by Donald A. Wollheim - Exciting stories of invaders from space. - _and_ WHO SPEAKS OF CONQUEST? - by Lan Wright - The galaxy said: "Earthmen, go home!" - - D-215 THREE TO CONQUER by Eric Frank Russell - Only one man knew the Earth was invaded! - _and_ DOOMSDAY EVE by Robert Moore Williams - Were the strangers impervious to H-Bombs? - - D-199> STAR GUARD by Andre Norton - "Fast-paced and good reading."--_Saturday Review_ - _and_ THE PLANET OF NO RETURN - by Poul Anderson - The first--or the last--on that new world? - - D-193 THE MAN WHO JAPED by Philip K. Dick - In the days of the robot peeping toms! - _and_ THE SPACE-BORN by E. C. Tubb - Their world was entirely man-made! - - - Two Complete Novels for 35¢ - -If your newsdealer is sold out, send 35¢ per book number (plus 5¢ -handling charges) directly to Ace Books (Sales Dept.), 23 W. 47th St., -New York 36, N. 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Gallun. - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of People Minus X, by Raymond Zinke Gallun - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: People Minus X - -Author: Raymond Zinke Gallun - -Release Date: September 27, 2015 [EBook #50063] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEOPLE MINUS X *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1><i>PEOPLE MINUS X</i></h1> - -<p>by RAYMOND Z. GALLUN</p> - - -<p>ACE BOOKS, INC. -23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.</p> - - -<p>PEOPLE MINUS X</p> - -<p>Copyright 1957, by Raymond Z. Gallun</p> - -<p>An Ace Book, by arrangement with Simon and Schuster, Inc.</p> - -<p>All Rights Reserved</p> - -<p>Printed in U.S.A.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence -that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#I">I</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#II">II</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#III">III</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#IV">IV</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#V">V</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#VI">VI</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#VII">VII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#VIII">VIII</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#IX">IX</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><a href="#X">X</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2><a name="I" id="I">I</a></h2> - - -<p>Ed Dukas was writing letters. Someone or something was also -writing—unseen but at his elbow. It was perhaps fifteen minutes before -he noticed. Conspicuous at the center of the next blank sheet of paper -he reached for, part of a word was already inscribed:</p> - -<p>"<i>Nippe ...</i>"</p> - -<p>The writing was faint and wavering but in the same shade of blue ink as -that in his own pen.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas said "Hey?" to himself, mildly.</p> - -<p>The frown creases between his hazel eyes deepened. They were evidence -of strain that was not new. The stubby forefinger and thumb of his -right hand rubbed their calloused whorls together. Surprise on his -square face gave way to a cool watchfulness that, in the last ten years -of guarded living, had been grimed into his nature. Ed Dukas was now -twenty-two. This era was hurtling and troubled. Since his childhood, -Ed had become acquainted with wonder, beauty, hate, opportunity and -disaster on a cosmic level, luxury, adventure, love. Sometimes he had -even found peace of mind.</p> - -<p>He put down his pen, leaving the letter he had been writing suspended -in mid-sentence:</p> - -<p>... <i>Pardon the preaching, Les. Human nature and everything else seems -booby-trapped. They drummed the idea of courage and careful thinking -into us at school. Because so much that is new and changing is a big -thing to handle. Still, we'll have to stick to a course of action.</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Now Ed sat with his elbows on his table, that other, no longer quite -blank, sheet of paper held lightly in his hands. He sat there, a stocky -young man, his hair cut short like a hedge, the clues of his existence -around him: student banners on the walls; a stereoptic picture of his -track team—in color of course; ditto for his astrophysics class; his -bookcase; his tiny sensipsych set; and the delicate instruments that -any guy who hoped to reach the next human goal, the nearer stars, had -to learn about.</p> - -<p>His girl's picture, part of any youth's pattern of life for the last -three centuries, smiled from beside him on the table. Dark. Strong as -girls were apt to be, these days. Beautiful in a rough-hewn way. But -even with all that strength to rely on, he was worried about her more -than ever now. Times were strange. He glanced at her likeness once. -Then his gaze bounced back to the paper in his hands.</p> - -<p>His nerves tingled at the eerie thing that was happening there. He -didn't know whether to feel afraid of it or hopeful. Man was stumbling -toward ultimate mastery of his own flesh and the forces of the -universe. But the distance remained enormous, though technical science -was moving forward, perhaps too swiftly, on all fronts. Part of Ed's -fear before the unknown was like the stage fright of an inexperienced -actor. You never quite knew what was ahead or how to judge anything -strange that you saw.</p> - -<p>"<i>Nippe....</i>"</p> - -<p>At the end of the line which made the "e" there was a tiny speck of -blue ink. Almost imperceptibly, like the minute hand of a clock, it -crept on, curving and looping to form another letter.</p> - -<p>"<i>Nipper</i>" the word was now.</p> - -<p>This could be somebody's funny gag, Ed thought. Somebody with a gadget. -The world is full of gadgets these days. Maybe too full.</p> - -<p>It occurred to him that a pal might be playing a joke with some simple -device bought in a novelty store. But probability leaned toward -something deeper and more costly. Who knew? Someone might have invented -a way to make a man invisible. You didn't deny that anything could be, -any more.</p> - -<p>"Speak up!" he ordered softly.</p> - -<p>But no answer came, and his wondering gaze found nothing unusual in the -room around him. He froze. "<i>Nipper.</i>" It could be part of a message, -an honest attempt to convey vitally important information. Or it could -be the forerunner of violence aimed in his direction. Through no fault -of his own, he had had enemies for ten years. Tonight they might -really act. To die was still possible. In spite of vitaplasm. Or the -more tedious method that employed natural flesh. Or the tiny cylinders -hidden away in vaults. Lives were now in danger again. Human, and -almost human....</p> - -<p>For a moment Ed wanted to give a warning and to call others into -consultation. He wanted to shout, "Dad! Mom! Come here!"</p> - -<p>He didn't do so. Between him and the precise, benign personality that -he called Dad there was a gradually growing barrier. And for his -mother, beautiful and young by art and science, he had that feeling of -male protectiveness that takes the form of keeping possible dangers -hidden.</p> - -<p>Ed decided to work on his own. Being essentially careful and slow -moving when it came to delicate processes, he had not touched that -creeping droplet of ink. Its secret might thus be destroyed. No, he'd -never do a thing so foolish.</p> - -<p>Swiftly he folded the paper and fastened the writing under his -microscope. The ink speck was almost dry now, and nothing was hidden in -it. The line of the writing itself was odd under magnification. Here -and there it showed tiny, irregular dots at spaced intervals, connected -by fine, dragging marks. That was all.</p> - -<p>Of course he realized that <i>Nipper</i> might be only the first cryptic -word of a message and that he had only to wait and see what would -follow.</p> - -<p>Until he began to wait, however, the significance of the word itself -eluded him. A child's nickname was all that it suggested.</p> - -<p>But now his mind bore down on it. And he had the answer almost at -once. A small boy climbing the wall of a pretty garden. And his casual -christening by a pleasant stranger who met him thus for the first time. -Among more vivid and significant details, the memory of the name itself -had been mislaid. But Ed Dukas knew that in his boyhood one person had -always called him Nipper: Uncle Mitch Prell, and nobody else. Now it -seemed like a secret sign.</p> - -<p>Ed gulped, his reaction suspended somewhere between shocked pleasure -and a frosty sense of eeriness. To have a friend, whom he had loved -as a child, vanish into space and into apparent nonexistence after -becoming a fugitive, and then to have what <i>seemed</i> to be this -friend try to communicate again after ten years, and in this weird -manner—well—how would you say it? Ghosts, of course, were pure -superstition. But in this age one could still react as if to the -supernatural—with tingling hide and quickened heartbeats. In fact, -with the vast growth of technology, more than ever was such a feeling -possible.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Mitch!" Ed Dukas called quietly.</p> - -<p>Again there was no reply. The name on the paper still could be somebody -else's trick. Granger's, maybe. There were ways for him to have learned -a nickname. Many people might admire Granger as much as others despised -him. And it was hard to say what he might do, or when. Or how, for that -matter. He was clever. And wrong.</p> - -<p>There was still another thing to remember. Ed did not altogether love -the memory of his uncle, Dr. Mitchell Prell. For this famous scientist -was marked with the stigma of responsibility for a terrific mishap. No, -Prell did not bear the burden alone. There were other scientists, it -was said, who had poked too roughly, and with too sharp a stick, into -Nature's deepest lair. Nature had snarled back. Ed had grown up with -the public hate that had resulted. He had fought against it, yet he had -felt it, until sometimes he did not know where he himself stood.</p> - -<p>Now he waited for more writing to be traced on the paper under the -microscope. A minute passed, but there was nothing more. He did notice, -however, that the letters of that one word matched roughly the austere -handwriting of his uncle.</p> - -<p>Once he glanced toward the window with some nervousness. Outside, the -night was glorious. Never again would nights be hideous as they once -had been. He saw lush gardens under silver light. If any devilish -thing not known until recent months slithered through the shadows, it -kept hidden. Ed saw other neighboring houses. New trees had grown to -fair size in ten years. Older and larger trees remained lopsided and -gnarled. But their burn scars had healed.</p> - -<p>Otherwise there was nothing left to monument the past—except, perhaps, -the sullen mutter of voices in nearby streets.</p> - -<p>But Ed Dukas's mind, triggered by the name <i>Nipper</i> and by awareness -of Mitchell Prell, slipped briefly away from the present. He had -often explored memory to find understanding. At school, after the -catastrophe, psychiatrists had made every kid do that. So that neuroses -might be broken or lessened or avoided. So that animal terror would not -draw a curtain over a mental record of an interlude. So that memory -might not be lodged, like a red coal of hysteria, in the subconscious.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Like a trained dog leaping through a flaming hoop, Ed Dukas's thoughts -plunged back to that zone where his earliest memories faded into the -mists of infancy:</p> - -<p>A birthday cake with two candles. A fountain splashing in the patio of -this same house. A dachshund, Schnitz, which a little boy put in almost -the same category as the flat, rubber-tired robots that cleaned the -rooms. Where was the distinction between machines and animals?</p> - -<p>Flowers, hummingbirds, and butterflies in the garden. The echoes of -footsteps on stone floors. Toy space ships and star ships at Christmas. -The star ships were things yet to become real.... There was endless -interest in life then. But even in those days there were signs of -cautious and puzzled guidance.</p> - -<p>There was the sensipsych, of course. It was a wonderful box of dark -wood in the living room. A soft couch folded down from it. There you -lay, and for a moment strange golden light flickered into your eyes. -You went to sleep, but you did not really go to sleep. For you became -someone else. Maybe a cartoon character in a world where everything -looked different. Funny things happened to you that frightened you at -first; but then you laughed when you found that there was no harm in -them.</p> - -<p>Or, instead of being in such a crazy fairyland, you might be a real -boy in space armor jumping across the surface of a huge chunk of rock -called an asteroid, while stars and a blazing white sun stared at you -from blackness. You were very busy helping others to roof the asteroid -with crystal, and to put air underneath, and to build houses and -factories where people might live and work. Always more and more people -spreading out and out to populate the empty worlds of space.</p> - -<p>But you were never on that sensipsych couch for very long, or too -often. You would wake up, and there was Mom saying, "Enough, fella. -A little of that sort of thing goes a great way, even when the -experiences are rugged and educational and not just whimsical nonsense."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas would be angry and puzzled. For it had seemed that those -visions, going on without end, could bring joy forever.</p> - -<p>"You'll understand sometime, Eddie," his mother would say, consoling -him. "What happens to you by sensipsych is just make-believe. What we -call recorded sensory experience. Some of it really happened to other -people. Some of it is just made up. It can teach you things. But too -much is very bad. Not so long ago folks found out."</p> - -<p>There was something tender and hard and even scared in his mother's -words.</p> - -<p>Ed's dad also had his comments. Dad was something called a minerals -expert.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Eddie, let's rassle," he'd say. "Stick your chin out, boy. -Let's see how tough you can look. No, not mean-tough.... That's better. -We've got to lick the times we live in. And something in ourselves. -With machines doing so much for us, life can be soft. And sensipsych -dreams are soft. Everything in moderation. Dreams can make you feel as -helpless as an oyster. Until you despise yourself and the whole race. -Yes, people found out. They were always meant to feel strong and proud, -and they must have tasks equal to their increasing powers. Otherwise -there's spiritual rot. We've got to be ready for anything, feel our -way, try to be ready to keep our balance for whatever comes. Because -life could be terrible, too, if the wonderful forces we control got out -of hand. We've got to go on progressing—moving out to the planets, and -then maybe the stars. Got to go either ahead or backward. Can't stand -still. And it's easy to go backward nowadays. Got to fight that, Eddie, -or else there might be a kind of death."</p> - -<p>"What is death, Dad?"</p> - -<p>Ed's father would answer his son's serious expression with a gay grin. -"A kind of myth, now, boy. Just going to sleep and never waking up. We -hope it's mostly finished, for everybody. Even the disease of old age -turned out to be something like rust gathering in a pipe. Simple. It -can be fixed up. Some people even let themselves get old. But they can -be made young again. Always."</p> - -<p>Eddie had other questions.</p> - -<p>"You were born in the old way, Eddie," his mother said. "But <i>so many</i> -people are needed now to populate the solar system. So everybody can't -be born from his mother's body. There's another way; almost the same, -really. Babies are born—they're made, really—in a laboratory. Then -they live in a youth center, like the one on the hill."</p> - -<p>Eddie saw its great white spire looming among the trees. Often he could -hear voices in the gardens and playgrounds on the terraced setbacks of -its many levels. The voices seemed mysterious somehow.</p> - -<p>Even then Eddie sensed the groping and confusion that was in his -parents' minds. Sometimes his mother would speak fervently to his -father: "Jack, I'd never choose to live in another age. I love it. -Because it's rich, endlessly varied, exciting. Is that why I'm often -scared out of my wits? Even disgusted often enough with my selfish self -and all the automatic devices? I love my work, the planning of pleasant -interiors. I'm so busy there doesn't even seem to be time for another -child. Yet maybe there are centuries ahead, Jack. How does one fill -centuries without getting fed up? And are we supposed to be something -superhuman in the end? Or do we wind up like the ancient Martians and -the beings of the Asteroid Planet, before it was blown to millions of -pieces? Wiped out in super-conflict, before they could progress very -much further than we are now?"</p> - -<p>Most of this went over Eddie's head. But it left a smoky tension to -lurk in his mind behind the peaceful presence of sun and trees. People -had made their world more beautiful for their own relaxed enjoyment. -Yet even in those days Eddie sensed the turbulent undercurrent deep -inside them.</p> - -<p>Once his father expressed a vagrant thought: "Maybe we should go out -to Venus sometime, Eileen. Start life over more simply in an uncrowded -planet that's being conditioned to receive our ancient race. Maybe -we'll do it in just a few years." He grinned.</p> - -<p>"Yes," Eddie's mother replied. "If being indefinitely young and alive -doesn't fool us before then. If our complicated civilization doesn't -crack open and spit fire, and vaporize everybody. Death by violence is -still definitely possible. You know, lots of our friends are getting -their bodies and minds recorded so that they can be restored in case -of serious injury. Maybe we should have done it long ago."</p> - -<p>Jack Dukas met her concern with a light tease: "A woman's worry -matched against the stubbornness of a man—eh, Eileen? There's -something unnatural about being recorded that I rebel against. Don't -be too troubled, though. The centuries won't slip from our fingers so -immediately. I hardly ever touch a dangerous thing in my work. Besides, -safety devices are almost perfect."</p> - -<p>Such serious, troubled thoughts did not dim the optimism and eagerness -of young Ed Dukas. His private dreams soared into the thrills of -Someday. His small hands were impatient to grasp the shadowy shapes -of the future, more legendary than the not-distant past with its -still-living heroes: Roland, who was largely responsible for the -rejuvenation process; Schaeffer, who developed the sensipsych, brought -on the dream-world period of decay, and in the end helped Harwell -defeat the trap of emasculating visions by urging mankind back toward a -vigorous grip on reality; and the hundreds of others who had taken part.</p> - -<p>But the first visit of Mitchell Prell, when Ed Dukas was five, was, -to the boy, like acquaintance with a legend. "Hi, Nipper!" were the -first words his uncle had spoken to Eddie. Dr. Mitchell Prell was his -mother's brother. He was a much smaller man than Eddie's dad, and dark -instead of blond. He was famous. And he brought gifts.</p> - -<p>"A piece of the Moon, Nipper," he said. "An opal imbedded naturally -in gold. For your mom. And this case of instruments dug up in Martian -ruins, for your dad. Fifty million years old but better than anything -designed by human beings for locating ores far underground. And this -for you—also from Mars. I haven't been there for a long time. But I -got an old friend to send me the stuff—to the labs on the Moon."</p> - -<p>Maybe Eddie's gift had once been a toy for the off-spring of extinct -Martian monsters. It was triangular like a kite, metallic, with a -faint lavender sheen. When you whistled a certain way, a jet of air -made it rise high in the sky. But it always came back. Atomic power was -in it somewhere. For it never ran out of energy.</p> - -<p>Uncle Mitch never seemed to say much. He didn't get deep into -philosophy. He set up queer apparatus in his room, and a kid could look -at it if he didn't touch. And to one of Dad's questions he answered -briefly, "Yes, we're making headway in the labs on the Moon. There'll -be a motor for star ships. If, in our experiments, hyperspace itself -doesn't burst at the seams under that level of power. No, we're not yet -trying for speeds of more than a fraction of that of light. A trip to a -star will take a long time."</p> - -<p>It soon came out that Uncle Mitch had another interest. He kept in a -glass tube something that squirmed and wriggled, and felt like warm -flesh though its natural form, when at rest, was a slender cylinder of -pencil size.</p> - -<p>About that he would only say, "Call it alive if you want to. But not -like us. Invented and artificial, and far more rugged than our flesh. -For the rest, wait and see if anything comes of it. Maybe it'll become -the clay of the superman. Schaeffer, here on Earth, is working on it, -too."</p> - -<p>Uncle Mitch stayed for a week. Then he was gone, rocketing out to the -labs, isolated for safety at the center of a <i>mare</i> on the always -hidden hemisphere of the Moon.</p> - -<p>"Mitch knows what he wants and is direct about it," was Jack Dukas's -comment. "Simple. No conflicts. The scientist's approach. Wise or -stupid? Who knows?"</p> - -<p>Eddie was six, and then seven. The years moved slowly, but he grew -and hardened with them. By the time he was twelve, sports and study -and awareness of realities had toughened his body and matured his -soul considerably. That was fortunate, for this was his and mankind's -fateful year. The day came when the household robots were fixing up the -guestroom specially for Uncle Mitch again. Dad was afield, a hundred -miles away, to look over a vein of quartz crystal that was to be -shipped to the lunar laboratories. At 9:00 P.M. Eddie's father -had not yet returned.</p> - -<p>Eddie was sprawled on his bed looking lazily at the translucent blue -font of the lamp beside it. The color was rich and beautiful, the -carvings snaky and odd. Here was another gift, ordered by Uncle Mitch -from a friend in the region of the Asteroids. The font was an artifact -of a race contemporary with the Martians who had also lost their fight -to master nature and themselves through knowledge. The font had been -found floating free in space, among the wreckage of a planet blown to -pieces ages back.</p> - -<p>Eddie was thinking of such things. He was also thinking of neighborhood -pals, to whom he had bragged about his uncle and his expected arrival.</p> - -<p>As for what happened at that moment: there <i>was</i> transpatial warning, -radioed out fifteen seconds ahead, telling of forces gone hopelessly -out of control in the lunar laboratories. But Eddie's set was not -functioning, and he did not hear it.</p> - -<p>Beyond the windows of his room there was just calm, pale moonlight. The -Moon looked little different than it always looked, except for the blue -spots of the atmosphere domes of the great mining centers.</p> - -<p>But then came the intolerable blue-white light. Perhaps, somewhere, -exposed instruments measured its intensity. On the roofs of -meteorological stations, maybe. Say conservatively that, for the space -of a few seconds, it was five hundred times as strong as full sunshine.</p> - -<p>Night was broken off. But there was no day like this. For one fragment -of a second Eddie glanced at the window. Shadows seemed gone, utterly. -Even dark things like tree trunks reflected so much light that they -all but vanished in the shimmering glare. As yet, it was a soundless -phenomenon.</p> - -<p>Eddie shut his eyes and buried his face in his pillow. This reflex -action, partly as natural as terror and partly the result of training -for emergencies at school, saved his vision. He might have screamed, -had he been able to find his voice. Distantly, he heard human sounds -that increased the sickness in his stomach. A gentle scene and mood, -product of science, had been utterly shattered by forces of the same -origin.</p> - -<p>He did not see the fuzzy blob of incandescence that bloomed in the sky -and expanded slowly for many seconds. In fact, no one saw it; only -cameras, fitted with special dark filters, would have been able to do -so. For living eyes would have been charred by that splendor.</p> - -<p>He heard his mother calling his name. Keeping his eyelids tightly -closed and an elbow bent over them, he fumbled his way to the hall, and -to her. They dropped to the floor and huddled there.</p> - -<p>Outside, voices died away. By then the devilish glory in the sky was -fading a little, too, at the edges. Only the heart of the great blob -still blazed supernally, with its millions of degrees of heat. Around -it was a cooling fog of dust and gases that masked the hell within it.</p> - -<p>The world grew still for a few moments, as it does at the center of -a typhoon. Then there was a great, soft roaring. The shock wave of -expanded, rarefied gases, speeding at many hundreds of miles per -second, striking the upper terrestrial atmosphere, and pressing down. -Eddie could feel the pressure of it, transmitted by the air—a light -but definite punching inward of his flesh, from all sides.</p> - -<p>Then there was a distant sighing of wind—air, super-heated and -compressed, being forced outward. Next came the resurgence of human -sounds, if they were truly that any more.</p> - -<p>Someone was yelling, "Oh, God ... Oh, God ... Oh, God...." There was a -crackle and smell of fire. Something blew up far off.</p> - -<p>Then the earthquakes began. With a sharp snap, rock strata far -underground broke. Then came a jolt. Eddie Dukas and his mother, -huddled on the floor, were engulfed in a swaying sensation, smooth and -vibrationless. Then the ground quivered softly. After that, there -was a pause, as of something hanging precariously for a moment at the -jagged lip of a chasm. Suddenly the pathetic hold seemed to be broken, -and the whole world was seized by a tooth-cracking chatter. A pause.... -Then it began again.</p> - -<p>For a second Eddie's mother almost lost her control. She tried to rise. -"The house!" she stammered. "It'll fall on us."</p> - -<p>Panic and reason fought inside Eddie. "No, Mom," he gasped. "The house -has a steel frame. It'll probably hold together. Outside, we don't know -what would happen to us."</p> - -<p>They both braced themselves for the next seismic burst. They were -both creatures of luxury, science-made. But planning, training, -psychology—science it all was, too—had given them ruggedness and -courage, a reserve of strength against hysteria—while the earth -rattled again and again.</p> - -<p>Eddie's mom kept saying things, and it was all something like a formula -that had been learned, a rote, a parroted incantation: "You're right, -Eddie. We've got to think before we do anything. They always tell us -that life is an adventure. We've got to meet a bigger future or be -destroyed, Eddie. Everything takes nerve."</p> - -<p>At last the earthquake shocks lessened both in intensity and frequency. -Maybe the worst was over.</p> - -<p>Eddie risked an eye, and then nudged his mother.</p> - -<p>Beyond the undamaged flexoglass of the windows night had returned, -red-lit from both sky and ground. The firmament was smeared with -a ruddy glow extending in a great curve, beaded with more intense -blobs at several points. Dust of the Moon, it had to be. Of its rock -and pumice shell. And of its core of meteoric iron. But that sullen -effulgence was fading now, as matter cooled and began simply to reflect -solar light back to this dark side of Earth.</p> - -<p>Yet everywhere outside there was fire. The towering glow in the -east—that would be the City, fifty miles away. Destruction and -confusion there would be unimaginable. Nearer at hand, trees were -aflame—leaves and branches that minutes ago had been cool with -greenness now blazed wildly. Mixed with the tumult of voices was the -clang of robot fire units.</p> - -<p>Eddie rushed to the radio and turned it on, as he had been taught to -do in emergencies. You listened; you obeyed directions. "... lunar -blowup," someone was saying. "Follow the usual precautions and measures -for radioactive contamination and flesh burns. Rescue and relief units -are already in action. Fortunately most of our buildings are not made -of combustible materials...."</p> - -<p>For minutes Eddie was furiously busy, rubbing special salves and -lotions into the skin of his entire body. Then, dressed in fresh -clothes, he and his mother just stared out of the windows for a while. -Outside, metal shapes were at work. Science and civilization were -working efficiently to recapture their balance after an upset that -might have been the end.</p> - -<p>Eddie and his mother explored the house and found it mostly intact. -Then incident piled on incident in quick succession. The first of these -began with a whimper at the door. Masked with respirators against -possible radioactive taints in the outside air, they opened it. A -blackened thing without eyes dragged itself inside, quivered once, and -lay still. It was death among supposed immortals. The passing of a -dachshund called Schnitz.</p> - -<p>Eddie was dazed. Child-grief or man-grief had no chance to come to him -then. Events moved too fast. There was too much to be done.</p> - -<p>A half-dozen people in radiation armor came into the house. At once -it was converted into a first-aid station. Hard law and hard drills, -blueprinted long before for disaster, came into play. Eddie's mother -joined the crew. Nor was he left out of it. There was coffee for him to -prepare in the kitchen, and rugs and furniture to be cleared away, and -equipment to be set up.</p> - -<p>He saw blood and death, and hysteria-twisted faces. He saw glinting, -complex instruments and apparatus, as the therapeutic methods of the -age were applied. There were blood pumps that could serve as hearts -and machines to duplicate the functions of kidneys and lungs. There -were devices to teleport scattered body cells from a dozen healthy -individuals, converting them briefly into mobile energy, and then back -into living tissue in the body of an injured person.</p> - -<p>Mostly the maimed and burned remained stolid and calm. Luxury had -not weakened them. They, too, had known their era and had had some -preparation.</p> - -<p>Eddie recognized a child of his own age among those who came into -his own house: a neighbor boy named Les Payten, the son of a noted -biologist. He had big ears and a freckled nose. He wasn't hurt badly. -His eyes were inflamed. He hadn't shut them quite quickly enough. He -had turned sullen, and his lip trembled a bit. Otherwise he was still -full of pepper.</p> - -<p>"Braggin' about your Uncle Mitch <i>now</i>, Eddie?" he taunted. "Great -stuff, that guy! He and his pal scientists nearly got us all. Better -luck next time, huh?"</p> - -<p>Young Ed Dukas might have growled back but he did not. As if he too -carried a burden of responsibility, his jaw hardened and his cheeks -hollowed. His back stiffened, as if to bear the load. He returned to -the kitchen. He had not yet noticed any other signs of blame. It was -too soon. The shock of cosmic catastrophe had deadened minds. Sometimes -prejudice and hatred need a certain leisurely brooding to build them up.</p> - -<p>But another raw realization had come to Eddie. As soon as there was a -moment to speak to his mother he said, "Uncle Mitch was supposed to -land in the City spaceport tonight. It's a six-hour run from the Moon. -But now he'll never get here."</p> - -<p>She shook her head. And in her expression there was fury mixed with her -sadness.</p> - -<p>He didn't think about that very long as he helped carry a stretcher. -His mind was on Mitchell Prell—grinning, setting up a lab in the room -upstairs, even modeling wax with his swift fingers. He had once molded -little heads of Mom and Dad. A lump gathered in Eddie's throat for -someone who would never be back. Mitchell Prell. Even the name sounded -nice.</p> - -<p>Then slowly another question came into his mind. <i>Where was Dad?</i> He'd -gone out to that quartz lode and hadn't come back! Funny, thought -Eddie, I hadn't even thought about that. Well, it came from taking Dad -for granted. Someone never to worry about. Someone always around, like -the hills. Eddie clenched his fists to steady himself. No use worrying -yet.</p> - -<p>Now the torrential rains began. Steam had been boiled out of the ground -by heat. Now it was condensing. Helping, maybe, as the radio said, to -wash away the poison of the radioactive meteorites and dust that were -falling to Earth—wreckage that hours before had been part of the Moon.</p> - -<p>Somewhere out in the moaning storm a bell chimed out ten o'clock very -calmly. It must have been about then that what was left of Jack Dukas -was brought home in a truck. Eddie didn't see this happen. He was -helping again with the injured. And later, when Les Payten told him, -Mom wouldn't let him go into the locked room where his dad had been -taken. He almost told her that he had a right. But he did not want to -disturb her further.</p> - -<p>Eddie was up till 4:00 A.M. By then the rescue crew had left -the house and a tentative calm had been restored in the world. The -injured were in hospitals, rigged in tents and public buildings. But -there were far more dead. Anyone caught more than a step from shelter -when the catastrophe had occurred was apt to belong to that endless -list. Half a planet had been scorched by heat and radiation.</p> - -<p>While the guard-robots rumbled through the rain on their caterpillar -treads, Eddie simply passed out from weariness on the floor of the -living room. His mother managed to arouse him a little but not enough -to send him to bed. Rather, she folded down the twin couches from the -sensipsych set. She made her husky young son climb up onto one of them -and took the other for herself.</p> - -<p>He slept, and his body was refreshed. And he had dreams—not dreams -in which he was an imaginary cartoon character; nor was he toiling to -make dead asteroids habitable; nor was he enjoying an adventure on -some imaginary planet among the stars. No, for the present he had had -enough of strain. Instead he lay in grass by a little lake. The sun -was bright. There were boats with colored sails, and blue flamingos -flying, and odd, elfin music. The sensipsych was not an opiate to fill -the emptiness of soft lives now. It was rest; it was honest, relieving -therapy.</p> - -<p>Young Ed Dukas didn't see the mud-spattered truck arrive, to be parked -some distance from the house. He did not see the figure moving in the -dense shadows. It knocked cautiously at the front door, waited for a -reasonable time, and then went around to the porch in the rear. There -skillful fingers worked carefully to release the lock. Massive luggage -was lifted without sound inside the door.</p> - -<p>Eddie awoke with a small, hard hand shaking his shoulder. His mother -was already awake. The light was on. At first only with simple -unbelief, they beheld a slight, disheveled figure.</p> - -<p>Uncle Mitch's cheek was scraped. His hands were filthy. His recently -neat business suit was torn. An old jauntiness about his eyes fought -with worry, regret and wariness.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Eileen," he said. "Hi, Nipper."</p> - -<p>He received no answer. Somehow even Eddie felt compelled to silence. So -his uncle shifted to what was a rarity with him—a kind of historical -or philosophical summary.</p> - -<p>"Progress," he said with a forced laugh. "The world government -answering the threat of atomic war, years ago. Then the greatest -boon of the human race: eternal youth, and death's defeat except by -violence, producing the problem of overpopulation, to be relieved by -the colonization of the solar system. Then peace and boredom and the -sensipsych dreams leading to decadence, loss of pride in self and even -rebellious violence; then the solution of vigorous, realistic action, -more and more people to enjoy life, more and more colonies. Then, as we -reach out for the stars, this. Life. The great adventure that can't be -stopped. The rise from barbarism. Is it even well begun?"</p> - -<p>His words, half appropriate and half in supremely bad taste now, as -Mitchell Prell well knew—though he had to say them because of the need -to say something—still fell into a void of silence and echoed through -the house like a cheap speech.</p> - -<p>Sighing raggedly, he tried again: "Yes, I'm alive, Eileen. The ship -from the Moon was in space before the blowup happened. We rode ahead of -the main shock wave at high speed. So we won through. From the final -warning message from the Moon, I gather that trouble started in the -warp chambers. The heat and pressure were restrained by the tight space -warp for a while, until inter-dimensional barriers ripped wide open. -The whole mass of the Moon was in the way. By old standards it couldn't -happen; but a lot of lunar atoms went all to pieces in a flare of high -energy. The tough part is that we achieved a workable motor principle -for stellar ships weeks ago. The blowup came from side line testing."</p> - -<p>Once more no words answered Mitchell Prell when he stopped talking. He -waited, but his sister's eyes remained cold.</p> - -<p>"All right, Eileen," he went on at last. "You're thinking that I am one -of the specialists who is responsible for this. Surely I'm the only -survivor among those research men who were on the Moon. But remember -this: we weren't working on our own. We were hired, under a democratic -system, and told what to hunt for. It was the best that could be -done, except that the lab should have been put farther away, on some -lonely asteroid. Logically, then, we are not solely to blame for what -has happened. But it doesn't work that way, Eileen. Under grief and -hysteria logic still collapses, even in our time. In a real crisis -there continue to be many people who need scapegoats. A collective -mishap, the result of a mass desire for more knowledge, then becomes a -personal guilt. So I'm a fugitive, Eileen."</p> - -<p>It was a strange, bitter thing for Eddie Dukas to watch—his mother and -uncle facing each other, not friends, his mother's face a hard mask of -coldness.</p> - -<p>Then, all at once, her icy poise crumbled. "Jack isn't alive any more," -she said. "My husband. That's the fact that I know best. You with your -glib talk, my brother, are one person directly in the chain of events -that caused Jack's death. I don't accuse you, Mitch. I just say that I -can't look on you now with any pleasure. That's all."</p> - -<p>Then, sitting there on the sensipsych couch, she began to cry. It was -painful for Eddie to watch. He had never seen her do that before.</p> - -<p>But Mitchell Prell chuckled. He sat beside his sister and put his arm -around her. "Are things so bad?" he chided. "Look, Eileen. People used -to consider biological life the deepest secret of nature. Because -he was at the top of his local life scale, man would not have been -flattered to know that the vital force in him wasn't the greatest, -the most indecipherable of enigmas. But it's true, Eileen. Year after -year we've learned more about cell function, genes, chromosomes, the -natural molding of living things, and the final process in protoplasm, -which is the spark itself. Men like Schaeffer have been making simple -life for years, while they traced out more complex riddles. For a long -time they've been replacing diseased or damaged organs from scattered -cells drawn from the bodies of many donors. Now they've gone further -and have grown such organs in a culture fluid, from a microscopic bit -of tissue. It is already theoretically possible to re-create an entire -man, provided there is a pattern. It was for repair purposes, after -possible accidents, that everyone was urged to have his body structure -recorded—especially that of his brain. All you have to do, Eileen, -is have Jack's record turned over to the same laboratories that do -rejuvenation. In two or three years he'll come back to you just as he -was. Soon there might even be a simpler, better way."</p> - -<p>Eileen Dukas's laugh was brittle and bitter. "A roll of fine, -sensitized wire," she said. "Kept in a box no bigger than the first -joint of a finger. Supposed to be safe in a vault. The pattern of a -human being. Well, Mitch, there just isn't any such box for Jack. Or -for Eddie or me either, for that matter. We just didn't get around to -it. Jack was somehow half against it."</p> - -<p>Again there was a silence. For Eddie it seemed to have the quiet of -forever in it. No whistling of Dad's tunes. No sly winks, or play at -being tough. Just memory.</p> - -<p>"All bodies that are being picked up are being sent through the -recorder," Uncle Mitch offered at last. "Refined radar does the trick. -The finest variations of even brain structure—the mold of mind, -personality, and memory—are found and recorded. Wasn't that done for -Jack?"</p> - -<p>Eddie's mother nodded. "Only," she stammered, "the whole top of his head -was charred. There wasn't enough of him left. Oh, you and your damned -science, Mitch."</p> - -<p>She was weeping again. Mitchell Prell became either cruel or perhaps he -spoke in self-defense.</p> - -<p>"The people that used to neglect things like insurance," he remarked, -"are still plentiful, aren't they? Oh, well, maybe there's still a sort -of way. A makeshift. People are bound to think of it. Let it go for -now. I've got lots to worry about, sister of mine."</p> - -<p>"Your own skin, for instance?" she challenged him. "Why did you come -here at all, Mitch? The scapegoat-seekers will certainly look for you -here first."</p> - -<p>"My own skin," Mitchell Prell agreed. "Maybe yours, since you are a -relative of mine, responsible for my sins. That is an ancient defect of -logic among certain types of people still in existence, I'm afraid—if -the provocation becomes great enough. The skins of the three of us, my -most prized treasures."</p> - -<p>He smiled slightly then, and his blue eyes were gentle. "Don't worry -too much, though," he went on. "I'll be gone sooner than most people -will even think of looking for me. I'll keep out of sight, not even -leaving the house, except after dark. I have some things to deliver to -Schaeffer. Then I've got to get away. Because life goes on, in spite of -everything. I'm still curious about nature, the stars and some other -things. I remain eager for some vast freedom, Eileen—for you and -your son, and the rest of the cussed race, whose errant qualities and -usually good intentions I share. I see no good in becoming the offering -of expiation for an accident that came out of a general human urge to -learn that can't and won't be downed."</p> - -<p>Something like a truce came then. Eddie Dukas could feel it. Family -loyalty was in it and a little of understanding and contrition.</p> - -<p>"All right, Mitch," was all that Eddie's mother said. She kissed his -uncle's cheek. Eddie knew that it was a woman's gesture of armistice.</p> - -<p>Fires had died down. Dawn was beginning to show in the patio. The rain -had stopped long ago. For no reason Eddie's eyes sought out a pool of -muddy water in a crack in the flagging. The water was clay colored, as -it might have been after any shower. A robin, which had somehow escaped -death, was scolding angrily.</p> - -<p>Breakfast was eaten listlessly. There were radio reports and orders. -"Able persons must report to their municipal centers...."</p> - -<p>"That's for you, Eddie," Mitchell Prell said ruefully. "And your -mother. While I play hiding rat."</p> - -<p>Eddie didn't know whether to hate his uncle or not. There was an inner -bigness about that slightly built man that matched some obscure drive -that was Eddie's own—in spite of his grief.</p> - -<p>"Watch yourself, sir," he growled stiffly.</p> - -<p>The day was a day of searching for corpses, of cleanup, of tentative -restoration. At least there would be no smells of death. Pruning -machines were already busy on charred treetops. The world was being -put back into order, like a disturbed anthill. Grass and leaves would -sprout again. The scared faces of younger children—many from the Youth -Center were given small tasks to help in the cleanup, since it was not -the custom now to hide reality from the young—would smile again. On -that day of sweeping the streets with a broom, Eddie Dukas made and -lost many a brief friendship. Hello.... Goodbye....</p> - -<p>Fortunately the poison of radioactivity had not been transmitted to any -great extent from across space by radiation alone. Gases and fragments -of the Moon that were still falling as meteors bore a taint to the -atmosphere; but it was now below the danger level.</p> - -<p>Overhead, arching the sky like the Rings of Saturn turned ragged, was -what was left of Luna: rock and dust. For an hour its texture veiled -the sun, until, near noon, there was almost twilight, like that of an -eclipse. That arch was a permanent monument to a night that would be -remembered.</p> - -<p>There still were hysterical people around. Eddie saw Mrs. Payten, his -friend's mother. She passed in the street, muttering, "Oh, Ronald, you -were a beast of a man, but I loved you. Why were you a fool, too?... No -record.... None...."</p> - -<p>It had been a subject of neighborhood gossip that Ronald Payten, a -large, passive lug, had been a very much hen-pecked husband. His -neglect of having a record made of himself might have seemed strange -for so noted a biologist. Maybe it was absent-mindedness, professional -difference of opinion, or even some backhanded defiance of his wife.</p> - -<p>There were moments when the wild taint in young blood and the -magnificence of disaster gave Eddie and others almost an outing mood. -But toil, sweat and horror soon turned things grim as he worked with -the men. His hands were blackened and scratched. But maybe tiredness -was balm for delayed shock. Maybe it was thus that he stood at the -brief funeral services—for his father, too—with less hurt. The great -trench was closed over the corpses, and the thing was done.</p> - -<p>Later, back in the house, he struggled with himself somewhat, and said, -"I know it wasn't your fault, Uncle Mitch."</p> - -<p>Eddie had seen stern faces that day, topping trim gray uniforms: -regional police. In him was the thought: Harboring a fugitive. One who -shouldn't be called that. But who is—now. Because people have taken a -beating like never before. Even laws can be changed. Ideas of justice -won't stay quite the same.</p> - -<p>"Have you outgrown my calling you Nipper?" Mitchell Prell asked him -seriously. "Perhaps.... But I still want to show you something."</p> - -<p>Young Ed Dukas was no sucker for easy come-ons. But his polite wariness -soon dissolved, when, in the room where Mitchell Prell was holed up, he -saw that the man who turned to face him was not his uncle. The nose and -lips were much heavier. Only the eyes and grin remained much the same, -though their general effect was made different by the difference of -surrounding features. This man looked like a good-natured mechanic.</p> - -<p>Eddie's spine chilled. But he gave a sullen snort as the man peeled his -face away. Underneath it was Uncle Mitch.</p> - -<p>"A mask, Eddie. A trick for kids, you'd say." His uncle laughed. -"I spent the day making it up, to help me get around more easily. -That's nothing. The important fact is that it is made of vitaplasm. -Remember the bar of it that I once had? Crude stuff then. Better now. -Alive in a way of its own. A synthetic and far tougher cousin to -natural protoplasm. Far less susceptible to damage by heat and cold. -Self-healing, like flesh. Sustained by food and oxygen. But capable of -drawing its energy from sunlight or radioactivity, too. And in some -of its forms less dependent on a fluid base such as water. No, it's -not consistently the same substance, or combination. Like the flesh -we know, vitaplasm is in constant change. Here and now it's just an -amorphous mass, crudely molded. An unshaped building material. But, -like star ships, it belongs to the future. Here it's undeveloped -principle, another phase of our advancing science everywhere. You could -call it the clay of the superman, Eddie. I want you to remember all -this. Because I may be back from where I'm going to try to go. Or I -might get in touch sometime. We might need each other's help."</p> - -<p>Young Ed Dukas listened with intense interest. Perhaps his deepest -drive was toward the shadowy splendor of times yet to come. They -seemed a part of his growing self. They must become real! And he must -take part in their fulfillment. Grief or hardship could not stop him. -Therein he and Mitchell Prell traveled the same road.</p> - -<p>"You didn't invent vitaplasm, Uncle Mitch," he stated. "No one could -have—alone."</p> - -<p>His sullenly serious gaze lingered on the mask. It was warm to his -touch. It even recoiled a little.</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell shook his head and chortled. "No, Nipper. You know that -research is now far too complex for that. I helped a little. Lots of -men did. Maybe I've added something to what is known. I've got to give -my data to specialists here before I leave."</p> - -<p>Eddie thought of a man he'd sometimes seen on television. No bigger -than Uncle Mitch. And plain looking. But great. Dr. Schaeffer in his -underground laboratory in the City.</p> - -<p>"You aren't going to try to reach a star, are you?" young Ed asked.</p> - -<p>Uncle Mitch shook his head. "No. I won't wander so far off." He -laughed. "But in a way I'll be going farther, I suppose. Though don't -imagine that I mean time or hyper-dimensional travel. It's something -simpler. But it's to a place where no one can journey exactly as a -human being. I can't tell you much more. Because I don't want other -people to try to dig too much out of you. But I want to look at things -from a new angle. And from very close up, you might say. Maybe I'm -trying to hide from danger, Eddie. Some. But the bigger reason is that -I want to go on learning and exploring. Maybe my being a small man -means something, too."</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell ended with another light laugh. He put the mask in his -pocket and snapped a large suitcase shut. When he spoke again it was -on a slightly different tack: "You probably won't see me for a while, -Eddie. About your father, words just aren't any good at all. Maybe I'll -ache over his end even harder than you. If anybody asks you questions -about me, tell all you know. Don't try to hide anything for my sake. -They'll pry it out of you anyway. And they'll only know what I want -them to know.</p> - -<p>"Your mother may get a letter in a few days asking you both to -report to the City. If that letter comes, see that she conforms to -its request. It will also mean that I've delivered the results of my -experiments with vitaplasm, as far as they've gone, into the proper -hands and have probably succeeded in getting away into space. I hope -that you and I and everybody make it to the Big Future, Eddie. That's -all I have to say. Unless you care to remember a word that may crop up -again—<i>android</i>."</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell grinned reassuringly at his nephew and moved to put on -his mask.</p> - -<p>"You don't want to say goodbye to Mom," Eddie stated, half angrily.</p> - -<p>Prell's look of concern deepened. His thin face was touched by a -fleeting tenderness and worry. Part of it was surely for his sister. -Then, mostly to himself, he muttered, "There's greater magnificence to -come—if we can grow past the infancy of man; if new knowledge and old -wild impulses don't do us all to death first." He chuckled sheepishly. -"You say goodbye for me, Eddie," he urged. "I hate things like that."</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell was gone then, out into the weird new night. Grimly, -already half a man, young Ed Dukas watched him go, bitterness and -grief, hatred and love, mixed up inside him. But the common denominator -between himself and his uncle was the need for that future of stars and -wonder and legendary betterment.</p> - -<p>"It <i>will</i> happen," he promised within himself. For a second his body -was taut with dread. He had already experienced the fury that knowledge -made possible, and he could sense the potential of long silence beyond -such things—no one left, anywhere! He wondered if, because life could -go on and on now, it was more precious and death more terrible.</p> - -<p>Fifteen minutes after his uncle's departure a spy beam was put into -operation from a mile distance. It covered the rooms of the Dukas house -and the grounds around it. The principle of the device was almost -ancient. The reflection of electro-magnetic waves. On a small screen -in a distant room the plan of a house and its furnishings was outlined -in a pale green glow. Shadowy blobs shifted with the movements of its -occupants, robot and human. Only two people were there now.</p> - -<p>Eddie Dukas guessed that the spy beam was there, though its irregularly -changing wave length would have made it almost impossible to identify, -among the waves from many sources used for communication.</p> - -<p>Early on the third morning after the lunar blowup the police came to -the house. They were very gentle. There was even a policewoman to ask -the questions.</p> - -<p>Eddie's mother was cool and wary.</p> - -<p>"Have you information as to the whereabouts of Dr. Mitchell Prell, Mrs. -Dukas?" she was asked. "We know that the last Moon rocket landed with -him aboard."</p> - -<p>Before she could lie Eddie blurted, "He was here all that day. He's -gone now. He didn't make his destination very clear."</p> - -<p>Eileen Dukas's eyes widened with panic and surprise. She had expected -Eddie to be more discreet.</p> - -<p>"You have no right to question my son!" she stated coldly.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Dukas," she was informed, "when there is an investigation of the -deaths of two hundred million people, we have more than the right to -question anybody."</p> - -<p>Young Ed was scared. But he felt some of the hero-impulse. Or the -desire to follow faithfully the instructions of his idol, Uncle Mitch.</p> - -<p>"If you psych my memory, what little I know will come clearer than if I -just told it," he challenged.</p> - -<p>This was done forthwith, out in the police car parked in the street. -When the helmet of the apparatus was removed from Eddie's head, the -police had certain comments of Mitchell Prell's to study. Possibly they -could puzzle out some of their hidden meaning. But this couldn't have -satisfied them very much.</p> - -<p>The next day the letter Prell had mentioned arrived. At least it -could be assumed that it was the one. Uncle Mitch had managed to make -one step of his purpose anyway! Under the heading of "Vital Section, -Schaeffer Laboratories," it said:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Dukas</span>:</p> - -<p><i>Will you kindly report at your earliest convenience to the -above section. This is of greatest importance. Please bring -your son.</i></p> - -<p><i>Sincerely</i>,</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dr. M. Bart</span></p></blockquote> - -<p>Ed was both cold with tension and hot with eagerness. The following -day he and his mother were in the battered City. Fire had scarred it. -A boiling tidal wave had washed over portions of it. But the great -building over the many subterranean levels of the Schaeffer Labs had -stood firm. Quakes had not broken it down.</p> - -<p>An elevator took them below, to that steel- and lead- and -concrete-shielded place which might have resisted for a while even a -noval outburst of the sun. They were requested to lie down on something -like sensipsych couches. A voice—maybe Dr. Bart's—spoke to them -from a swift-gathering dream: "Think about Jack Dukas. Your husband. -Your father. Things he said. His manner of speech. His expressions, -gestures, temperament, likes and dislikes, hobbies, jokes, skills. -The people that he knew. Their faces and mannerisms. As many of them -as possible will be contacted and psyched like this, too. Think of -his memories told to you. Think of everything ... everything ... -everything...."</p> - -<p>For Eileen Dukas it must have been much the same as for her son. -Pearly haze seemed to float inside Eddie's mind. Like a million bits -of ancient news clippings always in motion, his recollections of his -father seemed to burst in a thousand ever-shifting fragments within his -brain. He felt an awful compulsion to recall. It sapped his strength -until all consciousness faded away. Yet before this happened he knew -that the probing would go on and on.</p> - -<p>The next thing he knew he was sitting groggily in a pneumatic tube -train, with his mother, all but exhausted, too, leaning against -him. Almost as an afterthought, their own minds and bodies had been -"recorded" there at the laboratory. They seldom exchanged questions or -speculations afterward about what had happened to them. It had been a -dream. Let it be a dream.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="II" id="II">II</a></h2> - - -<p>Life had become hard enough for Eileen Dukas and her son. While most -people treated them all right—from some they even received exaggerated -kindness—there was, very often, a certain disturbing expression in -eyes that looked at them.</p> - -<p>Les Payten, Eddie's friend said once, "I promise, Ed. No more talk -about your uncle from me. Finished, see? You've had enough."</p> - -<p>Eddie suppressed the anger which sprang from loyalty to Mitchell Prell, -for he understood Les Payten's good intentions.</p> - -<p>At regular intervals there were police visits at the house, and -questioning. "It's partly for your protection, Mrs. Dukas," was one -honest comment from the detectives. But Eddie sensed that there was -more to it than that. Subtly, the interpretation of law had changed -since the lunar blowup. It went backward, as grief sought people to -blame. Catastrophe had been too big for reason or fairness. And the -scapegoat himself was not around to be mobbed.</p> - -<p>A freckle-faced brat from the Youth Center—her name, Barbara -Day, had been drawn out of a hat, for of course she had no known -parents—offered advice: "You ought to go far away, Eddie, where folks -don't know you. It would be better."</p> - -<p>Ed knew that this was good advice. Many people were saying and shouting -and whispering that too much knowledge was a dangerous possession. And -Ed's uncle still represented such a thing. More than once Ed had to run -fast, with some big lug chasing him. Black eyes he collected with great -frequency, and delivered some, too. Still, he ached inside. It was as -if Uncle Mitch were part of him.</p> - -<p>The world began to look normal and green again. But the undercurrents -of memory were still there. And Ed Dukas began to answer hate with -hate, though he didn't like to.</p> - -<p>There was a crowd of young toughs with rocks to throw, in front of the -house one night. "This is the place," Eddie heard one of them say. -"Both my parents are gone. And the bums that live here were in on the -reason."</p> - -<p>Ed had seen the boy around before: Ash Parker. Now the rocks flew for a -while, and Ed and his mother crouched behind locked doors. There might -have been a lynching, except that Les Payten found a neighbor with a -tear-gas vial and some other neighbors with sharp tongues and courage.</p> - -<p>It was the final straw, however. "Will we have to leave, Eddie?" his -mother asked.</p> - -<p>"It's best," he growled. "But I'll be back!"</p> - -<p>Next day the house was being boarded up. Packing began even before the -colonial travel permits were prepared.</p> - -<p>It was goodbye to Les Payten and Barbara Day, and the newly ringed -planet, Earth, with its billions of inhabitants and its great shops -that still worked to give the whole solar system to mankind and maybe -a segment of the larger universe as well. The pattern of the future -seemed set, and specialists still didn't think that there was any -real reason to make a change. In fact, they denied that any change -was possible. Nobody would give up the threshold of immortality, once -it was gained. Nor would they relinquish other triumphs that could -bring idleness and decay if they were not used to accomplish bigger -and bigger tasks. So, even the fearful ones were caught in the rushing -current of the times.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas was soon on a crowded liner. Because she might need him, he -kept close to his mother. Around them were other colonists—young -graduates from technical schools, newlyweds and people who were -physically young, too, though they were fresh from the rejuvenation -vats. They were the aged, awed by another lifetime before them.</p> - -<p>The liner blasted off. A week later it landed on an asteroid of -middling size. The Dukases were assigned to one of a group of trim -cottages that were not even all alike. Under the great glass roof, -which kept in the synthetic air, the new gardens and fruit trees were -already growing. And in coiled tubes of clear plastic filled with -water, circulated green algae from which almost any kind of basic food -could be made.</p> - -<p>To Eddie it was a satisfying dip into space that he had so much -anticipated. Amid great heaps of steel and plastic and house parts and -atomic machines to maintain a normal temperature so far from the sun, -life went on. Eddie's mother worked in the office of a shop for robot -machines. He worked too—when and where he could—when he was not at -school.</p> - -<p>There was a little more of peace, for a while anyway. There was the -usual psychological treatment to subdue possible devils of the lunar -catastrophe which might remain in his mind. There were sports and an -artificial lake to swim in with his companions. However, Ed Dukas was -wary of making deep friendships.</p> - -<p>He was then a sullen, overly matured youth of thirteen, earnest about -everything he did—for he knew that the years ahead were grimly -earnest. Carefully he kept up with the reports in scientific journals: -about the laying of the keel of the first star ship on a minute -asteroid with only a number and no name. Harwell was in charge. The -propellant would be pure radiant energy—the best of them all; energy -so concentrated that it would be truly massive and hurled at the speed -of light, which was not remarkable, since it <i>would</i> be light, far more -intense per unit area than the noval explosion of a star!</p> - -<p>This was by no means the only major advance that had been accomplished -and was reported. Technological progress was steady in all fields, -across the board, making a solid front. Others of its facets also -had a special appeal to Ed Dukas. Biological science, in its newest -interpretations, he knew to be the most important of these. Now it was -no longer just simple rejuvenation—restoring rusty organs. It was a -thing that could start from a single cell, in warm, sticky fluids, -giving rebirth to something that had already been. And it had a further -development—bringing the same results but more swiftly and easily, -and with different, far more rugged flesh. It was frightening and -fascinating. Knowing was like feeling the shadow of a demon or an angel.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ed Dukas and his mother spent four years on their asteroid. Then one -day a letter fluttered in her hand. And she seemed not to know whether -to look happy or terrified. She did not show her son the letter.</p> - -<p>"We've had enough of being here," she stated. "We're going home."</p> - -<p>So they went back across the millions of miles. They cleaned up the -house, on which obscene insults had been scribbled in chalk. On two -successive days Eddie was jumped by gangs. He fought free and escaped. -But on the third evening he was cornered. This time Ash Parker was the -ringleader. Ed battled like a bobcat, but eight opponents were too -many. He was flat on his back, and they were kicking him. His own blood -was in his mouth. What might happen when he blacked out was anybody's -guess. Once, before medical knowledge had advanced to where it was, it -would have been murder for sure.</p> - -<p>Somebody intervened—a big guy in a gray business suit who had come -striding along the block with an eager attention.</p> - -<p>He didn't say anything at first. He just collared the toughs, two at a -time in swift succession, and thrust them away.</p> - -<p>Eddie staggered up and faced his benefactor, intent on giving him -sincere thanks. "Mister ... I ..."</p> - -<p>"Hello, Eddie!" the man said, chuckling. "I see you turned out hardy. -Seventeen you'd be now."</p> - -<p>Young Ed Dukas heard the voice and looked at the face. He stiffened. -Then he made a statement in a flat tone that sounded very formal and -unemotional, which it was not: "Sir, you're my father."</p> - -<p>The man nodded. "Just off the assembly line, pal. The same guy—because -you and your mother, and some other people, remembered what I was like. -There was no record of me or of my mind. So, okay, they made one, -fella. From the memories of me left in other minds. Thanks, Eddie."</p> - -<p>"Thanks?" Ed Dukas said in a choked voice.</p> - -<p>Bloody and dirty, he stepped forward. Father and son clung to each -other. It was a moment of great triumph.</p> - -<p>Ed's mind pictured filaments, as fragile at first as pink spiderweb -but already outlining a human shape, held suspended in a kind of -jelly—growing there, forming according to a record. Now even the -record could be synthesized. It seemed like real freedom from death at -last.</p> - -<p>Ash Parker had not fled. Now he spoke, sounding awed, "Jeez, Mr. Dukas. -I didn't believe it. Maybe my folks can come back, too."</p> - -<p>"Your parents <i>will</i> come back," Jack Dukas affirmed. "I am the first -'memory man' to be resurrected. Among those killed who had had their -bodies and minds recorded as was recommended, about a hundred thousand -are alive again, as I think you know. Millions more are in process. One -way or another, by record or by the memories of others, in flesh of the -old kind or the new, almost everyone will return."</p> - -<p>Ed felt his father's hand. As far as he could tell, it <i>was</i> of flesh. -Yet it could be something else; Ed nearly trembled with excitement as -his eager wonder and primitive dread of the strange battled inside him. -He thought again of Mitchell Prell's first samples of vitaplasm.</p> - -<p>"Of which flesh are you, Dad?" Ed asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>His father studied him there in the twilight of the day, while the -silvery ring of lunar wreckage brightened in the sky.</p> - -<p>"The old kind, Eddie," he answered.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad," Ed said, feeling greatly relieved, a reaction which he knew -was odd for one who loved the thought of coming miracles.</p> - -<p>Jack Dukas sighed as if he had escaped a terrible fate. "So am I glad, -pal," he said. "I guess I was favored by family connections." Here he -paused, but his wink meant Uncle Mitch. "However," he continued, "the -old flesh takes so much longer. That's why in many cases it won't be -used. There must be thousands of androids already among us, living like -everybody else. Since personal concerns are involved, statistics are -kept rather confidential. These synthetic people have organs the same -as we have. And you can't recognize them just by looking. Only they're -thirty per cent heavier, stronger, and they don't tire. There was a -thought, once, that robots would make human beings obsolete and replace -them. Sorry, Eddie. Why be gruesome at a time like this? Let's patch -you up and then find your mother."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Young Ed Dukas was happier than he had ever been before. For quite a -while he found peace. Maybe that was true of most of humanity now—for -the past three or four years at least. There was no sharp delineation -of an interval before the smokes of doubt began to come back.</p> - -<p>Les Payten was still around. And Barbara Day continued to live at the -Youth Center on the hill. Often the three would meet. Their childhood -was behind them. Barbara Day's freckles had faded. Her dark hair had a -coppery glint. A promise of beauty had begun to blossom. And her talk -expressed many whimsical thoughts.</p> - -<p>"We all know each other, Eddie," she once said. "So don't be offended. -I sometimes think that you wonder whether your father is really the -same person that he was—whether he ever could be more than a careful -duplicate."</p> - -<p>Les Payten frowned. "You're speaking to me, too, Babs," he pointed out. -"I also have a 'memory father.' He's good to me, and mostly I like him. -But sometimes I get scared, though I don't always know why."</p> - -<p>Ed's skin tingled. "Could I be myself now and still be myself -in another body, years later? Could there ever be two of -me—truly—constructed exactly the same? I don't deny such a thing. I -simply don't know."</p> - -<p>But Ed Dukas continued to wonder about his father. There were several -occasions when his dad was supposed to recognize certain people, -casually encountered in the street. For they knew him.</p> - -<p>Ed was present on one of these occasions. "Sorry, friend," Jack Dukas -apologized to a burly, jovial man. "I guess they forgot to put a -picture of you inside my head."</p> - -<p>Les Payten's father was also subtly different from his original—though -in a somewhat different way. The change was even very dimly apparent -in his face. He had once been a big, easy-going, timid soul, nagged by -his wife. Now his features bore a hint of brutality. He walked with a -slight swagger. He did not roar, but the aura of power was there.</p> - -<p>Ed's mother explained the change to his father: "Memory seems not -always to match facts, Jack. Mrs. Payten fooled herself into believing -that Ronald Payten used to be a bully. So she even fooled Schaeffer's -mind-machines. And lo! Ronald Payten <i>is</i> a bully now, as far as she is -concerned. No, don't worry about her too much, Jack. She may even like -being pushed around."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the months that passed, from out on an asteroid came the -step-by-step reports of the building of the first huge star ship. At -home, one by one, old acquaintances—or was it just their reasonable -facsimiles?—reappeared. Gradually most of the dead of the lunar blowup -were restored to life—except for certain scientists who remained -unforgiven.</p> - -<p>But a new type of population was creeping into the fabric of human -society. Its humanness, in an old sense, could be debated. Its first -quiet intrusion was marked by an awe that faded into a shrug; it began -to be accepted casually and somewhat dully, as most past novelties had -been accepted before. Foresight could extend into tomorrow, but its -pictures remained not quite real. The skills of cool, clear thinking, -which education tried to impart in an era that needed it so much, fell -short again. No doubt it should have been remembered that the shift -from inattention to unreasonable panic can often be swift.</p> - -<p>Even young Ed Dukas, though dedicated in his heart to New and Coming -Things, sometimes lost sight of these deeper concerns because of his -lighter interests. Without much help from art, Barbara Day turned out -to be beautiful. She had a pair of suitors automatically. Ed could -have had his stocky frame lengthened. Les Payten could have had his -big ears trimmed. But young men often frown on the vanity of tampering -with one's appearance. Sometimes there is even a certain pride in minor -ugliness.</p> - -<p>They all had their dates, their dancing, their canoe rides—traditional -pleasures, inherited from generations past. And they had the -age-old problems of youth approaching adulthood. But now, for them -and for their increasingly complex civilization, there was a new -problem—vitaplasm, which could be grown like flesh, though faster, -impressed with a shape, personality and memories. It was said that -30 per cent of those who died in the explosion of the Moon lab were -brought back in this firmer, cheaper medium. But its use did not stop -here. For one thing, there were certain adventurous persons, alive and -healthy, who changed the character of their bodies willfully.</p> - -<p>One fact some might forget: there were other dead from years before, -but remembered and still loved—parents, grandparents. Besides, there -were historical characters—Washington, Lincoln, Edison, Cleopatra.</p> - -<p>Possibly Joe Doakes could awaken from extinction, puzzled, wondering, -frightened, but finding himself at least superficially the same, eating -much the same food, enjoying much the same things. Then something super -in his body would dawn on him, scaring him more or making him exultant. -But it all seemed good at first glance, so a joyful world forgot its -times of suspicion, even against the warnings of specialists, and -released the new processes to almost any operator who could construct -the needed equipment.</p> - -<p>The solar system was big; the universe, optimistically promised, seemed -endless. There was plenty of room. And the task of bringing back just -those who had perished with the Moon was enormous and slow. So in -cellars and out-of-the-way places countless biological technicians -tried their skill. They could not have made the grade at all if they -were stupid, and their results, generally, were good.</p> - -<p>The various Julius Caesars and Michelangelos really came into being -as novelties, side-show pieces. All were reasonable likenesses, -physically. From existing minds such traits and skills as each was -supposed to possess could be copied more or less accurately. But -none of the pseudo-great amounted to very much. They enjoyed a brief -popularity; then, assuming the costumes and customs of a changed world, -they sank into nonentity among the populace. Like most of those of the -new flesh, they kept this secret as if by intuitive prudence. The many -people restored in normal protoplasm were less reticent.</p> - -<p>That there were androids around him, known, suspected and unrecognized -as such, was a thrilling idea to Ed Dukas. It was part of the onward -march to greater wonders—or so it seemed to him most of the time. -Eager to understand how they thought and felt, he sought them out -cautiously, not wishing to offend. Usually his efforts were met with -coolness and evasion—which perhaps gave them away.</p> - -<p>But then Ed met a very special memory man. He wasn't the copy of -somebody famous. He was just a humorous legend. Yet now perhaps he -was the right kind of personality striking against the right sort of -circumstances to produce the type of action and fire that could affect -the existing era.</p> - -<p>Ed and his two friends, Les Payten and Barbara Day, found him in a -little park feeding pigeons. Or, rather, <i>he</i> found them. For in -conformity with an ancient village belief that no one should be a -stranger to anyone else, he grinned at them and said, "Hello, there! -Nice young fellers. Nice girl! Sit and gab a while? I keep gettin' -lonesome. Mixed up. Got to get straightened out. Or try, anyway. Put -yourselves down? That's fine!"</p> - -<p>Abashed and curious after that, Ed and Barbara and Les sat and mostly -just listened.</p> - -<p>"Been around these times three months. Scared stiff at first. Thought -I was addled. Know somethin'? I can remember all the way back to -1870. It's a fake, sure. No, they didn't make me look young, or -even give me all my teeth. Afraid of spoiling 'verisimilitude,' my -great-great-great-something-grandson-supposed-to-be said. I'm a family -brag. Look what I keep carrying around with me. One of the first -editions of <i>Huck Finn</i>. They found this tintype of a feller inside -it. Illinois farmer. And look at this here writing in the front of the -book. 'Property of Abel Freeman.' So I'm supposed to be him, slouch hat -and all—funny, I can't get used to anything else. So I write just like -that. This tintype and the writing are the only solid clues about what -the original Abel Freeman was really like. Up to there, I'm him. The -rest is mostly storybook stuff, and the idea the family has that their -ancestor was a kind of pixilated hellion—the sort some folks like to -tell about. Some way for a man to be born, huh? Shucks, I can even -remember the night I was supposed to have died. Drunk, and kicked in -the belly by my own mule, because he didn't like my smell. Hell, I bet -in real life that mule would of plum enjoyed whisky!"</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman stopped talking. He turned pale gray eyes set in a face -that looked like brown leather toward his audience with expectant -amusement, as if he understood the eerie impression he'd made on them -and was curious about their reactions.</p> - -<p>Barbara took the lead. "We're surely glad to know you, Mr. Freeman," -she said, shaking his big brown paw and unconsciously aping his manner -of speech. "I'm sure you could tell us plum more. What's the world ever -coming to?"</p> - -<p>His grip, for an instant, was almost literally like that of a vise. But -when Barbara winced with pain, his hand relaxed, and his look became -honestly gentle and apologetic, though it retained a certain slyness of -tricks being played or unprecedented power being demonstrated.</p> - -<p>"Oh, excuse me, lady!" he drawled. "This first Abel Freeman—he was -supposed to be a very strong and vigorous man. Me—naturally I'm even a -lot stronger. Sometimes I just forget. But I try to be right courtly. -There, I'll rub your fingers. Hope I didn't break no bones."</p> - -<p>Barbara laughed a bit nervously. "No, Mr. Freeman—I'm fine," she -assured him, nodding her dark head. "Now, if you'll tell us—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes—about what the world and everything is coming to," Abel -Freeman went on, his tone more languid than his eyes. "Well, matters -could get mighty rough. I've been studying up—thinking. When I first -got to these times, I didn't like them. Everything seemed addled. -Guess I was homesick. I kind of resented being made the cheap way, -too. But even way back in the years I remember, they used to say that -maybe there'd be flying machines or even balloons to the Moon. So I -perked up and got acclimated, and said to myself, 'Abel, my boy, take -what's given to you and don't whine, even though you weren't asked if -you wanted to come here. And with all that can be done now, why not -bring your old woman and her chewing tobacco? And your four ornery -sons? Nat was the worst. And Nancy, your daughter, who was an unholy -terror? Of course this family that you recollect so good probably don't -match historical fact so much, being just romanticized, mostly made-up -memories put into your head. But they're plum real to you. Guess when -they synthesized you, they should have left those recollections out. -Because you love that family of yours, ornery or not, and would be -happy to see its members again.' And I said to myself besides, 'Abel, -bein' made the cheap way has got plenty of advantages. You're strong -as a dozen regular men, and you won't need rejuvenation, because -you'll never get any older. You'll heal even if you're hurt something -terrible. Trouble is, your kind'll be some mighty stiff competition for -the present holders of the land. Of course people want to get along -peaceably—even your sort, Abel. But plenty of folks will wind up -trusting your sort no more than they'd trust a billygoat under a line -of wash. Yep, I'm afraid there's gonna be some mighty interesting days -coming!'"</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman ended his conversation almost dreamily. He'd hung his -slouch hat on the corner of the bench back. In his iron-gray hair, the -sun picked out reddish glints. His gaze, which might have been designed -especially for precision squirrel-shooting, wandered down a path that -curved along the park lake.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas found him a fascinating mixture of old romance and comedy, -artfully concealing the most recent of wonders, the dark channels of -which held the potentials of great centuries to come, or mindless -silence after destruction. The treachery was not in Abel Freeman -himself but in the fact of his being.</p> - -<p>Ed's mouth was dry. "You're honest, Mr. Freeman," he said.</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman answered this with a nod and a shrug. "Funny," he drawled. -"Thought I saw a young feller I was sort of expecting. A congenial -enemy, name of Tom Granger. Look, suppose you three sidekicks of mine -get on your feet nice and easy, and walk the other way on that path. It -would be safer. Not too far. Just a piece."</p> - -<p>This might have been an armed robber's command, but Ed sensed that it -was nothing like that. Without a word, he led Les and Barbara away.</p> - -<p>There was a blinding, blue-white flash. The bench on which they had -been sitting was gone—vaporized by fearful heat. Incandescent vapors -rose from a big hole in the turf. When condensed and solidified, they -would show little flecks of gold transmuted from soil. These were the -effects of the familiar Midas Touch pistol. It used lighter atoms to -form heavier ones, while it converted a little of the total mass into -energy.</p> - -<p>Freeman must have leaped away at just the right instant to avoid -destruction. With astonishing agility, he was pursuing his intended -murderer. As Freeman sprang to the youth's shoulders, they both fell -in a heap on the walk and slid to a stop. Freeman's hand flicked, and -the weapon flew into the bushes.</p> - -<p>By then Ed and Barbara and Les were standing over the prone forms. -Freeman was unruffled.</p> - -<p>"Friends," he said, laughing, "meet up with a young one with a sharp -viewpoint and lots of guts in his own way. Yep, Tom Granger."</p> - -<p>Granger was panting heavily. His mass of black hair streamed down over -his thin face. He looked scarcely older than Ed or Les, but these -days that meant little. In repose, his large, dark eyes might have -been limpid and idealistic; now they flashed fury. His shabbiness was -affected. Certainly, in this era, there were no reasons for poverty.</p> - -<p>Now he began to struggle again, in Freeman's grasp. Futilely, of -course. "Yes, I have guts!" he declared. "I wanted to kill you, -Freeman—with whatever means that are left that can still accomplish -that with things like you! I wanted the incident to get into the -newscast—yes, to give me public attention. And not for any stupid -vanity, but for the best purpose there ever was. I wanted a chance to -be listened to, while I tell what everyone must have begun to sense by -now. Damn you, Freeman! Let me up!"</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman smirked indulgently and obliged.</p> - -<p>Granger rose lamely but gamely. "You seem to be impromptu acquaintances -of this Abel Freeman," he said to Ed and his companions. "He has -feelings, he thinks; he's even a good person. In some ways he's just -an interesting rogue of the nineteenth century. But he's a device. And -unless something is done, we'll be as obsolete as the dinosaur! Our -science serves us no longer. It serves other masters, nearer to its -meaning. Others than I have realized it. In every two houses this side -of the world there is already an average of one of these creatures of -vitaplasm. Is Earth to be kept for us, and for the joy of being human; -or are we to become—basically, and no matter how humanized—mere -synthetic mechanisms, trading our birthright for a few mechanical -advantages?"</p> - -<p>The shot from the Midas Touch pistol was drawing a crowd. An -approaching police siren wailed.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Granger fixed his eyes on Ed in surprise and recognition. -"Dukas," he said. "Let me see—Edward Dukas. At a time when the world -was more reasonably watchful, your house was under surveillance. As a -possible means of contacting one Mitchell Prell—who had his hand in -what once happened to us, and perhaps in what is happening now. How -does it feel, Dukas, to be so close to such a celebrity? Ah, maybe -you're shy!"</p> - -<p>Flattening out Granger again would have been no useful answer to Ed's -memories of bitter wrongs. He smiled briefly at him.</p> - -<p>"Come see me some evening when you don't feel so much like making a -monkey of someone, because someone has just made a monkey out of you," -he said.</p> - -<p>Then he hustled his companions away. "There's no good in getting -involved in public confusion," he told them. "Anyhow not till we talk -things out and get them straight."</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later they were in a quiet restaurant.</p> - -<p>"Abel Freeman," Les Payten said. "He was quite a surprise at that."</p> - -<p>"Rather, more of a pointing out of facts we already knew," Barbara -remarked.</p> - -<p>"The old robot-peril come true," Less said pensively. "Humanity -threatened to be replaced, not by clanking giants of metal, simple and -melodramatic, but by beings much more refined—though they are perhaps -much the same thing. My own father is one of them."</p> - -<p>"There's truth in what Granger said," Ed pointed out. "There's that -dread of being shouldered out of the way by something strange and -tougher. I can feel it too. Granger can certainly make use of it, -preaching. He's clever. But he's the worst kind of fool."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, hammering on the detonator cap of the entire Earth," Les said, -breathing softly.</p> - -<p>The three friends, sitting around a table under soft lights and in -pleasant surroundings, looked at one another. The food before them was -good, the music was quiet and soothing. But at eye level, in the air -where their glances passed, seemed to hang all the elements of the -complex civilization to which they belonged: its luxury and beauty, its -climbing technology that could conquer death and reach for other solar -systems, but by the same or related forces could dissolve worlds, -especially if mankind, at the top, lost control of itself.</p> - -<p>"I thought things would go along smoothly and reasonably," Barbara -offered. "There's certainly plenty of room for both people and -androids. I took all of that more or less on faith. But I'm afraid I'm -wrong. After all, how can human beings live beside beings that blend -indistinguishably with the mass and yet are stronger, quicker?"</p> - -<p>Ed remembered signs of friction that he'd heard about. A minor riot -here or there. He remembered public statements by specialists like -Schaeffer admitting that some confusion was on the way but declaring -that in the end everything should be better for everyone. Those -specialists had the calculators, the great electronic thought-machines, -digesting trends, making profound predictions. But then there was -another thought—had many of those scientists already converted their -own bodies to a stronger medium?</p> - -<p>Ed saw that Les Payten had a faint sweat of strain on his forehead, -though he knew that Les was no nervous coward. His sullen poise just -after the lunar explosion long ago had proved that.</p> - -<p>"Maybe the worst of all," Les was saying, "is the sense of being -carried along, swiftly and helplessly, by things that are too big -and complicated. You wish you could find a ledge somewhere in the -time-stream and stop for a while to get your bearings. Sometimes you -feel that you are in a one-way tunnel where you have to keep moving. -Is there light at the end of the tunnel? Maybe it's just a matter of -personal adjustment—a taking of whatever comes."</p> - -<p>"I feel as though we're at the threshold of some terrible danger, Ed," -Barbara said. "What can we do about it?"</p> - -<p>He saw how strong and earnest she looked, and it reassured him. He -touched her hand briefly. "I don't know exactly," he said. "But -I'm for holding course toward the bigger future that stirred me up -with big dreams of the planets, of the stars. And I'm in favor of -being <i>reasonable</i>. I've seen too much hate and fear and unreason in -people. The way things are, it doesn't have to be a lot of people any -more—just a few gone a little crazy. The Moon blew up by accident. -A world was gone. But what happened by accident can certainly happen -by design or with the aid of fury. So, everywhere we go we can talk -against fury and panic, and <i>for</i> reason. To our friends, and in the -streets. Everywhere that we can, and to everyone. Small as that effort -is, it might help."</p> - -<p>Solemnly the three friends shook hands and agreed to work out the -details of a plan.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="III" id="III">III</a></h2> - - -<p>That same night, at his home in the suburbs, Ed Dukas read an article -that had especially attracted his attention. Could vitaplasm be -grown into forms unknown before? Could it be shaped from a plan—a -blueprint—like the metal and plastic forming a machine? Heart here, -lungs there, nervous system arranged so? Scaly armor, long, creeping -body? Or wings that fluttered through the air? The author saw no reason -why this could not happen. Monstrous things. Ed Dukas chuckled at the -melodramatic idea. But he suspected that it was far from impossible.</p> - -<p>Young Dukas also had a caller that night.</p> - -<p>"You said I should come to see you," Tom Granger told him when they -were alone in Ed's room. Ed was on guard at once.</p> - -<p>His visitor's mood seemed to have changed since the afternoon.</p> - -<p>"Sorry if I seemed out of line today," Granger said. "My motives are -good. And I didn't want to insult you."</p> - -<p>"Thanks," Ed responded shortly. "But you didn't come here just to tell -me that. How does it happen that you're not in jail?"</p> - -<p>"Abel Freeman discreetly pressed no charges. I wish he had. But, like -you, he just disappeared. There was only that hole in the ground—made -by the Midas Touch pistol—a feeble thing to admit for a publicity -showdown. So I kept still, and the police couldn't hold me. Fact is, -most of them seem sympathetic to what I stand for—the venerable human -privilege of walking on one's own green planet as a natural animal, -loving one's wife and children in the ancient, simple manner."</p> - -<p>Granger was a good orator. Mysteriously, Ed was faintly moved. Perhaps -the gentle argument was too plain and clear. But Ed remained wary of -the traps of language and feeling, and of perhaps impractical dreams.</p> - -<p>His anger sharpened. Then, knowing the possibly deadly quality of anger -in these times and wishing to counteract that everywhere, he yearned -desperately to be a master psychologist, always calm and smiling and -supremely persuasive. But he could not be like that. He was too human -and limited. Maybe too primitive.</p> - -<p>"You still haven't told me why you came here, Granger," he said coldly. -"Why have you passed up a chance for public shouting to come and talk -to me?"</p> - -<p>Granger smiled. "You're clever enough, Dukas, to know that to win -the nephew of Mitchell Prell over to my way of thinking could be to -my advantage before that public. Or that, if I can't make friends -with him, at least knowing him better might help. Even the latter -circumstance could be like having a finger on a whole set of -advantages when the showdown between human beings and androids finally -comes. Oh, I admire Prell! A great man—if he <i>was</i> a man when last -seen! But his kind of greatness is poison, Dukas—though millions with -short memories have foolishly forgiven him. But if he ever turns up -again, you'll know it, and so, perhaps, will I—before he can do any -further damage. You surely must realize that he bears a double guilt: -for the blowup and for the development of vitaplasm!"</p> - -<p>Granger's smile was savage and hopeful.</p> - -<p>Ed laughed in his face. "You think that secretly I might hate Mitchell -Prell, eh, Granger? But he was the idol of my childhood, a whimsical, -friendly little man. So I'm stuck with loyalty. But even if I hated him -blackly, I wouldn't come over to your side. I don't like the way you -think. Until the blowup happened, it was bravo for science and empire. -Afterward, your hysterical soul was free from blame and white as snow, -and he was guilty. Maybe I judge you wrongly. I hope I do. But the way -I add it up, it's not the androids or any other new and inevitable -development that is the big danger; it's people like you, though maybe -you don't realize it. Loudmouths who stir up confusion, animosity, -hatred. Maybe I ought to kill you. Then there'd be one less spark in -the powder barrel!"</p> - -<p>"Why don't you?" Granger mocked. "There'd still be others. And I'd be -brought back."</p> - -<p>Ed nodded. "The benefits of our civilization," he said. "How would you -like to be an android? Does the idea scare you? You know, Granger, -some people say that, regardless of how you're returned to the living, -you're not the same person you were but only a superficially exact -duplicate."</p> - -<p>"You know I'd always choose to be human, Dukas," Granger muttered, -looking almost terrified.</p> - -<p>"Sure, Granger," Ed taunted. "You're not afraid of death—the knowledge -that science can restore you gives you courage. You can take the -benefits of scientific advancement, can't you? But assuming its -responsibilities is another thing."</p> - -<p>"I'm not dodging responsibility! I'm grabbing it, Dukas! I'm striking -out for sane control. I've done things already! While I worked in the -vaults, where personal recordings are kept, certain of those little -cylinders disappeared. They won't be found again! Some men don't -deserve that much protection against mishap—among them your uncle! I'm -proud of this, and I boast of it! No, don't accuse me! Even an official -complaint would be challenged by many people and then buried in a heap -of red tape. I can be a dirty fighter, Dukas; and I'll bite and kill -and kick and holler my lungs out to keep this planet from going to the -machines!"</p> - -<p>The wild look in Granger's face was the thing that prompted Ed to -action. The admission of the theft only emphasized the ghoulish -determination that was there. The only hope seemed in smashing that ego -out of existence—for a while at least.</p> - -<p>Ed chuckled. "So you'd take even the essence of people's selves," he -said.</p> - -<p>Granger's gaze didn't waver. "If every last thing I hold dear—and -which I believe most real human beings hold dear in like manner—were -in danger, I'd do anything."</p> - -<p>"So would I," Ed said grimly.</p> - -<p>Then he struck and struck and struck again. Blood spurted from -Granger's smashed lips and nose, as he crashed to the floor, struggled -to his feet and fell again.</p> - -<p>There was movement at the door of the room. From behind, Ed was gripped -by a strength greater than his own. "Stop it, Ed," he was commanded -quietly. It was his father.</p> - -<p>Through bloodied lips, Granger was explaining hurriedly, "Your son -and I disagree. He lost his temper. All I ask is that the good parts -of science—medical and so forth—be kept and the rest banned. And -that life become simple. A thing of fields and flowers, and wholesome -physical work. And not a mechanized bedlam, full of constant danger and -tension."</p> - -<p>Granger sounded very earnest, Ed thought. Maybe he was earnest. Maybe -he was a good actor.</p> - -<p>"Ban this, ban that!" Ed shouted. "No one ever lived happily under -the kind of artificial bans you mean, Granger! And what will you do -with the billions of people who disagree with your pretty vision? -Some of them will hate what you advocate as much as you hate existing -circumstances! And if modern weapons are once used...."</p> - -<p>"Quiet, Ed," his father said softly. "You've assaulted your guest—one -who, as far as I can see, has the most reasonable of views. A beautiful -picture. I agree with it myself—entirely."</p> - -<p>"Look, Dad," Ed began. "This Granger here is trying to solve today's -and tomorrow's problems with yesterday's poor answers."</p> - -<p>Ed stopped. He had an odd thought: his synthetic father had been -created largely from his and his mother's memories, at a terrible -time of grief, when his mother's reactions had turned against the -groping toward the stars. Before that, Dad had been somewhat averse to -mechanization. But now he was distinctly more so, as if that grief and -aversion had marked him.</p> - -<p>Jack Dukas was now medicating Granger's face with antiseptics while -Granger preached, as if from some deep font of a new wisdom: "You see, -Mr. Dukas, again, as in the past, danger is creeping up on us without -receiving serious attention. Beings that are really robots are already -controlling part of their own production. Their creation, everywhere, -should be banned or stamped out. Existing androids should be converted -to flesh or destroyed.... I'll go now. Thank you for your help. But I -think I'll get in touch with your son occasionally. He needs guidance."</p> - -<p>Ed nodded grimly. "Perhaps I do," he said. "Maybe everyone does. You -watch me and I'll watch you, eh?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>During the succeeding months Ed did his best to spread his doctrine -of calm and reason, working against the agitation which he knew was -already well under way. Les Payten and Barbara Day were with him in -this. All over the world there were others, mostly unknown to them, -but with the same ideas: "Use your head.... Don't put fear before -knowledge.... Do you <i>know</i> an android? What is his name? Maybe Miller -or Johnson? You must know a few. And do they think so differently from -yourself? Yes, there are problems and no doubt prejudice. It may even -be justified. But the answers to our difficulties must be cool-minded. -Everyone knows why."</p> - -<p>Ed and his companions talked in this manner to their acquaintances, -spoke on street corners, sent letters to newscast agencies. And they -won many people over. The trouble was that they, and others like them, -could not reach everybody.</p> - -<p>Their Earth remained beautiful. There were hazy hills covered with -trees; there were soaring spires. The unrest was an undercurrent.</p> - -<p>This was a time of choosing of sides, and of buildup, while there was -a sense of helpless slipping onward toward what few could truly want. -Voices with another, harsher message were raised. Tom Granger was -hardly alone there, either. Tracts were passed out as part of their -method: <i>What Is Our Heritage?</i>; <i>The Right to Be Human</i>; <i>Technology -Versus Wisdom</i>. Perhaps directly out of such a mixture of truth and -crude thinking the assassinations began. There were thousands in -scattered places.</p> - -<p>One day Ed Dukas pushed into a knot of curious onlookers and saw the -body of one of the first of these. There, in the same park where Ed had -first met Abel Freeman, it had been found in the early morning. A Midas -Touch blast had torn it in half.</p> - -<p>"It's Howard Besser, a machinist who lives in the same building with -me," a man in the crowd offered. "He died once in the lunar explosion. -Now it happened again. That's no joke, even though he can be brought -back."</p> - -<p>Ed saw the victim's torn flesh. It <i>looked</i> like flesh. But broken -bones had little metallic glints in them. Could you avoid remembering -that, mated to like, these beings of vitaplasm could even reproduce -their kind, to help increase their number? Had persons like Tom Granger -planned even this dramatization of a difference? Bits of this flesh -still squirmed, hours after violence.</p> - -<p>Granger had made progress. Growing public attention had won him the -privilege of orating on the newscast. It was he who had first talked -about vampires and androids—together, and to a world-wide audience. He -also accomplished an important part in winning the legal suppression of -labs creating human forms in vitaplasm.</p> - -<p>"It was desecration," he declared in his speech. "It is a tragedy -that we could not clamp down the lid sooner. There are an estimated -seventy million of these 'improvements on nature' now in existence. -And there are many hidden establishments still producing more. Can we -ever destroy them all? It is criminal to lock a human soul in such -substance. If, of course, the soul truly remains human, as it was meant -to be...."</p> - -<p>Granger's voice was always gentle. Yet to his listeners it suggested -dark, lonesome places where there is danger. Which was true. For now -other killings had started. Familiar human blood was spilled.</p> - -<p>On a pavement Ed saw a grim legend smeared in red beside a corpse: -"WHO WILL INHERIT THE UNIVERSE? RETRIBUTION. ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES -ANOTHER."</p> - -<p>Scattered throughout the Americas, Europe and the Westernized Orient -were millions more of such murders. The result was a trading of grim -goods, with the far hardier android winning in the tally. And that -winning was a threat. It could seem a promise to man of the end of his -era. So here was another spur to hysteria, always mounting higher.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas and his friends stayed on at the University. They studied -with the efficient help of the sensipsych machine and its vividly real -visions, which could demonstrate as real experiences almost any skill, -from the playing of an antique Viennese zither to the probing of the -inner structure of a star. They also put in scattered hours of work -in the factories, whose products still aimed at empire in the spatial -distance. But above all they kept on with their appeals for reason. -Their success was great. In the main, people were reasonable and -clearheaded. But a total winning-over was far from possible.</p> - -<p>Noted men such as Schaeffer were shouting on the newscast. Shouting for -calm—increasing the tinny babble of the choosing of sides.</p> - -<p>More and more, Ed Dukas began to lose faith in the Big Future.</p> - -<p>"Maybe we should have kept still," he said to Les Payten and Barbara -Day. "We only added our small faggot to the fire."</p> - -<p>His friends laughed with him—ruefully—as they walked together across -the campus.</p> - -<p>Some minutes later Les Payten nodded to them, and, with a half smile, -said, "So long for now. Don't lose any sleep—not over worries, anyhow."</p> - -<p>He sauntered off. In matters of love, Les was a good loser.</p> - -<p>Barbara Day had taken a little apartment on a tree-lined street. It -was nice to walk there in the twilight. Not far from the apartment -a half-acre of ground had been allowed to grow wild with trees and -bushes, for contrast to the surrounding sleek neatness.</p> - -<p>There, in the thick shadows, Ed Dukas saw sinuous movement. He had -a fleeting glimpse of something long and winding, and perhaps half -as thick as his body. Then he saw it again—saw its weird glow, saw -the interlocking hexagonal plates that covered it everywhere. But it -did not suggest a gigantic snake at all. For one thing, its mode of -locomotion was different—a rippling movement of thousands of little -prongs on its undersides seemed to be involved in its principle. -It hurried quietly now for cover. Rhododendron bushes parted. It -disappeared behind a great oak.</p> - -<p>Barbara and Ed rushed forward. The grass bore no marks. Prudently, they -did not venture into the dark undergrowth.</p> - -<p>Ed's skin prickled all over and felt too small for him. "This is it," -he said in a flat tone.</p> - -<p>"<i>What</i>, Ed?"</p> - -<p>"Life plotted on the engineer's drawing board. Vitaplasm. The days when -nature designed all animals are over, I'm afraid."</p> - -<p>"What would it be for, Ed?"</p> - -<p>"How would I really know? Want to guess?"</p> - -<p>"To create more terror maybe?" Barbara said. "What else? To go around -at night—to stir people up with a horror that they've never known -before. They'll realize it's vitaplasm, the stuff of the androids too. -They'll link hatreds. Maybe it's another trick—a propaganda stunt -to force the fight to the finish. A stunt invented by somebody like -Granger."</p> - -<p>"It seems to fit the pattern," Ed said hoarsely. "You're probably -right. But this thing could have been made by the other side, too. The -android side. As a means of reprisal. I've admired them. But I don't -especially trust <i>their</i> judgment, either."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas felt sick. He wondered now how much longer anything on Earth -could last.</p> - -<p>Barbara touched his arm gently. "Ed, we should notify the police. For -the safety of the neighborhood."</p> - -<p>"Of course. And you won't stay out here alone tonight. You'll put up at -a hotel, or I'll bunk on your floor."</p> - -<p>Barbara managed to laugh. "The building is stout. My window is high. -There are plenty of tenants. I'm not dangerously stupid and I don't -swoon. But I rather like the idea of having you close by."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ed Dukas had no trouble convincing the police that he had seen -something extraordinary—which was proof enough that there had been -other calls, previously. Ed slept a few hours on a divan, listening, -while, outside, armed men patrolled the streets and watched the backs -of buildings, which were kept brilliantly illuminated. Floodlights -lighted up that shaggy wood lot like day. Low, flat robot vehicles -plowed through it.</p> - -<p>Nothing was found.</p> - -<p>But miles away, nearer the city, there were a dozen dead—all of them -of the old order of life. They were crushed. Not a bone in their bodies -was intact. They had been dragged from their beds while they slept.</p> - -<p>Horror swept through the city. The monster or monsters had been seen. -They were of the same substance as the androids. Therefore, this was an -android attack, clear and simple—to minds blurred by fear and fury.</p> - -<p>Scared, angry faces surrounded Ed Dukas in the streets the next -morning. The coldness in him was like a stone behind his heart. He -seemed to be hurled along by time, helpless to change its course. Even -Barbara looked sullen and confused, though, walking beside him, she -tried to sound cheerfully rational.</p> - -<p>"You know, we could all be changed over into androids. I wonder if you -or I would ever want that? I think that even you are not especially -sympathetic to them, except as something new and potentially great. -Damn! I wish my wits were clearer. An android is a refined machine, you -might say. But to be a human being is to be a thing of soul—is that -it? A creature of tradition and pride, of sentiment."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas shrugged. He felt bone and brain weary.</p> - -<p>That same day there were bloody riots in scattered localities—much -worse trouble than before. It seemed like the start of an avalanche.</p> - -<p>That afternoon another incident happened. Les Payten came to meet his -friends again in their favorite restaurant. They sat chatting glumly -and listening to the newscast. The androids—"The Phonies," they were -already being called—were slipping away to the hills, for safety and -also no doubt to gather their own not inconsiderable numbers, and to -entrench themselves.</p> - -<p>Les Payten was called to the phone. He came back after a minute, saying -with a puzzled expression, and almost a cynical smile, "My father -committed suicide. He left a note: 'Eternity is a joke. And I'm sick of -being a robot. But what's the good of being a man, either—now?' Burned -himself wide open with a Midas Touch pistol. I guess the ultimate -cruelty would be to bring him back."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That night there were three times as many crushed bodies as the night -before. But there were far more deaths caused by other violent means. -Two weeks passed, each day worse than the preceding. Neighbors started -hurling imprecations at neighbors: "Test-tube monkey!... Obsolete -imbecile!..."</p> - -<p>Once there was a news report: "Equipment found—a power generator of -a type and output similar to that for a star ship, but obviously for -another purpose: meant, it seems, to power high-energy weapons of the -beam type. Is this an android or a human assembly? The equipment was -ordered dismantled. It was found in a large basement in the City."</p> - -<p>And Tom Granger began his broadcasts again: "Androids—your numbers -are relatively few. You could not win against us. And we would take -you back—kindly—to become people again. Most of you once were human -beings. You were meant to be that..." Granger's tone was softer; it was -condescending.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas phoned Granger at the newscast studio. After a long wait, he -managed to contact him. That Granger agreed to speak to him at all was -no doubt due to Ed's relationship to Mitchell Prell.</p> - -<p>"Granger," he said, "I'm pleading. Please, forget that you know how to -say anything. No, I don't want to offend you—but it's just no good. -I'm not guessing—I've seen. To some you may be a great leader. To -others—well—you're a lot less. So do us a favor—again, please! Go -away, disappear. Take a long, silent rest in a place unknown."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas was desperate, grasping at straws. For a fleeting moment his -hope almost convinced him that his mixture of begging and ridicule -might work.</p> - -<p>"Do I know you? Oh, yes, Dukas!" Granger mocked. "We should converse -again when we both have the time. You still need instruction, I see. -You are an incorrigible lover of fantastic novelty, Edward Dukas! Now -you're frightened."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am frightened!" Ed replied, calmly now. "If you weren't a fool -and a fanatic, you could guess that millions of androids—supermen, -some call them—could not be weak."</p> - -<p>"Goodbye for the present, Dukas." Granger broke the connection.</p> - -<p>Ed rubbed his face with his hands. He thought of the sinuous thing -he had once seen, and of the killing that it—and other things not -necessarily of the same shape but of the same substance—had done. -Could Granger be one of those who sought to stir up more dread and fury -with lab-created monsters of vitaplasm? Should he try first to find out -who was using and directing them?</p> - -<p>It would be slow work. So, that same afternoon, he chose another path -which might lead to quicker results. He went looking for old Abel -Freeman, who he guessed was of the sort to be a leader among his kind. -By asking around, he located the house where Freeman was said to live. -But the picturesque android had long since vacated his lodgings.</p> - -<p>Ed gathered Les Payten and Barbara.</p> - -<p>"Freeman will be in the hills somewhere," Barbara pointed out. "With -others like him. What if, for a lark, we rent a helicopter, and see if -we can find him? What can we lose?"</p> - -<p>"We're near the end of our rope," Les said. "I'm willing to try -anything."</p> - -<p>It was a crazy stunt, but they agreed on it. Ed had picked up some -information about where Freeman might be found, plus a few facts of his -recent history. Naturally, Freeman had a bad reputation.</p> - -<p>Arriving over the wooded mountain country where Freeman had often been -seen in the past, Ed let his craft settle into various forest glades, -one after another. At first they saw no one, although certainly many -androids had now retreated into this wilderness.</p> - -<p>However, after they had made a dozen tries in as many places, Freeman -himself suddenly appeared, dirty, covered with burrs, but dressed now -in coveralls of modern vintage. A Midas Touch pistol was in his belt.</p> - -<p>"Hello!" he greeted. "Yes, I know you three young ones! Are you lost?"</p> - -<p>"We're here for neighborly conversation," Ed began.</p> - -<p>"That's mighty nice," Freeman mocked with a twinkle in his hard blue -eyes. "Could be you're here just to snoop. Could be me and the boys -should do you in."</p> - -<p>"Could be we <i>are</i> here to snoop—to learn a little better what's going -on, that is," Ed replied. "And we're also here in the hope of finding -somebody with good sense and wits and influence enough to keep this -planet from becoming another Asteroid Belt."</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman's glance held a certain sparkle of admiration when he -glanced at Ed; then it turned grim.</p> - -<p>"You couldn't mean me," he said. "Figured on going around, minding -my own business, without being crowded. Got crowded plenty, though, -closer to the City. Gettin' crowded here, too. Had to smash up quite -a few people. Don't figure on taking it for good. Lucky we were made -cheap. Couldn't stand it, otherwise. Hiding in the brush. Eating -sticks. Hardly ever sleeping. Lucky we can't catch pneumonia. We could -stand conditions far worse than this—but it gets awful tiresome. Seen -Granger lately?"</p> - -<p>"You can smell him most everywhere," Ed answered bitterly.</p> - -<p>There was a loud explosion a hundred yards to the left. A Midas Touch -blast. Ed felt the shock-pressure of it and held his breath until the -radiation-tainted vapors cooled and blew away.</p> - -<p>"That's Nat, the hellcat of my boys," Abel Freeman remarked casually. -Then he shouted, "Nat—you damnfool—don't you know there's company?"</p> - -<p>Then Ed and his companions saw them—a beetle-browed foursome peering -from the brush. The Freeman boys. They looked like a quartet of -Neanderthals. But in a way they were less human than Neanderthal -men. For they were the crystallization, via science and vitaplasm, -of someone's romanticized and comic conception of the vigor of his -ancestors.</p> - -<p>Behind them now appeared a girl with pale golden skin and eyes whose -slant suggested the beauty of a leopard. This would be Freeman's -daughter, the inestimable Nancy. There was also a leathery crone, -mother of the pack, and wife of Abel.</p> - -<p>Nat Freeman fired the Midas Touch again. Obviously he wasn't trying for -accuracy. In fact, he must have miscalculated some. For the wind blew -the radioactive vapors against Les Payten, standing a little to one -side. He screamed once, writhing in their hot clutch, and collapsed.</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman, the android renegade, rushed unharmed through those -vapors. Only his clothes charred. "Nat, you stop playin'!" he ordered. -"And as for you three young ones—you haven't got the sense you talk -about! Coming here? You're enemies. And you're weak as daisies! No, I -don't figure I'd ever want to be your kind, even without the raw deal I -got! Lots better to be a devil in the woods until we can come out—if -there's anything left to come out of, or to! Now get out of here -fast—before my family gets annoyed."</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman lifted Les Payten's hideously burned body into the -helicopter and then held the door open for Ed and Barbara. "You better -take care of this fellow right away," Freeman said. "Now get on your -way!"</p> - -<p>Ed guided the craft toward the City, where Les would certainly spend -several weeks in a lab tank before his injured flesh was back to -normal. Les kept muttering in semi-delirium, "Damned robots. Freeman, -too. And damned, ornery people. Got to pick between them, don't we? -So maybe zero will cancel zero. Can't stay on the fence all the time. -Sorry, when the going gets rough, I'm for the people. Peaceful common -sense? There just isn't any."</p> - -<p>Les's voice sounded like a dirge for two races.</p> - -<p>Barbara said, "Maybe he's right. There isn't any sense left. Only a -picking of sides for battle. Our efforts went to waste."</p> - -<p>She sounded remote, almost unfriendly. Ed suddenly felt that he was -losing her, too.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="IV" id="IV">IV</a></h2> - - -<p>That was a bad evening for Ed Dukas. He left Barbara at her house, -which was now guarded. But he did not get home easily. For that was the -evening trouble became general. John Jones of old-time flesh and blood, -and George Smith of vitaplasm forgot all their politeness and let their -smoldering thoughts come to the surface:</p> - -<p>"So now you brew up monsters like yourselves, to attack us. I wouldn't -be like you if it was the last way to be alive."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, brother? Those creatures must be yours. What makes you so -good? Born with your own hide, eh? The elite. With jelly for insides, -and a mean nature."</p> - -<p>Talk swiftly led to flying fists. But who could hurt an android -with a human fist? Before their hardened knuckles a human jaw could -become mush. Still, there were heavier primitive weapons. Then, by -progression, weapons that were not so primitive.</p> - -<p>Ed didn't try any more to quell the trouble. He watched it, walked -around it and away from it. The wise and careful thinking that he had -been taught to believe in seemed to have deserted his kind. The stars -were only a remote fancy, lost in the chaos of local emotion. Feeling -beaten, Ed finally got home.</p> - -<p>This was the evening when he told himself that anything could happen -at any moment—that morning might not even come. On the newscast, he -heard the report that the first star ship—to be aimed perhaps at -Proxima Centauri or Sirius—was within weeks of completion out there -on its asteroid. There were infinite heights to this era of his. And -terrifying depths.</p> - -<p>This was the evening when, fearing that the spoken word could no longer -be heard through the din of clashing hatreds, Ed Dukas decided to write -letters.</p> - -<p>He meant to begin with a letter to Les and then write to his father, -whose eyes had turned backward toward archaic simplicities. He wanted -to write to Granger, asking again for calm. But he had only completed a -few paragraphs to Les when that kid nickname of his appeared on a blank -sheet of his paper. From nowhere:</p> - -<p>"<i>Nipper.</i>"</p> - -<p>Only Mitchell Prell, unheard from for ten years, had ever called him -that. His uncle. A likable little man, tainted by accusations, but -part of the once thrilling thoughts of the future. Mitchell Prell -had belonged to the onward surging and reaching of science—and its -stumbling. The lunar blowup had come as a forerunner of the first leap -to the stars. And the human-and-android animosity had resulted from the -mastery of the forces of life. Wonder becoming horror. White turning -black. Till you hardly knew what to believe in, except that, being -alive, you had to go on trying to make things right.</p> - -<p>For an hour Ed Dukas sat in his room. Nothing more appeared on the -paper which he had clamped under his microscope. "<i>Nipper.</i>" That -was all. Silly name of his childhood. Often he looked around him, -as though expecting someone to appear. Several times he said softly, -"Uncle Mitch, you must be here, someplace...."</p> - -<p>There was no answer.</p> - -<p>The muttering tumult in the streets—the shouts, the occasional rush of -feet, the curses and yells—masked the arrival of Tom Granger. Ed was -startled from his preoccupation to find Granger almost at his elbow. -With him was a man who looked like a plain-clothes police official. In -the background, grim and frightened, was Ed's mother.</p> - -<p>"Eddie," she said. "If you know anything, tell. Mitch just isn't worth -any more trouble to us."</p> - -<p>"Tell what?" Ed demanded, rising.</p> - -<p>"About where Mitchell Prell is," Granger told him. "You said things -which hinted that he might be around."</p> - -<p>Ed's throat tightened. It was still a minor shock to remember that the -probe beam had probably been used on this house sporadically for years. -The refined radar of the probe beam could, if minutely focused, make -fair pictures of distant things inside walls. But Ed didn't think that -it could make the small print on a sheet of letter paper readable. -But there were instruments that could pick up faint sounds from miles -away—a voice, for instance—and amplify them to audibility. Ed was -still sure that, over distance, his mind itself remained inviolable.</p> - -<p>Ed felt cornered by the brute forces that always take over whenever -reason is broken down by fear. Once his uncle had been a scapegoat -to blame for disaster. Then, poor memories and triumphant years had -half forgiven him. But now, during trouble, he was guilty again. And -according to savage concepts of justice so were his relatives.</p> - -<p>The confusion of half blaming his uncle left Ed and was replaced -by stubborn loyalty. He summoned all his self-control and grinned -carefully. He wondered if the fright in Granger's large eyes reflected -realization at last of the angry hands, gone completely untrustworthy, -that now touched the controls of modern science. Was he getting -intelligent so late? Or was he afraid of something simpler?</p> - -<p>Ed forced a laugh. "You picked up my muttering, Granger," he accused. -"I wonder what <i>you</i> mutter about, these days? Grant me the same -privilege of nervousness under strain which you could do a lot to -relieve, everywhere, as I have been begging you to see. No, I don't -know where Mitchell Prell is, though I wish I did."</p> - -<p>The plain-clothes man had moved over to the table. Now he peered into -the microscope. Soon he motioned to Granger to do likewise. Ed felt the -roots of his hair puckering.</p> - -<p>"What does '<i>Nipper</i>' signify to you, Dukas?" Granger asked at last, -levelly.</p> - -<p>"Suppose it's my pet name for you, Granger?" Ed answered. "Your friend -can take the paper along. The police laboratories might make something -else of it. Maybe I doodle with a bum pen and absent-mindedly stick -the doodle under a microscope—and right away somebody wants to make a -story of it. You want to psyche me? I've humored that kind of whim from -the police before. This time, for cussedness, I'll stand on my rights -and demand that they get a court order before they meddle with my most -private possession, my memory. Especially since hotheads and hysterics -seem to have taken over. But wait, Granger. I'm sure that sensible -people are still in the majority. They haven't reacted very much, yet. -But they will—with matters as bad as they are now. Maybe they haven't -any answers to our problems, except calm and the hope of working -something out. But that's a lot. We were schooled to cautious thinking, -Granger, and that means something, even though you and plenty of others -can lose their wits. Maybe the sensible people will finally shut you -up!"</p> - -<p>"We'll take the paper along all right," the plain-clothes man said. -"And you, too. We already have the court order you mention."</p> - -<p>"Dukas," Granger said with a show of great patience, "will you ever -realize? We're facing a soulless horror. We must be harsh if need be. -But you should be glad to give your absolute co-operation. It's your -duty. We have always felt that Prell is alive, somewhere. Twice he has -been part of disaster, even if unintentionally. We must stop him before -he can bring us greater, unknown dangers."</p> - -<p>Ed eyed this thin, wily man who had managed to assume a certain -unofficial power in the world. And again Ed had trouble judging him. -Perhaps he was entirely insincere. Yet he had, too, the marks of -the rabid crusader following obsolete themes that needed revision; -following them blindly, with both a kind of courage and the crassest -stupidity.</p> - -<p>"Tell me something, Granger," Ed said. "I'm curious. And I know I have -a duty, however different from what you mean. Did you have a hand in -the creation of the monsters of vitaplasm? I mean the real monsters, -not just the androids, the Phonies. The use of terror is old in war and -politics. Stirring up fury, with the blame carefully implied elsewhere."</p> - -<p>Granger's features stiffened, as if he had been insulted, or perhaps -he was just acting. "I would not dirty my hands with things from hell, -Dukas!" he snapped. "Unwise as you are, you must know that! Now I think -the police want to take you away."</p> - -<p>Ed's mother stood in the doorway of his room without saying a word. She -looked strong, yet bitter and scared. He knew that her loyalty was with -him, though her views differed somewhat from his.</p> - -<p>His father must have been out of the house when Granger and the other -man arrived, Ed thought. Did his going out on this chaotic evening mean -anything special? Wanting to be loyal, and at least half sure that the -wish was returned, Ed didn't care to complete the thought.</p> - -<p>He was concerned about his mother, yet he said, "Try not to worry, Mom. -Go to bed. They'll have to guard the house. I can still insist on it. -And I don't think I can be held very long, even now."</p> - -<p>"Your father will come to you as soon as he knows, Eddie," she said.</p> - -<p>So Edward Dukas was carted off to the local bastille. A helmet was -put on his head. But what was learned from him about the whereabouts -of Mitchell Prell must have been both confusing and disappointing. -Certainly, though, it must have intrigued the police, as did that -single name on the paper, which told them nothing under the most -careful scrutiny.</p> - -<p>Bronson, the portly local police chief, introduced Ed to a man named -Carter Loman, a bullishly handsome character with a mouth like a trap, -a smile to match, and a gimlet scrutiny. A big wheel of some sort, Ed -assumed. Was there something familiar about him?</p> - -<p>"You'll have to spend the night here, Dukas," Loman rumbled.</p> - -<p>Ed put out the light in his cell, but as he crept into his cot, he held -a bit of paper from his coat pocket in one hand. He left his fountain -pen open, on top of his clothes. For maybe an hour he lay quietly in -the dark, listening to the scattered noises of the troubled night. Then -he slept.</p> - -<p>He awoke as dawn grayed the east and glanced at once at the paper in -his hand, which he had kept outside the blanket. Ed's heart leaped. -A message had been written. Perhaps it had taken all night to toil -it out at a creeping pace: "<i>Nipper—argue police—you go Port -Smitty—Mars—at once</i>."</p> - -<p>The final <i>e</i> of <i>once</i> was already written, except that a line of it -was still being extended. A little dot of wet ink was still laboring -across the paper.</p> - -<p>Ed had no microscope or pocket lens, but he risked turning on the -light. He peered hard. He was not at all sure that he saw anything -special. But imbedded in the dark liquid he thought for an instant that -he beheld a suggestion of form—impossible or entirely fantastic. Then -the tiny minuscule of ink quivered, and the hint was gone.</p> - -<p>Ed whispered, so low that he himself could not hear, "Uncle Mitch. I -know that you're around—in some form. I wish I understood what you're -up to."</p> - -<p>Ed tore the message from the sheet of paper, chewed it to a pulp, and -spat it on the floor. At least he was destroying concrete evidence that -might provoke greater attention than his psyched memories. Of course -they would psych him again—that was why they had held him, hoping that -he would learn more. But he had learned very little.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The psyching was done. Chief Bronson and Carter Loman knew all that -he knew. Now Ed offered his proposition: "Suppose I got to Mars, as -Mitchell Prell suggests? I seem to be the only man to contact him. -You are aware that I myself haven't more than a wild glimmer of where -the trail leads. But you know that I'm badly worried about what a -human-and-android conflict can mean, and that I want to break the -danger somehow. If you want to find Prell, track me by the best means -that you know."</p> - -<p>Chief Bronson nodded, musingly.</p> - -<p>"Hmm-m—very good!" Carter Loman grunted. "Of course you would prefer -to act alone, Dukas, because you are fond of Prell. You offer to -combine forces with us only because it is the only way that you can do -what you want to do at all. All right, we agree."</p> - -<p>"Tickets and passport will be arranged for immediately," Bronson said. -"And now there is someone here to see you."</p> - -<p>It was Ed's father, angry with him but more angry with the restraint -under which his son had been put.</p> - -<p>"Damn it, Eddie, I tried to get to you last night, and they sent me -away!" he stormed. "And what have you been up to? What's this nonsense -about a message from Prell? Damn, has everything gone completely crazy? -I was for this man Granger and his return to rustic simplicities; but -he's gone wild, too! Isn't there any way to handle what's happening? -Phonies, and things from a witch's caldron, but grown to elephant size. -And more of them all the time! Where does it stop?... Well, it helps a -little that lots of people went out last night breaking up fights. Even -some Phonies did that, they say; but should we believe it? Scientists -were on the run everywhere, as maybe they should be for inventing so -much new trouble. The Schaeffer lab is barricaded. I'm glad for your -sensible people, Ed, but can they hold the peace for more than a little -while? And would it do any final good if they could?"</p> - -<p>Jack Dukas, the "memory man" of old-time flesh, was more like a dad -to Ed again, and Ed was almost as glad for that as he was for the -awakening of the forces of calm and order.</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Dad," Ed said with a cryptic meaning of his own. "It's a small -lessening of danger, anyway. It's a fact, though, that the situation, -at the moment, is an explosive magazine which one well-placed idiot -could set off. And it's hard to see how there could ever be less than -many. Say that our population is split three ways. Android, human -and that mixed group which is trying to keep them from each other's -throats. It's hard to see how the latter can succeed for very long."</p> - -<p>For a moment Ed and Jack Dukas were almost close, in spite of -differences. Ed was a little reassured.</p> - -<p>"I'm going out to Mars, Dad," he said. "With police co-operation. Maybe -to find my uncle. And—who knows?—maybe even to find some useful -answers."</p> - -<p>Jack Dukas shrugged. "More science, no doubt," he said. "Well, anyway, -good luck."</p> - -<p>The brief spell of companionship was broken.</p> - -<p>For a moment Ed was tense with the thought of precious time possibly -wasted, chasing off to the Red Planet, when perhaps he should be -trying to hunt down the perpetrators of offenses to a new biology—in -vitaplasm. He knew that time remained still desperately short, with -nuclear hell building up. But a choice had been made, and he sensed -that it was the best one.</p> - -<p>Ed and Barbara went to see Les Payten that morning. He lay in a bed, -his body encased in an armor of plastic, under which fluids circulated. -He had mended enough to listen and speak. Ed partly explained his -intentions. About them, Les showed a mixture of a sick man's insight -and weariness: "I hope we'll see each other again, Ed. And that -the world will still be around. And that you won't be changed too -much—strong, weak, big or little. Because I've got things figured out -<i>for me</i> at last, Ed. Granger is right, as far as I am concerned. I was -a romantic kid, but now I've had enough! The stars are still farther -out of reach than we realize. Got to fight the murdering Phonies and -all of the vitaplasm menace, no matter what. Because there never was a -menace like it—not to me." Les grinned wanly. "So long, pals."</p> - -<p>In a park, some hours later, Barbara and Ed walked in the beautiful -dusk, while the arch of silvery murk that had been Luna masked a few -of the first stars. Something with long webbed wings was visible in -silhouette against it for an instant—another creature that never -existed before. It added a chill to their low mood. Ed was thinking -that he must say goodbye to Barbara, too, very soon, and to all the -chaotic wonder and charm that was Earth. Earth maybe in its last days.</p> - -<p>Barbara said, "I wish I were going along, Eddie."</p> - -<p>"So do I. Babs, go out to the asteroids. Like my mother. It's safer -there."</p> - -<p>"I <i>meant</i> my wish, Ed," Barbara protested earnestly. "Of course, a -girl is still sometimes rated as a nuisance that a man has to take -extra pains to look after—no companion for one to concentrate on the -dangers ahead. Maybe it's true."</p> - -<p>He looked at her sharply and gulped hard. But gay little bells seemed -to tinkle in his head. "Maybe a lot of things," he commented. "But I -think you, as much as anybody, know what we're up against. Possible -death, of course, which could be permanent. Or some fantastic loss or -change of identity. How can we guess just what? If you can take all -that mystery and hardship, too—well, I won't say no. Maybe if you were -Mrs. Ed Dukas we could have Bronson provide your tickets to Mars."</p> - -<p>Her smile came out, like the sun. "You're heartlessly matter-of-fact -and unromantic, Ed," she told him.</p> - -<p>He drew her into the shadow of a tree. A couple of minutes later, when -he released her, they both looked dazed—as though, crazy as life was, -it still could be heaven. She was beautiful. He'd never seen anyone so -beautiful.</p> - -<p>Fifteen hours later they were aboard the <i>Moon Dust</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="V" id="V">V</a></h2> - - -<p>As the ship rose on its column of fire some of the old love of distance -and enigma came back to Ed. There was also a sense of adventurous -escape, like that of city workers of centuries ago, when, chucking -business and office routines, they had rushed to the country on -weekends to regain a little of primitive nature while they scorched a -steak over a smoky fire in the woods.</p> - -<p>On the <i>Moon Dust</i> there were more women and children than men: -refugees from danger. But would old Mars be much safer? Didn't it now -belong to the same human civilization, with its dark undercurrents?</p> - -<p>The Dukases were smoothly hurled across the vast trajectory to Mars. -They landed at a high south-temperate latitude, not far below the -farthest extent limit of the polar cap; though now, in summer, it had -dwindled to a mere cake of deep hoarfrost a few hundred miles across -and on high ground. Around this remnant stretched a yellow plain made -up of crusting mud, swiftly drying lakes scummed with the Martian -equivalent of green algae, and white patches of ancient-sea salt and -alkali.</p> - -<p>But Port Smitty itself was in a wide, shallow valley, or "canal," a bit -farther north. Its many airdomes, necessary to maintain an atmosphere -dense enough and sufficiently oxygenated to sustain human life, loomed -among vast greenhouses and thickets of tattered, dry-leaved plants. The -central dome was topped by a statue of old Porter Smith, this region's -first human inhabitant; he was still alive but long gone from the Mars -he had loved. For he had associated himself with the building of star -ships.</p> - -<p>Port Smitty already boasted a population of half a million. And there -were other cities of almost equal size. On Mars, many of the first -rejuvenated had settled. And many colonists of every sort had come -there since.</p> - -<p>On the rusty bluff overlooking the city were the remains of a far -older metropolis—towers, domes and strange nameless structures for -which anything manlike could have no use. Fifty million years ago the -Martians, like the people of the Asteroid Planet, had been wiped out in -war.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas and his bride rode by tube train from the flame-blasted -spaceport to the city. Their hotel room overlooked a courtyard lush -with earthly palms and flowers. Birds twittered and flitted from branch -to poppy bloom. From somewhere in the hotel came dance music.</p> - -<p>Their room was supposed to be energy-shielded, but Ed remained -cautious. He merely left his penpoint bared in his coat pocket, with -the envelope of an old letter. He had already told Barbara all he knew -about Uncle Mitch's message and had added some wild guesses. So now she -gave her husband a smile of understanding as he hung his coat carefully -on a chair. Then she came into his arms.</p> - -<p>Later that evening, dancing, they covered their wariness carefully. -They might be under observation in any of a hundred different ways: by -probe beams, hidden cameras, or by individuals, android or human, whom -they did not know. In spite of old loyalty, Ed Dukas was not entirely -at ease with the thought of contacting Mitchell Prell. Yet, he wished -to avoid being trailed so that he could act alone and separate from -the dictatorial and often panic-stricken opinions of others.</p> - -<p>On Mars there had been considerable violence, too, though there had -been no gliding, sinuous things that brought nocturnal terror. But -here, too, there was a mingling of android and human being, with no -visible marks to distinguish the one from the other, though to many the -difference was as great as that between man and werewolf.</p> - -<p>Barbara seemed to grow sleepy in Ed's arms as they danced. Ed yawned -slightly. So they drifted from the room and back to their own quarters.</p> - -<p>Ed pulled the old envelope from the pocket of the coat on the chair. -As he had hoped, a message was traced waveringly on it: "<i>Go Port -Karnak—then E.S.E. into desert.</i>"</p> - -<p>Both Ed and his wife knew that Martian deserts surpassed all earthly -conceptions of desolation. They looked at each other. The challenge was -still in Barbara's eyes. The fact that she could carry a pack was a -matter that had been settled long ago.</p> - -<p>Now Ed risked speaking—in the lowest of audible whispers: "So, -instead of going to bed, as people in our position should, we start -traveling—fast."</p> - -<p>He felt the safety pouch under his belt. Personal recordings were in -it: tiny cylinders, a pair for each of them. A precaution. In the -vaults on Earth there should still be others. But one could not always -be sure of those. Some had disappeared.</p> - -<p>As memory of what he thought he had seen in a tiny ink drop still -clutched rather frighteningly at Ed Dukas's brain. It was a hint of -how Mitchell Prell wrote his messages—in an utterly simple and heroic -way, but with fantastic, dream-shot implications. Could it be part of -android flexibility? Well, probably his fancy had tricked him, because -things couldn't be that odd. Still....</p> - -<p>Often Ed had felt bitter over the confusions created by the advance of -science. But now enigmas led him on as thrillingly as ever. There had -to be wonders ahead, for thinking of Mitchell Prell without thinking of -new science was impossible.</p> - -<p>"Let's go, Babs," he whispered.</p> - -<p>Casually, like ordinary guests checking out, they put two light valises -into the conveyer and dropped to the main floor by elevator. The rest -of their stuff they left behind. They paid their bill and took an auto -cab to the central tube station. In the washrooms they changed from -leisure clothes to the rough gear used in the Martian wilderness: -light-weight vacuum armor and oxygen helmets equipped with air -purifiers and small radios—all fitted over light trousers and shirts. -The remaining contents of their discarded valises they transferred to -rucksacks.</p> - -<p>In the station they mingled with farmers, miners and homesteaders. -Couples such as themselves were common on Mars; they were going out to -make their fortunes.</p> - -<p>They bought their tickets to Port Karnak. Ed and Barbara looked around -them. A half-dozen men among the waiting passengers wore no oxygen -helmets. True, this underground depot was pressurized, but the outer -thinness and oxygen-poverty of the Martian air had to be prepared for. -The absence of helmets, then, almost had to be the mark of the android. -To keep its vital processes going, the versatile vigor of vitaplasm -merely disintegrated a tiny bit of its atomic substance, to make up for -the shortage of chemical energy.</p> - -<p>Ed and Barbara boarded the train with the crowd. Much of this -underground system of transportation had merely been converted to human -beings' use from that which had remained from the ancient culture -of Mars. Behind the projectilelike coaches, close fitting in the -tubes, air-pressure built up. Acceleration was swift. Covering the -thousand-mile distance to Port Karnak took twenty minutes.</p> - -<p>Once arrived, Ed bought the additional equipment they needed; then in -a small restaurant they ate a last civilized meal. They took an auto -bus out along a glassed-in, pressurized causeway and descended at the -final stop, beside a few scattered greenhouses, the outermost of which -provided the city with fresh, earthly vegetables.</p> - -<p>Here the desert was at hand, utterly frigid at night, under the -splinters of stars. Deimos, the farther moon, hung almost stationary -in the north. Irregular in shape, it looked like a speck of broken -chinaware, just big enough to make its form discernible. Probably it -was a small asteroid which the gravity of Mars had captured.</p> - -<p>The Dukases began to plod. The desert came under their boots, and the -solidity of the ground gave way, gradually, to a difficult fluffiness, -like that of dry flour. It was millions of square miles of dust the -color of rusted iron, which, in part, it was. Dust, ground to ultimate -fineness by eons of thin, swift wind. Under the dim light of the sky, -colors dropped in tone to a monotonous grayness that only faintly -revealed the nearest dunes, and showed plumes of soil moving on the -wind like ghosts. The dust made a constant, sleepy soughing against -their helmets, like an invitation to death.</p> - -<p>Barbara pressed Ed's gloved hand, as if in reassurance, and he pressed -hers in return. Maybe they had eluded all pursuit or probe-beam -tracking. Certainly the blowing dust itself would be an effective -screen against the most refined radar device. Yet to vanish from the -view of men could mean another kind of danger. It came to Ed that even -when Mars had teemed with millions of its own inhabitants, perhaps no -one had trod within a mile of where he and his wife were now walking.</p> - -<p>The Dukases marched on for an hour without saying anything. But during -a momentary rest Barbara gripped Ed's arm, thus establishing a firm -sonic channel, so that they could talk without using their helmet -radios, which might betray them.</p> - -<p>"I hope we're not too crazy, Ed," she said. "Going out into a -wilderness like this, on the basis of a couple of strange notes, and -with blind faith that somehow we'll be guided. I hope; I hope!"</p> - -<p>Her tone was light and courageous, and he was more than ever glad.</p> - -<p>"Think of our muddled home world, and make that a prayer," Ed said. "We -might be doing something to help."</p> - -<p>So they kept up their march through the night and into the weirdly -beautiful dawn. The desert was rusty dun. The sky was deep, hard blue. -The dunes were dust-plumed waves, in which a footprint was quickly -lost. The rocks were wind-carven spires. Earth was the bluish morning -star. It looked very peaceful, denying the need for haste. Its ring was -a nebulous blur.</p> - -<p>Barbara and Ed sucked water into their mouths through the tubes which -led back from their helmets to the large canteens in their rucksacks. -They swallowed anti-fatigue and food tablets. For a moment they even -removed their oxygen helmets. There was no great harm in that; only -the distention of blood vessels under swiftly lowered air pressure and -an ache and ringing of eardrums, and of course the stinging dryness of -the Martian cold against their cheeks. Forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, -below zero, it was just then.</p> - -<p>"No more clowning," Ed said as they replaced their helmets. "We might -get dazed by oxygen starvation and forget what we're doing."</p> - -<p>They kept up their march, through the morning, past the almost warm -Martian noon, and on into the frosty chill that came long before -sunset. They were still plodding on when it was dawn once more. In -spite of anti-fatigue capsules, they were getting pretty groggy.</p> - -<p>In his breast pouch Ed had his pen and the envelope on which the latest -message from Mitchell Prell had been inked. Now, surely, there had been -time enough. So he ventured to disturb the writing materials. There -were more words on the envelope: "<i>True on course—keep moving</i>."</p> - -<p>So they continued to follow the pointer of their small gyrocompass, set -to stab precisely toward east-southeast. Ed no longer questioned an odd -miracle. It was simply there, and he was grateful.</p> - -<p>An hour later Barbara glimpsed fluttering movement near by: a fleck -of bright yellow. Then it was gone behind a large chip of stone. Then -it appeared again. Ed saw it, too, for an instant. It fluttered, it -chirped plaintively. It was an impossibility in the wastelands of Mars, -or anywhere else on the Red Planet, outside of an air-conditioned cage. -It was a small, earthly bird. A canary.</p> - -<p>Barbara stared at it. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and scared. The -tired droop of her cheeks deepened.</p> - -<p>"Darling," she said rather lamely. "I think that fatigue is about to -get the better of us."</p> - -<p>"Think again," Ed said.</p> - -<p>"I guess you're right," she answered. "Even without vitaplasm, it's -not much of a stunt to give a guided missile or a spy-robot the form -of a little bird, with television eyes. And a Midas Touch weapon, or -something equally unpleasant, built into it. At the hotel in Port -Smitty, it was unrecognizable among the other caged canaries. Here, -though, it's unmistakably identified. Which means that whoever is -guiding it—the police looking for your Uncle Mitch or friends of -Granger's, or whoever else—don't care any more that we know what it -is. We're helpless now—they think."</p> - -<p>A dull fury came to Ed Dukas. He might have guessed that all chances -of their eluding surveillance would have been countered carefully. -This birdlike mechanism must have followed them all the way from Port -Smitty, keeping just out of sight.</p> - -<p>Then a more hopeful idea hit him. But reason conquered it. "No," -he said aloud, gripping Barbara's shoulder so that she could hear. -"If the pseudo-canary was Uncle Mitch's guide for us, it would have -revealed itself sooner, and the messages on paper would not have been -necessary."</p> - -<p>In a flash Ed drew his own Midas Touch and fired it at the place among -the broken rocks where the canary had just vanished. At a little -distance there was the usual spurt of incandescence, fringed now with -red dust. But from the projecting boulders near its base, a small -yellow form spurted with a faint and musical twitter of mockery. Then -a heavy voice spoke—one which neither Ed nor Barbara recognized just -then:</p> - -<p>"Better luck next time, robot lovers. Lead on!"</p> - -<p>Thereafter, the false canary was careful not to show itself. And Ed was -left with his frustrated anger, and with other uncertain thoughts. What -if the written messages had not come from Mitchell Prell at all, but -from someone else with an unknown purpose? Or, what if they were from -Uncle Mitch, but had been prepared long ago and left to be presented to -him, Ed Dukas, by means of some mechanical agent? What if—well—many -things.</p> - -<p>Using his tiny portable radar unit to locate the bird drew only a -blank. Perhaps the little mechanism with a radio speaker for a voice -was effectively shielded against such detection, even at short range.</p> - -<p>To attempt evasive action would be a waste of time and waning energy. -There was nothing to do but go on, see what developed, and trust to -luck. There was the certainty that real pursuit would come, but what -shape it would take remained unknown.</p> - -<p>As Ed and Barbara plodded on through the day, their minds became fuzzy -with weariness. Once, in a kind of retreat from present harsh facts, -Ed's thoughts touched a vivid daydream that he'd had before, of a -planet of some star. He looked down at imaginary dry ground under -imaginary feet and saw that each pebble under the strange, brilliant -sunshine had a little hole in it. And something shaped like a cross, -with four rough, brownish-gray arms that could bend in any direction, -scrabbled away, flat against the soil, its equipment glinting. The -thickets all around were stranger than those of Mars.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was just a daydream, originating from within himself, like an -old, half-buried hope of some distant exploration. He wondered if it -could ever still have any fulfillment, or if that even mattered any -more? Perhaps, for all he knew, his wife and he were now headed for an -even stranger region.</p> - -<p>Ed shook his head to clear it. He did not want to disturb the envelope -in his pouch too often. To expose the ink to the dried-out Martian air, -while the writing was in progress at hour-hand speed, might spoil a -vital message. But at last he chanced it. It seemed that the writer was -not much troubled by the presence of the bird-thing or what it might -mean.</p> - -<p>Barbara and Ed read avidly: "<i>Base of capped granite rock before you. -Lab.</i>"</p> - -<p>Barbara nodded toward a formation which loomed a half mile ahead in -the freezing cold of late afternoon. The slab, balanced crosswise on a -slender pinnacle, identified it beyond doubt, though there were other -similar spires around it. It cast its shadow on the sunlit dunes. Or -was all of that dark, irregular patch shadow?</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas and his bride had not enjoyed the luxury of natural sleep -for a long time. But summoning their flagging strength, they hurried -forward. Ed felt that at last he was approaching the solution of -ten-year-old enigmas.</p> - -<p>The darker area at one side of the capped rock was not all shadow. -But the Dukases had scant attention for the bluish masses of plushy -stuff that grew in this aridity. At another time it might have been -fascinating, for it was vegetation related to the android as moss is -related to a man. It was a growth of vitaplasm—another of Mitchell -Prell's experiments. But Ed and Barbara had no chance to ponder this.</p> - -<p>They located an eighteen-inch cleft at the rock's base. Edging into it, -they found an irregular stone pivoted on steel hinges. To their touch, -it closed behind them, and bolts clicked. From the outside now the -outline of the door would seem merely a pattern of natural cracks in -the granite pinnacle.</p> - -<p>Atomic battery lamps lighted the passage, and there were more heavy -doors, some of them of steel, for Ed and Barbara to bolt behind them. -The place was like a small, secret fortress. At the bottom of a spiral -stair, beyond a small airlock, was Mitchell Prell's latest and perhaps -last workshop.</p> - -<p>He must have blasted it from the crust of Mars without help. It was -a series of a half-dozen rooms and was no larger than a fair-sized -apartment. Smallest of all was the combined sleeping room and -kitchen; and there the evidence of months or perhaps years of absence -was plainest. The bunk was thick with dust, and food remnants were -blackened on unwashed plates. The air, of earthy density, smelled of -decay and a strange pungence. The floors and walls were crusted with -patches of the tough, bluish growths seen outside. It was suggestive -at once of both fungus and moss but was really like neither. It had a -pretty color under the lamps, which had certainly been burning for a -long time.</p> - -<p>Ed and Barbara removed their oxygen helmets and began a swift -exploration of the premises. The rooms had all the marks of lone -bachelor occupancy by a man too fearfully busy with his own -deep pursuits to waste time on more than the barest attempts at -housekeeping. Apparatus was everywhere. There were even recognizable -parts of a helicopter—the one, no doubt, which had brought Prell and -his equipment to this refuge.</p> - -<p>At first they thought that he might since have fallen victim to some -violence or accident. And then they found his body in a rectangular, -plastic-covered tank, submerged in a cloudy, viscous fluid. It was a -standard sort of vat, much used in laboratories in repairing extensive -injury and restoring a destroyed body from a personal recording—either -in protoplasm or vitaplasm. Near by, there were three similar vats, -which, when opened, proved to contain only fluid.</p> - -<p>Barbara and Ed looked for a long moment at Mitchell Prell's forever -young face. It was peaceful in death that was not quite death; for of -the latter you could never be sure any longer, unless it was the death -of the species.</p> - -<p>If there were guile behind that gentle face, it did not show. If there -were darkness of purpose, or stubborn unwillingness to recognize errors -that he had committed in a civilization that tottered as it reached -for greatness, it could not be seen. But in this refuge, one fact was -plain: Mitchell Prell had gone on with his work in a super-biology.</p> - -<p>Ed wandered over to a beautiful microscope of a standard make. Its -attachments also started out from a familiar design. It was fitted with -dozens of special screws and levers. When Ed, and then Barbara, peered -into its eye-piece, they found that each of these screws and levers -could manipulate a tiny tool, almost too small to see with the naked -eye. There were minute cutters, calipers and burnishing wheels. Set up -under the microscope there was even what seemed to be a tiny lathe. In -fact, there was an entire machine shop on an ultra-miniature scale. And -there were tiny, tonglike grasping members, intended to serve—on such -a reduced scheme of things—as hands, where the human hand, working -directly, would have been hopelessly mountainous.</p> - -<p>In addition to this equipment, there were exact duplicates of the vats -across the room and their attendant apparatus, except that each entire -assembly was less than a half-inch long. In one vat there was a human -figure much smaller than a doll, yet perfect.</p> - -<p>Barbara laughed nervously. Even in this century of wonders, the human -mind had its limitations for making swift adjustments. The laugh was a -denial of what her eyes beheld.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas's wide face looked at once avid and haggard. Beside the tiny -vats there was also another microscope, complete in every detail, yet -of the same relative dimensions as the little figure in the vat. But -this lesser microscope was of the electron variety. It had to be. For -at this reduced size light waves themselves were too coarse in texture -to be effective for close-range work.</p> - -<p>Ed turned slowly toward his young wife, whose eyes were alert and -wonder-filled in spite of her weariness. He noticed the pleasant wave -in her hair. He noted the charming curve of her brow, the tiny and -pleasing irregularity of her nose. And what was all this attention but -a clinging to an object of love when facing a strangeness so great that -it scared him as he had never been scared before. Ed Dukas knew that -his face must have gone gray.</p> - -<p>Now his words came slowly and precisely: "Babs, I've told you that I -watched part of Mitchell Prell's first message being written. That in -the moving speck of wet ink, for an instant something looked like a man -the size of a mote! I thought I'd imagined it. But is that what Uncle -Mitch is now? An android so small that the only way for him to write a -note to a person of usual dimensions is to surround his own body with a -droplet of ink and to drag himself across the paper, making the lines -and loops of script?"</p> - -<p>Barbara looked at him obliquely, doubting his seriousness.</p> - -<p>"Aw, now, Eddie-boy, take it a little bit easy," she said. "Please do."</p> - -<p>He didn't answer her. He let his unchanging expression and many seconds -of silence do the answering for him. His pulses drummed in his ears.</p> - -<p>At last he said, "No, darling, I mean it. There's no reason why an -android no bigger than the smallest insects can't exist. And the signs -of what Mitchell Prell did in this laboratory are plain enough.</p> - -<p>"Working at first with the larger microscope and the miniature tools -and machinery under it, he duplicated a now common kind of biological -apparatus in half-inch size. In its tank he caused to grow the -simulacrum of himself that you can see. Aside from the difference in -dimensions, that much has been both possible and fairly common practice -for years. Its brain having been stamped with all phases of his -memory and personality, it became him when it awoke. His own body he -left inert and preserved in the large vat. But he was not finished. -He had made just one step toward the degree of smallness that he -wanted to reach. So he started over from scratch, constructing first -another microscope and then relatively minute machinery and tools, -fine beyond our sight. Under that tiny electron microscope I'll bet -there's another, smaller machine shop, and a smaller tank from which a -mote-sized Mitchell Prell emerged. It must all have been quite a job. -It's not hard to see where those ten years went."</p> - -<p>Barbara was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, "It sounds -reasonable—superficially. But still, is it possible? Consider a brain. -It can come in many sizes, from an ant's to a human being's. But all -are made of molecules of the same dimensions. And it has been pretty -well determined that a brain must be always about as big as a human -being's to be truly intelligent. Trying to cram such intelligence -into a smaller lump of gray matter—composed of the familiar -molecules—would be like trying to weave fine cloth out of rope. How -can you get around that, Ed?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe I can guess," he said. "With smaller units. How about the -electron, Babs? Far smaller than the molecule, certainly. And it's been -the soul of the best calculators—thought machines—for a couple of -centuries. There isn't any doubt that a brain of microscopic size could -function by far finer electronic patterning. No, it probably wouldn't -work in natural protoplasm. But we already know the flexibility of -vitaplasm: easy to redesign, capable of drawing its energy even from a -nuclear source. Well, you figure it out. What have we here but other -android advantages? I think my uncle once told me that he meant to go -where no one could go exactly as a human being."</p> - -<p>"All right, Eddie," she conceded. "I guess I'm persuaded. Proud girl, -me. I've got a smart boyfriend. And your uncle—he skips blithely -from the bigness of the interstellar regions in his thoughts to -the smallness of dust! And he seems, <i>actually</i>, to have done the -latter—in person! Is that what we're supposed to accept as truth? If -so, he must have been with you all the time, or at least for quite a -while. On Earth, even. And he must have come out to Mars with us. He -was right in your pocket, riding with the paper and pen. To write, he -must have gunked himself up good with the ink inside the pen point. -Ugh—what a thought! And maybe he's still in your pocket right now. -He—or a tremendously shrunken equivalent of him. Does all this stack -up right in your eyes, Ed?" A pallor had crept through Barbara's tan.</p> - -<p>"Pretty much so," Ed replied heavily.</p> - -<p>"So what do we do now, Ed? Try to follow your uncle's path—down?"</p> - -<p>Ed's flesh tingled. To follow Mitchell Prell <i>down</i>—a course more -weirdly remote than traveling to the stars. He did not answer Barbara. -He unzipped his pocket. He could not tell whether a minute android -emerged or not. There were no further messages on the envelope.</p> - -<p>But from a sound cone in a shadowy corner of this workshop, there -suddenly came tones that a decade had not rubbed from his memory:</p> - -<p>"Nipper-hello! Or is it always Ed now? So we've come to Mars together. -And you with Barbara! Well, maybe that is an agreeable complication! -Now we can talk. Here I have the right amplifying apparatus. I need -help, and you always seemed the best—and enough like me. I know -your doubts about science, and I don't blame you. But I'm still the -same—wanting to learn everything that I can, feeling that everything -should work out right."</p> - -<p>The stillness closed in again. Ed and Barbara looked at each other. -Technology was full of tricks—the possibility of a thousand illusions. -Could he even trust a voice, made so like Mitchell Prell's used to be? -And could he trust the mind behind it? Even if it truly was his uncle's?</p> - -<p>"Work out right!" Ed growled mockingly. "That sounds almost pious! -If you are what you say you are, you were on Earth and have seen -everything. You know then how right things have been! I was around when -the Moon blew—remember? And no scared hotheads caused that. But there -are plenty of them now. And from here on Mars, I've expected to see -Earth momentarily puff up into a little nova."</p> - -<p>There was a sigh from the sound cone. "So I'm to blame—at least -partly—for helping to give those fools something to be furiously -right or mistaken about," Mitchell Prell's voice replied. "Well, I was -what I was, and I am what I am, Ed. I'm sorry about many things that -happened. But I can't erase them. I've urged you to come here to help -me try to counteract them. I don't think you'll stay angry with me, Ed. -Come where I am—you and Barbara. It can be done quite quickly now. I -have two forms prepared. They will take the lines and personalities -of anyone. Just set the dials above two of the unoccupied vats at one -hundred—full energy. Lower yourselves into the fluid. Clothes, or -lack of them, won't matter. Your own bodies will sink into suspended -animation."</p> - -<p>Again the voice from the sound cone faded out. Ed's and Barbara's -eyes met in a tense congress of thought. They were being asked to -leave their natural, physical selves behind and to become beings of -vitaplasm. To many, that was horror in itself, even without a radical -change in size. Then there was the fear of loss of identity. To be an -exact duplicate in mind and memory might not necessarily mean to be -the same person. Here was a metaphysical problem elusive and hard to -answer. What others of experience might have told you could never quite -satisfy you. You had to learn for yourself.</p> - -<p>Beyond all that, there was that drop, down and down into tininess, to -where physical laws themselves must seem warped by the relativity of -size levels, and to where nothing remained quite the same. Could one's -mind even endure the difference?</p> - -<p>For a moment Ed felt cornered and panicky. But something eager and -questioning came into him. For the first time he wished that Barbara -had not come with him.</p> - -<p>Finally he said, "I've got to go down, Babs. There just isn't any other -way."</p> - -<p>"What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose, Ed," she said. -"With us, that was settled a while ago."</p> - -<p>He didn't protest. She was resourceful. She'd be a help, not a trouble. -And he knew that love of adventure was as strong in her as in himself. -So the decision was made.</p> - -<p>Suddenly they heard a distant clink and hammering. Metal against stone. -The canary had followed them to Mitchell Prell's underground fortress. -And of course the little mechanism had been merely a scout for some -larger party farther to the rear.</p> - -<p>Again the words came from the sound cone, but in a whisper, "I -was pretty sure you'd be followed, Ed. But we should still have -considerable time. It'll be hard for them to break into here—without -destroying everything. And I think they'll want to see what I've got."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas had never before considered his brilliant tireless uncle in -any way impractical. But now he was sensing a certain inadequacy and -felt that Mitchell Prell truly needed him. If it was Mitchell Prell, -of course—if the voice itself wasn't a trick. But now Ed was at least -more confident that he was not being fooled. What doubt remained had to -be part of many calculated risks.</p> - -<p>"All right, Uncle Mitch," he said.</p> - -<p>Barbara smiled at him rather wanly, but her eyes held a glint. He -kissed her.</p> - -<p>"So here goes, eh, Eddie?" she said.</p> - -<p>"Be seein' yuh, sweetheart," he said, taking her in his arms.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="VI" id="VI">VI</a></h2> - - -<p>Stripped of their boots and vacuum armor, they set the controls and -lowered themselves into the gelatinous contents of the tanks. A warm, -tingling numbness flowed into them at contact with the viscous, -energized fluid. Weariness stabbed into their muscles. Their knees -buckled, and they sank deeper into the gelatin.</p> - -<p>"All okay, Babs?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Okay, Ed."</p> - -<p>Then their faces went under that surface. Their minds numbed and were -blotted out. They no longer needed to breathe.</p> - -<p>The journey downward into a smaller, or, in a sense, a vaster region, -was made without their awareness, in a single step. There was no need -to pause at middle size, represented by the tiny but easily visible -doll-like figure in the minute tank. Mitchell Prell's labors in two -size levels need not be done again, for that work was finished. The -direct path was prepared. There was a flow of impulses, like that of -the old-time transmission of photographs over wires. Gelatins already -roughly of human form responded, swirled and moved tediously, and took -sharper shape, in a still-smaller vat. And it was the same with the -brains meant to harbor mind, memory and personality. They also were -repeated in a finer medium, and by a different principle than their -originals—but nonetheless repeated. So, in slightly more than an hour, -the essences of two human beings were re-created in the dimensions of -motes of dust.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Awareness returned gradually to Ed. At first it was like a blur of -dreams, out of which came realization of a successful transformation, -and of where he must be. Panic followed, but briefly. He was struggling -violently in a thick, gluey substance. His entire body, even his face, -was imbedded in it. He was certain that he would smother—yet the -impulse to breathe was subdued.</p> - -<p>Fighting the sticky stuff, he knew that he possessed great -strength—relatively. Some of this was the android power in him. -Perhaps more of it was the increased relative toughness of everything, -in lesser size. An ant was relatively stronger than a man—a phenomenon -of smaller dimensions. And here, even a gelatinous fluid seemed like -heavy glue, its molecular chains long and tough. Water itself, not -lying flat, but beading into dewdrops, would have seemed almost as -sticky.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas, or his tiny likeness, got clear of the vat and its contents, -though much of the latter still clung to him. On all fours he dragged -it with him, leaving a trail of it in his wake on a rough, glassy -surface. He kept spiraling around and around until he rid himself of -most of the gelatin.</p> - -<p>With avidness and wonder and dread, his mind scrambled through a moment -of time to grasp the truths of his present state and to test them. Even -the act of <i>existing</i> in the body he now inhabited was indescribably -different. His mouth was almost dry inside. He still could draw air -into his nostrils, but breathing became unnecessary before some source -of energy that was probably nuclear. His hands and his nude body still -looked slender and brown to him. And he retained memories—of people -he knew, sights he had seen, and of things he had learned. Here he -seemed to remain himself. Those memories were clear enough; but were -they already losing a little importance, were they too gigantic to be -concerned about in this place?</p> - -<p>That thought, again, was panic at work—a sense of separation from -all that he held familiar. For the ato lamp towering over him seemed -as remote as the sun. The form of the less-than-miniature electron -microscope seemed a metal-sheened tower. And in his mind there was -even the certainty that his present form must be of a wholly different -design inside to meet different conditions. He knew that he could -feel the thump of a heavier heart, circulating relatively more viscous -fluids.</p> - -<p>And something about his vision had changed. Close by, everything was -slightly blurred, as if he were far-sighted. Farther off, objects -became hazed, as by countless drifting, speeding dots that weren't -opaque but that seemed—each of them—to be surrounded by refractive -rings that distorted the view of what lay beyond them. And because -there were so many tiny centers of distortion constantly in motion, -vision at this middle-distance never quite cleared but remained -ashimmer. Were those translucent specks perhaps the auras of air -molecules themselves?</p> - -<p>At a greater distance, clarity came again. For there the haze which -was not haze at all but which consisted merely of seeing too much -detail—in too coarse a grain, as under too much magnification—was -lost. Light and dark, and familiar rich colors. And he saw the whole -room around him almost as he used to see it, except for its limitless -vastness.</p> - -<p>For a little while Ed wondered further about his new eyes. They were -responsive to familiar wave lengths of light. Those wave lengths were -not too coarse—at least when reflected from farther objects. For -nearer things, he was not at all sure that he could see even as well as -he could by ordinary light. Was his vision, in this segment, perhaps -electronic, then? Did he see, close at hand, fringed hints of strange, -beautiful hues? Were these electronic colors? Or were there infinitely -finer natural wave lengths, far above the known spectrum, which -too-massive instruments had been unable to detect?</p> - -<p>This question was dropped quickly, because there was too much more. -Now he looked again, very briefly, out into the depths of air, full -of drifting debris—jagged stones that glinted, showing a crystalline -structure, twisted masses like the roots of trees, though they had the -sheen of floss. All of it was dust of one kind or another. Ed could -even hear the clink and rattle as bits of it collided. Everywhere -there were murmurings of sound, which made a constant, elfin ringing -never heard in the world he knew.</p> - -<p>Gingerly now he crept across the rough glass surface, back toward -the vat from which he had emerged and its companion. Barbara was his -first concern. There she was, in the second vat, imbedded in a bead of -gelatin. Already she was trying to fight free. He reached both arms -into the stuff and tugged at her shoulders to help her. He lifted -her out easily and helped scrape away the adhering gelatin, while he -worried about how she might react to a tremendous change. To counteract -the shock of it, he kept up a running flow of talk, in a voice that -even seemed a little as it used to be:</p> - -<p>"... We made it, Babs. Down to rock bottom, you might say. I don't -think that any conscious human shape could be made much smaller. Or -any machine, for that matter. Remember some old stories? Little men -lost in weed jungles, fighting spiders and things? Strange, unheard-of -adventure, in those days! Maybe we can even try it sometime. Except -that a spider, or even an aphid, wouldn't notice us. We're too small."</p> - -<p>A little pink nymph with a rather determined jaw, she seemed only half -to listen as she stared around with large eyes.</p> - -<p>Later, like two savages, they were clothing themselves crudely in -scraps of lint torn from what looked like a sleeping pallet. A fiber -was knotted across it in a way that reminded Ed of the safety straps by -which passengers of planes and space ships attached themselves to their -seats during take-offs and landings. Here, Prell, the tiny android, -must take his rare moments of rest. Some of the lint was far finer than -spiderweb, but it was still coarse to Ed and his wife in their present -state, as they wound its strands around them.</p> - -<p>"You look beautiful, darling," he said. "You're just as you were."</p> - -<p>Barbara smiled slightly. "Even here I'm vain enough to respond to -compliments, Eddie," she answered. "Where's Prell?"</p> - -<p>Her voice was a thin thread in the keening murmur of sounds. And it -was worried. Ed and Barbara both craved the reassuring presence of -someone of experience here, where everything was changed—where minute -gusts of air seemed bent on hurling you upward, so that you would float -helplessly, like a mote. You stood up gingerly, meaning to try walking -a step. But that mode of locomotion seemed not only unsafe here but -impractical. You could be swept away, and in the vastness all around, -how could one mote find another again? Too much of what you were used -to was lost already. Even the habit of walking no longer functioned -properly. The air was a buoyant, resisting substance, a prickling -presence of individually palpable molecular impacts, and there was -little traction for one's feet. Perhaps, then, here you swam in the air.</p> - -<p>Ed spoke at last: "My uncle can't be far away. He'll come to us. It's -been only a moment."</p> - -<p>Barbara clung to him, afraid. "Eddie, am I me anymore? Can I even find -old ways of talking, and old subjects to talk about? Here? Everything -seems too different. Damn—I never could accept the idea of there being -two of anyone! Us up in those other tanks—giants asleep. And yet us -here! Maybe we're different already—shaped by other surroundings! And -remember how little we are and how helpless. Moving a couple of inches -would be like walking a mile. And we came here to see if we could find -a way to straighten out the giant affairs at home. We're <i>androids</i> -now, aren't we? A special kind. But we still have the capacity for the -old emotions. Damn it again, Eddie, everything around us in this place -is so strange. But it's beautiful, too."</p> - -<p>He patted her shoulder and said nothing. But her thoughts paralleled -his own.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was a rumble, like distant thunder. In a more familiar -size level, it would have been a clink and a thud, coming through many -yards of granite. They both recognized it. Ed even chuckled.</p> - -<p>"Whoever or whatever was following the canary machine," he said. -"Remember?"</p> - -<p>Just then Mitchell Prell's simulacrum appeared, a comic, bearded -figure wrapped in a few strands of lint that suggested woven twigs. -He swam out of the depths of atmosphere—the fall-guy of an era that -had stumbled over its own achievements. And in several of those very -achievements, he had taken refuge.</p> - -<p>He alighted near Ed and Barbara and wrung their hands cordially. Then -words spilled out of him excitedly: "Ed. Barbara. We've got to hurry. -But first we should put our minds straight about one another. I know -that back home you were on the side of responsibility and good sense. -Well, so am I. There haven't been many new quirks added to my viewpoint -since you first knew me, Eddie. I want knowledge to blossom into all -that it can give us. I think you do, too. Now tell me how you feel."</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell could still inspire Ed Dukas. Even here, at this -opposite, smaller end of the cosmos, he imagined again his splendid -towers of the future.</p> - -<p>"There were moments when I felt pretty bitter," he said, in not too -friendly a fashion. "But in the main I'm with what you just said—all -the way. I put my life on it as a pledge."</p> - -<p>Barbara nodded solemnly.</p> - -<p>"Thanks," Prell answered, the breath that he'd drawn for speech -sighing out of him. "I'm more grateful than I can tell. You two may -think that we're too tiny—that our size makes us powerless. I don't -believe that's true. I was on Earth as I am, you know. I went there and -back—undetected—on space liners. But while on Earth I missed many -opportunities to act against danger. Maybe I'd been here too long, down -close to the basic components of matter, studying them. And I went to -Earth poorly equipped in both materials and experience. Well, I think -you can see how it was. Let it go for now. Visitors are at our door. I -suppose we've got to try to meet them in the manner that they deserve."</p> - -<p>"Call the shots!" Ed said impatiently.</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell smiled rather wistfully. "The main part is done," he -replied. "I set the small remote controls of the large vats for revival -of the bodies in them—our larger selves. That was why I was delayed in -getting to you here. They are colossi. They cannot hide. And they must -be defended. I'm sorry, they are better able to defend themselves than -we are to defend them. At least they will have a better chance alive than -inert. Revival takes a little time, but in a moment you will see."</p> - -<p>Ed did not quite know what to think about this action on his uncle's -part—whether to agree to it or to suspect that it was somehow -a mistake. Circumstances were too strange here, and he was too -inexperienced. And the whole situation itself was fraught with -confusion for him. Two selves, both named Edward Dukas? It was not a -new circumstance in the ideas of the times. You knew that it could be. -Yet it remained a muddle of identities hard to straighten out. Barbara -clung to him again, her feelings doubtless similar to his own.</p> - -<p>"It's happening," she whispered.</p> - -<p>And it was. From their perch on the scored, glassy surface under a -miniature electron microscope, they looked out past the minute tanks -and the attendant cables, crystals and apparatus that had given them -special being, and across the shimmering void of air, they saw those -other vats, glassy, too, and tall as mountains.</p> - -<p>It seemed then that the mountains opened, unfolded, grew taller, -disgorged Atlases that stepped dripping over a cliff wall. There was -no connection of mind now—these three giants were other people, -for the link had been broken in the past. There was no blending of -consciousness.</p> - -<p>Now there were vibrations almost too heavy in this miniature region -to be called sounds. They were more like earthquake shocks. But Ed -realized that they were just the noises of normal human movement—the -giants Ed, Barbara and Mitch putting on their boots, the grind of their -footsteps. Meanwhile they conversed, it seemed; but their voices were -only a quiver, a rattle, with a hint of worried inquiry. The giant -Mitchell Prell seemed to make suggestions.</p> - -<p>The lesser Prell must still have understood what was being said. For -now he gripped a roughly made microphone and talked into it. His words -were amplified to a seismic temblor as they emerged from the sound cone -on the far wall; but to Ed and Barbara they were still directly audible -from the speaker's own lips. "You've come down to me successfully. -Now we must see what will happen. Ed, if it is only the police at -our gates, perhaps it would be best simply to present yourselves as -citizens. You and Barbara have rights. And you've fulfilled your pledge -to them. They can't harm you. Beyond this, I must apologize to you -both. You have made a difficult journey to what must seem to you a -frustrating blank wall—without experiencing anything very new. That -is a defect of being duplicated. And there is no time now to blend -into your minds the memories of the descent into smallness. I'm sorry. -Mitchell Sandhurst Prell—yes, you, my overgrown former identity—show -them what to do. But for heaven's sake, move this workshop of mine to a -slightly less exposed place!"</p> - -<p>Because he was like his old self, the smaller Ed Dukas still thought -as his original did. So, after all, there was that much contact. He -understood the frustration that had just been mentioned, plus the -confusion of not having seen the reality of another size level. This -failure could even involve suspicion of his uncle's purposes. But there -was loyalty and belief, too. From the basis of parallel minds, the -lesser Ed felt all these emotions personally.</p> - -<p>So he moved quickly, closer to the tiny microphone, bent on giving -reassurance. He shouted into it; and of course his words came out -sounding somewhat mad: "Ed, it's me! Ed! Honestly! And that was a real -Mitchell Prell speaking. Take care of yourself—and Babs—because -you're me—or still part of me. And we both love Barbara—in any form. -Hello, Barbara, darling."</p> - -<p>There was no time to say any more, for now there began a steady, heavy -vibration, growing gradually stronger. In a moment he guessed what -it was. A huge, high-speed drill had been brought into play against -granite. Very soon now these caverns would be invaded.</p> - -<p>And more was happening. There were more seismic temblors. A colossus -moved nearer, bringing its shadow; its wet clothing seemed to be woven -of cables instead of thread. The face, briefly glimpsed, was a huge, -pitted mask, bearded with a forest of dark and tangled trunks. A wind -came with him, caused by his motion. He was that other Prell.</p> - -<p>"Hang on!" his tiny android likeness yelled.</p> - -<p>Ed of the dust-grain region drew his Barbara down. They flattened -together and clutched part of the intricate but roughly made apparatus -attached to the vats from which they had emerged, just as the glassy -floor under them tilted, and they were almost swept away by gusts of -air. Wires had been disconnected, and now the whole assembly—large -microscope with the miniature machine shop, middle-sized tank and -middle-sized doll figure under it, and the lesser electron microscope -with its similar though reduced equipment—was being carried and -hoisted.</p> - -<p>It was set on a high shelf. And what must have been a translucent jar -was placed in front of it to hide it casually. Maybe there was no time -for anything else, for that rough vibration of the drill was becoming -rapidly more pronounced.</p> - -<p>"They ought to put on oxygen helmets!" Barbara shouted in the quaking -tumult. "These vaults will be unsealed! And they aren't built to live -in Martian air!"</p> - -<p>Maybe the three giants even heard her, through the mike and sound cone. -But they would know, anyway.</p> - -<p>From the twilight of the jar's shadow, Ed could still see into the -immensity of the room. The colossi were donning their heavy gear.</p> - -<p>The vibration had become a gigantic rattle with creaking, crackling -overtones, audible only to micro-ears. Ed felt almost shaken apart and -dazed by it. Any instant now the drill would break through into the -room. But he didn't anticipate much real trouble. It wasn't reasonable. -He felt fairly sure that it was the police who had followed his larger -self here. They had their duty to give protection, not harm. Their -power might be warped by the fears and prejudices of the times, but not -beyond reason.</p> - -<p>He knew that there would be a jolt when the drill came through. So he -scrambled over to the pallet and pulled from it a long bit of floss, -thicker to him than a rope. Quickly he bent one end around his waist -and knotted it, and fastened the middle of it around Barbara. The far -end he passed to his uncle.</p> - -<p>"Tie on!" he shouted. "So we don't get separated. And hold tight to -anything solid!"</p> - -<p>The break-through came, and it was not too bad. It felt like a monster -ram hitting the world one sharp, stinging blow; then the spinning -mountain of the super-hardened drill bit—all of a yard across, it -must have been—braked quickly to stationary. There was no tumultuous -outrush of air of earthly composition and pressure. The drill hole had -evidently been capped.</p> - -<p>Ed saw the colossi there in the room—the originals of himself, his -wife and his uncle—grimly clad for Mars. They had taken up positions -a little behind this obstacle or that, not ready to trust entirely but -more or less sure. He knew how it was—particularly with his other -identity. There had to be this tense moment before someone, known or -unknown, spoke. They were armed. At the hip that was still his own in -a way hung the Midas Touch pistol that he remembered, though it was -expanded seemingly a million fold.</p> - -<p>The outcome was different from what he could have hoped or expected. -There was no voice of challenge or greeting from behind the drill. You -could not see beyond the dark space around its jagged rim. There was -only perhaps a small, intuitive warning before the neutrons of another -Midas Touch struck, and a few of the atoms of metal and flesh and -stone exploded in a narrow, sweeping curve, making a flash in which -all visible details became lost and a volume of sound and quaking in a -confined space that, of itself, could have killed.</p> - -<p>The little Ed Dukas could be proud of his forerunner, for he was quick -enough to have half drawn his own Midas Touch, just as the blaze of -light came.</p> - -<p>It didn't do any good. The lesser Ed's android consciousness was rugged -enough not to be lost, even as he and his companions, tethered like -beads on a string, were sucked upward into the swirling dust of the -atmosphere. So he saw how the Midas Touch, discharged from behind the -drill, cut slantingly, like a sword blade, across the room, its narrow -beam slicing through the three giants almost simultaneously. Then, -for a moment, coherence of impression was lost in swirl and glare and -tumbling motion. But when the tumult quieted slightly and he floated on -choppy air currents, he saw the crumpled, mountainous forms. Mitchell -Prell—colossal version—had been chopped in two at the waist. The -heads and shoulders of the other two giants had ceased to be.</p> - -<p>To Ed Dukas's micro-cosmic nostrils, the smell of burned flesh remained -unchanged. Nor was his capacity for horror any different. It came after -that small, numb pause of doubt of what he had just seen. He heard the -lesser Prell and the lesser Barbara shout from beside him. They had not -been torn loose from the joining strand—luckily.</p> - -<p>At first he thought that the attack had come from someone other than -those who had trailed him. But then the drill point moved forward. -From behind it stepped several men, wearing the trim vacuum armor of -Interworld Security—usually honorable in the past but now sometimes -made shaky and corrupt by the doubts within its own ranks and among the -people about what, within the realm of human effort, was good or bad.</p> - -<p>The group had a leader. Ed and his companions drifted idly in the air, -near the man's shoulders, but his helmeted head still loomed in the sky -of their present world. Old personality hints were hard to translate -from such magnitudes; but the cocky briskness and triumph showed. There -were rumblings and quakings of speech. Ed began to recognize repeated -patterns in the rattle of it. Centuries ago, the deaf had had a way -to "hear"—by sense of touch. And by feeling the heavy vibration, Ed -knew that he was "hearing" syllables too heavy for his present auditory -organs to detect as such: "... Prell's lab ... Dukas led us...."</p> - -<p>Ed could still understand only scattered scraps; but the skill was -coming—now, with his body, he felt the stinging discord which must -have been a harsh laugh.</p> - -<p>Now a gust of wind from a vast swinging arm lifted the strand of floss -and the three who were tied to it upward. Beyond the view window of the -helmet, Ed saw the tremendous face—rolling plains and hills, pitted -with pores and hair follicles, and scaled with skin, beneath which the -individual living cells were easily visible, the latter mysteriously -haloed around the edges with a faint luminosity. The mouth was a long, -rilled valley, crescented into a hard grin. The nose was a crag. The -eyes were concave lakes set in rough country and islanded with iris and -pupil.</p> - -<p>"You know him, don't you, Eddie?" Barbara said.</p> - -<p>Size did not hide the bullish quality or the gimlet stare. Rather, it -emphasized an ugliness of character.</p> - -<p>"Of course," Ed answered. "Carter Loman, who was with Chief Bronson and -who spoke to us before we left. An unidentified official with whom we -made the deal to come here. Nice guy. Feels that he can be the whole of -the law out here in the remote Martian desert."</p> - -<p>Again Loman addressed his henchmen. Ed was getting better at -understanding the vibrating words: "We'll clear everything out for -shipment back home. I've got to study this equipment! But before we -even open a door we'll sterilize everything with a four per cent -neutron stream. That'll kill even that damned vitaplasm! Fascinating, -devilish stuff! Too bad, in a way, to erase it here—because I think I -know what's still around, and I'd like to see. But we can't take the -risk. A snake I might give a chance, but not a robot or robot-lover!"</p> - -<p>Loman paused, then spoke again, turning his head this way and that, -directing his words toward the invisible: "Prell, you're dead, but are -you still somehow here? What can't happen in the crazy age you helped -create? On Earth we psyched your nephew. Don't think I didn't guess -what you were doing. Now we've taken your carcass into the other room -to psych your dead brain. In a few minutes we'll know. There'll be ways -to stop your kind of folly!"</p> - -<p>As the great head continued to turn here and there questioningly, the -still-living Mitchell Prell shouted in derision: "Here I am, crusader!"</p> - -<p>But there were no microphone and sound-cone in action now, and Loman -did not hear him.</p> - -<p>Maybe Barbara's present eyes were too minute to shed tears, but her -face looked as though she were weeping. "Loman is the worst kind -of fanatic," she said. "Sure that he's right, and blind about it. -Sadistic, energetic and, I suppose, clever."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you more about him," Mitchell Prell offered softly. "His -face gives a faint glow—a fine radiation that only our eyes can see. -Radioactivity. It wouldn't be visible on Earth, where oxygen gives even -an android bodily energy. But on Mars—or wherever else that oxygen -is in short supply—vitaplasm adapts readily to other energy sources. -It would be silly for him to carry air purifiers in that helmet he's -wearing."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas looked down at his own arms. Yes, they glowed, too, though -he'd hardly noticed it before in the light of the great ato lamps.</p> - -<p>"Then Loman is an android who hates androids!" Barbara breathed. "Well, -I guess that hating one's own kind has happened often enough before. -But an android in the Interworld Police? Under physical examination, he -could never hide what he is."</p> - -<p>"Legally, they still have equal rights," Ed answered. "That much I'm -glad for. They couldn't be kept out of the Force. But there could be -other twists, not so unprejudiced. A thief sent to catch a thief, would -you say? Something strong, and full of self-hatred, sent out to match -strength? Tom Granger, and thousands of others, might think like that."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas's anger broke through at last, slow and terrible. Maybe he -had been too startled before for exact meanings to register. The other -Barbara, whom he loved, had been murdered, her body mangled. It was the -same with his own other self, and his uncle's. Those bodies had been -the one available route back to all familiar things and out of this -weird place of expanded forms, warped physical laws, keening sounds and -distances multiplied a millionfold. But now those bodies were gone. And -even if beings invisible in smallness could escape death in neutron -streams from Midas Touch pistols turned low, there would be little left -that they, in their tininess, could work with. They would be stranded -here in a microcosmos for as long as they could survive, helpless to -move even a pebble.</p> - -<p>These thoughts were fringed with a homesickness that Ed had never -before known. He wondered if a little dust-grain android could go mad. -It was Carter Loman's fault. No, the responsibility extended further -than that! To Tom Granger, the rabble-rouser, and those like him, -and those who listened. And to a renegade android leader of mythical -origin. Yes, it was Mitchell Prell's fault, too, and his own for coming -here and bringing Barbara.</p> - -<p>With his two companions, Ed Dukas floated high in the air, supported -by molecular impacts, near the helmeted head of an Atlas called Carter -Loman, and felt his fury and the helpless contrast of dimensions. -This giant, aided by his henchmen, had all of the advantage, while Ed -and his wife and uncle could be blown away merely by the wind of that -monster hand in motion.</p> - -<p>Loman was throwing words at Mitchell Prell again, his voice coming -easily through the thin face plate of his helmet. It was not a true -sound to micro-ears. Rather, it was a heavy quiver in the air, felt -with one's entire body. "Prell, I'm sure you haven't stopped existing. -Don't think that I can't understand how. And you did things to me. -There was your Moonblast, but that wasn't the worst. Everything you -stand for must be stamped out. Even if we all go with it."</p> - -<p>Maybe it was then that Ed's thoughts became crystalized. His anger was -turned cold and clear, as if by need. Although Ed was of vitaplasm -himself, he felt no loyalty to kind. In fact, he was still far from -reconciled to the condition. But an enemy of reason was an enemy to all -men of whatever sort.</p> - -<p>His wits were sharpened. Suddenly a realization of the power in -smallness came to him—combined with the hardiness and flexibility -of flesh that made even such dimensions and powers possible. Android -powers.</p> - -<p>"I guess everybody must have a breaking point of fear and -exasperation," he said softly. "We were born to it. To be crowded from -the Earth can seem a terrible idea. But maybe even that is as it should -be, and good. I can't agree that pushing everything into extinction -in an open fight can be any better. We've gained too much. There is -too much wonder ahead. And maybe, small as we are, we can quiet the -leaders. Under the right conditions, I think we could handle these -giants—even kill them if necessary. Quieting Loman and Granger might -help a little."</p> - -<p>"I know," Mitchell Prell answered. "I thought of it myself. Perhaps I -didn't have the nerve to carry the idea through. Maybe that was why I -wanted you to come to me on Mars—where I had the apparatus to change -you. Microbes are smaller than we are, yet they used to kill men."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas saw his wife wince. But this couldn't make any difference now.</p> - -<p>"Ed and Barbara, I'm sorry for all I've gotten you into," Prell added.</p> - -<p>"Don't be," Ed told him. "Who can regret a chance to try to do some -good in what seemed a hopeless conflict? Now, first, let's get out of -here, if we still can or ever could."</p> - -<p>Ed felt some of the command switching to himself—strange, because his -uncle knew far more about these regions than he did. But Mitchell Prell -was made more for study than for physical action. And he was somewhat -fuddled by the effects of the miracles he had helped produce.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="VII" id="VII">VII</a></h2> - - -<p>The colossi were piling Mitchell Prell's movable equipment into a -corner, where Midas Touch pistols, turned low, could play neutron -streams against it. Then they would no doubt scour walls, floors and -ceilings with the same corpuscular beams. The air itself would heat -up considerably. Combustible floating dust, would burn to finer dust. -Drafts would seem blasting hurricanes.</p> - -<p>"There's a way out—if we hurry," Mitchell Prell said. "Imitate my -movements."</p> - -<p>And so they swam in the atmosphere. But without other aid it would have -been slow going indeed. But the motion of dust particles revealed the -direction of air currents that could be gotten into and used to cover -distance.</p> - -<p>Still, progress back to the shelf and the microscopes, and the tiny -workshop from which they had been blown but a few minutes before, was -agonizingly slow. By luck and scanty concealment offered by the jar, -this paraphernalia had not yet been discovered or moved by Loman and -his men.</p> - -<p>Ed and his companions came to rest at last on the rough glass surface -where little machines were arranged around the vats and their apparatus.</p> - -<p>"Tools that we can use," Ed said. "And materials that we can work. -We've got to try to take some things along. To make weapons. Could we -contrive Midas Touch pistols that we could hold?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe," Prell answered. "I hope so. Take this, and that—and that over -there. Hurry."</p> - -<p>Creatures of vitaplasm, with its complex combinations of silicon -compounds paralleling the hydrocarbons, and its internal metabolism -that could even involve transmutation and subatomic energy release, -still could die under sufficiently violent conditions.</p> - -<p>The three tiny androids scrambled to gather supplies and to equip -themselves. Ed was awkward in the new conditions, where even the -atmosphere tried to tear him away from any firm foothold. But he loaded -himself down.</p> - -<p>Before they were finished gathering all that they could use, the rattle -and flare of Midas Touch weapons, turned low so as not to damage -Mitchell Prell's various apparatus, but strong enough to destroy any -clinging speck of synthetic life that Carter Loman might suspect -the presence of, began behind them. Prell's experimental plant life -withered slowly.</p> - -<p>"Lead on!" Ed Dukas shouted.</p> - -<p>And so, though hurricanes had begun for them, they crept across the -glazed surface beneath the barrel of the little electron microscope -and dropped into the air at its edge. It was like leaping from a -cliff. But it was different, too. For if they had not been so heavily -burdened, they might not even have fallen. Being such small objects, -they had a greater exposed surface than large objects, in proportion to -their bulk. This greater surface, like a sail presented to the wind, -offered a larger area for speeding molecules to hit; hence, without the -equipment, they would have been as buoyant as dust particles.</p> - -<p>Still lashed together by their joining strand of floss, the three -fugitives drifted slowly down to the rear of the shelf.</p> - -<p>"An inch more to go," Prell shouted, in grim humor. "A rather long one, -I'm afraid."</p> - -<p>Again they crept. Rough stone of the cupboardlike compartment rose -around them, seemingly taller than buildings they had known. And it -glowed reddish-violet. Fluorescence, it must be, from the scattered -radiations of the Midas Touch weapons. Tediously the three crawled -toward escape, as if through a night of fire and violence. Finally they -reached a minute steel door in the corner of the cupboard, half hidden -in the roughness of the stone.</p> - -<p>They closed the door behind them and refastened its crude bolt. The -space around them now was narrower—more in proportion to their own -size. And there was a glow here—at least to their final eyesight. -Perhaps there was a trace of radioactive ore in the rock causing the -glow. The walls were as rough as a cave's.</p> - -<p>"Just a chink in the stone," Barbara commented.</p> - -<p>"Yes," Prell replied. "A crevice leading out to the face of the rock -formation. Feel the draft of Martian night air? It would smother -and freeze you if you were as you were born. But our flesh not only -resists cold, it can create plenty of warmth within itself. We will be -perfectly comfortable here, and safe—I think. Do you want to rest?"</p> - -<p>"No," Barbara told him. "We don't really need that, either, do we? So -let's begin what must be done. What are our plans, Ed?"</p> - -<p>"We'll make a few things, if we can," Ed replied. "Then get to a -spaceport somehow. I suppose that if we pick the right wind at the -right time, it will blow us there—eh, Uncle Mitch? Then we'll do as -you did—drift into a space liner and get a free ride back home to -Earth. There—well, we'll see. If we're very, very lucky, we might -even get our old selves back."</p> - -<p>Just then that recovery seemed to be his greatest, most desperate -yearning, with many, many obstacles in its way. Even their personal -recordings were in enemy hands now. Small though those cylinders were, -they were far too huge for them to move or to think of recapturing.</p> - -<p>"Where can we start to work?" Ed said to his uncle.</p> - -<p>"Farther along the cleft," Prell told him. "I've already cached some -supplies there. And there's a level space in a side cleft protected -from these constant air currents."</p> - -<p>Now they leaped upward and let the draft carry them. The muted quivers -of destruction in the chambers from which they had just escaped, they -left behind them. They arrived in the work area and got busy at once.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Near dawn they felt the quiverings of unusual sounds. So they followed -air currents, betrayed by drifting particles of fluorescent dust, to a -crack that showed starshot sky and the undulating desert. Thus they saw -Carter Loman's caravan start back toward Port Karnak, with its booty -of all that Mitchell Prell had made here: the fruit of a man's mind. -But to Loman it was also the worst of the world's inventions. Loman was -an android and also, obviously, a central figure, a personage of some -importance, or he would not have been sent on this mission. But his -mind remained that of a bigot.</p> - -<p>Just then Ed Dukas found a savage pleasure in shaking one of the -smallest fists ever to exist at the three retreating tractor vehicles. -"Loman, Granger and the rest of you," he said, "there'll come a time. -You've been fools. You were born too late."</p> - -<p>The work went on for days—more tediously than Ed could have imagined, -even with only hand tools to use. The same old metals seemed -unbelievably hard at this size level—and coarse in texture—as if the -atoms themselves had expanded. Barbara could scrub and scrub with a -bit of abrasive mineral, achieving only what seemed a poor excuse for -a polish. Hammering did little good in shaping such metals, though Ed -Dukas and Mitchell Prell were relatively so much stronger than they had -been. Only cutting and pressure tools were effective, when aided by -the softening heat of a forge—a tiny speck of nuclear incandescence -maintained by a neutron stream and carefully screened, though -vitaplasm, being actively or latently radioactive itself, was far less -endangered by radiation than protoplasm.</p> - -<p>But at last they produced three rough, cylindrical devices and their -fittings.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas began to adjust to littleness. But to see boulders with their -stratified layers of mica floating lazily through the thin air never -lost its wonder. Crazy beauty was all around: strange, rich colors; -keening musical notes—fine overtones of normal sounds. Sometimes, in -the daylight, near cracks open to the outdoors, you saw living things -seldom bigger than yourself: Martian life; little pincushions of -deep, translucent purple veined with red and pronged with cilia of an -indescribably warm hue. These were Martian microorganisms blown in by -the breeze.</p> - -<p>And once there was something else that Ed and Barbara both saw: -something like the smallest of Earthly insects, but not that, either. -A thing of steel-blue filaments and great eyes, and vibrating vanes as -glossy as transparent plastic. Ed knew that he could shatter it with -his hands. It rested in the sunshine for a moment; then it was gone.</p> - -<p>"I suppose that there are star worlds as odd as this," Barbara -commented.</p> - -<p>She was strange herself—an elfin being that floated in the air, her -form dimly aglow whenever there was shadow or darkness. To Ed, she -was part of his vast separation from Earth. In accustoming himself to -an environment where even the simple act of walking was a memory, it -seemed that Earth dimmed away, easily yet frighteningly, like a dream, -until Ed knew that, degree by degree, his mind was becoming different -than it had been, and he not quite the same person. And it seemed more -so with Babs.</p> - -<p>"Bacon and eggs for breakfast, Eddie," she teased once, lightly. "Walks -under old trees beside a river. The Youth Center. Teachers I used to -know. Yes, I remember. But the memory tries to get dim. And I want to -hold on. Got to, because there are things to be done. But sometimes I -wonder if I shouldn't regret the duty. I think of swimming in raindrops -or floating high over trees—being as whimsical as children and poets -can imagine. We could do it! It's part of being super, isn't it? And I -used to be scared of becoming an android!"</p> - -<p>It was fun, and relief from grimness, to hear her talk like that. And -now, too, he half agreed that being of synthetic substance was not so -bad. Yet part of him still ached savagely for his old dimensions. And -here in smallness he sometimes felt that she was changing so much that -he was losing her—that she would let herself be blown away into the -vastness, never to be seen again.</p> - -<p>They ate a food-jelly, which Prell had prepared long ago for his -sojourn here, and radioactive silicates. In it you could see the -thready molecular chains and the beads of moisture between. Viscosity -complicated etiquette. Everything tried to stick to you. You laughed -and shook it off as best you could.</p> - -<p>But even in fantastic moments grim facts didn't truly fade. Hard work -helped sustain them. Murder and loss were too new. The danger on Earth -was still too plain—perhaps poised on hours or weeks of time. Speed -was the keynote.</p> - -<p>Only once the three micro-beings peeped back into the lab that had -belonged to Mitchell Prell, colossus. It was empty now, glowing with -the taint of radiation left by the Midas Touch pistols. No one had -troubled to neutralize it, as had surely been done with the removed -equipment.</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell had built a radio, like one he had owned before. A flake -of quartz dust, a few rough strands of metal, an insignificant power -supply. Simple, compact. Certain crystals were sensitive to radio -waves. And at these tremendously reduced dimensions, they could convert -tiny induced electric currents almost directly into fine sound waves -that infinitely refined ears could hear.</p> - -<p>So Ed Dukas heard the interplanetary newscast again: "... Android -groups are still massing in large numbers to seek safety among -their own kind and perhaps to carry out their own plans. There is a -superficial calm. Fear of consequences so far seems to have kept both -sides in check. We hope that it can hold."</p> - -<p>Later there was a broadcast from Port Smitty: "... This information was -withheld but has now been released. The mystery of Mitchell Prell's -disappearance is believed solved after ten years. What is claimed to -be his body—much damaged, since he and his confederates, one of whom -is supposed to be a close relative, resisted capture and had to be -shot down—was brought in to Port Smitty and is now en route to Earth, -along with some mysterious equipment. The man who tracked Prell down -is Carter Loman, a scientist in his own right, who has had a brief -but brilliant career in Interworld Security. Detailed information is -under seal, but Prell, a known advocate of 'improved mankind,' has been -wanted for questioning and possible indictment for a long time. It has -been suggested that his researches had gone further than most would -dare to imagine."</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell, micro-being, chuckled. "The funny part," he remarked, -"is that I never became a full-size android myself. My old carcass -seemed good enough. Or I didn't get around to a change."</p> - -<p>But Ed didn't smile at this. And he looked savage when one of Tom -Granger's speeches was rebroadcast: "Prell ended? Can we believe it? -There is an evil that could restore him in known ways. Now are there -unknowns, too? Haven't we had enough? Some things from drunken visions -are destroyed, but others come, to make our nights hideous. A creature -with a fifty-foot wingspread swoops down on a house, and people die. -Are androids any different from what they create? But we are fortified, -armed. If we must, we'll fight to the last."</p> - -<p>No doubt there was truth behind the melodramatic oratory—at least as -far as the horror was concerned. Barbara smiled sadly.</p> - -<p>"He's earnest, I think," she offered. "So there's that much glory and -courage in him, if there isn't any control. And you keep wondering, Is -he half right?"</p> - -<p>"I know," Ed answered with some contrition. "But I'd rather have what -he considers a scientific hell than nothing. Well, we'll soon be en -route back to Earth—unseen. Then maybe we'll find out and accomplish -something. Lack of sense, like Granger's, or the muddled way in which -laws are often interpreted now, will never work. That's one fact I'm -sure of, even in a booby-trapped situation."</p> - -<p>Ed was trying to be optimistic. In three weeks they had made equipment -that they thought they could use. The three cylinders were Midas Touch -pistols—neutron blast guns that could explode a few of the atoms of -any solid or liquid that their beams touched. They also had a dozen -grenades of the same principle and tubes to carry scant rations. There -was a radio for each of the three—for reception, but also limitedly -useful as transmitters. And there were knapsacks and clothing made from -linten fiber pounded and divided as Prell had never bothered to do.</p> - -<p>"We'll catch the first Earth-bound ship that we can," Prell said. -"Queer, isn't it? If we could truly walk, going a mile would seem -impossible. But the prevailing winds and a little jockeying will get us -to Port Karnak. The tube train will take us to the space ships."</p> - -<p>Prell had spoken too soon. Within that same hour, listening to the -newscast, they learned: "For security reasons, interplanetary traffic -has been indefinitely suspended."</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas winced as if in pain. He and Barbara and Prell looked at one -another. In Ed's strange, small body, frustration and bitter anger -fairly hummed.</p> - -<p>"Security reasons." That could be a blanket excuse—minus -explanations—for almost anything. Loman, knowing of something inimical -and microscopic, and guessing at an intended journey from Mars, could -well have had a hand in the suspension order. He was wary, and not sure -that he had destroyed his hidden enemies.</p> - -<p>The three stared down at the equipment that they had toiled so hard -to produce. But Ed, like many another man before him who had been -cornered, couldn't have quit even if he had willed it. Stubborn spunk, -fear, need to regain losses, self-preservation and the awareness of the -danger of millions of well-intentioned individuals, both android and -human, all took part in the reason. And you could add the ancient and -primal lust for revenge.</p> - -<p>Ed crouched with the others on the rough floor of their chink in -the rock. "Wait," he said at last. "Haven't small objects crossed -space naturally—at least in hypothesis? Yes! Spores—living dust, -their vital functions suspended. The old Arrhenius Theory of the -propagation of life from world to world and solar system to solar -system—throughout the universe. A spore, drifting high in an -atmosphere, achieves escape velocity through molecular impacts and -perhaps the pressure of solar light. It's driven into space, and -onward. Uncle Mitch, couldn't the same thing happen to us far more -readily, since we're not inert and we have minds to help direct our -movements? Since we have beams of massive neutrons from the Midas Touch -weapons? And aren't we more rugged than the first androids? Wouldn't we -have a middling chance to endure raw space itself?"</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell eyed him quietly. Perhaps even his android cheeks -blanched a trifle. "Something like that occurred to me once—a long -time ago, Ed," he remarked at last, his voice very calm. "I didn't -think it through. I guess it seemed just too out of the ordinary even -for me. And there wasn't any need to try it. Perhaps I was scared."</p> - -<p>"There's need now," Ed said.</p> - -<p>Barbara's expression was a study of eagerness and half fear. "Eddie, -have you maybe discovered something?" she exclaimed. "Uncle Mitch, if -there is any chance that it would work, I'm game to try it!"</p> - -<p>After a moment the scientist nodded. "I believe that there's a good -chance it will work," he said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Before the next sunup they were ready. Clothed in garments of linten -fiber, they looked like savages from fifty thousand years before. Yet -their present condition could have belonged to no primitive era. They -were united by a tough line of twisted strands, and their equipment was -lashed to their backs. To human eyes they would have been as invisible -as spirits. Were they to demonstrate, even unintentionally, android -superiority in yet another field? Maybe, maybe not.</p> - -<p>From the outlet of the crevice in the rock, they flung themselves into -the atmosphere above the gray desert. Their great advantage at this -stage was that, at the Martian dawn fringe, there were many updrafts, -for the air, chilled fearfully at night, was already warming. At -once they were sucked upward, as if by a vertical wind. Still, the -first phase of their climb took many hours. They kept watching for -upward-moving motes to guide them. Short, rocketlike bursts of heavy -neutrons from their Midas Touch cylinders provided the reaction or kick -to get them into the swiftest vertical currents.</p> - -<p>Mars dropped far below, a dun plain marked here and there by the -straight, artificial valleys or "canals." The relative vastness of a -world to beings of pinpoint dimensions was nullified by the distance of -altitude, until it looked no more extensive than it would have to the -eyes that used to be theirs. Mars developed a visible curvature and a -rim of haze, fired to redness by the rising sun. The sky above darkened -from hard, deep blue toward the blackness of space, and the stars -sharpened. The sun blazed whitely, and the frosty wings of its corona -began to show. The thinning atmosphere seemed to develop a definite -surface far beneath the three voyagers.</p> - -<p>They had spoken little in their ascent; but now the free movement of -sound was smothered by the increasing vacuum, and there were only -gestures and lip movements to convey meanings.</p> - -<p>But there was not much that really needed to be said. The plan remained -simple: get into trains of upward-jetting molecules, marked by small -blurs or warpings of light. Absorb some of that upward surge into -yourselves. How often had this same thing happened, without conscious -design? Molecules move fast in a high vacuum. Molecular velocity was -heat, wasn't it? But here it could not burn. For heat is chained to -matter, and here there was just not enough matter to be hot.</p> - -<p>Ed thought that they must be getting close to the Martian velocity of -escape now. Only three-point-two miles per second. They might have -attained it more simply by making greater use of their Midas Touch -cylinders. There was scarcely any reactive thrust more efficient than -that of neutrons hurled at almost the speed of light. But there was a -pride in accomplishing it in a more difficult way. Besides, the energy -supply for the weapons must be conserved.</p> - -<p>But now Prell signaled with his hand, and they began to use the -cylinders in earnest, shifting their course little by little from the -vertical and in the direction of the sun. For it was time to curve -inward—earthward. Swiftly now, there was no molecular distortion -around them at all. Sense of motion faded out. Their high velocity was -demonstrated only by the rapid shrinking of Mars behind them; unless, -from sunward there came a minute, resisting thrust. Light pressure? But -it would take a longer time in space than they meant to be to slow them -down at all.</p> - -<p>"We've done this much!" Ed said with his lips, but without a voice.</p> - -<p>Barbara nodded and tried to smile, and he reached out and pressed her -hand. Prell looked awed and bemused.</p> - -<p>Ed tried then to read part of their fortunes in the reactions of his -strange, minute body to the rigors of space. It was an atomic mechanism -more than it was a chemical one. Therefore, it needed no breath. And -the strong, radiant energy of the sun warmed it a little, so he did -not feel cold. Hard ultraviolet light seemed not to harm it. There was -only a sensation as of the shrinking of its hide—perhaps an adaptive -reaction of its demoniac vitality—to protect the trace of moisture -within it against the dryness of space. The fluid within vitaplasm -could be alcohol or liquid air—it was that adaptable. Prell had said -this recently. Such fluids did not freeze easily. But they evaporated. -So water remained the best body fluid in dry space. For in the full -light of the sun, and with a nuclear metabolism, freezing was not a -great danger.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Several days out from Mars the three contacted a small meteor -swarm—maybe a fragment of a comet moving sunward and earthward. They -moved with the swarm and landed on a chunk of whitish rock perhaps -eight inches through at its largest diameter. But to them it was an -airless world into which they could burrow, blocking the entrance to -their shelter with chalky dust—a fortunate thing, for in the open the -sun's glare and aridity of space were drying out even their android -tissues and blurring their minds.</p> - -<p>The meteor proved not quite lifeless, for on it clear crystalline -needles crumbled and rose again. Call it silicon biology, proving that -one could never know where something might thrive. In a fall into any -atmosphere, such growth would surely be burned away without a trace.</p> - -<p>Ed and Barbara and Prell learned to understand silent speech by -watching lip movements. The need for hurry still beat in their minds, -but drowsiness crept over them—perhaps another androidal adaptability -was functioning here, related to the hibernation of animals in winter. -It lessened loss of vitality when conditions were not too favorable. -But you could resist its compulsions if you applied your will.</p> - -<p>The meteor moved on swiftly in the general direction of Earth. The -journey would take weeks, and though Ed felt that never had there been -a crossing of distance as eerily strange as this one, still the passage -of time, and the events it held, was always with him and his companions.</p> - -<p>There was a way for them still to experience real sounds, even here. -The quartz-flake radio sets, pressed tight to their ears, transmitted -vibrations through their own substance, when there was no air. They -heard fragments of broadcasts coming from Earth. Pictures of what was -happening there came to mind:</p> - -<p>A score of monsters destroyed by hunting parties. A side issue, really. -For in guard post and sketchily fortified line, man faced the hardier -likeness that his knowledge had produced. When there were no clearly -defined geographical boundaries to separate the poised forces, you -never knew just where those lines would be.</p> - -<p>But the scared, the pleading, the exhorting voices, faint in the -distance, gave the mood, if not the clear view. Tom Granger was there, -and others like him. The latest claim was that vitaplasm gave off -poisonous radioactive radiations—not very true on Earth, where its -vital energy remained mainly chemical.</p> - -<p>Those with sense also tried to be heard. And there were other voices -calling for the retreat to simplicity and the doing of work by hand. -Such a pastoral of white clouds, green hills and sunshine could -have its appeal. But how could its philosophy and inefficiency feed -billions? Even if it were not just a bright vision seen before the last -battle?</p> - -<p>And in the midst of all this babble, there was another voice that was -faint thunder: "... Got things of our own now, here in the woods! Even -our own newscast station. Damn, we've taken enough! We Phonies won't go -back no further! Time to be stubborn—even if we all die for it and -never come back! They say folks would like to hang me—which shows how -much wits they've got! Even if they got the chance, it wouldn't work!"</p> - -<p>With a faint smile, Barbara's lips formed the name for her companions -to read: "Abel Freeman...."</p> - -<p>Ed nodded, watching his uncle's quizzical interest over an individual -and a legend that he had only heard them tell about. And Ed had his own -reactions, compounded of admiration, humor and icy mistrust that came -close to hatred. Whatever else he was, Abel Freeman was also a figure -of power.</p> - -<p>Barbara's pixyish mouth—she was more than ever a pixy—shaped other -words as they crouched at the entrance of a tiny cave that they had -excavated into their meteor. Outside, the sunshine blazed.</p> - -<p>"I've almost said it before, Ed," she remarked. "All these things -happening on Earth are still important to me—never fear. But I'm -a little too different now to quite belong to it. It gets like a -dream—kind of remote."</p> - -<p>Ed had been feeling this himself—almost with panic, because he was -enough the person he had been to ache inside with the importance and -tension of what happened at home. Yet somehow part of him was drifting -away on its own special course.</p> - -<p>"Hold on, Babs, a little longer," he urged.</p> - -<p>They fell into torpid sleep after they had devised a mechanism to -arouse them with an electric shock at an appointed time. It conserved -their strength and allowed them to pass the long interval quickly.</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas's slumber was not altogether dreamless. Like shadows, -people moved in his mind. His parents. His old friend Les Payten, -who perhaps had shown the white feather and had been lost to a small -viewpoint. Schaeffer, one of the greatest scientists, barricaded in -his underground lab in the City. And Harwell, the efficient but daring -adventurer—another legend of his boyhood, who sometime was supposed -to command the first star ship. And perhaps most of all, there was that -fantastic android bigot, Carter Loman, who aroused his black fury.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Ed slept lighter than the others and awoke more quickly to the -tingling prickle of electricity, because he had to run the show. The -major burden of responsibility was his.</p> - -<p>He shook his wife and his uncle awake and pointed to the blue-green -bead that was the Earth, still several million miles away. Lashing -their equipment to their shoulders and tying onto one another's waists -like Alpine climbers, they leapt back into space one more, pushed by -the neutron thrust of their Midas Touch cylinders. They had to make the -rest of their trip apart from their meteor, which would not pass any -nearer to Earth.</p> - -<p>When the home planet was expanded by nearness to a great, mottled, -fuzzy bubble, Ed tugged at the line for attention and spoke without -sound in the stinging silence: "We've talked everything over before," -he said. "So we know generally what to do—though only generally. We'd -like to stick together. But there is just no way to do that and work -fast—which may be a vital point. So we'll soon have to scatter. But -we'll listen on our receivers. At least one of us should be able to -find a way to communicate back. Failing that, we still know where to -meet. Remember—the oak by my old house. The valley made by the trunk -and the lowest branch."</p> - -<p>Prell's brows knitted, his mind probably steeped in the swift, strange -action to come. Barbara gave a soundless laugh.</p> - -<p>"The crotch of an oak!" her lips commented. "What a trysting place! But -it seems natural enough. Are we mad, or were we once just dull?"</p> - -<p>Was her gaiety just bravado, or was she as cool as she seemed? Ed hoped -that she was cool. Tugging at the linten line that joined them, Ed drew -himself close to her.</p> - -<p>"You don't have to speak, Eddie," she told him. "I know what you're -thinking. But why shouldn't I—and all of us—be all right?"</p> - -<p>Her face had sobered. She looked strong. And so he was somewhat -relieved. He kissed her. Perhaps it was odd that dust-mote beings still -could do that.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII">VIII</a></h2> - - -<p>Ed and Barbara and Prell came to the parting of the ways sooner than -they had intended. Without instruments, it was hard to judge velocity. -They did not use their Midas Touch cylinders quite long enough to check -speed sufficiently as they approached the great blue-green planet with -its blurred ring. They hit the atmosphere, not really fast, but fast -enough. Briefly, sound was reborn around them in a shrieking whistle, -like a vast, thin wind. They tumbled over and over, and the strand -that kept them together was broken. Tumultuous currents of the high -ionosphere separated and scattered them as they plummeted lower.</p> - -<p>Ed was unhurt. And did he hear—more in his imagination than his ears, -here in the muffling semi-vacuum—a distant laugh and shout: "It's -all right, Eddie ..."? The impression faded away, like the voice of -some gay sprite vanishing. He'd thought before of losing Barbara. Now -they were two specks, separated from each other in the infinity of the -terrestrial atmosphere. Even with the logic of plan and method, there -was still some unbelief about how they would ever find each other again.</p> - -<p>Using his radio, he tried to call. But there was no answer. The -microscopic instrument could pick up messages from powerful stations -millions of miles away. But for transmission, its range and that of -those like it had to be ridiculously short: perhaps a score of yards—a -fair distance in proportionate units.</p> - -<p>Ed was drifting now, alone and high, as his wife and uncle must be, -too. Well, they'd meant this to happen soon anyway. So there was no -real difference, was there? Get down to work quickly, down to the -surface, where the high clouds seemed to lie flat on the gray Atlantic -and on the nearby greenery of the continent. Ed's cylinder flamed, -forcing him lower toward the City. His first chosen task was to find -Carter Loman, a key enemy. Prell's objective was Tom Granger; then he -would try to contact the androids, perhaps through Abel Freeman. And -Barbara was to try to spike the trigger of violence by whatever means -she could. That, in fact, was the greatest purpose of them all.</p> - -<p>Downdrafts aided Ed's descent, while he listened to his quartz-chip -radio. Was one who figured as prominently as Loman in the strained -news of the day ever difficult to find? Ed did not anticipate too -much trouble in locating him. Many people would know where Loman was -and mention of the place would be frequent. Crowds would follow him -everywhere.</p> - -<p>As Ed watched a wolfish patrol of armed spacecraft, flying low on their -atmospheric foils, the information came easily enough: "... Carter -Loman's quarters at the Three Worlds Hotel are constantly under guard."</p> - -<p>Ed was far more proficient now in getting around swiftly in the region -of smallness. Erratically but effectively, using currents of air and -the thrust of his Midas Touch blast, he descended toward a sky-piercing -tower. He drifted into the doorway of the hotel's sumptuous lobby, -marred now by the grim additions of radiation shields. For a few -minutes Ed perched on the reception desk; he was less noticeable there -than a fleck of cigarette ash.</p> - -<p>There were constant inquiries for Loman, by telephone and in person, -made mostly by newscast men. The clerks fended them off briskly. But -soon there came whispered thunder, so low that it was almost audible to -Ed as sound and not merely sensible as a heavy vibration: "More mail -for Mr. Loman...."</p> - -<p>The spark of Ed's propelling cylinder was almost too small to see as he -jetted to the heavy bundle of letters and rode up with the attendant, -past the guards, and slid with a skittering envelope through a mail -slot, and into Carter Loman's presence.</p> - -<p>He was sprawled on a bed and was clad in full vacuum armor of a type -heavier than would have been necessary even on a dead world. It was -pronged with special details as well: filaments, like parts of the -insides of a Midas Touch weapon. Hovering over the vast shape, Ed felt -the hard, stinging punch of a few scattered neutrons hitting his body -before he ventured too close. Even though his own life was subatomic in -principle, enough of those infinitesimal pellets could kill him. Loman -had evidently grown wary and nervous, guessing with shrewd imagination -what dangers he might now face. In addition to his massive costume, -this android who hated his kind was wearing an aura of low-speed -neutrons, constantly being projected from the filaments on his armor. -Just then, the savagery inside Ed felt its bitter frustration. Loman -even mistrusted the ban on space travel.</p> - -<p>The enormous face beneath him, framed beyond the glaze of a helmet -window, did not look at ease. Loman was muttering. He must have been at -it, off and on, for a long time: "I wouldn't be surprised if you were -around, Prell. Or even you, Dukas. I was right! I know all about your -little self, Prell. It was all in your dead brain. You think you'll -play a reverse David against Goliath, eh? If blasting out your lab -didn't kill you...."</p> - -<p>No, Ed Dukas was not so easily defeated. The aura of neutrons thrown -out only by scattered filaments was probably not of continuous -intensity. At certain points there might well be chinks in it, at which -time he could slip to close quarters without having his own nuclear -metabolism speeded up to the point of his destruction. But before he -did anything final, he had to find out where Prell's stolen equipment -was.</p> - -<p>Ed felt the whir of the air-filtering apparatus in the room and smiled. -And there was a television globe nearby. Ed could have found ways, now, -to make his own tiny voice audible to his enemy and to challenge him. -But Ed decided against this for the present. He mustn't waste precious -time, yet he suspected that he could depend on the restlessness of a -nervous foe not to wait here quietly very long.</p> - -<p>Again he was right. Perched on a ledge made by an irregularity of the -wall, Ed waited less than five minutes before Carter Loman jumped -up from the bed, cursed, and dashed from the room. Ed's Midas Touch -cylinder reddened in his hand as he jetted after him. Of firmer flesh -than other men, Loman hurried untiring, even in his massive armor and -plastic helmet, down a back stairs, passing a hundred levels.</p> - -<p>Then he was in a small, powerful car racing along a civic speedway that -Ed remembered well. Clinging to plush that was like a dense forest -under him, Ed remained undislodged by the tornadoes of air that came -from speed.</p> - -<p>Around him passed beauty that he used to know, expanded so enormously -that much of the familiar mood of it was lost; and he himself seemed -cut off from it, like a ghost coming back. But there was other, perhaps -greater beauty, too—closer to the heart of what he was now. There'd -been a controlled shower induced by the weather towers. Now the sun -shone again, and the air sparkled, not with dust, but with countless -tiny droplets of moisture—crystal globes, clear as lenses, but -breaking the sunshine into brilliant prismatic hues.</p> - -<p>Ed's brief rambling of mind ended when Loman did an odd thing. He -stopped in Ed's old neighborhood, after having passed a half-dozen road -blocks where uniformed men had entrenched themselves, covering their -ugly vehicles with cut branches. Loman had only flashed his Interworld -Security badge at each post, to receive respectful permission to go on.</p> - -<p>Loman stopped his car abruptly before a house adjacent to Ed's own—one -Ed knew well. But Ed had an odd feeling that this was not as strange as -it seemed. This suburb, close to the City, harbored many of the noted -and notorious. Besides, many recent turbulent events had been centered -within these few hundred square miles. And Loman had been in the -neighborhood before, in the company of Police Chief Bronson. Also, had -there always been something disturbingly familiar about Loman's manner?</p> - -<p>Ed tingled at the unraveling of an enigma, as Loman hurried up the walk -to the house. Loman found the door locked, but if this annoyed him, it -stopped him not at all. An armored shoulder, backed up by the muscles -of his kind—their power rarely demonstrated publicly—battered the -door to splinters and Loman stepped through.</p> - -<p>Ed followed him—as unobtrusive as part of the atmosphere—up a -stairway and into a pleasant student room seen in colossal scale.</p> - -<p>It was Les Payten's room which had thus been invaded without ceremony. -Nor was the intruding colossus the least abashed that the giant Les, -somewhat thinned down and pallid after his long convalescence from a -visit to Abel Freeman, was present.</p> - -<p>Ed saw his old friend's startled expression, then felt the vibration of -his words: "Chummy, aren't you, bursting in like this? The police, eh? -What have <i>I</i> done? My God, I've seen your picture! You're Loman!"</p> - -<p>The other giant's smirk was half gentle, half bullishly humorous. -"That's my name—if you prefer," he said. "I've had you watched, Lester -Payten, for various reasons. You've been ill. Then why do you stay so -close to what may become the battle lines? You're an odd guy, Lester. -Too much fear, courage and conscience. Wanting to be a hero, but half -a martyr. Recently one of the 'reasonable' kind. Soon there won't -be any of those left. Not when a few more see those they love torn -open, crisped or perhaps crushed by created things more hideous than -Tyrannosaurus Rex. Such facts destroy the folly of thoughtfulness. And, -good! For in that way the showdown comes against another kind of slime -that desecrates the form of man! You're a mixed-up kid, Lester—maybe -even thinking of some old companions. But in your heart you know that -you're all human. Me, I'm still sentimental, so I had to come to you at -last. You ought to be safe among the asteroids, like your timid mother."</p> - -<p>Being an audience to these comments, Ed's first puzzlement changed -slowly toward comprehension of a weird truth. Drifting with the air -molecules near the center of the room, he watched Les Payten sitting -quietly at his desk, his look also showing that he was at the fringe -of understanding. But maybe his mind half refused to plunge into the -starkness of fact beyond. Too much had become possible. Sometimes it -might be a land too strange for human wits.</p> - -<p>Maybe primitive terror prompted Les to sudden violence. Or it was the -sickening cynicism in Loman's words. In a flash of movement Les tried -to get a weapon from his desk. Confronted by a human being, he might -have succeeded. But Loman even dared, first, to shut off the neutronic -aura around his armor, so as not to burn or kill the one he had come to -see. Then quick fingers latched onto Les's wrists. Les fought with all -his might but was pushed down on the floor. Dazed, he looked up at his -conqueror.</p> - -<p>"Yes, your memory-man father killed himself," Loman said. "But he -could always return by recording, couldn't he? Before that, it was -all arranged—with many who sympathized with the human cause. The -mind probe showed that my expressed views were truthful. Interworld -Security could use someone who was clever, unknown, and supremely -active. Umhm-m—maybe I'm even harder than they hoped! Yes, I'm still -an android, Les, because I have to be strong for battle. I hardly care -who learns of it now, because the fight is sure to come. But I'll be a -man again, when and if I can. And, like a man, I love my son. Things -will become very difficult soon, Lester. So I want you with me."</p> - -<p>Loman's heavy growl might have sounded paternal to common ears. But he -capped it with a light tap to Les's jaw. Les crumpled. For a moment -this fantastic echo of his original sire, changed in face and form, -stood over him, an armored demon by any standard.</p> - -<p>The sun had set. From the twilight beyond the window came blue flashes, -light heat lightning, off toward the wooded hills. They glinted on -Loman's plastic face window, which had muffled his words scarcely at -all. Loman seemed to match those flickers: science misused; wisdom, -once reached for so carefully, fading; the collected armaments, -improvised quickly by a master technology hidden in tunnel and on -mountain-top, by both sides. And the guts of a star ship engine -perverted. Once, on a lost Moon, a thing like that had exploded, just -by error or chance. There had been no wild speeches to bring it about. -Nor any panic. And there had been no Lomans to help in a more savage -way.</p> - -<p>Unless driving impulses were checked, the end could come this very -night. Ed even wondered if he might waste valuable time sticking close -to Loman any longer. Would it lead to more answers, as he had felt it -must? Well, he still was sure of that, and Loman also seemed driven by -haste. So Ed alighted on Les's shoulder and burrowed into the cloth. -It was the safest thing to do. For whatever weapon might be used, it -probably would not be directed at Les.</p> - -<p>Loman picked up the unconscious form and dashed out to his car. There -followed a wild ride along winding roads through the woods. Distantly, -on a hilltop, Ed saw a metal framework slanting skyward. It held a -cylinder whose neutron beam could level anything. But its power supply -could mean complete destruction in a last resort to madness, for -revenge—if someone lost control of himself, smashed the safety stops -on controls, pushed levers a little beyond them.</p> - -<p>There were wrecks on the road. Horror had been exchanged already, as -refugees fled the City. Beside one broken car, half fused to a puddle -of fire lay the body of a child, briefly glimpsed. And Ed detected -a man's cries and protests, flung wildly at the sky from among the -shadowy trees. Or could it have come just as well from an android -throat?</p> - -<p>If it was Jones of common human clay or Smith, an android, could it -make any difference? Yet it was an old thing—a reasonable man's -anguish against wrong.</p> - -<p>Still, was it hard to see a sequel, when something snapped in the -brain? A kind of explosion. Then, before horror and rage, immortality -or death could become equally meaningless. Good sense and kindness, -once clung to desperately, could then become zero, and Earth, sky -and humanity empty phantoms. Then could you picture the wronged one -awaiting someone of the other kind? Could you picture him aiming his -own weapon at another car and holding its trigger down until his own -curses were lost in the roar of incandescence?</p> - -<p>Ed Dukas rode on through the dusk in Loman's car, still clinging to -the fabric at the shoulder of his inert friend, Les Payten. The sky -still flickered—warning barrages, not yet aimed to kill. An aircraft -swooped, its weapons shredding a high-flying horror that was not -of metal. Some had been destroyed, but others always came—though -they never had been truly numerous. A few other cars sped along the -road—persons fleeing the dangerous congestion of the City.</p> - -<p>Ed wondered if the steady <i>ping ping ping</i> in his quartz-chip radio -was the ultra-sonic evidence of a spy beam in action, perhaps meant to -trace Loman's course? At last the forces of law might do that to their -own, if some of them disagreed with Loman's zeal or suspected that it -had become too extreme. Chief Bronson, for one, had seemed a likable -man. Besides, even after a mind probe, many would mistrust an android.</p> - -<p>Ed reasoned that this must be a flight to a hide-out, which he had to -see.</p> - -<p>The car careened for a mile along a narrow side road, where, behind -high banks, the pinging stopped. Had Loman counted on their shielding -effect? Deeper in the woods, a block of undergrowth folded upward on -a hinge, and the car rolled inside. Then the great trap door closed -behind it. Ed was not surprised even by so elaborate a retreat as -this. Now, with his neutronic aura cut off, Loman bore Les through a -low doorway, into a great, low chamber fused out of bedrock. Could -Loman and Mitchell Prell be as alike as this in their choice of secret -places? Queer—and yet not so queer. Both were scientists. Prell had -invaded the field of biology and Loman, in his original incarnation as -Ronald Payten, had been a biologist from the start.</p> - -<p>Ed might have attacked, now that Loman's aura was inactive. But it -could be restored in an instant. Better to wait. A clearer chance might -well come. His enemy might even be trying to lure any small, unseen -intruder close to the coils of the aura.</p> - -<p>Besides, in the soft artificial light, answers lay—answers that Ed -had only dimly suspected, in spite of Loman's background. Since he -had learned who Loman was, there hadn't been time enough for him to -understand. But now the solution to a dreadful mystery came easily, -because Ed could intrude here unseen.</p> - -<p>There were vats here, too, vaster than any Ed had ever seen from any -viewpoint and webbed with their attendant apparatus. Beneath the glossy -surface of the fluid, like smooth oceans in the floor, various shapes -were visible—all devilish but half transparent in their undeveloped -state, their smooth plates of vitaplasm muscle and scale showing, but -already alive and in slight, undulating motion. And no doubt these -things were only in the embryonic state. They could grow much huger -after being set free to hide and kill. Here, then, was the devil's -brewpot of creation. Here the first slithering synthetic monsters must -have been blueprinted and created. It was Ronald Payten's work—the -product of his skill and his secret quirks. Madness in vitaplasm, to -help build hate between android and man and bring the conflict to a -climax.</p> - -<p>And there was more. Against one wall was the plunder of Mitchell -Prell's laboratory on Mars—or most of it. The tanks were empty. -But on a table stood the larger microscope, as if what could be seen -through its eye-piece had been under examination. Perhaps the doll-like -shape, the other vats, the machine shop and that tiny electron -microscope were still there. And what lay at a still lower size level. -Across such a void of distance, Ed Dukas could not see such detail. But -he felt the mingling of hope and frustration. No path back to normal -circumstances was here, yet. And the time was certainly not ripe—if it -would ever come. Besides, did all of him really want to return, even if -part of him fairly ached for it?</p> - -<p>Carter Loman, or Ronald Payten, bent close to Les, his pronged helmet -and wide face, beyond the curve of plastic and radiation shielding, -like an ugly world in the sky. But if you had the mind to notice, -perhaps Loman's expression was almost gentle just then. His voice came -to Ed's senses as a subdued and modulated quake: "Lester! Wake up! I -didn't hit you that hard."</p> - -<p>Les seemed to have been lowered onto a couch of some kind. Perhaps -he had already regained consciousness moments ago and had since been -bent on quiet scrutiny of his surroundings, seeking out comprehension -and the core of his own feelings. Ed could guess at some of this: an -enigma revealed; Ronald Payten—creator of monsters; Les Payten's -pseudo-father. Then, for Les, horror, shame, fury.</p> - -<p>For Ed, the world seemed to rock as Les leaped. Les was not strong now -and was still in his convalescence. And maybe he had been wavering and -unsure, or even wrong in his past choices. But at this moment he was -not at all in doubt, though the attack he made could have been pure, -wild fright.</p> - -<p>"Father, indeed! I'll kill you—<i>Phony!</i>" he screamed. Then he was -grappling with Loman with all the strength that muscle and emotion -could muster.</p> - -<p>For that moment at least, he was Ed Dukas's ally, willing or otherwise. -For he held Loman's attention diverted. And because of Les's attack -Loman's neutronic aura remained turned off.</p> - -<p>Ed leaped and jetted, his tiny Midas Touch a scarcely visible spark as -it flamed. He landed on the fabric near the back of Loman's neck and at -the base of his helmet. Holding tight, Ed let his weapon flare again, -this time using it to blast a tiny hole. He braved the violent spurt -of energy from the dissolving rubberized fabric and then the moment of -exposure to radiation and heat as he crept through. Now he floated in -Loman's private atmosphere, within the great oxygen helmet, as Loman's -struggle with Les went on.</p> - -<p>Now was the time to test a plan: the speck-sized man against a being -of human dimensions—comparatively as huge as a mountain. And it was -android against android, advantage against advantage.</p> - -<p>Loman's lungs, active now to give breath to a chuckle of triumph, -breathed Ed in deeply. With his full equipment still lashed to his -shoulders, he tumbled down through moist and faintly ruddy gloom. When -the air currents quieted, he clung, a sharp splinter of obsidian rising -and falling in his hand, as he cut through soft tissue.</p> - -<p>Thus he reached a small artery and was borne along by the flow -within it. It was a world of warm, buried rivers. Dim, rosy light -sometimes found its way through the walls of flesh. Or was it, still -the radioactive glow that Loman's body, adapting to the shortage of -oxygen, had shown on Mars? But its physical structure, apart from its -substance, remained human: the disklike red blood corpuscles pumped -along in the gloom.</p> - -<p>Only wait now to be circulated to the right position. Ed knew when he -passed the great thumping valves and chambers of Loman's heart. But, -no, this was not the place for action. He could feel himself rising -now. Good! Was the darkness within the skull denser than elsewhere? -Ed forced his way into constantly narrowing channels. Around him he -still saw very dimly the living cells themselves. Here they had long, -interlocking filaments. They were the brain cells, beyond question.</p> - -<p>He dared not use his Midas Touch here. The fluid at its very muzzle -would have exploded. But he had grenades of much the same function. Set -the fuse of one and leave it lodged here.</p> - -<p>Before Ed was pumped back to the huge lungs, he felt the heavy -concussion. Then came the wild gyrations of the colossus. A spark of -atomic incandescence had exploded within its head, opening arteries to -hemorrhage and destroying surrounding tissue with heat and radiation. -A demoniac vitality of body might linger on, but a mind was dead. Had -total death come quickly, all movement ceasing, Ed might have had to -tunnel his way tediously from the gigantic corpse.</p> - -<p>But his luck held out. He reached the lungs, and a great burst of air -flung him forth into the oxygen helmet again.</p> - -<p>Loman's form still twitched on the floor. One enemy was erased from the -immediate future at least. Loman—or the pseudo Ronald Payten—had been -removed as an active force of history, but the fury he had helped stir -up was by now self-sustaining. Ed gave him a brief, almost rancorless -thought. A woman had lost her husband in the Moonblast. And he was -her memory re-created. She had had reason to hate science. And he had -been warped and marked by her view. He was a bitter product of his -times—impossible in the centuries that came before. Ed knew that he -himself—as he was now, certainly—was also the child of his era. His -uncle must always have been that. Babs—wherever she was now—was also -of these years. And his dad, and countless others. Maybe, therein you -had to find a tiny spark of tolerance for Loman, though not much. And -would anyone ever want to bring him back to life, even if the world -went on existing?</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="IX" id="IX">IX</a></h2> - - -<p>Ed's score stood at two points gained—Loman out of the way and the -source of the monsters revealed. But these were small victories -compared with what must be gained if there was to be any hope. Masses -of human beings and androids faced each other, their emotions inflamed -to the point of final folly. And the end of one troublemaker and the -revelation of his tools were small items beside all that.</p> - -<p>Ed got out of Loman's oxygen helmet the way he had entered. Les Payten, -a dazed Atlas, was stumbling around. Ed felt cut off from his old -friend by a strange, great distance. But he could talk to him at least.</p> - -<p>Ed floated to the radio in a corner of the workshop, found his way -through a vent in its back, and touched a wire with the minute contact -points of a crude microphone as large as his hand. The infinitesimal -electric currents it bore were amplified and converted into sound. Ed's -voice came forth loud and clear: "Les! It's me—Ed Dukas. I'm here, -just as Prell came to me once. I'm an android just a few thousandths of -an inch tall. I'm inside the radio, Les. First, I want to know how you -feel about all this. Yes, I killed Loman."</p> - -<p>There were world tremors of footsteps approaching with slow caution. -A panel of the set was opened. The giant stared inside. Ed was now -sufficiently accustomed to the vibrations of human speech to interpret -the mood behind them.</p> - -<p>There was a brief, hard chuckle, controlled and distant and unfriendly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Dukas, I'm quite sure it's as you say. It's odd, maybe, but I'm -not surprised at all. In our time, you have to accept too much. Thanks -for finishing Loman—not my father. Dad died on the lunar blowup, as -you know, a victim of technology or history, as we all will probably -soon be. I've told you before how I feel about everything. And what -has happened to me tonight can scarcely have made my view of the -androids any kinder. Once upon a time, in my callow youth, I thought -I belonged to this crazy period. How wrong can you get? You take your -strength and durability. I wonder what finer flavors of life you've -lost. So there's my standard, and I'll live and die by it, Dukas. It's -sad to lose a pal, but as you are, I guess you'll have to be an enemy. -It's like an instinct, Dukas."</p> - -<p>Les had spoken calmly and firmly. But Ed sensed the bitterness and -uncertainty that lurked beneath the words.</p> - -<p>"I won't argue, Les," he answered. "But when I'm thinking straight, the -truth to me is still as it was. In championing man above android, or -vice versa, you can only come to zero. Only in fair play between them -is there a chance. So, if the urge ever comes over you, you might still -do me a favor. Across this room is a microscope and attached equipment -that are vital to me and to Barbara, who is like me, somewhere. Guard -it, Les. No place that you could reach is perhaps truly safe for it. -But I was thinking that if you could gamble again—as we all must—you -might take it to Abel Freeman. I know that you were almost killed in -his camp, Les. But I believe that the old reprobate is fundamentally -sound and not as bitterly against such a device as some human beings -might be. Thanks if you consider it, Les."</p> - -<p>Still unseen by his one-time friend, Ed jetted to the vaulted ceiling -and escaped through a ventilator pipe that emerged among concealing -bushes. He rose above the trees, and a night wind pushed him on, while -he listened to the quartz chip he carried. His first impulse now was to -locate Tom Granger as his next candidate for silence.</p> - -<p>It was not necessary. The news was on the air: "Granger was stricken in -his quarters just before eight o'clock. The cause is not yet clear. He -had just begun to write his new speech: 'I am frightened. We are all -frightened. But this can change nothing of our purpose. In vitaplasm -we are confronted by a vampirish fact: an identity of face masking a -difference of spirit. A treachery. A slow, dreadful encroachment....'"</p> - -<p>Prell had gotten to Granger, then. If this was murder, maybe it was -justified—if Earth was one per cent less in danger with one exhorter -quieted, for a while if not forever. But what had been accomplished so -far was small beside the threat that had been stirred up in many minds -and machines across the countryside.</p> - -<p>The sky was heavy with thickening clouds. Weather Control, working -through its ionic towers had already been smashed. The night was -alternately a Stygian hole or a glare-lit holocaust full of battering -vibrations which might mean that real battle had already begun. So -far, only neutron streams were being used. Where a mountain peak was -hit there would be a blaze of light that even an android had better -not look at. Then another mountain, looming over a different fortified -line, would flare up and glow with moving lava. And the power that -energized the weapons was the same as that which could reach the stars.</p> - -<p>Rising high and jetting forward with his Midas Touch, Ed went to work. -He thought of Abel Freeman's camp, which lay somewhere beyond the -carpet of flaming woods which flanked one slope. But that was not his -immediate destination now. He had dived for a power station house in a -great trailer—and did it matter whether it belonged to the older race -or the newer? He took great risks getting into its busy vitals. The -constricting pressure of space warps, creating a gravity pressure of -billions of tons to the square inch, eased gradually. A marble-sized -bit of super-dense matter, crushed and compressed by the force and -hidden by its opaqueness, began to expand to meter-wide size and to -lose its blinding heat and fury as the processes within it stopped. -Soon the power plant, turning out a flood of electricity out of all -proportion to its small size, ceased to function. Scattered atoms of -hydrogen and lithium became inert.</p> - -<p>There was no easily visible cause for the breakdown, until puzzled -eyes found minute holes burned in vacuum tubes, allowing air to enter, -oxidizing grids and filaments and stopping their action.</p> - -<p>Two great weapons died, their energy cut off. But the power stations -themselves were the far greater threat, for they harbored that -sun-stuff within them. Now the controls of one, which some enraged -person might contrive to push too far in spite of the watchfulness of -others, were temporarily useless.</p> - -<p>Working both sides of the line, Ed sabotaged another energy source, and -another. Then he lost count, not because of a high score, but because -heat and radiation had fogged his mind somewhat. Yet he kept at his -labors because there was no other way. Within every square mile there -was enough potential power to end his planet.</p> - -<p>Around him, curses came vibrating from giants: "Men, eh? Jelly for -insides!..." "Stinking Phonies—Hell-born or Prell-born!... Jim, I -was wondering, this fizz-out looks fishy. Do you suppose the bastards -<i>have</i> something?"</p> - -<p>The front had quieted. It could be that, as far as he had gone, Ed -had actually held the Earth together by spiking a few danger points. -But he could take no pride for himself out of this. The job could go -on and on, like a few buckets of water poured on a forest fire. It -helped briefly, yet if there had been a thousand like him, but truly -indestructible, the situation might still be without promise. The mass -of the populace was too enormous and scattered; the natural suspicion -and the forces which had stirred it up were too deep. The ghosts of -Loman and Granger still walked in memory and maybe now in martyrdom. -And the technology was still there. So Ed knew that, unless there was -another way, he could only go on attempting to lessen a threat, until -heat and radiation or its fulfillment zeroed him out.</p> - -<p>It took him over an hour to stop one power station because his demoniac -vitality was ebbing and because it had begun to rain heavily. The great -drops could not kill him, but like falling lakes, they could hammer -him into the mud, from which it might take days for him to extricate -himself. He waited in the shelter of a loose bit of bark on the trunk -of a tree. There he felt the helpless side of his smallness.</p> - -<p>As he waited, his mind rambled. Had several groups of weapons quit -without his noticing, or was this only something that he wished were -so? Where was Barbara now? Would he ever see her again?... Now he lost -himself in a fantasy. He saw them leaving Earth's atmosphere the way -they had come—she and he together; maybe finding beauty and peace -out there. Perhaps there were even tiny worlds—meteors—inhabited by -crystalline things such as they had once seen but advanced to a state -where they could think and build, and be friendly.</p> - -<p>And, almost wistfully, he thought of another idyl—his father's, and -even Granger's, among millions of others. He could almost see the crude -charm of the houses, the gardens and the flocks. But how did one erect -a wall against science—with science? It seemed harder to do than -diking the water out of the deepest ocean and trying to live in the -hole thus made.</p> - -<p>The rain ended. Ed was air-borne again. He caused one more power -station to break down. But there were others. And some that he had -spiked might already be repaired. And from his quartz chip he heard -other exhorting voices—not Granger's, but like Granger's. The old and -human traits that Granger had represented could go on without him, -fighting maturer thoughts as if in a drive toward suicide. Who could be -everywhere, to quiet such clamoring?</p> - -<p>In the darkness before dawn, Ed felt desperate and hopeless. His mind -was on Abel Freeman again—the memory man, somebody's cockeyed family -legend. It was an instinctive thing to seek out the strong for advice, -for discussion and perhaps for a joining of forces.</p> - -<p>Ed had only part of an energy cartridge left for his Midas Touch. But -this was more than enough to jet him across the mountains to the camp -of the quaint android chieftain with whom he must now admit a kinship -of flesh. Freeman was certainly a local leader now among those of -the same mark who had fled from the City, where the population was -predominantly of the old kind. Technicians, craftsmen, specialists of -every sort, would be among Freeman's following.</p> - -<p>Just as first daylight began, Ed drifted over the vast, hodge-podge -encampment hidden in the woods and the marshes. Part of the ground it -covered had been fused to hot, glassy consistency, perhaps by a small -aerial bomb. Maybe a hundred Phonies had died there—which fact added -nothing to the cause of peace.</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman himself was not too hard to find, for he occupied a -central, commanding position among various equipment housed in great -trailers carefully concealed from any observer in an aircraft. But -Abel Freeman, true to his legend, was sitting inside a rude shelter of -boughs, which effectively concealed the light of his ato lamp. Before -him was a sensipsych training device and a vast pile of books on many -subjects, ranging from military tactics to atomics, on which he was -obviously endeavoring to get caught up. He was savagely intent upon -book learning, for which he had little aptitude. But Ed, seeing him -in mountainous proportions, was perhaps better able than others to -understand why androids in need of leadership flocked to his stamping -grounds. Abel Freeman looked like the essence of rough and ready -ability. Among android leaders, he was certainly the greatest.</p> - -<p>Freeman had a small radio receiver beside him. Ed Dukas did not try to -read the meaning of its blaring vibrations, for he was aware of their -general tone. To him the instrument was chiefly a possible bridge of -communication between himself and Freeman.</p> - -<p>But Ed was not now given the chance to make such contact. For something -else happened. From the pages of an opened book in Abel Freeman's hands -coiled a thread of smoke, as charred words were written rapidly across -the paper. Ed was close enough in the air to read them, too: "<i>I am -Mitchell Prell, who helped make your kind possible. I am one of you -now—though undersize. Help keep the peace. Make no moves to start -trouble.</i>"</p> - -<p>Ed himself was startled. His uncle was here, then! They had arrived at -almost the same time. And Prell had chosen a more dramatic means of -communication—not ink, not an amplified voice, but the spiderweb-thin -beam of his Midas Touch used as a long stylus, while he clung, perhaps, -to a hair on the back of Freeman's hand!</p> - -<p>For an instant, Abel Freeman was gripped by surprise. But then, with -rattlesnake-swift movement, his own Midas Touch was in his hand. His -whole self seemed to take on the smooth flow of perfect alertness which -nothing but an utterly refined machine could have equaled.</p> - -<p>"Prell or a liar?" he challenged. "Or Prell with a conscience—for his -own first people and against his brain children? Yes, I've heard how -little you might be now."</p> - -<p>Ed had only glimpsed his uncle far off among the scattered motes of the -air—another mote among them—a foot away he must be, at least. But Ed -hadn't waited for contact. Instead he darted quickly inside Freeman's -radio, touched the contacts of his microphone to the proper surface, -and spoke: "Maybe you'll remember me, too, Freeman. I'm Dukas, Prell's -nephew. You and I have talked before, man to man. Prell is no liar. And -the conscience is there—for everybody, android or otherwise. Yes, I'm -with him, the same size. And there's a problem, everybody's problem, -the toughest one that I've ever heard of. So where do we get any answer -that makes sense? Some of it has got to come quickly, I'm afraid, -Freeman."</p> - -<p>Amplified, Ed's voice had boomed out till it was like an earthquake -to him. Once again a plastic box was opened above him and a gigantic -face was overhead. In the tinkling overtones of smallness, there was -almost a silence for a moment. Then came the rattle of Freeman's hard, -amused laugh, as he said, "I'll be damned! Smaller than snuff and made -the cheap way. People. Something better. Yep, it must be so, even if -I can't even see you. That puts us way ahead, I guess. And it ain't a -whisky vision. Well, I guess it still don't make any difference. The -old-time kind of folks hate us, and they'll never stop while both of us -and them are alive. And us Phonies have been crowded all we can take. -They've fired on us here, just barely trying to miss. Could be we've -done the same to them. It's a mighty ticklish proposition. In winktime -they could finish us all here, nice and clean and no grease left. So -could we burn them quicker than gunpowder. So who gets trigger crazy -and does it first? We've fixed them: an answer, under the ground. Maybe -they can spoil our other weapons, like it seems they can, but not this -one. It's buried deep enough. Let 'em try to hit us hard, and it'll -set everything off. Your old Moonblast will be beat a thousand times. -Us Phonies are bullheaded. We were made on Earth, same as them. It's -ours as much as theirs. We came alive, and we can fade out again, young -fella!"</p> - -<p>The vibrations of Freeman's tones rose and fell, with humor, fatalism -and stubbornness. Two races, one born of the knowledge originated by -the other, seemed to have driven each other into corners of no return. -At some indefinite instant, the Big Zero would come.</p> - -<p>Ed saw this garish picture more clearly than ever before. His strange -little body fairly quivered with it. He looked at Mitchell Prell, who -had come beside him now, where the pieces of apparatus that made up the -interior of a small receiving set loomed, and he saw in his face the -puzzled, tired fear of a scientist whose researches had always aimed at -doing good. Just then Ed Dukas, micro-android, was far from separated -from the Big Earth as he used to know it. So now, in desperation, he -clutched at a vision which had once seemed almost a fact.</p> - -<p>"Freeman," he said, "maybe men can't back down or co-operate with -supermen. Doing that can seem like embracing extinction. But hasn't -there always been an obvious thing for <i>us</i> to do?"</p> - -<p>"Umhm-m—you mean <i>we</i> should back down," Freeman replied softly. -"Set out for the wide-open spaces that we were meant for. Leave the -poor clodhoppers behind. Young fella, could be that you and me see -things bigger. For others like us, it ought to be like that, only it -ain't—yet. Most of the new people are butcher, baker and candlestick -maker, Earth-born, and Earth-tied in their minds, like anybody. There's -a ship, sure. But the stars are still awful far off, and never touched, -and you can go addled just thinkin' about them. Lots of our sort would -leave in their own sweet time, same as regular folks, sure. It's in -their blood. You might say they got wings. But who really knows how to -use 'em yet? And crowd our kinfolks off their home world? When they're -spunky and sore like any human being? Nope. Sorry!"</p> - -<p>Ed's faint hope faded before the old android's realism. For years the -movement of migration had been farther and farther outward into space. -It was at once a fact, a dream and a philosophy, like getting nearer -to the Eternal Unknown. But most of the worth-while solar system was -already owned by the original dominant species. Beyond was only the -distance, not a beaten path at all, an untried and fearsome novelty. -One star ship was about completed, yes. Fast it would be, but its speed -would still fall far short of the velocity of light. So the nearer -stars were decades, centuries, millenniums away.</p> - -<p>An idea so familiar that it seems almost an accomplished fact can -lose some of its charm in the hard glare of real obstacles. Ed felt -something like a chill inside him. Though he knew the strangeness of a -micro-cosmic viewpoint, others did not have this training and boldness -for the unknown. He saw the majority of them balking fatally. But he -still had to try <i>something</i>, to change as much of this as he could—if -he could change any of it at all.</p> - -<p>"I don't know whether or not to blame you and the others for the -revenge you say is rigged here and elsewhere, Freeman," he said. "I can -see why both sides felt driven to do it. But I'm going to borrow your -newscast facilities, Freeman. Or someone else's. Because rumor can be a -powerful force. And I think I can give it a little push."</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell was still beside him. His grin was encouraging and sly. -"Best of luck in what you intend, Eddie," he remarked. "Need a charge -for your Midas Touch?... Meanwhile, I might try drawing the teeth -of some dragons, as you seem to have been doing. Got to be careful, -though, that both sides don't blame each other and get nervous. -Granger, poor knothead, was easy. I hope that somehow circumstances -will be right so that he can come back and learn. About Loman and the -things he made, I can feel differently."</p> - -<p>"You heard?" Ed asked.</p> - -<p>"It was on the air," Prell replied. "Somebody phoned the news in from -near that lab. At least the overwise ones will know that they guessed -wrong about which faction contrived a biological horror: a rabid -old-race sympathizer, but an android, too! Can that make either side -proud?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A minute later Ed landed on the roof of the trailer which housed -Freeman's wireless equipment. He crept past an immense drop of rain -water that loomed like a rounded mesa beside him and entered a vent. -Soon he touched the terminals of his microphone to the proper contacts. -The transmitter was active. During the first pause between the temblors -of other words and signals and coded information, Ed spoke quickly, -half like a mischievous sprite. "This is no ghost voice. We hear that -many androids want to take all of their kind beyond the solar system."</p> - -<p>The station did not stop sending at once. Blame that on the startled -monitor, who must have been listening. Ed took advantage of his -opportunity. He was granted another moment to speak: "It is only -natural that they should want to do that. Their kind of vigor matches -the stars. They don't need, or really want, the Earth. Their departure -in peace could be a perfect answer to everything."</p> - -<p>That much Ed got out before the transmitter clicked to silence. He knew -he hadn't said anything original and that he had pushed an argument -intensely, like a high-pressure salesman without full belief. What he -had said was the way things should be, perhaps, but were not. Yet, -again, like a romantic kid, had he felt the glamorous impact of his own -words?</p> - -<p>He was aware that androids would hear and millions of the old -race—intent on communications from an enemy station—as well. A -mysterious, informal voice was always a thing to draw attention, and -his remarks had been rather startling. That they would be repeated and -discussed a thousand times from other stations was probable. For they -were like a chink of hope in one of two granite walls of obstinate -righteousness and strength.</p> - -<p>But Ed decided that he'd build no bright pictures of what his speech -would accomplish but would wait for hard facts. He wished desperately -that he'd had a moment more to speak on the transmitter, to call out -Barbara's name.</p> - -<p>Now he drifted again in a morning sunshine. Luck had held out this -far at least. But over woods and crude shelters and hidden equipment -and grimy grim-faced hordes that looked as human as refugees could, -there were interruptions that denied optimism. A patrolling rocket -ship sailed high; an intensified neutron beam turned a finger of air -white hot behind it—very close. And mountaintops, already truncated -and smoking, still would flare up dazzlingly. Android muscles and backs -strained and bent to build fortifications as nothing merely human -could. The toilers were both men and women. Could android children cry? -Yes, some did.</p> - -<p>Another thing happened. Ed, floating unseen low in the air, felt the -buzz of shouts and cries. A man who seemed to be near collapse was -being helped forward by a youth whose sidearms dangled near the knees -of his torn dungarees. At a little distance, where size seemed more -as it used to be, Ed saw that the exhausted man was Les Payten. He was -mud from head to foot; his face and arms were bloodied by brambles, his -suit was a rag.</p> - -<p>He was brought straight to Abel Freeman's shelter. There, supported by -the armed youth, he spoke his piece: "I'm here again, Freeman, because -a friend of mine asked me to bring you something for him. Does that -make me a fool? I know it does. Because he's only my remembrance of a -friend now. Damn you all!"</p> - -<p>Les Payten fainted. A package wrapped in a plastic sheath fell from -his hands, but Abel Freeman caught it. A couple of Abel's ornery sons -looked on, exchanging puzzled scowls. Freeman warned them away with a -clenched fist, knotty as an oaken club, and then shouted, "Nancy! Oh, -Nancy-y-y!" But there was no time for Ed to observe Freeman's hellion -daughter functioning as a nurse. He went inside Freeman's radio again, -and spoke, "Freeman, this is Dukas. I came to you to give and receive -help. That means that I've tried to guess right about you. I believe I -have. When your neo-biologists examine what Payten has brought, they -will be able to guess its value to me and mine. And I think that they -will be able to combine its uses with those of their own equipment for -something I'd like to see done. But there are other matters. Some of -your power plants broke down, but so did others across the line. I did -most of that. Prell must be doing more of it right now. What I said -over your wireless was meant to gain a little time."</p> - -<p>Ed paused. Freeman did not open the radio case again. Ed couldn't see -him. He could only feel small thuds and clinkings—the android leader -opening the package that Les Payten had brought. Ed wondered if he -could ever imagine what was going on in Freeman's head, the thousand -problems and feelings that must be seething there.</p> - -<p>Freeman might be no good at book learning. And his roots were in a -century when even a flying machine was a wild thought. But he had to -be shrewd to match the legend behind him. And he had to take tough -situations with a light shrug for the same reason.</p> - -<p>Finally Ed felt the rumble of his chuckle. "You mean I'm one of your -'reasonable' variety," he said. "Meantime you smash my stuff, eh, -little bug in the air! I ought to get damn unreasonable! You might even -finish me off! I'm kind of curious about that! But I don't think you -have to bother. I know that the old-time folks are moving lots more -hell machines up. And they're awful mad, because we got quite a few of -them in one place last night—sort of by miscalculation. What's this -talk about us androids matching the stars? Well, young fella, go 'head -and talk some more. Yep, on our wireless rig. What's left to lose? And -I'm still curious."</p> - -<p>On the way to the radio trailer, Ed looked back to the ugly, humping -shapes of weapons creeping up a high, blackened slope a few miles away. -This was fresh action by men of the old kind who had lost friends -or family and who saw no future in a demoniac succession. They were -exposed, an easy target. But if they were destroyed, others would -come. So they dared and defied, and the vicious spiral toward Big Zero -continued to mount.</p> - -<p>Ed tried to forget this for a moment. His first words by wireless were -a call for his wife: "Babs, this is Ed, at Freeman's camp! Barbara, -come to us if you can. At least, try to communicate with us. You know -how. Barbara!..."</p> - -<p>She had her own quartz chip, active all the time, so she must hear! And -if she did, she could send a message just as he did, from some other -station. But though Ed now had help, at Freeman's orders, no reply -from his wife was sifted from the countless communications that were -received.</p> - -<p>But his previous attempt to spread a rumor had brought some expected -results. The morning air was full of conflicting comments: "... A cruel -joke ... Psychological warfare ... Perhaps, but what if the Phonies -mean to leave? Some already deny it.... Who spoke? Let him speak -again."</p> - -<p>Ed was glad to oblige, even revealing his name, his present dimensions -and how a being of such size, equipped with a Midas Touch, might wreck -a power station. He explained this last item because he did not want a -misplaced blame to stir up more tension on both sides. Otherwise, he -addressed himself mostly to the androids, aware that the old race would -listen, too.</p> - -<p>"... We were made on Earth, but not <i>for</i> Earth. We were meant to go -much farther. Since we have so much, to be other than generous would be -stupid. We have peace and the future, and most of what man ever hoped -for, in our hands. That, or oblivion for everyone."</p> - -<p>Though the ominous movement on the burned-out slope continued, the -actual flash of weapons seemed suspended. The quiet was either -promising or it was ominous.</p> - -<p>He was lulled into enough confidence so that at noon he took a break. -He went back to Freeman's shelter and into the tiniest workshop that -Mitchell Prell had made and that Les Payten had rescued. He dropped -from the air beside minute machines and the vats that had given Barbara -and him their micro-android forms on Mars.</p> - -<p>The whole piece—the greater microscope together with all the much -lesser equipment—Abel Freeman had unwrapped hastily, so that entry -into the twilight within the plastic cover had been easy. Freeman -himself was not around.</p> - -<p>For a moment Ed felt alone and wistful, clinging to the rough glass -floor of the shop. But then he saw a faintly luminous elfin figure.</p> - -<p>"Barbara!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>Her laughter tinkled. "Think I wasn't come back, Eddie?" she teased. -"That I couldn't share any interest in what happens to a big world?" -Her blitheness almost angered him. Her expression sobered at once, and -he saw that she looked worn. "I know," she said. "It's not funny. We -might have burned up with the Earth—far apart. But I kept busy. I -tried to call you yesterday from a station in the City. But I wasn't -sure I touched the proper contacts. And last night I had to be a good -saboteur. I got three weapon-feeding power houses—though I guess that -the fine equipment could be shielded against us easily enough. Later, -I was lost—high up in the wind. With you along, it could have been -wonderful. Of course, I heard news broadcasts. About Loman's lab. And -from Freeman's station, a report of how Les arrived with a strange -device. This morning I heard your call, but there was no way to answer. -Eddie, Freeman's experts could copy us in normal size quite easily and -quickly, couldn't they? And in better vitaplasm. The methods have been -improved. Our personal recordings, perhaps lost, wouldn't be needed. -Should we try to have it done? Then there'd be two of each of us, in -different sizes. Two...."</p> - -<p>Ed chuckled. "Not a word about returning to the old flesh, eh?" he -said. "So have we learned? Android freedom to go anywhere, to be almost -anything. Yep, magic almost. I think you'd rather perch on thistledown -or a sunset cloud, or be pushed by light pressure, like sleeping -spores, to a thousand light-years away! Well, it <i>could</i> still happen. -Part of us has been changed enough by things like that to belong there. -But the older part seems much like it was and belongs to the size plane -that we first knew about."</p> - -<p>They hugged each other and laughed. And they were reassured by the -comparative calm around them. But the forces were still there, only -awaiting someone's ultimate madness. And what can a world's end be -like, coming in a split instant, to one's dissolving senses? Certainly -it must be a quick, almost trivial experience.</p> - -<p>Ed became aware of a bluish flicker. Then there was something like an -awful thud; he could scarcely tell whether a crash of sound took part -in it or not. Around him everything was dazzling whiteness, without -shadow or form. Then there was nothing.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="X" id="X">X</a></h2> - - -<p>Consciousness came back to him, bringing a cloudy surprise. Rough rocky -walls were around him. This was an artificial cavern crowded with -neo-biological equipment, most of which he could recognize. He lay -firmly on a hard couch contrived of planks and a folded blanket, part -of the latter covering him. A pair of dungarees and a mended shirt had -been tossed casually across his bare torso.</p> - -<p>Someone who looked like a young medico laughed near him.</p> - -<p>"One week's time, Dukas—that's all we need now for a major -transformation," he said. "You must have thought that we were all -goners; it would have seemed like that to you. But it was just a freak -attempt at sniping from the hills, with a Midas Touch focused to a thin -beam. Whoever tried it must have been aiming at our chief's shelter. -Only he wasn't there! Still down in miniature, you were caught in the -backlash of the blast. But it only knocked you out and singed you a -little. You kept holding onto some solid object. Your wife and the -equipment were scarcely hurt at all. Then Prell showed up again. They -talked with our chief the way you did before. They engineered the -transformation. I thought you'd want to know all this quickly."</p> - -<p>The youthful android looked good-humoredly awed. "They just stepped -out," he added. "They'll be back in a minute."</p> - -<p>Ed began to slide into his dungarees. He was grateful for his return -to something like what he had been. His memories of an interlude when -people were mountain tall were clear, yet they didn't seem quite to -belong to himself.</p> - -<p>He thought briefly of how he must have been brought back to normal -size—his micro-form in one of the vats of similar proportions acting -as a pattern, electronic brain and all. In another vat, which Freeman's -specialists had connected, the gelatins must have filmed and solidified -slowly, taking shape, while in brain cells and filaments—different -from electronic swirls but capable of assuming the same connecting -arrangements—a personality was reproduced without destroying the -pattern. With Barbara and Prell it had been the same.</p> - -<p>"The world goes on, I see," Ed remarked.</p> - -<p>The android biologist smiled wryly. "Some of that is your fault, -Dukas," he said. "A matter of advertising. You made enough old-timers -half believe that the Earth will go on being theirs. That cooled them -off some. As for our kind, what you said started lots of them thinking -again along what ought to be a natural track. Certainly the prompt -departure of almost all of us is the only answer that can <i>really</i> -solve anything. Yes, if that isn't far too large an order! Though I -rather wish it <i>were</i> possible.... Here come Prell and your lady. I'll -disappear."</p> - -<p>They looked almost as they used to look—before anything about them -was changed. Blame the loss of some trifling birthmark or scar here -and there on the simplification of details that had occurred during a -step down to smallness. Yet Mitchell Prell's china-blue eyes were as -good-humored as ever and Barbara's smile as bright and warm.</p> - -<p>"So here we are, Eddie," she said gaily. "And what we recently were -are still around somewhere—alive and aware, and the same as we were, -though not quite us any more. Separate, but still helping, I'm sure. -And if we all get through all right, well, their universe is as -wonderful and even vaster than ours."</p> - -<p>Prell scowled for a moment, as if he envied his lesser likeness the -continued chance to study the structure of matter, down where molecules -themselves seemed bigger and nearer. But then his shoulders jerked -almost angrily, as if to shake off the scientist's woolgathering. "Come -on, Ed," he snapped. "Abel Freeman has been pushing the idea you -expressed, talking it around the world to all the androids. He says -that, crazy though it is, he'll encourage it."</p> - -<p>They emerged from the cavern into the afternoon sunshine of the camp. -A sudden quiet had come over it. Eyes were staring up toward the east, -while bodies tensed for a dive for whatever shelter was at hand. -Something moved there with seeming slowness, though its gray hue, like -a distant mountain peak, told that it was seen through all the murky -heights of the atmosphere and was in free space beyond. Its motors -were inactive. High sunshine brought metallic glints from its prow. -It was certainly miles in length. Its presence could mean doomsday. -But it <i>was</i> magnificent! If it could set human blood to coursing more -swiftly, how must it affect an android?</p> - -<p>"The star ship!" someone shouted. Others took up the cry: "The star -ship.... The star ship...."</p> - -<p>Now Abel Freeman's voice boomed from a sound system: "Yep, you're -right. I sent a call for it to come in from the asteroids. Figured it -would be good for all our tough-gutted breed to look at! Uh-huh, tough -gutted, I said, but might be I'll have to take that back. Anyhow, a man -made for a mule loves a mule on sight. So how about men and a ship made -for the stars? But might be you ain't that kind of folks—you only seem -that way. Might be you can only see the mud on the ground and not the -sky. I dunno. Moving all of us fast would take an awful lot of insides. -But ain't she a beauty? I figure that the folks that brought her here -didn't like to disobey orders, but they figured that letting us see -was necessary. Maybe they're Phonies, too. I figure that Harwell, who -bossed her construction, would be that now. Her kind of purpose demands -it. But maybe you ain't up to what she's for. And you folks of the old -kind, what do you say? What if we did leave you alone on Earth? What if -you gave us this first star ship and let us build more, out on a moon -of Saturn where you don't go much? Let's hear some answers!"</p> - -<p>Obviously, Abel Freeman's words were also being broadcast. Meanwhile -the star ship glided into the sunset. Someone spoke briefly from her by -radio. Harwell?</p> - -<p>"I hope you convince everybody, Freeman. I believe it does make sense. -Not a cinch, though, even for us."</p> - -<p>That, too, came out of the address system, as the ship headed back -toward its base.</p> - -<p>In his newer self, here on Earth, Ed breathed again, and his breathing -was rapid. Once more the unseen future was a thrill. Yet he must not -let glamour gild harsh uncertainties too much.</p> - -<p>He looked at the faces around him. Some were stern, some grinned in -bravado under Abel Freeman's challenging sarcasm, but in most of -them there was a special, eager light, almost avid. It looked as if -Freeman's talk and the great craft that had come with it were turning -the trick. But these were trivial dramatics, too. The real source of -success—if it was that—was in a basic kinship of android vigor with -the stars. Awakened, it could relinquish the Earth without regret. -These people could feel a little like lesser gods now. Their strength -and endurance matched the next step of progress. Now the fantastic gulf -of distance didn't seem as wide as Freeman had once thought.</p> - -<p>From scattered android camps, messages came in, pointing generally -toward deeper space. Yes, doubts were expressed.</p> - -<p>"Shall we leave our homes without even an argument? Are we complete -fools?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, fools if we don't leave. We <i>can</i> make a mass departure. And -remember that this is the <i>only</i> solution. Are they still too primitive -for us to live with? The same fault might be ours. I wonder what they -will say to our proposition?"</p> - -<p>Communications also flashed back and forth among the old race:</p> - -<p>"... They look like us but aren't. Their disguise and their powers -hold a warning. No wonder so many of us think of them as something -like medieval demons. Can we trust what they say? Or is it a trick to -disarm us? How can we know? Yet they intrigue us. Man has always sought -to borrow strength and permanence from the rocks and hills. Are they -that achievement? And we ourselves have wanted the stars."</p> - -<p>Crouched over the small receiver in Freeman's restored shelter during -that still-ominous afternoon, Ed and Barbara listened and waited. -Around them they found both humor and pathos. In another shelter, dug -into the rocks and soil, they located Les Payten, whose misfortunes -with the Phonies had been many. His bitter frankness had won him -dislike here. He had been put under restraint. There was the bearish -tenderness and nursing of the gorgeous and powerful Nancy, Freeman's -daughter, who stood beside him now, her big blue eyes expressing a -mixture of soulful devotion and hunger about as rapacious as that of -a starved hound-dog six inches from a fat rabbit. Les didn't seem -to appreciate it at all. But he still tried to be a friend to his -companions of a lost youth. "Babs! Ed!" he exclaimed at sight of them. -"So you got back—to size, anyhow! But you could go back to where you -began, as natural creatures! Damn, once we were young idiots, dazzled -by a sense of wonder into too much tolerance. I don't want to be -something synthetic! Can't you two realize the fundamental truth of -that—for yourselves? Good Glory! Wake up!"</p> - -<p>Ed's grin was one-sided. "For one thing, I suspect that going back all -the way wouldn't quite work, Les," he said mildly. "We are what we are -now, that's all. There's a cloudy sort of limit on switching bodies. -There can never truly be two of anyone. Besides, we like being what we -are. And should I remind you that, in common with all animals, man is -a natural machine? As for being synthetic, I assure you that both love -and poetry are there as well. So what do you imagine that we lack that -the old timers always had? A taste for turkey or cake? Just lead us to -it! We're human, Les—our forms and ideals and feelings are as they -always were. We're not devils. We're not truly separated from the old -race in any part of sympathy. We're just people gone on—I hope!—a -little further."</p> - -<p>Ed spoke gently, as he must to a tired, confused friend. Or was it to -a whole, vast section of humanity, dumfounded by hurtling technology, -proud and stubborn about what had seemed its eternal self, and dreading -any change which could seem so darkly drastic?</p> - -<p>Barbara tried, too. "Why don't <i>you</i> join <i>us</i>, Les?" she urged. "If -you became like us, you would know! Besides, even if all the androids -leave the Earth, the knowledge of how to mold vitaplasm won't be taken -away with us. People here will continue to be destroyed in accidents, -as has always happened. So that knowledge will be needed and used. -Besides, some persons will change willingly. Some people may want to -shut themselves away from such realities. But I don't think that they -can. They'll have to learn to accept facts."</p> - -<p>Les Payten looked at his old companions oddly, as if tempted by an old -soaring of the fancy. Then the light died in his eyes. "Nice logic," -he said coldly. "I could almost trust it if I didn't remind myself. A -mechanical treachery. My Ed Dukas and Barbara Day are dead."</p> - -<p>His tone was calm, yet there was a quiver in it—perhaps of revulsion -for these imponderable likenesses before him, whose hearts he thought -he could not—or did not—want to see.</p> - -<p>Ed was exasperated before a stubbornness of thought habit which was -partly fear, though Les Payten was no coward. Some human minds were -quick to adjust, taking even the radical newness of the last half -century in their stride. But there had always been many others who were -slow. Perhaps it was a childish taint, a resisting of maturity. And how -could they keep pace now? But right there, Ed had to remind himself not -to be too sure of himself. The next day or minute might trip him up.</p> - -<p>There seemed no further way to argue with Les. Ed could only express -his sincere thanks for a favor, offer good wishes, and shrug lightly -and in some mockery, for one who refused what seemed a simple truth. If -that shrug was superficially unkind, perhaps it was also a goad in the -right direction. A favor to a pal.</p> - -<p>An hour later, when Ed told Freeman of Les Payten's reactions, the -colorful android leader had a similar comment: "There's maybe billions -like that—one reason why we got to leave. They'll change. But right -now, who cares to take the ornery kid brothers fishing? Give 'em time -to grow up a little more, first. It won't be so long. Just now we got -our own problems and jobs. They ain't small, and nothing's certain. -There's no hole to jump into that's as deep as deep space! I thought -once that it couldn't happen. But now it looks as if we're gonna get -the chance to try!"</p> - -<p>Abel Freeman was right. That evening a message came from the World -Capital: "Let us meet and confer with android representatives and -earnestly apply ourselves to a binding solution."</p> - -<p>That was the beginning. It seemed that reason had won out after all. -Freeman and Prell were flown to the Capital. Ed did not go, for he -foresaw a bleak conference with the single purpose of getting an -arrangement made as soon as possible. This proved to be true. To the -androids went the first star ship, its asteroid base, provisions to be -delivered regularly over a ten-year period, supplies and equipment of -all kinds, and the use of Titan, largest of distant Saturn's moons.</p> - -<p>To the vast majority of the androids this was enough. To the few -grumblers there would be scant choice. Let them view themselves as -exiles, borne along by the eager mass of their kind.</p> - -<p>When Freeman and Prell returned to camp after the signing of the -treaty, Les Payten had already left for the City. For a while Nancy -Freeman would look wistful. She was strong and beautiful, and perhaps -not as wild as her personal legend. Briefly, Mitchell Prell's eyes -rested on her. Then he chuckled.</p> - -<p>"Sirius," he said. "Nine light-years away. Not the nearest star, and -not perfect. But the best bet of the nearest. Alpha Centauri is a -binary, too. Bad for stable planetary orbits. But in the Sirian System, -at least we know now that there <i>are</i> many planets. Come on, Freeman. -There are more plans to straighten out."</p> - -<p>Preparations began, and the weeks passed. Once Ed even went shopping -with his wife—for the pretty things, symbols of the luxury and -sophistication of Earth, that she wanted to take with her into the -unknown. Was that the crassest kind of optimism before the harshness -that could be imagined?</p> - -<p>Ed, Barbara and Prell would be among the many thousands to be packed -into the first star ship for the first long jump. They had earned the -privilege of choice. Abel Freeman had elected to stay behind, to help -direct operations on Titan.</p> - -<p>Interplanetary craft were moving out in a steady stream, transporting -migrants and the prefabricated parts needed to set up a vast glassed-in -camp that few of the old blood could ever have tried to build. The -androids might even have endured the cold poison of Titan's methane -atmosphere without protection. But they had inherited, and could not -easily throw off, earthly conceptions of comfort. And they had their -rights. The countless things needed to build other star ships would -soon begin to follow them.</p> - -<p>The first group of interstellar migrants didn't have to go anywhere -near Titan. The star ship came to Earth again, to orbit around it. -Small rocket tenders were there to bring the passengers up to the -boarding locks.</p> - -<p>At the take-off platforms, Ed Dukas saw his parents for the last time. -Jack Dukas, who had chosen to remain on Earth with his wife, shook Ed's -hand warmly. Let them try their simple life of thatched stone houses -on hillsides, Ed thought, let them defy what seemed a too involved -civilization. Perhaps after the android exodus, some few would even -make it work—on Venus, if not at home.</p> - -<p>Ed hugged his mother. They had memories. Now Ed stretched optimism -considerably. "At last there can be a lot of time, Mom," he said. -"Enough so that we might even see each other again, someplace...."</p> - -<p>Soon he and Barbara were up there in the great ship. To his touch, her -arm was as smooth and soft as ever. Her hair was dark and thick, her -eyes were bright with adventure, her skin a golden tan. And was it a -loss that she could have bent crowbar with her bare hands, or have -braved a vacuum at near absolute-zero temperature without harm?</p> - -<p>"You're insulting me in your mind, Ed," she joshed gaily. "Not that I'm -much bothered. So the robot stoops to conquer, eh? Of course we have no -souls, Eddie."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not!" he responded in the same manner. "All our hopes spring -from human sources. Even our firmer flesh was a human dream. Yet you -can practically hear our mechanical joints creak. The old race was -created perfect. Who could ever dare to make it any better?"</p> - -<p>Ed's sarcasm was honest. Yet he knew that before the unprobed distance, -even the ruggedest of his kind were disposed to do a little whistling -in the dark.</p> - -<p>Around them in the ship's huge assembly room, there were shouts, -greetings, jokes and laughter. A young couple chatted brightly. A child -studied a toy with serious petulance. A man consulted a notebook. -Perhaps few here yet realized their range, power and freedom or just -what they faced. Their environment had been narrow, like all earthly -history. No doubt many were afraid of the strangeness and time and -distance ahead. They had reason to be. Out there in the black pit of -the galaxy, even giant stars could perish.</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell had not yet come aboard. Abel Freeman had already left -for Titan—without his willful daughter. Schaeffer, the scientist, had -gone with him.</p> - -<p>Under Harwell's commands, the colossal craft kept taking on migrants -at top speed for thirty hours. They boarded in numbers out of all -proportion to the available living space. Meanwhile there were needles -to submit to. Vitaplasm could be more rugged and adaptable now than -when it was first used. The fluids from hollow needles were the means -of imparting the improvements.</p> - -<p>At last the ship quivered slightly. In contact with the heat of fusion -of hydrogen and lithium to form the gaseous stellar ash called helium, -any material rocket chamber would have been scattered instantly -as incandescent vapor. But space warps stood firm in their place, -squeezing with an atom-crushing pressure of their own, natural only -at the centers of stars. And now there was no secondary arrangement -for the conversion of such power as was released into electricity. -Even the helium became pure radiation that emerged in a stream. It -was a continuous, directed explosion of light, far stronger within -its narrow limits than the outburst of a supernova. It had been known -for centuries that light had both mass and pressure, and here it -was concentrated matter—the ultimate in propulsive thrust—changed -completely to energy. On the sullen Earth, neither man nor android -dared watch that thin thread of fury, while slowly the ship began to -accelerate toward a five-figure number of miles per second.</p> - -<p>It was the start of the departure of fear from an ancient race. Or so -it was meant to be. From Earth, curses no doubt followed the ship—and -sighs of relief, and regrets, and good wishes. This setting forth -should have been a human triumph. Many would insist that it was not -that. Others knew that it was.</p> - -<p>Braced in a cubicle two meters long, one wide and half a meter high, Ed -Dukas held his wife's hand. Tiered rows of other cubicles were around -them. Mitchell Prell had been with them minutes ago, and he had simply -said, "Good night," half jokingly. Or was it more whistling in the dark?</p> - -<p>"Just good night. That's how it'll be, sweet," Ed whispered now. "The -years won't mean anything. In the old mythology, the demigods could -sleep for a millennium."</p> - -<p>So the small spark of dread flickered out in them, as they invoked a -power which they had used before, in smaller android bodies, and for a -much shorter interval. No drug was needed. Their sleep became suspended -animation.</p> - -<p>Fine dust began to settle on them. But after forty years, measured by -the ship's chronometers—on the basis of a retarded time imparted to -objects moving at high velocity, a somewhat longer interval must have -passed on Earth—Ed was awakened to help patrol the vessel.</p> - -<p>With a few other silent men, he moved through its ghostly, dimly -lighted corridors and compartments inhabited by the living dead. The -stillness was all around, and outside only the stars burned in the -void. The decades had been like the passing of a night of sleep; -yet now awake, Ed was aware that the time had gone, building up an -unimaginable distance. Here was the abyss. It was a cold awareness -which made him neither confident nor happy. Sometimes he looked down at -Barbara's quiet face, but he did not wish her to awaken now.</p> - -<p>Ahead was Sirius, brighter than before. Beside it, visible at least -to the unaided eye, was the dim speck of its companion star, a white -dwarf, shrunken and old, little larger than the Earth, but incredibly -massive, the very atoms at its core compressed by its fearsome gravity -and the weight of material above them. This dwarf's internal substance, -largely pure nuclear matter, would have weighed tons per cubic inch.</p> - -<p>Instruments, brought nearer to a destination, now showed more clearly, -by the irregularities in the movements of this binary system, the -existence of planets pursuing changing paths in the complicated cross -drags of two stellar bodies revolving around a common center. Those -worlds, known of on Earth for a quarter century, were still out of -telescopic view. Their seasons must be crazy—hot, cold, uncertain. -Yet other, nearer star systems had the same, and worse, drawbacks. And -Sirius was relatively near, too. Besides, need an android worry about -the fluctuations of mad climates so much?</p> - -<p>After a month, Ed Dukas relinquished his duties to others who were -aroused briefly. He slept again, for more decades, and on through the -first contact with a Sirian world. His mind still slightly blurred, he -came down in a tender from the orbiting star ship, after others had -landed. Barbara was with him. Somewhere far ahead, among hills rapidly -shedding their glacial coat under hot sunshine, was Mitchell Prell.</p> - -<p>The sunshine came from Sirius itself, farther away than the distance -from Earth to Uranus; hence its size and brilliance were counteracted. -Yet this world did not attend Sirius directly. It belonged to -the white-hot speck at zenith—the dwarf with an almost equal -attraction—tiny, but much closer. The planet hurried like a moon -around this miniature sun.</p> - -<p>Ed looked up at thin fish-scale clouds that were rose-tinted. Before -him was a prairie covered with waving stalks bearing white plumes. -Might you call them flowers blown by the wind?</p> - -<p>High up among the melting ice he saw a tower and maybe a roadway. -Later he beheld two shapes, brown and rough, with four tapered, -flexible limbs radiating from a central lump. Man, with his arms and -legs, also has vaguely the form of a cross. But these were different, -though sometimes they almost walked, and metal devices glinted in the -equipment they wore. Had he dreamed all this somewhere years ago?... -Sometimes they rolled quickly like wheels, or they crept along, their -limbs coiling. Once they flew, with bright flashes and without wings. -But that was artificial. They moved off at last beside a shallow, -salt-rimmed sea.</p> - -<p>"We can't stay here, Eddie," Barbara stated. "It could be fascinating, -but it would be worse than on Earth."</p> - -<p>"As everyone will realize," Ed Dukas answered.</p> - -<p>So the explorers came back to the tender. Nearer to the dwarf sun they -found a world with a more stable orbit and less extremes of cold and -heat. If it was nearer the dwarf with its almost negligible radiance, -it also did not approach as close to Sirius, nor swing so far away. It -was a chilly little planet that had once been inhabited, too; but now -there were only shattered stone and glass and rusted steel. Much of it -was desert. But there were forests here and there, and high glaciers.</p> - -<p>High on a clifftop in the thin, cold atmosphere, the refugees built -their first city. It began with houses of rough logs and stone. But as -time passed and the population increased, its metal-sheathed towers -began to soar. In its glassed-in gardens, terrestrial flowers and trees -thrived, while out of doors beautiful plants of a neo-biology easily -surpassed in vigor the hardy local growths. There were theaters, stores -and libraries. There was feminine fashion. Thus, nostalgically, an old -earthly way was copied, though Earth was lost. There was no method to -speak across the light-years. Earth might even belong to a somewhat -different branch of time. But all this did not include the major point -of separation. That was expressed in the way these people climbed the -highest mountains without tiring and let the hoarfrost of fearsome cold -gather on their bare faces without discomfort.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, on blizzard nights, while they took the sleep that they did -not need for more than the pleasure of it, Barbara and Ed would leave -the windows open to the storm.</p> - -<p>"Roofs, buildings—why do we even bother with them?" Ed would say -jokingly.</p> - -<p>His wife would look at him somewhat worriedly, as if he meant it. As -if here there were a bitter strangeness that lowered all earthly art -and charm and comfort and sense of home to a futility. But then she'd -manage to laugh lightly, though often she didn't quite feel that way. -"You know why we bother, Ed," she'd answer. "Because we want to stay -somewhat as we once were. Didn't you always agree to that? Because it's -hard to change old habits and limitations, and grasp the freedom you're -thinking about, Eddie. Sometimes I even suspect that we try to hide -from that freedom."</p> - -<p>Ed would scowl, feeling all of these thoughts, too. They had all the -freedom that men had envisioned long ago: practical freedom from death, -except from extreme violence; freedom from aging, freedom of mind, -of action, of shape and size; the freedom of peace and plenty, and -boundless energy. But beyond all this, like a goad, there often was, -already, much more than a ghost of that ancient human restlessness that -always had thrived on strength.</p> - -<p>"Are you happy here, Babs?" Ed asked once when there had been time to -doubt.</p> - -<p>By then they already had two young sons, born of new flesh in an old -way.</p> - -<p>"Of course—reasonably," she chuckled. "Though I have my moods. Then I -don't quite know.... But, Eddie, this is the great, marvelous future, -isn't it—the one we looked forward to with longing and wonder? We -ought to appreciate it completely."</p> - -<p>"It is that future. But now, sweetheart, it's also just the present."</p> - -<p>There were incidents to match such restless talk and thinking. There -was Mitchell Prell, always groping for new things, shouting down from a -cragtop, or from his laboratory, "Hey, Ed! Barbara! Come here!"</p> - -<p>Maybe he'd discovered a vein of ore that might be mined, or a strange -specimen of hitherto unnoticed local fauna or flora. He remained a -scientist, while Ed had become a mere builder of buildings.</p> - -<p>More than likely, the woman Prell had married would be with him—she -had been Nancy Freeman of a fantastic origin. That he had separated -himself enough from his studies to take a wife was a minor miracle. -That these so-different two should be together was certainly another. -That she had learned to be both tasteful and poised, though no less -vigorous than ever, had perhaps been hoped for by the first romancing -thought that had given her real being on Earth.</p> - -<p>To live in peace, comfort and beauty, Ed now realized, was not a final -goal. The wild nomad, like Prell, shouting down from mountaintops, -always seeking the unknown and straining to be bigger than his -powers—however great they might have become—still had to be served. -Otherwise pride was insulted, the urge to learn and progress was -defeated; boredom set in, and centuries of life were not worth living.</p> - -<p>Besides, belatedly, after years, there were voices, speaking out of -wireless equipment in a way that Ed and Barbara Dukas and Mitchell -Prell had reason to remember. That this world was now haunted by beings -that floated with the dust in the air was a fact which in itself had an -eerie, nomadic charm. Three tiny beings. No, now there were four.</p> - -<p>"Hello! Did you guess that we came with you on the star ship?... But -we stayed on that first planet. Then we visited others. Once we slept -under a glacier—we don't know how long. Now we have built another -biological workshop. So we will not be lonely. There will be many of -us. I see you have done well. What comes next?"</p> - -<p>Ed had the odd and startling impression of having been spoken to -by himself. But he and a tiny speck of the clay of the half-gods -were entirely distinct, even if their names were the same. The vast -difference in size, enforcing separate thought patterns to meet the -problems of different environment, had widened the gap further.</p> - -<p>"It's us!" Barbara said.</p> - -<p>Mitchell Prell and Nancy were also present just then, in the Dukas -house. Perhaps the visitors had waited for them to be there.</p> - -<p>"I know who you mean," Nancy remarked. "Your little folk, Mitch. Tell -them something. Or do they embarrass you by being so strange? Have you -forgotten?"</p> - -<p>Prell laughed somewhat unsteadily. Other interests had long ago taken -his attention away from the small regions that were within the reach of -android powers.</p> - -<p>"They're special friends," he said. "We won't have any trouble talking -to them. Hello yourselves!"</p> - -<p>So it was, for an hour. There was a mood of elfin charm, of expanded -dimensions, of soft, rich colors; of physical laws wonderfully -different in effect. The memory was haunting. But the larger Ed and -Barbara had no present wish to return to that fantastic land. It was -not their destiny.</p> - -<p>"So long for now...." The voices faded away playfully. But as Sirian -time built Terran years, they were occasionally heard again, bearing a -note of challenge.</p> - -<p>The new city had grown huge. The surrounding country was becoming -populous. And the inevitable happened, like part of a plan implanted -in the nature of man from the beginning—to grow, to reach out, to -be bigger in all things than he was before, though perhaps even to -imagine the final goal itself was still beyond his intelligence and his -experience. Now a more rugged body only made the drives stronger and -the outcome more sure.</p> - -<p>Still orbiting around this first colonial world, outside the old solar -system and linked to the history of Earth, was the star ship, kept -always in careful order. But on a small, jagged moon, a larger, better -craft was under construction. It would have thrilled ancient blood; it -could stir an android more.</p> - -<p>Something sultry began to ache in Ed Dukas's mind at the thought of -restraint.</p> - -<p>"Some of us will have to go on, Babs," he said one dwarf-lit -half-night. "Blame it on fundamental biological law—in me, and the -boys, too. Call it building an empire too big for any government. Maybe -it's an intended step—toward some other condition still out of sight. -No doubt we're far from the end of what we can become. I don't know. -I don't really care. I'm just a man and glad of it. I only know how I -feel, and I suspect that, deep down, you feel the same!"</p> - -<p>For a moment Barbara was angry and sad. She still had a woman's wish -for permanence. She knew that Ed was thinking of other stars and their -systems—red giants, flickering variables, bursting novae—a whole -universe of mystery beckoning to a new kind of human. Even the ugly -coal-sack clouds of cosmic dust could have their appeal. She herself -was not beyond being intrigued by such things.</p> - -<p>She walked across her pleasant room, which had begun to bore her a -little, as Ed knew. "I'm game," she said mildly.</p> - -<p>Inconceivably far off were other galaxies. Maybe Ed read her mind -a little, as she thought of the vast, tilted swirl of the one in -Andromeda, almost as big as their native Milky Way. It was the nearest, -but so distant that all the light-years they had crossed could seem -a mile by comparison. As a child she used to look at a picture of it -and think that everything she could imagine, and much more, was there: -books, musical instruments, summer nights, dark horror.</p> - -<p>Ed and she were like the pagan divinities dreamed up wistfully long -ago. Yet now she felt very humble.</p> - -<p>"Ed—"</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"I was just wondering where God lives," she said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="ph2">ABOUT THE AUTHOR</p> - - -<p><i>Ray Gallun's stories have appeared in virtually every science-fiction -magazine known to English-speaking man</i>—Galaxy, Astounding Science -Fiction, Amazing Stories, Marvel Tales, Startling Stories, <i>etc.</i>, -<i>etc.</i>, <i>plus</i> Collier's, Family Circle, Utopia (<i>Germany</i>), <i>and -various anthologies</i>.</p> - -<p><i>He was born in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, in 1910, attended the University -of Wisconsin, and has since spent most of his time, when not writing, -traveling through the U. S., Mexico, Hawaii, Europe, and the Middle -East. He is currently a resident of New York City.</i></p> - - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="ph3">"AMONG THE BETTER SCIENCE-FICTION NOVELS."—<i>Wilmington News</i></p> - - -<p>"Scientific experiments on the moon and an accidental lunar explosion -that seared the earth triggers another tale from the imaginative pen of -Raymond Z. Gallun, a familiar name to science-fiction readers.</p> - -<p>"The secret of life and the restoring to the living of victims of -the holocaust initiate a conflict for Ed Dukas, Gallun's scientific -pioneer of the future. Restoring persons through scientific methods, -personality records and the memories of near kin, leaves one fatal -flaw. They lack one indefinable quality—a divine spark, perhaps a soul.</p> - -<p>"Gallun depicts a struggle between the restored people and the natural -living. Life on the asteroids, thought machines, a journey to Mars and -a star ship expedition to Sirius are woven into the plot.</p> - -<p class="ph3">"PEOPLE MINUS X is packed with action, science-fiction style."—<i>Detroit Times</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - - - -<p class="ph3"><i>Of special interest to science-fiction readers</i>—<br /> -ACE BOOKS<br /> -<i>recommends these exciting new volumes</i>:</p> - - - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-223</b> <b>THE 13TH IMMORTAL</b> by Robert Silverberg<br /> -Was he a fugitive from Utopia?<br /> -<i>and</i> <b>THIS FORTRESS WORLD</b> by James E. Gunn<br /> -He brought the skies down upon him.</p> - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-255</b> <b>CITY UNDER THE SEA</b> by Kenneth Bulmer<br /> -Despots of the ocean bottom.<br /> -<i>and</i> <b>STAR WAYS</b> by Poul Anderson<br /> -"Enjoyable, fast-moving, convincing."—<i>Astounding S.F.</i></p> - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-261</b> <b>THE VARIABLE MAN AND OTHER STORIES</b> -by Philip K. Dick<br /> -Five exciting adventures in the future.</p> - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-277</b> <b>CITY ON THE MOON</b> by Murray Leinster<br /> -A novel of the first lunar colonists<br /> -<i>and</i> <b>MEN ON THE MOON</b><br /> -Edited by Donald A. Wollheim<br /> -A new anthology of lunar exploration.</p> - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-286</b> <b>ACROSS TIME</b> by David Grinnell<br /> -Kidnapped into the future!<br /> -<i>and</i> <b>INVADERS FROM EARTH</b> -by Robert Silverberg<br /> -His lies decided the fate of two worlds.</p> - - - -<p class="ph4">35¢</p> - -<p class="ph4">If not available at your newsdealer, any of these books may be bought<br /> -by sending 35¢ (plus 5¢ handling fee) for each number to<br /> -Ace Books, Inc. (Sales Dept.), 23 W. 47th St., New York 36, N. 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Wollheim<br /> -Exciting stories of invaders from space.<br /> -<i>and</i> <b>WHO SPEAKS OF CONQUEST?</b> -by Lan Wright<br /> -The galaxy said: "Earthmen, go home!"</p> - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-215</b> <b>THREE TO CONQUER</b> by Eric Frank Russell<br /> -Only one man knew the Earth was invaded!<br /> -<i>and</i> <b>DOOMSDAY EVE</b> by Robert Moore Williams<br /> -Were the strangers impervious to H-Bombs?</p> - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-199</b> <b>STAR GUARD</b> by Andre Norton<br /> -"Fast-paced and good reading."—<i>Saturday Review</i><br /> -<i>and</i> <b>THE PLANET OF NO RETURN</b> -by Poul Anderson<br /> -The first—or the last—on that new world?</p> - -<p class="ph3"><b>D-193</b> <b>THE MAN WHO JAPED</b> by Philip K. Dick<br /> -In the days of the robot peeping toms!<br /> -<i>and</i> <b>THE SPACE-BORN</b> by E. C. Tubb<br /> -Their world was entirely man-made!</p> - -<p class="ph4">Two Complete Novels for 35¢</p> - - -<p class="ph4">If your newsdealer is sold out, send 35¢<br /> -per book number (plus 5¢ handling charges) directly to <br /> -Ace Books (Sales Dept.), 23 W. 47th St., New York 36, N. Y.</p> - -<p class="ph4"><i>Order by Book Number</i></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of People Minus X, by Raymond Zinke Gallun - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEOPLE MINUS X *** - -***** This file should be named 50063-h.htm or 50063-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/0/6/50063/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan 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 print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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