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diff --git a/old/51210.txt b/old/51210.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 85e76af..0000000 --- a/old/51210.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1998 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of I, the Unspeakable, by Walt Sheldon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: I, the Unspeakable - -Author: Walt Sheldon - -Release Date: February 14, 2016 [EBook #51210] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I, THE UNSPEAKABLE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - I, the Unspeakable - - By WALT SHELDON - - Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - "What's in a name?" might be very dangerous - to ask in certain societies, in which sticks - and stones are also a big problem! - - -I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed. -I must have blushed in my sleep. - -"_Do it!_" she said. "_Please do it! For me!_" - -It was the voice that always came, low, intense, seductive, the sound -of your hand on silk ... and to a citizen of Northem, a conformist, it -was shocking. I was a conformist then; I was still one that morning. - -I awoke. The glowlight was on, slowly increasing. I was in my living -machine in Center Four, where I belonged, and all the familiar things -were about me, reality was back, but I was breathing very hard. - -I lay on the pneumo a while before getting up. I looked at the -chroner: 0703 hours, Day 17, Month IX, New Century Three. My morning -nuro-tablets had already popped from the tube, and the timer had begun -to boil an egg. The egg was there because the realfood allotment had -been increased last month. The balance of trade with Southem had just -swung a decimal or two our way. - -I rose finally, stepped to the mirror, switched it to positive and -looked at myself. New wrinkles--or maybe just a deepening of the old -ones. It was beginning to show; the past two years were leaving traces. - -I hadn't worried about my appearance when I'd been with the Office of -Weapons. There, I'd been able to keep pretty much to myself, doing -research on magnetic mechanics as applied to space drive. But other -jobs, where you had to be among people, might be different. I needed -every possible thing in my favor. - -Yes, I still hoped for a job, even after two years. I still meant to -keep on plugging, making the rounds. - -I'd go out again today. - -The timer clicked and my egg was ready. I swallowed the tablets and -then took the egg to the table to savor it and make it last. - -As I leaned forward to sit, the metal tag dangled from my neck, -catching the glowlight. My identity tag. - -Everything came back in a rush-- - -My name. The dream and _her_ voice. And her suggestion. - -_Would I dare? Would I start out this very morning and take the risk, -the terrible risk?_ - - * * * * * - -You remember renumbering. Two years ago. You remember how it was then; -how everybody looked forward to his new designation, and how everybody -made jokes about the way the letters came out, and how all the records -were for a while fouled up beyond recognition. - -The telecomics kidded renumbering. One went a little too far and -they psycho-scanned him and then sent him to Marscol as a dangerous -nonconform. - -If you were disappointed with your new designation, you didn't -complain. You didn't want a sudden visit from the Deacons during the -night. - -There had to be renumbering. We all understood that. With the -population of Northem already past two billion, the old designations -were too clumsy. Renumbering was efficient. It contributed to the good -of Northem. It helped advance the warless struggle with Southem. - -The equator is the boundary. I understand that once there was -a political difference and that the two superstates sprawled -longitudinally, not latitudinally, over the globe. Now they are pretty -much the same. There is the truce, and they are both geared for war. -They are both efficient states, as tightly controlled as an experiment -with enzymes, as microsurgery, as the temper of a diplomat. - -We were renumbered, then, in Northem. You know the system: everybody -now has six digits and an additional prefix or suffix of four letters. -Stateleader, for instance, has the designation AAAA-111/111. Now, to -address somebody by calling off four letters is a little clumsy. We try -to pronounce them when they are pronounceable. That is, no one says to -Stateleader, "Good morning, A-A-A-A." They say, "Good morning, Aaaa." - -Reading the last quote, I notice a curious effect. It says what I feel. -Of course I didn't feel that way on that particular morning. I was -still conformal; the last thing in my mind was that I would infract and -be psycho-scanned. - -Four letters then, and in many cases a pronounceable four letter word. - -A four letter word. - -Yes, you suspect already. You know what a four letter word can be. - -Mine was. - -It was unspeakable. - -The slight weight on my forehead reminded me that I still wore my -sleep-learner. I'd been studying administrative cybernetics, hoping to -qualify in that field, although it was a poor substitute for a space -drive expert. I removed the band and stepped across the room and -turned off the oscillator. I went back to my egg and my bitter memories. - -I will never forget the first day I received my new four letter -combination and reported it to my chief, as required. I was unthinkably -embarrassed. He didn't say anything. He just swallowed and choked -and became crimson when he saw it. He didn't dare pass it to his -secretarial engineer; he went to the administrative circuits and -registered it himself. - -I can't blame him for easing me out. He was trying to run an efficient -organization, after all, and no doubt I upset its efficiency. My work -was important--magnetic mechanics was the only way to handle quanta -reaction, or the so-called non-energy drive, and was therefore the -answer to feasible space travel beyond our present limit of Mars--and -there were frequent inspection tours by Big Wheels and Very Important -Persons. - -Whenever anyone, especially a woman, asked my name, the embarrassment -would become a crackling electric field all about us. The best tactic -was just not to answer. - - * * * * * - -The chief called me in one day. He looked haggard. - -"Er--old man," he said, not quite able to bring himself to utter my -name, "I'm going to have to switch you to another department. How would -you like to work on nutrition kits? Very interesting work." - -"Nutrition kits? _Me?_ On nutrition kits?" - -"Well, I--er--know it sounds unusual, but it justifies. I just had -the cybs work it over in the light of present regulations, and it -justifies." - -Everything had to justify, of course. Every act in the monthly report -had to be covered by regulations and cross-regulations. Of course there -were so many regulations that if you just took the time to work it out, -you could justify damn near anything. I knew what the chief was up to. -Just to remove me from my post would have taken a year of applications -and hearings and innumerable visits to the capital in Center One. But -if I should infract--deliberately infract--it would enable the chief to -let me go. The equivalent of resigning. - -"I'll infract," I said. "Rather than go on nutrition kits, I'll -infract." - -He looked vastly relieved. "Uh--fine," he said. "I rather hoped you -would." - -It took a week or so. Then I was on Non-Productive status and issued an -N/P book for my necessities. Very few luxury coupons in the N/P book. -I didn't really mind at first. My new living machine was smaller, but -basically comfortable, and since I was still a loyal member of the -state and a verified conformist, I wouldn't starve. - -But I didn't know what I was in for. - -I went from bureau to bureau, office to office, department to -department--any place where they might use a space drive expert. A -pattern began to emerge; the same story everywhere. When I mentioned my -specialty they would look delighted. When I handed them my tag and they -saw my name, they would go into immediate polite confusion. As soon as -they recovered they would say they'd call me if anything turned up.... - - * * * * * - -A few weeks of this and I became a bit dazed. - -And then there was the problem of everyday existence. You might say -it's lucky to be an N/P for a while. I've heard people say that. Basic -needs provided, worlds of leisure time; on the surface it sounds -attractive. - -But let me give you an example. Say it is monthly realfood day. You go -to the store, your mouth already watering in anticipation. You take -your place in line and wait for your package. The distributor takes -your coupon book and is all ready to reach for your package--and then -he sees the fatal letters N/P. Non-Producer. A drone, a drain upon the -State. You can see his stare curdle. He scowls at the book again. - -"Not sure this is in order. Better go to the end of the line. We'll -check it later." - -You know what happens before the end of the line reaches the counter. -No more packages. - -Well, I couldn't get myself off N/P status until I got a post, and -with my name I _couldn't_ get a post. - -Nor could I change my name. You know what happens when you try to -change something already on the records. The very idea of wanting -change implies criticism of the State. Unthinkable behavior. - -That was why this curious dream voice shocked me so. The thing that it -suggested was quite as embarrassing as its non-standard, emotional, -provocative tone. - -Bear with me; I'm getting to the voice--to _her_--in a moment. - -I want to tell you first about the loneliness, the terrible loneliness. -I could hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. I could join -no special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters. Although I -dabbled with theoretical research in my own quarters, I could scarcely -submit any findings for publication--not with my name attached. A -pseudonym would have been non-regulation and illegal. - -But there was the worst thing of all. I could not mate. - - * * * * * - -Funny, I hadn't thought about mating until it became impossible. I -remember the first time, out of sheer idleness, I wandered into a -Eugenic Center. I filled out my form very carefully and submitted it -for analysis and assignment. The clerk saw my name, and did the usual -double-take. He coughed and swallowed and fidgeted. - -He said, "Of course you understand that we must submit your -application to the woman authorized to spend time in the mating booths -with you, and that she has the right to refuse." - -"Yes, I understand that." - -"M'm," he said, and dismissed me with a nod. - -I waited for a call in the next few weeks, still hoping, but I knew -no woman would consent to meet a man with my name, let alone enter a -mating booth with him. - -The urge to reproduce myself became unbearable. I concocted all sorts -of wild schemes. - -I might infract socially and be classified a nonconform and sent to -Marscol. I'd heard rumors that in that desolate land, on that desolate -planet, both mingling and mating were rather disgustingly unrestricted. -Casual mating would be terribly dangerous, of course, with all the wild -irradiated genes from the atomic decade still around, but I felt I'd be -willing to risk that. Well, almost.... - -About then I began to have these dreams. As I've told you, in the dream -there was only this woman's seductive voice. The first time I heard it -I awoke in a warm sweat and swore something had gone wrong with the -sleep-learner. You never hear the actual words with this machine, of -course; you simply absorb the concepts unconsciously. Still, it seemed -an explanation. I checked thoroughly. Nothing wrong. - -The next night I heard the woman's voice again. - -"_Try it_," she said. "_Do it. Start tomorrow to get your name changed. -There will be a way. There must be a way. The rules are so mixed up -that a clever man can do almost anything. Do it, please--for me._" - - * * * * * - -She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but making -heretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deacon -to pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me. - -And I heard the voice nearly every night. - -It hammered away. - -"_What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than the -miserable existence you're leading now!_" - -One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about this -idea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be. - -She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said, "_Consult the cybs -in the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'll -find a way._" - -Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month, -I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. I -thought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost my -fanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to be -busy--desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn't -want to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself. - -I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I got -up, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find the -location of the nearest Govpub office. - -I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care. - - -II - -Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four was -underground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemed -pleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off a -bit. Think about it. Compose myself. - -At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, a -plate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it on -and get close to the speaker and I did. - -The cyb's mechanical voice--they never seem to get the "th" sounds -right--said, "This is Branch Four of the Office of Government -Publications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' as -thoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standard -phraseology." - -Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on my -knack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicate -efficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said, -"Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment, -change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generally -referred to as nomenclature." - -There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays and -brought the memory tubes in. - -Then the cyb said, "Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consult -alphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same." - -"Thanks," I said absent-mindedly. - -I started to turn away and the cyb said, "Information on tanks is -military information and classified. State authorization for--" - -I switched it off. - - * * * * * - -Numbering and Identity wasn't hard to find. I took the shaft to the -proper level and then it was only a walk of a few hundred yards through -the glowlit corridors. - -N. & I. turned out to be a big room, somewhat circular, very -high-ceilinged, with banks of cyb controls covering the upper walls. -Narrow passageways, like spokes, led off in several directions. There -was an information desk in the center of the room. - -I looked that way and my heart went into free fall. - -There was a girl at the information desk. An exceptionally attractive -girl. She was well within the limits of acceptable standard, and her -features were even enough, and her hair a middle blonde--but she had -something else. Hard to describe. It was a warmth, a buoyancy, a sense -of life and intense animation. It didn't exactly show; it radiated. It -seemed to sing out from her clear complexion, from her figure, which -even a tunic could not hide, from everything about her. - -And if I were to state my business, I would have to tell her my name. - -I almost backed out right then. I stopped momentarily. And then common -sense took hold and I realized that if I were to go through with this -thing, here would be only the first of a long series of embarrassments -and discomforts. It had to be done. - -I walked up to the desk and the girl turned to face me, and I could -have sworn that a faint smile crossed her lips. It was swift, like the -shadow of a bird across one of the lawns in one of the great parks -topside. Very non-standard. Yet I wasn't offended; if anything, I felt -suddenly and disturbingly pleased. - -"What information is desired?" she asked. Her voice was standard--or -was it? - -Again I had the feeling of restrained warmth. - -I used colloquial. "I want to get the dope on State Serial -designations, how they're assigned and so forth. Especially how they -might be changed." - -She put a handsteno on the desk top and said, "Name? Address? Post?" - -I froze. I stood there and stared at her. - -She looked up and said, "Well?" - -"I--er--no post at present. N/P status." - -Her fingers moved on the steno. - -I gave her my address and she recorded that. - -Then I paused again. - -She said, "And your name?" - -I took a deep breath and told her. - -I didn't want to look into her eyes. I wanted to look away, but I -couldn't find a decent excuse to. I saw her eyes become wide and -noticed for the first time that they were a warm gray, almost a mouse -color. I felt like laughing at that irrelevant observation, but more -than that I felt like turning and running. I felt like climbing and -dashing all over the walls like a frustrated cat and yelling at the -top of my lungs. I felt like anything but standing there and looking -stupid, meeting her stare-- - - * * * * * - -She looked down quickly and recorded my name. It took her a little -longer than necessary. In that time she recovered. Somewhat. - -"All right," she said finally, "I'll make a search." - -She turned to a row of buttons on a console in the center of the desk -and began to press them in various combinations. A typer clicked away. -She tore off a slip of paper, consulted it, and said, "Information -desired is in Bank 29. Please follow me." - -Well, following her was a pleasure, anyway. I could watch the movement -of her hips and torso as she walked. She was not tall, but long-legged -and extremely lithe. Graceful and rhythmic. Very, very feminine, almost -beyond standard in that respect. I felt blood throb in my temples and -was heartily ashamed of myself. - -I would like to be in a mating booth with her, I thought, the full -authorized twenty minutes. And I knew I was unconformist and the -realization hardly scared me at all. - -She led me down one of the long passageways. - -A few moments later I said, "Don't you sometimes get--well, pretty -lonely working here?" Personal talk at a time like this wasn't approved -behavior, but I couldn't help it. - -She answered hesitantly, but at least she answered. She said, "Not -terribly. The cybs are company enough most of the time." - -"You don't get many visitors, then." - -"Not right here. N. & I. isn't a very popular section. Most people who -come to Govpub spend their time researching in the ancient manuscript -room. The--er--social habits of the pre-atomic civilization." - -I laughed. I knew what she meant, all right. Pre-atomics and their -ideas about free mating always fascinated people. I moved up beside -her. "What's your name, by the way?" - -"L-A-R-A 339/827." - -I pronounced it. "Lara. Lah-rah. That's beautiful. Fits you, too." - - * * * * * - -She didn't answer; she kept her eyes straight ahead and I saw the faint -spot of color on her cheek. - -I had a sudden impulse to ask her to meet me after hours at one -of the rec centers. If it had been my danger alone, I might have, -but I couldn't very well ask her to risk discovery of a haphazard, -unauthorized arrangement like that and the possibility of going to the -psycho-scan. - -We came to a turn in the corridor and something happened; I'm not sure -just how it happened. I keep telling myself that my movements were not -actually deliberate. I was to the right of her. The turn was to the -left. She turned quickly, and I didn't, so that I bumped into her, -knocking her off balance. I grabbed her to keep her from falling. - -For a moment we stood there, face to face, touching each other lightly. -I held her by the arms. I felt the primitive warmth of her breath. Our -eyes held together ... proton ... electron ... I felt her tremble. - -She broke from my grip suddenly and started off again. - -After that she was very business-like. - -We came finally to the controls of Bank 29 and she stood before them -and began to press button combinations. I watched her work; I watched -her move. I had almost forgotten why I'd come here. The lights blinked -on and off and the typers clacked softly as the machine sorted out -information. - -She had a long printed sheet from the roll presently. She frowned at -it and turned to me. "You can take this along and study it," she said, -"but I'm afraid what you have in mind may be--a little difficult." - -She must have guessed what I had in mind. I said, "I didn't think it -would be easy." - -"It seems that the only agency authorized to change a State Serial -under any circumstances is Opsych." - -"Opsych?" You can't keep up with all these departments. - -"The Office of Psychological Adjustment. They can change you if you go -from a lower to higher E.A.C." - -"I don't get it, exactly." - -As she spoke I had the idea that there was sympathy in her voice. Just -an overtone. "Well," she said, "as you know, the post a person is -qualified to hold often depends largely on his Emotional Adjustment -Category. Now if he improves and passes from, let us say, Grade 3 to -Grade 4, he will probably change his place of work. In order to protect -him from any associative maladjustments developed under the old E.A.C, -he is permitted a new number." - -I groaned. "But I'm already in the highest E.A.C.!" - -"It looks very uncertain then." - -"Sometimes I think I'd be better off in the mines, or on -Marscol--or--in the hell of the pre-atomics!" - -She looked amused. "What did you say your E.A.C. was?" - -"Oh, all right. Sorry." I controlled myself and grinned. "I guess this -whole thing has been just a little too much for me. Maybe my E.A.C.'s -even gone down." - -"That might be your chance then." - -"How do you mean?" - -"If you could get to the top man in Opsych and demonstrate that your -number has inadvertently changed your E.A.C., he might be able to -justify a change." - -"By the State, he might!" I punched my palm. "Only how do I get to him?" - -"I can find his location on the cyb here. Center One, the capital, for -a guess. You'll have to get a travel permit to go there, of course. -Just a moment." - -She worked at the machine again, trying it on general data. The printed -slip came out a moment later and she read it to me. Chief, Opsych, was -in the capital all right. It didn't give the exact location of his -office, but it did tell how to find the underground bay in Center One -containing the Opsych offices. - -We headed back through the passageway then and she kept well ahead of -me. I couldn't keep my eyes from her walk, from the way she walked with -everything below her shoulders. My blood was pounding at my temples -again. - -I tried to keep the conversation going. "Do you think it'll be hard to -get a travel permit?" - -"Not impossible. My guess is that you'll be at Travbur all day -tomorrow, maybe even the next day. But you ought to be able to swing it -if you hold out long enough." - -I sighed. "I know. It's that way everywhere in Northem. Our motto ought -to be, 'Why make it difficult when with just a little more effort you -can make it impossible?'" - - * * * * * - -She started to laugh, and then, as she emerged from the passageway into -the big circular room, she cut her laugh short. - -A second later, as I came along, I saw why. - -There were two Deacons by the central desk. They were burly and had -that hard, pinched-face look and wore the usual black belts. Electric -clubs hung from the belts. Spidery looking pistols were at their sides. - -I didn't know whether these two had heard my crack or not. I know they -kept looking at me. - -Lara and I crossed the room silently, she back to her desk, I to the -exit door. The Deacons' remote, disapproving eyes swung in azimuth, -tracking us. - -I walked out and wanted to turn and smile at Lara, and get into my -smile something of the hope that someday, somewhere, I'd see her -again--but of course I didn't dare. - - -III - -I had the usual difficulties at Travbur the next day. I won't go into -them, except to say that I was batted from office to office like a ping -pong ball, and that, when I finally got my travel permit, I was made to -feel that I had stolen an original Picasso from the State Museum. - -I made it in a day. Just. I got my permit thirty seconds before closing -time. I was to take the jetcopter to Center One at 0700 hours the -following morning. - -In my living machine that evening, I was much too excited to work at -theoretical research as I usually did after a hard day of tramping -around. I bathed, I paced a while, I sat and hummed nervously and -got up and paced again. I turned on the telepuppets. There was a -drama about the space pilots who fly the nonconformist prisoners to -the forests and pulp-acetate plants on Mars. Seemed that the Southem -political prisoners who are confined to the southern hemisphere of -Mars, wanted to attack and conquer the north. The nonconformists, led -by our pilot, came through for the State in the end. Corn is thicker -than water. Standard. - -There were, however, some good stereofilm shots of the limitless -forests of Mars, and I wondered what it would be like to live there, in -a green, fresh-smelling land. Pleasant, I supposed, if you could put up -with the no doubt revolting morality of a prison planet. - -And the drama seemed to point out that there was no more security for -the nonconformists out there than for us here on Earth. Maybe somewhere -in the universe, I thought, there would be peace for men. Somewhere -beyond the solar system, perhaps, someday when we had the means to go -there.... - -Yet instinct told me that wasn't the answer, either. I thought of a -verse by an ancient pre-atomic poet named Hoffenstein. (People had -unwieldy, random combinations of letters for names in those days.) The -poem went: - - Wherever I go, - _I_ go too, - And spoil everything. - -That was it. The story of mankind. - -I turned the glowlight down and lay on the pneumo after a while, but I -didn't sleep for a long, long time. - -Then, when I did sleep, when I had been sleeping, I heard the voice -again. The low, seductive woman's voice--the startling, shocking voice -out of my unconscious. - -"_You have taken the first step_," she said. "_You are on your way -to freedom. Don't stop now. Don't sink back into the lifelessness of -conformity. Go on ... on and on. Keep struggling, for that is the only -answer...._" - - * * * * * - -I didn't exactly talk back, but in the queer way of the dream, I -_thought_ objections. I was in my thirties, at the mid-point of my -life, and the whole of that life had been spent under the State. I knew -no other way to act. Suppressing what little individuality I might -have was, for me, a way of survival. I was chockful of prescribed, -stereotyped reactions, and I held onto them even when something within -me told me what they were. This wasn't easy, this breaking away, not -even this slight departure from the secure, camouflaged norm.... - -"_The woman, Lara, attracts you_," said the voice. - -I suppose at that point I twitched or rolled in my sleep. Yes, the -voice was right, the woman Lara attracted me. So much that I ached with -it. - -"_Take her. Find a way. When you succeed in changing your name, and -know that you can do things, then find a way. There will be a way._" - -The idea at once thrilled and frightened me. - -I woke writhing and in a sweat again. - -It was morning. - -I dressed and headed for the jetcopter stage and the ship for Center -One. - -The ship was comfortable and departed on time, a transport with seats -for about twenty passengers. I sat near the tail and moodily busied -myself watching the gaunt brown earth far below. Between Centers there -was mostly desert, only occasional patches of green. Before the atomic -decade, I had heard, nearly all the earth was green and teemed with -life ... birds, insects, animals, people, too. It was hard rock and -sand now, with a few scrubs hanging on for life. The pre-atomics, who -hadn't mastered synthesization, would have a hard time scratching -existence from the earth today. - -I tried to break the sad mood, and started to look around at some of -the other passengers. That was when I first noticed the prisoners -in the forward seats. Man and woman, they were, a youngish, rather -non-descript couple, thin, very quiet. They were manacled and two -Deacons sat across from them. The Deacons' backs were turned to me and -I could see the prisoners' faces. - -They had curious faces. Their eyes were indescribably sad, and yet -their lips seemed to be ready to smile at any moment. - -They were holding hands, not seeming to care about this vulgar -emotional display. - -I had the sudden crazy idea that Lara and I were sitting there, holding -hands like that, nonconforming in the highest, and that we were -wonderfully happy. Our eyes were sad too, but we were really happy, -quietly happy, and that was why our lips stayed upon the brink of a -smile. - - * * * * * - -I sighed. My mood was just as sad, if not sadder, than it had been -before. - -Later, in the rest room, I had a chance to talk to one of the Deacons -guarding these two. I was washing my hands when he came in, and he -nodded to me briefly and said, "Nice day for a flight." - -He seemed pleasant enough, more than I would expect a Deacon to be. He -was tall and blond and rather lithe; his shoulders sloped forward like -a boxer's. - -"Taking those prisoners to Center One?" I asked. - -He nodded. "Yup. Habitual nonconforms. About as bad as they come." - -"What did they do?" - -He chuckled lasciviously. "Kept meeting each other in the rec centers. -Didn't know they were being watched. We nabbed 'em topside after they'd -gone out in the desert together." - -"What happens to them now--Marscol?" - -"They'd be lucky, brother, if that was only it. Oh, we'll ship 'em to -Mars sooner or later, but first they got to be interviewed." - -"You mean for reclassification?" - -"No. Just interviewed. We do it routine with everybody we pick up now. -Specially morals cases. That's how we crack down on other nonconforms. -They got a regular organization, you know." - -"They _have_?" - -"Sure. They're all Southem spies. Trying to weaken us for an attack, -that's all. I can spot 'em a mile away." - -I frowned and cleared my throat a little. "Wouldn't you think that any -spies would try to act as normal as possible and not call attention to -themselves by infracting morally?" - -He put a big finger on my chest. "Listen, you got no idea. I see these -buzzards in operation all the time. I know what goes on." - -"Of course. I'm sure you do." I kept the sarcasm out of my voice, but -it was a struggle. - -The finger tapped my chest, once to every word, it seemed. "We -interview 'em all. Some of 'em, they really got nothing to tell us and -the interview kind of breaks 'em. Know what I mean? But we got to do -it. If we only get dope on other nonconforms from one out of ten, we -figure we didn't waste our time." - -"You mean these--interviews of yours are a form of _torture_?" - -He gave me a hard eye and said, "We don't call it that, brother. We -don't call it that." - -"Of course," I said again, and went back to washing my hands. - -I watched the prisoners for the rest of the flight. I couldn't stop -watching them. And all this time I kept thinking of Lara, visualizing -her, seeing her young figure and her light hair and her mouse-colored -eyes, and not really knowing why. - -I had the overpowering desire to spring forward and throttle the two -Deacons and help the prisoners to escape. _Almost_ overpowering. I -didn't, naturally. - -The jetcopter lowered toward the great green parks that cover the -topside area of Center One. It was really refreshing to see them. I -understood that the lucky residents of Center One were allowed to -wander in these parks, and look at the growing things and the sky. -Then, presently, the parks were out of sight again and we were settling -on the concrete landing stage and I was back to reality. - - * * * * * - -The first contact at the Office of Psychological Adjustment was, as -usual, an information desk. There were people instead of cybs to greet -you and I suppose that was because of the special complications of -problems brought here. The cybs have their limits, after all. - -A gray man with a gray eye and a face like a mimeographed bulletin -looked at me and said, in approved voice and standard phraseology, -"what information is desired?" - -I told him. - -His eyebrows rose, as if suddenly buoyant. "_Change your name?_ That's -impossible." - -I quoted, verse and chapter, the regulation covering it. "H'm," he -said. His eyebrows came down, cuddling into a scowl. "Well, that's -highly unusual procedure. Better let me see your identity tag." - -I gave that to him and he saw my N/P status, and then my unspeakable -name, and his eyebrows went up again. - -"Perhaps you'd better get this straightened out with General -Administration first," he said. He scribbled a slip of paper, showing -me how to get there. - -The rat race was on. - -I found General Administration. They sent me to Activity Control. -Activity Control said they couldn't do a thing until I was registered. -I went to Registration. Registration said oh, no, I shouldn't have -been sent there--although they'd try to direct me to the proper office -if I got an okay from Investigation and Security. I. & S. said the -regulation I quoted had been amended and I would have to have the -amendment first and I could find that in Records. Records sent me back -to the first place to get a Search Permit. - -And so on. - -I kept at it doggedly. Toward the end of the day my legs ached and head -felt like a ball of granite. I had discovered that Opsych had nearly as -many levels and tunnels and bays as Center Four in its entirety, and -I had taken the intercom cars when possible, but most of it had been -walking. I tightened my jaw and pulled my stomach in. I'd get to see -the Chief if it took me a year. - -That was hyperbole, of course. No man could last a year walking those -dim, monotonous, aseptic corridors. How can I describe the feeling? The -corridors are the same wherever you go. The glowlight comes steadily, -unblinkingly, from the walls. The color is a dead oyster white. - -There is always the feeling of being lost--even when you know, or think -you know, exactly where you are. - - * * * * * - -It was near the end of the day and I was back at the information desk. - -"You again," said the gray man with the gray eye. - -"Records says I need a Search Permit. I have to find an amendment on -the regulation covering my case." - -"Why don't you just give up? You're causing us a great deal of trouble, -you know. We have other work to do. Important work." - -"So have I. I'm a magnetic mechanics expert. I could be working for -the State right now if I could get a post. I can't get a post till my -name's changed." - -"That's ridiculous." - -"I agree. But it's true just the same." - -"Well, here's your Search Permit. But I still think you'd be wiser to -forget it. And you'd save us a lot of fuss." - -I leaned across the desk. "You could save the whole organization a lot -of fuss if you'd direct me to the Chief's office. Then I could take my -case up with him directly. I've been keeping my eye open for it, but I -can't find it anywhere, and of course nobody'll direct me there, even -if they know where it is." - -He stared at me with mild horror. "_Go direct to the Chief's office? -Without going through channels?_" - -"Well, that's what I had in mind." - -"Then you'd better get it out of your mind. That's pretty dangerous -thinking. That's close to infraction." - -"All right." I sighed. "I'll do it the hard way." I took the Search -Permit and went back to Records. I was still searching for the -amendment when closing time came. - -I went back into the dim white corridors and found a foodmat, got some -nutro-pills and reviewed the day. These workers here in Center One -were experts at putting you off. They were much more skilful than the -officials in Center Four. Maybe that was why they were in Center One. -Maybe I never would wear them down. - -That thought came along and formed a ball of ice right in the bottom of -my stomach. - -I had to think. I had to think and rest. Real air and a night breeze -would help. - -I found a shaft and went topside. - -I started walking along a winding trail in the great park. The stars -were out. They were diamonds, ground to dust, and thrown carelessly -across the black velvet of the sky. The moon had not yet risen. There -was a breeze, cool and light, and it brought temporary sanity. At least -it helped me realize I was tired. - -I came to a little brook, and, instead of crossing the foot bridge, I -turned and followed the brook upstream. It led through groves of trees -and presently I found a little clearing where the bank sloped gently -and was covered with soft moss. At the water's edge, the bank and a -rock formation made a kind of overhanging ledge and I sat on this a -while and stared at the water, liquid silver, tumbling below. - -Finally I moved up the bank a little, wrapped my cloak around me and -lay down. I looked at the stars. I wondered which one might be Mars. -It was red, I'd heard, but I saw nothing like that. Probably it wasn't -visible now. I got to thinking about Mars, and I got to thinking about -the prison colony there, and then I got to thinking about the primitive -life, and then free-mating. - -That made me think of Lara, and her firm body and long, clean limbs and -blonde hair and mouse-colored eyes. - -I drifted off to sleep. Lara stayed with me; she stepped into my -dream. It was a wonderful dream. Her voice, when she broke from -standard, was thrilling and delicious. It was linked with the tumbling -of the brook somehow. She was warm and vibrant in my arms. She was -alive, so alive. She was all movement. - -We were laughing together and.... - - * * * * * - -I awoke to the sound of shooting. - -The moon had risen and the broad glades were silver green and the trees -were casting shadows. Voices were barking back and forth within the -woods. - -"Over that way!" called one. - -"Cut 'em off! Cut 'em off!" yelled another. - -A man and woman, both entirely naked, both speckled with wounds and -bruises, all standard in questioning, stumbled into the clearing. Their -eyes were wild, big for their faces. They were thin. They gasped for -breath. They looked around them, rats in mazes, and then saw me. - -They drew back. - -"This way!" called a voice from the wood. - -Another shot rang out. - -I stared at the man and woman, still too surprised to know what to do -or say. - -They were the two prisoners I had seen in the jetcopter on my way to -Center One. - - -IV - -Maybe I was not quite awake. Maybe I was not really bright, though -everybody thinks of himself as bright, I suppose. Maybe it was -everything that had happened since the renumbering. Maybe I was fed up -and maybe something about the quiet woods called out: _Rebel! Rebel!_ - -I don't know. - -I pointed to the brook, the overhanging bank, and said, "In there! -Quick!" - -They scuttled. They passed me and looked at me half-thankfully, -half-fearfully. - -The voices came nearer. - -"Come on! This way! They can't get far!" - -I wrapped myself in my cloak and sat down and pretended to be gazing at -the stars. - -A moment later three Deacons burst upon the clearing. I turned slowly, -and stared at them, showing mild artificial surprise. Handsome, burly -fellows. The one in the middle was a positive Apollo; I was sure that -he waved his hair. He glared at me. - -"You," he said. - -"Me?" - -"Yes, you. What are you doing here?" - -I said, "I'm sitting here." - -"What for?" - -"The night air. To study the stars. Get a change of scene." I shrugged. - -Apollo stepped forward and held out his hand. "Your tag." - -This was it. When he saw my four letter name he'd really start working -on me. I unsnapped the tag from my neck band and handed it to him. - -He looked at it, but didn't change expression. The Deacons are -well-trained. He looked up again. "N/P, eh?" - -"Yes." - -"And you belong in Center Four." - -"Yes." - -"Explain." - -I did. Or tried to. Things were roiling around inside me, keeping me -from thinking clearly. Once, as I talked, I thought I heard movement -under the bank, but the Deacons didn't seem to notice anything. I tried -to tell them of my troubles. - -There was no sympathy in their eyes. - -Apollo said, "See anybody pass by here?" - -"Pass by?" I hoped my look was innocent. "Who?" - -"Two fugitives. Nonconforms. Escaped during interview. Got the force -screen turned off somehow--must have had spies helping them. You didn't -see them, eh?" - -I shook my head. "I haven't seen anyone for several hours." - - * * * * * - -Apollo and his two friends traded glances. The one on the right was -bull-necked and red-headed; the one on the left had a neck and nose -like a crane. It was the one on the left who suddenly smiled. Not a -pleasant smile. He stepped up to Apollo and whispered something in his -ear. Then Apollo smiled and turned to me again. - -"You're _sure_ you haven't seen anyone." - -He knew something. I didn't know what, but it was too late to back out -now. I said, "Of course I'm sure." - -Apollo kept his eyes on me, hard, flat, stony, and held out his hand -to the cranelike Deacon. "Your light," he said. The other handed it to -him. Apollo flashed it on the ground. It came to rest upon unmistakable -footprints in the soft moss. They led to the bank. - -I could be certain of arrest, and one of their little interviews now. I -really had nothing to lose. Nothing that wasn't already lost-- - -"Run!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "They're coming!" - -There was a rustling under the bank. - -I leaped at Apollo. I leaped hard, with my feet solid, pushing me -forward. My shoulder hit him in the midriff. He went down. I scrambled -over him and jammed my thumb into his shoulder. He screamed. - -There was a buzzing sound and the smell of burned flesh, and a tenth of -a second later I felt pain. One of the others had jammed his electric -truncheon into the small of my back. It bored in, it burned, and I -writhed and yelled. I couldn't help it. I rolled over. - -Someone was kicking at me. I grabbed his leg and pulled him down and -when he struck the ground I twisted. Another shape blurred toward -me--Apollo, recovered and on his feet again. Then buzzing, burned -flesh, and the pain this time in the back of my neck. My head swirled. -I thrashed, trying to get away. Get away where? That made not much -difference. Away, that was all. - -The buzzing continued. It was through my flesh now and touching the -spine. It would destroy the nerves in a moment. I would be dead--or -even worse, a limp cripple, a rag doll. - -The smell of roasted flesh and hair was a thick, choking, sickening -fog of decay. I couldn't breathe. There was blackness, swirling and -concentric, closing in. - -I think one of them kicked me in the groin before I lost consciousness. - -I couldn't be sure. I couldn't be sure of anything. - - * * * * * - -Coming out. Sound before sight and I heard the low voices. My eyes were -already open. Nebulous shapes, now sharpening. - -I was in a small room with gleaming metal walls and I was on my back on -a sort of table. Three men were in the room with me, standing over me. -Apollo ... the bull-necked man ... the man with the nose like a crane. - -Apollo was smiling. Pour water over that smile and immediately a film -of ice would form. - -"A spy," said Apollo, looking into my open eyes. "Another damn spy." - -I shook my head. Ridiculous, but that's what I did. The movement pulled -at the wound in the back of my neck and sharp pain, starting there, -shot through my whole body. I grimaced and groaned. - -Apollo laughed, then suddenly brought his club hard across my face. My -cheekbone seemed to make a crunching sound. - -"A spy, a damned spy," said Apollo. - -"We got a confession for you to sign," said the Crane. - -Apollo said, "Shut up. Not yet. We got to interview him first." - -"Look," I said, trying to lift my head, trying to rise upon my elbows, -"call your chief. Call anybody like that. I can explain this whole -thing. It's a long story--" - - * * * * * - -He hit me again across the other cheekbone. - -Shall I describe the next timeless endless hour? All the details? I -don't remember all of them, of course, just the moments of sharpest -pain that lifted me from the daze. Just the sound of my own screaming -at times, and the helpless dryness of my own throat, and the sounds -that kept coming from it even when the vocal cords were numb. - -Apollo and his pals had fun. - -There were the electric clubs. They become so hot at the tip that they -will burn through an inch of pine in a couple of seconds. They go even -quicker through flesh. After a while the smoke of my own burning flesh -was thick in the room, and we all choked a little on it. - -They had more fun with their fists, though. They didn't burn me in the -worst places. They saved them for their fists and hands. - -After a while I couldn't scream. Only a hoarse, helpless, retching -sound came out whenever I opened my mouth. - -Did I hear their voices then? I couldn't be sure whether I heard them -speak, or whether I dreamed that they spoke. - -"He can't feel it any more now." That was Apollo's voice. - -"Wake him up again," said the Crane. "Give him a shot." - -"Oh, hell, I'm hungry," said Apollo. - -"All right," said the Crane, "let's go get something to eat. We can -always come back again." - -Blackness, sweet blackness, and the sense of floating among the stars. -Nothingness. It was exquisite now ... even the touch of agony that -still seeped through was exquisite. - -How much of this, I don't know. - -I heard a voice again, and at first I thought my precious blackness was -leaving me. I struggled to keep it. I grasped out, clutching with my -mind. - -"_Don't give up ... we are coming...._" - -It was _her_ voice. The low, seductive voice of my dreams. But I didn't -want to hear it now; this was the last thing I wanted to hear. This -voice had brought me here, and I never wanted to hear it again. - -"_No matter what they say ... no matter what they offer you or tell -you ... don't give up._" - -I fought it off. I drove it away by sheer mind-power. Either that or -it stopped of itself. I didn't know and didn't care; all I wanted was -peace and blackness again if I could find it. - -And then, after a while, I was awake, truly awake, and I knew this -because I ached and burned all over. I could scarcely move. I lay on -the tablelike thing and stared at the gleaming metal ceiling, not -really seeing it. - -"How do you feel?" said somebody. - - * * * * * - -I turned my head. The somebody was sitting beside me. He was a man of -about fifty, thick-set and gray-haired with skin that looked like fine -porcelain. His eyes were blue and they seemed able, intelligent. He was -not exactly smiling, but his expression was pleasant. Poised--that was -the word. Here was a man who would quietly control things wherever he -would go. - -I said, "Lousy. And you?" - -Ghost of a smile. "Sorry you had to go through it. We pick the Deacons -because they're sadistically inclined. That makes for efficiency in the -long run. Some people suffer, of course, but it's for the common good." - -I didn't say anything. If I had, it would have been insulting, -unreasonable, blasphemous, obscene and treasonable. So I didn't say -anything. I just kept staring at him. - -He continued to smile. "I'm N-J-K-F one seven seven three four nine, -Chief of the Office of Psychological Adjustment. I'm usually simply -Chief. I want you to consider me your friend--within the limits of -State good, that is." - -I still didn't say anything. - -"Yours is quite a case, and of course I understand it. I think I had -a quick insight into it the moment I spotted the arrest report on -you. You're really lucky I happened to go through the arrest reports -a little while ago, and got to you before the three Deacons who -interviewed you returned. They were going to interview you some more." - -"Yes. I'm very lucky." My voice was flat, lifeless. - -He leaned back easily in the chair. For all that he was thick-set, he -was graceful. He was handsome. His head, and deep, pleasant voice, and -the cut of his porcelain features all were handsome. Trust in me, -said this handsomeness, I am a father to all men. - -"Naturally, we want to excuse your actions, and all the infractions -you have committed in your rather desperate struggle for escape from -your situation. Of course we'll have to re-evaluate your Emotional -Adjustment Category. It must be very low by now. And I think I'll be -able to assign a new name to you, and have it justify." - -Funny, here was the thing I'd sought and fought for, and now I had it, -and this was the end of the long fight, and I didn't feel triumphant at -all. I didn't even feel pleased. Funny. - -The chief said, "You can undoubtedly find a post suitable to a lower -E.A.C. You can work your way up again. At least you'll be on productive -status and have all the privileges that go with it." - -"Yes," I said. "Yes, I suppose so." - -"So there's really nothing to worry about now, is there?" - -"No, I suppose not." - -"There's just one little thing I'd like to go into before I take the -steps necessary to get you on your feet again." Even his magnificent -poise couldn't conceal the feather touch of slyness then. - -"One little thing?" I asked. - - * * * * * - -The pain was with me again. My body wasn't flesh; it was all raw, -clinging pain. - -"We'll have to know who started you on your little quest. Who -influenced you to try to have your name changed." - -I said, "I don't understand what you're talking about." - -He looked patient, smilingly patient. "It's rather obvious, you know. -You wouldn't have acted as you did purely on your own impulses. I know -that, because I cybed for your master file after I saw the report -of arrest. Up until two days ago, your actions have always been -satisfactorily conformal. A man doesn't change overnight like that -without some sort of external influence." - -"But there wasn't any," I protested. "I mean, nobody told me to do -anything. Nobody real." - -He chuckled. "Come now, you don't expect me to believe that, do you? -After all, I deal with cases like this quite often. You're not the -only one who has tried to upset the efficiency of the State. There's -a pattern in these things, my friend. Almost invariably we find that -a deliberate influence has gone to work on our infractor. There's a -dangerous, organized underground movement that spends its time bringing -these things about. One of its members unquestionably contacted you, -suggested that you take the steps you have taken. Now, then, who was -it?" - -"Nobody." I looked blank because I felt blank. - -The Chief sighed. "You've changed more than I thought. Probably you're -emotionally angry with the State now, after that little interview -with the Deacons. That's understandable. But you'll have to come back -to your senses. Let's put it this way, old man. _If I don't get this -information from you right now, the Deacons will._" - -"Listen," I said, "what I'm telling you is the truth. There was nobody -who told me to do anything. There was--well, there was a kind of voice -that used to come into my dreams. A woman's voice. It suggested, in my -dreams, that I go ahead and try to get my name changed. That's all." - -He wasn't smiling any more. "Do you really expect me to believe that?" - -"It's the truth, I tell you. It's the truth!" - -"Perhaps whoever influenced you did it subtly. Perhaps you never even -realized it. Think back now. Who helped you? Who departed from standard -and gave you any kind of aid?" - -Realization came like a cold wash. There had been help. Lara. She had -gone out of her way back there in N. & I. She had been warm and real -and she had dropped the mask of efficiency. Could it have been with a -purpose? No matter. Guilty or innocent, if I mentioned her name, she -would be interviewed. I didn't want that to happen to Lara. I shook my -head and said, "No one helped me. I did it all myself. You've got to -believe that." - -"I don't," said the Chief, and got up. He looked at me for just a -moment before he turned away. He said, "The boys will be able to have -their fun, after all. I suppose it's just as well. It keeps their -morale up to be able to interview somebody once in a while." - -"No! You can't! You can't send them in here again!" I shouted, without -meaning to. I struggled to rise and found that I was strapped to the -table. "No! No!" - -He was standing at the doorway to the room. He held a key-box -oscillator in his hand and I knew that a force screen held me in the -cubicle here, and that without a key-box I could beat my head forever -against that invisible barrier and never pass through that doorway. He -said, "I'll give you one hour to decide. I'll be back. I'll ask you if -you're ready to talk. If you aren't--well, you'll talk to the Deacons -instead of me." - -The key-box hummed and he walked through the doorway and turned and -disappeared. - -I stared after him and fought back my sudden nausea. - - -V - -How long, then, lying there before a key-box hummed again? I didn't -know. My time sense had been dulled. Even the pain was dull now; it was -something that had always existed. - -I looked at the shining ceiling. - -The glowlights began to dim and I supposed that since my arrest in the -park another day had passed. - -Most of all, I wondered. Something had happened to me, something that -I could almost feel as a physical change, but I didn't know quite what -it was. I knew its results. I knew that I was no longer standard, no -longer conformal, no longer well-behaved and moral and an efficient, -useful citizen of the State. I hated the State. I hated all States. I -hate all efficiency and common sense and hate. - -It suddenly came to me that I didn't care whether I was in Southem or -Northem, or which of them ruled the world. - -I lay there. - -And presently a key-box hummed and I didn't even look that way. The -stink of my own burning flesh still clung to my nostrils, the dull pain -was still with me, but I didn't care. It was too much. When horror -becomes too great, it stops being horror. The mind is smart. It doesn't -believe; it doesn't register. The curve of sensation flattens out, -stops, almost. - -When such horror looms, you go on doing whatever you are doing. - -I was lying there, so I went on lying there. - -"Don't speak," whispered a voice. "Don't ask questions." - -Something fumbled at the straps. I turned my head, and two people were -in the room. They were thin, and their eyes were overlarge and they -were naked and covered with bruises. The fugitives of the park last -night! - -"What are you doing here?" - -Finger to the lips. That was the man. He was taking the straps from my -legs. The woman was releasing my arms and shoulders. - -"But--" - -"Sh!" That was the woman. - -In a moment they had me free. I started, confidently, to rise, and the -pain streaked through me like a powder rocket. They helped me. I stood -there, amazed that I could stand. They helped me go forward. I took -several dizzy steps, and after that it wasn't as bad. We moved through -the doorway; there was no force screen. The man held the key-box. He -pressed it as we moved away, to bring the force screen into place once -more. - -I said, "Where are we--?" - -I was shushed again. We went on through the corridors. Dead oyster -white corridors. I walked as through a sea of marshmallow. Time sense -was gone again and we were pushing on and on and there was no end in -sight and we had already forgotten the beginning. - -We took an automatic shaft to another level and walked more corridors. - - * * * * * - -Once we passed an opening and tunnelcars filled with people roared -past. I had a flash glimpse of them. They sat there staring straight -ahead, wearing the efficient expressions of good workers. State corpses. - -Suddenly we emerged into the dark. It was the dark of night, but after -the tunnels it was practically sunrise. The air was clean--no, it was -not actually as clean as the conditioned air below. It was more than -clean. It was _alive_. - -We were on the edge of a great concrete paved area. About a hundred -yards ahead, a massive, shining, fat needle rose into the air, and -squatted there against the stars. It was a spaceship in its launching -cradle. There were low buildings near it, a few floodlights, and people -standing around. It took a moment to realize that the men walking up -and down and along the groups of people, the men with rifles on their -shoulders, were guards. - -"Luck, now, that's all we need. A little luck," said the thin man -beside me. It was the first time I had heard his voice. It was a low -voice; he spoke with emotion. It was not approved standard. - -The woman moved beside him and put her hand upon his arm. - -I said, "May I talk now?" - -He turned to me, smiling. The smile had something of that sadness I had -first noticed when he sat a prisoner in the jetcopter. "You want an -explanation, don't you? Of course you do. But I'm afraid I can't tell -you very much, except that we were sent to get you." - -"Sent? By whom? How did you have a key-box? And--" - -He laughed. "Wait, one question at a time. I was a force screen -technician before--before we were arrested. Cells are the same -everywhere. I know how to short the screens out from the inside; it's -troublesome, but it can be done. That's how we escaped the first -time. Then they discovered we were gone, chased us, and _you_ gave -us our second chance. We came here to the rendezvous. There were six -here, including our elected leader. When we told the leader what had -happened, she arranged for us to return, find you, and help you escape. -It wasn't any problem to lift a key-box from the rack where they're -usually kept." - - * * * * * - -I felt as though I had been put upon the end of a huge oscillating -spring. I said, "The leader? She?" - -"You'll meet her," he said. "After blastoff you'll meet her. Right now -our problem is to slip in among those prisoners without being seen." - -"Among the _prisoners_?" - -"Haven't time to explain more. You'll have to trust us. Unless you want -to stay here and have the Deacons hunt you till they find you." - -He was right: wherever I was going, I had to go. I couldn't go back -now. Ever. I said, "I trust you. Let's go." - -Slipping in wasn't really difficult. There were only one or two guards -for each group of prisoners, and they were looking for someone to -escape, not join their flock. Some of the prisoners were dressed, some -naked. Some looked bruised and beaten; some did not. It all depended on -whether they had been questioned. They all looked dull-eyed, resigned. -They paid remarkably little attention as we moved in among them, and -stood there. - - * * * * * - -The guards began to call out orders presently and the groups shuffled -forward, and then single lines moved up the ramp and into the -spaceship. The thin man and his woman were still with me. "They don't -bother to count," he whispered, "so we won't be noticed." - -I wanted to ask him other questions, but we were divided into groups -and they weren't in mine. - -Minutes later I found myself in the vast hull, sitting on one of the -tiers that hold the seats vertical when the ship is tail-based for -blastoff. It was very dim here and I couldn't readily make out the -faces of the people on the same tier with me. - -A loudspeaker came to life; a deep, impersonal voice. "Fasten your -webbings carefully!" - -I did that and heard the rustling sounds about me as the others did it, -too. - -"Stand by for blastoff!" - -There was a dead pause, then a sudden low throbbing roar and the -feeling of life in the floor plates and the bulkheads. I felt the -slightest weight of pressure against the seat. The seat began to tilt -slightly. - -Suddenly a soft voice on my left spoke: "_We're on our way. They can't -stop us now, can they?_" - -It was the same low, provocative woman's voice that I had heard in my -dreams! - -I whirled my head. I could see only the shape of flowing hair, no -features. "Who are you?" - -She laughed. "No wonder you don't recognize me. The natural voice is -different than approved standard, isn't it? Listen. Do you remember -this?" The head cocked to one side and a crisp, formal voice came out. -"Information you desire is in Bank 29." - -"Lara!" I said. I pushed toward her, but the webbing held me back. - -"Yes. It's I. And we're together now and we'll have a long, long time -to find out about each other. It's ten weeks to Mars." - - * * * * * - -I ran my hand over my forehead. "I don't get it. I don't get any of it. -Your voice--I mean your real voice, not the standard one--I dreamed -about it, and--" - -"I know." I could see her nod. "It wasn't a dream, though. I _was_ -talking to you. Each time. That was the way we planned it from the -beginning." - -"Talking to me? But--but _how_? Through the sleep-learner?" - -"No, we'd never have been able to arrange that. It was through your -identity tag, which would almost always be in contact with your skin -when you slept. It has a microscopic electrical circuit, both between -its metal halves and painted on its surface. The same principle as the -sleep-learner, tactile induction, and, of course, a highly selective -one-channel receiver. All I needed to do was put my transmitter on that -same frequency." - -I shook my head. "I follow, I guess, but I'm still baffled. Why all -this? When did--" - -"Wait for me to finish," she said. "We've been organized and -underground, just as the Deacons suspect, for some time. One of our -members worked on the identity tags and, when renumbering came about, -it was a perfect opportunity to plant the receivers. We picked our -people carefully. We picked doctors and hydroponic experts and chemists -and rocket pilots--and we picked you because of your knowledge of space -drive theory. Someday we'll go on to the stars; someday you'll help us -do that. Anyway, all these people we have picked--or most of them--are -joining us on Mars. There's where mankind will begin again while -Northem and Southem sit upon earth and glare at each other across the -equator and wait for war." - -"But Mars--there's an equator there, too." - -She laughed. "Northem and Southem prisoners there mingle all the time. -There aren't enough guards to notice it, or stop it if they did notice -it. There have even been hundreds of intermarriages." - -"Marriages? You mean like the pre-atomics?" - -"Exactly. But we'll get to that later. We needed you for our colony, -only it wasn't likely that you'd infract all by yourself. You were -too standard, too adjusted. We had to give you something to shake you -out of it, to make you realize that the security of the State was not -security, but slavery. And so one of our members in the renumbering -bureau arranged for you to have that four letter word of yours for -a name. One thing led to another, then, not always exactly as we'd -planned it, but always in the same general direction. Our whole plan -nearly failed when the Deacons nabbed you in the park. Fortunately, -I'd come along to stow away on this trip, and I sent those others back -after you." - -"But what if I'd actually managed to get my name changed?" - - * * * * * - -The ship was swaying now, balanced on its rocket trail. The -acceleration was increasing. The seat was swinging back. The roar was -becoming louder. - -"It was unlikely enough to take a chance on it. We felt at the very -least you'd be kept on N/P status and then we could work on you some -more until you infracted, and got sent to Marscol as a nonconform. -Funny, that seems a terrible fate to most people. Actually, it's the -only escape. From what I hear of Mars we'll like it there." - -I was recovering a little now and I dared to say, "If you're there, -too, I'll like it. I know that." - -"Oh, you'll like other things. You'll like everything. And on Mars -they'll call you by your present name if you wish, and no one will be -at all shocked by it." There was a slight pause and then she said, "In -fact, it's a very nice name. I--I wouldn't mind having it myself." - -"Is that what the pre-atomics called a proposal?" - -She laughed. "I'm not sure. But at least we have ten weeks to talk it -over--" - -And then the acceleration pressed hard and the gray curtain began to -come, and I knew that when it was lifted we would be on our way through -space. I thought in that moment of the name that had brought all this -about--the unspeakable four letter word that no conformist would ever -dare voice, or even think of; the word, the dangerous word inimical to -all that the warring, efficient State meant and stood for. - -The word, I realized, that eventually would destroy all that. - -I dared to say it now. I spelled it out first, and then I pronounced -it. Just loud enough for Lara to hear above the growing roar. -"L-O-V-E," I said. "Love." - -I heard Lara repeat it before the momentary blackout came. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I, the Unspeakable, by Walt Sheldon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I, THE UNSPEAKABLE *** - -***** This file should be named 51210.txt or 51210.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/1/51210/ - -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 public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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