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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..7947172 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51713 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51713) diff --git a/old/51713-h.zip b/old/51713-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index da51788..0000000 --- a/old/51713-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51713-h/51713-h.htm b/old/51713-h/51713-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 87df02c..0000000 --- a/old/51713-h/51713-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1165 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Metamorphosis, by Charles V. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. 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: Metamorphosis - -Author: Charles V. de Vet - -Release Date: April 9, 2016 [EBook #51713] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK METAMORPHOSIS *** - - - - -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="397" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>METAMORPHOSIS</h1> - -<p>By Charles V. de Vet</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Magazine December 1960.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="600" height="269" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>The man I searched for could be anybody at all.<br /> -If I didn't find him, there'd be nobody at all.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>One more city. The pattern went on. One more city to search for a man I -did not know, whose face I would not recognize. I had no copy of either -his fingerprints or encephalograph, or any other clue to his identity.</p> - -<p>Yet he had to be found.</p> - -<p>At one time he had been my best friend. His name was Howard Zealley -then. He wouldn't be using the same name now.</p> - -<p>And the "bug" in his brain would by this time have made him a stranger.</p> - -<p>There was only one way the job could be done: I had to make -contact—even though I might not be aware of it at the time—reveal who -I was, and hope he'd come out after me.</p> - -<p>I rented a room in a cheap hotel. But not so cheap that it wouldn't -have a grid connection with information service.</p> - -<p>I wrote my name big on the register: MAX CALOF. There was always the -chance that he would see it. He would remember the name.</p> - -<p>The room was small, a standard "living-in" cubicle. Which was all -right. I didn't intend to sleep here. I hadn't slept in nine years -now—a year before the chase began. I kicked off my saddle shoes and -walked on stockinged feet to the vid coin slot and dropped in a half -dollar.</p> - -<p>The screen flickered once and the face of a beautiful, smiling woman -came into focus. "May I help you, sir?" she asked in a pleasant, very -friendly voice.</p> - -<p>I realized that the woman was not actually speaking, as she appeared -to be doing. She was merely a woman image, with her voice and facial -expressions synchronized in some way with the word impulses coming from -information central.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I stretched out on the bed, folding the pillow under my head to have an -unobstructed view of the screen. "Give me the names of the city's two -hundred most prominent male citizens," I said.</p> - -<p>There was no sign of surprise on the woman face, but I got the usual -expressive long pause from central. The request was unusual. Central -relays always had trouble with the proper definition of "prominent."</p> - -<p>"Any particular category?" the woman image finally asked.</p> - -<p>"All categories," I answered.</p> - -<p>Another pause. Even a mechanical brain would take a bit of time to -assemble that information, but get it I would.</p> - -<p>After a while the woman began. "Edward Anderson. Russell Baker. Joseph -Dillon. Francis...." As her gently modulated voice went on, I closed my -eyes, keeping my mind blank, letting each name pass without resistance -through my consciousness. Sometimes a hunch came that way. There was no -need to make a written list. I had total recall.</p> - -<p>I became aware that I had opened my shirt collar and that I was -perspiring. I hadn't noticed how hot the day was or that the room had -no air conditioning. I took a minute to concentrate. The perspiration -dried and my body adjusted itself to the room's temperature and -humidity. When I was comfortable again, I returned my attention to the -woman's voice.</p> - -<p>At the end of the reading, no name had stayed with me. I opened my -eyes. "Eliminate all except those within the age range of twenty to -forty," I said. Zealley would be thirty-seven by now—but probably -appear younger. "Got that?"</p> - -<p>"Yes sir."</p> - -<p>"How many left?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Sixty-four."</p> - -<p>It was always a temptation to cut the list further. I was weary of the -seemingly endless repetition of the same routine and the frustrating -lack of any results. Eight years is a long time to search for a man. -Yet I could not afford to be careless. I was gambling everything on my -having figured out the way Zealley's mind operated, how he would act, -where he would hide. When the woman finished speaking, I walked to the -vid and switched it off.</p> - -<p>I noted by the wall clock that it was almost noon. I hadn't had -breakfast yet. In the back of my mind, as I ordered a meal, was the -certainty that someday this appetite too would grow sated and dull. -There were so few satisfactions left....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The first name on my list was Edward Anderson. The city's mayor. It -took me two hours to get into his office, and two minutes to be on -my way out again. I had asked my questions and met the usual blank -response.</p> - -<p>On the street I spent another hour strolling through the shopping -district. No shadower picked me up.</p> - -<p>Which pretty well eliminated Anderson—or anyone in close contact with -him.</p> - -<p>Second name, Russell Baker. Industrialist. Minneapolis Mining & Allied -Products.</p> - -<p>I got as far as his secretary, John Roesler.</p> - -<p>"What can I do for you?" Roesler asked. He was a big-boned, handsome -man, with an air of sleepy indolence. He cleaned and trimmed his -fingernails with a small gold penknife.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to see Mr. Baker," I said.</p> - -<p>"What about?"</p> - -<p>"Confidential business."</p> - -<p>"No one gets in to see a man like Mr. Baker that easy. If they could, -he'd be pestered by every crackpot in town."</p> - -<p>This was as far as I was going to get. I had to make the best of it. -"Will you give him a message then?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Roesler shrugged. "If I think he should have it."</p> - -<p>"I would advise you to deliver it," I said making my tone as impressive -as possible. "If he doesn't get it, you may be out of a job."</p> - -<p>His eyebrows raised slightly.</p> - -<p>"Tell him," I said, "that Max Calof wants to see him," and spelled my -last name for him.</p> - -<p>"And what should I say you want to see him about?" I had caught a -slight break in Roesler's composure.</p> - -<p>"About a mutual friend—Howard Zealley," I replied. "I think he'll be -interested."</p> - -<p>Roesler hid a yawn behind a well-manicured hand. "We'll see," he said, -and I went back out.</p> - -<p>Twice within ten minutes I observed the same pale-faced youth trailing -me, and my pulse gave a great racing bound. This could be it.</p> - -<p>I stopped and studied the men's hats in a shop window. From the side -of my eye I saw the youth stop also. He leaned against a traffic light -stanchion and kicked idly at a scrap of paper on the sidewalk.</p> - -<p>I wandered through a department store, stopping to purchase a -toothbrush and a handkerchief, and he followed, keeping always a -discreet distance behind. My last doubt was removed. I returned to my -hotel. With luck, the hunter would now become the hunted.</p> - -<p>In my room I pulled a grip from under the bed and took out a -rubber-handled screwdriver and a pair of pliers, a pocket knife, -several lengths of copper wire, and a small instrument in a black case -about the size of my fist. Climbing on a straight-back chair, I removed -the frosted globe from the room's center light. I bared the wires, -carefully spliced on two pieces of wire, connected the black box, and -replaced the globe.</p> - -<p>I had a little more trouble with the electrical clock's wiring, but at -the end I was satisfied. The time was two-fifteen. I made my setting -for three o'clock. Zealley should be here before then. If not, I could -always set the timing back.</p> - -<p>There was nothing to do now except wait.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Nearly a half hour passed from the time I finished my preparations, and -I was beginning to think Zealley would be late, when the door of my -compartment was kicked savagely open.</p> - -<p>The man who followed the kick was lean and dark, with wavy brown hair -combed meticulously into place. A bent nose dispelled any illusion of -softness.</p> - -<p>I was disappointed. If this was Zealley, it was not at all the way -I had expected him to look. I had thought he would be more polished -perhaps, more intelligent, with more of the outward signs of success.</p> - -<p>This weighing I did with a fleeting glance, and passed to the two -men who followed my first visitor: Roesler and the pale-faced youth. -Roesler was wearing a yellow hat.</p> - -<p>I swung my legs over the side of the bed where I had been lying and sat -up. "Come in," I said.</p> - -<p>The sarcasm was not wasted on Roesler. He kept his gaze on me, but -spoke to the two men with him. "Stay by the door, George," he ordered -the boy. "You, Steve," he addressed the lean man, "get on the other -side of him. Stay close." He let himself ease into the lounge chair -behind him.</p> - -<p>I decided to stir things up a bit. "I see you brought a boy," I said, -nodding at the one by the door. "This might turn out to be a man's job."</p> - -<p>Roesler glanced aside at the youth, whose lips pulled away from his -teeth and eyes filled with quick hate. He pulled a switch-blade knife -from his pocket and snapped it open.</p> - -<p>I found myself making a swift reappraisal. The lad was not the simple -hood type I had first judged him to be. There was a flat look about the -wide whites of his eyes that warned of something apart from courage.</p> - -<p>"Not yet, George," Roesler said, and his voice, though almost gentle, -stopped the boy before he took a step.</p> - -<p>Roesler pulled his penknife from a coat pocket and began trimming his -nails.</p> - -<p>"Someday you're going to run out of fingernails," I said.</p> - -<p>Roesler laughed soundlessly, amused.</p> - -<p>I glanced unobtrusively at the clock. Ten minutes to three. Time passed -slowly in a situation like this.</p> - -<p>Roesler regarded me speculatively. "You don't seem very nervous," he -said.</p> - -<p>"Should I be?"</p> - -<p>"I would think so," he said. "If I were in your position, I think I'd -be nervous."</p> - -<p>"Would you?"</p> - -<p>"Take off your clothes," he said, with no change of tone.</p> - -<p>I took in a long breath and began opening my shirt. Another glance at -the clock told me I needed at least eight more minutes. I had to stall.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Roesler made no attempt to hurry me. He was a man certain of his -control of the situation.</p> - -<p>I kicked off my shorts, the last of my clothes, and for the first -time felt ill at ease. Standing stripped to the raw before these men -put me at a mental disadvantage. I feared them only to the point of -discretion, but I had lost a bit of my poise. I sat back on the edge of -the bed and lit a cigarette, doing my best to appear unconcerned.</p> - -<p>Roesler turned to the dark man. "The shade, Steve," he directed. "Pull -it down a minute."</p> - -<p>Steve did as he was told.</p> - -<p>The fact that my skin glowed with a faint phosphorescent sheen in the -semidarkness was no surprise to me.</p> - -<p>Roesler leaned forward and the penknife, which he had set on one knee, -slipped off. Without attention he caught it before it touched the floor.</p> - -<p>Which confirmed my original suspicion. No one had reflexes that -fast—except Zealley—and myself. I had estimated him correctly -then. He had been too clever to expose himself to any searcher; he -had disdained the prestige he might have acquired, staying in the -background, but in a position where he could observe any pursuer if and -when he appeared.</p> - -<p>Roesler-Zealley had noted the brief play of understanding on my face -and he nodded. "I had to be certain, Max," he said. "You've changed -too, you know."</p> - -<p>Which was true. The mites in our veins had altered us both considerably -through the years. We had developed some small empathy with them and -they often performed as we wished. It was not that they could read -our thoughts. Their activities were probably only reactions to our -emotional and glandular functions. Moreover, they acted as often in -ways that suited their own designs, changing our body structures, and -regulating our metabolisms, seemingly at random.</p> - -<p>"What did you want with me, Max?" Zealley asked, still being very -pleasant. "Did you come to join me in conquering the world?"</p> - -<p>He was being facetious and I did not answer him. He knew why I was here.</p> - -<p>Overhead a faint click came from the light globe, a sound that probably -only I noticed, and I knew that my alarm had gone off. I judged it -would take the police only a few minutes to reach here.</p> - -<p>"Or are you going to pretend that the medics have found a way to boil -the bugs out of us?" Zealley asked. Did I detect a concealed pleading -for just that assurance?</p> - -<p>I shook my head. "No, they haven't found any way, Howard," I -obliterated the hope.</p> - -<p>"Good old Max." Bitterness crept into his voice. "Faithful, selfless -old Max. Going to save the world. Going to save the whole of humanity," -he amended expansively.</p> - -<p>He hadn't changed too much. Sarcasm had always come natural with him, -which made it no more likable.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He might have said dull, stupid, cloddish old Max. The words would have -better matched the tone of his voice. At that, he might be right. The -authorities back on our home world of New Nebraska had said pretty much -the same thing, only more diplomatically.</p> - -<p>"You and Zealley are different," I'd been told. "That was one of -the reasons we made you a team, originally. Zealley is clever and -imaginative, but basically an egotist. A to-hell-with-the-other-fellow -character. Fortunately, you're not like him. You're a man who accepts -his responsibilities, a man with a strong sense of duty. We know we can -trust you." Whether it was actually trust or only that they had little -choice, I had not let myself decide.</p> - -<p>"We had such high hopes." Zealley was reminiscing, speaking more to -himself than to me.</p> - -<p>We had. We'd been a two-man survey crew, mapping out new territory -for the future expansion of the human race. On a world listed only as -TR768-L-14 on the star maps, we had run into disaster. We found the -planet unfit for human habitation, but not before we'd been bitten -several times by things we never did see.</p> - -<p>No infection had resulted and we thought little about it, until we were -a good part of the way home. Gradually then we noticed a quickening -of our sensory processes, a well-being of body too pronounced to be -normal. During the next several weeks of flight, Zealley wrote a -historical novel that I was certain would turn out to be a classic. -I found myself mastering, without difficulty, higher math, which had -always been beyond me before.</p> - -<p>At the end of the third month we stopped needing sleep. During the days -and nights that followed we conversed brilliantly on subjects that -had not interested us before, and the depth of which we couldn't have -fathomed if they had interested us. We were at a loss to explain the -reason for the change, though we knew it tied in somehow with our stay -on TR768-L-14, and probably with the things that had bitten us. The -cause was of secondary importance; the marvel of the reality was what -intrigued us. We looked forward with poorly restrained excitement to -displaying our new mental and physical dexterity.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Space Bureau authorities were every bit as impressed as we had -anticipated. The medics readily found that we had been infested by a -germ, but by a benevolent germ, a true symbiote. That discovery was -followed by months of tests and examinations.</p> - -<p>Between sessions with our own medics and laboratory men and various -visiting specialists, we amused ourselves by showing our new abilities. -At least a dozen times a day I had to put someone down in an arm -wrestle. Even when they devised a way to pit two against me at a time, -I had little difficulty besting them.</p> - -<p>Zealley's displays tended toward the more flamboyant. One of the tricks -he delighted in was taking a razor blade, and, while his audience -watched with repelled fascination, cut a long gash in his forearm. For -an instant the blood would ebb out, then quickly clot and cease to -flow. The next day he would show them the arm, where a thin red line at -the most would remain to mark where the wound had been.</p> - -<p>Apparently Zealley's reminiscing had kept pace with my own. "It seems -such a shame, doesn't it, Max?" he asked. He was genuinely sad.</p> - -<p>So was I.</p> - -<p>Test results and theories developed fast in those early days. The -findings showed that the symbiotes repaired damage and faults in our -systems and protected us against disease. It was even hazarded that -they would prolong our lives indefinitely.</p> - -<p>Yet we were warned against complacency. The bug—we always spoke of it -in the singular, even though we knew the original mites had spawned in -our blood streams—could not act quickly enough to save our lives in -the event of major damage to essential organs or the brain. Also, we -could drown. Or we could die in a fall from a great height. Or starve -to death.</p> - -<p>The first intimation we had that all was not well had started as -a rumor. Two of the staff biochemists had been experimenting with -transplants of the bugs in fruit flies. They had turned up something -sensational.</p> - -<p>Zealley was not present when I received the disastrous news. At the end -of what would normally be a twenty- or thirty-year cycle—the chemists -were not able to estimate it any closer—the symbiotes evolved into -tiny winged insects.</p> - -<p>At that stage they acquired size and flying strength by devouring the -tissues of their hosts.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="600" height="292" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>In twenty or thirty years, then, our benign cohabitants would kill -us—and spread out by the millions to infest other available animal -life. Unless they were destroyed, not only would Zealley and I die, -but all humanity on all the worlds would face the prospect of becoming -infested.</p> - -<p>Zealley must have surmised what was coming. He had disappeared a week -earlier. Before he left, I had noticed considerable change in our body -and facial features. He would very soon be impossible to identify.</p> - -<p>The only lead the authorities ever got on him was that he had fled to -Earth. At that particular time Earth and New Nebraska were involved in -one of the more serious interworld bickerings. Citizens of each were -denied admittance to the other, which was probably the reason Zealley -had chosen Earth as a haven.</p> - -<p>New Nebraska's authorities called me in and briefed me on what I was -to do. They were able to smuggle me to Earth with forged papers that -identified me as a citizen of another planet.</p> - -<p>Zealley had to be found—and I was their one hope.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"You have some interest in that clock?" Zealley's words jarred me out -of my retrospection. Silently I cursed myself for letting my thoughts -and eyes stray. I was dismayed, too, to find that only a few minutes -had passed since I'd last looked. Even so, the police were taking -longer than I had calculated.</p> - -<p>Zealley abandoned all pretense of joviality. "Now, George," he said to -the pale-faced youth, who still stood by the door with his knife in his -hand.</p> - -<p>The boy started toward me and I tensed, shifting my feet to face him. -Something crashed against my right temple and only then did I remember -Steve, the man behind me.</p> - -<p>The force of the blow knocked me sideways but not unconscious. I -started to turn and a second glancing blow split the skin across my -forehead. I slid off the bed on the side away from him.</p> - -<p>I retained just enough control of my faculties to get to my feet as the -youth reached me and to grab him in a bear hug, but not fast enough to -keep the long blade of his knife from ripping into my stomach.</p> - -<p>The symbiote, though able to repair damage, was not able to block pain. -The bite of the knife clenched my muscles in a spasm of agony, and -dimly I heard the youth give a grunt of distress as my arms squeezed -and bent him back at the waist.</p> - -<p>Something landed on my foot—his knife. With blackness closing in, my -arms lost their strength and I slid down his body.</p> - -<p>I blanked out, but only for an instant. The kid had fallen with me and -my hands clutched his ankles as I fought to stay conscious. I stood up, -still holding his ankles. Putting everything I had into the effort, -I swung him around and sent him crashing into Steve, who was just -rounding the foot of the bed. They went down together.</p> - -<p>I gasped in air, clutching the gash in my stomach with hands that were -sticky and wet with blood. I turned toward Zealley. He was still -seated in his chair, still smiling. One hand, resting negligently in -his lap, held a snub-nosed pistol.</p> - -<p>He could have killed me any time before this, but he had wanted the fun -of watching me fight for my life. He opened his mouth to say something -but closed it abruptly as someone pounded at the door.</p> - -<p>"Come in!" I shouted through the froth in my mouth.</p> - -<p>"Damn you," Zealley said softly. He wiped the pistol on his trousers -and slid it across the floor away from him.</p> - -<p>The door burst inward.</p> - -<p>"These men tried to kill me," I told the two police officers.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Zealley's bland features simulated surprise. "I?" he asked. "I heard -noise in here as I was passing in the hall. I came in to see what the -trouble was."</p> - -<p>"He's lying," I said as the policemen turned inquiringly toward me. -"He's with them."</p> - -<p>Zealley shook his head sadly. "He must be delirious—" he began, but -the evidence was all on my side.</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" one of the officers said, grabbing him by the shirt front -and jerking him to his feet.</p> - -<p>I had started dressing immediately. I wanted to hide the wound in my -stomach. It burned, but I kept my face blank.</p> - -<p>Zealley was silent now. If I had been just superficially wounded, -his bluff would have worked—I'd have healed right there and then. I -hadn't, so he had to wait for developments. I hoped I could give him -some.</p> - -<p>While one of the officers worked to revive the youth—the thug named -Steve was already on his feet—I went to the bowl in the alcove and -washed the blood off my hands and stomach.</p> - -<p>They had the kid upright when I turned around: "Are you hurt bad?" the -policeman holding Zealley asked me.</p> - -<p>"Not too bad." I managed to keep my voice steady. "I'll be all right -until you can send an ambulance."</p> - -<p>He stood uncertainly for a moment. "I don't like to leave you alone, -but I can put in a call from our cruiser. The ambulance should get here -within ten minutes."</p> - -<p>"I'll be OK," I said.</p> - -<p>The sound of the closing door was the only way I had to know they were -gone. For the past half minute, my tight grip on the bed headboard -was all that held me erect. Now the starch went out of my body and I -crumpled to the floor.</p> - -<p>This time I did not blank out, but lay twisted and tight, waiting for -the pain to stop—or to kill me.</p> - -<p>A small easing of the torment came and I forced myself to relax. I was -able now to steel my mind against the racking spasms and pull myself to -my feet. I was not at all safe yet; even if I was not mortally wounded, -it would take the symbiote hours to repair the damage.</p> - -<p>I managed to pull on my clothes with numbed, awkward fingers and get -out of the room before the ambulance arrived. I took with me only my -grip. I would still need that.</p> - -<p>There was small chance that the police could hold Zealley. He would -probably be free on bail this same afternoon.</p> - -<p>The odds were against me. I was fighting in Zealley's own back yard, -wounded and entirely alone, while he must have been prepared for this -contingency for years. But I had succeeded in the first part of my -plan. I had found out who he was, and I had put him in a position where -he could not use his superior resources, for a time at least. Now I had -to get to him before he was able to mobilize those resources.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the street, I had a violent attack of cramps in my upper diaphragm, -and I got down on one knee and made a pretense of adjusting a shoe -strap as I fought the torment. Perspiration gathered in clammy globules -all over my body. When the pain left, I rose and pushed grimly on.</p> - -<p>Opposite Minneapolis Mining's main offices, and a quarter of a block -down, I found the type of commercial building I was looking for, and -went in and sought out the building superintendent.</p> - -<p>"Do you have an office for rent on one of the lower floors?" I asked -him. "One that faces the front street?"</p> - -<p>"We have several," he answered with professional courtesy. He thumbed -through a row of cards and pulled out one with a small brown envelope -attached. "Here's a fine office on the sixth floor. It's only one room, -but—"</p> - -<p>"I'll take a look at it," I interrupted him.</p> - -<p>"Of course." He tore open the small envelope and took out a brass key. -"I'll take you up."</p> - -<p>"I'd rather go alone."</p> - -<p>As he hesitated, I took out my billfold and separated a hundred-dollar -bill from two others of its kind and laid it on his desk. "I'll leave -a deposit—in case I should like it," I said, taking the key from his -hand.</p> - -<p>"I suppose it will be all right," he murmured doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"Thank you," I called back over my shoulder. "I may be a while. I want -to look it over carefully." I ignored the fact that he seemed to have -more he wanted to say.</p> - -<p>The office was small, but that made little difference to me. There was -a clear view of the street from the window. That was all I cared about.</p> - -<p>In one corner was a small packing case, left by the former tenant. -I dragged it over by the window and sat down. From my grip I took a -rifle barrel and stock and assembled them, and filled the magazine with -ammunition. I kept part of my attention on the building down the street -while I worked.</p> - -<p>I hoped I had guessed right—that Zealley would get free of the police, -and that he would return to his office.</p> - -<p>The day-shift workers had begun to pour from the Mining building before -a taxi drew up to the curb and a man in a yellow hat alighted.</p> - -<p>Zealley had come.</p> - -<p>He was alone. I aligned the sights of my rifle on his head, waited -until I had a clear shot, and squeezed the trigger.</p> - -<p>The yellow hat sprang upward and Zealley sank from sight among the -hurrying workers.</p> - -<p>The job was done.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Finding a way back to New Nebraska took me a year, for I no longer -fitted my passport picture and description at all.</p> - -<p>"Except for the danger to others," I said when I reported in, "I -wouldn't have bothered coming back."</p> - -<p>"A good thing for you that you did bother to come back here," I was -told.</p> - -<p>The biochemists had gone on with their work through the years I'd -searched for Zealley. They had learned that the symbiotes' life cycle -developed in three distinct stages: five years of propagation, fifteen -years in the dormant aging process, an undetermined number of years in -the final form.</p> - -<p>If the blood of a carrier was replaced any time during the first five -years, the bugs in the residual blood in the body began to propagate -again, delaying the aging process another five years.</p> - -<p>"In other words," I was told, "we can control the symbiote. Mankind can -reap the benefits—with not a single one of the dangers."</p> - -<p>Except poor Zealley, I thought pityingly, but wonderingly. The hogs, -the smart boys who have every angle figured in getting the jump on -everybody else—how is it they never figure the last angle?</p> - -<p>He should have waited instead of grabbing.</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Metamorphosis, by Charles V. de Vet - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK METAMORPHOSIS *** - -***** This file should be named 51713-h.htm or 51713-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/1/51713/ - -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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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: Metamorphosis - -Author: Charles V. de Vet - -Release Date: April 9, 2016 [EBook #51713] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK METAMORPHOSIS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - METAMORPHOSIS - - By Charles V. de Vet - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Magazine December 1960. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - The man I searched for could be anybody at all. - If I didn't find him, there'd be nobody at all. - - -One more city. The pattern went on. One more city to search for a man I -did not know, whose face I would not recognize. I had no copy of either -his fingerprints or encephalograph, or any other clue to his identity. - -Yet he had to be found. - -At one time he had been my best friend. His name was Howard Zealley -then. He wouldn't be using the same name now. - -And the "bug" in his brain would by this time have made him a stranger. - -There was only one way the job could be done: I had to make -contact--even though I might not be aware of it at the time--reveal who -I was, and hope he'd come out after me. - -I rented a room in a cheap hotel. But not so cheap that it wouldn't -have a grid connection with information service. - -I wrote my name big on the register: MAX CALOF. There was always the -chance that he would see it. He would remember the name. - -The room was small, a standard "living-in" cubicle. Which was all -right. I didn't intend to sleep here. I hadn't slept in nine years -now--a year before the chase began. I kicked off my saddle shoes and -walked on stockinged feet to the vid coin slot and dropped in a half -dollar. - -The screen flickered once and the face of a beautiful, smiling woman -came into focus. "May I help you, sir?" she asked in a pleasant, very -friendly voice. - -I realized that the woman was not actually speaking, as she appeared -to be doing. She was merely a woman image, with her voice and facial -expressions synchronized in some way with the word impulses coming from -information central. - - * * * * * - -I stretched out on the bed, folding the pillow under my head to have an -unobstructed view of the screen. "Give me the names of the city's two -hundred most prominent male citizens," I said. - -There was no sign of surprise on the woman face, but I got the usual -expressive long pause from central. The request was unusual. Central -relays always had trouble with the proper definition of "prominent." - -"Any particular category?" the woman image finally asked. - -"All categories," I answered. - -Another pause. Even a mechanical brain would take a bit of time to -assemble that information, but get it I would. - -After a while the woman began. "Edward Anderson. Russell Baker. Joseph -Dillon. Francis...." As her gently modulated voice went on, I closed my -eyes, keeping my mind blank, letting each name pass without resistance -through my consciousness. Sometimes a hunch came that way. There was no -need to make a written list. I had total recall. - -I became aware that I had opened my shirt collar and that I was -perspiring. I hadn't noticed how hot the day was or that the room had -no air conditioning. I took a minute to concentrate. The perspiration -dried and my body adjusted itself to the room's temperature and -humidity. When I was comfortable again, I returned my attention to the -woman's voice. - -At the end of the reading, no name had stayed with me. I opened my -eyes. "Eliminate all except those within the age range of twenty to -forty," I said. Zealley would be thirty-seven by now--but probably -appear younger. "Got that?" - -"Yes sir." - -"How many left?" I asked. - -"Sixty-four." - -It was always a temptation to cut the list further. I was weary of the -seemingly endless repetition of the same routine and the frustrating -lack of any results. Eight years is a long time to search for a man. -Yet I could not afford to be careless. I was gambling everything on my -having figured out the way Zealley's mind operated, how he would act, -where he would hide. When the woman finished speaking, I walked to the -vid and switched it off. - -I noted by the wall clock that it was almost noon. I hadn't had -breakfast yet. In the back of my mind, as I ordered a meal, was the -certainty that someday this appetite too would grow sated and dull. -There were so few satisfactions left.... - - * * * * * - -The first name on my list was Edward Anderson. The city's mayor. It -took me two hours to get into his office, and two minutes to be on -my way out again. I had asked my questions and met the usual blank -response. - -On the street I spent another hour strolling through the shopping -district. No shadower picked me up. - -Which pretty well eliminated Anderson--or anyone in close contact with -him. - -Second name, Russell Baker. Industrialist. Minneapolis Mining & Allied -Products. - -I got as far as his secretary, John Roesler. - -"What can I do for you?" Roesler asked. He was a big-boned, handsome -man, with an air of sleepy indolence. He cleaned and trimmed his -fingernails with a small gold penknife. - -"I'd like to see Mr. Baker," I said. - -"What about?" - -"Confidential business." - -"No one gets in to see a man like Mr. Baker that easy. If they could, -he'd be pestered by every crackpot in town." - -This was as far as I was going to get. I had to make the best of it. -"Will you give him a message then?" I asked. - -Roesler shrugged. "If I think he should have it." - -"I would advise you to deliver it," I said making my tone as impressive -as possible. "If he doesn't get it, you may be out of a job." - -His eyebrows raised slightly. - -"Tell him," I said, "that Max Calof wants to see him," and spelled my -last name for him. - -"And what should I say you want to see him about?" I had caught a -slight break in Roesler's composure. - -"About a mutual friend--Howard Zealley," I replied. "I think he'll be -interested." - -Roesler hid a yawn behind a well-manicured hand. "We'll see," he said, -and I went back out. - -Twice within ten minutes I observed the same pale-faced youth trailing -me, and my pulse gave a great racing bound. This could be it. - -I stopped and studied the men's hats in a shop window. From the side -of my eye I saw the youth stop also. He leaned against a traffic light -stanchion and kicked idly at a scrap of paper on the sidewalk. - -I wandered through a department store, stopping to purchase a -toothbrush and a handkerchief, and he followed, keeping always a -discreet distance behind. My last doubt was removed. I returned to my -hotel. With luck, the hunter would now become the hunted. - -In my room I pulled a grip from under the bed and took out a -rubber-handled screwdriver and a pair of pliers, a pocket knife, -several lengths of copper wire, and a small instrument in a black case -about the size of my fist. Climbing on a straight-back chair, I removed -the frosted globe from the room's center light. I bared the wires, -carefully spliced on two pieces of wire, connected the black box, and -replaced the globe. - -I had a little more trouble with the electrical clock's wiring, but at -the end I was satisfied. The time was two-fifteen. I made my setting -for three o'clock. Zealley should be here before then. If not, I could -always set the timing back. - -There was nothing to do now except wait. - - * * * * * - -Nearly a half hour passed from the time I finished my preparations, and -I was beginning to think Zealley would be late, when the door of my -compartment was kicked savagely open. - -The man who followed the kick was lean and dark, with wavy brown hair -combed meticulously into place. A bent nose dispelled any illusion of -softness. - -I was disappointed. If this was Zealley, it was not at all the way -I had expected him to look. I had thought he would be more polished -perhaps, more intelligent, with more of the outward signs of success. - -This weighing I did with a fleeting glance, and passed to the two -men who followed my first visitor: Roesler and the pale-faced youth. -Roesler was wearing a yellow hat. - -I swung my legs over the side of the bed where I had been lying and sat -up. "Come in," I said. - -The sarcasm was not wasted on Roesler. He kept his gaze on me, but -spoke to the two men with him. "Stay by the door, George," he ordered -the boy. "You, Steve," he addressed the lean man, "get on the other -side of him. Stay close." He let himself ease into the lounge chair -behind him. - -I decided to stir things up a bit. "I see you brought a boy," I said, -nodding at the one by the door. "This might turn out to be a man's job." - -Roesler glanced aside at the youth, whose lips pulled away from his -teeth and eyes filled with quick hate. He pulled a switch-blade knife -from his pocket and snapped it open. - -I found myself making a swift reappraisal. The lad was not the simple -hood type I had first judged him to be. There was a flat look about the -wide whites of his eyes that warned of something apart from courage. - -"Not yet, George," Roesler said, and his voice, though almost gentle, -stopped the boy before he took a step. - -Roesler pulled his penknife from a coat pocket and began trimming his -nails. - -"Someday you're going to run out of fingernails," I said. - -Roesler laughed soundlessly, amused. - -I glanced unobtrusively at the clock. Ten minutes to three. Time passed -slowly in a situation like this. - -Roesler regarded me speculatively. "You don't seem very nervous," he -said. - -"Should I be?" - -"I would think so," he said. "If I were in your position, I think I'd -be nervous." - -"Would you?" - -"Take off your clothes," he said, with no change of tone. - -I took in a long breath and began opening my shirt. Another glance at -the clock told me I needed at least eight more minutes. I had to stall. - - * * * * * - -Roesler made no attempt to hurry me. He was a man certain of his -control of the situation. - -I kicked off my shorts, the last of my clothes, and for the first -time felt ill at ease. Standing stripped to the raw before these men -put me at a mental disadvantage. I feared them only to the point of -discretion, but I had lost a bit of my poise. I sat back on the edge of -the bed and lit a cigarette, doing my best to appear unconcerned. - -Roesler turned to the dark man. "The shade, Steve," he directed. "Pull -it down a minute." - -Steve did as he was told. - -The fact that my skin glowed with a faint phosphorescent sheen in the -semidarkness was no surprise to me. - -Roesler leaned forward and the penknife, which he had set on one knee, -slipped off. Without attention he caught it before it touched the floor. - -Which confirmed my original suspicion. No one had reflexes that -fast--except Zealley--and myself. I had estimated him correctly -then. He had been too clever to expose himself to any searcher; he -had disdained the prestige he might have acquired, staying in the -background, but in a position where he could observe any pursuer if and -when he appeared. - -Roesler-Zealley had noted the brief play of understanding on my face -and he nodded. "I had to be certain, Max," he said. "You've changed -too, you know." - -Which was true. The mites in our veins had altered us both considerably -through the years. We had developed some small empathy with them and -they often performed as we wished. It was not that they could read -our thoughts. Their activities were probably only reactions to our -emotional and glandular functions. Moreover, they acted as often in -ways that suited their own designs, changing our body structures, and -regulating our metabolisms, seemingly at random. - -"What did you want with me, Max?" Zealley asked, still being very -pleasant. "Did you come to join me in conquering the world?" - -He was being facetious and I did not answer him. He knew why I was here. - -Overhead a faint click came from the light globe, a sound that probably -only I noticed, and I knew that my alarm had gone off. I judged it -would take the police only a few minutes to reach here. - -"Or are you going to pretend that the medics have found a way to boil -the bugs out of us?" Zealley asked. Did I detect a concealed pleading -for just that assurance? - -I shook my head. "No, they haven't found any way, Howard," I -obliterated the hope. - -"Good old Max." Bitterness crept into his voice. "Faithful, selfless -old Max. Going to save the world. Going to save the whole of humanity," -he amended expansively. - -He hadn't changed too much. Sarcasm had always come natural with him, -which made it no more likable. - - * * * * * - -He might have said dull, stupid, cloddish old Max. The words would have -better matched the tone of his voice. At that, he might be right. The -authorities back on our home world of New Nebraska had said pretty much -the same thing, only more diplomatically. - -"You and Zealley are different," I'd been told. "That was one of -the reasons we made you a team, originally. Zealley is clever and -imaginative, but basically an egotist. A to-hell-with-the-other-fellow -character. Fortunately, you're not like him. You're a man who accepts -his responsibilities, a man with a strong sense of duty. We know we can -trust you." Whether it was actually trust or only that they had little -choice, I had not let myself decide. - -"We had such high hopes." Zealley was reminiscing, speaking more to -himself than to me. - -We had. We'd been a two-man survey crew, mapping out new territory -for the future expansion of the human race. On a world listed only as -TR768-L-14 on the star maps, we had run into disaster. We found the -planet unfit for human habitation, but not before we'd been bitten -several times by things we never did see. - -No infection had resulted and we thought little about it, until we were -a good part of the way home. Gradually then we noticed a quickening -of our sensory processes, a well-being of body too pronounced to be -normal. During the next several weeks of flight, Zealley wrote a -historical novel that I was certain would turn out to be a classic. -I found myself mastering, without difficulty, higher math, which had -always been beyond me before. - -At the end of the third month we stopped needing sleep. During the days -and nights that followed we conversed brilliantly on subjects that -had not interested us before, and the depth of which we couldn't have -fathomed if they had interested us. We were at a loss to explain the -reason for the change, though we knew it tied in somehow with our stay -on TR768-L-14, and probably with the things that had bitten us. The -cause was of secondary importance; the marvel of the reality was what -intrigued us. We looked forward with poorly restrained excitement to -displaying our new mental and physical dexterity. - - * * * * * - -The Space Bureau authorities were every bit as impressed as we had -anticipated. The medics readily found that we had been infested by a -germ, but by a benevolent germ, a true symbiote. That discovery was -followed by months of tests and examinations. - -Between sessions with our own medics and laboratory men and various -visiting specialists, we amused ourselves by showing our new abilities. -At least a dozen times a day I had to put someone down in an arm -wrestle. Even when they devised a way to pit two against me at a time, -I had little difficulty besting them. - -Zealley's displays tended toward the more flamboyant. One of the tricks -he delighted in was taking a razor blade, and, while his audience -watched with repelled fascination, cut a long gash in his forearm. For -an instant the blood would ebb out, then quickly clot and cease to -flow. The next day he would show them the arm, where a thin red line at -the most would remain to mark where the wound had been. - -Apparently Zealley's reminiscing had kept pace with my own. "It seems -such a shame, doesn't it, Max?" he asked. He was genuinely sad. - -So was I. - -Test results and theories developed fast in those early days. The -findings showed that the symbiotes repaired damage and faults in our -systems and protected us against disease. It was even hazarded that -they would prolong our lives indefinitely. - -Yet we were warned against complacency. The bug--we always spoke of it -in the singular, even though we knew the original mites had spawned in -our blood streams--could not act quickly enough to save our lives in -the event of major damage to essential organs or the brain. Also, we -could drown. Or we could die in a fall from a great height. Or starve -to death. - -The first intimation we had that all was not well had started as -a rumor. Two of the staff biochemists had been experimenting with -transplants of the bugs in fruit flies. They had turned up something -sensational. - -Zealley was not present when I received the disastrous news. At the end -of what would normally be a twenty- or thirty-year cycle--the chemists -were not able to estimate it any closer--the symbiotes evolved into -tiny winged insects. - -At that stage they acquired size and flying strength by devouring the -tissues of their hosts. - -In twenty or thirty years, then, our benign cohabitants would kill -us--and spread out by the millions to infest other available animal -life. Unless they were destroyed, not only would Zealley and I die, -but all humanity on all the worlds would face the prospect of becoming -infested. - -Zealley must have surmised what was coming. He had disappeared a week -earlier. Before he left, I had noticed considerable change in our body -and facial features. He would very soon be impossible to identify. - -The only lead the authorities ever got on him was that he had fled to -Earth. At that particular time Earth and New Nebraska were involved in -one of the more serious interworld bickerings. Citizens of each were -denied admittance to the other, which was probably the reason Zealley -had chosen Earth as a haven. - -New Nebraska's authorities called me in and briefed me on what I was -to do. They were able to smuggle me to Earth with forged papers that -identified me as a citizen of another planet. - -Zealley had to be found--and I was their one hope. - - * * * * * - -"You have some interest in that clock?" Zealley's words jarred me out -of my retrospection. Silently I cursed myself for letting my thoughts -and eyes stray. I was dismayed, too, to find that only a few minutes -had passed since I'd last looked. Even so, the police were taking -longer than I had calculated. - -Zealley abandoned all pretense of joviality. "Now, George," he said to -the pale-faced youth, who still stood by the door with his knife in his -hand. - -The boy started toward me and I tensed, shifting my feet to face him. -Something crashed against my right temple and only then did I remember -Steve, the man behind me. - -The force of the blow knocked me sideways but not unconscious. I -started to turn and a second glancing blow split the skin across my -forehead. I slid off the bed on the side away from him. - -I retained just enough control of my faculties to get to my feet as the -youth reached me and to grab him in a bear hug, but not fast enough to -keep the long blade of his knife from ripping into my stomach. - -The symbiote, though able to repair damage, was not able to block pain. -The bite of the knife clenched my muscles in a spasm of agony, and -dimly I heard the youth give a grunt of distress as my arms squeezed -and bent him back at the waist. - -Something landed on my foot--his knife. With blackness closing in, my -arms lost their strength and I slid down his body. - -I blanked out, but only for an instant. The kid had fallen with me and -my hands clutched his ankles as I fought to stay conscious. I stood up, -still holding his ankles. Putting everything I had into the effort, -I swung him around and sent him crashing into Steve, who was just -rounding the foot of the bed. They went down together. - -I gasped in air, clutching the gash in my stomach with hands that were -sticky and wet with blood. I turned toward Zealley. He was still -seated in his chair, still smiling. One hand, resting negligently in -his lap, held a snub-nosed pistol. - -He could have killed me any time before this, but he had wanted the fun -of watching me fight for my life. He opened his mouth to say something -but closed it abruptly as someone pounded at the door. - -"Come in!" I shouted through the froth in my mouth. - -"Damn you," Zealley said softly. He wiped the pistol on his trousers -and slid it across the floor away from him. - -The door burst inward. - -"These men tried to kill me," I told the two police officers. - - * * * * * - -Zealley's bland features simulated surprise. "I?" he asked. "I heard -noise in here as I was passing in the hall. I came in to see what the -trouble was." - -"He's lying," I said as the policemen turned inquiringly toward me. -"He's with them." - -Zealley shook his head sadly. "He must be delirious--" he began, but -the evidence was all on my side. - -"Shut up!" one of the officers said, grabbing him by the shirt front -and jerking him to his feet. - -I had started dressing immediately. I wanted to hide the wound in my -stomach. It burned, but I kept my face blank. - -Zealley was silent now. If I had been just superficially wounded, -his bluff would have worked--I'd have healed right there and then. I -hadn't, so he had to wait for developments. I hoped I could give him -some. - -While one of the officers worked to revive the youth--the thug named -Steve was already on his feet--I went to the bowl in the alcove and -washed the blood off my hands and stomach. - -They had the kid upright when I turned around: "Are you hurt bad?" the -policeman holding Zealley asked me. - -"Not too bad." I managed to keep my voice steady. "I'll be all right -until you can send an ambulance." - -He stood uncertainly for a moment. "I don't like to leave you alone, -but I can put in a call from our cruiser. The ambulance should get here -within ten minutes." - -"I'll be OK," I said. - -The sound of the closing door was the only way I had to know they were -gone. For the past half minute, my tight grip on the bed headboard -was all that held me erect. Now the starch went out of my body and I -crumpled to the floor. - -This time I did not blank out, but lay twisted and tight, waiting for -the pain to stop--or to kill me. - -A small easing of the torment came and I forced myself to relax. I was -able now to steel my mind against the racking spasms and pull myself to -my feet. I was not at all safe yet; even if I was not mortally wounded, -it would take the symbiote hours to repair the damage. - -I managed to pull on my clothes with numbed, awkward fingers and get -out of the room before the ambulance arrived. I took with me only my -grip. I would still need that. - -There was small chance that the police could hold Zealley. He would -probably be free on bail this same afternoon. - -The odds were against me. I was fighting in Zealley's own back yard, -wounded and entirely alone, while he must have been prepared for this -contingency for years. But I had succeeded in the first part of my -plan. I had found out who he was, and I had put him in a position where -he could not use his superior resources, for a time at least. Now I had -to get to him before he was able to mobilize those resources. - - * * * * * - -In the street, I had a violent attack of cramps in my upper diaphragm, -and I got down on one knee and made a pretense of adjusting a shoe -strap as I fought the torment. Perspiration gathered in clammy globules -all over my body. When the pain left, I rose and pushed grimly on. - -Opposite Minneapolis Mining's main offices, and a quarter of a block -down, I found the type of commercial building I was looking for, and -went in and sought out the building superintendent. - -"Do you have an office for rent on one of the lower floors?" I asked -him. "One that faces the front street?" - -"We have several," he answered with professional courtesy. He thumbed -through a row of cards and pulled out one with a small brown envelope -attached. "Here's a fine office on the sixth floor. It's only one room, -but--" - -"I'll take a look at it," I interrupted him. - -"Of course." He tore open the small envelope and took out a brass key. -"I'll take you up." - -"I'd rather go alone." - -As he hesitated, I took out my billfold and separated a hundred-dollar -bill from two others of its kind and laid it on his desk. "I'll leave -a deposit--in case I should like it," I said, taking the key from his -hand. - -"I suppose it will be all right," he murmured doubtfully. - -"Thank you," I called back over my shoulder. "I may be a while. I want -to look it over carefully." I ignored the fact that he seemed to have -more he wanted to say. - -The office was small, but that made little difference to me. There was -a clear view of the street from the window. That was all I cared about. - -In one corner was a small packing case, left by the former tenant. -I dragged it over by the window and sat down. From my grip I took a -rifle barrel and stock and assembled them, and filled the magazine with -ammunition. I kept part of my attention on the building down the street -while I worked. - -I hoped I had guessed right--that Zealley would get free of the police, -and that he would return to his office. - -The day-shift workers had begun to pour from the Mining building before -a taxi drew up to the curb and a man in a yellow hat alighted. - -Zealley had come. - -He was alone. I aligned the sights of my rifle on his head, waited -until I had a clear shot, and squeezed the trigger. - -The yellow hat sprang upward and Zealley sank from sight among the -hurrying workers. - -The job was done. - - * * * * * - -Finding a way back to New Nebraska took me a year, for I no longer -fitted my passport picture and description at all. - -"Except for the danger to others," I said when I reported in, "I -wouldn't have bothered coming back." - -"A good thing for you that you did bother to come back here," I was -told. - -The biochemists had gone on with their work through the years I'd -searched for Zealley. They had learned that the symbiotes' life cycle -developed in three distinct stages: five years of propagation, fifteen -years in the dormant aging process, an undetermined number of years in -the final form. - -If the blood of a carrier was replaced any time during the first five -years, the bugs in the residual blood in the body began to propagate -again, delaying the aging process another five years. - -"In other words," I was told, "we can control the symbiote. Mankind can -reap the benefits--with not a single one of the dangers." - -Except poor Zealley, I thought pityingly, but wonderingly. The hogs, -the smart boys who have every angle figured in getting the jump on -everybody else--how is it they never figure the last angle? - -He should have waited instead of grabbing. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Metamorphosis, by Charles V. de Vet - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK METAMORPHOSIS *** - -***** This file should be named 51713.txt or 51713.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/1/51713/ - -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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